Summary: Dear diary, the world is dead, the King sucks, and we're trying to get out of this hell. I'm still not sure if we can pull it off, put we'll damn well do our best.
Warnings: Language, mild OOC, human names used, injury, mentions of sexual situations. Sort of.
Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia.
XXIII, V, XVIII.
Some guys got in a fight and the drones came in and got that taken care of. A small fire started on the outskirts of town, but that was quickly put out. Other than that it's been pretty calm.
I'm still alone here. My friends haven't came back from the town over yet, I'm not sure what's happened to them, they were supposed to be back yesterday.
I guess I can only hope that the drones didn't get them.
Roman numerals are used in place of numbers.
It's 23, 5, 18.
23rd day of the 5th month of the 18th year.
This is how the system will work unless I'm asked otherwise, I will make a note of what the numeral is in numerical form.
Thank you.
Anyways, this is a series of journal (diary) entries written by Gilbert about what's going on at the current moment in his life. It's nearly all going to be from my ask-dystopian-gilbert blog on Tumblr. *subtle promoting* Yeah. I just had the thought, this kinda seems like a fic, so, why not.