#olive elephanta

[cece693]

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.

[ravisconverse]

While I can appreciate both the mphfpc film and the books in their own separate sense, I just can’t help but criticise the film for some of the changes they made.

The aging down of Bronwyn and the aging up of Olive got rid of Bronwyn’s protective trait of the two younger girls.

The peculiarity switch between Emma and Olive was also so pointless. I mean I guess that it kind of makes sense with Emma being like the main “love interest” and her being the zephyr kind of fits more with Burton’s aesthetic, but it’s still very annoying, we deserved firey Emma.

The loop day. What was the purpose of changing the year to 1943 instead of 1940? It makes no sense, just keep it at 1940.

The postcard from Alma. In the books it was 15 years ago, which allowed for more doubt as to whether she would be alive or not. Reducing it to 2 years takes that away.

Every time I rewatch the film and I see the Olive/Enoch relationship I feel sick to my stomach. Enough said

Fiona’s entire character was ripped away and rewritten. Yes her backstory may have been considered too dark for the film, but come on you didn’t have to age her down, reduce her peculiarity and take away her selective mutism.

The aging down of Hugh, Millard and Horace really annoy me. Why are they children? I wanted sassy 17 year old Millard who is angsty and studious and sarcastic, Hugh who both loves and hates being peculiar and is devoted to Fiona, Horace being SCARED of his peculiarity.

I also feel robbed that we didn’t get Emma and Millard kidnapping and interrogating Jake when they first meet him. Or the whole thing with Martin and them having to fight the hollowgast. “Will you quit shouting and let me bleed in peace” you will always be famous.

Even though Alma Peregrine wasn’t accurate in the film, I am in love with how Eva Green portrays her, and how clearly her study of peregrine falcons comes into her acting.

[frost-queen]

To be truthful (Reader x Enoch O'Connor)

Requested by: anon Forever tag: @missmelodramatic, @alex–awesome–22, @ellie-does-the-posts, @floatlosers, @merlieve , @queen-of-books , @glimmering-darling-dolly , @denkisclown , @wildieflower , @meyocoko , @justanothercoco, @subjecta13-thefangirl , @m-rae23 , @harleyquinnswifeyfrfr , @swampything07, @melsunshine , @panhoeofmanyfandoms , @venomsvl , @the-uncoordinated-house-cat , @rosecentury , @imagines-by-her, @evilcr0ne , @vviolynn , @niktwazny303 , @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 , @markive-m

Emma was finishing setting up the table with Fiona. Holding some of the plates, she tilted her head to look into the hallway. – “Didn’t I call for diner a minute ago?” – Emma said out loud, turning around to look at Fiona for confirmation. Fiona shrugged her shoulders, placing a bowl with fresh cut carrots on the table.

“Should I call again? Miss Peregrine insists upon punctuality.” – Emma rambled on, getting nervous that no one was coming through the door. Setting the plates down on the table she had made up her decision. – “I’m calling them!” – she made clear, holding her hands to her hip.

“You’ve just called.” – Fiona answered with a roll of her eyes. Emma was about to shout when Hugh and Claire came running in. Almost running Emma over with their game of tag. Fiona jumped in front of them to stop them before they would bump against the counter.

With her calm hands, she brought them to a stop. Both were panting loud. Fiona simply had to point at Emma then at the table for them to understand. Horace and Millard entered a moment later. Horace chattering loudly as he blindly went to his seat.

Olive and Enoch joined as well. Olive having a soft smile on her lips. They both went to their seats at the table. Emma looked into the hallway with a worried look. – “Where is Y/n?” – she asked. – “Didn’t you call her?” – Emma turned to Olive and Enoch. Enoch sat down, pulling his shoulders up.

“Do I look like her babysitter?” – he answered rudely. Olive gave him a little glare to not be so negative from across the table. Emma’s gaze fixed on the clock, knowing Miss Peregrine would arrive any moment for diner. It made her panic that you still weren’t here.

Enoch jumped out of his skin, startled as he gripped the edges of his chair with a tight grip once you had popped up behind him. – “Bloody hell Y/n!” – he cursed out that you had scared him. You placed your hands on his shoulder, coming to lean over his shoulder.

“Did I startle you Enoch?” – you asked sweetly as he pushed your grip off him. Groaning in annoyance. – “Good of you to join us Y/n.” – Miss Peregrine said entering the room. You quickly went to your seat right across from Emma. – “Good day Miss Peregrine.” – you all called out in unison as she went to sit at the head of the table.

“Fiona splendid work with the vegetables.” – she complimented. Fiona smiled sheepishly, leaning back in her seat rather bashful. – “Now shall we eat.” – she unfolded her napkin to lay it on her lap. The moment was set as everyone got in motion. Reaching for food, chatting and laughing away. From at the other head of the table, you noticed Enoch staring at you or rather glaring at you.

You moved a bit forwards so he could see your face fully. You returned his glare with a sweet smile. Enoch only narrowed his eyes more, swallowing hard. Olive gave him a nudge. – “Stop glaring.” – she whispered to him. Enoch exhaled soft, turning his head away. – “It’s okay Olive. I know Enoch means well.” – you told her with another smile.

Enoch clenched his jaw, trying not to freak out about that. – “Don’t make assumptions for me!” – Enoch replied. – “Why do you dislike Y/n so much?” – Horace questioned as everyone adored you. Enoch leaned a bit forwards. – “Stay out of it.” – he shout-whispered. Miss Peregrine observed from afar. When you turned your head, you caught up with her gaze. With a soft smile, she winked at you.

After diner, the youngest ones were free to play, while the older ones were left to clean the table. You started collecting plates, stacking them on each other. Emma stood by the sink, letting water down to start the dishes. You popped up beside her, giving her a soft fright. – “Goodness Y/n.” – Emma blurted out, one hand on her heart. – “Can’t you just walk. The table is right there.” – she pointed out at how close it was.

It would only take one a few steps to reach her. Yet you chose to teleport yourself beside her. – “Y/n likes to be special.” – Enoch mocked holding a few glasses. You teleported away from Emma, appearing behind Enoch. – “I like teleporting.” – you told him as he had jumped back. With a loud groan he handed the glasses over to Olive.

You started collecting the cutlery. – “Y/n.” – Emma said daringly with a warning finger to not pop up behind her. You puffed soft. – “You are no fun.” – you mumbled, walking up to her instead of teleporting. – “Satisfied?” – you asked dropping the cutlery in the sink. – “Very.” – Emma responded, patting you on the head.  – “Now help me.” – Emma took a towel, laying it on your head, having a laugh at it. You pulled it down.

Giving her a nudge with your hip against her to make some room. Emma started washing the dishes as you dried them. Olive and Enoch putting away the left overs into the fridge. Whilst Enoch was working, he couldn’t help himself but admire you. Gaze upon you and watch what you were doing. Olive noticed it, giving him a little nudge in the side.  – “You are staring.” – she whispered in his ear. – “I am not.” – Enoch grunted out.

He quickly averted his gaze, yet he kept being drawn to you. Emma and you were chatting whilst finished the dishes. Olive joined the two of you, putting the dishes away. Enoch cleaning the table. After cleaning, you immediately popped away. Emma shrugged her shoulders, leaving the room to head outside. Enoch left as well with Olive right behind him. – “Are you going to play with your dolls?” – she asked, holding her hands behind her back.

“Maybe.” – he responded, looking over his shoulder to her. A part of him wondered where you were. With a soft sigh, he went upstairs with Olive. Pausing almost at the top of the stairs, he saw you walk across the hallway to your room. There you were. Olive poked him in the back to move. Enoch got in motion, heading for his room as he couldn’t help himself but glance at your door. Olive noticed it, stopping to knock on your door. – “What are you doing?” – Enoch panicked.

“Asking if Y/n wants to join. Don’t you want that?” – she said having a sense of his feelings towards you. It had become clear to her for a while now that his act of dislike towards you was just a charade. A façade to hide behind. Enoch tugged his hands in his pocket, looking away. Olive knocked again as you hadn’t opened the door yet. Grabbing the handle, she opened the door. – “Y/n?” – she asked softly, popping her head inside.

To her surprise your room was empty. – “Must have teleported out.” – Olive let out, closing the door once more. With a smile, she returned to an almost sweating Enoch. – “Now you mustn’t worry. She’s not here.” – she teased, patting him against his shoulder. They entered his room as Enoch went to sit. A doll in front of him on the table. Olive picked up one of his tools, already presenting it to him.

“Thank you.” – he said accepting the tool. He started working on the doll. – “Enoch.” – Olive started, hearing him hum loud. – “You like watching Y/n do you not?” – she asked as he nearly had a heartache. With wide eyes, he dropped his tool. In shock turning round in his chair to her. – “What?” – he called out. Olive giggled amusingly. – “I’ve noticed you watch Y/n a lot from afar.” – she explained. Enoch puffed loud. – “I do not.” – he replied turning back to his doll.

“It’s alright Enoch, you mustn’t be frightened of it.” – Olive went on handing him another tool. – “Of what?” – Enoch answered bitsy. – “Of having feelings for Y/n.” – Olive finished. Enoch’s hand slipped as he broke a piece off the dolls porcelain chest. He turned around getting up. – “I do not have feelings for Y/n!” – he shouted as Olive was unimpressed. – “Enoch, just admit it. Why are you even scared to admit it?” – she asked. – “I don’t have anything to admit as it isn’t true!” – he made clear with a glare.

“Liar!” – Olive shouted back, having enough of him lying to himself. – “You like Y/n and you are too afraid to admit it.” – she started, poking him in the chest. – “So you better stop being so scared and let yourself love her!” – Enoch fell back in his chair with her sturdy poking in his chest. Speechless, he stared at her. He had never seen her speak so loudly or react so vibrant. – “So Enoch O’Connor, you are going outside, find Y/n and be nicer to her as a beginning.” – she ordered him, pointing firm at the door.

Enoch shook his head, not wanting to do it. Olive removed a glove, showing her hand that caught fire to him. – “Don’t make me burn your puppets.” – she threatened. Enoch stumbled out of the chair, sweating with shock as he rushed downstairs to do as he was told. Too afraid Olive might actually burn his puppets or himself for the matter if he didn’t act upon his feelings. Olive sniffed out the fire, having a satisfying smile on her face.

------------------------------------------

Read more of my fics on my Masterlists!

[derpyy-y]

becoming obsessed with a book series was NOT on my 2024 bingo card!! i didnt even know i could read!!

anyways here is my miss peregrine lineup for the children! ,,,i somehow forgot about the title character and only noticed once i was done lining LMAO— i’ll draw my design for her another time and maybe some other characters. i am sorry miss P i knew something was wrong 💔

kind of iffy on emma, enoch, & jacob but i can tweak them later on if i draw em more BAHAH

anyways my favorite character in the books is horace 🩷🩷 my little fancy prophetic boy . although my favorite designs i did are hugh & fionas :)

i took some inspo from the graphic novels by cassandra jean bc i did really love them!!

anyways i love these books so much if you also like them LET ME KNOW I NEED FRIENDS

extra

[4spiryn4]

/Bought a new apple pencil!! //

I just think that Millard loves personal attention and would be the only person in the house to let the girls play with his hair and do his makeup

(Also I gave Olive and Clair friendship bracelets. And I forgot to draw Millard’s shoes so let’s assume his barefoot or sth , and there’s something wrong with his sleeves byt im going to sleep bye,)

[marygih]

I don't just read the story, I live it.

[generalflowerpolice]

We just need some Wyn and Olive.

I love these girls

[painted-lemon]

no obviously that is two peculiar children playing chess with Miss Hawk there ymbryne caretaker

[enochoconnor-girlie]

Ao3 is down. everyone let’s have a moment of silence 😔

[lov3-lik3-ghosts]

hiii, I was wondering if you could write something with Enoch? Maybe angst to fluff? If not that’s okie!! I hope you’re well <3

Twines Of Fire Ignite Us. Lover, Our Love’s Immortal

Pairing: Enoch O’Connor x fem!reader.

Summary: Your mates heart belongs to her… right?

Warnings: Not beta nor proofread. Use of Y/n. Soulmate!au. Reader has the ability to see souls and entwine them in harmful ways, this has nothing to do with soulmates. Ankh: Ancient Egyptian symbol representing internal life (according to google); also a subtle representation of Enoch’s peculiarity. Twine of Fire: A symbol representing a subtle indication of the readers infernal rage and peculiarity.

Format: Drabble.

Word Count: 1.1k.

Note: I hope you’re well too, lovely!

| mother m-list

The ankh branding your wrist burns when he looks at her.

You’ve scratched it red raw under your scrutiny and marred it with the lashes of your jealousy over the months. Your family would have forever become victims to a social massacre if anyone ever caught glimpse of the monstrosity it had become; you count yourself lucky to be in a loop, where the day resets and things don’t matter.

Her red hair flows down her back in a river of ocherous that catches the sunlight just right and your eyes are drawn to his, watching her as though she’d made the world good again.

All of you screams he’s yours. That your souls are tied eternally. That his mark is embedded in your very skin; that yours is embedded in his.

You turn away.

Out of sight, out of mind.

••

They sit together at supper, as it’s always been. His seat is closer to hers than you’d be comfortable with but your opinion in the matter runs naught.

Your seat is opposite to his, directly facing everything they do. So much for out of sight.

Enoch’s as stoned faced as ever to her bright eyes and it’s not something that should strike envy green through you but it paints there anyway.

Olive will forever be the soothe after his burn, a soft to his unsated harshness. You will always be the gasoline to the bitter fire roaring in him. You will always be an angry soul, charged with bonfires of stubbornness.

He reaches for the bread roll too far for her to get herself and places it on the edge of her plate without her asking. The cuff of his shirt shifts and reveals the violet flamed twine bracketing his skin, unique and bold as the glow orbing in your abdomen. It disappears under his sleeve as quick as it peeked.

You don’t lose track of their interaction, storing it in the mental box of all the reasons it’ll always be Enoch and Olive and never Enoch and Y/n. They knew each other senseless.

Your mark twinges.

••

It’s been four weeks when he approaches you.

The days in the loop blend into a flurry indecipherable, slowing them and flying them through somehow at once. You’ve taken to tracking the days on an old calendar kept in the children’s home since you joined Loop Peregrine, a tally mark on each day despite the dates not matching up.

You’ve been here for two months now. You’ve talked to Enoch twice.

Three if you count now.

He can’t feel the spidery tingle beneath his skin that you can in his presence, the one that webs you to him in more ways than it should. Girls have always been more sensitive to soulmate related symptoms, blessed (cursed) with more instinctual insight.

You hate the way his soul flares an iridescent outline of blue hues around you, serving another reminder he’ll never be yours that only you can see. Another taunt from fates cruel truths.

The curve of his accent is something you didn’t realise you missed until he opened his mouth. “You're awful at being discreet, you know that?”

“Sorry?” It’s the most you can force yourself to say.

Enoch approaches at a different angle. “You stare. Why?”

Faking nonchalance, you shrug. “I don't stare.”

It only takes a raise of a brow to crumble a large enough portion of your facade. Stone faced or not, you would always be able to read him like a book split open — perks of peculiarities.

“You do.” He bites. “And not just at anything, at anytime. Always at me, always with Olive. Is there an issue you have with us?”

The question hits too close to home. Your reaction spiels out of you quicker than you can cage it, curling at your lip and snarling out of you. “Is there an issue I have with my mate breathing down the neck of another woman? No, of course not, O’Connor. Who could ever find an issue with that?”

Enoch’s face drops.

Realisation hits you like a freight train. You feel the colour drain from you, leaving you unsteady where you stand.

“You’re not my mate.” He strains. “You can’t be. I would’ve known, I would've known from the second I saw you.” There’s a desperation caving his expression, a plea to his eyes that pierces you.

A part of you aches at that, the part that understands lost time and blind eyes, the part that pieces together that you’ve deceived him but it’s overridden by stubborn fear. A mate so infatuated with another he couldn’t see the signs isn’t a mate that could ever love you whole.

“Well, you didn’t.” You can’t stop the bite of your voice.

He pauses, staring into you. It’s the longest interaction you’ve had with him and it sets you alight in all the wrong ways. Despair replaces desperation, written in the way he stumbles a step back from you.

“Why wouldn’t you tell me? Am I not good enough for the almighty hollow survivor?” You watch a bridled rage harden him.

You and him are one split in two, anger lies in the cores of all you are and seeps its way into everything. Now is no exception.

You can’t help but scoff. “I’m not the one in love with someone else.”

Enoch sneers. “Who’s in love with someone else?”

“Are you joking?” A sick lick of humour curls at you. “You can’t be that much of an asshole that you’d lead Olive on.”

“Olive?” Your fingers twitch to gnaw at the ankh, raging infernal at the thought of him thinking of her. The disconcertment in his eyes stops you.

You look at him, really look at him. Really listen to him, really think things through.

“Me and Olive are nothing that you think we are.”

The brief touches that seemed so intimate, the knowing what the other wanted before they had the chance to say, all the time spent together, day in and day out.

“When you’re stuck living the copy of the day before you learn to know who you’re stuck with.”

You’d never thought about it past your mark and his, past soulmates. You’d never had to, flitting between lives and loops too often to make connections.

“But me and Olive are friends. We’ve never been more than that and we never would be more than that.”

You almost feel stupid for making assumptions but the image they create is too entwined for you to have seen through.

“I didn’t want to intrude.” It’s your way of offering an apology.

Enoch pursues his lips. “We’re mates.” Cold fingers circle your wrist, pressed light against his symbol. He doesn’t look away as you shiver and gasp. You watch the navy of his soul quiver. “You could never intrude.”

You take his words for what they are, an acceptance of peace.

~ ���� ~ 𐀔 ~ 𐀔 ~

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[bluestarjay]

Guys, it's been like 2 weeks since I've posted. I'm sorry, yall, I've actually run out of content. Ermm, I have some drafts I can finish up, but I haven't really watched anything recently. Oh, I did a drawing for my art class, which was Emma's og picture from Miss Peregrine's, yk, the really dark one with the flames in her hands and I'm just so incredibly kind and talented that I was chosen for artist of the month!! Ppl, especially teachers, keep complimenting me, and it's really awkward lol.

I'm not in love with it, personally, as there are things that I would definitely change for better accuracy, but I do think it's reeeeally cool.

[cece693]

Replacement (Enoch O'Connor x M! Reader)

I wanted to add something to the relatively small pool of fics for this fandom. All characters are of age and can be envisioned as their book or movie counterparts.

Summary: As a healer, you naturally seek to care for those around you. So it was easy to befriend Jake when he first entered Miss Peregrine's loop, confused and hurt by his grandfather's passing. However, your best friend doesn't see it that way.

It was official. Enoch hated Jake. Not that the other children noticed, or if they did, they were smart enough to not mention it. Maybe it was jealousy. Perhaps he was bothered by how Emma's eyes sparkled with interest whenever the American boy was around. Or maybe, it was the disruption to their routine, as Jake's presence always seemed to stir the loop like a stone tossed into a still pond.

But Olive knew the truth, for she had quickly discerned Enoch's emotions behind the venomous words he threw at Jake whenever he came near. It wasn't about Emma or their routine being disrupted. It was all because of you.

From the moment Jake first stumbled into their world, he latched onto you—an oddball healer with a gentle touch and ability to mend the deepest cuts, both physical and emotional. So when Jake arrived, it was natural for you to be his guide, explaining things in a way that made the strange world of peculiars feel less threatening.

Naturally, Enoch hated it.

Before Jake arrived, you’d spend every minute by his side—looking over his shoulder, letting out a bright smile whenever his creations came alive. Enoch secretly treasured these moments, feeling comfortable in your presence and falling for you more each day. But now? Now it was Jake this and Jake that.

No space was safe from Jake's influence, nor did the American make it easy to escape his presence. It seemed like whenever Enoch and you were together, he appeared from thin air, begging you to help him with something. It was as if the American knew of Enoch's feelings and acted to rile him up, whisking the attention of the only person he actually liked. It's not as if there weren't any other children who would be happy to spend time with the American, why did he seek you out specifically?

Every time he saw you two together, a storm brewed inside him, and a tight knot formed in his chest. Enoch wasn’t stupid. He understood what jealousy was, but this wasn’t just jealousy. This was fear. Fear that you were slipping away from him. Fear that Jake was replacing him.

One day, it all became too much.

Enoch was sitting at the table in the library, flipping through one of his old, tattered books on embalming techniques, though his focus had long since disappeared. His mind, as usual, was on you. He had tried to pretend like nothing was wrong, but the bitter feeling gnawed at him constantly. And then, as if the universe was mocking him, you and Jake walked into the room together.

Jake was talking about something, gesturing wildly with his hands, and you were laughing—a bright, carefree laugh that Enoch hadn’t heard in days.

That was the last straw.

"Seriously?" Enoch snapped, slamming his book shut, startling you both. Jake stopped mid-sentence, blinking in confusion, but Enoch didn’t care. His gaze was fixed on you, his voice sharp and biting. “Do you really have to follow him around all the time?”

Your smile faltered, a confused frown replacing it as you looked at him. “What are you talking about?”

“You know exactly what I’m talking about.” Enoch’s voice grew colder, harsher. His jealousy had festered too long, and now it spilled like poison. “Ever since he got here, it’s like you’ve forgotten everyone else exists.”

Jake shifted awkwardly beside you, clearly unsure of what to say, but Enoch didn’t give him a chance. “You’re spending so much time with him, acting like he needs you for everything. It's pathetic."

Your eyes narrowed, a flash of anger crossing your face. “He’s new here, Enoch! He does need help adjusting. And I’m not just going to ignore him because you—”

“Because I what?” Enoch cut you off, his eyes blazing. “Because I’m not needy enough for you? Because I don't fawn over you like a mutt every second like he does?””

Your mouth opened slightly, stunned by his words. Enoch could see the hurt forming in your eyes, but he was too wound up to stop now.

“Face it,” Enoch continued, his voice colder now, “you just want to feel like you matter to someone, right? Like you have some purpose. Well, here’s the truth—you’re not needed here. Jake can deal just fine on his own and I don’t need a dessolent friend.”

Your face twisted in hurt, and that twisted something deep inside Enoch. You stared at him, your hands trembling slightly at your sides. “You’re wrong,” you finally said, voice breaking. “But I guess I was wrong too, thinking you were my best friend.”

Before Enoch could respond, you turned and stormed out of the room, leaving him and Jake alone. The American looked like he was about to say something, but Enoch shot him a cold glare, daring him to speak.

Days passed. Days where Enoch didn’t see you, didn’t hear from you, and the space you used to fill in his life became an empty void he couldn’t bear to acknowledge. You weren't just avoiding him, you had begun to spend even more time with Jake, much to Enoch's dismay.

He tried to act like it didn’t bother him. He pretended he didn’t care when he saw you laughing as if his absence meant nothing to you. But it did. It hurt more than Enoch was willing to admit. It was only when Olive pushed him to accept his mistake that led him to stand at your door, long after the other house's inhabitants had gone to bed.

Enoch stood there for a long moment, his hand raised to knock, but his usual stubbornness kept holding him back. What if you didn’t forgive him? What if you’d already moved on and replaced him for good?

Taking a deep breath, Enoch knocked.

After a few agonizing moments, the door creaked open, and you stood there, blinking groggily at him in the dim light. You looked surprised to see him, and Enoch couldn’t blame you.

“What do you want, Enoch?” you asked, your voice flat, distant.

“I…” Enoch faltered for a moment, struggling to find the right words. His usual snark and bravado were gone, replaced with something more vulnerable, more uncertain. “I came to…apologize.”

You crossed your arms, leaning against the doorframe, clearly not ready to let him off the hook so easily. “For what?”

“For what I said,” Enoch muttered, not meeting your eyes. “For being a complete prat.”

Your expression softened, but you didn’t say anything, waiting for him to continue. Enoch sighed, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. “Look, I didn’t mean it. Any of it,” he admitted, his voice quieter now. “I was just…jealous. Of Jake. Of the time you’ve been spending with him.”

You raised an eyebrow, clearly surprised. “Jealous? Why?”

Enoch hesitated, his heart pounding in his chest. This was it. He could either admit the truth or lose you for good. Taking a deep breath, he finally met your gaze. “Because I like you,” he confessed in a whisper. “I’ve liked you for a long time, and seeing you with him made me feel like I was losing you. Like I wasn’t needed anymore. Like I was being replaced.”

The weight of his confession hung in the air, and Enoch braced himself for your response. He had no idea how you would react, but he had to say it. He couldn’t keep pretending like it didn’t matter anymore. You stood there for a long moment, staring at him, processing everything. Then, slowly, you stepped aside, opening the door wider.

“Come inside, Enoch,” you said quietly. “Let’s talk.”

And for the first time in days, Enoch felt a small glimmer of hope. Maybe, just maybe, things could be fixed after all.

[coffee-is-my-oxygen]

HAPPY LOOP DAY TO ALL WHO CELEBRATE!!!

[coffeeanddimlights]

It's late and I'm bored so here is my HC of everyone's favorite color

Jacob - Basic blue

Noor - gold or bronze because she's extra

Emma - Basic blue but she'd be pretentious about it, so she'd say baby blue or cornflower

Hugh - light pink, soley for Fiona's dog roses

Fiona - any muted colors like mustard yellow or moss green

Horace - any shade of yellow EXCEPT high lighter yellow, which can die in a fire for all he cares

Enoch - would say something edgy like "red for blood" or "black like my soul" but he's truly a sucker for baker-miller pink as he yearns for the psych ward

Olive - insists she can't pick one single color so she always says lilac and lime green

Claire - any pink but definitely likes pastels

Miss Peregrine - unexpectedly loves orange but she owns no orange clothing or orange decor so you would never guess that

Millard - plum purple

Bronwyn - likes a nice toffee brown

[starrieslove]

peculiars!!

puhLEASE ignore that crumb by olive..

Anyway I felt like drawing Abe so I drew the others too (it’s unfinished but you know)

[theducklingart]

MPHFPC CHARACTERS!

(well the ones I wanted to draw because I like them)

Y'all can probably tell most of them but if you can't I can explain