fandomhighdorms | Second Floor Common Room, Wednesday Evening

'Valenteen' had spent a good twenty minutes rearranging the furniture in the second floor common room to better set the scene for the big shoot of the grand finale of his up and coming blockbuster hit, "Fandom Chicken, The Motion Picture."
This basically meant that the television was turned off and there was a little pillow fort created from the cushions of the couch for the terrible 'Flynn Flonn' to demolish in a flaming rage.
As the head of pyrotechnics had run off to Cuba, and Sokka, his costume mistress, seemed more interested in stupid masks for the extras than actual costuming for the leads, a costume was fashioned for his monster out of a garbage bag with holes cut in it and some coloured paper cut out to look like flames, stuck onto it with duct tape. It was low-budget, but it was brilliant nevertheless.
To top it off, another costume had been quickly fashioned out of a chopped up ice cream bucket, some cardboard, and a few rubber gloves, and it was awaiting a star that was brilliant enough to play the title role of the chicken.
Now, all he needed was for his cast to arrive. And, hopefully, someone who could operate a camera.

(OOC: ~~Going to set up some minor OCD.~~ OCD IS UP! Open for gawking, extras, anyone with a camera, and, of course, your normal common room needs.)

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For those of you who don't want to be part of the movie.

You'll probably be yelled at to be quiet on the set anyhow, though.

Show up, mingle, wonder what sort of crack Valentine has ingested, ask for a role, and get into costume!

This is open for everyone-- if you want to be involved in the crack, let me know.

If you have a camera and are willing to film this monstrosity, even better!

And... we're rolling! Extras-- run and scream! Flynn? Demolish buildings! Rubber Chicken? ... Be chickeny! GET US AN OSCAR.

I would like to thank the Academy, my talented actors, and the cupcake.

Now somebody get me a low-fat non-whip soy latte.

Alec was not very impressed by the costume budget, seeing as his was full of holes and had pieces of construction paper taped to it. "I'd better still get my own trailer..."

"Yes, yes, of course." Valenteen held out the costume for Alec to put on. "Put this on and get into character. Roar a bit. Don't smash the city quite yet, though. Those pillows took me a good twenty minutes to set up on my own."

Dawn wandered into the common room, muttering, "I can't believe we're out of peanut butter. How can I eat celery and raisins without peanut butter?"

"YOU!" Valentine had his paper megaphone again. The world was meant to quake in fear. "Where have you been? Hurry up, come here, get into costume! We're about to start rolling!"

Dawn glanced down at her skirt and sweater, then stared at the guy in the mask in confusion. "Costume for what?"

Valentine waved his arms in the air flamboyantly. "For the climax! The icing on the cake that is my masterpiece! I need you to get into costume so that you can team up with the rubber chicken to defeat the dreaded Flynn from destroying the city!" He motioned to the pillow fort in a grandiose gesture. "Hurry up now, go get a spoon and turn your shirt inside-out." The megaphone was once again to his mouth. "MAKEUP!"

Sighing, Alec put on the... thing. At least he wasn't actually on fire, anyway. "Roar? Why am I supposed to be roaring?"

Dawn put her hands on her hips. "I'm not wearing icing or a rubber chicken, and what's the spoon for, anyway?" She eyed him suspiciously. "Are you a pervert?"

"You're a big, terrifying monster, raging inside because you're no longer a mostly attractive leather-clad teenager. Why wouldn't you be roaring? You have soulpain." Valentine crossed his arms and frowned. "Come on now. Let me hear your soulpain."

Valenteen stared back at her. "Someone else will be wearing the chicken. The icing was a metaphor, and the spoon is the best weapon I can think of since the pyro tech ran away with most of the budget and took off to Cuba." Note how he didn't answer the last question? He was a movie director. The answer, really, should be obvious.

"But why a spoon?" Dawn was interested despite herself.

"It was either that, or the aerosol whipping cream." That much should be obvious, Valenteen figured.

Alec scowled again. "Fine, fine. Mostly attractive, my ass," he muttered, before clearing his throat. Lifting his arms, he gave a great roar, though it was more "uncomfortable heartburn" than "soulpain."

"Of course," Dawn said, because that was the obvious answer, "and why is Flynn destroying the city?" She glanced around, trying to find someone who spoke conversational sanity.

Valentine considered this for a moment, then shrugged a little and smiled. "We'll polish it up in post-production. Ready for your big screen debut?"

How swiftly Valentine's paper megaphone was converted into a blank sheet of paper to wave in Dawn's face. "It's in the script! He's a tormented soul, and he has been rejected because he no longer looks good in leather and fishnet!"

And now Dawn was wondering if that was why Angelus had wanted to destroy the world. "And who am I, again?"

"The deus ex machina, my dear!" Valentine was gesturing to the pillow fort city. "Just when we think it's too late for our rubber chicken hero, you step in with your spoon and save the day!"

But Alec appeared to be considering something. "I think I could do better; I might have soulpain around somewhere."

Dawn was feeling a strange sense of deja vu, but she shook it off. "Ah. Gotcha. Um, and my shirt needs to be inside out why, again?"

"It's either that, or we turn you into a giant robot with cereal boxes." Really. It made perfect sense to Valenteentine.

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Second Floor Common Room, Wednesday Evening

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