#peculiar

She floats a little higher now, chin on the ceiling beam, and coaxes her voice into casual cheer. “Morning, Enoch.”

He mutters something that might be “Mornin’” or might equally be a curse. The look he flicks upward isn’t cruel, but it is distant as if she’s become part of the wallpaper. And that hurts more than any sharp word.

TIME SKIP

The dining room hums with silverware and small talk while wan November light folds itself onto the long table. Olive hangs just below the ceiling cornice, pretending to inspect a cobweb so she won’t have to watch Enoch brood five chairs away, yet she can’t stop counting the place settings.

One extra plate. One extra cup. One extra napkin.

'He’s coming,' Enoch had said. 'He'll be here by supper.'

Olive’s pulse has been clanging ever since.

Enoch sits rigid beside the empty chair, knuckles white around the water glass he hasn’t lifted. Olive sees how he mutters silent rehearsals to himself, little jaw-twitch giveaways that anyone else would miss. She used to think that meant he was scheming, now she understands it’s what he does when he’s frightened.

And Enoch O’Connor is very much afraid.

The grandfather clock in the foyer strikes six, stalls, and coughs on its own chime. A chill draught flicks every candle flame side ways. Conversation stills, even Millard’s invisible napkin freezes mid-dab.

Then the front door swings open and a boy steps into the threshold. Frost crystals bead on his coat, melt and vanish. He’s handsome in a lived in, windblown way, with eyes lit like struck matches the instant they lock on Enoch.

Everything else slips out of focus for Olive because Enoch is smiling. Not his usual thin victory curve, but something shy and aching, like a candle held inside cupped palms.

Enoch stands up, bridges the space in three strides and tangles his fingers in the newcomer’s coat lapels, kissing him full on the mouth. Gasps ricochet off the foyer walls. Olive’s own breath deserts her. She rises six inches before the weight of her surprise hauls her back down with a clank.

Enoch draws away just far enough to rasp, “Thought the rails would swallow you.” His voice is unsteady, but his hand doesn’t leave the boy’s jaw.

The newcomer’s grin is pure sunrise. “Nearly, but you forget I know someone who raises the dead. A delay in schedule is child’s play.”

Enoch’s answering smile is so bright Olive almost shields her eyes. He ushers you to the seat beside his, never releasing your hand, and only remembers the rest of the household when you clear your throat and nod toward the silent audience.

“Everyone,” he mutters, cheeks flaming, “this is Y/N.”

You do a small bow. “Apologies for arriving late. Miss Kovar insisted I carry her compliments and also half a bakery’s worth of kolache.” You set the parcel on the table with a grin. “Apparently love travels best when sugared.”

Tentative laughter prickles the tension. Chairs scrape and conversations stutter back to life. All normal noises except Enoch is glowing.

Even as he courts his best glower, the corners of his mouth keep betraying him, hitching upward every time your shoulder bumps his.

“Stop crowdin’ me.” Enoch mutters, yet makes no effort to shift. Instead his hand hooks over the back of your chair, thumb stroking the unexposed skin of your neck.

Olive watches from across the roast, astonished. This is the boy who once referred to hugs as “unsanitary sentiment.” Now he’s practically nesting around you like a raven shielding a stolen jewel.

You spear a partridge morsel before holding it to his lips with a smirk. “Eat, misery guts. You’ve missed at least three meals stalking train platforms.”

Enoch narrows his eyes but takes the bite straight from your fork. “Wasn't stalking. Timetables were inaccurate.”

“A tragedy,” you sigh theatrically. “Shall I write the rail office a threatening letter in dead-ferret ink?”

“Shut up,” Enoch says, but the reprimand washes out on a laugh.

You lounge back, smug. “There it is. An actual giggle. Mark the calendar, everyone.”

Bronwyn grins. “Noted. Six-oh-eight post meridiem: Enoch O’Connor proves he has lungs for something other than sighs.”

Enoch tries for menace, fails, and ends up nudging his knee against yours beneath the table. When your hand drifts to his thigh he exhales, shoulders losing another ounce of tension before he's practically leaning so far in your personal space you might as well share a chair.

Olive’s cheeks burn. Her chest feels helium thin and molten all at once.

So this is why Enoch never looked at her the way she looked at him. Not because he was heartless, oblivious or delighting in cruelty. But because his heart had already wandered into another loop and built a nest there.

"Come in." You yell out to the door.

Emma is there, as you expected. Her eyes trail over you, and she holds an amused expression.

"You've changed clothes!" Emma states, like it's exciting for her.

You try your best to be polite. "Yeah, my last fit was getting too stuffy."

Emma nods, but you can tell she doesn't exactly relate.

"Do people from your time regularly change clothes often?" Emma asks you, a little bit too eagerly.

What?

"What do you mean, 'from your time'?" You ask, confused. You suspected that Emma was very old-fashioned, but you thought that's just how she was.

Emma blinks for a moment, before she relaxes. "Ohh, I forgot you don't know."

You have a feeling that a crap ton of information is about to be dumped on you. You scoot off of your new bed, slipping on some shoes that you packed.

"Well, I guess this is where our tour starts... and where I tell you everything." Emma retorts.

She waves you forward, and you follow after her, out the door. You peer around the hallway, making yourself familiar with all of the different doors.

"So, I'm assuming you know what peculiarities are already." Emma asks.

"Yeah, it's a recessive gene, right?"

"Yes. Well, Miss Peregrine is a special type of peculiar, called an Ymbryne-"

"Ymbryne? That's a funny word." You mumble.

"Right? We have no idea where it comes from... but anyways, it means she can turn into a bird, but she can also manipulate time." Emma explains.

You feel kind of crazy just listening to Emma like this, like you're actually supposed to believe it.

"To protect all of us from the wights, the hollowghast, and the bombs, Miss Peregrine basically created a time loop for all of Cairnholm." She pauses for a moment.

"The hollowghast are these very dangerous monsters; they will hunt you for your eyes, so that they may gain the power of your peculiarity. Wights are just the smarter, evolved version of them." Emma explains, with a hint of warning in her voice.

Bombs??? Your jaw goes agape for a moment as Emma leads towards a specific room. You can only nod; the hollowghast and wights must be the 'bad people' that your parents mentioned you must escape from.

"The problem is, none of us can see them, not even Miss Peregrine." Emma comments.

That makes your skin crawl. The idea of there being one anywhere, maybe even in the loop...

She pushes open the creaky door, revealing a very old, very victorian washroom. There's a very small toilet, and bathtub, so that's really all you can ask for. Most of it is actually wooden, with a few hints of cream tile here and there.

"This is the washroom. There's another one way off, and we all take turns using both, in no particular order." Emma explains. You nod.

"So, how does that work?" You ask.

"The taking turns?" Emma asks, leaving the door open.

"No, the time loop."

The both of you start making your way towards the staircase.

"Well, it means that we live the same day, September 3rd, 1943. The outside world carries on and ages, while the rest of us don't." Emma states, beginning her walk down the stairs.

After a moment of thinking, your eyes widen. "So all of you are stuck as the age you were when you came into the loop?" You ask, incredulously.

You start to wonder how that logistically works out. Does everyone mentally age, but stay in a child's body? Does everyone stay mentally as the age they physically are?

With an unfortunate frown, Emma peers at you and nods, like she's afraid to admit it out loud.

What the fuck.

"I want you to guess my age." Emma asks.

You take a good look at her. "Maybe like, 17, 18?"

Emma chuckles. "Close. I'm physically 19, but in actual time I'm 84."

You stop in your tracks, mid-step on the stairs. Your eyes widen, your brows furrow as you stare at her. This past week, you thought that you were only staying temporarily.

A tiny, dark amount of dread creeps in your stomach.

"Are you serious? You've been here for like, 65 years?" You ask, half in disbelief.

"Yes. Too long, but it's not like I have any other choice." Emma sighs, wistfully. You can seriously sense the sadness in her voice.

You peer down at the foyer, and then all around you to see if Miss Peregrine was somehow listening or watching.

"Yes you can. You could leave right now." You exclaim, but in an extremely hushed voice. You say it as if you desperately need it to be true.

Emma sadly shakes her head no. "That's not how it works. If you stay here too long and come in contact with the real world, your age will catch up to you. If you stay here past 90, you'll most likely die if you even try to escape."

What Emma tells you feels like the weight of a thousand bricks on your chest. The silence between the both of you is thick.

Emma's expression is solemn, like she understands your shock. With the way her face is, you can tell that she's obsessed over this same very damn thing; the concept of eternity.

"It'll be okay." She starts.

Wordlessly, you follow her down the stairs, into the foyer.

Emma leads you to a doorway off in the corner of the foyer. The faintest scent of bread wafts through the door. You see classic black and white square tiles along the floor, as well as a few wooden cupboards in the background.

"This is the kitchen— hey Olive!"

By the counter, stands a girl with vibrant red hair. You assume her to maybe be about your age. There's a certain fierceness to her eyes that you can't really explain, along with freckles that sprinkle over her nose and cheeks. Similarly to Emma, she wears a flowery, pilgrim-like dress.

Though, you can't stop staring at how she repeatedly handles a slice of bread on a hot stove; she's just flipping it back and forth, no tongs at all. You swear her hands just touched the fire.

"Emma!"

The girl stops her... cooking? and goes to wave back, before she's stopped by the sight of you. You notice the way her jaw immediately drops, before it twists into an excited smile. She gasps.

"You must be the new girl!" Olive exclaims, before leaving her slice of bread aside to step closer.

"I guess I am... I'm (name)." You shyly say.

Olive peers down at your outfit, awestruck. "(Name), you look so new and striking. I never knew that this is what girls in the future are wearing."

She's probably been here longer than you've even been alive, you think.

But, maybe for the first time today, you smile genuinely. "Thanks, I can let you try on some of my clothes sometime, if you'd like?"

Olive smiles joyfully, like you just gifted her a million dollars.

"Really!? Oh, you're so fun! I've always wished that we'd get another girl our age." Olive smiles, meeting eyes with Emma. Emma nods in agreement, like they've both discussed this before. You can tell that the two of them are close.

The redhead then urgently turns back to her piece of toast on the stove, using her bare hands to flip it again like it wasn't even hot to begin with.

"Any of you want one?" She asks, pointing to the toast.

Both you and Emma nod. Olive responds by grabbing two more slices of bread, tossing them onto the bare stove.

"So, what's your peculiarity?" Olive asks you, eagerly.

You feel happy that you can just openly talk about this.

"I can control the weather, rain, snow, tornadoes, all that."

Olive snaps, pointing to Emma. "Mm! That's gonna be very useful for chores."

Emma nods in agreement. "That's what I was thinking-" She turns to you. "-most of us have to do daily chores here. It sucks if you have a 'useful' peculiarity though, because the bird will probably make you do more."

"The bird?" You ask.

"That's what we call Miss Peregrine. The bird, Miss P." Olive butts in, flipping the toasts.

"Ohhh, I see... is your peculiarity fire-related, Olive?" You ask shyly.

She smiles. "That's right, it's fire. I can make it with my hands, handle the heat. Miss P always has me light the fireplace or the candles."

"Here." Olive states, handing each of you a piece of buttered toast. You never even realized how starving you were until the food was right in front of you. This past week was so rough, you had little to no appetite, no sleep either.

"Come with us Olive, I'm just touring." Emma states, between bites of toast.

Olive reaches for these tar-black gloves, slipping them on before switching off the gas stove.

"I thought you'd never ask." She says.

Miss Peregrine's house was just as big as you'd imagined when you first saw it; Emma took you through so many rooms, sections. The library was amazing, with giant chaises, every book you can ever imagine, and even those ladders that you can use to roll across the shelves. The greenhouse was also extraordinary, with beautiful flower bushes, fruits and vegetables, and medicinal herbs.

Though, with every kid you meet, time haunts you.

In the theatre, you ran into this boy named Horace; he wore this monocle, which you found really interesting. Though he couldn't be older than 12, he wears a crisp suit and tie. You thought that he was extremely well-mannered and posh.

What scared you was that he mentioned he knew you were coming, but then explained that it was his peculiarity. He had a prophetic dream of you arriving in Cairnholm, and walking to Miss Peregrine's.

But, the two of you immediately linked over a shared appreciation for clothes. Horace took an instant interest in what you were wearing, asking what it was made of, where it came from, and if that's what's 'in' with girls of your time.

You answered him earnestly and passionately, while he just listened very eagerly. He seems very nice. Everyone here is so kind.

When you met Millard laying in the living room, you literally couldn't believe your eyes. You stared at him a little too much, trying to comprehend how he could possibly be invisible.

Though, seeing Millard kind of persuaded you to believe that all of this is real. After all, there was an invisible person, right in front of you, moving and living. He also was not as shocked to see a 'person from the future', though maybe it's because you couldn't exactly see his facial expressions.

You thought it was amusing how both the girls were completely comfortable around Millard, enough to where they'd each make these snappy and clever jabs at him. Millard is very witty, you learned.

They've probably known each other for over fifty years.

The rest of the peculiar children apparently liked to spend most of their time playing outside.

Just when you thought this place couldn't get any more beautiful, Emma and Olive introduced you to the backyard. Genuinely, who has time to even upkeep this entire place? You were amazed by the different-shaped bushes, vibrant flowers, and even the aphrodite fountain way off to the right.

It only took you a few steps into the garden for the children to start crowding by your feet, staring at your appearance and asking you many, many questions.

There was this boy named Hugh, who could grow bees inside his stomach and control them however he liked. You noticed he wore this beekeeper's hat, to keep them from getting everywhere. Undoubtedly, it was the most strangest peculiarity you've ever seen.

Fiona was very very sweet, she gifted you a flower that she grew herself. You noticed how flowers and little sprouts grew by her feet as she stood. You'll never forget when she asked you if there were flying cars and machines in your time. You said no.

Claire was absolutely adorable; her fluffy pink dress suits her so well. You feel so maternal over her, it makes you want to sew and put her in cute little dresses. Though, you noticed that she was the only one who was secretive of her peculiarity.

You've made a mental not to never cross Bronwyn, because there's no doubt that she could probably throw you through a wall. But thankfully, she is very sweet and kind. When you (awkwardly) greeted her, she lifted you up and spun you around!

All the peculiar children had so much to say, so much to ask you. They asked about flying machines, what it's like in your time, why you wear such 'showy' outfits. Some of them were just chatting you up, like they wanted to impress you and be heard.

All of them were from 1943. It was crazy to see what people from that time were like. It bothered you for some reason that Claire was so little. She never gets to grow up. Every kid you met just brought you more dread, more of a reminder of what would happen if you stayed too long.

Eventually, after much child interrogation, Emma and Olive swept you away back inside the house, to give you a break.

Inside, Olive boiled up some tea for the three of you, which you awkwardly sipped. Truth be told, you've never really been offered tea before. But, it was delicious, like this pear and green tea blend.

The three of you lounge in the living room for a bit, gathered around a low oak coffee table, and surrounded by tall windows.

"I don't know why I was expecting there to be more children, like a schoolhouse. I bet all of you guys are close, since there's only like 8 of your right?" You mention, leaning back on one of the many couches in the home.

Emma and Olive peer at each other knowingly, before Olive sets her empty mug down on the table.

"Well... there's one more person you have to meet." Olive states.

You peer at her expectantly.

"His name's Enoch. He spends most of his time in his room." Emma says, with a bit of a playful jab in her voice. She sets down her finished tea.

"Now should be an alright time to bother him, right?" Olive asks Emma, turning around to look at the grandfather clock lined up next to the bookshelves.

"Probably. I mean, what else could he possibly be doing?" Emma asks. The two nod.

Emma and Olive rise from their seats, and you follow suit. Kindly, Olive reaches her two gloved hands out to you, excitedly pulling you out of your seat with a giggle. You can still feel a warmth from her hands, through the gloves.

"Come! It's the last of the tour anyway." Olive states.

You discard your mugs in the sink, before marching up the staircase. It creaks under your feet, reminding you of how truly old the house is. Miss Peregrine's starts to feel familiar to you by the tiniest bit; you recognize the washroom as you pass by.

"Just warning you, Enoch can come across as..." Emma starts, as you're all walking through the hall of bedrooms.

"Grumpy." Olive fills in.

"Yeah, but he doesn't mean anything by it so don't take it to heart." Emma says, solemnly.

"I'll keep that in mind." You say.

Finally, you all reach Enoch's bedroom door, which happens to be the very last one at the end of the hall. The door is blank, yet seriously olden and worn with age.

Emma's the one to knock on the door.

"Enoch! There's someone we want you to meet!"

At first, there's no answer at all, before Emma leans her ear up against the door. She knocks once more.

"Enoch, let us in!" Emma exclaims.

A set of heavy footsteps causes Emma to step back. You hear shuffling, just behind the door, and the sound of a lock being handled with.

The door creaks open, and your eyes widen just the tiniest bit.

There, leaning against the doorframe, stands a guy, with possibly the darkest under-eye circles you've ever seen. His head of short, dark curls hangs low, yet his piercing gaze still scans over you. You peer at him for a second, noting his pale skin and angular face.

He dresses exactly how you imagined a guy from the 1940's would dress; a crumpled white dress shirt and sweater over his broad shoulders. A pair of slacks, some loafers. He'd be taller, you think, if it weren't for the way he slouches.

You feel awkward, magnified under his gaze, but you're kind of used to that today. You kind of expected Enoch to be a little kid, not some young adult from a dark academia Pinterest board.

Though, you don't notice the way his earns turn slightly red, the way he knowingly meets gazes with both Emma and Olive.

"Who's this?" He asks.

"Our new girl, (name)." Emma states, matter-of-factly.

"We're introducing her to everyone." Olive also states.

After a moment, you look at him. "Hi. It's nice to meet you."

There's this awkward pause that only lasts a split-second, but to you feels like 10 minutes. You gaze at Enoch for an answer, watching his eyes scale over your face, your outfit, your hands.

"Hello. First time seeing a girl from the future." He says, a hint of something you can't decipher in his voice.

"Oh, I've been hearing that a lot." You reply, with a breathy chuckle. You notice the way the corner of his mouth slights upward, just the slightest bit.

Olive eyes Enoch's room, craning her neck.

"Enoch let us in." She whines. Enoch scoffs, rolling his eyes.

"I've already introduced, isn't that enough?" Enoch replies, tiredly.

"Let us in Enoch, you can show her your peculiarity. You've been cooped up in there alone for too long." Emma says.

There's a certain expression written on Enoch's face, one of hesitancy, as if he has something to hide. Shame, maybe. But, he glances between the two girls and sighs, taking a step aside and slowly pushing the door all the way open.

Both Emma and Olive let out a successful cheer, dragging you through the door. You notice the way he holds the door open for the three of you.

Olive cheerfully beelines for the window, shaking the curtains of dust a bit before parting them wide open, allowing for sunlight to pour into the room. Emma scans through some bookshelves near the window, searching for something.

As you saunter around, you're met with the most olden, but personalized bedroom you've ever seen. There's a well-made bed in the corner, but what amuses you the most is the pleathora of old books and bookshelves around the room. A large table stands in the middle, scattered with papers, sketchbooks, charcoal, and trinkets. Everything is somehow brown, black, or earthly-colored. Sketches on paper decorate the walls.

Though, your awe slowly turns to horror when you realize there are various jars filled with various... body parts? lining other shelves. You squint at them for a second in shock, seeing bones, hearts, and other mysterious organs. You try to be polite, by pretending you never saw them.

"They're not human."

You flinch at the sound of Enoch's voice, behind you. You didn't even realize that he was so close.

"The... jars?" You ask, turning around. He nods.

"No. Just animals. I'm not that weird." Enoch remarks, before sauntering towards the girls.

If you say so, you think.

Enoch goes to lean against the high table, like he's waiting for Olive and Emma to leave.

"Enoch, show (name) your peculiarity." Emma asks, gesturing towards the table with a book in her hand.

You make your way over there, trying to find something in his room to interest yourself with so that you don't look odd just standing there.

Enoch stares at Emma with a frown, like he's trying to plead no with his eyes. He seems embarrassed, or maybe a little ashamed. With a heavy sigh, Enoch leans off the table, and you watch as he walks over to a particular shelf.

The floorboards creak under his heavy shoes as she picks out a specific jar from the shelf which you can see is filled with various small hearts. He sets it on the table, before walking off another corner of his room, in which he grabs this clay figurine.

At the large table, Enoch unscrews the jar of hearts, before making the quickest glance at you through his hanging hair to see you're paying attention. You are. You conceal your disgust as Enoch pulls a little heart out with his bare fingers. At this point, you really don't know what to expect with people's peculiarities.

You watch as Enoch worms the little heart into the chest of the clay doll, deep. He lays the doll flat on the table, pinching the chest cavity closed. He then places his palms on the table, like he's trying to concentrate. The room is silent as he stares at the clay doll very intently, without blinking.

A yelp escapes your mouth when the clay doll suddenly comes to life, wriggling and squirming around before rising up like a vampire would. You can't keep your eyes away as the doll stands up on it's own, moving around the table like it's alive.

Slightly disturbed, you peer at Enoch for answers, but he just stares at you back. He's really good at that, you think.

"Enoch is a necromancer." Olive states, eyeing the doll as it shuffles around on the table.

"Wow." Is all you can say.

Enoch jerks his neck to the left the smallest bit, which seems to deactivate the doll. It drops down, lifeless and as limp as it was when he pulled it from the shelf.

"Can't do it without hearts though." Enoch remarks.

"So you Just have jars of random animal hearts?" You ask. Enoch nods.

Enoch goes to put his things away, while Emma is skimming through a book and Olive is toying with some of his trinkets. They seem very comfortable with him, like they come in here to bother him all the time.

Olive peers at you. "(Name), show us your peculiarity! I don't think you have yet."

Now that you think about it, you haven't. Secretly, you feel really glad that you can just openly show off your peculiarity; you're too used to concealing everything. From across the room, Enoch intently peers at you.

"I guess I can try." You say shyly; you feel like you have to do it properly, since there are actual peculiar people around you.

Thinking for a moment, you take a few steps towards the window, pushing the curtains open more so that the ocean and outer woods are totally visible. The three of them intently watch as you gaze out into the sky.

After admiring the view for a second, you focus really hard on the sky, envisioning what you want to create. You raise your hand practically up to the glass, pursing your lips as you concentrate.

Enoch, Olive, and Emma watch in awe as a mass of dark grey storm clouds start to form over the ocean. They come together quickly, transforming into a collection of clouds that starts to pour rain. They can hear the rumbling thunder, the loud pitter-patter of the rain.

You let the rain last for a couple of moments, before trying to dissipate them with the wave of your hand. As the dark clouds slowly turn lighter in color, dispersing further throughout the sky, golden sunlight leaks through the clouds. In turn, what forms is a beautiful, half-arch of a rainbow across the ocean, starting in the clouds and ending just at the horizon.

You let out a sigh of relief, thankful that it didn't end poorly. You turn to them.

"Wow!"

"(Name) that was amazing!"

Emma and Olive make tiny claps, with amused smiles, and you blush. You don't notice it, but Enoch's jaw is slightly agape, his unblinking and wide-eyed gaze on you.

"Thanks guys, I try to practice that." You admit, flustered.

Suddenly, this sharp, piercing pain cuts through to the back of your head. You squeeze your eyes shut and your eyebrows crinkle, immediately reaching your palm to the back of your head to feel over the pain.

"Oh, (name) what's wrong?" Emma asks you, her hand on the side of your arm.

"Sorry... I just get bad headaches if I overdo it." You mention, peeling your eyes open. You feel almost embarrassed, being fussed over.

Olive goes over to you. "That's okay. Let's have you go back to your room to rest, until dinnertime."

You nod in agreement, trying your very best to ignore the pain that burns in your head.

As Emma and Olive kindly usher you out of the bedroom, Enoch is already at the door, holding it wide open for the three of you. As you all pour out into the bedroom hall, you turn your head to look at Enoch one last time. He looks at you for a split second, before closing the door, locking it afterwards.

As Emma leads you all down the hall, you realize your room is only two doors down from his.

"Wow, that went well." Olive mumbles.

Emma looks at you. "Usually, he's way more grumpy and rude than that."

"Really?" You ask. "He seems alright."

Olive chuckles. "Just wait until you catch him on three hours of sleep, then he's really a monster."

You let out an amused huff, trying to imagine him as some rude stickler.

The three of you reach your bedroom. Kindly, Emma opens the door for you and you step inside, before looking at your two new friends.

"Thanks Emma, Olive for giving me a tour. You're both so nice to me." You tell them, earnestly.

They both give you this kind, warm smile.

"It's nothing, (name). We're just so excited to have another fellow girl!" Olive exclaims, turning towards a happily nodding Emma.

"We'll show you all the things, even the secret ones." Emma mentions, with a wink.

"Well, we'll leave you alone for a bit. Dinner will be roasted fish tonight, so one of us will call you over when it's ready." Olive explains, and you nod.

You give both of the girls a wave, as they step away towards the staircase. They wave at you back, before you softly close the door shut.

You let out a long sigh, turning around to gaze upon your new bedroom. It's so nice to have a moment of silence, especially after talking to people all day. It's been a rough week, and the presence of your headache quickly lulls you to sink into your bed.

As you lay down, you can't help but start to ponder about what Emma said. It's been on your mind all day; that everyone here has been here for over half a decade, and that they can't leave.

It scares you like nothing ever has before, something that's inevitable and all-consuming. Eternity. So many different thoughts and ideas swirl through your head, and you start to wonder if this is all really how it's going to be.

a/n: ugh i need pearverse enoch so badddd 😩😩😩😩, anyways ya emma n olive r ur loop bestiessssss

should i make playlists for this???????

anyway here is what you wear when you change (sorry its low quality):

what (name) saw as soon emma told her that the loop is eternal and entrapping:

(name) walking into miss peregrine's for the first time: