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fractiflos.bsky.social
@fractiflos.bsky.social
12 followers 6 following 16 posts
I'm also Fractiflos on Tumblr and JaneAliceRosewood on Ao3. You can call me Jane. (She/her)
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fractiflos.bsky.social
#WIPSnips for the word "prophet"

This is great for the second short story in the collection, which is about a cult and is also a retelling of the Abraham and Isaac almost sacrifice story.
Screenshot of text that says - To her surprise, the door was unlocked and when she went in, she heard two familiar voices. One of course, belonged to her mother of course, but the other was Jemma Throw, the librarian. A woman in her early twenties with long dark curls and dark hooded eyes who was well known for being emotional, though Isabelle couldn’t blame her. It must be hard being one of God’s prophets, trying to advise people with varying success. “—no. Neither of us have heard anything so there’s no need to start making plans.” “We can’t wait around forever. His time is running out and he needs to be here when it’s time.” Oh, that’s who they were talking about. Her father, more accurately, when he would finally die now that his dementia had progressed to the point he was completely bedbound. Though she wasn’t sure what event her mother was talking about. They were so wrapped up in conversation they must not have heard her enter. The good thing to do was announce her presence so she didn’t overhear anything. But why hadn’t her mother told her that she was going to ask Jemma about her father’s death date? That was a conversation she wanted to be there for, one she deserved to be there for. Then again, if they caught her eavesdropping… Her heart quickened at the thought of the disapproving stares, the whispers that would follow, another mark on her tally of sins that might surely send her to Hell. If her mother didn’t want her knowing about this, then she must have had her reasons. “I don’t think he should. I don’t think we need to do this at all. If you want a vision then you should know—” Isabelle opened the door again and shut it loudly. “I’m home!” she announced, walking quickly down the hallway to where it opened up into the living room.
May 21, 2025 at 5:47 PM
fractiflos.bsky.social
#WIPSnips "Cup" implies dinner so I think this applies.

Maybe I should mention it, but he does have a matching blue plastic cup to drink with. The kind of cup you give to a toddler. He's 18.
Screenshot of a document that says - He hid the letters in a book he kept in his backpack, knowing that was the place she searched the least, and headed to the kitchen for dinner. His plate, a small plastic blue plate used for four year olds, was already set with food portioned and cut up as usual. “How was school today?” his father asked. “Good. Now that it’s my senior year, we keep having to do all these worksheets about what we want to do and where we want to go to college even though most people already got their college acceptance letters,” he said with a slight eyeroll. “Not you though. You’re staying right here,” she said, not even bother to sound as if she were joking. There was no disguising her intentions anymore. He would be staying right by her side. Forever. The rice in his mouth suddenly tasted like ash.
May 1, 2025 at 6:21 PM