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sebastianshaw · 3 years

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@sammysdewysensitiveeyes So, you asked me not long ago, how I’d feel about Haven as a mutant on Krakoa. As it happens, I’m on an RP Discord where I write her as such, since they allow characters there to be mutants who aren’t mutants in canon, in order to join the RP, since it’s set on Krakoa. I made her a healer, able to heal herself and others. Super on the nose, but it’s what she would want, and it also fulfills *my* desire for her not to be hurt anymore (I mean, she still can be, she’ll just recover) Anyway, in March I wrote this for her in that setting. Featuring Shaw as usual since he’s one of my other muses there and, well, you know I love writing my faves together and their conversations because self-indulgence. No obligation to read, just I remembered I had written it and was like “Oh that’s like what Sammy asked about”

Shaw’s latest job was to spread the Krakoan medicine throughout the country of India. A considerable task; India was made up of no less than 28 states and 8 union territories, with an immense and diverse population. There were the dilapidated slums and rural villages that Westerners most often imagined, but there were also bustling cosmopolitan cities, centers of business and technology and commerce to rival New York, and it was in the biggest of these that Shaw was starting---

Mumbai.

Accompanying him on the recommendation of Charles Xavier was Radha Dastoor---Haven of the healing gardens, whom he had previously met when she had helped with his back. At first Shaw had thought this was a bit racist of Charles, but it turned out not only was Haven from Mumbai specifically herself, she had wonderful connections for the tasks. Her philanthropy had connected her with doctors, hospitals, shelters, and its hidden communities of those suffering afflictions such as the oft-claimed-eradicated leprosy. But, Shaw could have done most of that himself, aside from the hidden colonies. No, where Haven came in most handy was, shockingly, her knowledge of Mumbai’s criminal underworld. Not because she had ever been involved with it, but because she had done so much work getting people out of it---the women and children she had worked to get out of human trafficking rings, the survival sex workers rescued from abusive pimps, the children enticed away from little “found families” of criminals who used them for their dirty work. . .the list went on. And of course she hadn’t been able to do all that alone, she had been funding an entire network of people to get this done, to keep the rescued parties safe and help them in getting to a new life, to block off or arrest those who tried to take them back or attack the rescuers themselves (Haven had been a target MANY times, but those had been in the days when she’d been kept safe by The Adversary’s powers. . . ) and thus she had an abundance of detectives and double agents on the inside. And because they were on the inside, they could bring in the medicine. . . and bring out the mutants being sold, enslaved, and Heaven wept at what else. Mutants that, for the moment, were staying with them in The Rajmani. Haven’s wealth was originally inherited, but she’d kept it coming---so that she could keep giving it away---through The Rajmani, a luxury heritage hotel on par with the likes of New York’s Ritz or Plaza. In income, anyway. In beauty, it surpassed them both. Well, perhaps that was subjective, but it was built within a restored Mughal Palace, and Shaw had to admit he was impressed with the great domes and slender minarets, the massive vaulted gateways and delicate ornamentation, the elegant water gardens and charbagh walkways through the carefully cultivated yet lush tropical greenery. Most of all, though, he liked learning the fact that the woman earned at least a little of her own money in some kind of sense, even if by her own admission she only owned it, not managed it. Shaw looked down on those who only inherited wealth, just as they had often looked down on him for earning his. Haven, though, did not seem to look down on him. She didn’t seem to have the proverbial stones to look down on anybody, and she certainly was around people who actually deserved it. She seemed to love being around that type, in fact, went out of her way to benefit them, centered her entire life around it. Some people, Shaw had found, were just mad like that. He suspected that it had something to do with growing up with money, taking it front granted and thus not comprehending its worse. But at least she didn’t dare think she was better than him, so she was that sensible at least. Although it was the last word he’d describe her with. No, if he were to describe Radha “Haven” Dastoor, he’d probably start with insipid, senseless, and downright delusional. But she was also. . .not an unengaging conversationalist. The reverse, actually. “The Mughals were constantly trying to invade Mumbai,” Haven explained, while Shaw nodded along. He was interested in architecture, and in martial history. “But as much of India as they had conquered, the native Marathis were just as constantly pushing them back. It was touch and go for decades. It surprises me that a Mughal structure remained without being torn down, though it was taken over.” “The native Marathis, you say---are Mughals not native? Or merely from another part of India?” “Well, that’s a complicated question, and the answer is a controversial one, so I till try to explain it as neutrally as I can,” Haven replied, and she indeed sounded neutral. They were standing together on the jharoka, an elaborately carved balcony with a roof, each with a glass of nimbu pani, though Shaw would have preferred a good Scotch. “The Mughal Empire in South Asia was begun by Babur, who came from Central Asia, specifically what is today Uzbekistan. His tribe was of Mongol origin, and the word Mughal is itself derived from “Mongol”. He actually came to South Asia to escape his fellow Uzbeks---it’s a very long story--but instead of being a refugee, he became a conqueror, starting by burning Lahore for two days and killing the last Sultan of the Lodi dynasty in Delhi, and the Lodi dynasty itself was not Indian, but Afghan. India was colonized by the Middle East long before Europe decided to try its hand. But to answer your question. . .they did not begin as Indian, no, but they were a part of our country for two hundred years and left a deep mark in our culture---clothing, food, language, art, and, of course, the buildings. But, the same could also be said of the British, and you would be hard-pressed to find anyone, including myself, who considers the British Raj to have been “Indian” simply because they were there for a long time and forced their ways upon us. At the same time, my mother is a Parsi, a people who originate from Iran, thousands of years ago---Parsi comes from “Persian”. And how can one tell me my mother, who was born and raised here, whose mother’s mothers and father’s fathers were born and raised here, that she was not Indian? And though Babur came from elsewhere, his sons and successors were born and raised here, and often to Indian mothers, and their descendants dwell here still, with no other homeland, so are they not Indian? Because if they were not, then perhaps I am not either, at least by half. Ultimately. . . it depends which Mughals, at what time period, and whom you ask, I suppose.” “And I suppose there’s also a difference between ethnicity and nationality to be considered,” Shaw said, though Haven was now losing his interest with this topic. He’d been more interest in the invasions and warring. “Ethnically, one can be anything, and still nationally be American if you were born there or otherwise have citizenship. But, I suppose you need not contemplate such matters anymore--” He cracked a wry smile as she, with a questioning look, awaited the rest of his sentence. “---after all, we are all Krakoan now, are we not? We’re all mutants, and that’s the only thing that matters.” Haven smiled back, not wryly but sincerely, “Oh, I am now, yes. But I am also still everything I was before. I have been balancing multiple identities my entire life Mr. Shaw, I believe I shall be able to continue to do so. But I must confess--” A moment of hesitation. “--I do not truly think of myself as a mutant yet.” She was not sure what reaction that she had expected to this confession, but it was not what Shaw said next. “I don’t either, Ms. Dastoor.” She looked at him in surprise. “Or rather,” he elaborated, “I do not consider myself a mutant in any sense other than in the way I consider myself to have black hair. It’s a physical fact, but nothing else. It is not a “culture” or “identity” to me, and in truth I find such attitudes to be foolish and even dangerous, not to mention a sign that an individual lacks their own personality and convictions and thus must merely default to group identity politics. Being a mutant tells you nothing about me, Ms. Dastoor, and so if I were to talk about who I am, that’s not something I’d include any more than my eye color.” “That’s an especially interesting perspective from someone on Krakoa’s Council,” said Haven, sounding very curious, “Could I ask you---” But her voice was cut off by the unmistakable sound of gunshots---and from INSIDE the building. “The children!” Haven exclaimed. It was not just her and Shaw that were lodged at The Rajmani tonight; it was where the mutants they had rescued were staying before the journey to the nearest portal tomorrow. And most were, indeed, children. As quickly as she spoke, she was moving back inside from the jharoka, but Shaw grabbed her by the elbow, easily holding her back despite her not being a small or weak woman despite her gentle demeanor. Haven was large, and could carry a grown man. But Shaw didn’t even need to be rough to halt her. “You stay put,” he said sternly, “The guards will handle this.” “Mr. Shaw---” “They are better equipped than you, Ms. Dastoor, you will only interfere--” Shaw and Haven had, of course, not come alone. Shaw had brought several trained mutants on his own payroll---not everyone needed to be one of the X-Men to be capable of handling a few humans and their toys--and they had been tasked with keeping watch over, as Shaw had earlier referred to them as, the latest flock of Krakoa’s little sheep. A statement Haven had also wondered about, though it was far from her mind now. Haven might have been about to argue with him. She might have been about to admit he was right, and she should hang back. But as with her question, she was cut off by a gunshot as she turned her face back to him and started to speak. A gunshot, and bullet through the back of her head. It exited through her right eye, and bounced off Shaw’s face and fell to the floor. She would have as well, had he not caught her as she crumpled. When her healing factor had repaired her enough that she regained consciousness, she was on Krakoa again, as were all the refugees, safe and sound. And so was Shaw. “Well, Ms. Dastoor,” he said, “You’ve been murdered---or rather, nearly so--by perfect strangers for a quirk of your genetics. Nothing can make you more of a mutant than that, wouldn’t you agree?” Haven smiled slightly, “I feel as much a mutant as perhaps a Mughal might feel Indian, Mr. Shaw. Take that as you will.” He took it ambiguously. Which was indeed how she had meant it. == END==

#fic #writing #out of shirt

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aziraphales-library · 4 years

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Hey!!! I’m kinda new, and I’d like to know if you can recommend me some good GO fics? My only request it’s that they should mostly be Teen Up or Gen s fics... and maybe some good AUs (I’m in love with those)

Okay, here we go!! I went a little all out on this post because it’s more about personal preference, but I still stand by it :D

An Angel who did not so much Fall In Love as Settle Into It Gradually by TheLadyZephyr - 7.5k - Rated T

Crowley was standing in the middle of the room, hands in his pockets, looking a little lost. Aziraphale eyed the distance between them. Five steps. Five steps, and six thousand years, and a battlefield spanning an eternity.

The story of the little moments over the millennia that shape an angel’s regard for a demon, and the way he slowly, with great reluctance but inevitable surety, falls in love.

I simply adore this fic. It’s one of those fics that follows them through the ages and its just done so well. I don’t even know what else to say, just that you should go read it, and the fanart is also gorgeous!

Something So Magic by apliddell - 3.9k - Rated G

Crowley gets stuck in his serpent form, and Aziraphale tries his best to help.

This fic is simple, yet adorable, and I cannot get enough of it.

How Much To Give, How Much To Take by thechemicalgirl - 3k - Rated G

“It’s like…’ he paused, trying to calm down. ‘It’s like after I came back from Heaven and we switched our bodies back, something has happened. I can’t use my power anymore, not even to start the Bentley.”

Crowley loses his demonic abilities and Aziraphale tries to help him cope with it, but things get much more complicated than that.

Angsty, but also soft, and just a great execution of a favourite premise.

In Peace I Will Both Lie Down and Sleep by fizzybiscuits - 5.6k - Rated G

Aziraphale starts having nightmares. For some reason, he doesn’t talk to Crowley about this right away.

Title is from Psalms 4:8. “In peace I will both lie down and sleep; for you alone, O Lord, make me dwell in safety.”

This fic just has everything. It’s a stellar example of an established relationship fic and is cavity-inducingly fluffy.

Be All My Sins Remembered by CloversDreams - 43.4k - Rated T

“The trial,” Beelzebub continued loudly, “will consist of seven tests.”

“Seven…” Aziraphale muttered under his breath. He had a bad feeling about this and it showed. He twiddled his thumbs nervously as he waited for more details.

Crowley scrunched his face and shook his head. “Oh you don’t mean–”

“Correct. The Sins have been charged with the task,” Beelzebub interjected.

“Crap.” Crowley groaned. He slapped his hands onto his face and dragged them downward slowly. This was just what they didn’t need.

Gabriel nodded. He had a rather unpleasant grin on his face as he said, “Don’t know much about them, myself, but they can be a pretty gnarly group of high-class demons from what I’ve heard. On par with the archangels back home. Wouldn’t want to… what’s that delightful human phrase? Oh, right. Wouldn’t want to cock this up.”

Listen, in my opinion, this fic is massively underrated. I unintentionally binged it all in one go because it was so gripping. The angst in some chapters had me practically screaming, and the whole idea is a brilliant take on the seven deadly sins. The pining is magnificent, and I live for the Husbands drama.

Let Sleeping Snakes Lie by Blue_Sparkle - 2.6k - Rated G

Aziraphale confesses his love for Crowley when he can contain it no longer. Oh, not to the demon himself of course. To a sleeping snake.

Another fic featuring Snake!Crowley, this one is magnificently soft, and I adore the scene in Stardust it’s inspired by. Just can’t stop coming back to read, 10/10 recommend!

Serpent of Eden, Original Tempter by noodlefrog - 33.4k - Rated T

During Crowley’s trial, the agents of Hell present evidence that the demon has been fraternizing with the enemy. Careful to protect Crowley’s pride (and his own concealed feelings), Aziraphale turns on the saunter and leans into his friend’s reputation as a tempter to spin their relationship into something that looks more demonic than lunch dates and feeding the ducks.

This fic combines Pining, Misunderstandings, and a fantastic ‘what if?’ for the execution scenes, and I am here for it. The Original Characters are written fantastically well, and I loved the bonus chapter!

What They Say About Assumptions by DragonGirl - 7.9k - Rated T

While it’s true that God bestowed upon the angels the divine power to sense love of all kinds, that does not mean they were given the ability to sense exactly who or what that love is directed at. A minor design flaw that hasn’t been much of an issue. Until now.

Or:

Aziraphale has known that Crowley loved someone since the beginning. He’s also spent most of that time believing that someone was a demon.

Aziraphale’s obliviousness in this fic was so ridiculous it felt plausible. It was hilarious but also heartwarming, and has one of my fave love confessions. It was angsty as hell in the best way, and I just implore that you read it!

Futile Devices by ticketybye - 3.2k - Rated G

Crowley pretends to sleep. Aziraphale talks.

Just adorable. Cavity inducing fluff and love confessions are my favourite things and god does this deliver on that.

Foolish Principality by seashadows and WikdSushi - 6.6k - Rated M

Upon moving into a South Downs cottage, Crowley gets left alone while Aziraphale rushes to help the new proprietors of his bookshop. Thanks to a miracle gone wrong, Crowley discovers Aziraphale's greatest material secret, and a few things neither of them could ever fully face.

Is rated M but in my opinion there’s nothing too bad in here, though you should judge for yourself. The poetry is beautiful, horrifying masterpieces, and it is honestly fantastically funny and sweet.

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Y’all know by now that I adore anything by Arinia, but this fic is one of my faves:

Just This Once by Arinia - 2.7k - Rated T

An idea came, slowly at first, before filling up his heart, setting every nerve alight. It might be another decade, another century even, before he saw Crowley again. No one had come to rescue him from Above. No one had chastised Crowley for wasting a miracle from Below. Perhaps, just this once…

The streets of Paris are soaked with blood, and Aziraphale realizes just how much he owes Crowley for saving his life.

It’s freaking adorable, the kissing is fantastic, and I have a secret love of the French Revolution that made me love the fic all the more. Read it, I beg you.

——

As for AUs, I don’t read loads, but I do have some faves!

Neighborly Affection by Thestarlitrose - 4.6k - Rated T - Human AU

Anthony J Crowley was four years old the first time he met the tiny Ezra A Fell; he wasn’t impressed.

He was forty-six when he found him again in a bookshop in Soho.

The Childhood Friends, Flower Shop, Christmas, Friends to Lovers fic nobody asked for in the middle of October.

This fic is a complete tangle of tropes, and it’s also incredibly sweet. Perfect for the fast approaching holiday season!

a book elegantly bound by AwkwardPotatoChild - 6.5k - Rated G - Library AU

Two idiots. One book series.

or alternatively, Aziraphale and Crowley are united over their common love of books and the scheming of one Miss Anathema Device

This fic manages to be both very funny and incredibly endearing at the same time. The book names were hilarious, and I adored Anathema’s matchmaking.

A Jaunt Or Two by sonicsora - 3.1k - Rated T - Human AU

They meet by happenstance twice over, only to end up quite woven into one anothers lives. It’s all quite accidental, but sticks.

Crowley realizes a bit belated he’s quite attached to this man who freely uses the word jaunt and wears cream-colored suits.

This fic is just adorable. It’s sweet, fluffy, and exactly my kind of thing. Also Gabriel’s a dick in the comedic way, which is fun to see.

Restoration by arealshitwizard (gaiusgallus) - 2.6k - Rated G - Human AU

Ok I had this idea in my head and it wouldn’t go away so here is Aziraphale as a painting restorer and Crowley as a flash stock broker… There’s just one chapter sorry for my sins

This is a really unique fic (I know I keep saying that, but it’s true!), and featured such fun interpretations of their characters!

——-

I’m aware that 90% of this list is very specific to my preferences, and that it got a little out of hand, but I hope y’all enjoy the recs anyway! XD

Does the blog have any favourites they’d like to share?

~ Mod B

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