#assisi wips

[s-a-u-l-o-f-t-a-r-s-u-s]

Francis of Assisi in the gardens wip

[winterandwords]

Get to know me tag

Thanks for the tag, @zestymimblo!

Currently Reading: I'm obsessed with The Great Courses on Audible at the moment (audiobooks count as reading, zero tolerance for ableism). Today it's the one about St Francis of Assisi.

Favourite Colour: Black for clothes, silver for jewellery, pink for everything else.

Last Song: Wolves by Jensen McRae

Last Movie: I rewatched Sleepers recently and I forgot how much that film haunts me for days afterwards. Every fucking time.

Sweet/Spicy/Savory: Yes.

Currently Working On: Project Aria (cyberpunk/neon-noir), Spin Cylinder (transgressive/literary) and Project Darwin (contemporary/literary). All queer, all fucked up, very different vibes. Full info and links to WIP pages are in my pinned post.

9 Mutuals You Want To Know Better: You know what? ALL OF YOU. Especially if we're new friends. If you'd like to do this, please @ me so I can see your answers 💜

[gibusaan]

Drawing St. Francis of Assisi on a board to be painted. I'm not Catholic, but it's for a teacher of mine who's a Franciscan Friar.

[alpaca-stitch]

Day 11 is coming along beautifully but I think I need to sleep 😪 Assisi patterns look so stunning 💖

[5lazarus]

For the WIP ask: Assisi or Timely Warning, please! :)

My original work tends to be more intense than my fanfic. I write a lot about rape culture, I write a lot about religion, and I write a lot about politics. I went to Assisi and missed the snow by 36 hours, so this was supposed to be my tribute to what I wanted to see. It’s also about religious disillusionment, queerness, and the difficulty of familial memory, or will be if I ever write it. It snowed as the train left left Perugia. Twenty feet from Santa Maria degli Angeli, the train stalled, and they saw the conductor leave his room to wander down the cars, glancing out the window as he went. They settled against the window, musty in same shirt they’d been wearing for three days, the same pants, and waited. Surely the delay would not be so long. After forty minutes the grittiness behind their eyes turned into a steady pulse of pain, warning that they needed water, warning that they needed a bath, warning that they needed sleep and escape from those fluorescent lights. Nausea was building as the cold increased; at least vomit would be warm. What had they eaten today? A shot of espresso and a croissant would not be pleasant on the way back up.  - Timely Warning--well, in undergrad, every time a student reported sexual assault to campus police, they would send out an email titled “Timely Warning.” Sometimes we’d get three or four in a day. Timely Warning traces one (fictional and fictionalized) person’s story, cut with the emails copy & pasted at each scene shift. here’s nothing graphic or triggering, the opening scene: Close your eyes, I told him, close your eyes. See what I see: lights in the night. Near dusk we lay in the last rays of the afternoon, sheltered by the tree canopy, on an old stone outcrop I called Lindsay’s Point. I had met a girl named Lindsay there, we always hiked there every Wednesday morning, but once we established a shared routine I never saw her again. I held him in my arms and told him to dream. I dreamed, out of season, lights in the night: fireflies. Eyes closed, I saw them dripping from the trees, seeping out the very capillaries of the leaves, adorning the Yggdrasil tree. Rooted deep, they seeped up through the shale, carved out the karst, wore away the sandstone to pebble up the surface, sucked up through the roots, diffused through the trees. I told him to breathe: they pulsed with our breath, unified, on the next beat they flashed with my heart. They seeped out of the canopy, flickered into the sky. I breathed. “Woah,” he said. I opened my eyes. The night was alive with fireflies.