#dark headmistress peregrine
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Alma Peregrine x Fem!Reader: Artificial Permanence
Summary: Anon sent... Alma Peregrine + 9 -- "You need to wake up because I can't do this without you."
AO3
Prompts found here!
A/N: Damn I missed writing for Alma!!
Full Ficmas List
Tag List: @escapetodreamworld @ghostsunderstoodmysoul @multifandomfix @elenaguarnieri @evil-feather @imtrashinflames @nonbinary-cryptid-baby @jojalie @ashpheh
Warning(s): Light body horror
You never intended on becoming a murderer.
No one comes into the world with the intention of taking lives, but somewhere along the way, a piece of them changes and goes dark. You have spent your whole life trying to avoid a part of you going dark. You didn’t want to take lives, you wanted to save them.
But it all happened so fast.
One second you’re preparing a surprise breakfast in the kitchen with Emma and Fiona, the next Millard is calling you from the front door. You turn and rush to the door. Millard never yells, always the picture of the perfect gentleman, sometimes crossing the entire house to deliver simple messages to you.
If he’s yelling then something is terribly wrong. Were Alma awake already—it’s a fluke she isn’t, but you’d enlisted the children’s help in making her a nice breakfast before she woke—she’d scold him for not using an inside voice.
“What is it, Millard?” You ask.
He pushes you towards the door and you step onto the porch. It’s the perfect day, but the breeze from the water makes you shiver, pulling your robe tighter over your nightdress. Seeing the police officer standing on the porch makes you glad you did.
Your appearance is the least of your worries when you take in the scene.
The police officer is a gruff, round man, with a permanent scowl etched onto his face. He stands in the center of the porch with Olive and Claire on either side of him. White-knuckled hands grip their shoulders and you stand straighter, fury building at the terrified, pained looks on their faces.
“Can I help you, Officer?” You ask coldly.
“Yeah, your wayward freaks set the Pub on fire this morning,” He says, glaring at you, “I need you or the Headmistress to come down to the station.”
“They’re children, surely you’re not going to arrest them?”
His grip tightens on the girls and they both wince. Your fist clenches at your side. It’s all you can do to hold in your peculiarity, the air around you thrumming with your own desire to lash out at the man. But you do nothing, too worried you’d hurt the girls in the process.
You have a good handle on your peculiarity, but when you’re emotional enough, all bets are off. And you can’t claim to be calm at the moment.
“I can and I will!” He roars.
“You will not!” You snap back, stepping forward and into his space, “Now unhand my children.”
There’s a split second where his eyes widen. You wonder what he sees in your face that inspires the fear you see, a twisted glee blossoming amidst your anger. He grasps for words and his grip loosens on Claire and Olive.
Claire tries to pull away, frightened by the raised voices. Her attempt at escape draws the Officer’s attention and he reasserts his grip. When he does, it is like steel as it clamps roughly on Claire, and she lets out a frightened cry.
You don’t hesitate before spearing the knife in your hand through his chest.
He gasps and releases the girls. You go to look into his eyes, only to find them gone. His face is seared by red, yellow, and blue markings criss-crossing across his skin. There are dark blue marks under the sockets of his eyes where his skin seared against his cheekbones. A thin, white substance drips down his cheeks.
You realize with horror that the knife acted as a conduit of your peculiarity—which struck him as lightning this time—and the liquid you're watching drip down his cheeks are what would be his eyes… if they hadn’t exploded from the heat. A shriek leaves your lips and you let go of the Officer.
His body falls backwards and flops onto the porch steps with a heavy thud. Your eyes are stuck on the knife protruding from his chest, black from the electrical heat.
“Impressive.” Enoch says behind you.
Turning slowly, horror settling in your bones as you look into several of the children’s faces, you stare at Enoch. He’s leaning against the doorway with a look of admiration on his face. Your stomach turns.
“The lightning was a nice touch.” He adds.
“It really is interesting, Miss. Miss Peregrine never lets us watch.” Olive says sweetly.
You know Alma is no stranger to taking lives; being an Ymbryne in the current society of peculiars made her well equipped for that, but knowing it interested your children was another thing entirely. Folding your shaking hands in front of you, you force a smile.
“Children,” You say, voice faltering, “Will one of you keep watch for any other law enforcement? I have to go speak with Miss Peregrine about this.”
“No you don’t, I know where she usually puts the bodies.” Enoch says.
He backs up a little when you stare at him and you wonder again how you must look, “Just keep watch, Enoch.”
All of the children on the porch nod. You slip back into the house and start up the stairs, ignoring Emma’s concerned calls after you, not sure you have the strength now to explain it all to her. Alma would make this all easier. Alma would make this go away.
Despite that, you can’t help but sitting with the information that you’ve just made yourself a murderer. You lost control and took a life. It makes your stomach turn and you stop in the hall, leaning against the bannister, holding back the bile threatening to rise in your throat.
Alma is asleep peacefully, wrapped in soft blue sheets. You hate having to wake her like this.
“Alma,” You whisper, rounding the bed and kneeling at her side, “I need you to wake up—You need to wake up because I can’t do this without you.”
One blue eye squints open and you try to smile. Both eyes shoot open when she takes in your appearance; kneeling next to her side of the bed, shaking and on the verge of tears. Her hands grab your face. Her unblinking eyes are running over you, relieved to find nothing wrong, only to widen when she remembers the children.
“What has happened?” Alma demands.
She’s out of bed in a flash and wrapping herself in her own robe, talon-like nails ripping through the fabric, though she pays it no mind. When she’s steps from the door, you find your voice again.
“I killed that police officer.” You admit.
Alma freezes in place. Slowly, she turns on her heel, eyes piercing you.
“I beg your pardon?”
The dam breaks, “I sent the girls into town for a few things and he came back, saying they set the pub on fire, he was so cruel and he made Claire cry and—and then I stabbed him. In the chest. And his eyes exploded!”
The Ymbryne deflates, coming back to sit on the bed. She pinches the bridge of her nose and sits as you stare at the floor in silent horror.
You replay the scene in your head. It feels like a blur—you didn’t even remember having the knife in your hand until it was through his heart. Then he was discolored and eyeless. You shudder. Alma gently pulls you up onto the bed to sit next to her.
“All of the children are alive and well?” She asks.
You nod.
“The only one harmed is the officer?”
You nod again.
“I’ll take care of it, darling. He’ll be alive again tomorrow. You’re alright.”
“I killed someone, Alma.” You whisper.
“That does happen at times.” Alma says.
“How can you be so casual about this? I’m a murderer.”
Alma can’t help it, but a small chuckle leaves her lips. You jerk away. Intent on soothing you, you’re pulled back against her, her lips pressed to your temple in apology.
The idea of taking a life makes you feel like a monster. Yet, everyone else is unphased, even acting like the whole situation was humorous. You feel like you’ve missed a memo of some kind, especially if the children were unbothered.
“Darling, you’re not a murderer if your victim is alive the next day,” Alma says, “You protected the children. That’s what matters. Not the cruel officer who will wake up none-the-wiser in a few hours.”
“I still feel awful about it.” You admit.
She nods, “That will pass with time. Now, let’s handle this, shall we?”
Alma stands and offers you her hand. You take it in your own, letting the warmth of her ground you. You also use it to distract you from the twisted amusement on her face.
You still feel no better about taking a life, but at least you know it isn’t permanent.
#alma peregrine#alma peregrine x reader#miss peregrine#miss peregrines home for peculiar children#miss peregrines home for peculiar children x reader#mphfpc#miss peregrine imagine#miss peregrine x reader#miss peregrines home for peculiar children imagine#wlw#wlw imagine#dec2022#multimilfswritings#multimilfsficmas2022
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Your Battle Is Over
Peculiar!reader x Miss Peregrine (platonic!)
Every single part of you was screaming that this was a terrible idea. Just because the day reset and there would therefore be no true consequences from causing havoc in the town… it didn't mean you should all do it. You seemed to be the only one who thought so though. "Come on, Y/N!" Millard tried encouraging you, nudging your shoulder playfully. "Don't be such a party-pooper."
"Breaking a few things is one thing, but you're all proposing total chaos! Think how distressed the townsfolk are going to be. It isn't very nice." You crossed your arms, tossing your head away from the group. "Who cares? It isn't like they'll remember it tomorrow." Enoch shrugged, and the other children nodded and hummed collectively in agreement. It seemed you were completely out-numbered. "… Fine." You huffed, "But, I'm not doing anything. I'll just watch."
Cue an hour later, once you had all sprinted back to the house, you hid in the library for some quiet when you glanced out the window and noticed the policeman headed towards the door. Frowning, you anxiously checked the clock on the wall. Miss Peregrine's obsession with time had rubbed off on you, and you were by now well aware that there was only 10 minutes left until the hollow would appear.
You stood staring at the clock for 8 minutes, sighing in relief when you saw Miss Peregrine heading back inside. A deep pit of unease sat in your stomach however, and so you decided that this time you would follow your headmistress and watch the hollow task.
Hiding in the bush nearby, you pulled out your pocket watch and felt the pit in your stomach grow. If you were calculating it correctly, based on your own experience of the day and from reading up on Millard's study on the day… then Miss Peregrine was 15 seconds late. You desperately hoped you were wrong.
Holding your breath as she fired her arrow, your heart sank as you watched it miss the hollow entirely. It was clearly now coming towards her. You could see her panic as she tried to reload, and before you could even stop to think about what you were doing… You transformed in your wolf form and pounced at the patch of grass where the hollow appeared to be.
Your snout bounced off the hollow, and you quickly opened your jaws and clamped down, biting into its flesh to keep track of it. The little trickle of blood slowly travelling down meant it could now be seen. Your victory distracted you, and the hollow quickly gained the upper hand, wrestling you and throwing you into a tree. You landed with a whimper, struggling to scramble onto your paws. It had winded you, and you let out a high pitched whine as you hobbled onto your injured paw.
You watched triumphantly though as your distraction had given Miss Peregrine enough time to successfully shoot the hollow down. She shot it twice more to make absolutely sure, smiling and nodding once to herself. Then, she frantically turned to look for you, rushing towards you to make sure you were alright. You managed to transform back into your human form, staggering towards your headmistress. "Y/N! Y/N, where are you hurt?" She reached out to you as you swayed to the side. You opened your mouth to reply, but you couldn't find the strength to reply, instead letting the darkness overtake out as you collapsed to the ground.
Through the fog in your mind, you were vaguely aware of being lifted up… it felt like being on a cloud. Bronwyn had lifted you and balanced you on her shoulders, with Miss Peregrine and Emma by her side to guide her into your room. As they entered your bedroom, Emma pulled back the covers, placing them back over you once Bronwyn clearly placed you onto the bed.
The headmistress chirped her orders out rapidly, sending Emma for tea, Olive for more pillows, Millard for medical supplies, and sending Horace to organise how the remaining tasks would be carried out between the other peculiars.
As the children returned one by one, Miss Peregrine started tending to your wounds as best as she could. The fact that you had not regained consciousness yet made her worry that perhaps you had hit your head, but Horace reminded her that since you transformed back into your human form, that was unlikely.
She left you only once, to perform the reset for the loop, and then once the peculiar children had been put to bed, she returned to take up watch beside you. Thankfully, she did not have long to wait. You shifted in the bed, wincing from the pain as your movement caused stinging in your arm. Miss Peregrine hovered over you, her eyebrows furrowed deeply. "Y/N?" She softly cooed, placing a hand over yours. You opened your eyes, smiling at the headmistress. "Did you get them?" You whispered, "Did you get the hollow?"
"Yes. How dare you put yourself in harm's way like that?" Miss Peregrine snapped with an ice cold gaze. "Uh…?" You blinked rapidly, wondering if perhaps this was all just a bizarre dream. Was the headmistress actually mad at you for saving her life? "Did you even think before you lunged at a hollow, of all things. You could have been killed." Miss Peregrine turned away from you, glancing down at the floor, raising a shaky hand to her eye and then dropping it again as if it had never happened.
So, that was what she was angry about. She didn't want to lose another of her charges, like she had with Victor. "But I wasn't. I am fine, and more importantly you are fine, and everything will be okay." You tried to smile, shifting in the bed again, but whimpering as put your weight on a bruise. Miss Peregrine raised a gentle hand to your cheek, her thumb softly stroking it, before leaning down to kiss your forehead. "Don't do it again." She drew back to raise a stern point of her finger. "Now, rest. I'll check on you later."
And with that, she left the room. You smiled to yourself, snuggling back down into your blankets and letting sleep claim you, knowing that was her thanking you in her own weird way.
#miss peregrines home for peculiar children#mphfpc reader insert#mphfpc imagine#miss peregrine x reader#miss peregrine imagine#platonic reader insert
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William with an s/o who is a witch and a headmistress of an orphanage (imagine someone like a mix between Mary Poppins and Miss Peregrine, if you're familiar with characters?!)
I'm not too familiar with Miss Peregrine, but I do know Mary Poppins, so I hope I got the general vibes right!
also...... Will.......... baby...............
Well, she truly is a light unto the world where others might just walk past the darkness. What else can he do but admire her? The truth is, considering his background and the line of work he’s in, he’s gotten very used to seeing the world in general as a bleak place. It’s difficult for him to see the patches of hope and kindness; he’s almost become convinced that those things don’t even exist. Then, there’s… her. She’s practically restored his faith in the goodness of others, singlehandedly. When he finally gets a break from his work, he goes to the orphanage to spend as much time as he can with her, and it just makes his heart soften to watch her taking care of the children. These little waifs from the street who have no parents, no home, potentially disabled, and she treats them like she’s known them all their lives. He’s not sure whether any of them know the truth about what she is, but as far as he’s concerned, it doesn’t really matter. She takes good care of them. Regardless of whether or not she uses her magic to do so, she is a force for positive change in the world.
He appreciates that she can be strict sometimes… only when she needs to be. It means she understands the need for order just as well as she understands the need for freedom. When he’s sitting at the orphanage with a child having fallen asleep in his lap as (Name) has been reading a bedtime story, and she takes them from him, using her magic to open the door and put them to bed, it doesn’t feel like more work after an already long day. It feels more like this is where he’s supposed to be, and he’s silently grateful that someone like her has decided she wants to be with him.
#Black Butler#Kuroshitsuji#William#William T. Spears#reaction#romantic#fluff#domestic#aaaaaAAAAAAA#crying screaming kicking my legs-#one hell of a queue
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Cardiac Arrest - Movie! E.O x M.Reader
Req: No | Wc: ≈2.5k
Pair: Movie! Enoch O'Conner x Cardiokinetic! Male! Reader; he/him
Fandom: Miss Peregrine's Home for Peculiar Children (2016)
About: Enoch meets a mysterious peculiar that entered Miss Peregrine's loop after his own loop was raided. The peculiar is suddenly shaken awake by a curious Enoch O'Conner. . .
Warning(s): Organs; Stopping heart from functioning; Minor character death; multiple mentions of grief/grieving; mentions of death; self-hate; vulgar language
Author's Notes: When I thought of this idea, I was in genuine love. I love this concept so much, so I thought, how could I NOT write it? Enoch's kinda OOC but not really, just mainly curiosity and piqued interest in something. There will probably be a sequel.
This may be read as platonic, but this rears towards romantic! Also, my writing is kind of crap in the beginning, apologies! This was originally for my old account before moving.
Wattpad Link to this story
Sweat beaded at your temple. You ran as fast as your legs could possibly take you, your heart's beat pounded in your ears. Sand coursed itself in between your toes. Your satchel (which contained your oxford shoes and socks) bounced behind you, resting above the hindside of your rolled-sleeve button-up shirt. Your dark-grey trousers - which were tucked over your shirt and held up by brown suspenders - began to feel further uncomfortable as you ran farther down the ocean's shore. Of course, you would step on the occasional shell and you would let out a faint, ouch.
It was 1956, your loop was gone, and the nearest hiding place was Cairnholm, Wales. Where Miss Peregrine's loop lay virgin.
It was the only possible loop you could hide in, your previous one had been raided by the monstrosities and you were devastated - for the most part.
If you were something other than devastated, you were deeply disturbed. And by disturbed, I mean in grief.
All of your friends, your family, had died. All their bodies lay eye-eaten and to-be-rotten. You had watched as the monster's shadows staggered away, tentacles retreating into the threshold of shark teeth.
You switched your trail to a mucked path that lead into the bog that held the contents of refuge. Still running but at a slower pace.
As you run further into the wetland, trees began popping up every so often, until a canopy of trees blocked the sun from physical view until it led up to a rigged cavern. Halting to a stop, you rested your hand on your chest and began to regulate your heartbeat - it was part of being cardiokinetic.
You walked up to the cairn's entrance. Resting your hand upon the stone archway and peering inside. It was dark and otherwise quiet besides the few drops of water that formed from the stalactites.
You entered the cairn, careful to avoid tripping over pebbles.
You travel to the opposite end of the arch, leading you to a sun-filled sky.
You invited yourself to run to where the house was located, even if that meant passing another canopy-covered-bog.
You walked up to the house's front patio and gave a deliberate knock. Moments later, you could hear the clacking of a heel coming toward's the door.
The door swung open, and you were met face-to-face with a charming woman. Her jet-black hair was put in a unique updo, with streaks of violet-blue. She wore a black-collared jacket that appeared almost leathery, and her eyes were outlined lightly with black eyeliner.
"Oh, you must be one of Miss Starlings'." She eyed you up and down, "Ah, yes. You surely look like one of hers. Is there anybody else with you?"
"No, ma'am. Just me." You said solemnly. Your eyes drifted to the floor before reconnecting with the Headmistress'.
She frowned, letting out a mournful grunt.
"Anyways," she piped. "What was your name?"
"[Name]," I chewed the side of my cheek, offering my hand.
She took it and gave a vigorous shake before letting go, "well, we should bet getting you settled now." I just nodded in return, following her as she hobbled up the flights of stairs.
She lead you to an ornamented room. A big bed lay simply in the corner and the walls were racked with bare shelves.
"This is where you'll be staying," she said, removing her pipe. "I'll introduce you to the rest at supper." She parted her lips and smoked on her pipe.
"One question," you speculated. "When is dinner."
She smiled, "five o'clock. Don't be late."
You gave a simple nod as she departed from your presence. Throwing your satchel onto the bed and unbuttoning three of your buttons that ran down the front-center of your collared shirt. You seated yourself on the mattress next to your bag.
It felt nice to relax, to unwind after everything that's happened in the past few days. If anything still lingered on your mind, it was of your friends. Susie, Carlos, Logan, even Piper. Gee, you missed the way Piper would fly into your room with her swan wings and start howling on the ways you messed up in life - at three in the morning. You laughed a bit before your face went poker and your mouth dipped at its edges.
Gee, you missed everything Barron ruined. If only you could have made their hearts stop. Did they even have hearts? Cause they sure seemed heartless.
A heartless monster is all Barron will ever be.
You walked down the stairs and entered the dining room. It was but empty, except for a peaceful Miss Peregrine stood waiting at the entranceway. You fumbled with your now-clean clothes.
"[Name], your early. That's quite perfect, actually." She smiled endearingly. "Come, sit."
You both moved to grab a chair at the long table. You had noticed that she was currently pipe-less.
"Nobody currently knows of your presence here, today." She told. "So do expect it to be a bit of a shock to the others as they sit down with us."
You nodded, "I wouldn't expect any different."
The headmistress moved her hand into her pocket and slid out a black pocket watch. "They should be here any second now. . ."
I watched curiously, then the front door opened and low murmuring came from the entrance hall. Some heavy steps came trampling down the staircase as a group of children - of all ages - barged into the room.
They watched beady-eyed and curious at your figure. They whispered among themselves as a visibly adorned one came towards you with an outstretched hand.
"Hullo," He greeted, "I'm Horace, it's a pleasure." You shook his hand.
"Hi." You said plainly.
Next, they all came up to you, saying their hellos and introductions. Everyone was seated by the time a dark-haired male entered the room.
He seemed your age and came into the room in a fuss. "Sorry if I'm late, one of the puppets got out of hand."
He stopped dead in his tracks and eyed your sitting body.
"Hey." He said, diverting his eyes to an unoccupied chair.
You just gave a faltering smile as he sat at the end of the table.
The headmistress clapped her hands and stood on her feet to face her children. "As you all know, we have a new addition to our family." She beamed to you, then continued. "Please welcome [Name]. He came to us from Miss Starling, as her loop was grievously raided." She motioned to you.
You smiled at the peculiars surrounding you, they all lightly applauded accordingly after Miss Peregrine's appeal. They all looked at you with gradient, enlightened eyes, except for one. The boy with the pretty dark hair, the one that murmured a 'hey' to you because he was late. Though you didn't recall him addressing his name.
You ineptly stared at your plate, the large peculiar-grown block of carrot laying to rot until eaten. You felt sick, being introduced to your new family wasn't something you could digest, unlike food. It meant leaving your past behind. Your family, friends, even lovers.
You felt your heart begin to quicken slightly, the pounding matched unevenly with the throbbing in your head. You stood up, looking at Miss Peregrine fearfully.
"Excuse me, I'm going to go to the loo." You said stiffly, quickly pushing in your chair and trekking to the nearest bathroom.
As you made it to the restroom, you shut the door tightly behind you and flicked the lock. You retreated and looked in the mirror. At your face, your perfect-but-imperfect [skin color] skin radiated against the restroom's ceiling light. You studied your distraught [eye color] eyes that were a mix of confusion and grief. At your tangled hair, wrinkled button-down shirt. You were a complete and utter mess, and everyone could see. Like your failures as a human being were shown at a museum display. Getting seen by judging eyes hundreds of times a day.
Everything was going by so quickly. It all hit and pounded on you like a runaway train that was driven by some sort of psychopath.
"Stupid." You muttered towards the mirror, light sobs coursing through your throat. "Why were you the one to live?"
Salty drops of water came from your eyes, cascading down your cheeks like waterfalls. The water would get too close to your mouth, then you liked the water from your chapped lips and let the shred of salt and water go down your throat.
You half-expected someone to hear your bawling and barge in and give you comfort. But why would that happen? Those were the things that would happen in a romance movie, the movies where you would be snuggled with your friends and laughing at the cheesy lines as you stood in front of the monotonous screen. But this wasn't a romance, this was a story where the character lives in grief for the rest of his life. Moping around a house, living the rest of eternity eating vegetables and goose. Vegetables and goose, goddammit.
Once again, your heart rate quickened in your flash of anger. You inhaled, and exhaled, using your power to regulate its pace.
Deciding you were over having a fit, you unlocked the door and exited.
You walked quickly back to the dining table, where most of the others peculiars were just finishing their meals. You glanced at some, flashing a smile before retaking your seat, carrots untouched.
"Are you alright? You took quite a while." The headmistress pointed out.
"I got lost," You spoke, lying through your teeth. Miss Peregrine just shrugged before going back to her meal and you poking at your carrots with a fork.
It was before a girl with blonde curls named Claire said something about movie-time that you thought that you would die of ennui.
The children all shuffled from their chairs to the living area, where two couches were parallel to each other, a chair sat empty in front of what seemed to be some type of white fabric.
Horace moved to be seated in the wood chair and you took your chance to sit next to Hugh, who blatantly smiled and had some small talk with you before everyone stilled.
Horace-who had somewhat prominent ears-had held an odd cylinder eyepiece in his hand. He lifted it to his eye and sparks of light illuminated boldly from it until a theatre-like form appeared on the white fabric.
"He projects his dreams upon the wall, you see," Hugh told you. "Mostly about apparel, but sometimes foresight into the future."
The dream was about clothes, as Hugh had stated most of his dreams were about. He was trying a variety of similar suits, picking through monocles, and sorting his top hats. It was quite dull, so you decided to play around with your heart rate (You did that a lot, but you were mindful not to do anything dangerous).
Hugh had groaned audibly from next to you, his eyes turning to slits as his eyebrows bunched up.
You mimicked Hugh, besides you groaned many pitches quieter than him.
You were going to lay down on the couch before you heard soft footsteps and a creak on the sofa. Something about how a shrouded figure sitting alongside you put you on edge, your mind resorted to the conclusion that it was a Hollowgast before remembering Millard.
So instead, you leaned back on the spot you currently were at and shut your eyes. You felt eyes on you, so you squinted open your right eye to see a pair of dim coffee-colored eyes on you before quickly diverting away.
Your consciousness faded from the apparent void of darkness into a mild sleep.
You dreamt of your original loop, of Miss Starling and the rest of her wards.
You shook awake by, being met with the same lingering eyes from before your nap. "Get up, you lazy ass," he said.
"I'm up." You said, pushing his arm away from you. It was just the both of you in the room. You sat up as he sat next to you on the couch.
He eyed you, "I'm Enoch."
"Hullo, Enoch."
"You sound stupid."
"Thanks."
Enoch hummed before playing with the hem of his shirt a bit.
You kind of stared at him. His face was relaxed and drowsy, unlike his annoyed and stern expression from dinner. His dark hair was parted and wave-like as it swayed on the side of his face. He wore more monotoned colors compared to the others.
"What is your peculiarity?" You asked unconsciously, Enoch's eyes loomed into yours.
"I can reanimate the dead."
Your eyes widened a tad, "cool! I've only met one other dead raiser apart from you before."
Enoch shifted on the couch, "what can you do?"
You shifted, "Cardiokinesis." You stared into Enoch's eyes, an emotion besides boredom, ignorance, irritation, annoyance, and tired entered. Curiosity. "Basically I can control heart rates of me or some other living thing, apparently I can do a little more when I practice or something."
Enoch kind of just stared, and you dittoed.
"I don't say this much, but that's very intriguing," Enoch said plainly, trying to mask emotion.
"Thank you," you smiled. This small gesture, the small curve on your lips made Enoch go berserk with emotion. And, for once, he smiled back and seized your hands.
"Can you demonstrate?"
You were kind of shocked, "on you?"
"Yes, it doesn't matter."
"I can only put you in cardiac arrest for a few seconds? I can only stop it so long before you get global cerebral ischemia." Enoch did not understand what you had said but nodded nevertheless. "I can't promise that you won't be damaged."
"Just do it."
You bobbed your head, your hand just hovering above his chest. Your power spiked and coursed through your arm, a red glow stringed from your fingertips to Enoch's chest. Enoch gasped. Your head began to throb, it pounded and pounded. Enoch's already dark eyes seemed to grey out his emotion.
After another three seconds, instead of a red glow, green surfaced from your fingers and into Enoch's chest. He panted, eyes dilating.
"Are you alright?" You asked, gripping his shoulder with your right hand.
"I'm fine," Enoch said before blinking and soughing.
"A hundred-percent okay?"
"Maybe ninety-seven." He breathed. Enoch, for once, felt enlightened that you didn't view him negatively (yet, at least).
You chuckled, "You're funny sometimes."
Enoch stared blankly, "What planet are you from?"
You laughed a bit louder that time, "Earth."
"And I'm from Saturn." You didn't show emotion that time.
"You ruined the joke." Enoch just grinned, even how much he tried it he couldn't help it.
You both just leaned into the couch, enjoying the other's silence.
You're going to like it here.
#Cardiokinesis#miss peregrines home for peculiar children#mphfpc#mphfpc x male reader#enoch oconnor x male reader#enoch oconner x reader#enoch oconner#miss peregrines home for peculiar children film#mphfpc x reader#x reader#x male reader#read warnings#put the gender in the title#MOVIE ENOCH#organs tw#cardiac arrest tw#minor character death tw#death tw#mentions of death tw#grief tw#self-hate tw#self hate tw#vulgar language tw
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Can you do a miss Peregrine x reader were the reader is new and becomes really close with her in a mother and daughter way
"Close your eyes, I´ll be there" ➷ Alma Peregrine
➛ pairing: Alma Peregrine & reader (female) platonic
➛ summary: after having troubles with nightmares that you hid from the others, Miss Peregrine finds out and tries to help you
! warnings/tags: homesickness, nightmares, the reader doesn´t sleep, fluff
➛ words: 1,5k
♬ song: goodnyght — sleep cycles
⤷ i found myself listening to more lofi playlists while writing and thought this just fitted for the scene i had in mind
➛ a/n: not me reusing one of the peculiarities from my last fic because i find them so interesting.. I hope you enjoy this and please take care of you, maybe drink a glass of water <3 :)
Being "the new one" was never easy, no matter where you went or where you came from. It was a title that brought so many questions, uncertainties, fears. So much that was new, unfamiliar.
For you, every question was one too many, every uncertainty gnawed at your mind, the fears were overwhelming and instead of getting used to the "new" you were confronted with more of it every day, the unfamiliar remained unfamiliar.
No matter how hard you tried to get used to your new home, you couldn't help but miss your old one, no matter how much better you were supposed to be doing here according to everyone else.
No matter how many conversations you had with the other children, their words never reached you, their jokes remained incomprehensible.
No matter how many times you lay in your new bed, you never found a peaceful night's sleep.
Miss Peregrine had explained to you that it was because of your peculiarity. That your negative thoughts were influencing your dreams and as well those of others, which is why many of the other children were also plagued by nightmares the next nights; by your nightmares.
It didn't really help your fears, and so you decided not to sleep anymore.
To you it sounded logical, if you didn't sleep you wouldn't have nightmares and you wouldn't lose control of your "peculiarity" and let the others suffer under it.
No one noticed at first, especially because you told everyone how much better you dreamed and since none of the other children had nightmares anymore, they believed you.
Only Miss Peregrine noticed that something was wrong. Noticed how the circles under your eyes were getting darker, you kept looking like you hadn't slept in a thousand years. Noticed how a faint light still shone from under your door crack at the late hour, sometimes a soft tapping of bare feet could be heard on the creaking wooden floor.
In your permanently exhausted state, however, you didn't catch any of her worried glances; you were too busy keeping yourself awake.
And Miss Peregrine helped you, somehow your headmistress must have understood your situation because she made sure you took enough vitamins to you. She brought you a plate of fruit in the afternoon, reminded you to drink water, sat you in class at the place closest to the window, little things that you would soon appreciate very much.
Tonight was one of the worse nights, as soon as you closed your eyes for a few seconds, images of your nightmares flashed up and you had to pull yourself together not to scream out loud every time you found yourself in your room and not somewhere in the dark.
You had just sat down on the windowsill next to your bed, your arms wrapped around your drawn up feet, and were looking outside at the dark clouds with an unfocused gaze, when there was a soft knock on your door.
"Yes?" you didn't even question who was still awake and knocking at such an hour, which is why you weren't surprised when the door opened and Miss Peregrine stepped into your room.
Out of the corner of your eye you noticed her closing the door and walking towards you until she sat down on the edge of your bed. "May I ask why you refuse to sleep?" she asked, and you slowly turned your head toward her. Miss Peregrine was busy putting your pillow down properly and brushing the wrinkles out of the snow-white blanket around her.
You buried your head between your knees, pulling your legs closer to your chest. "When I sleep, the dreams come, they can't come," you murmur.
"Ah, I see. So you'll never sleep again?"
At her question, you raised your head. Never again was a long time. "I don't know, huh?"
Miss Peregrine nodded in understanding. "But that's a hard decision, too. What are your nightmares about, then? Maybe I can help you?" she suggested, and you couldn't help but wonder.
Hadn't she seen your nightmares when you were dreaming? All the other children knew exactly about it. Was it because she was a ymbryne? Didn't birds dream?
You leaned against the window, playing with the hem of your sleeping clothes, wondering if you even wanted to tell her about it. You didn't want to hurt her when she was being so sweet to you.
Finally, though, you gave in, nodding to yourself. "In my dreams I run towards the house and although I reach it I never seem to really arrive. Everything is strange to me."
Miss Peregrine drew her eyebrows together, a sympathetic smile playing around her otherwise serious lips. Invitingly, she patted the mattress beside her. "You don't have to get under the covers, but it's certainly cozier than the windowsill."
Despite the inhibitions within you that usually kept you from approaching the others so closely, you climbed down from your place on the board onto your bed to lean against your pillows. Immediately your tense limbs loosened, it felt much more comfortable than sitting on wood for ages.
Miss Peregrine smiled at you from her place in the middle of the bed. "Will you allow me to get comfortable?" she asked, and you nodded, at which point she grabbed one of the pillows that was at the foot of the bed and slid further onto it. "There, then you won't have to be awake all by yourself."
You tilted your head, speaking even before you understood the meaning of the words to your situation, "Don't you need to sleep to be attentive?"
An embarrassed blush crept onto your cheeks as you realized it, but Miss Peregrine did not point out your error.
Instead, she just nodded. "That's true. But I can make an exception for you today." she spoke, looking around your room. You hadn't had much with you when you had arrived a few weeks ago; an old suitcase with your clothes and a photo album, which was lying on the old wing chair in the other corner of the almost empty room.
You followed her gaze to the chair where you usually sat and flipped through the pages of the album over and over again, trying to remember how the air had tasted, how the grass felt under your feet when you walked over it, or how your house had sounded. You missed the clatter that could be heard constantly from the kitchen, the meow of your cat, the sound of the fountain outside your bedroom window.
"You know, (y/n), just because you live in a new place doesn't mean your home isn't there anymore." Miss Peregrine spoke softly, musing at you with her wise, warm eyes. "Your home is not necessarily a place, it can be a feeling, and you will carry that feeling inside you forever." She raised her hand and placed it over her heart. "It will be in here for all eternity, no one can take that away from you."
You mimicked her movement, feeling the quiet beating of your heart in your hand.
"And you can visit your home even in your sleep, if you only wish and firmly believe," she continued. Then she stood up, crossed the small room and carefully picked up the album, bringing it back with her. Instead of sitting down in her original place, she settled down next to you, stretched out her legs on the bed, and placed the album on her lap. With slender fingers she opened the first page, you leaned closer to her.
"This is me with my old class on a field trip to the farm," you explained, tapping yourself in the group photo, your finger sliding down a photo. "And here I made a flower crown with a friend."
The two of you flipped through the entire photo album, you recounted the moments in the pictures, and for the first time, no sense of sadness overcame you. You felt comfortable sharing your memories, reliving them with someone else, and as you spoke and explained, you began to tire.
Miss Peregrine noticed how your head landed on her shoulder and you hid your yawn more frequently, and she, in the middle of a story of yours, lifted the blanket at your feet, pulling it up so that you were both lying under it.
"Shall I tell you a secret?" asked Miss Peregrine you, and you nodded tiredly. She pointed out your window with her dark fingernails after glancing at her watch, just above the big tree. "In a minute a shooting star will fall there, if you want to make a wish."
Eyes falling shut again and again, you looked out at the night sky, thinking about what wish you could make, sliding deeper into the pillows.
"In ten seconds," Miss Peregrine whispered.
You listened to the clock ticking softly, counting down the seconds until you actually saw a bright tail fall along the sky field before your eyes fell completely shut, with your wish on your lips.
"I wish to find a new home here."
And for the first time since your arrival, you dreamed not of darkness, but of a sunny autumn day when you would show Miss Peregrine how to weave a flower crown.
#miss peregrines home for peculiar children#miss peregrine#alma peregrine#alma peregrine x reader#miss peregrine x reader#miss peregrine imagine#miss peregrine movie#miss peregrine fanfic#miss peregrines home for peculiar children fanfic
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Tracing Footsteps in the Wind
summary: You are a peculiar who travels through different loops to help different ymbrynes in their loop and their children. But what will happen when you visit the loop of one ymbryne called Miss Peregrine. Will you find friendship, sorrow, or love?
Chapter 2: It doesn't matter where we take this road
1
The next morning, you decided to help Miss Kestrel make breakfast for the children so you made your way downstairs silently after changing from your sleepwear and fixing your hair. The smell of the waffles in the kitchen wafted in your nose, and the sizzle of the bacons was the only sound in the area. Miss Kestrel was there alone sipping her tea while making sure none of the food got burnt.
“Good morning Miss Kestrel, anything I can do to help?” the older woman acknowledged you by preparing another cup of tea for you “Good morning y/n you can set the table, and what’s your preference for your tea?” You took the plates and utensils before responding with a smile “the usual, miss.”
After setting the plates, one of the older children came down to help prepare for breakfast and after a while all of the children were seated at the table and were already eating.
While everyone is eating, the headmistress cleared her throat to catch everyone’s attention “children, Miss y/n will be leaving the loop after breakfast, I expect you would want to say a proper goodbye to her” the children looked at you in surprise and started asking questions like “will you come back?” “Can you send us photographs?” which you all answered easily.
After breakfast you gathered all your things and went downstairs and saw the children and Miss Kestrel waiting for you. The older woman patted your back while all the children gave you a hug. “Be careful out there y/n, you can send us a letter anytime you need anything” Miss Kestrel said while holding your arm.
You thanked her and everyone in the house, and once you’ve exited the loop you felt the vast difference in the atmosphere and time. Without looking back, you started your journey towards Cairnholm.
The travel from Brighton to Cairnholm would have been a lot easier without the war and trying not to get any attention for yourself. But while you are in the boat on the way to the island, you are starting to feel at ease and are already thinking of how the children are. And when you saw the shape of the island you noticed a bird flying, a peregrine falcon to be exact, you knew that there is a big chance that this is the ymbryne of the new place you’ll be calling home but you did not do anything to acknowledge it.
When the boat stopped, you immediately got off it and started walking around the island. You can feel that this island must have been through a lot just with the look of the houses with doors and windows closed, and with the people being in a hurry as if trying to get to their destinations to get out of the open area as soon as possible. The island is not that picturesque, not that you are expecting it to be picture perfect, the weather is gloomy and the air is a bit cold that matches the atmosphere of the island. Walking around, you did not see any hint of the loop or a place where the children may stay while they are on the island, that’s why you did not hesitate to enter the first pub you saw which is the Priest Hole.
“You there! You don’t look familiar, what brought you here? ``One of the men in a Welsh accent asked you, and when you were about to approach them, a woman asked “Are you here for the children?” which surprised you because surely they don’t know about peculiars or if they do then that could be troublesome, you thought. You said yes hoping that they did not notice the hesitancy in your voice, then one man approached you and placed a hand to your shoulder then said sorry for your loss. You sat on one of the chairs and took a drink, after listening and engaging to some of their conversations, you learned that the house was bombed and not one survived. “So the house was bombed but where is the entrance to the loop” you thought quietly, after a while you asked some questions in hopes that you’ll get some answer to where the entrance is but when you got nothing you just sighed and asked “Can you tell me the direction to their house?” after giving the directions the owner of the pub reminded you “The house was bombed just a few weeks ago, it might not be safe to wander too much and be careful of the bogs” You gathered your things and thanked the people “ I might leave as soon as I see the house, thank you for the directions”
The path towards the house is not an easy path, they must have stopped maintaining it after the house was bombed since it is the only house on that side of the island. And when you saw the home, your heart sank despite knowing that every occupant survived. The front part of the roof is completely shattered and some parts are just waiting to fall around, and it is reeking the smell of smoke and burnt woods but you walked closer. It was probably raining a few days after the bombs but you cannot bring yourself to come inside the home since from your inspection, the building is very unstable as of the moment and would need a few more weeks until anyone can safely come inside.
Assuming that the entrance of the loop must be close, you started to walk around the house until you felt a presence, then saw footsteps that ended just beside you. “Is someone there? I can feel you and you’re not so good in hiding” you pointed the footsteps, then you heard a sigh “You must be miss y/n, Miss Peregrine asked us to fetch you” you smiled towards the air where you think the voice came from and grinned “Why don’t you lead the way then” After saying those words, a girl with red hair and a leather gloves approached you from behind the trimmed bushes that you assume to be once a garden, with clothes in her hand which she handed to the invisible boy you were talking to “you were naked the whole time” you said in disbelief.
The girl with red hair giggled and said “ My name is Olive, that is Millard, and yes he was naked the whole time”
The only respond you had was an “Oh”
“My name is Bronwyn!” a little girl with brown curly hair said. You knelt in front of her “Hello Bronwyn, my name is y/n” you offered your hand to her which she accepted “I did not notice you immediately, young lady” you added and made Bronwyn giggle.
“Let’s go, Miss Peregrine would not appreciate not being on time” Olive said that prompted you to stand and follow her.
On the way to the entrance, you had small talks with the three of them while keeping track of every turn and step you took but you realized that you were approaching a cave near the beach. Realization hit you that if you were left on your devices to look for the entrance, it would take you so much time. After making sure that no one followed the three of you, you entered the loop and heard a ringing and a pop! That means you have successfully entered the loop. When you emerged from the small cave, you were surprised by the shift in the weather and atmosphere. It was sunny and everything was vibrant, there’s no sign of rain or fog, you could even hear the chirping of the birds and the laughter of the children as you neared the house. It was just a few weeks ago when this loop was made but this is perfect.
You saw the house in its glory and almost forgot what it looked like when you first saw it as a ruin. The sun had already set and lights were already lit but it did not make the grounds look less than perfect. When you stepped to the porch, the three children excused themselves to finish their chores, and when you were about to knock, the door swung open to reveal the silhouette of a woman about as tall as you with her hair done in an updo and she’s holding a pipe. The woman stepped outside and you finally saw what she looked like, and the first thought in your mind is that she’s beautiful and far from what you are expecting, her hair is dark with strands of dark blue which is probably a thing with the ymbrynes, her eyes are light blue reminding you of the sky and it is accentuated by her dark makeup around it, and her lips are rosy as if tempting you to kiss her. She took the pipe from her mouth and looked at you and you looked back at her and figured that comparing her eyes to the sky does not do her any justice for it also has some shade of green but can be mistaken for gray. But you still cannot remember where you first saw her.
“You must be Miss y/l/n. Alma Peregrine, delighted to meet you” she offered a hand which you accepted and the faster beating of your heart did not go unnoticed to you. “Yes, that would be me” the ymbryne looked from your head to your toe with a curious glint in her eyes before smiling widely “come in dear, welcome to our loop”
The smell of bread and vanilla inside the house was the first thing that reached your senses, you were welcomed by a house that gave you comfort and coziness.
“You have a very lovely loop Miss Peregrine” the woman smiled proudly and you thought that she looked even more beautiful when smiling “Thank you dear, and please call me Alma without the presence of the children”
“Then you can call me y/n” you smiled at her. She guided you to a room upstairs where you will be staying and before she left she placed a hand to your arm “The children are done for supper and I’ll bring some foods here, you may rest early if you wish”
You sat in the bed before responding to the woman “good night, Alma” then she smiled at you and closed the door. And you were sure that if she would smile at you often, you would already be a happy woman with that alone.
#miss peregrine x reader#miss peregrine movie#miss peregrines home for peculiar children#alma peregrine#alma peregrine x reader#mphfpc#miss peregrine fic
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ᴀʟᴍᴀ ᴘᴇʀᴇɢʀɪɴᴇ | ɪ ꜰɪʟʟ ᴍʏ ᴄᴀʟᴇɴᴅᴀʀ, ᴄᴜᴢ ᴍᴀʏʙᴇ ɪꜰ ɪ'ᴍ ʙᴜꜱʏ ɪᴛ'ʟʟ ᴋᴇᴇᴘ ᴍᴇ ꜰʀᴏᴍ ʏᴏᴜ - ɪɪɪ
thank you to @wizzy0, @cordeliaswhore, and @andthatsongeico for convincing me to write this lmaoo
sorry that this is super short tho lol it's just a filler chapter ig
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ᴘʀᴇᴠɪᴏᴜꜱ ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ
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warnings: PTSD
word count: 2K
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@pearplate, @sapphicsarahpaulson, @rainbow-hedgehog, @lostlastsforever756, @waverlysdump, @angelxsarahp, @mildolynwaltzedintomyheart, @sarahp-stan, @dreamer-queen, @ninaahs, @winters-witch-bitch, @lilypadscoven, @loverofallthingssarah, @goodeday2u, @evil-feather, @mellowalieneggsknight, @cordys-babe, @its-soph-xx, @msvenablezcane, @thebijesus, @cordeliaswhore, @peggycarter-steverogers, @paulsonpills, @sassicaismysupreme, @paulawand, @fand0m-obsess3d-g33k, @satxnsupreme, @the-obscurity, @sythaerin
if you want to be added to the taglist, just message/ask me and I'll be sure to do so! :)
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enjoy xx
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THE WAY IT JUST FALLS OUT OF HER MOUTH I'M WHEEZING PLS-
I'm not sure how long I'd been out when I finally wake up to the feeling of someone's hand gripping mine tightly. Light slowly begins to filter through my eyelids and the world starts to register in my head as I awaken, and I take a deep breath to try and fill my lungs with the still air that fills the room. I don't know which soldier is holding my hand, since none of us do that, and it makes me try to open my eyes. It's also bright, I finally realize, something that is certainly uncommon in the barracks. Did I fall asleep outside again watching the stars? I've been doing that a lot recently, I think. But that still doesn't explain the hand, nor the lack of the sound of my general screaming my name. It's certainly late enough, if the position of the sun is anything to go by.
I finally force my eyes open with a quiet groan, and vaguely feel the hand tighten around mine as my head turns towards the owner. Vision blurry, I don't recognize who it is, but it's definitely not a solider. And that's when I remember; I'm home. I came back home. And by the dark color that the blob of a person is wearing, it's either Enoch, which is very unlikely, or the headmistress. Blinking a few times to try and clear the sleep in my vision, I groan again as a pounding headache finally hits me like a freight train. The person quickly leans in, and their free hand gently presses my chest back down as they whisper "Don't try to get up just yet, darling." Oh yes, that's Miss Peregrine. I whine in response, but do as I'm asked and relax back onto the pillows again.
After a moment of silence, I ask quietly "What happened?" Miss Peregrine replies with "You fainted during the reset. You've been out for..." she trails off and I hear the clicking of metal on metal along with the soft sound of a ticking clock as she checks her pocket watch and finishes "six hours and seven minutes," a second later. I hum in response and sigh heavily; my hand remains in hers through the entire ordeal, and it's a welcome weight to help ground me in the moment while I attempt to remember the previous night. I can't recall much other than flashes, but I do remember the planes and the bomb and the panic attack. I finally realize that the person who carried me inside just before I blacked out must have been Miss Peregrine, and for some reason it makes me blush lightly thinking about being in her arms like that.
When I finally have enough of that, I sigh again and, my vision fully having returned to me, turn my head to face the headmistress, who looks to be staring at me, only turning her head away quickly when I make eye contact. I smile teasingly and mumble "It's rude to stare, Miss P," and the woman rolls her eyes, something I notice she only does around me. Otherwise she's much too proper to do something so childish, so it feels like a sort of privilege being able to experience it, even if it's happening because she's annoyed at me. "Are you feeling well enough to stand? I'm afraid dinner is in....ten minutes, and I've yet to prepare the table." I smile and nod, already beginning to push myself up with her quick assistance, and soon I'm on my feet. Miss Peregrine keeps one of her delicate hands on the small of my back as we finally leave my room, and I subconsciously arch into the touch.
When we arrive at the kitchen, the woman leaves my side, effectively removing her hand from my skin and, to my embarrassment, I actually whimper a little at the loss. The sound makes her chuckle quietly and give me a little smirk, one which I return with a pout as I try to deny it. Miss P then turns, still looking smug, and begins to gather plates, calling out "Could you help me set the table, please?" over her shoulder. I shake myself out and grumble an agreement before doing so, taking the china dishes from her hands and moving back and forth between the dining room and kitchen, setting each one in it's place, until there are thirteen perfectly arranged table settings, one for each of us plus Miss Peregrine. Once done, I brush my hands clean from invisible dust and look over my work proudly, returning to the kitchen and announcing "Done!" to the headmistress, who seems to just be finishing something.
The ravenette turns her face to me with a small smile and thanks, before saying "Wonderful. Now, go get ready to eat, you look as if you've just been raised from the dead." I scoff in mock offense, jaw dropping and hand going to my chest. "How dare thou!" I exclaim, acting hurt, but Miss Peregrine just gives me A Look and I wither, reducing down to a pout and a murmured "I'll be right back." She nods curtly and I hear a tiny, satisfied noise leave her throat as I exit the kitchen, heading to my room to get changed and cleaned up.
--
Questions come rapid fire for the first few minutes of dinner, but I luckily don't have to answer most of them once Miss Peregrine calms the children down. I answer the basic ones, if I'm feeling better and such, but I tend to shy away from the reason that I passed out, not comfortable talking about such things with literal kids present. Miss P seems to understand as she gives me a nod when I glance at her, mouthing "Thank you" from beside her. Halfway through, everything calms back down, and the rest of the meal goes smoothly, talks of our upcoming walk, what the others were doing outside before being called in, all that. I stay silent, just observing and listening, but a smile remains on my lips the entire time. Now that I'm older, no longer a child like I used to be, I feel less like their sister and more mature; maybe this is how Miss Peregrine feels.
It's not like I feel like their keeper or protector, I could never do what she does, but it kinda feels as though I've upgraded from sibling to parental figure. I am the oldest one here besides Miss P, after all, so it would make sense why I feel like this. And while it's a loss to not connect with them like I used to, it's already rewarding in and of it's own being someone that they look up to. Miss Peregrine is really lucky to have these kids, I think as I eat, and glance over at said woman. Her eyes shine with contained happiness as she watches over her charges, a barely visible smile ghosting over her features all the while. She loves them, I know that, and faintly remember the few times she gave me that look. It wasn't often, seeing as I was almost always the troublemaker, but when it did happen it felt like fireworks exploding in my chest.
Through my time in the army, I had a lot of time to think. And think I did, about anything and everything under the sun. But my thoughts still fell back to the old headmistress quite often, and I've come to terms with the fact that I definitely had (and probably still do) a crush on the woman. But who wouldn't? She's strong, powerful, confident. She's what every woman wants to be and she doesn't even have to try. Of course someone like me would have a natural pull to her, but it's not like anything could ever come of it anyway, so I just try to keep it down to a minimum. If I can turn the schoolyard infatuation into simple friendly admiration, then everything will be alright. So I focus on my food, finishing it up a few minutes later and returning my attention to the rest of the table once I realize I've been staring.
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"Y/n!" I skid to a halt in the grass, just out of reach of a running Claire, and spin to face the person who called my name. I can hear Claire laughing happily when she realizes that she's going to get away from my tickle wrath, and I glare playfully at her. I then call back "Yeah Miss P?" The headmistress skips over the nickname and says "Could I speak to you please?" I nod, mumbling an "Be right back" to Claire, who pouts before going to find someone else to play with. With that, I follow the headmistress back inside, where she leads me into the study, closing the doors behind her. Gesturing to a seat, the woman sits across from it, quite close to me. When I'm settled, she finally asks "I hope you don't mind, but...I'm curious." I cock an eyebrow in confusion, waiting for her to continue. "Why did you pass out last night? Did something happen?"
My breath catches in my throat for a moment and I realize that there's no getting out of this. There's no way I'm going to deny Miss Peregrine an answer, so I nod stiffly. With a deep breath, I begin answering; "Well, as you know, I've been in the war this whole time while I was gone. And I've had to go through a lot of stuff, but I think that the hardest was definitely the bombings. I've seen homes demolished, families torn apart, parents taken from their children and vice versa." I pause, swallowing roughly to clear my throat. "And last night, even though I knew it wasn't going to hit, I think that seeing the bomb just brought me back to all of that. Remembering all the people that I couldn't save, all the lives that were lost. I just....I feel like I could have done so much more.
"I know that it isn't my fault that I couldn't help everyone, but seeing that thing just coming at you, at the people I love....reminded me of that. I don't know what I would have done if I had actually lost you, or--or anyone that night. So even when I logically knew you would stop it, I couldn't stop my head from throwing me back to the day it happened." I stop, unable to continue as my voice cracks and tears blur my vision. I don't like revisiting my past, especially now that I'm finally out of the army, and doing it in front of someone makes me feel weak, useless. But I'm quickly engulfed in a pair of warm arms that I instinctively fold into, and Miss P mumbles "Alright, alright. It's okay, I'll never let that happen. I will never let any of you get hurt." I nod as best as I can and curl further into the woman's embrace, trying to get as close as I can to her body in the process.
"I still regret leaving, you know," I eventually whisper into Miss Peregrine's neck where I had buried my face, hands holding her blazer. Faintly, her breath hitches and her posture stiffens, but still she hums and murmurs "I know you do. I regret letting you go. But you're a stubborn girl and even then I knew I couldn't stop you." The comment makes me chuckle wetly, knowing that she's totally right. "Still am," I mumble against her and she nods. We stay like that for a while, just mumbling quiet stories to each other, and even once we've separated she still tells me of the things that she and the children have been up to these last eleven years. It's comforting in a way, knowing that life still went on even though I wasn't here, while I was out there helping people. Or...trying to help people, at least.
When it's finally time to part ways, Miss Peregrine leaves me with "I'll always be right here if you want to talk about it, y/n. You have that, right?" before telling me to go back outside for a while. And as I walk away from her, words still ringing in my head, I realize that I'm failing miserably at keeping this little crush down to a minimum.
~
ɴᴇxᴛ ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ
#miss peregrine#alma peregrine#miss peregrine x reader#alma peregrine x reader#miss peregrines home for peculiar children#mphfpc#eva green#eva green x reader#fanfiction#romance#slight angst#x reader#fem!reader#I fill my calendar...#series
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The books Ted gives to his players (I could only catch 4)
Sam: Ender’s Game by Orson Scott Card.
It is about a child genius selected by military forces to save the world from destruction. He is a brave and determined person. Ender is given a special teacher to help him reach a top division. Through a series of tough obstacles, Ender becomes a better tactician. He was so young when he started training and was sent into battle to kill the ‘buggers’.
Parallels: Sam is from Nigeria and is picked to move to England to join Richmond’s first team because of his playing skills and potential. One of the main conflicts is between Ender and his brother, Peter, who was not selected for the elite training program. Maybe this is a reference to Jamie? I think the message Ted wants to give to Sam through giving him this book is even though Ender was successful in battle, he did not make any friends during training. Sam should take the initiative to make more friends. Also, in the book, everything was treated as a competition, and people were not above manipulating each other. This could be a warning to Sam to be cautious and avoid manipulation as his success grows.
Jamie: The Beautiful and Damned by F. Scott Fitszgerald
The Beautiful and Damned tells the story of Anthony Patch in 1910s New York, a socialite and presumptive heir to a tycoon's fortune; his complicated marriage to Gloria Gilbert; the couple's troubling experience with wealth and status; his brief service in the Army during World War I; and Anthony and Gloria's journey through alcoholism and partying. Gloria and Anthony's story deals with the hardships of a relationship, especially when they are each pitted against the other's selfish attitudes. Once the couple's infatuation with each other fades, they begin to see their differences that do more harm than good, as well as leaving each other with some unfulfilled hopes. (From Wikipedia)
Parallels: I honestly think this can be about Jamie’s relationship with Keely. Jamie is obviously Anthony, as the superstar of AFC Richmond. Throughout the book, Anthony is greedy and consumed with dreams of wealth and glory, until he reaches his lowest point (financial ruin, cheating on Gloria, alcoholism). That is when he regrets the decisions he made in his youth. The purpose of giving this book to Jamie is to remind him that maturity is important and he needs to start growing up. Jamie needs to work harder to achieve his goals of becoming a great player, instead of waiting for success to come to him and ending up wasting his youth.
Ok I’m going to add another point. I feel like Jamie throwing away this book could be some foreshadowing that he won’t fit into Richmond. He is ultimately not given the choice to improve because he is traded back to Manchester City. Or perhaps he just hated the idea of reading something given to him by Ted. I’m reading too much into this “lighthearted” comedy. Oh my god.
Robbie (thank you for telling me who this is!): Miss Peregrine’s Home for Peculiar Children by Ransom Riggs
Sixteen-year-old Jacob Portman grew up listening to his grandfather tell him stories of living on an island in a children's home where each child had a supernatural ability of some sort. He goes to the island, fails to find the home a couple of times, and is taken by six children to a stone cairn. He travels back in time to 1940. The school is run by a headmistress named Miss Peregrine, who has her own peculiarities. As Jake learns more about her and the children at the orphanage, he starts to uncover some very dark and scary secrets.
Parallels: From what I know of Robbie, he might like the fantasy adventure element. It’s a book about a group of society’s misfits (with special powers, even the main character eventually discovers he’s special) coming together to get out of a time loop. Or maybe defeat some monsters. I don’t remember the plot, but this could be a message to Robbie to become an important part of the team under the guidance of wise teacher.
Roy: A Wrinkle in Time by Madeline d’Engle
A young girl’s struggle with leadership. Meg is a girl who struggles at school and cannot fit in with the crowd, although she is a smart person. Together with her friend, Charles Wallace, they save Meg’s father from IT. It is about a battle between good and evil, and the eventual triumph of love. This book can be spotted in 3 episodes, including one where Roy is reading it on the treadmill.
Parallels: Let me start off by saying Ted and Beard got it spot on with this book. The need to recognise one’s limitations in order to grow? Roy’s task of being captain of a ‘mediocre’ team. How to distinguish between good and evil? Roy trusting his instincts to make judgements, help the others around him, and choose love instead of hate. (Perhaps have a more cordial relationship with Jamie.) The message that even though conformity brings a sense of peace, it is still so much more worthwhile to embrace the unexpected? This is Roy Kent, a once powerful midfielder going to a middling club to end his career quietly, but then being inspired by Ted and Keely to be a better version of himself.
#in this essay i will thank you for coming to my ted talk#books recs#ted lasso#roy kent feels#jamie tartt#sam obisanya#apple tv#jason sudeikis#a wrinkle in time#ender’s game#the beautiful and damned#roy kent
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Miss Peregrine’s Home for Peculiar Children, the first novel to the popular Peculiar Children series and now turned into a film, was written by author Ransom Riggs and published on June 7, 2011. It claimed the top spot on the New York Time’s Best Sellers List for children’s chapter books on April 29, 2012 after forty-five weeks on the list, and staying there for 25 weeks more.
The novel tells of the story of Jacob Portman, an ordinary boy who soon discovers he was not-so-ordinary all along, after the mysterious death of his grandfather Abraham sparks a catalyst of change in him and the unearthing of deep secrets. His grandfather tells him stories of his early years, how he fought in World War 2, and most especially, his peculiar friends and headmistress Miss Alma LeFay Peregrine from his childhood home in Cairnholm, Wales.
Aside from the usual calling-out of problematic realities that were once treated as social norms and traditions such as discrimination, exploitation, and persecution portrayed in a sinisterly creative way with the Peculiar’s plight against Caul Peregrine and his wights, treacherous Peculiars and the ordinary folk, the story includes an issue even its own contemporaries at this day and age still struggle to talk about openly: mental health and illness.
Witnessing his grandfather’s cold-blooded death and holding his twisted, dying body in his arms, his blood seeping onto him is traumatic enough. Seeing the hideous monster (they’re called Hollowgasts) of his most deep-seated fears stare right at him in the middle of a dark woods as he held his grandfather’s mangled corpse is another thing entirely. A loved one dying a gruesome death and a close encounter with a dangerous monster, all rolled into one mess of a traumatic event. He develops acute stress disorder because of this, which later leads on to ASD’s more famous cousin: post-traumatic stress disorder, or PTSD for short. It’s those symptoms of frequent flashbacks of the event, panic attacks, nightmares that leave him bolting up in his bed and screaming, disturbed sleep patterns, difficulty doing basic tasks (going to school, talking to people) and a surly, unfocused attitude that present themselves as the aftermath of his traumatic experience. For those of us who’ve suffered from PTSD, ASD or any other trauma-induced mental illness, we all know it can’t get any truer than that.
You know what else is also true? How no one really took him seriously.
His parents made jokes about his condition and his experience. His only friend didn’t believe him, and even said he should stop thinking about all of it or else he might actually come down with a mental illness “Keep talking about monsters and they’re gonna put you away. Then you really will be Special Ed.”
You don’t even need to go through what Jacob went through to know that kind of attitude sounds awfully familiar.
Despite the gravity of it all and the possible misinterpretation by potential readers of the book, Ransom Riggs does not shy away from exposing the ugly truths about mental illnesses and trauma, and how devastating they already are on their own without the toxic attitude so many people still have towards them. It’s liberating, in a way, because it gives us more than a story of rebellion against the exploitation and persecution of minorities, which has been present in literature for the past decades, if not centuries (Les Miserables rings with this theme, and it’s a classic). It dives into the recent, nebulous and highly controversial topic of mental illness, and fishes out for us a piece of literature that readers with mental health issues have always longed to read and relate to, but never really knew until now. Although not the main theme of the Peculiar Children series, it brings to the table a glimpse of life with a mental condition, specifically one that was caused by trauma, in its raw and true form (save for some obvious elements of fantasy, like the Hollowgasts and Peculiardom).
And for many of us who were/are bent (not broken, we with mental complications should never be seen as broken because we aren’t, we were never broken because of this), this is another leap to the ever-nearing goal of holding in our grasps the freedom from mental health stigma.
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A Moonlit Sky - Max and Alma
- Max is a Ymbryne who turns into a barn owl -
Max woke up in a soft mound of dark navy sheets and a large down comforter, a light breeze coming in from the open window across the room from her, the moon still visible on the horizon.
She sat up slowly and yawned, smacking her lips lightly as she took in her surroundings. They were so familiar now, it was almost funny to think they were ever strange to her. The powder blue wallpaper with small even lighter detailing surrounding the room, bright and calming. Bookshelves dotted the walls, packed well with mixtures of novels and journals, old and faded to new and clean. She had spent hours reading them with their owner at one point. Though the owner had told her she was unable to read a few of the journals as of yet, and squirreled them away for a later time. Alma was funny like that, she always knew the perfect time for everything. It was part of what made her so amazing.
Max fell back into the warm softness of the bed, Alma would be in soon, she must have been helping one of the children with something. Max always slept better when she was held by the matriarch of the small family.
As if on queue the door to the bedroom opened and in came Alma Peregrine herself, in a nightgown and wrap, pale blue in color and clinging slightly to her curved figure. Her feet moving silently across the floor, "You're awake?"
"I'm a night owl,"
"Ha. Humorus." Alma deadpanned, but the smile didn't leave her face.
The headmistress lifted the covers and slid next to Max, taking an arm and pulling the younger into herself. Max gratefully curled against the woman and sighed happily.
The sound of their breathing was the only thing to cut the warm silence for a long time, Max could feel herself slowly falling asleep before Alma spoke again, "Olive asked me something that has made me consider something I have thought about in passing, and I wanted to ask you about it."
Max manuvered herself so she could face Alma and nodded, "Anything."
Alma, the always confident, always sure and direct, took a nervous breath and began, "Olive asked me if being in love was the same as finding a place where you would be happy to exists for the rest of your life. And I have found that that is exactly the way I feel when I look at you Maxiene Alba. You have become a fixed point in my life and I do not want a life where you aren't with me.
"So here is my proposal, I cannot offer you a marriage, I can't offer you anything but a family who adores you, and all the love eternity can give you, but in all the ways we can manage, I want you to be my partner, lover and wife though eternity...Would you do me the honor, of being mine?
"I don't need an answer right away. I know what I'm asking. Us Ymbryne's don't choose partners quickly and It's a lifetime commitment, and for all we know our life is forever, but I'm sure that you are the only one for me." She finished her statement with a cautious finality.
Seeing Alma genuinely unsure of something was adorably strange, in fact it was so rare it took Max a back for a second just to look at her. Her bright intelligent blue eyes worried and hopeful, her bottom lip being bitten on ever so slightly in anticipation. Her hair spilling over the pillow and the moonlight spilling over her skin.
Max's hand went up to brush across Alma's cheekbone and she grinned, "I thought you would never ask."
The pair's lips met and Alma grinned widely through the kiss.
#Max and Alma#miss peregrine/oc#miss peregrine x oc#self insert#self insert one shot#Max's self insert one shots#self ship#self shipping#self ship one shot
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a moment of apricity, 3/?
Chapter Title: serendipity
Summary: Newt returns to school. Although, he’s a few years too late and in the wrong continent.
A/N: Teacher Newt, for your pleasure. Also on FF and AO3
First • Previous • Next
His Niffler getting out, now that, he should have expected.
Ilvermorny isn't like one of Newt’s expeditions, all wild terrain and free of civil society expeditions. Communities have people; where there are people, there are valuables, and where there are valuables, his Niffler will undoubtedly sneak out to snatch them under everyone’s noses. Of all his creatures, it’s the most mischievous; in all regards, it’s a nuisance (lovable in every aspect, but a nuisance nonetheless) that is more often than naught a thorn in his side. With how long he’s had it in his case, he should be more equipped for its untimely escapades.
Disappointing on his part, truly.
He notices the little rascal is missing during his morning class when students begin complaining their pens are vanishing. One gone is an accident, but eleven missing? Now that is a cry of a heist in the works.
“Professor?” someone asks when he's stopped mid-lecture about the reproduction of Grindylows at the hint of a midnight blue pelt he catches slipping through the window pane.
“Hm, yes? I just-” He checks his watch. Ten minutes before the end of class. “How about we continue this discussion next time?”
His students find that agreeable and he dismisses them without fanfare, out the door and racing up the hill before any of them can begin to gather their things. His Niffler turns to spot Newt halfway up the hill, determination in his eyes, and that's when the real chase begins. It leads him into the school and through the labyrinth-like corridors always one step ahead; Newt would've caught the platypus-like creature easily enough if the school wasn't out for his demise, stretching out the chase far longer than necessary.
As expected, the school turns him around and he loses sight of the beast, but all he has to do is follow the trail of students lamenting about their stolen items, even one or two shining coins leading him deeper into the school until he's in front of an unfamiliar door. It’s unlocked and he slips in without thinking, locking the door behind him. One less escape route to worry about.
The quicker he finds his Niffler, the quicker he can return the possessions undoubtedly stolen. It will be quite a hassle, figuring out what belongs to who- maybe he could find a spell to save him the trouble (though the resulting spectacle of flying possessions would, more likely than not, lead to unwanted talk). Still, he must find the small creature before anything else and that must start somewhere. So, he looks up-
-only to face a room filled with students and a bewildered Ms. Goldstein at the other end.
“Oh, hello.”
There is a moment when the woman doesn't have the words to respond, head angled his way even as she faces the blackboard, wand paused in its guidance of the floating piece of chalk scribbling the fundamentals of counter-jinxes. It doesn't last long. Eyebrows furrowing in a question, her mouth speaks, “Are you looking for something, Mr. Scamander?”
He looks at the nearest table’s edge. “No, no, absolutely not.”
“Then is there a reason for you being in my classroom?”
“No- yes, ah, yes, I do believe there is. Me, being here- there is a perfectly acceptable reason.”
There is a raised platform near the back of the room for what he assumes is hands-on practice. Newt hadn't taken much interest in Defense of the Dark Arts (because that’s what class he has undoubtedly interrupted) and had never been particularly adept, preferring to surround himself with the honest intentions of creatures and potted plants, so he's not as familiar with the layout as he'd like to be. Still, there could be holes and crevices that could house a certain Niffler…
“And?"
He snaps his focus back to Ms. Goldstein. “And? Mmh- oh, yes, the reason...”
She sighs. “Mr. Scamander, if you’re just going to waste time-”
“I was wondering if you could answer a question of mine,” he says in a rush, eyes darting around the room. He doesn't see a familiar pelt and long snout. “I've been searching for, er, a birthday present. A creature, of sorts.
“A creature,” she deadpans. “And you couldn't get it in England?”
“No, there's only one breeder of Appaloosa Puffskeins in the world.”
"We don't allow the breeding of magical creatures in America- Mr. Scamander.”
Newt straightens, practically jumping.The student whose desk he was searching peers at him strangely. “Yes?"
“Did you drop something?”
“No, I was just looking.”
Ms. Goldstein crosses her arms. “So you are looking for something.”
A girl squeals and Newt’s on the move, down on his knees and crawling in the spaces between desks, barely catching sight of a tail before it disappears in the shadows of a cluttered bookshelf. He curses under his breath rising from his knees.
Ms. Goldstein stands before him, frown in place and wand pointed at his face. “I'm going to have to ask you to leave.”
Newt gets the feeling he could be part of a class demonstration if this continues. Best not poke an aggravated Manticore- not that Ms. Goldstein could be mistaken for one, what with her lack of scorpion tail.
Then, he spots it: a twinkle of light by the window.
He crosses the room quickly, climbing ontop of the small bookcase that runs along the wall and peers out. His Niffler pauses at the base of a rafter peering up at him silently before scurrying off, tail flicking in a victorious farewell.
Newt hoists himself up and is already halfway out the window when, “Mr. Scamander!”
He stops. “Yes?”
Ms. Goldstein gives him a meaningful look, a stone carving among the sea of surprised faces that of her class. “We’re on the third story.”
He looks to the ground briefly. “Yes. Yes, I suppose we are.” A few students laugh. “It’s- I’ll be careful, so no need to worry. I'll just- don't mind me. I'll be on my way.”
He finds footholds secure enough to hold his weight and inches down, hands leaving the windowsill and grasping at stone to the best of their ability. There is instant chatter from above.
He's beginning the climb down the outer wall when he remembers his manners. He pops back up, startling Ms. Goldstein and the class into silence. “I, ah, apologize for my disruption of your class. I'll try to refrain from- I mean to say- it won't happen again.” He nods at the students behind her, noting a few that are in his afternoon class. “Goodbye.”
Newt doesn't catch his Niffler.
Instead, he slips and falls from the lowest window and has to explain to the groundskeeper why his prize-winning Alihotsy shrubs are misshapen and destroyed.
Third week into the school year and he finally gets to more interesting subjects with his classes. Reading about creatures and their biology was all well and fine, but even Newt is not ignorant enough to mistake what truly draws people to his field of expertise: the creatures, wild and exotic, and, more specifically, the prospect of gaining hands-on experience with them.
A word to Headmistress Peregrine leads him to a scowling Pukwudgie who shows him to the darker parts of the wilderness north of the school. There, he meets a herd of Thestrals, bigger and taller than those in England. They take to him wonderfully.
Naturally, he introduces them to his classes the following week.
“Now,” he starts once they’ve reached the edge of the clearing, “who of you can see them?”
The herd is meandering about on the other side, handling the appearance of newcomers better than most creatures Newt’s dealt with- certainly better than his mother’s Hippogriffs. They creep closer to where he stands ahead of his class, interested in the bucket he’s carrying. Most of them are fully grown, only two or three foals flapping about the overgrown grass, but the promise of possible food can make any creature, young and old, more compliant and charming.
Less than a handful of students raise their hands, sending hesitant looks to their fellow classmates, who, for all purposes, look utterly confused as he strokes the Thestral’s flank. Newt’s lips twist in a semblance of a smile.
“For those of you who, ah, cannot see- what I have here is a Thestral.”
A good majority shuffle uncomfortably, making eye contact with their neighbors in a rather concerned sideways glance.
"I assure you all that there is indeed a creature here."
The Thestral shakes its head, unfurling its wings in a stretch. Leather skin scrapes along itself like sandpaper, producing a sound that has his back muscles tensing involuntarily. His students must hear it, too, because many of them jump.
Newt reaches out and gently strokes the beast’s neck, soothing the creature.
“Uh, Professor…”
“Yes, Miss Stone."
The girl, tall and dark, looks uncomfortable. She fiddles with her pen, twisting it around her fingers in constant, rapid succession. “Why can only some of us see the Threstral.”
“Thestral,” he corrects patiently. He reaches down and shifts the bucket of meat he had prepared earlier closer. “And the reason for that is because they can only be seen by a person who has witnessed death or come to terms with it.” He catches sight of his student, Gilbert, staring at him apprehensively, as if he would dare lie about such a thing. Gilbert, as Newt had begun to observe over the month, read lips better than his hearing students, but was always adamant on understanding each creature that was brought up in class and required more evidence than the rest.
“How can we know what you’re saying is true?”
To convince him and the lot, Newt decided a visual demonstration could speak for itself. Keeping his face neutral, he offers the skeletal creature a chunk of raw meat, pulling his fingers back so as to escape possible laceration; a few students jerk at the food’s disappearance, watching with morbid fascination as drops of blood fall from the Thestral’s hooked mouth and onto his forearm. Gilbert seems satisfied with the evidence.
"A very ghoulish concept, I know- one of the reasons they're seen as, well, bad omens. It is all based on silly superstition, though, for they are quite gentle and sociable when trained. They're not particularly violent, but will attack when threatened- as will most creatures really- whether it be to themselves, the herd, or even their trainers.” He absently wipes his hand on his trousers. “There have been cases of Thestrals adopting humans into their herds and, under acts of severe loyalty, attempting to protect them from these perceived threats.”
“Have you been adopted?” The question comes from a petite blonde who flushes when he looks to her. “By a herd, I mean.”
"Ah, no, I have not. The last herd I was in contact with was many years ago at Hogwarts and they, well, they're bred for a very specific use and the current trainer did not- wasn't, er, welcome to others stepping in… I, hm, yes."
They must sense his discomfort, for the same girl steps forward with another inquiry. “What do you use them for at Hogwarts?”
“Brilliant question! While first-years take boats from the train to Hogwarts, fifth-years take carriages. Most students believe that they pull themselves…” He trails a single finger down the creature’s spine, giving a small smile when he's rewarded by a shrill neigh of appreciation. “It is to be expected, however. Not many have come to terms with death and likely will not until they are older.”
“And what about you, Professor?”
“Sorry?”
"Who'd you see die?” The question is blunt, but he expects nothing less from these Americans.
Nonetheless, he's taken aback, utterly unprepared to even begin thinking about an appropriate answer. His mind snaps back to a moment not so far away, where he kneels in hot, desert sand and the sun beats mercilessly upon his back. He remembers eyes, dark and full of fear, staring back and how dirty fingers reach out to him seconds before the world explodes in a mess of pain and shadows.
"-amander?”
He presses his lips into a thin line, eyes flickering toward the group and back to the opaque eyes of the Thestral. “An eight-year old Sudanese girl who didn't deserve what she was given.”
The Thestral shakes its head, thin mane cutting through the air like the blade of a guillotine. Its sharp shoulder bumps into his and he forces himself to focus on the sinew of muscle and tissue stretched over a protruding bone. The creature is a constant reminder of his failures, just a hair’s breadth away from succumbing to the overwhelming drag, but Newt doesn't have the heart to blame it.
It cannot help its nature- just as Newt cannot help his.
He smiles to cover the painful lurch of his heart, knowing that it is too brittle to be anything close to alright. He claps his hands together, making them all jump, and pushes forward with a singular focus. The dead are gone and the living need his attention.
“Would anyone like a try at feeding?”
Despite his dislike of favoritism, Newt finds he’s unconsciously taken to one of his classes. A mix between Wampus and Thunderbird, they're a rowdy bunch of twenty always having a thought that needs to be said, an opinion that can't go unexpressed and an inquisition that requires constant stimulation.
He studies them like his creatures observing their habits and social standing. Like his mother’s herd, there's a hierarchy similar to most creatures, rules and etiquette he must follow; who decides what can and cannot be said. These are all things he must know to survive and live efficiently and symbiotically beside these Americans.
Hogwarts and Ilvermorny students are regular children and children have their own social circles. They act as rings, Newt believes, with the closest friends in the center, the lesser known acquaintances scattered more and more the further the circle expands. Housemates by definition are in the inner circles, alongside family, distant friends and most adults taking up space in the farther rings.
Newt believes his designated spot is somewhere in the outer rings, not fully residing in the circle, but rather flitting in and out. The children seem to allow this, not fully inviting him, but not pushing him out, and he makes sure not to breach this allowance. They don't trade secrets (gossip and rumors are the only exception), nor do they divulge in personal matters (his suitcase remains only a suitcase), and yet, despite this, Newt finds he knows more about them than he ever did his Hogwarts classmates.
There's Alma, who can't stand the sight of the insides of a Flobberworm. Benjamin and Aubrey are superb writers, but have trouble distinguishing different breeds of Puffskeins. Leonard can make any argument turn into a debate whereas Marjorie tries to make every debate into an argument, so the two clash leading Bernice to play moderator. Mildred is the unofficial leader, Eustace her right-hand man. Walter and Emil are best mates, the former having something of a rivalry with Christopher. Marina and Delilah are twins, giggly and petite, while Thomas has an younger brother in Horned Serpent. Charles is known to be a Beater who plays rough, but surprisingly very protective of Gilbert, who fancies Harriet. Newt thinks Blanche has a bright future in Herbology and Willis in Potions, and Estelle has utterly no interest in his class and anything he has to say.
Every passing day he catalogues new information- social ticks that set these children apart from the rest.
And he's learning as well. Never before had he considered himself professor material and transitioning from self-proclaimed Magizoologist to an instructor is a difficult process, one filled with trial and error. There's homework and reading assignments that he has to make (almost as boring as his paperwork at his desk job at the Ministry), rules he has to inflict on the students and abide by himself, and he has to keep reminding himself not leave his students alone unless he wishes to come back to a ravaged room. He can’t scrounge around his case if he’s missing something or make a quick check-up in the middle of the day, nor can he let his mind wander when teaching.
He'll forget one tiny bit of detail and then the whole class will smell like rotten eggs or someone's desk will be covered in purple goop that won't come off no matter how hard one scrubs. (He got in particular trouble with the poor Pukwudgie that had to scrape it by hand.)
More often than not, most of his exciting or strange experiences happen during that class. Newt battles with a stray Limax during one of his scavenging trips into the forest, brandishing nothing more than a pair of tongs as he calls for his companions to take their wares and run. There's the incident with the Fire-Crabs, multiple students with inflicted with burns, only it pales in comparison to the fiasco with the Gnomes (which they’ve all been sworn into secrecy). So much happens in such little time that Newt begins to look forward to seeing his students, all of his students, putting more and more effort into their lessons.
And so, when they come across the topic of Hippogriffs, he's not surprised at the dejectedness they feel discovering the school stables are currently empty and have been so for years.
Memories of clinging to his mother's skirts while she went through her daily chores in the pastures; the first hatching, nests once so quiet suddenly bursting with noise, and wet, slick hatchlings stumbling out and eating their first rat; his first ride over the dense forest that surrounds their home, with the wind hitting his face and the beat of the wings reverberating in his ears. They're his fondest memories- parts of his life he'd never want to give away for all the gold in the world.
And so he writes a letter to his mother.
#fbawtft#fantastic beasts and where to find them#fantastic beasts#hp#a moment of apricity#newtina#njckle#amoa
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