(parenthetical) (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
parenthetical) wrote2008-04-07 12:20 am
parenthetical) wrote2008-04-07 12:20 am
Entry tags:
[untitled; good omens gen (crowley/sin?), 418 words]
Title: Untitled
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
blindmadness
Word Count: 418
Characters: Anthony J. Crowley and him alone! Unless you count him/sin as a pairing.
Rating: Uh, a good PG-13, probably.
Fandom/'Verse: Good Omens
Summary: Written in August of '05 and the last of the catch-up fics.
Warning: Uh, strip clubs?
If you looked at it, it was actually rather the perfect job for a demon scouting for business. It didn't take an agent of Hell to see that the brightly lit, garishly decorated building, with its stifling, smoky smell and suffocatingly crowded main floor, was a positive breeding ground for sin.
The pride was evident in the motions of each dancer; confidence skyrocketed as alcohol flowed more and more freely. Every young clubgoer was convinced that they were the sexiest, most desirable, most talented, the one everyone else wanted to be like. And some of them, to some extent, were right -- the best-looking among them (the most provocative, the most self-possessed) were earning vicious, jealousy-laden glances from out of the corners of their fellow dancers' eyes. The envy inspired the usually meek, shy, or antisocial to take greater risks than before -- to indulge themselves in more drink, in wilder dancing, going further than they ever had before. They became ravenous, their desires and appetites escalating at alarming rates. Their gluttony couldn't be appeased.
In the mass of dancing and flurry of movement, sloth was sadly lacking. But the absence of one sin didn't matter so much when the other six were so present. When the lights rose onto the platform, the clubgoers moved forward as one, eager to get as close as possible. Those who were lost in the crush or stuck at the back became violent, lashing out angrily, doing whatever they could to put as little distance as possible between themselves and the figure ascending the platform. They stared at the body that was slowly, ever so slowly, revealed to them, and called out eagerly for more, greedily wanting to see everything at once, their avarice mounting by the second.
As for lust...well, it went unsaid that lust would exist in a strip club. It, more than anything, radiated in the air, practically palpable in the haze above the crowd. The lust alone, Crowley reflected absently, would be more than enough to condemn the clubgoers. Combined with the other sins -- heightened due to his own presence, of course -- the group's positions Below should be irreversibly clinched.
Maybe, the demon reflected as he unbuttoned the last button of his shirt and gracefully slid it off to the cheering of the crowd, it wasn't the most elegant of jobs, or the classiest. But business was business, so Anthony J. Crowley reached for the zipper of his pants with no guilt or shame as the dancers shouted delirious approval.
Author:
blindmadnessWord Count: 418
Characters: Anthony J. Crowley and him alone! Unless you count him/sin as a pairing.
Rating: Uh, a good PG-13, probably.
Fandom/'Verse: Good Omens
Summary: Written in August of '05 and the last of the catch-up fics.
Warning: Uh, strip clubs?
If you looked at it, it was actually rather the perfect job for a demon scouting for business. It didn't take an agent of Hell to see that the brightly lit, garishly decorated building, with its stifling, smoky smell and suffocatingly crowded main floor, was a positive breeding ground for sin.
The pride was evident in the motions of each dancer; confidence skyrocketed as alcohol flowed more and more freely. Every young clubgoer was convinced that they were the sexiest, most desirable, most talented, the one everyone else wanted to be like. And some of them, to some extent, were right -- the best-looking among them (the most provocative, the most self-possessed) were earning vicious, jealousy-laden glances from out of the corners of their fellow dancers' eyes. The envy inspired the usually meek, shy, or antisocial to take greater risks than before -- to indulge themselves in more drink, in wilder dancing, going further than they ever had before. They became ravenous, their desires and appetites escalating at alarming rates. Their gluttony couldn't be appeased.
In the mass of dancing and flurry of movement, sloth was sadly lacking. But the absence of one sin didn't matter so much when the other six were so present. When the lights rose onto the platform, the clubgoers moved forward as one, eager to get as close as possible. Those who were lost in the crush or stuck at the back became violent, lashing out angrily, doing whatever they could to put as little distance as possible between themselves and the figure ascending the platform. They stared at the body that was slowly, ever so slowly, revealed to them, and called out eagerly for more, greedily wanting to see everything at once, their avarice mounting by the second.
As for lust...well, it went unsaid that lust would exist in a strip club. It, more than anything, radiated in the air, practically palpable in the haze above the crowd. The lust alone, Crowley reflected absently, would be more than enough to condemn the clubgoers. Combined with the other sins -- heightened due to his own presence, of course -- the group's positions Below should be irreversibly clinched.
Maybe, the demon reflected as he unbuttoned the last button of his shirt and gracefully slid it off to the cheering of the crowd, it wasn't the most elegant of jobs, or the classiest. But business was business, so Anthony J. Crowley reached for the zipper of his pants with no guilt or shame as the dancers shouted delirious approval.