#bc they're in places that can be hidden easily so she can have her “clean” image whereas daisy's were bold and never hidden

[crookedvultures]

you ever see someone who served so much cunt that it completely changes the trajectory of your most prized oc

bonus: the best face card in VH1 history and possibly all of reality tv

[aethelar]

hello! please continue your 'Jacob adopts the Barebones' story (if you want to that is bc I would love to read more!). I have been catching up on your other fbawtft stories and they're all so good!

We left off last time with Jacob and Modesty and Ben the billywig, with Jacob telling Modesty what he knows - what he remembers - about magic, and Modesty telling Jacob about the brother that turned into a monster to keep her safe.

And remember, remember that Jacob’s only kept the good memories of magic. That’s all the swooping evil venom will allow him to have. He remembers magic as something golden and warm, mooncalves and nifflers and the adrenalin rush of bringing the erumpet home safe. Jacob remembers magic as a thing that bakes strudels in mid air, keeps a kingdom of light and wonder hidden in a suitcase, a sweet-sticky shot in an underground speakeasy that makes you giggle out loud when you drink it.

He listens as Modesty tells him about the destruction, the damage, the roiling cloud of angry black smoke. As she stumbles her way through suspicions that her brother had done it before, maybe even killed someone before, Jacob keeps his face carefully clear of the conflict in his mind.

The idea that magic, wonderful, perfect magic could be used to do these things? It doesn’t fit. It can’t fit.

Except. Except.

He kisses Modesty on the forehead and wishes her sweet dreams, and Ben the billywig settles on her bedpost to watch over her sleep. He flicks off the light and waits a minute to hear her saying good night to Ben, waits for the sound of her settling in, then takes himself to the kitchen and retrieves the bottle of brandy from its hiding place under the sink.

The brandy is emptier than he remembers. Much emptier. As if all those times, those moments in the murky depths of his life where he’d had to pull the brandy out and drink from it - as if they’d all been wiped clean.

He clutches it like a safety blanket and doesn’t drink a drop.

“Magic is good,” he tries, keeping his voice hushed and whisper-soft. The words sit right with his memories but feel wrong in the cramped kitchen.

“Magic is dangerous,” he tries next, and yes he can see that - nundus, giant occamies larger than they ought to be and easily startled, brothers who bring down houses when someone threatens their little sister. But at the same time, winter coats that dissolve into flapper dresses, pellets that float when he throws them from the bucket, the crooning song of the marmite in Newt’s cradled arms.

“Magic is.” Magic is. If Modesty is right, then her brother - Credence - is a murderer, maybe more than once. Jacob can’t just overlook that. But things aren’t black and white; Newt’s nundu is marked as kill on sight, and the erumpet could easily have shattered Jacob’s skull, padded helmet or no.

When Jacob slides the brandy back into its hiding place, this is what he remembers from long lessons spent learning hebrew words and patient explanations at his babcia’s knee: only God can truly judge a person.

Good, dangerous, evil - whatever magic is, people are still people. Jacob doesn’t judge people. He feeds them, he hugs them if they need hugging, he brings them flower-patterned dresses that his cousins have outgrown and spends forty minutes trying desperately to put Modesty’s hair in the pretty braids she’s decided she likes, but he doesn’t judge them.

So he pushes himself back up, ignoring how stiff he knees have got from how long he’s been crouched with the brandy in his hand. When he’s standing, he darts a gaze out the window to where the shadows gather behind the streetlamps, and he says, “She misses you.” He doesn’t know if anyone’s listening. If they are, the shadows give no sign, and the silence stretches on uncomfortably long. “I won’t mind,” he says finally, “if you want to visit her. She’d like it. I won’t stop you.”

The shadows say nothing back, but that’s fine. Jacob can be patient. He nods, leaves the cupboard under the sink with its hidden brandy, and turns his thoughts instead to Modesty’s other sibling. What did Modesty say her name was? Charity? Chastity? Either way, she was family, she shouldn’t be left behind.

Jacob adopts the Barebones one | two | three | series tag