It's a special day in Dracula!
Jonathan experiences a flashback to the Horrors, Mina experiences bisexuality in the wild, and the poor nameless Pretty Girl in Piccadilly rides out of the story, parcel in hand and chic cartwheel hat on, oblivious to the Count stalking after her. In honor of the anonymous young lady who proves for a third time that Dracula and Mina have literally the exact same taste—Jonathan, Lucy, random beauties on the street—I wanted to take a crack at giving her an identity.
But I am also indecisive as hell, so she can be one of a number of pretty persons of note. For example…
Miss Piccadilly #1: Clarimonde
My original favorite choice, if only because I love the idea of Clarimonde still cruising around after the heartbreak she left behind in her own story, “La Morte Amoureuse” (The Dead Woman in Love), aka “Clarimonde.” She is now and always the undead Parisian party queen of my heart, but I could see her traveling around to dabble in hedonism in other corners of the world. Naturally she has to go and catch the attention of the local aristos. Human or otherwise.
But, of course, she is psychic and can read Dracula like a bloodstained book. Keep walking, bat bastard. Her vampiric voluptuousness is reserved for VIPs. (Maybe that fetching mourning couple she saw gawking in the park…)
Miss Piccadilly #2: Helen Vaughan
Oh, Helen Vaughan, elegant hostess and demigoddess horror supreme. I don’t care what Arthur Machen says, your story did not end with the conclusion of The Great God Pan. You were life and death and human and beast and all the hideous realities in-between and a mortal end could never keep you down. Especially not when you have so many paramours left to entertain! So many secrets profane and maddening to share! One of these days you’ll catch one who won’t dissolve into madness and self-destruction after a little innocent eldritch chit-chat.
Like this charming Count here! Count? Count, where are you going? Count, she just wants you to meet her dad—why are you running? Why are you running?
Miss Piccadilly #3: Luna Blue
What’s this? An OC?
Well, of course. No one’s actually naming their child Luna Blue in the late 1800s; that’s just her professional pseudonym. It’s amazing how well the spiritualist movement can work out for a girl with a knack for shuffling painted cards or chatting with the night sky and the occasional planchette. She can even boast something more than showmanship behind her skill. The sort of ‘something’ that worried Transylvanians might whisper about in fear on a certain haunted date while a likewise worried solicitor breaks out the polyglot dictionary.
She recognizes Dracula for what he is as surely as he recognizes her. No, she is not interested, voivode. Even if she was, she’d be out a benefactor within—a hard look at him here; cold and far—oh dear. Scarcely more than a month. At least by her guess. But oh, there is good news in his future too! He shall cross paths with an old friend soon! How lovely. She’s certain these things are not connected. Don’t even worry about it.
Miss Piccadilly #4: Cosette Marchand
The fourth and final young lady in the roster is one more original character and she deserves absolutely none of the horror coming her way. This is Miss Cosette Marchand, an artist by hobby and profession. The parcel received from the jeweler’s was a commissioned necklace and earrings she designed herself. A glittering birthday gift for her mother who will chide her for such an extravagance, Cosy, she has no place to wear such things! But they are lovely…
She’s so lost in her daydreaming that she doesn’t realize the hansom behind her has been following the victoria since leaving Piccadilly Square. All the way home. Home, where there are no bloodletting suitors, no wise professors, no divine or diabolic powers to forestall the natural progression of things between predator and prey. There is only a nightmare waiting for her, unobstructed.
…By anything other than my own bleeding heart. I’m too attached. She has to make it.
So.
How does Miss Marchand’s story go?
Turns out, her mother has some experience in these matters. Her mother being one Laura Marchand, who left a thirsty terror of her own behind twenty years ago. One she has mourned as much as feared in the time between the love of a husband eaten by war and the sharper kisses of a girl far more than a friend or living being. She recognizes the sour reflection of Carmilla’s eagerness in the Thing pretending to be a nobleman at the door. She still has General Spielsdorf’s axe. She has kept the steel sharp. Tonight she will whet it sharper still, from dusk until dawn.
You see all that yellow in her dress. It’s recently become one of her favorite colors, owing to a most diverting play she happened to read. Such lush storytelling! What decadent inspiration! She simply had to design something fine in honor of it. She does hope her mother will appreciate the artful way the gold was wrought, twisting in echo of the Sign. A mother who has gone so strangely still since she happened to glance at the second act of the play. Still and cold. Perhaps she will be cheered by her gift and their guests. There is a nobleman at the door, Mother! And there, see, leaking from the yellow damask wall is His Tattered Majesty—oh. Where has their visitor gone? He shall miss the masquerade! Ah, well. His loss.
Scheherazade…2! In which Miss Marchand pulls a Jonathan by stalling via playing to charm and utility. She wears many hats beside the cartwheel when it comes to the arts. Portraiture, fashion in fabric and ornaments. Surely the Count can savor the spider-and-fly game a little longer for that and some pretty panicked smiles. Look how much patience and frustration he burned on Lucy! Yes, yes, a little while longer to draw things out, play at flirtation between artist and patron, isn’t this nice? Ha ha. (Please don’t drink me please don’t drink me please don’t drink me.)
Well. She got drinked. And maybe succumbed to death before the Count could get slain. But the bat bastard does get put down eventually and she still gets to pop back up! Good news: She’s not under the Count’s thrall! She can think and act for herself! Nice! Bad news: Vampire. At least she can drink her problems* away. (*Problems with names like Atherton, Wotton, Gray…)
Her neighbors are the other three Piccadilly girls. Dracula makes his way downtown, walking fast, walking faster—
Werewolf free space.
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You know, I think Killer getting reunited with his brother after his escape with Color would be really interesting, whether it goes well or horribly wrong.
If it goes well, it would be really interesting to see how Something New Paps deals with Killer not really being his brother (though I am of the idea that he'd love Killer for Killer as well. I just also think it would mean him grieving his brother yet again. This time knowing he'll never have his brother back). It would also be cool to see how he'd get along with the Epic Sanses. I also really would love to see explored what his tentative new dynamic with Killer might be, and how that may change Killer's dynamic with the others too (would he be less codependent with Color with Paps in the picture? Or would he just become dependent on both?).
If it goes horribly, well, it would be interesting to see exactly how horribly. Would Killer panic enough to kill him again? How would he react to that after so long? Would Killer even believe that that's his brother? Would he just deny everything and turn away and then be haunted by the possibilities forever?
I just hhhhhhhh. I've been thinking about them so much. I've never see content about them explored, ever, and the possibilities are giving me brainrot
Yes! This is the stuff I want to see with killer from this fandom. Not more of the same! Let me watch these doomed siblings suffer or heal. The angst having to grief the person you never knew you lost while they’re right in front of you, looking at you, looking through you—only it’s something else with your loved one’s face. Uncanny valley im telling you.
I personally think Papyrus will have a difficult time actually accepting that his brother is gone. Hed subconsciously see signs in Killer—same smile, same twist of the corner of the mouth even if the nature of the smile is different from when Sans told an awful pun, because now Killer is smiling like that when he tells horrible stories he seems to think aren’t horrific at all.
I think how this reunion unfolds definitely depends on the exact situation. If Killer is still trapped under Nightmare or not, or if Color has rescued him.
And if Papyrus has any memory of what Killer did to him and everyone else—because Killer did spend years upon years murdering and horrifically torturing Papyrus and all the others as if they were nothing more than toys.
Killer could look at him, and all Papyrus could see is that empty, dead eyed look as he screams and cries while Killer breaks his bones. As if Killer didn’t recognize who Papyrus was, and if he didn’t care who he was.
And Papyrus, how his reactions during those times could’ve affected Killer. He was in unimaginable pain, terror, and confusion. Hatred and anger and spite are understandable reactions. What are some things he might’ve said to Killer during these moments that stuck with Killer? Begging and pleading, cursing and screaming? Attempting to get Sans to “remember who he is”?
As the world Reset around Killer, did others eventually start changing too? Even if only in small easily missed ways, even if they forgot by the next Reset. Chara and Killer were always in search of something new, after all.
Could Killer trust himself at all around Papyrus? Or would he immediately start thinking about how he has killed him before, how Papyrus could be here for revenge or even worse—for Sans.
Would some part of Killer despise Papyrus for being weak enough to forgive him, just like he always did for the human? Would Killer feel the need to kill Papyrus again—believing it’s what it has to do to prevent something even worse (Stage 4), or perhaps out of panic as you mentioned, or even that anger at Papyrus or just the unimaginable confusion and stress and pain that Papyrus’ presence brings (Stage 3).
Would Papyrus’ presence disjoint Killer’s “placement” in time.
Would seeing him make Killer think he’s back in the Underground with Chara, and thus Papyrus is another enemy he has to deal with. Would he be unable to accept that the Papyrus in front of him is his Papyrus, or would he think it’s just one Papyrus out of a gazillion more, and therefore not worth wasting energy on?
I can definitely see Stage 1 being reluctant to actually be around Papyrus. Not because he hates him or is disgusted by his “weakness” and not even because he thinks he has to kill Papyrus—although he’s very aware that some parts of him very likely do think those things—not only because he can’t trust his own mind, his own desires, but also because he just..feels horrible around Papyrus.
He idealized this image of Papyrus and the life he thinks they used to have, but he has changed. He has done a lot of things. He couldn’t even accept a hug from Papyrus for very long without pushing him away in tears. I think he’d definitely benefit from having his brother back in his life, although I doubt it’d be a very frequent thing.
I can see many instances where guilt, fear, and shame just leads to him trying to “hide” from his emotions in Stage 2, which leads to the usual avoidance behaviors. Which may also lead to him subconsciously blaming Papyrus for being able to have any effect on him at all—given how Stage 2 views it when situations and people are able to make him “feel” anything. As if they are attempting to control him.
So many interesting possibilities—especially given how much Papyrus may know. How much knowledge is he working off?
{ @stellocchia }
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All alone with you
Fanwork about Lincoln and my MC Remus.
A lot of grammar problems(because English is not my first language) and ooc, my fault.
Title source: All Alone With You by Egoist.
"Lincoln." someone said in the room.
"I am here," Lincoln asked, "Want something?"
"Nothing," Lincoln's beloved said, "I just want to know you are still with me."
"Alright."
And then, Lincoln saw his singer smile and wave at him.
Good, again, that smile.
Lincoln walks to him and sits down.
If someone had acted like that before today, Lincoln might have felt a little bit strange but……the people who did this act were Lincoln's singer, star, and boyfriend. So Lincoln thought everything about the man in front of him seemed…… normal and cute.
Immediately after leaving the hospital, Remus checked into Lincoln's house, where he refused all contact with anyone connected to his past (except Lincoln) and just stayed in his room all day.
Other than the above, everything is normal.
Remus lived in Lincoln's house like a cheerful ghost, he'd scorch the pots when he was cooking, and he'd beg Lincoln to buy a game because it was on sale on his steam wishlist (even though Remus had the money to buy it).
It's just that he doesn't make any music anymore, and it's like the days of being the lead singer of a band never happened.
A lot of people will say "That is abnormal", but Lincoln is not.
For Lincoln, that's just one …… piece in the person of Remus, as a seeing every turn of a kaleidoscope, which is endearing no matter what it looks like.
Remus laughs very violently but rarely smiles now.
Contrary to when he used to be in the band, Remus used to smile a lot at that time because it was unobtrusive.
Remus dreaded every stare.
In one of the few interviews he was in the band, he once said: “It's a good thing I'm nearsighted, otherwise I can't have any way of fooling myself that ‘nobody's looking at me’".
Lincoln replays this interview again and again and then feels proud because Remus is not afraid of him. Even at that time the members of the band, including Remus himself, knew that Lincoln was Remus's fan (of the intimidating variety).
"Did you ever think of calling the police when I used to see you every time? "
When the first day of Remus moved into Lincoln's house, Lincoln joked.
Remus turns around and looks at him like he heard some unbelievable thing.
"No, never, "Remus told him, "Why do I have to? I mean……I know you put a huge attention on me but……"
Remus throws the thing that he holding away. His hands gestured idly in the air, trying to find the exact answer in these mysterious gestures, but he finally gave up.
"I don't know," Remus spoke frustrated, "Even though from the first time I met you the people around me have said that you are a bit strange ……I still feel you will never hurt me."
"You trust me?"
"I just believe my heart." Remus shrugged, “Even though a lot of the time it shouts so loud inside me because it's triggering some switch that shouldn't be triggered, it's fine to listen and see what it has to say once in a while, at least I can feel safe. ”
When Remus finished, he and Lincoln stared at each other silently for a moment.
"Any question?" After this moment, Remus tilted his head slightly to the left.
"No." Lincoln laughed and helped Remus put his baggage.
Lincoln's thoughts returned to this room in the present.
He changed the subject as if nothing had happened, "So what are we eating tonight?"
"Sichuan fish soup with pickled mustard greens, Dandan noodles, and Chili oil wontons." Remus began to say the food's name without hesitation.
"Can we just eat hotpot?"
“No way.” Remus vetoed, “Hot pot and this type of dish are both from Sichuan or Chongqing but they are not essentially the same thing, and I have to correct you on this erroneous idea that ‘all spicy Chinese food is related to hot pot’.”
“All right.”Lincoln stood up, "Want some drink?"
"Jasmine milk tea 80% sweet no ice large and without boba." There were no pauses, and someone used his lung capacity well.
"Maybe someday you'll try some new flavors of milk tea?"
"Yeah, maybe when this world is destroyed." Remus roll his eyes.
"Wanna come with me?"
Lincoln pretended to extend the invitation as if nothing had happened.
"No. I don't want to." Remus' handsome face scrunched up so fast.
Remus has never been out of the house since moving into the Lincoln home, except to see the psychiatrist.
The psychiatrist claims it's a "pathological isolation" and reminds Lincoln that he must help Remus out of this "rut," but Lincoln thinks it's okay that Remus doesn't want to leave the house.
At least he'll never leave me, Lincoln thought, and I don't think Remus doesn't realize he's self-isolating himself. The man who can write lyrics that can make people crazy emotion can't be so stupid that he doesn't realize what he's doing; he just needs time, even if the length of that time is a lifetime.
Lincoln stands up and leaves the room, Remus silently follows Lincoln out of the room before taking up position by the door to the room, he leans his full weight against the door frame and watches with his arms crossed over his chest as Lincoln begins to put on his shoes after picking up his car keys.
"Miss me?"
"No, my dear fan," Remus lied without changing his face, "I just wanna turn the drawing room's light off."
Lincoln shrugged, he knew what Remus looked like when he tried to lie, but he was happy to pretend he was being lied to.
He walks to the door, but Remus doesn't move.
Until Lincoln opens the door and wants to close it, through the crack in the door, Lincoln sees Remus quietly walk toward the switch to turn the light off, and immediately afterward he hears Remus say aloud, "Take care on the road. "
The door closed.
@pressplay-if I was going to post it anonymously but couldn't find it …… Anyway! (leaving Tumblr nervously, leaving my laptop nervously, leaving this internet nervously)
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was reading this: https://www.tumblr.com/fantasywater/761286441867313152/a-curiosity-about-stolass-love-for-blitz
and though I wouldn't word it entirely the same way as OP, they've got a point. we're supposed to think that Stolas has found a new lease on life after meeting Blitz, but from what we're shown on screen that isn't true at all and he's still the exact same person (if anything he's worse since he hasn't meaningfully changed at all and is in denial about all his own flaws and how he's hurt both Blitz and Via)
He's still drinking himself into blackouts and pretty obviously not taking his medication properly or regularly if he eats a fistful in one episode and runs out unexpectedly in another. He's still miserable most of the time. He can't make friends because he lacks the ability to form any real connections with anyone (or to be kind enough to make them want to put up with his self pitying behavior)
I tend to reflexively dislike comparisons between Blitz and Stella because it implies Blitz is abusive (which he's not, that's Stolas) but it's clear that Stolas responds to difficulties in his relationships with them in the exact same way. He self medicates with booze or pills, usually after either a serious self-pity session or snapping back at them, or both. He doesn't talk to them about their feelings, just grandstands about his own
And they are superficially similar. They respond to things that hurt them in a fiery way - they don't take shit lying down like Stolas does. As OP pointed out, Blitz struggles with illiteracy - the same thing Stolas mocked Stella for.
the only positive difference that I can see is that Stolas enjoys the sex with Blitzo a lot more than with Stella - and that's a benefit only Stolas is enjoying. we don't really have the evidence to say that Blitzo enjoys sex with Stolas more than he has any other partner he's had who was decent in bed - he responds to Stolas with revulsion, then disinterest, then resignation, then him being horny just because Stolas is convenient and they were having a meetup anyway, then finally anxious codependency and trauma bonding post break up. We never see genuine affection from him
this show doesn't seem to understand relationships need more than a functional sex life to work properly. because if you take that out of the equation, it just looks like Stolas hasn't escaped the pattern of conflict in his marriage at all
all he's done is replace a partner who is closer to his social standing with one who is far beneath it, in order to give himself all the power and leverage. and he does it without acknowledging that consciously or not, that is definitely the case.
the darkest possible reading here is that Stolas unconsciously wanted someone who was on the surface similar to Stella - less educated than him, will fight back and snap if provoked - so that he could recreate the relationship dynamic wherein he is the victim who isn't being given enough love even though he's trying oh-so-hard to make things work and they just aren't appreciating him enough. and it indicates a perpetuation of the cycles of abuse - if you take the reading that Stella didn't care about Stolas' feelings while they were trying to conceive, Stolas is now doing that exact thing to Blitzo during sex with a bucketload of classism on top
Got to say, Anon, it's spooky how plausible that darkest possible reading is. Whether Stolas does the things he does consciously or not, it's insane that anyone can look at all of this and not at least acknowledge the possibility that people might find it fucked up.
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so i know getting to the doctor is hard when your insurance plan is shitty and i know it's tricky to make sure there's enough money for emergencies *and* for fun things.
but like. my parents could have tried a little harder and maybe i wouldn't have suffered my whole life and could have known what life is like when i don't have to struggle and fight through all my body's signals that something is wrong.
Also apparently eczema is a result of an over-active allergy response in your body, because my immune system is either too good or is very bad at its job. either way.
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god i fucking hate my dad
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Favorite part about Death Note is that Light gets the Note and IMMEDIATELY becomes a serial killer fascist with a god complex.
No build-up, no Fall From Grace, no slow corruption of a good boy gradually becoming a monster. Just-- SPEED RUN STRATS. And I love that for him.
Tbh, I think there are a lot of folks (especially boys) from my high school days who would have immediately become monsters if given the power of life and death over every person around them.
It's kind of like how when people have apparently casual ableist beliefs, and you push them to elaborate on that just a little bit, they'll often end up openly saying stuff like "well, some people are just too disabled to be worth the resources it takes to support them." - Which is... eugenics. It's just eugenics, justified by the myth of scarcity. Now these folks almost certainly won't call it eugenics, or even think of it that way. But that doesn't make it NOT a core belief of the Nazis.
In a similar way, Light seems like a nice and well-adjusted boy with strong beliefs. No harm in that.
But to paraphrase Lindsay Ellis in her analysis of the Game of Thrones ending, "Power doesn't necessarily corrupt. Power reveals." [I think she was quoting someone else when she said this. It was someone who wrote a biography on LBJ. Whatever. Lindsay said it and she's smart as hell and I recommend her videos.]
And 15 minutes into the Death Note musical, I'm already thinking about how so many beliefs "casually" held by well-adjusted, nice people immediately reveal their monstrousness when talked through to their natural conclusion.
And I wonder how many of those people, given the power of life and death over everyone around them - the power to take their ideas to their natural conclusions - would also immediately reveal how their lack of self-reflection has laid the groundwork for them to become monsters.
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Soulmate AU in which when you touch your soulmate you swap bodies. It needs to be skin on skin contact and is instant. The only way to get back in the previous body is to touch again, otherwise you're stuck like that.
No matter the body all psychological and physical damage stays with you. That means if you get hurt then swap bodies, you will still feel it despite no longer having the wounds. This is only the case of existing wounds prior to swapping ; if new wounds happen to the hurt body after the swap you won't feel them, but the person in the body when it happens will. A very complicated way of saying that you can't get away from pain by swapping bodies with your soulmate as it will follow you.
There's no known consequences to not changing bodies back once swapped, though some might get sick for a few days after swapping back if they waited a long period of time to change back (say over a month, even longer depending on individual)
Now this but, you know... JeanMarco. And of course they find out during their time in the 104th Training Corps, because there's no way their skin didn't touch at least once in +3 years of training and being as close as they are. It isn't until break when they're able to visit home that they learn what it truly means ; up until that point they used it to swap chores (is the only reason why Jean didn't try to kill Eren during their shared chores- because it was actually Marco all along). At that point they knew each other perfectly.
Of course the whole situation was a little bit awkward for both of them when returning. They probably would end up avoiding each other for a bit because teenager boys and stuff, all until someone finally got the guts to mention the tension and ask them what's wrong- which forces them to talk and stuff. Doesn't matter, this is not what I want to talk about.
But the beautiful battle of Trost and what if, hypothetical speaking of course, they touch skin after Jean gets another ODM? And they're so used with each other by now, they don't even notice until the mission is nearly done anyway. And I don't know man, the idea of Jean dying while in Marco's body? Marco (in Jean's body) saying "I need to find Marco" once the mission is a success and research for his soulmate, just for him to not find him?? Not find him until 3 days later when some of them are assigned cleaning duty in Trost and he finds his own fucking body bitten in half???
The realization that it should've been Marco who died that day, but didn't because he was in Jean's body. The realization that not only his soulmate is dead, but he's stuck living his life. He's stuck living the life Jean can't because he died in Marco's place.
SEEING YOUR DEAD SOULMATE EVERYDAY WHEN YOU LOOK IN THE MIRROR. Poor Marco would most likely avoy any reflective surface for a very long time, unable to see Jean's face looking at him.
The guilt of lying to everyone, because how does one even begin to explain what's going on? Him lying to Jean's mother to protect her from the harsh truth of the reality- that her son actually died and the one in front of her was a fake.
And the sad truth is that no one would notice because they've been doing it for months already. They knew how to act like each other to perfection. Even if Marco slipped at some point no one would question it because they got many traits from each other already.
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I went back to sign these before posting and holy crap I did four of these within like 24 hours--
"It's like I'm not even a person, am I?"
"No I cannot let you pass, don't you MESS with ME."
"Just keep your mouth shut and your palm open, and you may just get FILTHY, STINKIN' RICH!"
"You can't quit, Emma. The song is so simple, we'll teach it to you!"
"Who will pray for you when your body's gone? This is the consequence for what you've done!"
Oh yeah I drew four of these in 2022, the prompt for drawing these was wanting to redraw these things haha, I was surprised how long ago they were when I went back to watermark them
Edit: changed the quotes so they sounded more cohesive lmao
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One day I'm going to finish my FFXVI mega essay, but for now I think my thoughts on the game can be summarized like this:
When making FFXVI, the developers sure knew what they wanted to do, and by god were they going to do it.
Were they also going to do other things that would make those first thing better? Were they going to do other things that make a good game overall? Ehhhhh...they were going to do what they wanted to do, and invest all their time and effort into that, so surely that would be enough! Surely!
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i've long understood why representation is important but i don't think I actually felt for myself how important it can be until reading loveless and watching Isaac's journey in heartstopper this year... My best friend is ace, but we have very different opinions/feelings/experiences/whatever when it comes to this. I have known about the aro/ace spectrums for so long. And yet knowing and actually seeing/reading someone go through a similiar experience resonates with you unlike anything else.
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today's Ant System nonsense is: waking up, going downstairs, and almost immeduately having to explain to our mum that her boyfriend is probably a system. we've been awake for 3 hours and most of that has been spent describing system experiences while our mum goes "oh my god he experiences that constantly" or "that explains so many things"
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My uncanny ability to accidentally specifically predict bad things now means that for the second time, a supervisor has told me to stop making predictions while at work since they keep coming true.
This has happened in two different jobs in two different fields now. Yay.
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also how is it that spanish love songs has such good merch??? i don't think I've ever been to a show before where I had to struggle so hard to pick just one thing, like in a lot of cases there's only really one thing that appeals to me or I just get something bc i love the band and need to have them on me regardless of what the design looks like. but i was spending ages just staring at the merch stand trying to pick one out of alllll the things i wanted
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I saw an astronaut walking on the side of the road today, which is the kind of thing my brain will placidly accept at first, only to go "Wait, an astronaut" a minute later once I'm done with my previous train of thought. By then I felt like it might be too late to stop my car, but I ended up stopping anyway because I didn't want to spend the rest of the afternoon wondering.
I waited for the astronaut to catch up with me since they were going in my direction, but they didn't. Eventually I got out of the car and retraced my steps, and after a bend in the road when I saw no one walking towards me I decided the visitor must have gone back to their spacecraft and I would never get an explanation for this—and then in the distance I caught a glimpse of the white space suit disappearing into the forest.
I managed to catch up with them and they turned out to be a distant neighbour of mine (let's call her M.), and what looked like a space suit when I was driving by was a beekeeper's outfit! (Sorry for the pointless suspense but I was taking you on the same little journey my brain went through.) M. was tickled when she learnt that I mistook her for an astronaut—she told me she'd borrowed her husband's too-big shoes which made her drag her feet, hence why she looked like she was having trouble readjusting to Earth's gravity.
Then she said that one of her hives had swarmed, and she was pretty sure she knew where the swarm was. I had no idea how swarming worked so as we walked in the woods she explained that when a hive becomes too crowded, the queen will get replaced by a new one, and the old queen will leave along with half of the bees. After this split, the swarm will cluster somewhere nearby and wait while scout bees fly away in search of a new hive location. "That's when you have to catch them—if you can find the swarm. But here it is!"
I wasn't expecting quite so many bees!! I'm pretty scared of all flying creatures so allow me to pat myself on the back for what came next—I thought I was about to learn how to catch a swarm from a prudent distance, but M. asked if I could give her a hand, seeing as her husband was supposed to be here to help but clearly wasn't.
The first step of catching a swarm was spraying the bees with sugar water, and I was glad not to be asked to help with that, as it seemed like something that could make bees angry. ("On the contrary, it makes them less agitated!" I was told, but that remained to be seen.) Step 2 was pulling on a rope tied to the tree branch in order to lower the swarm into the new hive, and that was the job I was recruited for. The rope was long enough that I could stand several metres away to pull on it, but my role in this swarm-catching business was still all too clear to any angry bee looking for someone to blame.
I remembered reading that bees can sense the electric field of flowers, so I thought there was no way they wouldn't sense the staticky nervousness coming from the rope-puller, but thankfully they completely ignored me.
M. was offering one fun fact about bees after the other, in a very relaxed voice, which was very interesting and very soothing for both me and the bees. She said this particular colony was very sweet ("some bee colonies are meaner than others?" "yes of course"), and that swarming usually happens a bit earlier in the year "but it's been raining so much lately, the bees had to postpone all their activities, just like us" and also "swarming involves quite a bit of planning ahead of time; for example worker bees have to put the queen on a diet so she won't be too fat to fly. Did you know that?" I did not!
Unfortunately our first attempt to catch the swarm failed. The bees entered the hive, had a quick look around their new home, then left in disgust and formed a thick, angry, buzzing cloud over our heads, while I tried to think nothing but bee-loving thoughts to make my electric field harmless and friendly.
Then one after the other all the bees returned to the exact same spot on the branch where we'd first found them. ("Because it smells like the queen" said M.) We examined the near-empty hive and found that a mouse had made a nest in there! She was no longer here but the traces of her passage were evident (some of the comb was very nibbled.)
As we were removing the supplies brought in by the mouse (sticks, hay), M.'s husband joined us and he had brought a spray bottle containing some sort of bee-attracting liquid (pheromones?) (I didn't have a close look at the bottle because I made sure to stay far away from the bee-attracting liquid, while he sprayed it inside the hive.)
He had also brought a white sheet which he spread under the tree, explaining that the bees will want to get away from the bright surface and look for darkness, thus hopefully getting inside the box. Another thing I learnt is that once the queen enters the hive, the nearest worker bees will spread the message by turning round and fluttering their wings to send a chemical signal in specific directions, which will be picked up by other bees farther away; at strategic intervals some bees will light the beacons of Gondor turn round and fan their wings to relay this scent-message until the entire colony is informed of the queen's new location.
We were more successful the second time around! This time the bees who went in didn't immediately get out again to return to their branch. Well I say "we" but I didn't volunteer to pull on the rope again, so I can't claim any role in this victory. But my personal victory was that I stood quite a bit nearer this time so I could watch everything closely, and I felt more intrigued than nervous. Bees were constantly zipping past me but it had become clear that my electric field was pure and they bore me no ill will. I was always fond of bees from afar and happy to see them do their thing in flowers in the spring, but today's adventure got me interested in their daily life as well, so I think I'll read some books about bees this summer!
I was reading last month about the morality of termite colonies (Maeterlinck's La vie des termites) and I had a feeling this man must have written some poetic stuff about bees as well—and he did. Here's a translated excerpt from his book "La vie des abeilles" :)
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Hm. Hmm. Hate to see someone you usually respect the opinion of have a bad take that could've stayed an opinion until they started throwing accusations at people that tried to have a discussion about it.
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