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♥Fluff Friday♥


I have long stretches of tedium while working, and I drew the twins. They're shaped liked potatoes (or kidney beans, but those sound gross) so I've been calling them the potato-twins. The comics are really dumb but they made me happy. :D My scanner is not working, so I had to take PHOTOS of these with a CRAPPY camera, thus I ask that you please excuse the spotty quality of the images.





This one is based on VERY RECENT EVENTS that may or may not have occurred in Paris. /ahem.


See if you can recognize which LJ users are in this one! :D




Annnnd a story! AND GUESS WHAT?! All of you have to deal with all the silly, corny puns because it's ~~~Fluff Friday~~~ >:3 Thank you to [livejournal.com profile] toastieghostie  for the beautiful banner (LOOK AT IT ) and the ridiculous title, which is perfect for my entire ridiculous Fluff Friday contribution!

Title: "Bee Mine"
Rating: G
Summary: Bill is not exactly a bee that the rest of the hive approves of, but he is a wonderful bee. Tom is a grumpy flower who does not get noticed by bees very often. It was meant to bee!







“I am a wonderful bee.”

This is something of which Bill had to remind himself every day. The queen had said so herself, the few times he had met her after his birth. Others tried to downplay her compliment, saying that she had so many children that anything exciting (like the oddity that was Bill) broke through the tedium of birthing hundreds of new children a day , but Bill knew it was true. He was a wonderful bee.

Part of this he knew was because he always found the best nectar, and brought back more than almost any other bee in the hive. Bill sometimes wondered if maybe that’s why the other bees didn’t like him, but that didn’t make much sense. The good of the hive was always the top priority and anything that helped was praised. And when Bill brought back especially good loads of nectar, he was more likely to be left alone.

So Bill was the first to leave in the morning, before light had even broke, to go searching for new, full flowers. It wasn’t hard – most flowers were quite delightful to be around and appreciated Bill’s efforts much more energetically than any bees at the hives.

“Oh, look at you, you little fuzzy thing, the sun isn’t even up!”

“I wasn’t expecting anyone to find me quite yet, I’m not exactly the biggest blossom around.”

“Oh, look at all the pollen sticking to you, what a dear! Go ahead, I have plenty of nectar ready for today.”

And so on. Part of it was that Bill did seem to have a good instinct for flowers that had the most nectar, even when they weren’t the showiest of all; in fact, that was a common mistake for which he looked down upon the other bees, because the showiest flowers were visited the most and had the least nectar. Bill understood better than the other bees that sometimes it was the less impressive creatures that were really the best in the end.

To clarify, Bill thought that he was a very impressive little bee. He was twice as fuzzy as other bees, and his lack of yellow stripes made him look very dramatic, he was sure. An all-black ball of fuzz: he definitely approved. But being different in a hive was probably not the greatest of ideas, not that Bill had a choice in the first place. He heard stories from older workers that when he had crawled out of his little cell in the honeycomb, three workers had scrambled over to try to remove the ‘problem’, but Bill had been too fast. Once he got away several times, they gave up, realizing that perhaps he wouldn’t be a complete burden upon the hive.

Still, Bill never really slept all that deeply, just in case.

And so, Bill woke first every morning and flew out right away, just a bare hint of blue glow to the horizon. He’d go to all of his best, most secret blossoms first because he couldn’t see that well in the dark, and bring back his first load of nectar by the time everyone else was waking up. Once it was light out, he’d go out to search for new blossoms, and when he found a huge bush or field of flowers, he’d go back to the hive and dance.

As with everything he did, the other bees did not like his dancing very much; they would buzz and flutter about, saying that his dancing was too bouncy, too twisty, too ridiculous, but Bill still felt very smug when they flew to his flowers anyway. His directions may be ridiculous, but they certainly followed them just fine and quite liked the nectar.

But what Bill loved most was when he had a really spectacular day for nectar, so much that that he had far surpassed what any other bee would bring in that day, and still had daylight left to go explore in a leisurely way. All bees explored – they had to, to find new, untouched flowers – but Bill always found the best things when he wasn’t stressed for nectar.

Once he found a crumbling building, though it was so gargantuan to him that he was mostly just guessing. It had a garden gone wild, roses and weeds creeping around each other and arguing endlessly. Roses argued like no other flower out there – only the hardiest of weeds could really stand them. Bill quite liked them both.

Bill also found many small ponds, which he quite liked – the animals at the pond wouldn’t eat him for his sting, but also weren’t so scared of him that they would shy away. Bill had met many a decent frog and fish from his exploring.

And it was during one of these bouts of exploration that he found Tom. He certainly hadn’t been looking for Tom though. Bill had been chasing a butterfly with very sparkly wings (he wondered if maybe he could get some of that iridescence for his own black fuzz) and as the butterfly had turned a corner, Bill had flown into a shrub. A grumpy shrub.

“Oof!” Bill fluttered his wings as he clung to a leaf on a stem, trying to re-orient himself. “I’m sorry!” Any bee would be embarrassed to have flown into something.

“Yeah, yeah, sure you’re sorry. Aren’t houseflies supposed to be able to fly?” Bill caught the irritated communication from the slight trembling of the plant, himself aghast at the plant’s words.

“I’m not a housefly, you stupid shrub, I’m a bee! And I apologized.” Bill was always polite, at first, but ages of living in a hive where he was despised had taught him to stand up for himself too. The plant seemed to shake a little indignantly at that.

“And I’m not a shrub, I’m a flower! And you look like a stupid housefly, and fly like one too!” It wasn’t very easy for flowers to be angry, or express it anyway, but a strong breeze blew at just the right time and Tom’s entire self, from root to stem to leaves all swayed ominously, almost throwing Bill off. Once the breeze died down, Bill flew off the leaf to take a better look at this shrub named Tom.

What he saw made Bill fly in loops for a few seconds, buzzing in surprise; Tom was indeed a flower, but a green flower. No wonder Bill hadn’t seen him – bees really needed the colours and stripes that almost glowed to see flowers easily, but Tom’s green colour made him blend in with everything else. But now that Bill could see him, Tom was really a lovely flower. So many full, healthy petals and a sturdy stem that would surely hold throughout winter, where other flowers wilted and became bulbs or even less.

Bill flew right up onto the flower petals itself, and Bill’s instinct was correct; all other bees and birds all missed Tom because of his strange green colour, and he was carrying a ridiculous amount of nectar. But he still seemed irritated, and Bill didn’t want to make Tom’s nectar go sour with embarrassment.

“You are a flower, and a really nice one! I’m sorry I didn’t notice you before, the green makes it difficult.” The words came out as a friendly flutter and buzz of his wings as he walked all over Tom’s petals. “What’s your name?”

“Tom.” A pause. “Oh sure, and you’ll take some nectar and go and that’ll be that.” Bill had never met a flower this grumpy, but then again, he’d also never met a green flower either. And then he buzzed happily.

“Nope! I will only take some pollen – I don’t need any nectar.” And he took the silence on Tom’s part as surprise and flew off with his pollen. He would definitely come by tomorrow. Only he knew about this green flower!

***

The next day, Bill was flying so fast, back and forth between flowers and the hive, he almost became dizzy. He wanted to bring in enough nectar that no one would notice that he would be gone for the rest of the day, but he wanted to go find his green flower – Tom – again.

However, he wanted to greet Tom properly, and the only way to really please a flower is to both take away some of their pollen and to bring them some new pollen at some point; it was the whole reason flowers were so helpful to bees. But Bill didn’t know of any other green flowers, so he searched around for a flower that was at least shaped like Tom.

He found a few, all shades of white and pink and everything in between. He only spent enough time to register their surprise that he didn’t bother with any nectar before he flew off in the direction he knew Tom would be.

Or where he thought Tom would be. He knew it would be difficult to find the green flower again, but he flew in circles for what felt like ages until-

“Oof!” Until Bill flew right into Tom, again. Once he righted himself, he did have the grace to be sheepish. “Uhh, I’m sorry…” Bill turned around several times, dropping off the pollen from the other flowers.

“You came back.” Flowers weren’t very expressive at all, but Bill took that as some surprise again.

“Yes. I am the best bee in our hive, and I’m probably the only one who could’ve found you again, so of course I came back!” Well, Bill only had a bit of grace; the sheepishness turned into smugness quite quickly. Bill fluttered his wings to try to fluff up his fuzz.

“Well, you are the only bee who’s ever stopped by before…” Tom’s whole plant trembled minutely, a kind of trembling that only bees and butterflies could really feel, and Bill felt bad for the little flower. Right then, he decided he was going to visit Tom, the only green flower ever, every single day.

And Bill did. Sometimes Tom was very grumpy, calling Bill a housefly and telling him to go find something gross to bother, but Bill never did. Bill also never took any of Tom’s nectar, just kept leaving and returning with pollen. The only exception to this was one very rainy day, when no bee dared to leave the hive. Bill hated days like those because the bees got bored and buzzed about him, trying to prod at his fuzz with their stingers.

The next day was barely drizzling, and Bill broke his routine because he wanted to see Tom first. The day before the rainstorm, Tom had been delighted to ask Bill a dozen questions about other flowers, bees, ponds, even flying - though his opinion of moving around all the time was very low. He was quite happy to stay right where he was.

“Tom! Tom!” Though Tom couldn’t answer very well over a distance, it at least gave him some warning before Bill flew right into his blossom with a thud.

“Bill! Are you okay? I thought you…you wouldn’t…” The flower didn’t seem very sure of what he thought at all, and Bill just buzzed and snuggled right in the part of Tom with the most pollen.

“I’m okay, it’s difficult to fly when it rains so hard.” Tom seemed confused by this, because rain was the absolute best thing ever to him, but if It was difficult for the stupid housefly, then that was fine.

“When you go back today, don’t take just pollen, okay?” The flower shook with an odd mix of stern grumpiness and embarrassment, and Bill wasn’t even sure what he was talking about until he caught a whiff of something sweet. He fluttered with surprise.

“Really, nectar? But…” But Bill didn’t want to share Tom’s nectar with anyone! It was a very unusual feeling for a bee; even with his frequent harassment, Bill almost never felt better than when he dropped nectar into the hive. Until he found a special green flower, that is. And he told Tom so (Bee’s were not very shy creatures). “Then everyone will take it instead. I don’t want them to take it.” Tom trembled in agreement, but Bill couldn’t think of a solution before it was time to fly back.

And it was on his flight back as Bill realized exactly what he could do. But it was crazy! But he could do it, and not worry about sharing nectar, and he wouldn’t have to be harassed or be away from Tom during rainstorms.

Bill could barely sleep that night from his excitement, still buzzing lightly as he dozed.

***

The next morning Bill skipped his routine again, though he did fly out before the sun rose. He flew in loops and circles and buzzed happily past his regular flowers, all the way to Tom. This time, he didn’t give Tom his usual warning; he just crash-landed straight into his fluffy, pollen-filled center. The whole flower swayed with the impact and Bill buzzed loudly in delight.

“Stupid housefly, what are you doing?” Bill only buzzed a little more, the name uttered by the plant with fondness rather than irritation – mostly, anyway.

“I figured out how I don’t have to share your nectar.” Bill finally stopped buzzing, because Tom might say no. Bill was proposing something very radical; flowers didn’t take radical change very well, and Tom especially didn’t like any change.

“Well, don’t be dumb, what is it?” Even Tom seemed a bit excited, petals trembling. Bill lifted his wings up to reveal the small bits of wax stuck to his back legs.

“I could…I could build a few honeycomb, right on your stem? And then I can stay here, maybe…maybe even for winter?” Winters didn’t get very cold around Bill’s hive, but they certainly got rainier, and a rainy winter meant not seeing Tom very often. Bill liked Tom about a hundred times more than he did the nicest bees in the hive.

Tom was quiet for a long time, which he did sometimes because flowers took their time when they were thinking (except for roses, who managed to argue even when they were thinking). Bill ended up doing a dance, pretending he was giving Tom directions to the pond, to entertain himself.

“Yes. You better build honeycomb here, because you can be a really stupid housefly and no one will come near a green flower, so you’ll be safe.” Bill flew circles around the brilliantly full petals of Tom’s, so happy he couldn’t keep still. Even from a distance, he could hear Tom’s grumpy-flower version of laughter.

And that was that.

***

It took a while to build up the few honeycomb – Bill built some extra pockets to store honey and to help keep him warm and dry, but in his center cell, a little patch of Tom’s stem stuck through so that Bill and Tom could still talk, even when Bill was hidden inside.

The chilly winter seasons came upon them and Tom’s blossom curled in on itself, dropping seeds everywhere but the stalk and roots remained sturdy. Throughout the winter, they talked about everything and Tom must’ve called Bill stupid a hundred times, though he seemed very impressed by everything Bill knew nonetheless.

In the spring, while Bill was helping Tom’s new blossom to unfurl from its tight early-spring confines (though his help was mostly commentary about how other flowers seemed to blossom, much to Tom’s ire) he flew a circle around the surrounding meadow, and received the shock of his life.

He flew a dozen circles until he came back and told Tom what he had found.

There were green flowers, everywhere.



----

All of you are my beta; tell me if you find any typos in the story? I probably missed some in my rush to get it posted. :3
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pookykabuki

February 2011

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