#also im shocked that polly's feet turned out so well

[therizinotfuckingthere]

WOOO

[freshouttaparsnips]

You were a simple kind of guy.

Life decided you deserved a little bit of complexity.

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a new series of fic that im gonna work on in my spare time!! its a skeletoncest polycule, but with an added reader twist uwu

tags: Reverse Harem, polycule, Poly of Skeletons, Fontcest, Papcest, Sanscest, but there's also a reader, Slice of Life, no real plot, Tropes Babey, Series, Homelessness, Reader is homeless, Reader has a dog, Reader is FtM, reader is unnamed

read it Ao3

or read chapter 1: Meeting the Horror Fellas below!

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You were a simple kind of guy. Sure, you hadn’t meant to make this move over to the Ebbott region, it was actually on the end of the long list of places you wanted to move. But that was where your job had moved you, so that’s where you’d picked up and gone, both you and your boxer pup, Peony. She hadn’t actually minded much; there were lots of dog parks here for her to hang out in, long stretches of sidewalks just around your apartment that definitely went on just long enough for her to get the need to GO out of her system. Your job was cushy, paid enough for you to splurge a little on the weekends, for you and Peony both.

You appreciated the finer sides of living just under a mountain… at least until said mountain damn near exploded and “Monsterkind” came through.

Now, that was not to say you had anything against monsters. Not in the slightest! You weren’t from around here, you understood a little of the general bias that people had against anything new.

But when the monsters had started entering the work force, well. People on the semi-lower rungs like you? Booted to the curb without a second thought in the name of equality. You’d lost your apartment, and Peony and you had been living in your squat little Ford ever since. It was rough, but you’d been saving up to rent a trailer on the outskirts of town for a few months, and your acceptance of monsters had remained, if not hardened a little.

You weren't going to blame them for needing the essentials of living, just the same as everyone else.

Which led to where you were now, warily watching a couple of more rough looking monsters that were chatting up the tiny, blond lady that worked the front counter of the store you’d finally gotten a job at. Peony had been adopted by the owners of the store as a guard dog, the little old couple chattering on and on about how cute she was. It just meant that you were allowed to keep her with you when you were on duty, a little vest velcro’d around her with the name and logo of the store on it.

You were stocking shelves, Peony keeping an eye on the situation just like you were. The two monsters were clearly from a Fellgrounds, a few other mountains nearby that had also opened up to reveal some monster societies that had gone a little sideways. Most of them had scars, war wounds, and generally had a distrust for other people.

You felt for these monsters more than others; they had to go through extensive testing and rehabilitation to even leave their Underground, though a lot of them had passed those tests if the local news was anything to believe. You weren’t really sure what to believe much these days, but you knew that Polly up at the cash register was trans and had already dealt with a few assholes today. Monster or human, you weren’t letting it slide.

Before you could even set down your can to head up, just to make absolutely certain nothing untoward was going on, a shadow passed over you, the lights above flickering in uneasy patterns as you stood stock still. The tallest monster you’d ever seen in person was passing through the next aisle over, their skeletal head nearly scraping the ceiling as they moved silently towards Polly. Something inside of you was terrified at the sheer display of power, the intent of magic thick in the air, but even you with your limited knowledge could tell it wasn’t directed towards her.

The two monsters were staring right at him, your own eyes locked on his lanky form as he made his way silently to the very front and tilted his head. “Evening friends, are you having issues with the cash register working your cards? I had such an issue the other day, I can help walk you through the process.”

There was nothing but primal fear in their eyes as the two monsters meekly shook their heads, jerking a thumb towards the door as they left, citing their sudden need to be elsewhere. The skeleton watched them go with something like satisfaction in his eyes, and it wasn’t until then that you noticed his outfit.

A bright pink and green tracksuit covered him from neck to ankles, and a bright peach exercise band around his head that said “JOG BOY” on it. Something about it made you relax a little from the tense state you’d been in, your hands setting the cans they’d been tightly holding on their respective shelves.

It was then that you noticed that the intent from earlier was gone, and good lord, was all that just from this dude? You watched as he leaned down to see Polly better, his expression one of humble kindness. She seemed to know him, looking relieved, and you couldn’t hear their full conversation so you figured you’d ask her later just what that was all about… and if you needed to take on more shifts to make sure that people, human and monster both, weren’t harassing the workers.

You’d grown to love working at this store, what with the inclusive policies and the fact that they let Peony stay with you on shift, and you weren’t going to see anyone or anything take advantage of it.

Just as you’d turned back to your work, though, momentary worry about your coworkers abated, that intent came back, only this time it felt cold. The skeleton up front’s warning had been hot, blistering to the mind, a sheer warning of pain.

This one felt like someone had dunked you in an ice bath and was threatening to leave you that way.

“You okay there, pal? Yer looking a little white around the edges.”

The voice came from just behind, your eyes squeezing shut before you turned around and glared hard at whatever asshole was trying to start shit… only to find yourself looking at the chest of another really big monster. He was also a skeleton, but he was shorter by a few feet (even as he towered over you). He was dressed more modestly, what with a simple ratty blue jacket and a pair of gray basketball shorts, but he was wearing a small pink bracelet around his wrist. Before you could even try to guess what it meant, he was leaning toward you a little.

“Hey, you okay? Seriously, I didn’t think Paps’ magic was that strong- well. Naw, that’s a lie, it is that strong.”

You blinked, still staring up at him, when suddenly you were grasped between two boney hands, lifted up and up until you were looking into the hollow eyes of the first skeleton… Paps?

“Oh, my dear human, I haven’t broken you, have I? I can admit my intent can come off a bit… excuse the pun, but intense, to those who aren’t used to our magic signature.” Then he was squinting at you, somehow, and you felt as though your very soul was being examined. You could smell the very subtle hint of some kind of fruity cologne, which made you want to laugh hysterically; what skeleton needed to wear perfume?

“He’s probably fine, Paps. We need’a get back before Red takes off.”

“Paps” rolled his eyes, gently depositing you back on the floor where Peony was severely sniffing all over you as if looking for damage, before nodding.

“Yes, I suppose you’re correct. Human!!”

You stood at attention and he laughed, handing you a little, lime colored business card. You took it with questioning hands, peering down at it as he explained.

“This is my phone number. Please text whenever you have time and would like to have lunch, I wish to apologize for putting you through such shock.”

And with that he pat you on the shoulder, seeming not to notice as you buckled a little under the weight and headed for the front doors, the other, shorter skeleton following along behind with a snicker.

You blinked hard, before collapsing to your ass on the floor, Peony licking your face vigorously once she’d found no signs of injury. You patted her gently both to assure her and to keep her out of your face, but stared down at the card, a simple number on it from the local area.

~THE PHONE NUMBER OF THE GREAT ICHOR!~

You blinked back the tears that had been growing, of both frustration and mild fear, and huffed in pain as you made yourself get up off the floor. Polly would be worried about you, and you really needed to finish stacking these cans.

[orionwhispers]

🍒 Hey, Lolita, Hey! 🍒 ; Tommy Shelby

(A/N - Wow!! Its been a long time, sorry for my absence, I suck! Lana Del Rey is one of my favourite artists of all time and Lolita inspired this imagine, because as Im sure you have all figured out now in my head Tommy is brought to his knees by a small country girl who he adores. I know my characters are all similar but i can’t help it lol! Thank you for your patience and PLEASE let me know your thoughts on this, kisses and hugs my angels xoxox also - lolita is one of my fave books and i would never romanticise pedophilia or anything gross like that, this character is of age and entirely consenting all that good stuff!)

Part Two 

There was one thing Thomas Shelby was not, and that was a babysitter. He was respected and powerful, wise beyond his years with no time for childish antics or immaturity, he had a business to run, one that required his undivided attention. He was surrounded by an aura of dominance and authority, as grey as the smoke that passed his full lips, engulfing those around him and contaminating them with his darkness. In contrast, you're a beacon of light, radiating youth and enchantment - so bright you rivalled the sun, illuminating everyone you came in contact with your exhilarating nature. Maybe that’s why you became so close, two opposite sides of the spectrum drawn together like magnets, unaware that you needed the other to help balance yourselves out.

You were Michaels best friend from childhood, except, when you knew him he was Henry. You grew up in cottages side by side, with matching rose vines blossoming up the brickwork and sharing a stream at the bottom of your garden. Ever since he was adopted by his foster parents you became as thick as thieves, sharing secrets until the sun set and rose again behind the clouds that consumed your neighbourhood. You paddled in the water, catching frogs and newts with your bare hands, splashing each other until your mother ran out, shrieking at you for ruining your new dress. As the years passed and you slipped into adolescence you remained just as close, stealing whisky from your parents and drinking it on the roof of an abandoned house, staying up till midnight in the cornfields, laughing until you burst into tears of pure elation.

Everyone was convinced you would end up together, your mothers sharing tea and tales about what your children and future home would look like. The both of you would roll your eyes, teasing and giggling the other relentlessly, knowing that although the bond you shared was unbreakable, you never once thought of the other romantically. Deep down though, despite his toothy grins and the adventures you shared, you knew Michael wasn’t happy in the country. He was brilliant, destined for a life more than just meadows and wildflowers, as much as it pained you, you knew your best friend would eventually leave.

That’s why, when he came rushing to your house, scaling the vines and darting in through your window as he had always done - (despite the door being constantly unlocked) - and he breathlessly told you about the suited man who had visited him, telling him about his birth mother, you grabbed his face and demanded he leave. You both knew it was for the best, and you helped him pack his bags and fix his best tie as he prepared to start a new chapter in his life, both of you wiping away tears as you remembered your fondest memories spent in the village, grateful for the fact that it brought you impossibly close.

“Oi! You better not forget about me.” You teased, wiping away droplets from your rosy cheeks as you watched him board the train, ready to start his new life.

He rolled his eyes dramatically, “Please. Like you’ll get rid of me that easily, we both know we’re stuck with each other forever.”

His words were beyond true, and no sooner than a week later a letter arrived at your doorstep, it was on fancy paper only available in the inner city and you fingered it gently, running your hands over the words as if they would fade from the page. It described how he had met his birth mother and had been welcomed into a new family - he seemed hesitant to describe them but you didn’t mind, your heart soaring at the happiness leaking from the ink. Despite his stupid pride, he was truthful about how much he missed you, and how it wasn’t the same without seeing you every day, and you agreed, missing the connection you shared. He was adamant that you would come visit, telling you how he was desperate to show you around and introduce you to his family, you beamed with pride, running inside to get your ink and write back.

A year passed and the only way you communicated was through your weekly letters. Without fail, every Friday morning as you drank your tea sweetened with sugar and honey, you perched on the window seat eagerly, unable to stop the grin as you saw the postman’s statement bag from behind the gate. You’d rush outside and tear it open, laying in the grass as you read his weekly update, missing him with your whole heart. You had so badly wanted to go and visit him, but things were more complicated than you anticipated.

Not only did you still have school to complete, but village life was all you had ever known, and you soon got sucked into the routine of feeding animals, taking care of the children and tending to the plants. The letters were the tear in your familiarity, exposing you to a world beyond what you knew. Despite the miles of distance between you both, conversation flowed like it had never stopped, your friendship evident on the pieces of parchment paper travelling across the country. It was something you never knew you needed, for you, it was the idea of a life outside what you knew, more than rivers and fields, that idea that you were possibly destined for more. For Michael, it was a reminder of where he came from and who he had left behind, as he slipped more into a Peaky Blinder, your letters would bring him back to sanity, reminding him of the good in the world.

The Friday following your eighteenth birthday and the start of summer, you were watering the sunflowers blooming below your windowsill when you heard the crunch of the gravel behind you. You twisted at the sound and gleefully took the letter from the weary postman, seemingly tired from the weekly trek he made to your cottage. You thanked him as you felt the package in between your fingers, it was much larger than before, and you could feel a slip of something between the edges of your hands. You ripped it open, your heart hammering as you saw the train ticket, fragile and delicate between your shaking palms and printed in large red letters, Birmingham. Placed behind you could see Michaels tell-tale handwriting but instead of pages of detail, there was only a line.

“Happy Birthday. Come and visit me, no excuses this time. I’ve missed you.”

Much to the rest of the Shelby’s amusement, Polly was a nervous wreck, ever since Michael had announced he had invited you to come stay with them, she had been cleaning and dusting relentlessly. Tommy rolled his eyes as she pushed his feet off of her coffee table, wiping it down for the third time since he had arrived. “You know, Pol, I hardly think this new guest is going to be judging you on the woodwork.” She gave him one of her hardened stares and he held his hands up in mock defeat, sucking on the end of a cigarette and turning the newspaper. “I don’t see why you’re being like this - isn’t she just one of Michaels friends from the country?”

She stopped mid-wipe, placing her hands on her hips and staring him down like a tigress. “She’s his best friend.” She emphasised the words as if they would have any significance to him, he resisted the urge to wrinkle his nose, he had work to do, and he hoped that his cousin wouldn’t keep him busy with childish antics. “Not like you know the meaning of those words.” She added slyly, dusting the bookcase with far too much vigour, sending speckles of dust into the air. “You know how much he goes on about her, it’s sweet. I want everything to go well, She knew him all those years I didn’t… she knows a side of him I don’t.”

Her voice was unusually soft and it made Tommy rub a hand over his eyes reluctantly, he met Polly’s expectant gaze and nodded, a small signal of mutual agreement - he would be nice. He didn’t have any high expectations and hoped the two of you would leave him in peace, he had no need for two teenagers to mess around in his business, his plan was to hole himself in his office for the duration of your stay. He grabbed his jacket and pocket watch, checking the time quickly and making an exit as he realised he was late for a meeting, he offered a salute of departure as he heard his Aunt’s voice cut through the brisk air. 

“I swear, if you mess this up for him Thomas, I’ll kill you with my bare hands.”

He rolled his eyes, she was back.

You weren’t sure what you were expecting, Birmingham seemed as foreign to you as Mars, but that day as you stepped off the train onto the platform, stomach twisting into gnarled knots from your nerves, and you saw the familiar face of your best friend, it felt like home. His transition was shocking though, at first. His hair was shorter, the blonde fading chestnut from his lack of sun, he was taller and broader, and had an aura of power surrounding him, you could tell from the way people avoided his gaze, slinking back like he was a wild dog. His accent was different as well, thicker and he spoke slower, more eloquently as if he had rehearsed every word that fell from his lips. Any qualms you had about seeing him dissolved though, as soon as you saw his trademark eyes and soft smirk, his lips twisting as he enveloped you in his arms. Beneath the fancy suits and rolls of cigarettes, he was still your Henry.

Polly adored you. She was the one you were most terrified of meeting. You knew Michael was adopted, and even as a small child he spoke of his Mother as if she was a Queen from the storybooks you would share, it broke your heart to find out the truth - and your sympathy and genuine kindness made you and Polly close, your heart of gold unusual in Birmingham. The three of you would spend all day and most of the night sharing stories, you could have filled up a book with hilarious anecdotes of your childhood adventures, Polly snorting with unrefined laughter as you reminisced about Michael falling down a well. You were the closest thing she had to the boy Michael once was and loved the fact that you brought a childish glimmer to his ocean eyes.

The days passed and you slowly became more intertwined with the roots of Michaels new life, he opened up to you about the family business and introduced you to his cousins Arthur, John and Finn. They were kind and hilarious, welcoming you with big smiles and hugs as if you were a long-lost family member. You also bonded with Isaiah, sharing a talented knack for teasing Michael and knowing how to exactly get under his skin and make him squirm with embarrassment, the three of you laughing till the sun rose in the Garrison.

Coincidently, that was the first place you met Tommy. It was a particularly hot evening and after Michael enthusiastically showing you around his new kingdom, he dragged you into the pub for something bitter and unfamiliar. You were never much of a drinker, only occasionally stealing liquor from your parent's cabinets and stealing swigs under the stars, but you were desperate for some relief from the unrelenting heat. Arthur and John noticed your arrival, both men beyond tipsy and waving for you to join their booth, you smiled as you slunk in next to them, smelling sour spirits and old cigarettes. Michael returned with a pint of something that smelt and looked like petrol and you raised an eyebrow, laughing as he winked and murmured. “Birmingham's finest.”

It was hot and spicy on your tongue, but refreshing and it didn't take you long until you had downed the glass, enjoying the buzz it gave you. You weren’t sure how long had passed but soon you were giggling like a little girl, already drunk, the blood rushing to your head. You thew your hair back as John told a dirty joke, and you nestled deeper into the arm Michael had swung over your shoulders, at some point he had plucked the flower from the vase on the table and tucked it behind your ear, singing a drunken rendition of a lullaby from your childhood.

“Tommy boy!” Arthurs voice was booming and made you wince from the sudden intrusion. You blinked away the headache forming and tried to focus on the figure in front of you. You almost audibly gasped but managed to close your mouth before you could let it slip, you hoped the blush rising to your cheeks seemed like natural flush from the alcohol and heat but even still you hid behind your loose hair. The man acknowledged his brother momentarily but kept his eyes on you, impassive and emotionless, making you quiver under his stare. Up close he was even more beautiful than you originally imagined, his eyes were the colour of the summer sky and you felt even dizzier as you melted under his gaze. He radiated domination and pure power and you felt beyond intimidated, but so intrigued, his beauty making him an enigma you were desperate to uncover.

To your surprise, he extended a palm, so cool and collected it made you shiver. “You must be, (Y/N)” His confidence was alluring and you nodded in return, reaching across the sticky table to meet his fingers, unable to ignore the spark as your hands connected. “Thomas Shelby.” You simply stared in return, getting helplessly lost in those eyes, feeling hot and drunk and unable to form any kind of sentences. “I’ll be seeing you around.” it wasn’t a question or a friendly remark, it was a statement, one that made your knees buckle, only snapping out of your daze as you heard John snigger.

“What?”

He lit a cigarette, exhaling smoke into the humidity. “I think Tommy has seen something he likes.”

You weren’t what he was expecting. Truth be told he had forgotten all about you, his mind wrapped up in business deals and endless meetings, and he had simply slipped into the Garrison on his way home looking for something strong to numb his thoughts. He wasn’t expecting to see you there, with loose hair and flushed cheeks, captivating everyone around you unknowingly. He hadn’t expected his jaw to clench at the sight of his cousin's arm around your shoulders, heavy and strong against your small and delicate frame. The heat rose inside him unconsciously, even though he had no reason to be jealous of such a small and simple gesture, especially one directed at a girl he didn't even know.

He shrugged the feeling off and remained impassive, extending a hand as he drank you in like a glass of water after a scorching day. He roamed over your features, freckles from the sun sprouting along your nose, eyes big like a young doe’s and lips prominent. It was your skin that made him stop though, impossibly smooth despite the few blemishes of adolescence, untainted from smoke or age, no wrinkles from laughter or sadness. Simply glossy and beautiful, dewy from the heat and unbridled with years of drinking or fighting. He fought off the thoughts in his head as he left the pub, fondling the smoke between his fingers as he slid into his car. You were just a child, you were innocent.

Three days passed without any contact between you both, Tommy caught up with his business and you enjoying spending the days with your best friend. It was just approaching mid-afternoon, the sun was high in the sky and even Tommy had to shrug off his jacket as he approached Polly’s door. He gave three rapid knocks against the wood, waiting a millisecond before sighing in annoyance at the lack of response and unlocking the door with a spare set of keys.

“Pol?”

He ran a hand over his brow as he entered the hallway, searching for any sign of his Aunt. He was feeling impatient, inwardly annoyed at the fact she wasn’t immediately answering - even though he had arrived unannounced. Walking through the kitchen he pressed a hand to the teapot resting by the sink, frowning when the ceramic was cold to his touch and opened his mouth to call one last time.

“Polly?”

“Sorry, you just missed her.”

He turned to the noise, enthralling him like a bell against the wind, soft and gentle. You were stood in the doorway, hair loose and your dress hitting just below your knees, showing slivers of sun-kissed skin. Fire was brewing in the pit of your stomach from the mere sight of the older man and you turned your face to the sink, heading over to wash your mud stained hands to escape his gaze. You cleared your throat at the silence that lasted a millisecond too long, feeling like a school girl with a crush as you felt his eyes trawl across you.

“She just left, with Michael - they went to the betting shop, I think they had some work left behind.” You almost bit your tongue to stop yourself from rambling, but you were embarrassed and insecure, feeling like a complete and utter child. You knew he probably already thought of you as a burden, especially after your ridiculous encounter at the Garrison, and now barefoot in a sundress in Polly’s kitchen, you felt like a field mouse encountering a fox.

“And they left you.”

It was a simple statement and you couldn't decipher any hidden meaning behind it, your anxious nature wondering if it was a dig at you - perhaps he thought you were unable of doing mathematics or simply too stuck up to help out with the family business. You ran your tongue over your teeth momentarily as you turned off the faucet, wiping your palms with a tea towel and shrugging your shoulders.

“Michael doesn’t want me involved.”

“Overprotective, eh?”

“We’ve been best friends since we were kids, we both are of each other.”

Tommy’s lips curled into a smirk, his eyes lighting up with a flicker of humour that you couldn't read as he lit a cigarette. Even an action as simple and collected as bringing the smoke between his lips made you feel uneasy at the sheer authority and power he held over any situation. Being alone in a room with him made you feel small and meek, but you couldn’t help but yearn for him, his dominance and beauty were unrivalled with anything you had met before and you were drawn to him like a moth to a flame.

Unhappy with the silence that engulfed you both, you lifted your leg to scratch your ankle with the underside of your foot, unknowingly lifting your dress an inch higher. You watched as his eyes darted to the flesh that had slipped out, the momentary blip in his demeanour making you regain a sliver of confidence, your eyes meeting properly for the first time.

He was first to break contact, back to his impassive and in-control state. “You been gardening?” The causal dip in conversation made you stammer but after noticing his eyes drift to the stems and tools strewn beside the sink you nod, toying with your fingers.

“Oh yeah, I wanted to thank Pol for everything, she mentioned she loved Violets and I saw some when I was at the market, thought I could surprise her.” Your words were dainty, even with your slight country accent they glided across Tommy’s ears like the finest silk, much to his displeasure at the effect you were having on him.

You noticed the change in the air and tried to brush away your inner discomfort, “I’ll ask her to ring when she’s back? I’ll tell her you stopped by…” You paused, “Thomas.” His good looks and character made you feel small and once again you diverted your attention to the tiling, sure that by now you could memorise the pattern in your sleep.

Footsteps made you tilt your head, and exhale from deep in your chest as you noticed how close you both were now. Without warning his thumb skimmed across the side of your cheek, making your heart hammer madly. He tilted it so you could see the calloused underside was covered in speckles of dirt and immediately your hand shot up, your face turning as pink as the salmon coloured roses outside.

“Call me Tommy,” You nodded, sucking on your tongue for comfort as his ocean eyes bore into yours, a confident smirk on his beautiful features and you inwardly cringed that he knew the impact he had on you. Without warning, he turned to the door, grabbing his coat and box of matches, back facing you as you scrambled to pull yourself together. “It’s a shame.” You looked up, confusion evident on your features, the summer breeze mingling into the cottage as he held the front door open. “Me and Michael, I don’t wanna fall out with him.” His voice was so even and calm you weren’t sure you were hearing him properly, your brows were knotted together in surprise and he answered for you, “but one thing you should know about me - I always get what I want.”

From then on Tommy took every opportunity to watch you from afar. He observed you from a distance, admiring the little quirks and mannerisms that made you, but he remained impassive, refusing to be submerged into you entirely - he had a reputation to uphold after all. However, it was much harder than he thought. During intense family meetings at Polly’s, his eyes would travel to you outside, sat in the sun away from the drama, tanned legs tangled together, reading a book in the grass. Your laughter would hit him like the brisk winter air as it flowed into his office as you giggled down the hall with Michael, forcing him to get up and shut the door, despite it ringing in his ears like wind chimes. You would catch his eye at the Garrison, swallowing pints of bitter as large as your head, or sneak glances at you as you roamed arm in arm with Michael around Birmingham, radiating the cobbled streets with your infectious smile.

One particular morning, as Polly stirred milky tea and spoke about business, he diverted his gaze to you outside. Standing on your tiptoes to hang bundles of washing onto the line, face flushed from the heat and tongue caught between your lips in concentration as you fiddled with the pegs. Feeling eyes on you, he watched as you turned to face him, squinting momentarily from the sun only to blink it away once you recognised the familiar face, you offered him a playful wink, your confidence and cheekiness surprising you both. You grabbed the empty basket and walked away, and Tommy frowned inwardly when he realised he didn’t want you to go.

The sound of clashing china brought him from the depths of his own mind as Polly slammed the cups onto the saucers lining the table. She gave him a pointed look as he sighed when the liquid sloshed onto his sleeve, he went to open his mouth but Polly cut him off, “Stop sniffing around that girl, Tom.” Upon seeing his expression she put both her hands onto the mahogany, looking him in the eye. “I mean it. She’s a good girl and I won’t have you dragging her into this shit. For Michael's sake.”

Polly could strike the fear of God into men and could make anyone twice her size cower from her sheer authority and cold tone. Even Tommy with his abundance of war medals and engraved bullets would think twice before crossing her, but even his intimidating aunt couldn’t stop him this time.

As the nights became longer and the sun beat down like rays of golden honey onto the streets of Birmingham you and Tommy grew closer. It was subtle and small at first, gentle glances and touches, words with hidden meanings and silences filled with significance. He stirred up a feeling in you-you couldn’t understand, something you had never experienced before, flickering in your stomach like a match. Your whole life you had felt tiny and insignificant, but around Tommy he made you feel like the world.

The feared Gangster did an incredible job at wooing you, despite you falling head over heels for just his charm and good looks. He soon realised you weren’t a champagne and pearls kind of girl and surprised you with novels you had offhandedly mentioned or perfumes that smelled of citrus and pine. He made your heart flutter and cheeks widen whenever you saw him, but you still felt massively insecure, you were years younger than him, and despite being mature you could still be playful and childish. He surrounded himself with brilliant and beautiful women and in comparison, you felt tiny, you wanted to trust him, you wanted to more than anything, but you couldn’t see what he saw in you.

He persisted though, knowing exactly what he wanted, he took you to the races, saying it was because your country roots would help him choose a mare, but really he wanted to observe you in privacy. Watching your demeanour change and shift depending on who you were talking to, holding your own against the toffs but being sweet and soft by the horses, making his heart unexpectedly swell. Your confidence around him soon grew, spending evenings reading in the candlelight of his office as he scribbled on forms, occasionally reciting a line that you liked. You exchanged glances, and he offered you his signature smirk that made you weak at the knees.

Your initial worries diminished entirely one late night, as you twirled around with Michael to music coming from the gramophone in the ballroom of a party, slightly drunk from cherry wine and you escaped the garden. He followed immediately, unable to take his eyes off you the entire night, you captivating him completely, you smiled at his presence, face flushed and eyes twinkling, but before you could greet him, he took your faces in his large palms, kissing you passionately under the moonlight.

That night you lay on Michaels bed, limbs spread askew and heart thumping wildly as you recited the night to your best friend breathlessly.

“For fuck's sake, (Y/N)! You could've had anyone in Birmingham and you pick Thomas fucking Shelby, you are such a twat!”

You paused, gauging his reaction and wondering if he was actually annoyed. You never wanted to do anything to hurt him, and you knew that he was massively overprotective and didn't want you involved in the Blinder’s business, but also Tommy was his cousin, and you didn’t want it to be uncomfortable. You both momentarily stared at the other, faces twisted in anticipation until you both broke out in peals of laughter that lasted till your ribs hurt. You threw a plush pillow at him that he caught effortlessly, beating your stomach with it as he declared,

‘Seriously, though. If I ever walk in on you two fucking I’m driving you back to the country myself.”

Truthfully, Tommy had never met a girl like you. He hadn’t expected the connection he felt to be anything more than lust, but to his surprise, his feelings went deeper than that. The women he was usually with were a sharp contrast to you, with your long hair and sun-kissed skin, dancing around barefoot and soft-lipped. He took a while to get attached to anyone, and it happened very rarely so he was beyond confused when he noticed the overprotectiveness and jealousy that bubbled inside him whenever you were with someone other than him.

Something in you brought out a side of him no one had seen since before the war, your youth and optimism awakening a light that he thought would forever be extinguished. You were half his size and about as intimidating as a kitten but it wasn’t long before you had him utterly wrapped around your little finger, so sickly sweet you almost brought him to his knees. The difference between you both was huge, but you meshed together perfectly, he was the most dangerous man in town and you were his little angel.

You were hardly innocent though, using your power over him for manipulation whenever you could. You were infatuated with him and had never been in a relationship like it before, only cheesy kisses with the young boys from back home. You knew how to tease and wind him up, running your tanned legs over the other as you lounged alone, tracing a finger over your exposed collarbone as you drank sweet tea in the sunlight, biting your lip as you read a book, licking your fingers clean of strawberry juice with an innocent grin.

Nights were spent under the stars, forcing him back to his Gypsy roots as you tangled up in one another, hot kisses mingling in the evening air. Giggles escaping your cherry lips as you sat under the crystal sky laughing with Finn, making him pause his work to listen to the noise. Exchanging stolen kisses whenever you could, making him feel young again as you demanded his undivided attention whenever he was free. You were completely drunk off of him, relishing in his kisses and the way the smallest touch could send sparks across your skin, you gave yourself to him entirely, raw and exposed, without a single regret.

The sun would eventually go down, but the heat remained as close as ever between you two. Raspberry coloured blush rising to your cheeks as his finger trailed over your skin, cigarette between his lips. Compared to you he was rough and calloused, and he loved how pure you were in contrast, big eyes and soft-spoken, feeling like he won the lottery at the fact he had you next to him.

“Do you own anything that isn’t pink and frilly?” He’d ask, voice thick with smoke, the room smelling of whiskey and sex. You’d raise a brow and place your hands on his exposed chest, tracing the tattoo as you playfully bit his shoulder and kissed his neck. He toyed with your satin knickers, pulling the lace and greedily eyeing the skin underneath, wanting nothing more than to smother it in possessive kisses of ownership, but relenting as you sat up to answer.

“Thomas Shelby doesn’t like pink?”

Your voice teasing and playful, mimicking the sweet champagne lingering on your tongue from dinner. He rolled his ocean eyes, trapping you in his stare as he smoked in the moonlight. You extended a foot, lavender coloured toes darting across his skin as you tilted your head innocently, reaching up to pull your bra straps over your skin and down your arms.

“I guess I’ll have to take them off.”

Months passed by and you made the decision to stay in Birmingham, not just for Tommy but because the entire Shelby clan were now like your family. You were introduced into the business, despite Tommy’s reluctance at letting you get involved. “For god’s sake Tom, stop acting like her dad! She’s a grown woman!” Polly would protest, defending your honour as you raised a brow in a playful challenge when Tommy forbid you from going to the races with Michael one day.

The truth was, Tommy thought you were far too good for him and knew that his enemies would love to use you against him, knowing how pure and kind you were compared to the blood that stained his hands. Bad thoughts would enter his mind again, you covered in crimson, face black and blue, telling him it was his fault as the light drained from your eyes. The shovels would start again, and he’d become snappy, his walls building back up with thick bricks as he was determined to push you away, telling himself it was for your own good. He’d drown himself in whisky and cigarettes, spend full nights under dim light doing work until his head was thumping and his hand was swollen.

But, as always you would drag him out of it. You rendered him completely useless as you turned the corner into his office, eyes twinkling and smile wide as you crawled into his lap making him grin for the first time in the entire day. You’d reminisce about something that had happened, small hands toying with his buttons, smelling of rose and sweet fruit, talking with your hands, face lit up with glee. As selfish as it was, especially knowing the dangers you were involved in by simply being associated with him, there was no chance he was letting you go, completely trapped under your spell.

Without warning he'd smash his lips onto yours, making you squeal but quickly melt under his intoxicating kiss, the two of you connecting entirely, falling into each other like you were made that way.

“What was that for?”

His voice was deep, eyes solemn and meaningful as he answered truthfully,

“I’m so fucking glad I met you, little one.”

[writing-in-riverdale]

say something | archie andrews x reader

request

written by: kelly

edited by: @jugheadxresderinyourhead

anonymous said: hi ! here’s your character and number(s) : archie andrews , 63,64,66,77 :)

prompt: 63- “you left without saying goodbye.. i hate you for that” 64- “i loved you and then you were gone.. and i knew i’d lost you” 66- “please say something” 77- “i can’t.. i can’t loose you”

chapter song: all about you / birdy

✘

the day that i was sent away was the hardest day of my life to date. a scared 16 year old girl, pregnant with the baby of riverdales small town hero. archie was my dream guy. 

he had always been the one boy that i had a crush on consistantly throughout my life. one day he showed some interest back and that was it.

 we were together and inseperable. 

the night that i lost my virginity to archie was the start of a snowball affect. it sealed our passion for one another and also left me pregnant.

did archie know? no, he didn’t. was i going to tell him? yes eventually. just not now. 

my parents were shocked when i told them, they were local lawyers and active members of the church so as you can imagine, they weren’t happy. the plan was to send me to a home for un-wed mothers. i made it clear that the baby was going to stay with me, and they respected that. 

on one term.

 i left for the duration of my pregnancy and when i returned, the baby would be made out to be my orphaned cousin who my parents “adopted”. 

and after a week of paprerwork, i was gone. i wasn’t allowed to talk to any of my friends, i wasn’t allowed to tell archie, i wasn’t allowed to even tell my older brother who was in college at the time. it was our own personal deep, dark secret.

✘

over the last 8 months, i’ve developed into a mother. i gave birth to my daughter a week ago, and i’ve never felt better. bettys sister polly was here too. she is pregnant at the moment with jasons baby. what a shame. shes been helping me with my little girl, she’s also been helping me figure out what im gonna say when i get home. 

“you know that betty will be a great babysitter.” polly stated, trimming the roses.

“betty will be a great mom one day.” i reply, smiling while i remember my best friend who i miss dearly.

the baby starts to fuss, so i sit down in the garden and begin to feed her. 

“does it hurt?” polly asked, curious about the breastfeeding.

“at first it does, butonce you get used to it its super natural and relaxing. shes getting what she needs from me.” i clarified.

there was a blissful silence in the garden. i loved being here with my little princess. 

“have you got a name for her yet?” 

“i have a few that i like, im not sure which one i want for her yet.” i answer, trying to think of a better excuse for not naming her yet. its just that i dont feel any of the names that have been suggested thus far arent good enough for her.

the moment of blissfulness was about to end. and so was my trail of lies.

from the courtyard, i catch a glimpse of betty and jughead. they were running past all of the nuns to get to the rose garden. it was comotion, people were shouting as the pair of them start calling out for polly. 

i knew they were looking for her but i didn’t think that it was going to ever lead to them being here, while im here. feeding my baby, that they don’t know exists.

i see betty hug polly, and that brings a massive smile to my face. and while they were having a sweet reunion, jughead looks over at me. his eyes almost pop right out of his head. he turns a ghostly shade of white. 

“betty..” juggie says, stepping back. 

“whats up-” she was stopped mid-sentence. she too, had the same deer in the headlights look. 

“y/n?” she says looking down, at the pink blanket draped over my shoulder.

“hi guys.” i mutter, smiling softly.

the tension could of been cut like butter. it was dead quiet, confusion and shock filling up the atmosphere around us. now it was time for me to explain.

✘

“so the baby is archies?” betty enquired, her arm around my shoulder.

“yes. 100 percent.” i reply, looking down at my little girl.

“and your parents took you here, so that people would think you had gone to live with your brother while they were adopting the baby?” jughead recalled while stroking her little hand with his thumb.

“again, yes. i wanted to leave this place at first but i love it here now.” i state, looking around at the old building with lush gardens and wild flowers.

“we need to get you home, the both of you.” betty insists, getting up and dusting her skirt off. 

and with that the plan was hatched. myself and polly were to pack our stuff and betty would pick us up at midnight. 

and so she did. she came in archies truck, which she borrowed and we drove off into the night. i was longing for him. 

✘

we arrived at bettys grandmas house. it usually sat empty because her grandma was always overseas. she had set it up for myself and polly to stay in while they where figuring out what to do next. 

betty has made us some tea, we were sitting on the sofa exhausted from the crazy escape.

“jugheads staying at archies.” she said quietly, pursing her lips as if the words were forbidden.

“he’s better off at the andrews’ house.” i insisted, pretending like i didn’t even care that she mentioned archies name. 

the night was coming to an end, i settled down in a spare room and i fell asleep.

  ✘

the next morning i had decided to do something completely and utterly stupid. i was going to go and see archie. i needed to tell him that i was back and that i was the mother of his child. 

i was always one to act on impulse, thats what led me to be where i am in my life.

i got into a pair of jeans and a loose white shirt, put my hair up into a ponytail and got a diaper bag ready for the baby. we were about to leave when betty see’s me heading out the door.

“where are you going?” she asks, leaning against the doorway.

“i need to do it today bets, i can’t be here and not see him.” 

“lets go then.” she expresses, grabbing her car keys and heading off in front of me. no questions asked. 

“betty, the baby?” i ask, holding heer car seat.

“bring her with, i’ll watch her while you speak to him.” she suggests.

what am i doing? is this really going to happen? i feel sick. 

✘

as i walk into the auditorium at riverdale high, i feel this urge to crack a smile. as much as i used to hate it here, i’ve missed this place. 

it was always nice coming in and being a kid. i’ve had to acknowledge that archie wont be happy to see me. i know him well enough to establish that the boy has issues with people leaving him. 

i walk into the football locker room and head straight to his locker. i can see him standing there, texting someone. i stand awkwardly trying to say something but its like my voice disapeared.

 i take a sharp breath, trying to get some more confidencence to talk but im just numb. he’s so beautiful and as i see him standing there i remember looking at my baby. she has his eyes. those beautiful eyes.

and then i see him put something back into his locker and he quickly glances over at me and looks back. then it was like reality had stopped, he stared into his locker, trying to comprehend if his brain was decieving him. 

it wasn’t.

i was there.

he looked back at me, this time for longer. he had scanned my body. he knew something was different, i could tell.

“hey arch.” i mutter. pressing my foot against the concrete.

he just continued to stare at me. not a peep. 

“please...say something..” i stutter, trying to comprehend what he is thinking. 

“thats the thing-” he says looking up at me.

“i don’t know what to say..” he continued, placing his left hand throigh his thick hair.

the silence was deadly. you could hear the white noise.

almost in the same moment that silence was shattered by him slamming his fist against the metal locker.

he was impulsive, like me.

“FUCK” he raged, scaring the shit out of me.

my breathing picks up, i close me eyes. i felt his pain. 

“what the fuck y/n? you leave and then..oh shit.” he sits down, overwhelemed by the situation. 

“arch i can explain..” i say walking over to him. 

“explain what? you left without saying goodbye..and i hate you for that.” he spits, looking at me dead in the eyes. 

and with that, it felt like my whole world had stopped. i was almost winded by that word. hate. had it really gone that far?

“i loved you so much too.” he continues. 

“like i had so much love for you and you didn’t take that seriously.” he sneered.

“i cant loose you..” i croaked.

“well you should of thought about that before you left me without saing anything. god, you really dont get it. i loved you and then you were gone.. and i knew that i had lost you.” he confessed.

“I didn’t leave because i wanted to, i had to.” i snapped.

“you left because you’re selfish.” he interupted.

“i left because i was pregnant.” i corrected him.

and then the white noise returned. he looks at me and all of a sudden it clicked in his mind. thats why i looked different. thats why i had changed and thats why i had left. he looks around the room, as if his reality was slipping. 

“you had a b-” he stops to breath.

the look on his face was priceless.

“you had a baby?” he stammered, obviously shocked.

“i had our baby. i had to leave arch, i didn’t have a choice and i couldn’t tell you.”

he uses his hands to rub his face, tears forming very slowly in his eyes.

“i’m not mad.” he admits, looking down at his feet.

“i know.” i answer.

“i’m hurt or i was hurt. i don’t know-” he was interupted by a cry.

i see betty rush into the locker room with the stroller.

“i think she’s hungry.” betty whispers, looking at a gobsmacked archie.

“she?” he asked looking up.

i go towards to stroller, grabbing the baby. and lifting her up. 

“i want to hold her.”  he stands up, marching towards me. 

i look down at her, she wasn’t hungry. she was fussy.

archie comes around and looks down at her face. i could feel him almost melt. 

“she is so beautiful.” he says in awe.

“she looks just like y/n.” betty mentions with a smile ever present on her face.

“she does.” he agrees.

“she has your eyes arch.” i smile, gushing over this gorgeous child that i had a part in creating.

i turn around and i hand the baby to archie, proudly.

“have you named her?” he asks, looking up at me.

“i have a name in mind.” i reply.

“and?” betty questions.

“well my grandma’s name was ivy and archies grandmas name was belle, so i was thinking-”

“ivy belle.” he says cutting me off abruptley.

“oh thats so sweet.” betty whines, pulling her bottom lip out. 

“ivy belle andrews.” i purred.

archie looked at me and without any hesitation,

“im her dad.” he smiles.

✘

and in a moment, a hostile environment can be turned into a memory forever fuelled by love. 

archie and i got married when he graduated high school. he was working with his dad, and also writing and producing music on the side.

we had little miss ivy belle, and shortly after our wedding we welcomed a little cheeky little ginger haired boy named freddie forsythe. 

the teenage girl who was once pregnant and scared is now happily married, a mother of two and a journalist at the riverdale register. i never thought that my pregancy would of lead to my happily ever after, but it did.

✘ 

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[readbookywooks]

THE FIRST JOKE AND OTHER MATTERS

IT was of course the Lion's voice. The children had long felt sure that he could speak: yet it was a lovely and terrible shock when he did. Out of the trees wild people stepped forth, gods and goddesses of the wood; with them came Fauns and Satyrs and Dwarfs. Out of the river rose the river god with his Naiad daughters. And all these and all the beasts and birds in their different voices, low or high or thick or clear, replied: "Hail, Aslan. We hear and obey. We are awake. We love. We think. We speak. We know." "But please, we don't know very much yet," said a nosey and snorty kind of voice. And that really did make the children jump, for it was the cab-horse who had spoken. "Good old Strawberry," said Polly. "I am glad he was one of the ones picked out to be a Talking Beast." And the Cabby, who was now standing beside the children, said, "Strike me pink. I always did say that 'oss 'ad a lot of sense, though." "Creatures, I give you yourselves," said the strong, happy voice of Aslan. "I give to you forever this land of Narnia. I give you the woods, the fruits, the rivers. I give you the stars and I give you myself. The Dumb Beasts whom I have not chosen are yours also. Treat them gently and cherish them but do not go back to their ways lest you cease to be Talking Beasts. For out of them you were taken and into them you can return. Do not so." "No, Aslan, we won't, we won't," said everyone. But one perky jackdaw added in a loud voice, "No fear!" and everyone else had finished just before he said it so that his words came out quite clear in a dead silence; and perhaps you have found out how awful that can be - say, at a party. The Jackdaw became so embarrassed that it hid its head under its wings as if it was going to sleep. And all the other animals began making various queer noises which are their ways of laughing and which, of course, no one has ever heard in our world. They tried at first to repress it, but Aslan said: "Laugh and fear not, creatures. Now that you are no longer dumb and witless, you need not always be grave. For jokes as well as justice come in with speech." So they all let themselves go. And there was such merriment that the Jackdaw himself plucked up courage again and perched on the cab-horse's head, between its ears, clapping its wings, and said: "Aslan! Aslan! Have I made the first joke? Will everybody always be told how I made the first joke?" "No, little friend," said the Lion. "You have not made the first joke; you have only been the first joke." Then everyone laughed more than ever; but the Jackdaw didn't mind and laughed just as loud till the horse shook its head and the Jackdaw lost its balance and fell off, but remembered its wings (they were still new to it) before it reached the ground. "And now," said Aslan, "Narnia is established. We must next take thought for keeping it safe. I will call some of you to my council. Come hither to me, you the chief Dwarf, and you the River-god, and you Oak and the Owl, and both the Ravens and the Bull-Elephant. We must talk together. For though the world is not five hours old an evil has already entered it." The creatures he had named came forward and he turned away eastward with them. The others all began talking, saying things like "What did he say had entered the world? - A Neevil - What's a Neevil? - No, he didn't say a Neevil, he said a weevil - Well, what's that?" "Look here," said Digory to Polly, "I've got to go after him - Aslan, I mean, the Lion. I must speak to him." "Do you think we can?" said Polly. "I wouldn't dare." "I've got to," said Digory. "It's about Mother. If anyone could give me something that would do her good, it would be him." "I'll come along with you," said the Cabby. "I liked the looks of 'im. And I don't reckon these other beasts will go for us. And I want a word with old Strawberry." So all three of them stepped out boldly - or as boldly as they could - towards the assembly of animals. The creatures were so busy talking to one another and making friends that they didn't notice the three humans until they were very close; nor did they hear Uncle Andrew, who was standing trembling in his buttoned boots a good way off and shouting (but by no means at the top of his voice). "Digory! Come back! Come back at once when you're told. I forbid you to go a step further." When at last they were right in among the animals, the animals all stopped talking and stared at them. "Well?" said the He-Beaver at last, "what, in the name of Aslan, are these?" "Please," began Digory in rather a breathless voice, when a Rabbit said, "They're a kind of large lettuce, that's my belief." "No, we're not, honestly we're not," said Polly hastily. "We're not at all nice to eat." "There!" said the Mole. "They can talk. Who ever heard of a talking lettuce?" "Perhaps they're the Second joke," suggested the Jackdaw. A Panther, which had been washing its face, stopped for a moment to say, "Well, if they are, they're nothing like so good as the first one. At least, 1 don't see anything very funny about them." It yawned and went on with its wash. "Oh, please," said Digory. "I'm in such a hurry. I want to see the Lion." All this time the Cabby had been trying to catch Strawberry's eye. Now he did. "Now, Strawberry, old boy," he said. "You know me. You ain't going to stand there and say as you don't know me." "What's the Thing talking about, Horse?" said several voices. "Well," said Strawberry very slowly, "I don't exactly know, I think most of us don't know much about any thing yet. But I've a sort of idea I've seen a thing like this before. I've a feeling I lived somewhere else - or was something else - before Aslan woke us all up a few minutes ago. It's all very muddled. Like a dream. But there were things like these three in the dream." "What?" said the Cabby. "Not know me? Me what used to bring you a hot mash of an evening when you was out of sorts? Me what rubbed you down proper? Me what never forgot to put your cloth on you if you was standing in the cold? I wouldn't 'ave thought it of you, Strawberry." "It does begin to come back," said the Horse thoughtfully. "Yes. Let me think now, let me think. Yes, you used to tie a horrid black thing behind me and then hit me to make me run, and however far I ran this black thing would always be coming rattle-rattle behind me." "We 'ad our living to earn, see," said the Cabby. "Yours the same as mine. And if there 'adn't been no work and no whip there'd 'ave been no stable, no hay, no mash, and no oats. For you did get a taste of oats when I could afford 'em, which no one can deny." "Oats?" said the Horse, pricking up his ears. "Yes, I remember something about that. Yes, I remember more and more. You were always sitting up somewhere behind, and I was always running in front, pulling you and the black thing. I know I did all the work." "Summer, I grant you," said the Cabby. "'Ot work for you and a cool seat for me. But what about winter, old boy, when you was keeping yourself warm and I was sitting up there with my feet like ice and my nose fair pinched off me with the wind, and my 'ands that numb I couldn't 'ardly 'old the reins?" "It was a hard, cruel country," said Strawberry. "There was no grass. All hard stones." "Too true, mate, too true!" said the Cabby. "A 'ard world it was. I always did say those paving-stones weren't fair on any 'oss. That's Lunn'on, that is. I didn't like it no more than what you did. You were a country 'oss, and I was a country man. Used to sing in the choir, I did, down at 'ome. But there wasn't a living for me there." "Oh please, please," said Digory. "Could we get on? The Lion's getting further and further away. And I do want to speak to him so dreadfully badly." "Look 'ere, Strawberry," said the Cabby. "This young gen'leman 'as something on his mind that he wants to talk to the Lion about; 'im you call Aslan. Suppose you was to let 'im ride on your back (which 'e'd take it very kindly) and trot 'im over to where the Lion is. And me and the little girl will be following along." "Ride?" said Strawberry. "Oh, I remember now. That means sitting on my back. I remember there used to be a little one of you two-leggers who used to do that long ago. He used to have little hard, square lumps of some white stuff that he gave me. They tasted - oh, wonderful, sweeter than grass." "Ah, that'd be sugar," said the Cabby. "Please, Strawberry," begged Digory, "do, do let me get up and take me to Aslan." "Well, I don't mind," said the Horse. "Not for once in a way. Up you get." "Good old Strawberry," said the Cabby. "'Ere, young 'un, I'll give you a lift." Digory was soon on Strawberry's back, and quite comfortable, for he had ridden bare-back before on his own pony. "Now, do gee up, Strawberry," he said. "You don't happen to have a bit of that white stuff about you, I suppose?" said the Horse. "No. I'm afraid I haven't," said Digory. "Well, it can't be helped," said Strawberry, and off they went. At that moment a large Bulldog, who had been sniffing and staring very hard, said: "Look. Isn't there another of these queer creatures over there, beside the river, under the trees?" Then all the animals looked and saw Uncle Andrew, standing very still among the rhododendrons and hoping he wouldn't be noticed. "Come on!" said several voices. "Let's go and find out." So, while Strawberry was briskly trotting away with Digory in one direction (and Polly and the Cabby were following on foot) most of the creatures rushed towards Uncle Andrew with roars, barks, grunts, and various noises of cheerful interest. We must now go back a bit and explain what the whole scene had looked like from Uncle Andrew's point of view. It had not made at' all the same impression on him as on the Cabby and the children. For what you see and hear depends a good deal on where you are standing: it also depends on what sort of person you are. Ever since the animals had first appeared, Uncle Andrew had been shrinking further and further back into the thicket. He watched them very hard of course; but he wasn't really interested in seeing what they were doing, only in seeing whether they were going to make a rush at him. Like the Witch, he was dreadfully practical. He simply didn't notice that Aslan was choosing one pair out of every kind of beasts. All he saw, or thought he saw, was a lot of dangerous wild animals walking vaguely about. And he kept on wondering why the other animals didn't run away from the big Lion. When the great moment came and the Beasts spoke, he missed the whole point; for a rather interesting reason. When the Lion had first begun singing, long ago when it was still quite dark, he had realized that the noise was a song. And he had disliked the song very much. It made him think and feel things he did not want to think and feel. Then, when the sun rose and he saw that the singer was a lion ("only a lion," as he said to himself) he tried his hardest to make believe that it wasn't singing and never had been singing - only roaring as any lion might in a zoo in our own world. "Of course it can't really have been singing," he thought, "I must have imagined it. I've been letting my nerves get out of order. Who ever heard of a lion singing?" And the longer and more beautiful the Lion sang, the harder Uncle Andrew tried to make himself believe that he could hear nothing but roaring. Now the trouble about trying to make yourself stupider than you really are is that you very often succeed. Uncle Andrew did. He soon did hear nothing but roaring in Aslan's song. Soon he couldn't have heard anything else even if he had wanted to. And when at last the Lion spoke and said, "Narnia awake," he didn't hear any words: he heard only a snarl. And when the Beasts spoke in answer, he heard only barkings, growlings, bayings, and howlings. And when they laughed - well, you can imagine. That was worse for Uncle Andrew than anything that had happened yet. Such a horrid, bloodthirsty din of hungry and angry brutes he had never heard in his life. Then, to his utter rage and horror, he saw the other three humans actually walking out into the open to meet the animals. "The fools!" he said to himself. "Now those brutes will eat the rings along with the children and I'll never be able to get home again. What a selfish little boy that Digory is! And the others are just as bad. If they want to throw away their own lives, that's their business. But what about me? They don't seem to think of that. No one thinks of me." Finally, when a whole crowd of animals came rushing towards him, he turned and ran for his life. And now anyone could see that the air of that young world was really doing the old gentleman good. In London he had been far too old to run: now, he ran at a speed which would have made him certain to win the hundred yards' race at any Prep school in England. His coattails flying out behind him were a fine sight. But of course it was no use. Many of the animals behind him were swift ones; it was the first run they had ever taken in their lives and they were all longing to use their new muscles. "After him! After him!" they shouted. "Perhaps he's that Neevil! Tally-ho! Tantivy! Cut him off! Round him up! Keep it up! Hurrah!" In a very few minutes some of them got ahead of him. They lined up in a row and barred his way. Others hemmed him in from behind. Wherever he looked he saw terrors. Antlers of great elks and the huge face of an elephant towered over him. Heavy, serious-minded bears and boars grunted behind him. Cool-looking leopards and panthers with sarcastic faces (as he thought) stared at him and waved their tails. What struck him most of all was the number of open mouths. The animals had really opened their mouths to pant; he thought they had opened their mouths to eat him. Uncle Andrew stood trembling and swaying this way and that. He had never liked animals at the best of times, being usually rather afraid of them; and of course years of doing cruel experiments on animals had made him hate and fear them far more. "Now, sir," said the Bulldog in his business-like way, "are you animal, vegetable, or mineral?" That was what it really said; but all Uncle Andrew heard was "Gr-r-rarrh-ow!"