#muted colours

that which happens in life how it changes how they change how eventually even the memory of what they were changes

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Regressor!Dustin Henderson (Stranger Things) Stimboard

Made for: 🦌 anon

Please do let me know if you would like to claim this anon. :) I posted it as a one-off, but I can add it to the list if you'd like. :) Thank you for the request, I loved making it. :)

Credits: x x x | x x x | x x x

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After a long period of not writing, here is my entry both @flashfictionfridayofficial (muted colours) and @jewsinfandoms (communication).

As always this is a Good Omens fanfiction, this time about Crowley and Aziraphale. Enjoy :)

Aziraphale stared at the table that was laden with a bewildering amount of holiday dishes. Between the lettuce salad with sun dried tomatoes, cheesy stuffed mushrooms, butternut squash with pecan nuts and beet carpaccio, the result was a cacophony of textures and colours.

"Too much, Angel?"

Aziraphale didn't bother to turn around and look at the speaker, he already knew who it was. Who else but his beloved demon would be able to read his body language, and understand his stress? People were usually happy with so many options to choose from, and nobody had reason to believe, other than someone who knew him for millennials, that something was wrong.

"How 'bout you take that lovely stuffed eggplant and some of the vegan cheese burrekas you love so much, I'll bring that wine bottle, and we will find ourselves a quiet corner?"

A few minutes and some well-earned cups later, the angel allowed himself to relax. They sat on a wide bench near the synagogue, and watched the people enjoying the food.

"That was an excellent suggestion," Aziraphale said in what he thought of as a whisper. Being drunk lowered some of his angelic defences, causing his voice to carry clearly around them.

"I am known to have great ideas," answered Crowley, clearly proud of himself, as he snapped his fingers discreetly to create a bubble of silence around them. He had a feeling that Aziraphale was about to get nostalgic, and some memories were just too complicated to explain.

"Sometimes I miss the days when everything was simpler", confessed Aziraphale, confirming Crowley's hunch that this is gonna be one of those times, and he congratulated himself for thinking ahead. "

"We have been over this, Angel, I'm sorry for creating taxes…"

"This is not what I'm talking about," Aziraphale cut Crowley's words short, something he rarely did, and the demon silenced. Whatever was on his mind, must have been important. "Remember Babel?"

Crowley scratched his neck in confusion. "Nice enough weather, nothing to eat but wheat and lentils, clothes a bit itchy. What about it?"

"Lentils!" Aziraphale spoke in a voice loud enough to pass through the silence bubble Crowley made, causing some people to look at them. It's not every day you see someone is that excited about them. "That was good times. Everybody ate the same thing, wore the same clothes, spoke the same language… No room for misunderstandings because of a translation mistake."

Crowley looked at him in confusion. "But if all the people think the same, there will be no diversity! No local knitting patterns, paintings describing special traditions, ballads about everyday life… Do you really want that?"

Aziraphale looked at him in despair. "If that will stop the hatred of today, so yes, the price is well worth it."

"But it won't, Aziraphale, that's the whole point. Who do you think made the Tower of Babel collapse?"

"Well…" Said Aziraphale hesitantly, "I always assumed it was one of your lot. Surely none from my side."

"The humans did it to themselves! Even when they all spoke the same language, they had disagreements among themselves, and that led to the destruction. It was all their work."

"Are you saying humans are doomed? They will always have wars? That is very pessimistic, even for you." Aziraphale looked shattered, as if that conversation was the final straw to break his faith in humanity.

"Not at all, angel. Humans have also a great capacity for caring and love, even if sometimes they forget it."

"Then what are we waiting for? There is work to do!" Aziraphale jumped to his feet, all the sadness gone from his face, and took Crowley's hand. "Will you help me?"