(no subject)
Well, Ryan's been thoroughly corrupted.
1- "There must be a Good Omens movie made, just so we can see the scene with Newt and the Intergalactic Police"
2- "When Dillon has Intro to Video, we should find some way to film that scene"
3- "We also need to see the Opening Scene at the Garden of Eden"
4- "Dillon is Crowley, despite being short, overweight, red-haired, and not even remotely British"
5- "Owen Wilson would make a good Crowley"
In light of this, I'm going to write a short fic and not tell him about it.
Crowley had never much been one for the cinema. True, it was a major tool of corruption, and one he'd been closely involved in the development of, and he was good friends with the goddess Media and all, but somehow it felt cheap. Almost... dirty, though that wasn't generally considered a bad thing in his line of work. Which is why, now, he was squirming in his seat at the premiere of a new Owen Wilson vessel, holding a large bag of popcorn and waiting for the Angel to settle into his seat.
Well, it's not why he was there, just why he was squirming and feeling generally uncomfortable. Somehow Aziraphael had been selected to recieve opening night passes to 'The Witchfinder' and of course, as with every interesting new opportunity to drag Crowley somewhere, Crowley had, indeed, been dragged along. Aziraphael beamed, happily oblivious, at the brooding demon next to him. Crowley sighed, partly disgust and partly resignation, as he squirmed once again into the seat and tried to make the best of it.
He cringed a little at the rising swell of the THX sound system test-demo and groaned at the Moviephone.com commercial, the Movietickets.com commercial, the... Sony Ericsson commercial? Didn't there used to be previews of upcoming films before the feature film? Suddenly that commendation for rising rates of disillusionment and disgust among moviegoers made more sense.
Finally, somewhere between a commercial for an upcoming sitcom and a preview for 'The Liquidator' (a Vin Diesel film about a closeout-store owner who takes his city back from lawnmower-riding villains in tuxedos while winning the heart of a local lawnmower-repair service and simultaneously teaching the population of an orphanage to respect and stand up for themselves while not being afraid to express themselves through interpretive dance), Crowley managed to get comfortable and settle in. Just in time for Aziraphael to start talking to him. About the previews.
Oh, joy and rapture.
"That one looks good."
"Crowley, did you...." "No, Angel. I generally don't mess about with the plots of movies made by American film directors." "Oh, it's just that..." "I know, Angel. You're forgiven."
"Crowley, what in... someone's name... ...why???" "It's not really as uncomfortable as it looks..." "Crowley!" "...you asked"
"Well, that, at least, was entertaining. What was the name of that one?" "...Angel, it was an animation advertising teh theatre and signalling a break between previews and the film itself."
"...oh."
As they'd talked they'd become more comfortable, leaning their heads together and whispering, sharing popcorn and soda they'd actually purchased, even at exhorbitant theatre prices. Crowley felt a pang of sadness, this was what they called 'theatre' now... actually, he also felt a pang of numbness... "Aziraphael?" The angel looked up "Hmm?" Crowley grimaced a little "Could you maybe move a little higher or lower? You're directly on a nerve and it's very uncomfortable."
Aziraphael squirmed a bit, nuzzling closer under Crowley's jaw, and Crowley smiled. Maybe the cinema wasn't so bad. He glanced up at the screen, where a bewildered Owen Wilson in a small Volkswagen was being told off by a frog-creature about the size of his planet's icecaps. The demon sighed as he washed down his popcorn with a swig of slightly watered down pink lemonade and muttered to himself
"Where do they come up with this?"
Ok, done for now. Bedtime. I'll see if I can bribe the boy into drawing the Angel and the Demon for our amusement, and if I can, I'll likely post it up for your viewing pleasure.
1- "There must be a Good Omens movie made, just so we can see the scene with Newt and the Intergalactic Police"
2- "When Dillon has Intro to Video, we should find some way to film that scene"
3- "We also need to see the Opening Scene at the Garden of Eden"
4- "Dillon is Crowley, despite being short, overweight, red-haired, and not even remotely British"
5- "Owen Wilson would make a good Crowley"
In light of this, I'm going to write a short fic and not tell him about it.
Crowley had never much been one for the cinema. True, it was a major tool of corruption, and one he'd been closely involved in the development of, and he was good friends with the goddess Media and all, but somehow it felt cheap. Almost... dirty, though that wasn't generally considered a bad thing in his line of work. Which is why, now, he was squirming in his seat at the premiere of a new Owen Wilson vessel, holding a large bag of popcorn and waiting for the Angel to settle into his seat.
Well, it's not why he was there, just why he was squirming and feeling generally uncomfortable. Somehow Aziraphael had been selected to recieve opening night passes to 'The Witchfinder' and of course, as with every interesting new opportunity to drag Crowley somewhere, Crowley had, indeed, been dragged along. Aziraphael beamed, happily oblivious, at the brooding demon next to him. Crowley sighed, partly disgust and partly resignation, as he squirmed once again into the seat and tried to make the best of it.
He cringed a little at the rising swell of the THX sound system test-demo and groaned at the Moviephone.com commercial, the Movietickets.com commercial, the... Sony Ericsson commercial? Didn't there used to be previews of upcoming films before the feature film? Suddenly that commendation for rising rates of disillusionment and disgust among moviegoers made more sense.
Finally, somewhere between a commercial for an upcoming sitcom and a preview for 'The Liquidator' (a Vin Diesel film about a closeout-store owner who takes his city back from lawnmower-riding villains in tuxedos while winning the heart of a local lawnmower-repair service and simultaneously teaching the population of an orphanage to respect and stand up for themselves while not being afraid to express themselves through interpretive dance), Crowley managed to get comfortable and settle in. Just in time for Aziraphael to start talking to him. About the previews.
Oh, joy and rapture.
"That one looks good."
"Crowley, did you...." "No, Angel. I generally don't mess about with the plots of movies made by American film directors." "Oh, it's just that..." "I know, Angel. You're forgiven."
"Crowley, what in... someone's name... ...why???" "It's not really as uncomfortable as it looks..." "Crowley!" "...you asked"
"Well, that, at least, was entertaining. What was the name of that one?" "...Angel, it was an animation advertising teh theatre and signalling a break between previews and the film itself."
"...oh."
As they'd talked they'd become more comfortable, leaning their heads together and whispering, sharing popcorn and soda they'd actually purchased, even at exhorbitant theatre prices. Crowley felt a pang of sadness, this was what they called 'theatre' now... actually, he also felt a pang of numbness... "Aziraphael?" The angel looked up "Hmm?" Crowley grimaced a little "Could you maybe move a little higher or lower? You're directly on a nerve and it's very uncomfortable."
Aziraphael squirmed a bit, nuzzling closer under Crowley's jaw, and Crowley smiled. Maybe the cinema wasn't so bad. He glanced up at the screen, where a bewildered Owen Wilson in a small Volkswagen was being told off by a frog-creature about the size of his planet's icecaps. The demon sighed as he washed down his popcorn with a swig of slightly watered down pink lemonade and muttered to himself
"Where do they come up with this?"
Ok, done for now. Bedtime. I'll see if I can bribe the boy into drawing the Angel and the Demon for our amusement, and if I can, I'll likely post it up for your viewing pleasure.