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Entry tags:
- character: arsène lupin iii,
- character: cecil harvey,
- character: cid pollendina,
- character: fenimore xelhes,
- character: grell sutcliffe,
- character: grune,
- character: haruhi suzumiya,
- character: kain highwind,
- character: king of baron,
- character: norma beatty,
- character: poland,
- character: rosa farrell,
- character: sophie coolidge,
- character: stella telmes,
- character: walter delques,
- genre: gen,
- media: axis powers hetalia,
- media: black butler,
- media: final fantasy iv,
- media: final fantasy iv: the after years,
- media: luceti,
- media: lupin iii,
- media: tales of legendia,
- media: the melancholy of haruhi suzumiya,
- rating: g
Lucetific - A fic written in slow motion
Title: Five Strange Ideas Grune Got Into Her Head (And What Fenimore Did To Get Them Out Again)
Fandom:![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
luceti, Tales of Legendia, Kuroshitsuji/Black Butler, The Melancholy of Haruhi Suzumiya, Axis Powers Hetalia, Lupin III, Final Fantasy IV, Final Fantasy IV: The After Years
Genre: Gen
Rating: G
Words: 2213
Disclaimer: I don't own the above fandoms.
Summary: When your housemate believes everything she's told, it can lead to some very, very weird conversations.
Author's Notes: I wrote this one over a period of more than half a year. Every single situation in the fic is a direct result from things people actually told Grune in the course of Luceti; I didn't make up a single one of them. At the rate things are going, I could probably write a sequel--Grune hears a lot of weird things--but it's not in my plans at the moment.
...At the moment.
Thanks to Yosie for typing this one for me--though I suppose he did have a good reason to be invested in it. :P
(1)
Fenimore looked up from tidying her room, hearing the front door close. That wasn't the sound that told her who had come home (unless it was a slam—then it was Walter in a bad mood); instead, it was the footsteps that came after. Normal light footsteps were Stella, a bouncy patter was Norma, brisk steps (or pounding) were Walter, and the slowest steps in the world were . . .
“Hi, Grune,” Fenimore called.
“Hello, Fenimore.”
Fenimore looked up as Grune wandered her way to the doorway of her room. Weirdly enough, she had her fingers spread in front of her and was studying them—not exactly intently, because it was Grune, but definitely closer than usual.
“What’s up?” Fenimore crossed the room and took a look. “Hey, that’s nice. Did someone do your nails for you?”
They actually looked pretty professional. Fenimore was no expert, but even she could see that the smooth, rounded edges and slight shine to her nail were the result of someone who knew what they were doing.
“Yes, Grell did,” Grune replied, and Fenimore attempted unsuccessfully to recall if she’d heard that name before. “Maybe she could do your nails, too.”
“Hmm . . . you think so?” Fenimore took a look at her own hands. It wasn’t exactly that her nails were in bad shape, but what with chores and Kyoshi training and all that, they weren’t in good shape either.
“Oh, yes, I’m sure she’d be happy to help,” Grune predictably assured her. “Grell says that a woman’s nails can be a part of her charms when they’re looked after.”
“Huh?” Hearing those words out of Grune’s mouth was . . . definitely a surreal experience. “. . . Don’t worry about that, Grune. You’ve got plenty of other charms. Like, uh” —your chest— “your smile.”
Grune beamed at her, immediately proving Fenimore right and then some. “Oh, thank you, Fenimore! That’s a very nice thing to say.”
“Don’t mention it.” She looked down at her nails again. “Are you sure your friend wouldn’t mind?”
It might not be a bad way to treat herself. . . . She could actually look forward to it.
(2)
The front door shut and Fenimore looked up. Oh. Grune was back. She was never particularly bothered by Grune’s wandering—she gave off a weirdly indestructible air—but even with the moon getting closer by the day and not looking particularly happy about it, Fenimore didn’t care one way or the other about where she was off to . . . or about anything at all, for that matter. Oh well.
“Fenimore?”
“In here,” she called and slipped her apple under her paper bag mask to take another bite.
Grune drifted into the kitchen, looking faintly puzzled. . . . More faintly puzzled than usual. “Fenimore, is my name Ambrosia?”
“. . . What? No.” Where had that come from?
“Oh. Haruhi said it was a better name for me than Grune.”
Weird. “Don’t mind her. Grune’s a great name. It’s very—you.”
Grune smiled in something like relief. “Thank you, Fenimore. Your name is very nice, too.”
“Thanks. And don’t mention it.”
(3)
When Fenimore came back from her walk with Sophie, it was to find the house filled with unfamiliar but delicious smells. For just a moment, depression crashed into her—it was almost as if Stella had come back —but she stomped on that feeling hard. It was probably just Norma experimenting.
After setting up Sophie with some toys in the living room, Fenimore headed for the kitchen. "Smells great—Grune?"
Wait a minute. Since when did she cook entire meals?
"Hello, Fenimore!" Grune pulled something . . . weird out of the stove.
"What are you making?"
"Polish food," Grune replied and added cheerfully, "It's because I'm Polish now."
"What?" Did she mean "polished" food? What was in those dishes, anyway?
"Polish food," Grune repeated more loudly and Fenimore cut her off.
"I got it the first time, but—what's a Polish?"
"It's something from Poland," Grune explained, which helped . . . not a lot. "I'm a Pole now."
Fenimore took a moment to just . . . look at her unfairly curvy friend. ". . . I think it's pretty safe to say you aren't, Grune."
"Oh, no, I am," Grune disagreed in that perpetually unruffled way of hers. "I'm going to do my best as a citizen from now on."
"You're a citizen now?" This was making even less sense than usual. "How?"
"Oh, Poland made me one. Would you like to be one, too?"
"I . . . your, uh, thing's burning," Fenimore recognized that unfortunately familiar acrid scent coming from the top of the oven. Then she gave her head a shake. "Where is Poland, anyway? And how can it make you a citizen when we're in Luceti?" Weren't there . . . special ceremonies or something for that sort of thing?
"Oh, he's very nice. He said I could become one of his citizens without any extra work," Grune answered, blissfully making no sense whatsoever.
Fenimore gave up. "Well, uh, have fun with that. Just don't forget you're from the Legacy, all right?"
"I won't," Grune said—not that Fenimore had a lot of faith in that. She paused. "Fenimore. . . ."
"Yeah?"
"What's 'dual citizenship'?"
(4)
There. Fenimore returned the jug of milk to the electric ice box and carried the glass to the table where a small plate of carrot sticks was waiting. Done.
"Sophie, wash up for your snack," she called into the living room, where she had left her to play under Grune's—not exactly watchful eye.
"Okay, Fen-Fen-chan!" Sophie chirped back, and headed for the bathroom.
. . . It took a great feat of willpower not to drop her head into her hands. She knew exactly who was responsible for that mangling of her name. Norma had started it off and then it had been followed up by. . . .
"Grune, can we talk?"
Grune was—actually remembering to put the blocks away? Wow. She looked up and, as always, gave her a sunny smile. "Yes, Fenimore-chan?"
She came within half a second of sighing. "Have you been talking with that weird guy again?"
Grune looked blank—and no wonder, given how many of her friends seemed to be really, really strange. "'Weird guy'?"
"Yeah, the guy who took Sophie's peepit." . . . And their panties. Experiment or not, she wasn't going to forget that in a hurry.
Her expression cleared. "Oh, Arsène."
"Yeah, him." At least she wasn't calling him Arsène-chan. Probably because he asked her not to.
"Yes, that's right. He's very nice," Grune said with great predictability.
"I wouldn't go that far," she muttered, then said louder, "Was he calling you Grune-chan again?"
Grune nodded. "He said it sounds cuter."
Fenimore took a moment to check—yes, Sophie had found her snack all right. "Right. Listen, adding 'chan' to the end of names is just something for him, okay? It's not something you need to do." And it was definitely not something Sophie needed to be taught.
"It isn't?"
"It isn't. It's like. . . ." Idea! "You know how Norma is the only one who calls you 'G-Girl'? It's like that."
Fenimore smiled as she saw a look of understanding appear on Grune's face. Victory was—
"So I shouldn't even use it for Sophie-chan?"
. . . Almost hers. "Not even for Sophie."
"But she's very cute."
"She is," Fenimore acknowledged, "but you can probably find your own way to show it, all right?"
"All right." Grune considered that. ". . . Fifi?"
Fenimore sighed. At least she was used to that one. "Ask Sophie what she thinks."
"Okay, Fen-Fen!" Grune agreed and wandered off.
Great.
(5)
Another day, another round of collecting dishes from Grune’s room. This time of year wasn’t so bad— there weren't all that many flowers blooming yet—but in the middle of the summer, Grune could empty a cupboard in an afternoon.
Okay, Fenimore acknowledged, she probably wasn't that bad, but some days it sure felt like it.
She knocked on Grune's half-opened door (part of her leading-by-example training to stop Grune from any unfortunate wandering) and called out, "Grune?"
". . . Hello, Fenimore."
"Can I come in?" she asked—and only then did she register what a comparatively lackluster reply she'd gotten.
"Oh, yes, of course," Grune answered, and so in Fenimore went.
Grune was sitting on her bed; open in her lap was a scrapbook Fenimore hadn't recalled seeing before. She did a quick scan for dishes—none, good—then came to sit down beside her.
"What's that?" she asked, taking a look at . . . what did you even call a house that big? A mansion? Even that didn't seem to cut it. That place looked huge. . . . And why had Grune drawn two moons, anyway?
She'd probably forgotten she'd drawn one already, she decided. That was usually the best explanation when it came to the weird stuff her housemate did.
"That's Baron Castle," Grune answered as Fenimore came to her conclusion. (Castle, right, that was the word.)
She turned the page. Next was a picture of three children, probably around eight or nine. Fenimore didn't recognize the blond boy and girl, but the middle child, his hair coloured with sparkly silver crayon, looked familiar. Even in Luceti, there weren't a lot of people with weird hair like that.
She got up from the bed and scanned the walls until—there. Another picture with the same silver crayon, this time of a man probably in his late twenties. There were quite a few of them, actually, and if she thought about it, she could recall him visiting the house a few times. . . . She couldn't remember his name, though.
She turned back to see Grune looking down at the picture, her fingertips resting gently on its surface.
She sighed.
"Grune, that experiment wasn't real," she told her. "You know that, right?"
Grune nodded. "I know."
"Good."
For a moment, she stood there awkwardly. Then she joined Grune on the bed again. "It was probably pretty nice for you—not that you ever have a bad time during these things," she couldn't help but add. ". . . You had a family in Baron, right?"
"Yes, that's right." Grune gave a little sigh. "There was Cecil and Rosa and Kain—and the king and Cid, too. It was very nice."
King? Uh . . . okay. "I'm sure it was," Fenimore said. She hesitated. "But . . . you already have a home and a family, you know. A real one. So don't forget it, all right?"
A smile appeared on Grune's face, and—okay, maybe she was a little relieved to see it there. A little. "I won't." As expected, she leaned over to give her a sideways, seated hug. "Thank you, Fenimore."
Fenimore let her and tried to ignore the heat in her cheeks. "You're welcome."
And then, for just a second, she hugged her back. Immediately after, though, she untangled herself and got to her feet.
"Supper is in half an hour," she told her. "Don't forget."
"I won't," Grune answered lightly, sounding a lot more like her usual self.
"We'll see about that," Fenimore said under her breath and headed out.
The last she saw as she reached to close over the door behind her was Grune shutting the scrapbook and standing to put it away. She could only be grateful no one else was around to see the relieved smile that, just for a moment, appeared on her face.
(Omake)
"Don't worry, Fenimore," Grune assured her as she tugged her along. "Grell won't mind doing your nails, too. She said she likes it."
"Well . . . all right," Fenimore replied.
She still wasn't completely sure she should be going along with this, but . . . her nails had been looking a little ragged lately, and this friend of Grune's—whoever she was—had done a pretty nice job. She'd just see if she really didn't mind, the way Grune said.
Finding the woman in question turned out to be not exactly hard. Grune's target was still seated at the fountain, looking very bored, very tall, and very red.
Grune's permanent smile grew and, once they were close enough, she called out, "Hello, Grell!"
Grell looked up. "Hello, dear. Back so soon? You didn't chip a nail, did you?"
Wait. Were those . . . ?
"Oh, no," Grune assured her. "My nails still look very pretty. Do you think you could do Fenimore's, too?"
"Of course. It isn't as though there's much else to do in this horrid place." Grell turned to Fenimore and smiled. "Aren’t you cute? Here, hold out your hand so I can see your colours."
. . . Shark teeth.
"Never mind!" Fenimore managed. "Come on, Grune, let's get some, um, cake."
She set off at the fastest walk she could pull off without outright running, Grune's confused "All right, Fenimore" drifting after her.
Given the choice between plain nails and getting a manicure from a shark, she'd pick the boring option any day.
Fandom:
luceti, Tales of Legendia, Kuroshitsuji/Black Butler, The Melancholy of Haruhi Suzumiya, Axis Powers Hetalia, Lupin III, Final Fantasy IV, Final Fantasy IV: The After YearsGenre: Gen
Rating: G
Words: 2213
Disclaimer: I don't own the above fandoms.
Summary: When your housemate believes everything she's told, it can lead to some very, very weird conversations.
Author's Notes: I wrote this one over a period of more than half a year. Every single situation in the fic is a direct result from things people actually told Grune in the course of Luceti; I didn't make up a single one of them. At the rate things are going, I could probably write a sequel--Grune hears a lot of weird things--but it's not in my plans at the moment.
...At the moment.
Thanks to Yosie for typing this one for me--though I suppose he did have a good reason to be invested in it. :P
Fenimore looked up from tidying her room, hearing the front door close. That wasn't the sound that told her who had come home (unless it was a slam—then it was Walter in a bad mood); instead, it was the footsteps that came after. Normal light footsteps were Stella, a bouncy patter was Norma, brisk steps (or pounding) were Walter, and the slowest steps in the world were . . .
“Hi, Grune,” Fenimore called.
“Hello, Fenimore.”
Fenimore looked up as Grune wandered her way to the doorway of her room. Weirdly enough, she had her fingers spread in front of her and was studying them—not exactly intently, because it was Grune, but definitely closer than usual.
“What’s up?” Fenimore crossed the room and took a look. “Hey, that’s nice. Did someone do your nails for you?”
They actually looked pretty professional. Fenimore was no expert, but even she could see that the smooth, rounded edges and slight shine to her nail were the result of someone who knew what they were doing.
“Yes, Grell did,” Grune replied, and Fenimore attempted unsuccessfully to recall if she’d heard that name before. “Maybe she could do your nails, too.”
“Hmm . . . you think so?” Fenimore took a look at her own hands. It wasn’t exactly that her nails were in bad shape, but what with chores and Kyoshi training and all that, they weren’t in good shape either.
“Oh, yes, I’m sure she’d be happy to help,” Grune predictably assured her. “Grell says that a woman’s nails can be a part of her charms when they’re looked after.”
“Huh?” Hearing those words out of Grune’s mouth was . . . definitely a surreal experience. “. . . Don’t worry about that, Grune. You’ve got plenty of other charms. Like, uh” —your chest— “your smile.”
Grune beamed at her, immediately proving Fenimore right and then some. “Oh, thank you, Fenimore! That’s a very nice thing to say.”
“Don’t mention it.” She looked down at her nails again. “Are you sure your friend wouldn’t mind?”
It might not be a bad way to treat herself. . . . She could actually look forward to it.
The front door shut and Fenimore looked up. Oh. Grune was back. She was never particularly bothered by Grune’s wandering—she gave off a weirdly indestructible air—but even with the moon getting closer by the day and not looking particularly happy about it, Fenimore didn’t care one way or the other about where she was off to . . . or about anything at all, for that matter. Oh well.
“Fenimore?”
“In here,” she called and slipped her apple under her paper bag mask to take another bite.
Grune drifted into the kitchen, looking faintly puzzled. . . . More faintly puzzled than usual. “Fenimore, is my name Ambrosia?”
“. . . What? No.” Where had that come from?
“Oh. Haruhi said it was a better name for me than Grune.”
Weird. “Don’t mind her. Grune’s a great name. It’s very—you.”
Grune smiled in something like relief. “Thank you, Fenimore. Your name is very nice, too.”
“Thanks. And don’t mention it.”
When Fenimore came back from her walk with Sophie, it was to find the house filled with unfamiliar but delicious smells. For just a moment, depression crashed into her—it was almost as if Stella had come back —but she stomped on that feeling hard. It was probably just Norma experimenting.
After setting up Sophie with some toys in the living room, Fenimore headed for the kitchen. "Smells great—Grune?"
Wait a minute. Since when did she cook entire meals?
"Hello, Fenimore!" Grune pulled something . . . weird out of the stove.
"What are you making?"
"Polish food," Grune replied and added cheerfully, "It's because I'm Polish now."
"What?" Did she mean "polished" food? What was in those dishes, anyway?
"Polish food," Grune repeated more loudly and Fenimore cut her off.
"I got it the first time, but—what's a Polish?"
"It's something from Poland," Grune explained, which helped . . . not a lot. "I'm a Pole now."
Fenimore took a moment to just . . . look at her unfairly curvy friend. ". . . I think it's pretty safe to say you aren't, Grune."
"Oh, no, I am," Grune disagreed in that perpetually unruffled way of hers. "I'm going to do my best as a citizen from now on."
"You're a citizen now?" This was making even less sense than usual. "How?"
"Oh, Poland made me one. Would you like to be one, too?"
"I . . . your, uh, thing's burning," Fenimore recognized that unfortunately familiar acrid scent coming from the top of the oven. Then she gave her head a shake. "Where is Poland, anyway? And how can it make you a citizen when we're in Luceti?" Weren't there . . . special ceremonies or something for that sort of thing?
"Oh, he's very nice. He said I could become one of his citizens without any extra work," Grune answered, blissfully making no sense whatsoever.
Fenimore gave up. "Well, uh, have fun with that. Just don't forget you're from the Legacy, all right?"
"I won't," Grune said—not that Fenimore had a lot of faith in that. She paused. "Fenimore. . . ."
"Yeah?"
"What's 'dual citizenship'?"
There. Fenimore returned the jug of milk to the electric ice box and carried the glass to the table where a small plate of carrot sticks was waiting. Done.
"Sophie, wash up for your snack," she called into the living room, where she had left her to play under Grune's—not exactly watchful eye.
"Okay, Fen-Fen-chan!" Sophie chirped back, and headed for the bathroom.
. . . It took a great feat of willpower not to drop her head into her hands. She knew exactly who was responsible for that mangling of her name. Norma had started it off and then it had been followed up by. . . .
"Grune, can we talk?"
Grune was—actually remembering to put the blocks away? Wow. She looked up and, as always, gave her a sunny smile. "Yes, Fenimore-chan?"
She came within half a second of sighing. "Have you been talking with that weird guy again?"
Grune looked blank—and no wonder, given how many of her friends seemed to be really, really strange. "'Weird guy'?"
"Yeah, the guy who took Sophie's peepit." . . . And their panties. Experiment or not, she wasn't going to forget that in a hurry.
Her expression cleared. "Oh, Arsène."
"Yeah, him." At least she wasn't calling him Arsène-chan. Probably because he asked her not to.
"Yes, that's right. He's very nice," Grune said with great predictability.
"I wouldn't go that far," she muttered, then said louder, "Was he calling you Grune-chan again?"
Grune nodded. "He said it sounds cuter."
Fenimore took a moment to check—yes, Sophie had found her snack all right. "Right. Listen, adding 'chan' to the end of names is just something for him, okay? It's not something you need to do." And it was definitely not something Sophie needed to be taught.
"It isn't?"
"It isn't. It's like. . . ." Idea! "You know how Norma is the only one who calls you 'G-Girl'? It's like that."
Fenimore smiled as she saw a look of understanding appear on Grune's face. Victory was—
"So I shouldn't even use it for Sophie-chan?"
. . . Almost hers. "Not even for Sophie."
"But she's very cute."
"She is," Fenimore acknowledged, "but you can probably find your own way to show it, all right?"
"All right." Grune considered that. ". . . Fifi?"
Fenimore sighed. At least she was used to that one. "Ask Sophie what she thinks."
"Okay, Fen-Fen!" Grune agreed and wandered off.
Great.
Another day, another round of collecting dishes from Grune’s room. This time of year wasn’t so bad— there weren't all that many flowers blooming yet—but in the middle of the summer, Grune could empty a cupboard in an afternoon.
Okay, Fenimore acknowledged, she probably wasn't that bad, but some days it sure felt like it.
She knocked on Grune's half-opened door (part of her leading-by-example training to stop Grune from any unfortunate wandering) and called out, "Grune?"
". . . Hello, Fenimore."
"Can I come in?" she asked—and only then did she register what a comparatively lackluster reply she'd gotten.
"Oh, yes, of course," Grune answered, and so in Fenimore went.
Grune was sitting on her bed; open in her lap was a scrapbook Fenimore hadn't recalled seeing before. She did a quick scan for dishes—none, good—then came to sit down beside her.
"What's that?" she asked, taking a look at . . . what did you even call a house that big? A mansion? Even that didn't seem to cut it. That place looked huge. . . . And why had Grune drawn two moons, anyway?
She'd probably forgotten she'd drawn one already, she decided. That was usually the best explanation when it came to the weird stuff her housemate did.
"That's Baron Castle," Grune answered as Fenimore came to her conclusion. (Castle, right, that was the word.)
She turned the page. Next was a picture of three children, probably around eight or nine. Fenimore didn't recognize the blond boy and girl, but the middle child, his hair coloured with sparkly silver crayon, looked familiar. Even in Luceti, there weren't a lot of people with weird hair like that.
She got up from the bed and scanned the walls until—there. Another picture with the same silver crayon, this time of a man probably in his late twenties. There were quite a few of them, actually, and if she thought about it, she could recall him visiting the house a few times. . . . She couldn't remember his name, though.
She turned back to see Grune looking down at the picture, her fingertips resting gently on its surface.
She sighed.
"Grune, that experiment wasn't real," she told her. "You know that, right?"
Grune nodded. "I know."
"Good."
For a moment, she stood there awkwardly. Then she joined Grune on the bed again. "It was probably pretty nice for you—not that you ever have a bad time during these things," she couldn't help but add. ". . . You had a family in Baron, right?"
"Yes, that's right." Grune gave a little sigh. "There was Cecil and Rosa and Kain—and the king and Cid, too. It was very nice."
King? Uh . . . okay. "I'm sure it was," Fenimore said. She hesitated. "But . . . you already have a home and a family, you know. A real one. So don't forget it, all right?"
A smile appeared on Grune's face, and—okay, maybe she was a little relieved to see it there. A little. "I won't." As expected, she leaned over to give her a sideways, seated hug. "Thank you, Fenimore."
Fenimore let her and tried to ignore the heat in her cheeks. "You're welcome."
And then, for just a second, she hugged her back. Immediately after, though, she untangled herself and got to her feet.
"Supper is in half an hour," she told her. "Don't forget."
"I won't," Grune answered lightly, sounding a lot more like her usual self.
"We'll see about that," Fenimore said under her breath and headed out.
The last she saw as she reached to close over the door behind her was Grune shutting the scrapbook and standing to put it away. She could only be grateful no one else was around to see the relieved smile that, just for a moment, appeared on her face.
"Don't worry, Fenimore," Grune assured her as she tugged her along. "Grell won't mind doing your nails, too. She said she likes it."
"Well . . . all right," Fenimore replied.
She still wasn't completely sure she should be going along with this, but . . . her nails had been looking a little ragged lately, and this friend of Grune's—whoever she was—had done a pretty nice job. She'd just see if she really didn't mind, the way Grune said.
Finding the woman in question turned out to be not exactly hard. Grune's target was still seated at the fountain, looking very bored, very tall, and very red.
Grune's permanent smile grew and, once they were close enough, she called out, "Hello, Grell!"
Grell looked up. "Hello, dear. Back so soon? You didn't chip a nail, did you?"
Wait. Were those . . . ?
"Oh, no," Grune assured her. "My nails still look very pretty. Do you think you could do Fenimore's, too?"
"Of course. It isn't as though there's much else to do in this horrid place." Grell turned to Fenimore and smiled. "Aren’t you cute? Here, hold out your hand so I can see your colours."
. . . Shark teeth.
"Never mind!" Fenimore managed. "Come on, Grune, let's get some, um, cake."
She set off at the fastest walk she could pull off without outright running, Grune's confused "All right, Fenimore" drifting after her.
Given the choice between plain nails and getting a manicure from a shark, she'd pick the boring option any day.
no subject
Of course Fenimore is the one to notice the shark teeth. Giles just doesn't even blink at stuff like that XD .
no subject
And neither does Grune. Poor Fenimore, though, is a very normal girl, and so she's a little less chill about that sort of thing.... XD
ITT poor Fenimore. And the return of the constant "Sohpie" typo.
Grune is so easily convinced. About things like this. There are things she's not so easily convinced about, of course.
Grell doing Grune's nails ♥ SOB how many people left are trying to keep them apart? Because poor Fenimore. LOL. I do love me some dramatic irony.
PFFFFT no explanation for the question. Just "Is my name Ambrosia?" Again wit dat irony. Yeah, I can see where that would come from XD
AND POLAND OH GOSH I REMEMBER THIS. I REMEMBER THIS. And be careful, Grune, dual-citizenship may make you subject to twice as many laws as normal XD; Poor Fenimore
Sophie-chan. How is this not her name yet. But I will admit that Fen-Fen-chan is going a little far, LOL. And now Grune calling her by her Norma nickname.
She should probably try to refrain from doing so for everybody. We have Sophie for that.
Also Fifi forever.
Aww.... poor Grune. It's okay, come of them still love you! ;~~; And you do have a family, so don't be sad! Fenimore does such a good job of taking care of Grune, that girl needs a medal. All of the hugs for both of them ♥
Also WHAT DID WE TELL YOU FENIMORE
WHY DON'T FICTIONAL CHARACTERS EVER LISTEN TO US
For a minute I thought I had the Sohpie typo and was all "How the HELL did my software manage that."
It actually happened in Luceti canon and was surprisingly cute. XD As for your question...er, not too many! Especially since Grune is also friends with Grell's boyfriend. Whoops.
Haruhi got stuck with the Namingway mask at Halloween, so this was the result. And Fenimore had the Paper Bag mask, so she didn't care. XD
WOW DUDE YOU HAVE A GOOD MEMORY! Because until I started proofreading this, I'd forgotten all about it. :D;; Not that Grune would concern herself about Polish law, because she always does the right thing! :Db
Surprisingly, I don't know! I guess Sophie just doesn't run into enough Japanese people.
Luckily for Fenimore, Grune will probably forget about it after a while. Sophie won't. :|b
It is the cutest nickname.
Everybody from FFIV still left in Luceti loves her, yes! It's just
Kainsome of them are pretty awkward about it. And she really does--taking care of an amnesiac goddess on top of a four-year-old who isn't even hers probably isn't what she signed on for.BECAUSE IT'S MUCH FUNNIER WHEN THEY DON'T?
Since I semi-reviewed this over IM already, have crack instead:
Mmmmmmmm crack! Also, appropriate icon is appropriate!