#ive had this fic on ao3 for awhile but im gonna start posting here too

[izaswritings]

Title: the brothers grim

Fandom: Genshin Impact

Synopsis: Left in an unfamiliar land with a mission he never wanted, a young Kaeya lies, survives, and somehow finds a family in the process. 

Or: How Kaeya came to Dawn Winery, and why he left it. Includes lore, sibling bickering, found family struggles, and a more in-depth look at the years between Kaeya’s arrival and Crepus’s death.

AO3 link is here.

[Next chapter is here!]

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chapter one: the storm

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Kaeya’s first day in the nation of Mondstadt is a silent one.

They reach the border sometime in the bitter blue dawn, and by midday have reached the rolling hills. His father walks bent under the weight of the winds and Kaeya picks his way along the path behind him, half-hidden in the stooping shadow and lone eye fixed on his father’s back. They do not stop to eat. There is a statue of the Seven settled in the heart of a shallow lake, and they do not stop there either. The whole way through this windy land, despite his secret promise to keep his eye on his father until the end, Kaeya’s gaze drifts, fascinated, to the sea of grass sounding them.

His father has no such distractions. Though he has never set foot in Mondstadt either, his gaze never drifts, his eyes fixed cold and sure on the horizon. He walks with purpose, and does not falter, even when Kaeya lags behind. He does not speak. Beyond the quiet oath he had made Kaeya swear the night before, in that last campfire, he has not said a word.

The clouds clutter close and gray. The wind howls. Kaeya quickens his pace, lingering by his father’s heels, and says, “I think it’s going to rain.”

His father’s eyes flicker up. He is quiet for a moment. He says, “That will help you.”

Kaeya presses his lips and doesn’t argue. He thinks about the oath. He reaches for his covered eye and then forces his hand back down.

In the late afternoon, they arrive. His father leaves him on the side of the road just as the storm is beginning to form, the clouds churning high above their heads, gray and angry like the ghosts of Khaenri'ah at their worst. His hands weigh heavy on Kaeya’s shoulders; his gaze unsettles him. His eyes are pale and focused and do not seem to see Kaeya at all.

“You understand,” he says again, as he has been saying for days now, and Kaeya nods. “This is it, Kaeya. Your last chance. You are our only hope.” His fingers dig tight into Kaeya’s shoulders. “You understand.”

“I do,” Kaeya says back. This is serious, and he should be taking it seriously, but he has heard these words so often now they’ve become exhausting for him. Still, he says what his father wants to hear: “I understand.”

“Good,” his father says. His hands draw back, and he steps away. He is staring out somewhere over Kaeya’s head—to Khaenri'ah, to home, and there is a bitter curl to his lip and yet a brightness to his eyes. “Good.”

Kaeya waits. His father says nothing else. He prompts, “See you.”

His father pauses. His eyes flicker down to Kaeya, and for a moment he actually seems to see him fully: Kaeya, the chosen son, nine years old and tired from the journey, too-thin wrists and thread-bare hems and all. He considers him. And instead of echoing the words, instead of see you again or good luck or make me proud, all he says is, “Goodbye.”

It is late afternoon and those distant storm clouds are staining red. The wind is beginning to howl. Kaeya stands off on the side of the road, the grasses swaying by his waist, and watches his father leave him behind. It is cold. His fingertips are already going numb. He chuffs his hands and crosses his arms, and settles down to wait.

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By evening it starts to rain, and Kaeya curls his arms around himself and thinks it would be very funny if all their information turned out wrong, and their last chance died out in the brutal storm from the cold. He entertains the idea for a good few minutes, grinning to himself, and then the raindrops start to soak through the cloth he’s tied around his eye, and he is distracted from the hilarity by annoyance. The cold is sinking into his bones.

The dusty road has turned to sludge, and the winds have been echoing mournful howls for hours now—perhaps this is why he misses the coming of the carriage. In the growing twilight shade it is near impossible to see, half-taken by the fog, and Kaeya spots it only moments before he finally hears the creaking wheels over the wind.

His smile falls. He holds himself still. He waits until they are close enough to see him, and then he ducks his head and backs away as if they’ve startled him.

The carriage is slowing to a stop, voices beginning to rise over the wind. The door opens. A man steps out from the carriage, one hand shading his eyes. Even in the gloom, the red of his hair is striking; his face is lined with an age that crinkles warm at his eyes. Kaeya watches him, wary. The rain drips in his eye.

The man has an umbrella, and he props it open. Someone else in the carriage protests. “Master Crepus, please—”

“Peace,” says the man, waving the second voice away, and then he gets the umbrella open and picks his way through the soaked grasses and muddy road to where Kaeya is standing. He is limping slightly; an old injury, maybe, made worse by weather. Kaeya judges the man’s expression and shuffles back another step. The man stops.

“Hello,” he says. He has to raise his voice to be heard over the wind. Kaeya squints at him through the downpour. “What are you doing out here, child?”

Kaeya opens his mouth and closes it again. He hesitates. At last, he calls back. “I’m waiting.”

“For what?”

For you. “My father. He said—he’s coming back.” He is not. The lie curls at his toes; not so much the act of lying but the fact it’s a lie at all. Goodbye. What a wash.

The man’s face is blank, and he takes in this answer with a flicker of a frown. “Back from where? Is he nearby?” 

This time Kaeya stays silent, and looks away. The rain has soaked his hair flat; the water is icy cold against his skin. He makes a face down at the road.

“Boy,” the man says, after a pause, “you are just about soaked through. This storm is… do you have somewhere you can go?”

“He said he was going to get some juice,” Kaeya says. This lie, at least, is easy to speak aloud. “He said to wait here, I—”

“When was this?”

Another long pause.

“Child—”

“This afternoon.”

This time the silence weighs heavy. Kaeya keeps his eye on the ground, trying to think of how a fearful, abandoned child should act; but he’s tired now, all of a sudden, too tired to really sell the lie. He can’t stop shivering. He is starting to get a little angry. He is playing his part and playing it well, but this man is forgetting his lines. Say something already.

It occurs to him that maybe Crepus Ragnvindr is deciding what to do, that perhaps he is wary about taking in this strange, half-staved boy from the road. Maybe Kaeya should push it a little, ask for a night of shelter and then “offer” to help work around the winery to pay him back. A fair bit suspicious at first, perhaps, but if he keeps his head down, they’ll probably forget about him within the month, and he will be free to act. Kaeya can do that. He lifts his head—

“Master Crepus!” someone from the carriage calls, and the man turns away.

“Yes,” he says, sounding annoyed now. “I know, I know, just a moment!” And before Kaeya can speak he has turned back to face him, is crouching down carefully to Kaeya’s level and offering out his hand. Kaeya blinks at it. “I’m sure your father will come back soon,” he says warmly, and Kaeya’s planned response falters at that. For a moment he almost wants to laugh. You do? I don’t. “But it is getting dark, and I can’t in good conscience let a child wander about in a storm. How about this— let me shelter you for the night, and when this storm has passed we can come back here and wait for your father to return together. Is that all right?”

Kaeya stares at him. The man smiles patiently back. He looks tired too.

He should build the lie further, Kaeya knows; he should act his role a little longer yet. But he’s cold, and his fingers feel frozen, and deep down Kaeya feels a little like his insides have turned to ice too. The momentary warmth of his father’s hand on his shoulder has faded.

And in the end, all Kaeya says is, “Okay.”

If the man is suspicious about how quickly Kaeya gives in, it doesn’t show on his face. He is smiling, looking almost relieved; he stands and beckons Kaeya to the carriage. “I am Crepus,” he says, kindly. “What is your name, boy?”

“Kaeya.” He bites his last name back behind his teeth at the final moment. Alberich, no longer. He has to get used to it.

“Kaeya?” It is not a Mondstadt name, Kaeya knows, and holds himself briefly still, but all Master Crepus does is hum. “It is nice to meet you. Come along, then—let’s get you out of the cold.”

Suspicious, wary, and in no position to argue, Kaeya follows him.

The carriage is a fancy thing, and bigger than first thought. As a man comes down from the side to take back Master Crepus’s umbrella, Master Crepus reaches over Kaeya’s head and opens the door, gesturing him onward. Inside is dimly lit and another man is settled in the opposing seat, brown-haired and masked and scowling. Kaeya pauses in the door.

“What is this?” the second man demands. “Master Crepus—”

“Good sir,” Master Crepus says, from behind Kaeya. Kaeya looks back at him, and when Master Crepus gestures him on again, resists the urge to roll his eyes and finally climbs into the carriage. “This is Kaeya. He will be joining us on our ride to the winery—I trust you have no objections?” The man opens his mouth. “Wonderful,” Master Crepus says, before the other can speak. “The Fatui are truly generous. The Tsaritsa is lucky indeed to have such people as her subjects.”

He climbs inside the carriage and closes the door, and raps his fist against the wall. With a quiet lurch, the carriage starts to move. The man scowls, briefly, but does not try to speak again.

Kaeya sits against the far wall on the edge of the seat, his legs hanging over the drop. His fingers seize up and he rubs at them again. The air is too warm here, too hot—his fingertips, once frozen, now feel as if he’s set them on fire. He curls his aching hands in and out of fists and keeps his eyes on the window.

Outside the closed doors of the carriage, the storm is rattling still; in contrast the carriage itself sits in silence. Master Crepus watches Kaeya with the slightest of frowns, a knot of worry in his brow; the Fatui man avoids looking at Kaeya at all. Kaeya keeps his eye on the window. The falling rain, the meandering road; still, he watches it all, gaze fixed on the distant and misty fields, the swaying grass dripping rain. He wonders how far his father has gone. He wonders if his father has left Mondstadt yet, if he has found shelter from the storm, if he is still thinking of Kaeya at all.

Master Crepus has promised to bring him back here, and something about that sits bitter in Kaeya’s chest. There is nothing left to be found. But he is not angry. He is not upset. Because when it comes to this, to this last chance and last hope, this final oath taken by that final campfire, Kaeya has always understood.

[phoneybeatlemania-bit-the-dust]

Mclennon fic recs pretty please 🥺

So I made a list of fic recs (x) awhile back, and I still stand by most of these as being some of my all time favourites - so id recommend looking through that! But my recent faves that arent on the list are:

1. The Contract by JP (jpgr1963)

A novel-length slash story about John and Paul's relationship from their teen years to the 1980s, with many flashbacks and flash forwards. Includes much canon history as well as alternative universe possibilities. This work is complete.

2. Only a nothern song by StonedLennon

AU. Paul works at a record shop, takes night classes to be a teacher, and has sworn off his childish dream of being a musician. John Lennon is a dock worker, poet, and disturber of the peace. In which the story had to be diverted before they could come together. Liverpool, 1963.

If anyone knows any fics they think id like, feel free to send me them! <3

Personally with fanfiction, I don’t tend to like AU’s (especially set in entirely different environments or with the Beatles specifically, the modern day). Im also really picky about dialogue and characterisation, so unless its on point, im just gonna really struggle to get into it. So what im getting at here is that I don’t actually read that much fanfic, cause im too picky haha. Nothing against anyone who writes AUs or anything, we just all have our preferences.

In general, I enjoy fics set in domestic situations, with more focus on dialogue and relationships etc. rather then plot. I especially love “growing old together” fics, and I think we have been starved of them by fic writers in the beatles fandom, cause ive scoured every corner AO3 and there just is not enough 😤

I was re-reading through some of my fics recently, and I think most of them are actually pretty solid, but I need to go back and reword and edit a lot of them, cause the sentences can be pretty clunky y’know. There was a point where I was getting so many fic request asks that I was getting a bit too overwhelmed, and then I just sort of ran out of steam. And I think it was good practice (reading and comparing my earlier writings with my later writings, I think I have shown an actual improvement which is great!), so im not complaining or anything - but if anyone’s wondering why I haven’t written anything in awhile, thats basically why. But id like to get back into it, cause it was fun and I enjoyed it. So I dunno, I might post a list of prompts maybe? Or update my AO3 story? Im tempted to just start an entirely new series on AO3 actually, but it just has to come naturally to me.

[seenashwrite]

Changes for Nash

I'm going to be pulling back the time I spend on here in various ways, and if you'd like to know in what ways you can find the basic scoop below the cut.

To new followers - I hate that you've arrived just in time to see this, but I must hit “pause” and look after myself. Story-wise (and otherwise!) there's quite a bit of original content to peruse, so I hope this will satisfy you for the time being.

To all of the Nashooligans  - please understand this does not mean I won't still post things and queue things. I've got a ton of stuff in drafts (thank you notes, replies, feedback, etc.) that will get posted in due time. I'm not disappearing. I'm not dropping the friendships I've made and the chats we have/the things we share/etc., nor a couple of challenges I agreed to and the side-blog projects I’ve committed to work on with others.

For those of you who don't read further, I'll close for you with a heartfelt...

Much lurve - Nash.

What’s changing / stopping:

I've been doing some purging offline, and now have starting doing some purging online. As there are many of you I consider friends and as I have a good chunk of devoted readers/participants in my shenanigans around here, I feel I owed you the scoop on what's changing (at least for now). 

The TL;DR is that “major” original content (things that require great time investment) are not going to be making an appearance for the near future.

So, here are the things related to how I am choosing to spend my time in the context of my activity in the world of fanfic/SPN for the future/near future:

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* Some projects are indefinitely on hold and some projects are cancelled altogether (see freshly updated Works In Progress post); I will fulfill my remaining challenge commitments as promised, and while perhaps it will be more abbreviated than normal, I will do my best not to kick out anything less than what y’all expect from me creativity-wise

* I've pulled everything from FF.net - the user end is too cumbersome, I'm tired of wasting time on it. I've left everything up on AO3, no plans to take it down from there. I've actually been going through the works there and editing formatting that slipped through the cracks. One thing I am doing is ceasing with adding cute images to stuff, simply not willing to spend the time on it; I may or may not remove the things for which images are necessary to understanding references in a story; we'll see

* Speaking of images - and videos and gifs and whatnots - no more any time soon; I promised one to someone and that’s already done, it’ll be stuck in the Q

* The Nail is on indefinite hold, very possibly will no longer happen; I may whip up an abbreviated version with the fics I had prepped for the next edition, or I'll individually reblog them - priority going to those with less than 100 notes - with brief versions of my usual in depth commentary as time permits; we'll see

* CASPN has been a commitment of mine each week > 1 year, minus the 3 weeks or so absence in the fall due to an injury that resulted in an unexpected hospital stay; I know this is a favorite weekly "break" for a good handful of you; I think I just need my own break. I know for sure I'm no longer able/willing to work on the decks, it is likely more of a time-suck than people realize to comb scripts, get the format for workable Qs and As right, maintain the whole shebang, etc.; bottom line: I just don't know. Like I say, I think I need a hiatus. Maybe until the season premiere. I'll keep thinking about it, let you know on Thursday where I'm at.

* The couple of side blog endeavors I’m pleased to be part of will still keep happening, I committed to it and I’m not gonna leave y’all in a lurch. Plus, that stuff’s fun, and not being in charge of ‘em means less stress and less time consumption

* Having said that, I won't be finishing up the substantial behind-the-scenes work I’ve already done on the SPN Theft Watch blog that is still in construction mode; I'm not deleting it, I'm just not willing to invest time in it right now. I still have several outstanding issues to deal with regarding the personal theft that came over to Tumblr and the reblogs that still have not been deleted. There are a few I still need to give a second notice to; the ones who have now ignored me after 2x, I'm reporting

* I won't be taking on "Dear Nash" things that ask for writing advice, offering up the "Dear Nash: Script Doctor Edition" option, re-blogging any of my writing tips; to the Nonners who asked for a complete master post of such, and the Nonners who asked for a post on how to give and accept critique, I'm putting those on the back burner as well; I also won't be passing along writing tips from professionals; basically nothing under the umbrella of “advice” [ETA: I have done this once since this post (months later) and it went okay. Will consider doing again]

ETA - Neglected to mention that I’ve had an idea for a gift for y’all when/if I hit 1K followers - the “materials” have been accumulating in a bookmark folder - and it’s unlike anything/any concept I’ve seen during my tenure in the fandom. It may take awhile, but I do still plan on doing it.

And if you care to know more scoop about the why... well, the “why” of the tipping point(s) that made me seriously ponder on what I’ve been feeling for awhile now... that’s on a page I made here. 

(Spoiler alert: I’m not angry, there’s no hurt fee-fees, it’s just realization about what I choose to spend my time on and what I get out of those things, how much joy it would bring me and how that’s shifted.)