#miss peregrine's home for peculiar children | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

cece693 · 1 day ago

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You're Just Jealous I Have Him

pairing: enoch o'connor x male reader tags: I never liked Emma tbh, just looking at her gives me a headache, like what do you mean it's totally normal to like the grandson of your ex, like ew, enoch just being his sassy self, Emma is mad, I had so much fun writing this, they're all of age even if there's no smut

You’d lost track of how many times you and Enoch had slipped away from the others to steal a quiet moment alone. Inside the loop, time was an endless repeat of the same day, but your heart felt anything but repetitive whenever you were together. The clandestine nature of your relationship created a heady excitement—an electric undercurrent that made every glance, every accidental brush of hands, burn brighter.

Tonight is no different.

The wooden banister pressed into your back as Enoch crowded you against it, his hand curving gently around your cheek. That fleeting moment was all you had before dinner—another stolen breath in the endless loop of days. “Miss Peregrine is calling,” you said quietly, though you made no move to leave. Neither did Enoch, who dipped forward, lips ghosting over yours in a featherlight kiss that made your pulse flutter.

“You should do that more often.”

You blinked. “Do what?”

“Look at me like that,” he answered, with a grin that was equal parts cocky and affectionate. Then, as if reality caught up to him, his features fell back into their usual stoic mask. “We should go. If we’re late again, she’ll start questioning.”

Together, you descended the stairs into the foyer. The other children were already making their way to the dining room. You felt a small, simmering tension as soon as you stepped inside. Emma was at the table, arms folded, eyes bright with an aggravation she didn’t bother hiding. Enoch’s jaw clenched almost imperceptibly. You gave his hand a reassuring squeeze beneath the table before sitting down. As you settled into the meal—tonight it was soup, bread, and roasted vegetables—you could feel Emma’s gaze boring into you. It prickled along your skin.

Plates clinked, children chatted, and Miss Peregrine oversaw it all with her usual poise. Millard—still invisible—cracked jokes that had Claire giggling. Bronwyn helped serve the stew, her unnatural strength making the heavy pot look weightless. Olive floated just a few inches above her chair, anchored only by a weighted belt. But none of that could distract you from the heat radiating off Emma—hotter than any flame she could conjure.

Finally, Emma cleared her throat. “So,” she began, voice pitched loud enough to slice through the general chatter, “M/N, you’ve been busy these last few evenings.”

A hush spread like a ripple. Your palms grew clammy, and Enoch immediately set down his spoon, eyes locked on Emma. “Yes, well,” you started slowly, “I’ve been helping Enoch with some projects.”

It was a half-truth; most of your private time with Enoch was far from “work.” Emma let out a humorless laugh. “Oh, I’m sure those projects are quite involved. Enoch is known for his…fixations.” Her tone was pointed and dripping with venom.

You bristled. Enoch’s face was utterly still, but you sensed the tension coiling beneath his calm exterior. “Don’t be crass, Emma,” he said, voice low. “You’re the last person who should talk about fixations.”

She scowled, a small flame sparking to life in her palm and dancing dangerously close to the tablecloth before she clenched her fist to snuff it out. “Oh?” She leaned forward, elbows on the table. “And what exactly do you mean by that?”

Enoch’s lips curled into a sarcastic half-smile. “You know precisely what I mean.”

Your heart thudded painfully at the tension. Emma’s eyes flicked to you, softening for a split second before anger hardened her expression once again. “I think,” Emma continued, adopting a saccharine tone, “if there’s something going on, especially involving someone I—someone we all—care about, it should be shared.” Her gaze pinned you, and a cold knot twisted in your stomach. She’d been growing bolder recently: trying to corner you for chats, sending you notes that bordered on obsessive. You’d tried to let her down gently, but Emma was relentless.

Miss Peregrine looked up from her plate, brow furrowed. “Emma, please drop the subject,” she warned, her eyes glinting dangerously as though she already understood exactly what was happening. But Emma ignored her.

Instead, she leveled Enoch with a challenging stare. “You’ve been monopolizing M/N. It’s not fair.”

Bronwyn set the soup pot down with a thump, frowning. Horace, always a little too intrigued by drama, swept his gaze around the table, uneasy. Enoch’s jaw set. “Grow up, Emma. M/N spends time with me because he wants to.”

She snorted. “Wants to? Or do you have him under some twisted manipulation?”

Your eyes widened. The accusation was ludicrous, but Emma seemed too riled to notice. Her words stung. “Hey, that’s enough,” you said firmly, pushing down your nerves. “It’s not like that, Emma.”

“Then what is it like?” she demanded, voice quivering with anger. “Why is it that every time I look for you, Enoch’s there, lurking like some grim shadow, glowering at me if I so much as breathe in your direction?”

“Don’t flatter yourself,” Enoch snapped. “I glower at everyone.”

Emma shoved her chair back abruptly, eyes flicking to Miss Peregrine. “Do you hear this? He’s impossible!”

Miss Peregrine’s eyes narrowed. “Emma, calm yourself. Let’s discuss this civilly—”

“I’m done being civil!” Emma erupted, standing. Sparks flew from her clenched fists. “He keeps M/N away from me, taunts me—”

“Well, perhaps if you weren’t so obsessed,” Enoch snapped back coldly, “you’d see that M/N doesn’t want that kind of attention from you!”

Emma’s jaw dropped, fury tightening her features. “Obsessed? How dare you—” She trembled, small flames crackling along her fingertips. “Why can’t you just say it?” Her gaze swept from Enoch to you and back. “Why can’t you just tell everyone the truth about you two?”

Your stomach plummeted; she was forcing you into the corner you and Enoch had tried so hard to avoid. “Emma,” Miss Peregrine warned again, voice dangerously low. “Drop it.”

Emma turned her ire on Miss Peregrine. “I will not. Why should I have to hide whatever this is?” Her eyes flicked to yours, something close to heartbreak twisting her features. “Why him?” she whispered bitterly. “What’s so special about Enoch?” Then she turned to Enoch. “You don’t deserve him,” she hissed, each word sharp as glass. “If he was with me, I’d ensure his happiness, not drag him into your bleak little world of scowls and pickled hearts.”

Enoch bristled. You felt anger roll off him in waves as he rose from his chair, palms slamming flat on the table. “My ‘bleak little world,’ as you call it, is far better than the whining and fire-hazard tantrums you throw every time you don’t get your way.” With a furious growl, Emma slammed her hand down, flames licking the edge of the tablecloth. Bronwyn gasped and lunged forward to pat it out. Miss Peregrine shot to her feet, but both Emma and Enoch were too caught up in their confrontation to notice.

“All I see is a bitter, lonely boy clinging to the first bit of affection he’s ever had,” Emma spat, eyes blazing. “An unlovable—”

“Enough!” Miss Peregrine’s sharp cry rang out, cutting the air like a whip. The sudden quiet was deafening. Emma’s flames sputtered, Enoch froze, and every other child in the room went rigid in their chairs. Miss Peregrine placed her napkin on the table with a deliberate calm that spoke volumes of her anger. Her eyes, usually kind and watchful, were now cold as steel as she addressed Emma first.

“Ms. Bloom,” she said sternly, “I have given you ample opportunity to discuss your concerns rationally. Instead, you’ve allowed jealousy to consume you and endangered our home by letting your emotions run wild. You will go to your room immediately and remain there until I summon you. You will use that time to reflect on your behavior. Am I understood?”

Emma stared, mouth slightly agape. Sparks still crackled at her fingertips, but they started to die down. For a moment, it looked like she might argue further, but Miss Peregrine’s glare was uncompromising. “…Fine,” Emma muttered at last, voice trembling with residual anger and humiliation. She tore her gaze away, marched out of the dining room, and disappeared up the stairs without another word.

The silence that followed was thick and suffocating. You could feel Enoch shaking beside you; he was doing his best to keep himself in check. Bronwyn looked worried, Horace fidgeted anxiously, and Olive hovered a little higher in her seat, unsettled by the tension.

At length, Miss Peregrine exhaled a measured breath. “The rest of you may clear your plates and retire. I will speak to Enoch and M/N privately.” A murmur rippled through the children; curiosity and concern danced in their eyes, but they obeyed. The scrape of chairs and clink of dishes soon faded away, leaving you, Enoch, and Miss Peregrine in the quiet dining room.

She beckoned you both to stand. Her expression remained firm as she regarded you, then Enoch. “I am not blind to the deeper nature of your connection,” she began carefully, “I had hoped you two would come to me on your own time. However, given the events tonight, it seems I must step in.” Your heart hammered. You felt Enoch’s hand slip into yours, his grip tight but reassuring. There was a moment’s hesitation before Miss Peregrine’s features softened—just a fraction.

“We are a family here, and I care for each one of you deeply.” Her tone was resolute, but gentler now. “If you and Enoch have found something special in each other, then it is your right to hold onto it. No one—certainly not Emma—has the authority to deny you happiness. Do you understand?”

Your throat felt thick with emotion. “Y-Yes, Miss Peregrine,” you managed. Enoch nodded, murmuring his agreement.

“I will not tolerate hostility or this level of disrespect again,” Miss Peregrine continued, brow creasing. “Enoch, you must learn to manage your temper; cruelty only begets more cruelty. M/N, you should feel safe to speak up if anyone makes you uncomfortable." After a moment of silence, Miss Peregrine hugged both of her wards gingerly. "Now go on," she said, pulling back with a small smile, gesturing to the door. “The both of you are excused."

She paused then, her stern expression warming ever so slightly. “You belong here, both of you. Don’t ever doubt that.” Those final words pulsed through you like a gentle reassurance. Miss Peregrine was giving you the acceptance you’d feared might be withheld. With a small, grateful bow of your head, you and Enoch slipped out of the dining room.

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hannahhook7744 · 5 months ago

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Why Franklin and Maryann Portman are the Worst™ (Part 1)!;

I want to preface this by saying that I know that by no means Franklin and Maryann Portman are the actual worst parents in fiction or in this series even.

Of course they aren't.

But that doesn't mean that I can't still refer to them as the worst™ for them being shitty. Even if I do believe that on some leave that they do care about/love their son.

I also wanna point out that it's been awhile since I read the books so I'm going off my memory and the wiki for this. So I may forget some context of why this or that happens, and if I do that, feel free to comment it down below respectfully. And if I forget something that you find shitty that they did, also feel free to reblog or comment it down below because I would love to talk about these characters and fandom more.

Am I saying that Abe Portman is 100% perfect and did nothing wrong whatsoever? No, that would go against how his character is betrayed in the books—as a flawed traumatized man who did his best to be there for his family and keep them and himself (as well as others) safe and went about some things the wrong way.

Now that that's out of the way…

According to the wiki:

“Jacob was born on Halloween, and up until he was eight years old was convinced by his parents that trick-or-treating candy was birthday presents (something apparently revealed in Hollow City).”

These people are rich.

R-I-C-H.

Rich enough that Jacob’s dad can study birds and volunteer and write mine books that he never publishes without the worry of them not having anything to eat.

R-I-C-H enough that Jacob comments that “I did love her, of course, but mostly because loving your mom is mandatory, not because she was someone I think I'd like very much if I met her walking down the street. Which she wouldn't be, anyway; walking is for poor people.” And rich enough that they gave their kid their four year old sundan so that they could get a brand new car.

And for eight years, they had their son believing that candy was a birthday present.

1. Now, look. I get it. Birthday shopping is hard, especially for a little itty bitty kid but not actually having the money to buy your only kid gifts and choosing not to because people are handing out candy on that day anyway? That's not a very nice thing to do for that long.

They let him go through three years of school thinking that and we never learned how he found out that was a lie. That's not even including the fact that the rest of their extended family let this lie continue (assuming they knew).

Can you imagine if Jacob found out because he mentioned this to his classmates or a teacher? Maybe a teacher or family member could salvage the situation but little kids can be brutal, especially towards other little kids who they think are wrong and considering we know that in that same year, Jacob was pants-ed causing him to stop believing anything Abe said…. It's not entirely out of the realm of possibility tl believe that one of Jacob's classmates got in a fight with him over it and caused some kind of embarrassing, painful memory.

Though I guess it's a good thing they didn't get Jacob birthday presents that early on considering my second point.

2. The birthday scene.

Look at his birthday scene.

This scene? Shouldn't really exist.

Not because I hate birthday scenes but because Jacob literally told his parents he didn't want a party which under normal circumstances is a reasonable ask within itself. But these? These aren't even normal circumstances.

Jacob doesn't want a party because the one person he'd actually want there, in his own words, is his grandpa. His grandpa who died in his arms nine months before and who Jacob has been viciously mourning for said nine months. His grandpa whose death caused Jacob's ‘mental breakdown’.

Whose house they had also cleaned out recently, doing shit all for the now sixteen year old’s mental health and grief.

But what do his parents do?

Throw him a surprise party.

A surprise party.

For their jumpy traumatized son who found his grandpa bleeding out in the dark after getting attacked by a monster (or ‘rabid dogs’) and who has been sleeping in the fucking laundry room.

Why on earth would going against his wishes be good for him? He said he didn't want a party and under these circumstances, it's even more understandable. If you really want your son to socialize or to celebrate, then get him a cake or some food he likes and invite his friend over. Talk to him.

Don't throw him a party he doesn't want and don't throw the kid who's been having non-stop nightmares about the monsters who killed his grandfather a fucking surprise party.

To make matters, in this party:

One of his uncles he’s not close to tries to spring a summer trip to his house on him, listing shit that he likely knows Jacob doesn't like with no previous warning to the kid himself (his parents were just planning to ship him off, whether he wanted it or not).

They're calling Jacob's apparent disorder ‘his thing’.

And nobody is actually getting him anything he wants. Just shit they've been gifted and are trying to get rid of.

Gifts like CD's of country Christmas music or subscriptions to Field and Stream (because his Uncle Les thinks he's outdoorsy, this one I can understand slightly since Jacob did want to be an adventurer but still).

The only exceptions being:

1. The key to the family four-year-old sedan, which Jacob is embarrassed to be receiving in front of Ricky (who Jacob hasn't talked to in a long while after a fight they had).

And

2. A camera Jacob had been wanting for ages (since last summer) from his parents….who likely only gifted it to him because of his dad's new book.

Which leads to his mom drunkeningly making front of her husband at her sixteen year old’s birthday party…. Real classy.

Oh and 3. A book that belonged to Abe that Jacob's parental Aunt Susie snagged trom the house when they were cleaning it out. A book titled “The Selected Works of Ralph Waldo Emerson”.

She gave this to him, saying it was from Abe because he'd written Jacob's name in it.

Thoughtful right?

Well everyone else doesn't think so because they go quiet. Jacob's mom, Maryann even while drunk, tries to say it was thoughtful and that she didn't know Abe was a reader.

Meanwhile Jacob's dad, Franklin, is barely hiding how pissed he is.

Like dude.

Dude.

Do you really hate your own dad so much that you don't want your grieving son to have even just a book of poems that the only member of the family who he was close to left for him? Are you still, even after that disastrous day where you cleaned out the fucking house with him there and fought with him, refusing to let him have any ties left?

To be fair, you can say that this is because of his own history with Abe and that it's because Jacob is in a worrying state. But that doesn't really hold up considering that they let Abe babysit Jacob often and fill his head up with stories they thought he embellished due to his own trauma and because they thought that Jacob was well enough to handle trashing and donating all of his dead grandpa’s stuff.

Sure, they don't take the book from him but the fact Franklin can't even hide how pissed he is is shitty.

That's not even considering this little tidbit here:

“My mother leaned toward me and in a tense whisper asked if I needed a drink of water, which was mom-speak for keep it together, people are staring.”

….

Do I even need to say anything?

The fact that Jacob thinks this probably means that his parents—or even just Maryann—have said this to him before. Frequently so, even. To the point where he's trying to escape the room, feeling like he might cry, and instead of thinking that his parents (or anyone in this family) might be able to potentially comfort him in this hard moment, this is what he's thinking.

It's infuriating.

But not as infuriating as my last point for now!

3. Franklin sent his then fifteen year old son to deal with what he thought was his dementia ridden, war world 2 veteran father having a PTSD attack/episode.

Franklin gets called when he's volunteering at a bird rescue in what is either early afternoon or night by his worried fifteen year old said who tells him that Abe called him ‘flipping out’.

He asks if he's taken his pills today and Jacob tells him Abe wouldn't tell him.

At this point, any reasonable adult would go and help their poor ailing father who may be having an episode or PTSD attack about the war, what happened to his family. The monsters.

At this point, any reasonable adult would send their son home out of danger and call up a friend or sibling or in-law to go deal with the situation.

What does Franklin do?

He sends his fifteen year old, who is at his job, to go check on Abe. Who again, Franklin thinks is having an episode.

Now, even if there was a chance that Abe would still recognize Jacob and wouldn't be a danger to him, who would risk sending their son to check on an ailing relative by himself when there's every chance that when Jacob gets there he'll be having flashbacks to the horrors he witnessed. I mean, it's understandable if you or another adult is there and need help calming the man for you to maybe have your teenage son there. Especially if he may be caring for him one day out of choice.

But sending your fifteen year old there by himself to handle the situation when he probably won't know what to do and when he probably hasn't seen one before?

And doing that when you know that your dad was in a war and still has a sea of weapons hidden away behind lock and key (a key which you have) because you can't be half assed to tell the shelter your volunteering at that there's a family emergency?

Franklin literally sent Jacob into a traumatizing situation that could turn dangerous (for Abe or Jacob, if Abe didn't recognize his grandson) under the assumption that all of his paranoid dad's weapons are stored away.

And what did Abe die with in his hand?

A box cutter.

Which just proves that Abe had things lying around that he could use as a weapon if needed. Things he could improvise with.

Just think for a moment about what could have wrong if Abe wasn't actually in danger from a wight but something he was actually imagining—a memory from his past. Imagine what could have happened to Jacob if Abe had mistaken him for a burglar or a wight or what Franklin thought he was imagining.

Jacob can't fight.

It's dark.

Things could easily go wrong.

And what would happen if they did?

Jacob would be hurt and traumatized or dead and Abe would likely be in a horrible place if he wasn't, all because Franklin didn't care enough about his dad to go check on him himself. Hell you can he didn't even care about Jacob enough here, because he didn't care about what Jacob could possibly see if he sent him to deal with his grandfather.

Like, not only is he being incredibly shitty to his son but to his own ailing father who was at the very least convinced he was in danger and who was actually in danger (for all Franklin knew his dad could have actually heard someone breaking in but he didn't even take the time to think about it).

That's all I have time to write for today but there's several other things that they do that are pretty crappy where their son is involved that I will happily discuss.

Hope this doesn't disappoint, @kallmeweirdhprroe .

#miss peregrine's home for peculiar children #the portman family #jacob portman #maryann portman #abe portman #rant/list #this isn't even considering the disgusting way Jacob's parents talk/think about Abe and Jacob when they think they're unwell #Or their horrible views they passed on to Jacob #just. they are the worst

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