#divinefell

Hello my dear heart! What a great question! I might even have a satisfactory answer~~

First off, let me clear the air about “You're What I Want” (YWIW). I know for a hot minute I've been saying that the fic is basically cancelled and that I'm not returning to it, mostly because the reception I got was pretty lackluster and I wasn't actually sure if people were reading (which is a stupid train of thought but I digress). It definitely wasn't NEARLY as well received as WDYW was (which, none of my fics have been as well received as WDYW, that fic was lightning in a bottle for me).

But... As I've grown older, and as time has passed, with a couple more fics, one shots and the like under my belt — I've learned to deal with that kind of disappointment a bit better I suppose? And I was rereading some of the old YWIW chapters for nostalgia purposes... And it hit me then... That YWIW... Was ... Peak! LITERALLY PEAK! And I was like, "Wait why did I drop this???” Like don't get me wrong, it has its flaws, the same kind of flaws many sequels have, but the more and more I read the more I wished I'd never put it down. SO...

I am going to... Erm, OFFICIALLY renew YWIW for a part 2! I don't know if I'll keep it at 80 chapters. I might try to tighten it to 40 + an Epilogue. Because the WDYW world and her readers deserve a satisfying, complete ending.

Now, I don't know when I'll get around to writing it again, but do know that I have NOT abandoned it. I WILL continue it, and once I have ALL of it finished and ready to be published, rest assured I WILL announce it and there will be regular updates once again.

— NOW! Onto the NEXT half of your question —

What new Frans fics do I have planned? Well if you've been following, you're probably aware of my Mafiafell Fanfic idea, "Divine Intervention" (I'm going to shorten this to "DivineFell" once it comes out I think) Now this one I'm really excited about! I do think I'll finish TMDG before I publish it, just so I'm not bogging myelf down with projects but THIS one... I love this one.

Let me set the scene -

The year is 1925. Calvin Coolidge is President, Charlie Chaplin's “Gold Rush” is a box office hit, Prohibition is in full swing, and somewhere, in some industrializing city, Frisk Fitzgerald is conning some poor sod with her quote unquote "psychic powers." The hustle is enough to scrape by, but Frisk wants more than scraping by, she wants her name written in the stars. So when she has a vision that could send the Demon-riddled Mafia scrambling, she doesn't hesitate to attempt and blackmail the gangsters into getting her connected with big cats in the silent film industry.

Only one problem, the Mafia doesn't take well to threats, and instead of fame and glory, all she gets is a hitman known only as The Reaper on her tail. Thank her lucky stars she has Divine Intervention.

If that sounds like something you would like to read! Definitely let me know! I may not be writing just yet, but I would love to answer any questions, asks or to fulfill requests for character designs or art! In the meantime it will have to wait until TMDG is completed as I really don't want to overwhelm myself with too many projects rn.

as for my other AUs, only one of them is a fic, and that's my break up au, "One Day I'll Wake Up, Appalled."

Turbotale is strictly an art au, as in I only really want to progress it via comic strips or little drawings, and I think my outlook is the same for my Zombie Apocalypse au, "The Determined Dead." As for KOTCS... I really don't know. That one will probably HAVE to be a fic but it's so far down on my priority list I think it'll have to survive off of audience requests. IF Y'ALL WANT KOTCS CONTENT, PLEASE HIT UP MY INBOX! If the demand is there, I will deliver! That goes for all of my AUs!

If you love and want to see more of Baby Face, Westfell, Zombies, racecars, hell, if you miss WDYW, I highly HIGHLY encourage you to harass me in my inbox! I'm chronically online, so I'll definitely see it! The Frans fandom is extremely small and it takes more than artists and writers to keep it afloat! For fandom to thrive, it takes avid readers / dedicated participants like you to engage in and build our little community!

     REGRET RUINS ALL       that Jiang Cheng would allow himself;   it lingers like pestilence,    prowls the darkest corners of his mind poised to debase him when it found him weakest.      he’s heavy-hearted today,    (   but when is he really not ?    )     it’s shameful that he should allow anyone to see him this vulnerable but trusting Xie Lian had always felt natural, right.     he takes his liberties as bruising and hostile as he did anything else;  his belligerence,  it seems,   only ever an extension of himself.  

❛   wow ,  sinbad   . . .  look  at  this  place .  always  knew  you’d  have  a  palace  like  this  one .   ❜

        “  enough,  ENOUGH!  i heard you the first time;  do as you please,  i don’t care so long as my name stays clean.  ”

     @divinefell​​​​​  said:       2 . kiss on the forehead . // from xie lian perhaps ? :o                   prompted                           /                             accepting

   WHAT MORE WERE THEY       but two unlucky,    pitiful fools brought together by the providence and ephemeral good-will of a universe that seemed to spit at them at any given chance ?       what more could they be but that which society scorns and laughs at ?      one a vagabond pauper who found his daily bread in the hawking of trash or a street performance tethered to the mercy of a fickle audience,         the other a lonesome,       cruel,        slightly maddened shell of a young man who’s life had collapsed before he had even begun to live it.  what anomaly could they be together,    what abnormal amalgamation of what was wrong in the universe ?     surely,    theirs would be yet another tragic encounter;    another stripe of the back of a crawling tiger too haggard by the blows of life to walk on all four paws.    

such is what Jiang Cheng expected;     what he received,    petal-soft and forgiving,    was a tenderness so vast he could fill entire oceans with its surplus.     he feels it even now in the simple act of sitting beside Xie Lian,  sensing with keen interest as his palm,   that gentle,  aristocratic limb sheathed in silk,    covers his own rugged fist as it guides oafish strokes of a brush atop paper into something beautiful and elegant.       calligraphy had never been of particular interest to him among the arts a noble young master was urged to learn,      much preferring sword practice to being tucked away behind a writing desk making pretty swipes on paper too expensive even for his own nascent sensibilities for the cost of things.     he had never given much thought to his practical,    swift form of writing nor cared to improve upon it,  never had a reason to consider such things until Xie Lian tumbled into his life.     and wasn’t it strange,    and somewhat exciting,    to suddenly care about something,    about things one would usually scoff at and scorn,     only because the person who seems to have stolen his every bright thought found joy in such things ?

        WEI WUXIAN SAID         ❝ you almost killed me, but i didn’t die. ❞ 

   IT’S STRANGE,       how the rumors he had once dusted off his shoulders like lint disgracing the surface of his sect robes resurfaced now in this confession to feel like knives piercing the fleshy cavity of his chest,       twisting with precision through brittle bones to bruise his tender heart.        the    shroud of regret    sown with the guilt-ridden thread of their tragic story and its violent end has warmed his shoulders for thirteen dreadful,      inescapably lonesome   years.     perhaps his brother’s words should inspire relief,      but they only serve to remind him once more of how sour it all went.       how rabid with the sting of betrayal he had been,     how crazed  with the memory of Yanli’s body growing cold and her weight hardening against his arms   ───    how he had felt that phantom heaviness cave in on him the moment he had brandished sandu upon his brother with killing intent during the siege of Burial Mounds.

Jiang Cheng understood that mending what was broken between them would take considerable amounts of time and willfulness,   the brunt of which was expected of himself.  as much as he liked to pretend that this was simply a favor he was doing his nephew,    who took on the mantle of their begrudged mediator as his mother once had and wore amidst the veil of teenage aggravation her same desire to see them simply get along,     he could not deny a part of himself wailed with a     starved longing    for their reconciliation.     whatever acidic bile coated the walls of his throat at the clarification,     he must swallow it now for the sake of progress;     leave for another conversation the    dismantling guilt    resulting from the attempt to end the other’s life,    despite his failure of execution.  

fortunately,     the evasion of vulnerability is a skill he has mastered to perfection,    dodging easily what evoked in him visceral emotion.      deeming that the allotted time for deep discussions had run its course,    Jiang Cheng beckons from the fountain of memory the threatening voice he used to reserve for chiding Wei Wuxian.    velvety timbre much more mature and weary than the last time his brother had heard it in this tone permeates the words,  intended lightheartedness corrupted by the bulk of his grief and guilt.     ❛   i could still kill you.   ❜        i’m glad i didn’t.