#skele analysis

[skeletonsloverockcandy]

Man, each year I get to it, I love the May 5th entry and what it means. I take something new from it each time. Like last year I noticed the sacrifices and efforts the Driver and the other passengers made to try and save Jonathan, a stranger to them, by showing up early, by giving him gifts, by blessing him, despite the danger that puts them in. Especially when Dracula, as the driver, points it out to the Driver of the first coach, what he was trying to do, and scares him by pointing out what he said (despite it being heard far out of normal earshot and over the sound of horses galloping).

This year though, I notice that, but I see some of the smaller details too. Like how the mountains are full of blooming fruit trees, and how we are so used to the “gothic” aesthetic we almost forget it’s Spring. How Jonathan takes notice and comfort in the view, despite the growing unease he feels because of the people around him. He is trying to distract himself from how scared he’s getting based on their warnings. Warding him from the Evil Eye.

"No, no," he said; "you must not walk here; the dogs are too fierce"; and then he added, with what he evidently meant for grim pleasantry—for he looked round to catch the approving smile of the rest—"and you may have enough of such matters before you go to sleep."

I also take notice of this from the driver, as it’s almost a morbid gallows humor that he clearly knows to expect the wolves, and knowing what happens later, I’m sure the people here have a horrible fear of them, knowing what Dracula can do…and what he does to that poor mother later.

There were dark, rolling clouds overhead, and in the air the heavy, oppressive sense of thunder. It seemed as though the mountain range had separated two atmospheres, and that now we had got into the thunderous one.

We also get here what might be our first indication that the Count can control the weather to an extent.

They were driven by a tall man, with a long brown beard and a great black hat, which seemed to hide his face from us.

All I can imagine is Dracula in a fake beard now lol.

"You are early to-night, my friend." The man stammered in reply:—

"The English Herr was in a hurry," to which the stranger replied:—

"That is why, I suppose, you wished him to go on to Bukovina. You cannot deceive me, my friend; I know too much, and my horses are swift."

But God, this must have been terrifying for the driver and the passengers. What would Dracula do to punish them for trying to escape him? Would he dare make an example in front of the Englishman right now, or would he grant them mercy to say nothing else as Jonathan is unsuspectingly led to his doom, so they think.

"Denn die Todten reiten schnell"— ("For the dead travel fast.")

The strange driver evidently heard the words, for he looked up with a gleaming smile.

It feels like they’re all in on some sick joke that they know the punchline to, but Jonathan doesn’t, so with the dramatic irony, it feels like we the readers are the same peasants, trying to do anything to save or warn Jonathan but it’s already too late.

I also notice how quickly Dracula tries to shift the power dynamic with Jonathan, and have him doubt his sanity so soon, and he’s not even in the castle yet.

He drives him in circles to try and disorient Jonathan and make him feel even more lost, also keeping him out for far later and making Jonathan question if he’s dreaming or if what he’s seeing is real. I’d also bet more than anything that wine he offer Jonathan on the coach that Jonathan didn’t end up taking was drugged. Because it’s far easier to disorient an unconscious passenger in the dark than it is to disorient a conscious passenger. But he still does a pretty darn good job.

Then there’s the blue flames, which Jonathan doesn’t know how to react to as they seem supernatural and he doesn’t know how to rationalize it yet, so he takes it as if he’s dreaming.

This gave me a sort of shock, for I suppose the general superstition about midnight was increased by my recent experiences. I waited with a sick feeling of suspense.

Jonathan also has already felt the fear and nerves associated with the supernatural and superstition after what all of the townsfolk have told him, and later he tries to brush this off and rationalize again, try not to get too scared, but a part of him already realizes something is wrong.

Then a dog began to howl somewhere in a farmhouse far down the road—a long, agonised wailing, as if from fear.

I also want to point this out, as it’s right before the wolves surround the coach, but it’s the second time a “dog” has been mentioned howling in the night, and with this evidence, I bet Dracula uses the wolves as a threat to keep the peasants and townsfolk in line, as he can’t munch down on everyone. But it shows how powerful he is and what a threat he poses. I wonder who the wolves kill in the night.

Also how Jonathan, as an Englishman where there were no more native wolves, can’t even imagine that’s what they were and thinks they are dogs.

And it makes sense now that earlier when Jonathan was getting out his good ol’ polyglot dictionary, how the two words mean the same thing.

"vrolok" and "vlkoslak"—both of which mean the same thing, one being Slovak and the other Servian for something that is either were-wolf or vampire.

As Dracula, as we see later, can transform into a wolf himself, and so there is probably less distinction between the two in this culture than we have tried to establish in the modern day.

Once there appeared a strange optical effect: when he stood between me and the flame he did not obstruct it, for I could see its ghostly flicker all the same.

Ah, I wonder if this is an early indication that Dracula cannot be depicted through traditional means? Like how he can’t be seen in the mirror. Certain lights just, pass through him.

I shouted and beat the side of the calèche, hoping by the noise to scare the wolves from that side, so as to give him a chance of reaching the trap.

We also see Jonathan taking an active and proactive approach, in this manner trying to be helpful and aid his (what he assumes human) driver. With these sorts of actions already, I can see signs of the man who will pick up a shovel to try and do what needs to be done. Who takes a knife and vows action, not hesitating.

He is polite right now, he’s on business. He doesn’t know what’s coming. But regardless, that person is still in him, and he’s capable of taking great action and doing great things for the sake of survival and doing what he thinks is right.

And Dracula commanding the wolves to stop as the driver, and the cloud passing overhead, I feel is like a subtle display of power and threat to Jonathan. He’s still playing pretend, but when Jonathan does figure out he was the coach the whole time, and he plays coy, the Count knows Jonathan will remember this threat, and it feels that much more sinister.

Jonathan still questions and thinks he fell asleep, as he doesn’t see how he’d have missed the approach of the castle otherwise, but I think he was awake because it was dark, and the count was intentionally taking him a winding and confusing path under a lot of fear. Though if he did fall asleep, I’m that much more terrified about how Dracula was driving him about, now secure in the knowledge that Jonathan would be thoroughly isolated and lost.

And the thing that nearly gives Dracula away twice as the driver is the strength of his grip on Jonathan’s hand, also lacing a subtle threat.

through these frowning walls and dark window openings it was not likely that my voice could penetrate.

Well this is just scary knowing how trapped Jonathan becomes later, knowing he wouldn’t be able to hear the outside world, and how the outside world might not be able to hear him, and how he’s already acknowledging that.

The time I waited seemed endless, and I felt doubts and fears crowding upon me. What sort of place had I come to, and among what kind of people? What sort of grim adventure was it on which I had embarked?

He already is expressing doubts and fears, he isn’t ignorant of what situation he might be in, and it’s only later when he tries to rationalize with the count and is given the comforts manipulation of food and sleep, that he tries to dismiss these fears and take the Count at his word.

Was this a customary incident in the life of a solicitor's clerk sent out to explain the purchase of a London estate to a foreigner? Solicitor's clerk! Mina would not like that. Solicitor—for just before leaving London I got word that my examination was successful; and I am now a full-blown solicitor!

Okay, this is just really cute. Mina said You passed the Bar, you Deserve to call yourself a Solicitor Jonathan <3

Also explains a lot that Jonathan is a fresh faced baby lawyer who just passed the bar and needs this assignment. He’s probably hoping that after this pay day he can marry Mina and have enough for them to start making a life together. Also says a lot for Dracula’s strategy to him to get someone young, inexperienced, and unfamiliar with the area, who might be seen as “expendable” so that Jonathan’s sudden “disappearance” might go unremarked by those in charge (though Mina would notice).

I began to rub my eyes and pinch myself to see if I were awake. It all seemed like a horrible nightmare to me, and I expected that I should suddenly awake, and find myself at home, with the dawn struggling in through the windows, as I had now and again felt in the morning after a day of overwork. But my flesh answered the pinching test, and my eyes were not to be deceived. I was indeed awake and among the Carpathians. All I could do now was to be patient, and to wait the coming of the morning.

Again, those early signs of doubt and fear from Jonathan, showing his unease already at the situation. We did not deserve to be clowning on him so much when this book club first started. It’s not his fault he’s not genre aware 😔 I’m sorry Jonathan.

And when Drac does show up to open the door:

"Welcome to my house! Enter freely and of your own will!" He made no motion of stepping to meet me, but stood like a statue, as though his gesture of welcome had fixed him into stone.

I wonder if he’s like that because he needs to be invited into places to be there, so if it’s almost like a supernatural hold of importance for him to offer the same thing. Almost like a subtle joke or curse with the knowledge that after Jonathan enters, he won’t be allowed to leave of his own will

holding out his hand grasped mine with a strength which made me wince, an effect which was not lessened by the fact that it seemed as cold as ice—more like the hand of a dead than a living man.

I also like how all the clues are there, and since Jonathan has written them down and taken note of them, the expression on them must be some of the things he’s piercing together about his own fears as well that he’s afraid to voice aloud or in his journal, because if he voices his suspicions, they might become more real to him.

The strength of the handshake was so much akin to that which I had noticed in the driver, whose face I had not seen, that for a moment I doubted if it were not the same person to whom I was speaking

See? He knows what’s up, he’s just afraid to say it.

I also didn’t pick up that Jonathan’s room is octagonal for some reason. I wonder if there’s any reason for that or symbolism with the 8 sides?

Also the letter from Mr. Hawkin���s feels very ominous in retrospect knowing what’s coming and how Dracula will treat Jonathan:

"I must regret that an attack of gout, from which malady I am a constant sufferer, forbids absolutely any travelling on my part for some time to come; but I am happy to say I can send a sufficient substitute, one in whom I have every possible confidence. He is a young man, full of energy and talent in his own way, and of a very faithful disposition. He is discreet and silent, and has grown into manhood in my service. He shall be ready to attend on you when you will during his stay, and shall take your instructions in all matters."

I feel like Dracula knew to take advantage of that, and also this feels like him basically reading the menu for an ideal victim once his business is said and done, so I get shivers, brrrrr.

Hitherto I had noticed the backs of his hands as they lay on his knees in the firelight, and they had seemed rather white and fine; but seeing them now close to me, I could not but notice that they were rather coarse—broad, with squat fingers. Strange to say, there were hairs in the centre of the palm. The nails were long and fine, and cut to a sharp point. As the Count leaned over me and his hands touched me, I could not repress a shudder. It may have been that his breath was rank, but a horrible feeling of nausea came over me, which, do what I would, I could not conceal.

I also like that while Jonathan is describing Dracula, he notice his hands. And I am also struck with how little it is brought up that he has hair on his palms, and I can see the more wolf-like nature of this vampire mythology. I wonder if Bram Stoker intended for werewolves and vampires to be the same thing in his novel? They are certainly compared and have similar powers and weaknesses, so it’s possible I guess.

Also Dracula has corpse-breath lol. Nasty.

I saw the first dim streak of the coming dawn. There seemed a strange stillness over everything; but as I listened I heard as if from down below in the valley the howling of many wolves.

Ah ha! Also the first foreshadowing we get for the importance of dawn and dusk in the novel, as we know later how important timing becomes for our protagonists, so seeing its affects already make me smile at the recognition of the signs so early.

"Listen to them—the children of the night. What music they make!" Seeing, I suppose, some expression in my face strange to him, he added:—

"Ah, sir, you dwellers in the city cannot enter into the feelings of the hunter."

And ah, an iconic line. Though I just get second hand angry and uncomfortable at Dracula’s insistence that he’s a “hunter” 🤢. God I just hate him haha.

I am all in a sea of wonders. I doubt; I fear; I think strange things, which I dare not confess to my own soul. God keep me, if only for the sake of those dear to me!

And literally Day 1 of being in the castle and Jonathan is already questioning his sanity and piecing things together he’s afraid to even voice in his journal. This is the second time in as many days he has already wished that those around him find this journal and laments should anything bad happen to him. It creates the impression of one who knows they’re walking into danger but must go on anyway.

But I love Jonathan so much, and I definitely really like the May 5th entry, and it does so much work to set up what happens later.

[themightyhumanbroom]

I personally enjoyed your portrayal of Shadow - I'm really tired of his fans acting like he's not allowed to have any flaws (heck, some even get mad when he's given any more silly traits) and it's really soured me on his character. Seeing a portrayal which explored his flaws in a way which still felt in character and kind to him was a good reminder of why I ever liked him in the first place.

Thank you so much for your kind words!

Shadow is admittedly a character I didn't like/understand for a while. But I started coming around when I realized he's one of my favorite character tropes, a living weapon trying to become a person and find their place in the world. These types of characters are fascinating to me because they are very flawed people who are trying their best to find themselves in whatever way they can manage. If you like that type of character but never want to see them stumble and fall every now and then, then you are missing the entire point of the character. The struggle to find their identity is the most compelling part, which also explains why I like Surge and Kit (also living weapons) so much as well. Everytime they grow as a person, even if it's just a little, feels like a massive victory and I never get tired of it.

[fanaticsnail]

EEEEEEEEEEEE I GET A SORDID ANALYSIS FOR THE BROOK FICCCC!!! YAAAAAAAY

So many good points - especially the guitar. Boney twangs of finger picking yes.

We both know Law would bet on your spider Marv, but Kid won't ever take that bet. He loves that spider too. Luffy would be a feral rat for the opportunity to get a glimpse of "the flashy fool". He loves his colours.

Thank you for your help with the lil kisses for the Skele-man. He needed them. Love you, Goddess. Thank you for your thoughts 😘🖤🖤🖤

Parts You Left Behind

Masterlist Here

Word Count: 7,300+

Synopsis: You are the ship’s counselor aboard the Polar Tang. Giving your captain the permission he desires to behave idiotically with the two Nakama captains, you give yourself permission to behave with similar unbridled stupidity. The Soul-King Brook has your romantic attention: you love his energy and decide to reciprocate his flirtations, no matter how crass and distasteful they come across.

Themes: Brook x f!reader, therapist!reader x nakama-musician!brook, skeleton kisses, cheek kisses, platonic kisses, romantic kisses, angst, fluff, crews being themselves, validating feelings, requited love, flirtatious dialogue, talks of panties, heart-pirate!reader

Notes: this was meant to be a small drabble. And the same thing happens every time I try writing a small drabble - we end up with a full fic. Apparently I have a lot of angst inside about the Heart-Pirates that needed to get out, and also skeleton kisses. Posted a day late for the Skele-man's bday. Thank you to @sordidmusings and @since-im-already-here for helping me with boney kisses.

Tag List: @sordidmusings @since-im-already-here @writingmysanity @feral-artistry @gingernut1314 @vespidphoenix @carrotsunshine @cinnbar-bun @i-am-vita @mfreedomstuff (sorry if you're all not into the skeleton. He needed some love)

The air shifted the weight of salt-forward air through the strands of fallen hair which whipped across your face. The docking of the three ships, joined together by ropes and beams, were thrust into the hull by a soft thump. Your crewmate Shachi instinctively reached for your forearm to steady himself on, gritting his teeth as he adjusted to the new altitude above deck.

“You alright there, big boy?” you cocked your head to the side as Shachi balanced himself on your forearm and the metal beam framing the deck. He hid his head from view, shooting you a swift gesture with his thumb to indicate his well being. You smiled at him, shifting his weight on your arm by weaving yourself beneath his shoulder. 

Rubbing soothing circles onto his back, you aided him in adjusting to the altitude difference, as he grew accustomed to life above the barrier of the oceanic waves. Being at lower altitude saved Shachi’s sea-sickness from the swell of waves, rocking his body and causing his stomach to lurch with every rise of the ocean surface. 

“I got you, sweety,” you cooed at your red-headed crewman, holding him steady as he holds back the rise of bile in his throat: refusing to open the floodgates to expel the contents of his stomach, “Take some deep breaths for me, hun. Big one in,” you breathed with him inwards for three seconds, holding it briefly, “And then out,” you exhaled with him.

“That’s it, sweetheart. Good job,” you praised him, feeling a shudder in his shoulders as he fought back the sickness in his stomach and mouth. You breathed with him a few more times, praising him on every inhale and exhale that he took with you. Once adjusting to the pattern of the swelling ocean, he turned to face you.

“It’s just hard, you know? Being under the water, then over it again,” he commented, leaning into your touch with his back arching beneath your palm, “It’s the rocking that does it for me. Just the constant rocking.”

“I dunno,” you shrugged beneath his shoulders with a bitten-back, downturned smile, “I don’t mind a bit of constant rocking from time to time.” 

Shachi expelled a roar of laughter accompanied with your own at your unbridled jest. He hooked his arm over your shoulder and teetered off into a light chuckle. You looked up at your crewmen beneath your shoulder and shot him a winning smile. He reflected the expression on your lips with one of his own. 

“There’s a few members of the Straw-Hat and Kid-Pirate crews, hun,” Shachi commented, gesturing to the ship that had docked with your own with the index finger of the hand around your shoulders, “Maybe you could find some constant rocking amongst a few of them.”

Your captain, Trafalgar Law, made you aware of all of the crew that served the Captain of the Thousand Sunny. The ever growing list of occupants never seemed to end: Captain Luffy, First-Mate Zoro, Navigator Nami, Marksman Usopp, Chef Sanji, Doctor Chopper, Archeologist Robin, Shipwright Franky, and finally, the Musician Brook. 

Your role as the counselor of the Heart-Pirates, executing your position with the utmost excellence, had you immediately drawn to advise your captain with the Nakama encounters with the Straw-Hat Crew. You knew a few members of the crew, the person you seemed to gravitate towards the most was Nico Robin. Her level-headed dimenure alongside her ability to balance the rapport of the crew was truly admirable.  

The other was the playful musician, Brook. The first time you met with the Straw-Hat “Brook,” you were truly ill-prepared for what was to come of it. Where a few people found his straightforward approach of flirting with the opposite sex repulsive, you found it quite endearing. When he performed his melodic compositions, you were entranced by his musicianship. You adored him, and would love to get to know him in the arena of flirtatious engagement. 

“We’ll see,” you smirked up at him, pressing a small, friendly kiss on your crewmate’s shoulder before you gave his waist a gentle squeeze, “How are we feeling, Shach?”

“A bit better,” he confirmed with a nod, looking over to the docked ship and their crewmen, “Just gotta focus on not locking my knees, and we’ll be all set.” He turned to look down at you, smirking with his eyes shrouded beneath his glasses. Leaning down, he pressed a small kiss on your forehead before breaking from the embrace. 

Shachi, Penguin and you were the closest amongst the Heart-Pirate crew. The seas were incredibly lonely, comfort being scantily found amongst one another aboard the crew. It started one night when the shifts were switching between the ‘am’ and ‘pm’ crews, your body reacting in its exhausted state within changeover.

“Nothing new to report here, just a small blip on the monitor indicating the arrival of a school of fish,” you yawned at Penguin, he nodded in understanding. 

“Alright then,” he confirmed, clapping a hand on your shoulder in his own dissociative and sleep-deprived state, “Get some rest. See you in a couple winks, honey.” You hummed in response, cupping his left cheek within your right hand and pulling his right cheek towards you.

“Night-night,” you uttered, pressing a small peck on his left cheek before turning to his redheaded shift-partner beside him, “Happy shift-watching,” you uttered, breaking contact with Penguin’s body before extending the height of your body by standing firmly on the tips of your toes. Grasping Shachi’s cheeks, you tilted his head to give him a gentle peck on his forehead before heading off to crew-quarters without any further explanation. 

After that moment, the three of you became as close as close friends could be. Jokes, playfulness and comradery were always openly expressed physically between the three of you. Should Captain Law make port, you would wingman for your special boys, just as they would absolutely reciprocate for you. Each time Law made a Nakama encounter, you would all be on the lookout for appropriate couplings for one another. 

“All crew: prepare to board,” your captain’s voice rang over the speakers with a soft crackle, “Reconvene aboard the Straw-Hat vessel. Counselor, to my side.”

Bowing a small nod and giving Shachi a final squeeze, you broke from your position within the arms of Shachi and made your journey to your position beside your captain. Both the Victoria Punk and the Polar Tang bound themselves against the Thousand Sunny: sandwiching the great lion figure between their own figureheads. 

Approaching your captain, you cupped your palm over his shoulder and gave it a small squeeze. He huffed out an acknowledgement of your name and title while he bowed his head. 

“You wanted to see me, Captain?” you asked him, stepping into his peripheral view. He continued to have his head bowed low, pursing his lips into a straight line. You furrowed your brows, sinking lower to get a better gauge on his emotions.

“I have a confession, Counselor,” he nodded, opening his eyes and looking above his descended brow, “And I need absolutely no judgment other than the highest level of professionalism.”

“Understood, Sir,” you smiled, releasing his shoulder and quarrying your own as a way of depicting your full attention, “You will always have my ears, along with my complete attention.” He sighed in gratitude, tilting his chin to elevate his eyes upwards. 

“Being with those two captains makes me-...” he paused with a light scoff in his tone, “...-make awful decisions. It’s as if I am no longer in control of myself: always doing something to prove how much of a man I am to not only them, but to myself.” 

Nodding along to his confession, you wordlessly agreed with all points he raised regarding himself. You relaxed your stance, opting to remain more compassionate and empathetic while you listen to your captain speak. As of this moment, your captain was only a man - and one that desired to verbally process with his therapeutic confidant: you. 

“I put our very lives at stake with this utter stupidity,” he continued, shaking his head at himself as he uttered his confessions to you, “All I seem to do is share a single, joint brain cell with those two morons each time we meet. There are no intelligible thoughts I can call my own, only competition and idiocy seem to remain.” 

After taking several moments pause, Trafalgar D Water-Law waited patiently for you to offer a countenance for his predicament. You suddenly allow a warm smile to begin its rise on your lips.

“May I ask what our purpose is with docking with the Thousand Sunny and the Victoria Punk?” you pose your question as simply as you can. He furrows his brows, clicking his tongue in thought.

“It’s a simple exchange of information,” he confirms with you, eyeing your face as you receive this knowledge, “And to determine if our alliance should remain valid in its longevity.” You hum in response, pursing your lips before allowing that warmth to return to your features once more.

“Then I would suggest leaning into the so-called stupidity, sir,” you shrug, scrunching your nose before looking to the hull of the Thousand Sunny. Cyborg-Franky was tying up the rigging to secure the Polar Tang in position to ensure it didn’t slip away in the swell of water with the dark-haired Nico Robin beside him.

“Excuse me?” Law expressed his concern with a low tone, “Lean into it?” You hum emphatically, returning your gaze to meet with your captain. You shrugged nonchalantly, cocking your head to the side to get a better gauge on the emotions of your captain.

“We’re not in any danger here, sir,” you relay your translation of his objective, “We have no threats posed to us, that is not at the hands of one another. I doubt the other two captains and their crew would make any attack on our vessel here, if we’re all in a similar predicament.” 

Law stands quietly, interlacing his hands behind his back as he mulls your words over in his head. He inhales a deep breath, closing his eyes with his brow deeply furrowed in the center of his forehead. 

“If I also may, sir,” you add, stepping closer to your captain, “You are only twenty-six years old. You are young,” you dip your head down to capture his gaze, his eyes now reopened, “And from what we’ve discussed in our prior sessions together: the opportunity to behave like a child in your youth was taken from you by illness and cruel, tyrannical hands. You never truly had an opportunity to be stupid, Captain.” His small gasp was barely audible, eyes widening at you giving him permission to behave childishly.

“Then what would you suggest, Counselor?” He questioned you a final time, floating his gaze with the utmost seriousness between your playful eyes. 

“Allow the crew of the Polar Tang to switch out of their uniforms, and let us all be stupid together,” you smile at your captain, extending your hand up to clasp his shoulder once more, “You deserve to be stupid amongst friends. Even if it’s just for a little while. If it matters, as one of the few members of your crew you trust with the rank and title to dismiss you from active duty-...”

Law’s eyes never left yours as you softened your playful expression

“...You have my permission to be stupid, sir,” you quip with a small wink, releasing his shoulder from within your grasp and turning back to make eye contact with the Thousand Sunny’s archeologist. You give her a small wave and a broad smile, with a final word to the gloomy man by your side, “But really, the person who’s permission you truly need is your own. Give yourself the luxury of behaving like, as you say, ‘a moron’ for a few moments. See what happens.”

With that final word, Law dismissed himself from his place standing beside you and hurriedly scurried below decks to, presumably, his office. In his sessions with you, he has worked through a few hard truths, all of which resulted in him taking a few moments in isolation to allow the truths to sink in. This appeared to be such a moment as this; which left you, in his absence, to be the welcoming committee to both the Straw-Hat and Kid-Pirate crews and their Captains.

As you walked over the wooden plank used as a makeshift bridge between the vessels, Nico Robin offered you her hand to stabilize your footing as you stepped down onto the deck. Her radiant smile elevated her features, mirrored within your own. 

“Counselor,” she addressed you with the smooth hum of her voice. 

“Archeologist,” you acknowledged her title with a soft nod in your welcome, “Are we reduced to titles now? Shall I address all of you in such a manner?” Luffy smiled at you, his pearly teeth shining beneath his upturned eyes. 

“Where’s Traffy at?” Luffy asked loudly, his voice carrying over to alert the red-headed captain at the other side of the deck, “He not with you?”

“Unfortunately not. My captain is not available to conduct the preliminary introductions of our crews presently,” you relayed your practiced response, “Is there anything I can do to make this first step more comfortable for you while we wait, Captain Luffy?” you asked before turning to the taller man rapidly approaching, “Or you, Captain Kid?” you finished your question with a low bow and awaited their responses. 

“Nah,” Luffy shrugged, clapping his hands behind his neck and offering you a tight-lipped smile, “Welcome aboard, Counselor. Tell your crew to get comfy, Sanji has made a whole heap of food for us all.” You rose from your deep stoop, smiling at Luffy before turning to Eustass Kid and awaiting his response. 

“Traffy sends his cute little counselor ahead of him to meet us, instead of showing his ugly mug up here,” Kid smirked, his lip paint cracking in the warmth of the sun, “Smart man, that captain of yours.” You chose to remain stoic at his unbridled, backhanded compliment of your captain. You extended your chin into the air, narrowing your eyes at the tall captain. 

“I would prefer all compliments coming my way be not at the expense of my captain’s intellect, nor his appearance,” you snarled, arching your brow at him, “If that would be all, Captain Kid.”

“Aye. That’s all, little mouse. Scurry on back to your duties,” he smirked down at you, his narrowed eyes training after you as you turned to direct your crew, now in common clothes, aboard the Thousand Sunny. They all seemed more than joyful at their captain’s lax behavior, depicting their personalities in their own styles rather than in boiler suits. The only member of the Heart-Pirate crew that remained in their uniform was yourself, eagerly awaiting for your captain’s dismissal so you could change into common clothes, yourself. 

You felt a presence behind you, your blood running cold as a shudder curled itself up from the base of your spine to the top of your skull. The small rattle of bones indicated the soul which stood behind you, a smile immediately tugging at the corners of your lips.

“Pardon me, miss,” the soft-spoken voice addressed you over your shoulder, “Would you mind terribly if I were to ask you what type of panties you were wearing?” Your tight-lipped grin did very little to stifle your teetered giggle at such an insanely, forward question from the familiar man behind you.

“Soul-King Brook,” you addressed him, turning to meet with the hollowed eyes of the skeletal form which stood before you. He was dressed in a purple, velvet suit, his hair curled and styled in a carefree, circular afro. The beads hanging from his skeletal neck shook and rattled against his exposed ribcage, the perfectly bleached bones secured with a black, leather belt. 

Eagerly awaiting your response, he pressed the tips of his fingers together in anticipation of your response to such an unhinged question. He could not remember if you were the type to yell, if you were the type to respond with violence, nor if you were the type to simply scoff and walk away from him. 

“If I were wearing any, I would absolutely inform you of the make and model,” you smirked up at him, before adding a soft wink with a further hushed utterance, “When I am dismissed from duty by my captain to change into more comfortable clothes, I would be more than happy to tell you the exact shade of the ensemble.” 

If you had never met this man in encounters prior, you would scoff if anyone ever attempted to convince you that skeletons could blush. But you did know him, and here he was: Brook, the Soul-King, the undead skeleton - blushing red at your words. The cracked cap above the crown of his head popped briefly, to which you almost thought you could see steam rise out of the hollow crevice. 

Nami, the straw-hat navigator, noticed the skeletal musician beside you seeming to have a small rush of energy pop out of his cranium. Immediately, she hastily walked to your side to ensure the skeletal man was behaving himself.

“I-If then, it wouldn’t be too much trouble, miss,” he stuttered over his words, tumbling through his teeth without anything to halt them, “Would you mind telling me if the carpet matches the drapes?” 

“Brook!” Nami scolded her crewmate with a loud reprimand, “You can’t just go around asking people if-.” You halted her words with a wave of your hand and an enthusiastic giggle.

“-It’s perfectly fine with me, Navigator,” you huffed a laugh at both his poorly held conversational skill, and the response his crewman welcomed him with, “I am more than capable of defending myself if I were ever uncomfortable, but I thank you for your valiance nonetheless.” From the corner of your peripheral, you notice Law’s presence aboard the Thousand Sunny. He gives you a curt nod before elevating his chin sharply to excuse you from active duty to change out of your uniform.

“If I may be excused, Nami, Brook,” you nodded to the two Nakama crew respectfully, which they both reciprocated. You turned and began to take a few steps, casually calling over your shoulder, “To answer your question, Musician: The last time I checked, I wasn’t bald up top.” 

The whistle of steam sprung into the air behind you, the rattles of the rotation of excited bones clinked together behind you with the familiar, unhinged laughter you had come to enjoy upon your meetings with the Straw-Hat crew. You couldn’t help but chuckle to yourself as you made your way back to the Polar Tang to redress yourself in more appropriate garb for the encounter. 

Brushing your shoulders against Shachi and Penguin as you began to go below deck, Penguin quickly grasped his hand over your wrist and halted your movement. You quickly snapped your head to him as he lent down towards you.

“You keen on the skeleton, honey?” he whispered his hushed question into your ear, “Need a wingman to set something up? We can be on the lookout for something, if you like.” You laugh at his questioning, shaking your head at his enthusiasm at the proposition of a romantic fling amongst the crews. Feeling the loosening of his grip over your wrist, you quickly pressed a small kiss against his cheek in gratitude. 

“I think I can manage on my own,” you confirmed with a small teetered laugh, “He is quite easy on the eyes, and I find his unbridled lust for the living flesh endearing.” Shachi joined you with your laughter, both quickly dismissing themselves from your presence as you hopped back on board of the ship you called home. 

Hollowed eyes tracked your every movement. From the grip on your wrist, to the kiss on a cheek, to the teetered giggle rising between the three of you. Brook didn’t truly understand how to feel in this moment: a woman of his dreams seemingly reciprocal of his flirtations being more than friendly with her own crewmen. Was this foreign emotion jealousy? 

He turned his head from your position, as your silhouette vanished below decks of the Polar Tang. He felt a warm hand tuck itself within his skeletal palm, giving his bones a gentle squeeze in support. Nico Robin offered Brook a smile alongside her affectionate touch, soothing over his scattering nerves. 

“She is friendly with those two, Brook,” she hummed up at his tall form, “You, of all people, understand how lonely it is on the seas. She’s blessed to have found friends to offer her a gentle touch and a friendly embrace from time to time.”

“That I do, Robin,” Brook confirmed softly, nodding to himself as he knit his thoughts together, “I just-...” he trailed off, his onyx hollows seeking out the former position you were atop the deck of the Polar Tang, “...I would never dream of ruining that, should I choose to entangle myself with her. She’s wonderful.” 

Robin’s gaze floats over to the two crewmen of the Polar Tang you had found a family with, both of which were focussed in deep, private conversation. Their eyes would float up to Brook, as their hushed whispers were scheming in hyper-focussed plotting. 

“Something tells me you won’t be ruining anything, Dear,” Robin chuckles before releasing Brook’s hand and giving him a small tap on his shoulder in encouragement. 

As you stripped out of your boiler-suit, you hastily made yourself more comfortable in clothes you rarely found yourself donning. You quickly made an appropriate arrangement of your favorite dress: cinched in the waist, accentuating your figure in a perfect hourglass and laid it out on your bed. Before you threw on a plain set of undergarments, your fingers halted on fabrics you had yet to have an opportunity to wear.

A small smile grew into a playful, mischievous grin, as your fingers looped over the lingerie: hastily drawing it up onto your body. You usually wore this garment if you were feeling particularly dull in your boilers uniform: something only for you to wear to make yourself feel more confident. You giggled as you hooked your thumbs over the bottom piece and pulled it up over your thighs to settle on your hips. Hooping your arms through the arm holes of the corseted bodice, you tightened the front of the piece to accentuate your breasts within the cups. 

You quickly took a moment to laugh at yourself at your own stupidity, before you reminded yourself: “If I gave the captain permission to allow himself a moment of idiocy, why should I not do the same? Where is the harm?” 

Throwing your dress over your head, you took a final glance at yourself in the mirror. Hastily adding a small amount of makeup to accentuate your features, you hurriedly made your way back up to the top deck of the Polar Tang while adjusting your laced ankle boots as you took lengthy strides.

As you made your way back aboard the Thousand Sunny, you truly took the time to notice the assortment of clothes your crewmen were finally allowed the luxury of expressing. You set an internal reminder to put forward a petition to allow the crew to dress casually at least once a month while serving aboard the Polar Tang. 

Your eyes quickly found the skeleton, sitting cross legged in front of a checkerboard with the archeologist of the Straw-Hat crew: both drinking jasmine tea and engaging in a game of chess. Approaching slowly, she gazed up at you and wordlessly complimented your chosen casual attire for the day. You gestured with your eyes whether it was an opportune moment to interrupt their game to claim the skeleton’s attention for a moment. She tilted her head with a warm smile, gesturing with her hands to go right ahead. 

Brook was confused briefly before he felt a hand press down on his shoulder. He quickly turned his face to glance down at the fingers perched on his right shoulder before his chin was claimed beneath the same warm grip. You tilted his face to gaze into his eyes, taking a moment for Brook’s mind to catch up to what his body was experiencing. You gazed through half-hooded lashes into the darkened recesses of his circular hollows, a playful smile drawn up on your lips. 

“Violet and pastel-lavender,” you uttered in a soothing, low voice, “Laced up with a gold ribbon in the front with a gold embellished trim around the hemline.” Brook would have lowered his eyebrows in deep thought, if he had any hair sprouting over his skull. He was confused as to what exactly you were relaying to him before he focussed on who was relaying the information. 

His spectral breath was taken from him, no further words were formed within his hollow cranium as steam began to exude from every open orifice. Your half-hooded eyes playfully toyed with him, as a feline would with their freshly caught rodent in their teeth. You held your eyes watching him squirm as you bit your smile back with your teeth, while Robin attempted to contain her chuckle at witnessing her crewman be the center of another’s romantic attention. 

“Y-Y-You-...” he choked on his words, the steam rapidly whistling and fuming throughout his skull, “...You’re w-wearing purple panties?” You giggled at his response, pressing your painted lips against the hollow surface where his nose was once located, leaving a perfect pursed circlet of affection painted on the bleached bones. 

“Of course I am,” you confirmed with a wink before pulling away from him, releasing him from your hands and beginning to rise from your stoop, “I had to match with my favorite musician.” You gestured to the velvet suit Brook was wearing, prompting his attention to briefly switch to his own clothes before snapping his head back up. His jaw hung comically slack, prompting a giggle to rise in your throat before you turned back to acknowledge the woman opposite to Brook.

“Apologies for my forwardness, Nico Robin,” you bowed your head in respect to the dark-haired woman before returning your attention back to Brook, “Soul-King,” you nodded your head to the musician before walking over to your captain. 

Sitting beside Trafalgar Law as he shared a single brain cell with the two Nakama captains was truly a sight to behold. You adored how he finally allowed himself to loosen the tight reins he held himself bound by, his playful stupidity was something you would’ve prescribed as his personal councilor. He needed a holiday, and he was finding one beside the two louder captains. 

As the food changed from the savories, to the sweets, to the cheeses and cured meats: you felt hollow eyes fixated upon your form. You were not swayed by the attention in the slightest, it was a welcomed change to your experience aboard the Polar Tang. You embraced the opportunity to express your femininity in a creative way, and it was a bonus that you managed to snag the attention of such a unique individual as-.

“Brookie!” Captain Luffy called over the ramblings of the crowd, “How’s about a song? Somethin’ from the heart while we enjoy being one big crew together?” 

His trance broken by the orders of his Captain, Brook snapped out of his bout of hypnotism as he made his way hurriedly to claim the first instrument set aside on the deck. The old guitar had water-swollen cracks in the base, but the strings were all new and freshly tuned. When he played music, he was in his own world: unaware of the life around him as he let the music carry his soul. 

As his skeletal fingers began plucking at the strings, his voice relayed a heartfelt melody that held you completely transfixed on his form. Both Shachi and Penguin snickered at your awestruck expression, nudging each other with their elbows as your breath was claimed from you. Law attempted to ask you a question over his shoulder, turning to face you as he didn’t hear a word or utterance of response from your direction.

Law's gaze floated over your starstruck expression, the music fully moving your soul was painted intricately on your face. Your eyes began to become glassy as the swell of Brook’s melody reverberated in your eardrums and shook you to your core.

He smirked at you, uncaring that his question remained unanswered. Your captain reached his hand down, claiming your palms and giving them a gentle squeeze as you remained unresponsive to the world around you. 

Nothing existed in this room: just you, and the skeletal man who was singing to every fibre of your very soul. You were entranced, bewitched, captivated and spellbound by his melody.

Brook in his time as a musician in his corporeal form was well renowned for his shanties and musical ensembles. Some of his melodies were taught to you as a child before you decided to embark on a life of piracy. 

Nothing could have prepared you to meet the man who influenced your childhood musicianship, especially one on the high seas between all the quarters of the continent. Nor did you ever picture yourself falling in love with him as he finally concluded his performance aboard his vessel, to which you were a welcomed guest aboard.

You were too stunned to offer applause in response to the song’s conclusion, the world suddenly jolting back into existence as calls for an encore were encouraged from the three crews. 

Brook’s spectral eyes were held in complete focus against your own, noticing the elevation in your heartbeat flooded to dust your cheeks in a warm flush. Your lips were parted, your eyes never leaving his as you blinked the world back into existence around you. Brook took a brief bow before he extended his boned hand out towards you, nodding to you in a gesture for you to take his hand and join him. 

Turning to your captain first, Law nodded his head to excuse you from your position beside him, you rose to your feet and stepped around from the positions the three crews scattered themselves atop the deck, reaching forward and taking Brook’s skeletal hand. He guided you over to the plush stool beneath the piano, taking a seat beside you as he began to perform a classical arrangement that required no vocals. 

Enthralled by the melody once more, your eyes focussed on the piano. The ebony and ivory keys dipped and rose beneath skilled fingers, the passion in the melody depicted with each crescendoed element. 

“Do you play any instruments?” Brook asked in a low, hushed tone beside you. You snapped out of your brief captivity and looked to his vacant hollows. The empty sockets held firm against your face, focussed on every subtle change in your expression. His fingers continued to clack at the smoothed tips of the keys as he awaited your answer. 

“Not since embarking on a life of piracy, much to the disdain of my heritage with my familial title,” you shrugged with a soft smile, his skull now holding your attention rather than the melody, “I did sing in my youth when I was in medical school, which was a long, long time ago.” 

“Not as long as my youth was. Of that, I am certain,” Brook jested with you, nudging you playfully with his shoulder, “And I bet you could still sing if given the appropriate circumstances.” You returned the gentle nudge with your bicep before lulling your head over the curvature of his firm shoulder.

“I highly doubt we would find ourselves in those rare circumstances, Bone-Daddy,” you snickered at him, enjoying the subtle hiccup in his tinkering atop the keys at the bestowal of such a title. 

“And if I were to ask you to sing with me, Liebchen?” he asked, briefly resting his head atop yours and nuzzling against you. His hair tickled your skin as he rested his undead body against yours. The rambunctious merriment aboard the vessel broke you away from Brook’s question, prompting you to raise your head from its position on his shoulder as you witnessed the stupidity your captain’s were involved in.

Each captain had managed to locate several bugs and beetles aboard the vessel, drawing a chalk circle on the wooden floor of the Thousand Sunny. It seemed that each captain had chosen a bug, beetle or arachnid: those creatures needing to touch the chalk ring of the circle the fastest to determine a clear winner amongst the Nakama.

Shaking your head with a warm, melodical chuckle at how much your captain was letting himself engage with the two other captains in their idiocy, you allowed the warmth to spread up to your cheeks. You were proud of your captain in his vulnerability to engage with them in this way.  

Brook concluded his piano concerto to the absence of applause now the attention was on the insects in front of the captains. You turned to Brook and gave him a soft round of kind applause with your hands, to which he bowed his head in response. Cheers and hollers were thrust into the air at the engagement of the insect race, prompting you both to shake your heads as your eyes remained fixed on Brook’s.

“Will you?” Brook asked once more, elevating his hand to capture your own beneath his, “Will you sing with me, Liebchen? Something small and familiar to you?” You sighed in response, upturning your brows and allowing a soft smile to elevate against your lips. He held onto hope, his hand giving yours a small squeeze in eager anticipation of your answer. 

“I would adore singing with you, Brook,” you sighed breathlessly, “Lead me in song, and I’ll follow the melody you set.” The skeletal man, should flesh be imagined on his features, would be beaming a broad and enthusiastic smile at your willing participation.

He reached within the opening of the piano, pulling out a small instrument with four strings and a rotating handle at the base. Several indented cogs and keys clacked at the sides beneath his skilled fingers, the music springing from the instrument sounded not so dissimilar to a violin with the dual tonality of piped bags. 

“This is a hurdy-gurdy, if you haven’t seen one of its make before,” he informed you with enthusiasm. You nodded down at the instrument as he performed with chords and melody over the clacking and winding, stringed instrument. 

“Do you know any melodies to this progression?” he asked as he played a few minor keys in sequence, “I know it would be somber, but I would love to hear you sing something like-.” His words were stolen from him as you began to lilt your voice in a familiar tune from your childhood. 

Although over time the lyrics in certain passages became lost to you, the intention was there with each skilled fluttery phrase. This melody was bittersweet and melancholy, the song depicting a foreign land where death and grief would no longer hold purchase over those who flee to its comfort. 

There was no mention of a lover, nor whisper of romance within the phrases - yet each lyric fleeing from your lips had the skeletal man falling deeper into the trenches of his adoration and admiration for you. As he learnt the melody and the repetition of the chorus, his voice joined your melody in harmony: skillfully floating in perfect pitch within the realms of your vocal skill. 

As the melody ceased, silence once again surrounded you: the world once again free of the colorful atmosphere you were painting with your song. You were in your own little world with the Soul-King, Brook, beside you. Barely comprehending your actions, you leant forward and brushed your painted lips against the bone occupying the space his lips once were. 

Drawing up the heels of your palms, you collected his cheekbones within them and held him firmly as you pressed several more, soft kisses against his boned lips. It was an unusual feeling, teeth where lips should be, bones where cheeks should be, cold aura of hollows where the fluttering eyelashes of a lover would belong. 

Breaking away your lips from his face, you gazed longingly into the dark sockets of his eyes. No word was spoken between you as you held your breath. He turned his face away from you, shaking his head lightly as if battling an internal argument with himself. Your brows triangulate upwards in the center of your forehead, eyes wide and innocent as you bite at your cheek nervously. Resolving his internal struggle with a huffed breath, he turned back towards you. 

Claiming both of your hands within his own, he gently squeezed at your digits. 

“I never, in all my days in this skeletal body, have longed to have lips as much as I do now,” he confessed in a dark whisper. You floated your eyes between the hollowed sockets, searching for further insight to his feelings.

His sorrow was depicted within his tone, his face remaining vacant at each uttered confession, “I have no flesh, no muscle, no organ: I am only bone. I have no heart, my soul is all that remains. I have nothing to offer you in this life-.” You had no choice but to break him out of his spiraling thoughts with your own argument.

“-All of those things are untrue, Brook. Aside from the physical attributes, don’t you dare reduce yourself to merely the parts you left behind,” you chastised him with your verbal warning. He was shocked at your passion, feeling the heat radiating off your body as you drew up further arguments to present to him.

“You have no lips? I am more than capable of allowing you to borrow mine,” you spoke with no hint of irony, nor jest within your tone, “No flesh, no muscle, nor organ? Those are just the tangible surroundings for the spirit within all of us. Are we not merely vessels for our souls to use as hosts?”

Brook remained speechless, hanging on your every word as the fire of your passion ignited your tongue with sparks and flashes. 

“You are only bone? No heart?” Your anger now truly evident on your features, “How dare you reduce yourself to less than all that you are,” you broke away his grip on your hands, and began to rise to your feet from the position beside him on the stool, “Your heart is your music, your soul is depicted in the care you have for your crew. I feel it, Brook.”

He cowered back against the piano, the hurdy gurdy dropping limply on the floor: discarded and abandoned. No crew spared the two of you a glance in your quarrel, choosing to remain solely fixated on the insect race, now turned into gladiator death-matches within the chalk circle.

Brook was in awe, watching your passion ignite in your eyes as you scold him with your words and bless him with your compliments. In all your encounters together: each time the Polar Tang met with the Thousand Sunny, he was entranced by your rapport and support for your crew. Your soothing words and answers to his unashamed lust presented to you had him blushing, but your attention now has him soaring with the reignition of his absent heartbeat. 

From your position now standing, you brushed off your dress and shook your head to rid the prior passion from elevating further. There were no regrets from offering him a kiss, not even the absence of his lips inhibited you from pressing your affection into his bones. At a huff of your breath, you lowered your tone to be in a kinder pitch, softening your features as you turned back towards the skeleton. 

“I will not stand for such self-degradation, especially with my occupation serving aboard the Polar Tang,” you extend your hand out to him, a soft smile slowly creeping up against your cheeks, “For what it’s worth, I adore you, Brook. I have always held you in the highest regard.” 

“The highest regard? Even with only the parts I’ve left behind?” he uttered his question barely above a whisper, seeking out further explanation within your orbs, “I am only a skeleton, afterall.” You sighed, rotating your neck atop your shoulders and stepped further towards him. Pressing a small kiss on his forehead, your lips lingered for a moment longer against his cranium before you simply walked away from him.  

Feeling truly no need to draw out an explanation for your dismissal of his question, you felt your heart break for the Soul King. You had already confessed your admiration for him, uplifted him with your words and then wordlessly expressed your affection for him with a soft kiss. The skeletal face now had several painted hoops from your pursed lips written on his bones, a memorial of love artistically indented into his absent skin. 

Staggering in his rigidity, a boney hand reached out for you as you attempted to retreat back towards your crew. His essence was screaming to unify with you, to lead you in more intentional touches against his corporeal form. 

“I-I’m sorry. I only meant-...” he circled his boney fingertips around your wrist and gently tugged you to return towards him, “...-I cannot kiss, nor embrace you, in the manner to which I desire most. The others aboard can give that which you seek, commit those acts with you. Why would you choose to engage in this way with me when there are so many others available to you?”

You exhaled slowly from your nose, turning to face the Soul-King. You stood between his parted knees, leaning down while seeking out his chin with your fingertips. Apprehensively cupping his jaw, you leant down to hold your lips a whiskers length away from his pearly teeth. 

“Because you’re who I want, Bone-Daddy,” you confessed down to him, smiling as you touched your forehead against his. He reveled in the warmth rolling from your body to his own, feeling your smile mirrored with his spirit. If he had eyelids, he would close them as you did your own within the arms of one another. 

Elevating his left hand, his slender fingers cupped your cheek and guided you in towards his skeletal mouth. Following his lead, you pressed your lips tenderly against the cool bones of his teeth, feeling the divots beneath your pursed flesh. He held your cheek against his face, tracing soothing circles over your wrist with the tips of his phalanges in his thumb. 

Cheers and an uproar of hooted hollers erupted from the three crews, tearing your attention away from one another as you witnessed an exchange of Berry from Shachi, Killer and Nami. The wagers the crews placed on the variety of small creatures in the gladiator ring were as freely given as the drinks concocted by the skilled hands of the Straw-Hat chef. 

Joining your laughs with your crews, you both held each other firmly engulfed within your arms. The Soul-King nestled his head between your breasts as you soothed your hands within his hair. After several moments remaining this way, you felt the tips of Brook’s fingers trailing curiously up your spine.

“Purple, you said?” he hummed coyly against your chest, his fingers brushing with the hem of the back of your dress, “Violet and lavender with a gold trim?” You chuckled warmly, feeling his head turn slightly in your embrace, his chin placed firmly between your breasts as he looked up at you with his jaw seeming to smile up at you.

“And corset-laced, gold ribboning in the cleavage,” you smiled, smoothing over his hair as you collected his cheek within the heel of your palm. You scrunch your nose at him, gazing through half-hooded lashes playfully down into the hollow abyss of his eye sockets.

“Would you like to see them?”

[thewhitefluffyhat]

Thought 1: In Harrow the Ninth, Harrow makes a giant skeleton to carry herself through a jungle.

Thought 2: The Ninth primarily consists of two things: elderly people and stairs. This is not typically a winning combination. Do other Niners also use skeletons to carry themselves around? Are there constructs programmed to act as mobility aids for non-necromancers?

Thought 3: The Ninth overcoming their financial woes by exporting skeleton assistive tech to the other Houses.

Thought 4: AU where Dulcie shows up at Canaan House in a skele-mech Harrow custom built using Cam and Pal’s schematics.

[cinderacequeen]

PAPÁ HÉCTOR IS THE BEST AND ERNESTO SUCKS CHORIZO

An essay by Lynn :3c

Bad THE WORST “great-great grandpa”: Ernesto- Shows Miguel off to other celebrities for more attention, not all that concerned about his deadline, no pun intended, even when Miguel tells him about the need to be home before sunset. 

Throws Miguel into a cenote to die to preserve his reputation and to keep him from blabbing about his murdering of his best friend, condemning him to spending his afterlife alone in a pit after Papá Héctor fades away and for history to repeat itself.

Just a second before realizing that Miguel was related to Papá Héctor, Ernesto looked very much like he was about to hurt Miguel again, cementing the fact that he had no qualms about hurting his own family just to save himself.

Had he not been distracted by this revelation or had Miguel’s family not been with him, Ernesto very well would have.

Good THE MOST EXCELLENT great-great grandpa: Papá Héctor: Is very well aware of their deadline but takes the time they have together to not only get Miguel to Ernesto to be sent home with his photo, but also to teach Miguel valuable and important lessons about not just music and family. 

Apologizes when Miguel catches him in his lie about getting backstage to Ernesto’s concert, provides the child with guidance and protection, and goes into Dad-Mode the second he noticed that Miguel ran off alone at Frida’s art studio. He also doesn’t sugarcoat the concept of the Final Death for Miguel, letting him directly know that death is just a part of life, even for the already dead citizens.

Provides Miguel with two endearing nicknames: chamaco and gordito.

Some might say the battle of the bands scene was unnecessary, but I think it’s just as important since Papá Héctor gives his first crucial pieces of advice to a very nervous Miguel, who had never played in front of an audience before. 

He teaches him how to shake off his nerves and to grito to capture attention and focus it on him, repeating these silently offstage when Miguel looks like he’s about to choke. And during their performance,  Papá Héctor continues to teach Miguel such as when he’s scaffolding him to do moves to spice it up:

Plus it’s the scene that has them really bonding with each other before things immediately went downhill.

alskdhf Miguel, I love you so much. 😭

He clearly can't shake himself quite the way Papá Héctor can, you know...because muscles and all that...but skele-dad's just like, "Yes, así! Very good, chamaco!"

When Miguel tosses his photo away and takes off, Papá Héctor was genuinely sorry for upsetting his chamaco was worried about him running off alone again, afraid he’d somehow get lost or hurt.

Even after their fight,  Papá Héctor is more than willing to set aside his anger at Miguel for lying to him to try to make things right again with him by softening his anger-as if saying that he doesn’t want them to part on bad terms since that night could have very well been the last time they saw each other-and getting onto Miguel’s eye-level to beg for a last chance at having his photo be sent back.

And Miguel was going to take it before Ernesto got a hold of it, which says that he also felt guilty for lying to Papá Héctor and calling him selfish.

After the Ernesto tosses Miguel into the sinkhole, Papá Héctor pulls a crying Miguel into a comforting hug, even when he still thinks Miguel is related to his murderer and has every right to be upset with him. He also cradles the boy’s cheek to comfort him even as he’s on the verge of his Final Death because he doesn’t like seeing a child-especially one of his own lineage-upset.

I'll never get over how supportive Papá Héctor is to Miguel or how much of a dad he was to him most of the night! 😭

[dndeed]

Crit Role Miniature Rollout: C3E37 From the Boughs

With Andrew Harshman

An archive and analysis of the minis used on CR.

Wooey what an epic tree! Very metal! -errr, I mean lumber, very lumber! But more on that later. Rad storytelling and mechanics on display in this episode / combat. How many times are they going to have to fight ol’ Delilah B anyway? She just won’t quit!

♬ When the bough breaks, the cradle will fall ♬ [dice roll] and take 5d6 damage, it’s time for Crit Role Miniature Rollout Campaign 3 Episode 37!

The List

Mats by Mars: Shattered Soil Tabletop Play Mat

Dwarven Forge Wildlands Set

Dwarven Forge Mountain Peak Pack

Dwarven Forge Mountain Elevation Pack

Dwarven Forge Wildlands Tree

Real Game FX Fog Monster Fog Machine

Hagglethorn Hollow Sundial

Campaign 3 Party Wizkids Sculpts

Warhammer Underworld Shadespire: The Sepulchral Guard skeletons

Monster Menagerie #07 Specter

Skeleton #45 Lords of Madness

Tomb of Annihilation Skeleton Key / Skeleton

Halloween tree decoration with custom clay sculpting

Excellent question @eldritch_DM thanks for soliciting this answer from Matthew Mercer. Wow, what a crafty dungeon master! Check out them trunk sculpting skills. 

Quite the improvement over the early Campaign 2 swamp troll stump (meaning no offense of course). As I said, a mighty epic tree! The Sun Tree deserves no less.

The Monsters/Villains

Delilah Monster Menagerie #07 Specter Mini image sourced from minisgallery.com

Why does spirit form Delilah look like Imogen’s hair? It’s as if when she lost her hair, it animated into a malevolent wig wraith. This Specter mini doesn’t photograph super well, but it has a certain pop to it in person. Decent miniature choice. But such an infamous villain is deserving of a more loft model imo. If/when Delilah returns, I would expect a custom model.

Skeletons Warhammer Sepulchral Guard skeletons

An interesting skeleton situation in this episode. We have two of the best in the biz appearing onscreen alongside some of the worst. The Warhammer Sepulchral Guards are metal af. Spectacular poses and cast fidelity. With the exception of Campaign 1 final form Vecna, it is a rare occasion that a Warhammer model appear on Critical Role. But here we are. What a delight. The downward swing skeleton is one of my all time fav skellies.

skele-poots Tomb of Annihilation Skeleton Key / Skeleton Mini image sourced from minisgallery.com

Gods awful. Garbage. I own these models, I don’t have the heart to throw them away, but I actively avoid using them on the tabletop. There are so many variations on this figure, what an absolutely waste of plastic.

Skelington Skeleton #45 Lords of Madness Mini image sourced from trollandtoad.com

There is a subtle brilliance to the posing and sculpting of this figure. A certain slackness, jerky, distinctly reanimated appearance to this pose. Also, the skull of this skeleton actually looks like a skull, unlike the skele-poots. This model also comes in an axe variant, which I think I might prefer, because, let’s face it, this sword looks busted. 

See ya next sesh!

#critroleminiaturerollout

[askcharaandfriends]

Why I do not like the idea of the Skele-Chara Redemption, by Goldy

(Warning: Some spoilers for other Undertale Fan Works below)

Hello, Goldy here. I just wanted to share my thoughts on something that's a part of AFAC, since... well, it's pretty easy to guess where ACAF will also head because of it.

Let it be stated first and foremost that this is something that’s been on my mind for years as I’ve kept up with AFAC. The goal of this analysis/rant is to get people to think about the issue at stake, and not to throw shade at anyone in particular. I am intrigued at the idea of evolving from one kind of being into another. It’s been explored a lot. What I don’t like is the idea of using that kind of transformation as a redemption.

The reason? The whole matter is unsettlingly reminiscent of eugenics in my eyes. I am aware that there are those in the fandom who do not see the matter that deeply, and believe me, I do understand the intrigue of the transformation. But please, hear me out.

Let us start with the “SOUL.” Undertale refers to the “culmination of a being” with this term in all-caps. We know it by other names; the spirit, the ego, the consciousness, the mind, the self, et cetera. Undertale tells us through its plot that SOULs are essentially people themselves in metaphysical form, as evidenced by all the times Flowey/Asriel got his hands on SOULs that weren’t his:

His death due to his SOUL clashing with Chara’s for bodily control

Photoshop Flowey being defeated due to relying on aid from the six Human SOULs he took

Asriel being defeated in his God-Form by literally calling out to all the SOULs he had trapped inside of him, making them remember their love for Frisk, and then using that love to remind Asriel of what love feels like

We can safely say that as far as Undertale is concerned, SOULs are people: essentially, as the personalities of people. Therefore, to forcefully change a SOUL in any way, by any amount, would essentially be changing one’s personality. It is not unlike the eugenic procedures of lobotomies and other forms of brainwashing.

Onto Skele-Chara. Returning once more to Undertale, the Game also goes out of its way to make clear that there are differences in strength and sprites between Human SOULs, and Monster SOULs. In order to be Human, one’s own SOUL needs to be a Human SOUL, and to be a Monster, one’s SOUL needs to be a Monster’s SOUL.

Chara in AFAC was human. They are now a Monster. This is not just a change of appearance. Their SOUL changed from being Human to being a Monster.

A change of the soul is a change of the personality. An artificially induced change, reminiscent of what defines eugenics. This is why I don’t like Skele-Chara’s Redemption, because it sends an unintended, inadvertent message that the only way for a person to be redeemed is by forcefully changing a person as opposed to going through a natural process of understanding their actions and wanting to change. I am not saying that Chara did not also want to change, and I know that as of writing this, any personality change has yet to be seen in the comic, but the fact of what a SOUL is- as defined by the game- and how it fundamentally works cannot be ignored. At least, I can’t. It’s not unlike a scientist who nitpicks sci-fi, only in this case, it’s philosophy. One does (arguably) not get more philosophical than the topic of the soul and its significance.

Forgetting that SOULs are people is an issue with the fandom at large. I believe that we tend to forget that because we empathize with the Monsters’ plight being trapped in the Underground. They have no choice but to see SOULs as a vital resource to their freedom without regarding their personhood, and as a result, the fandom also tends to adopt this view of the SOUL. It shows in various popular works: HawkerGary’s “Ask Drunk Chara” had Chara’s revival due to splitting Frisk’s SOUL- their being- in half, and using half of themselves for the revival process. TC-96’s Endertale does the same thing to revive Asriel. LynxGriffin’s bonus ending to Dogs of Future Past has seven human SOULs “donating” themselves to Flowey in order to turn him back into Asriel, while various other works have characters and askers alike donating SOULs to Flowey out of nowhere with no questions as to whom they are to or how they were obtained.

And I get why. Death is seen as a natural, sacred, part of life. Unless you work miracles, revivals are not supposed to be easy, or guaranteed to happen without a hitch. I myself am a proponent of reviving Chara and Asriel because it gives them a second chance to live the lives that were tragically taken from them, and to give proper closure to some of the remaining trauma the Dreemurr Family endured.

I will never be comfortable with the idea of the Skele-Chara redemption happening for the same ethical reasons involving the SOUL and the Self. But I still like the comic and the story it tells. It was one of the first Post-Pacifist stories I found when I was still new to the fandom. I’m still aware that as of writing this, we have not yet delved into all the implications of this transformation. If AFAC does end up doing this, I’ll consider it a good thing. If not, so be it. Everyone has at least one problem with their favorite stories. It’s a sign of how much they like them.

These are one man’s thoughts and opinions. To be clear, I am intrigued by transformations, I love redemptions, and I’m all for revivals when they are executed right. I just don’t like the idea of having to rely on the darker side of the sciences of thought to do so. What I want is for people to take a moment to stop and think about the implications of Souls as people. Thank you for your time.

[valkyrieofsmut]

I just wanna say I like your version of mutt best

Like everyone makes him seem like he's unwilling and subservient completely to his brother but you managed to make it so he still seems to have that role while actually being quite dominant, powerful, and protective

He actually seems more like HIM than like Red as some fics tend to do

And for the record, yes, Mutt is my favorite among the skele boys lol (bastard would be so damn smug bout it too if he knew lol)

Aww thanks!! 😁

I... I honestly don't know how to respond... But I appreciate the analysis! 💜💜😁😁

[cowtale-utau]

Doc Personality Analysis

Doc, or the Cowtale copy of Swapfell Purple Sans. As is prevalent with the Fell types, he has plenty of trauma to deal with. A violent upbringing and life that acted counter to his nature, conflict with and the near loss of his beloved brother. He's had a lot thrown at him. He's better off than some, and worse off than others, but he does try his best to adapt and grow while still staying true to himself. Let's get into how Cowtale has shaped him, shall we.

Much like several of his skeletal peers, Doc wants to be the center of attention. In his case however, it isn't admiration, adoration, awe or even fear he seeks. It's authority. He wants to be seen as the undisputed leader. He wants people to look to him, for both orders and guidance. He has a strategic mind, and  knows where everyone fits and what role they best suit. Doc is a natural leader, and he knows it. While he respects anyone who can stand “toe-to-toe” with him, he wants them to ultimately concede to his authority. It takes time, and a fair bit of sulking, for him to settle for anything less than top dog. As long as he is given an important role, he will eventually settle in and accept the status quo. He craves security over most anything else, and knowing he has a vital role, is in some way irreplaceable, helps with that.

Doc can be, at times, painfully insensitive. He makes demands, not requests, and sets impossibly high standards. He expects others to put forth the same effort he does, and often will not except excuses. Anything less than ones best performance is quickly met with his ire. That is not to say, however, that he is entirely heartless. Doc cares greatly for the people under his command, and knows a certain measure of compassion is needed to keep things working smoothly. If someone is genuinely incapable of a task, and not simply trying to shirk their duty, he will find them a new place for which they are better suited. He wants everyone and everything working efficiently and effectively. The emphasis however, is still on tasks over people, so despite the care he puts into placement, he can come off very cold and personally detached. It often seems the work is more important than the individuals, and depending on the individual, that may not be inaccurate.

A powerhouse in his own right, full of energy and driven, Doc has built himself an “untouchable” image, marking himself as somehow “separate” from everyone else. While he enjoys being a leader, he is also highly independent. He sets everyone to their tasks in their roles, and leaves. He expects everyone to perform their jobs to his standards, while he handles his own business. He often takes the tasks labeled as most important or delicate for himself. It's not about receiving credit, but rather that he doesn't trust others to perform to the standard he wants. He's a perfectionist, and often views himself as the most competent and capable. Doc is highly confident and self assured. Doubt is rarely if ever a thing he deals with, believing himself capable of dealing with anything the world may throw at him.

Despite being gregarious and out-spoken, a natural extrovert, he is surprisingly withdrawn. He doesn't trust, often keeping everyone at a distance, holding himself separate from “them”. People are duplicitous, and unpredictable. He socializes easily enough, in his own rough manner, but it's all surface level and detached. There are no deep or meaningful connections, and interactions are often shallow. Despite being blunt and often a bit harsh, and being known for having something of a temper, Doc actually has quite excellent emotional control. It takes quite a bit to get him truly riled. He may bluster and shout but rarely is there any true emotion backing these reactions. This is another way his detachment shows. He has no connection, no care for the people he interacts with, so there is no need for shows of genuine emotion. Why make displays of something that doesn't exist?

That isn't to say however, that Doc doesn't care for anyone. In fact, Doc loves with a deep desperation born of a fear of loss. While this once only extended to his brother, this circle has expanded to include the entire skele-clan. While he may not particularly like all of them, they are all family, and there is very little he would not do for them. He can be a bit of a mother-hen, albeit one that frequently pecks. He is the sort to push self-care, and see to everyone's health, but he is harsh and demanding about it. Healings often involve a lecture and days of sharp comments. He comes across as harsh, but truly he just wants everyone to be well and whole, and the thought of losing any one of them is terrifying. His natural reaction to fear is anger, so the snappishness is to be expected.

So here's some insights into who Doc is. Thoughts and opinions? Who next? See ya 'round!

[xnightingalegirlx]

So judging by the way yn tried to deal with dust's backstory and how careful she was it's most likely picked up behaviour and the only close contact that yn appears to have is may since she was the only person before the skeles and max to have been a part of her life and I believe that from what we heard about may is that she is kind social and will get work done when needed and I think she understands yn's fear to go outside but doesn't want her to wallow in it and she's likely is very patient

What a nice character analysis! QAQ it’s so detailed hhhhhhhhhhhh yes, indeed, reader is meant to be quite patient. That has a little relation with her backstory :)

[skeletonsloverockcandy]

The thing that kills me about the Oct 11th entry with Mina insisting that should she turn into a vampire, she wants the others to kill her, is not just that Jonathan does not promise to do that, but that the way we hear Seward describe the scene—Quincy promising first, Jonathan brokenly asking if he has to and hesitating, the way we know about Jonathan’s private holy vow to Mina in his journal—is that I wonder if Jonathan is drawing his line in the sand.

He’s already made up his mind about what he will do if Mina turns, and now with Mina making the suitor squad promise to kill her, I wonder if now his fear and intention has subtly shifted.

You can almost hear it in that scene as Seward is describing Jonathan’s body language, but as soon as Quincy steps up to make his vow, I can almost sense the shift radiating off Jonathan.

He now has to contend with not only Dracula, but if it comes down to it, also against everyone else there, because he cannot allow Mina to come to harm, by any hand, especially not his own.

I think he was re-evaluating his priorities and loyalties. Yes, he is friends with all these people and loves them and wants them to work together to defeat Dracula and save Mina, but now he has resolved to the fact that there is a possibility of a last stand of “us” (him and Mina) vs. “them” (suitor squad), even if it’s not what Mina wants, he would do anything to keep her safe.

And if you follow the subtext that Jonathan was bit too, he knows he’s on limited time as well at this point, if he even remembers being bit, but regardless would let Mina turn him if he didn’t remember. He knows killing her would not save him like she thinks it would, besides the fact that doing so would destroy him. He would rather be rest assured in the damnation of his own soul than have it utterly destroyed in the act of ending Mina’s life. I don’t think he could go on, and I think he would find it useless regardless, because he would rather die than kill Mina.

And he would rather harm everyone else than let anymore harm come to Mina, even if that means he has to cut down those nearest to him if it means saving her.

When he promised to himself to let himself become undead with her, he’s not only damning himself and Mina, but the whole of London and beyond. And if he’s willing to let the world burn for Mina, I’m willing to bet he’d let his friends burn too.

He now has an ulterior motive and while everyone else will be keeping a close eye on Mina, he will be keeping a close eye on everyone else, because he can no longer trust them not to follow through on their promise to her.

He doesn’t promise.

He won’t kill her.

And you’ll have to go through him if you want to try.

[flightfoot]

Misc. Trials of Apollo Masterpost repost

Like with the others, this is just a collecting ground for ToA content that didn’t quite fit in the other categories that I didn’t want to lose, and also like the others, I will keep the original version updated.

Apollo & Artemis quotes

Goddess Meg, Little Apollo, Mortal Zeus, and Skele-kittens

Trials of Apollo Song Recommendation and Analysis

I really love the ToA fandom

@favetta27 Made this excellent questionnaire post for ToA fans!

Here’s an invite to the “Trials of Apollo” server! A lot of discussion and fanart happens there now instead of on tumblr, so I recommend checking it out!    https://discord.gg/ACuHT5u

[undertaleimaginationland]

If the skeletons (UT/US/SF Bros) decide to do a serenade to their crush, what songs would they dedicate to SO? Otherwise, a song that makes remember to the boys their partner, or something like this. It can also be an instrumental song (without lyrics).

Ah yes, its time for some horrible musical analysis by yours truly. Also, I did this off my hc’s of their song interests.

Undertale Sans-

Lets Get It On- Marvin Gaye

Okay hear me out. Now I know this is an *ahem* less than appropriate song, but Sans is known for his odd displays of affection. The point of the song is not to get you into bed with him (though he would like that too), but it is to make you laugh while getting his point across. Sans’ slow and ‘erotic’ dance moves that accompany the music are less than sexy.

You will laugh and accept his love.

Paps-

Rock With You- Michael Jackson

What’s with the Tale! Bros and their sexual song playing?! Well, I guess Paps had to learn it from somewhere…Anywho, Paps has always had a soft spot for the king of pop. And the song is so calming and catchy that you can’t help but move along with his smooth movements. Oh yeah, did I forget to mention that he’s gonna dance for you?He looks like a cute little peacock trying to show off his moves. Please accept him. Underswap Blueberry-

Stand By Me- Ben E King (1961)

Despite the Magnificent Sans’ bravery, the underground he once lived in was a less than safe place. So when he got to the surface, he was elated. But when he met you, now that’s a different story. He had read the dating manual, but nothing had prepared him for this… tidal wave of longing.

Even if you reject him (you heartless monster), he still wants you near him. Even if its just as a friend.

Stretch-

Hello- Lionel Richie

Ah yes, meet Stretch, the closet (not really) hopeless romantic.You must’ve really caught his eye (socket?) in order for him to bust out this song. The song relates with his feelings oh so well; the nagging thoughts of you and being close to you make his soul flutter. With it’s calming and swaying melody, Stretch absolutely loves this song. Why not confess to his potential lover with something he loves? Love him or I will. Swapfell Blackberry-

Suavemente- Elvis Crespo

Oh stars, please don’t know Spanish. A big reason why he chose this song was to make sure you DIDN’T KNOW he was in love with you big tsunberry. But even if you didn’t know Spanish, there’s always Google translate and other internet sources. Please read the lyrics. He loves you.

Also, prepare for the most intense dance of your life.

Rus-

WARNING: CHEESY AF CONTENT COMING UP! LACTOSE INTOLERANTS TURN AWAY!!

For Once In My Life- Stevie Wonder

With Blackberry’s constant put-downs and abuse towards Rus, the poor skele can’t help but have a low self esteem. He keeps up this confident facade, but you can see through his excessive self depreciation that he truly means his words. So this song symbolizes much more than his love for you, it’s a sign of freedom.

Maybe with each other’s love, you can both find solace from the troubles of the world.

Oh god, I put my html skills to good use and lookie what we got here. A big mess.

[alphagodith]

this is a very good and simple analysis of the main skeles~

been way too long since i got this message, but in the end wanted to do a little simple old-styled talk-spriting to answer this one <3

they’re transparent - click to view ‘em in proper resolution!

was a little restricted by space, and my notes are a bit wordier on these, heheh… but this sums up what i think for the guys. also, the last two in order are Q - aka Quarantine Sans, by @joliemariella - and G!Sans because stars know i’ll never settle on a design for him, sigh…

also, i suggested that Q is actually an incredible electronic artist who has the best electro jams and bass drops to jolie, and it has been accepted as canon. stars bless her for putting up with my excitable headcanons.

[ryanimglv3-blog]

Completing My Little Big Planet 3 Game Analysis

Today In Carlie’s lesson I have managed to finish off the last part of my Little Big Planet game analysis.

In this analysis I played Little Big Planet 3 and after, gave my opinion and the positive as well as negative aspects of it. I also talked about the graphics as well as sound, and certain aspects such as the HUD - why I liked it or disliked it. As well as thought about my target audience, and if they would enjoy the game due to the assets and features the game includes, which would make the audience want to continue playing. An example of this would be things such as power-ups and un-lockables. If done correctly, these can be placed in order to make the player move around the map and explore, without even intending to do so... And this idea is usually planned and set in pre-production documents such as map blueprints. I did this because it is very important to analyse a variety of games, and pick out features as well as certain assets that you feel would operate well in your game as well as be suitable for your target audience. And since my project is to make a game, what better way to gain inspiration from other games that have been produced by professional companies in the industry today.

I did this by playing the game on the PS4 in Rachel’s group tutorial lesson, and each of us had the opportunity to play the game and get a feel for the mechanics and overall concept.

I have decided to not add power-ups into my game as I will have things such as weapons for the players to collect, which will be spaced around the map for them to locate and be lured towards as they will gain an advantage against the horde of skeles.

I feel like this change has actually been successful, and the play testers  - who are the same age rating for my game (16+) gave me feedback and agreed, as well as saying it would make more sense to have weapon pick-ups in a game such as Lil’ Tommy due to it making more sense in terms of realism, as soldiers in WW1 didn’t have power-ups floating around certain areas of the trenches for them to obtain.

I do believe this action has been positive and overall made a large difference towards the actual.

I have learnt that sometimes a change in a game isn’t exactly what you agree with, but it can be for the better and actually improve your game. Next lesson I will be working on my evaluation, as this document needs to be completed in order to pass this final unit. 

[skeletonsloverockcandy]

One thing I’m seeing on this re-read of Dracula Daily that I’m already really enjoying, it’s all the little details we didn’t catch before

When we first started we didn’t know who Jonathan Harker was and to us he was just a silly little British man who was ignoring the obvious warning signs, so there was a comedic element to the dramatic irony of him going to Castle Dracula

But now that we know who Jonathan is and we care about him, it hits much harder all the subtle horror elements we missed while focusing on this good friend telling us about his travels

From the first entry, people picking up on the dog barking under his window and being like “is that Dracula? Does it start this early?” Being skeeved out by Dracula’s overly familiar letter to Jonathan, which at first seemed perfectly reasonable except for the name attached at the end, and picking up on all the terrible foreshadowing for what will be Jonathan’s living hell over the next month in his Castle.

And people this time picking up on the bravery of the wife of the innkeeper who gave him a crucifix, begging him to stay or wait, to not go to the castle, of the terror of knowing that Dracula was in correspondence with her husband to get the letter to Jonathan and the sort of subtle threat they must be under at all times, of the significance of “for your mother’s sake” knowing what Dracula does to children. She is no longer perceived as a random background character, but an active player forced to be a bystander who is trying desperately to help this ignorant soul in any way she can even if she knows it might be useless.

I love people realizing Jonathan is skeptical and off-put, but not enough to deter his mission. He’s not oblivious, just making an effort to remain open-minded to the culture and superstitions and beliefs he is not familiar with, since he’s aware it will be wildly different from his own (to the best of his ability for being an Englishman from the 1890s) and pointedly dismissing the things that might be red flags as an attempt to rationalize because nothing truly concerning has happened yet to provoke him to leave, and he doesn’t want to be deterred by something he’s getting worked up for for no reason yet, he couldn’t do his job otherwise and people are depending on him

Idk, I just like this deeper analysis and thought now that people are already familiar and attached to his character, and now know what happens, so they can properly point out when something is foreshadowing later events or themes in the novel, and they can pick up on it quicker

Even something as simple as people noticing the other meals mentioned in the first entry because of all the focus on Paprika Hendl last year makes me happy :)

I like that they are giving our protagonist more credit now, knowing the character he turns into later in the novel (a badass)

It is satisfying :)))