Exchange with LynnyLiz. I think I said I was gonna do some GerIta, but I think I threw enough hints in to compensate /fail and I love this pairing too much
one day I'll post something serious. one day, one day.
Fuck you. And fuck you too, Antonio, don't pretend I don't know you're reading over my shoulder. Why the fuck would I write in this diary, even if it has a fucking tomato on the cover? And why the hell did you draw my face onto the tomato? Are you stupid?
No, don't answer, I know already.
I can't believe I'm writing in this shit again. At least that tomato bastard isn't looking over this time. He gave this to me because he said that it would be good "therapy". What the fuck do I need therapy for? I'm fucking happy already. I don't see why people think I'm sad, dammit. Just because I yell doesn't mean I'm not happy, just really fucking annoyed (and you would be too if you were called a tomato every ten seconds).
I'm so fucking happy I piss rainbows.
I've got more happiness in my pinky toe then Feliciano will ever have.
So fuck off.
Feli came over with the potato bastard and the asian guy. Who is obviously having a bad influence on him, because as soon as Feli burst in he was like
"nii-chan nii-chan nii-chan nii-chan nii-chan nii-chan nii-chan nii-chan nii-chan nii-chan nii-chan nii-chan nii-chan nii-chan nii-chan nii-chan nii-chan nii-chan nii-chan nii-chan"
what the fuck
I told him we're not fucking Japanese, we're goddamn Italian he's like lololol I don't care because I'm too stupid to think for myself and I spend too much time around bastards who eat shit food
well not really, but that's what he meant
So Japan left, but Hasslehoff hadn't gotten the idea
You think he woulda the first hundred times I told him to get lost, but nooo
He's all like this is Feliciano's house too, and he invited me
so I went somewhere else
and that happened to be Spain's place (fuck you no one else was free k) and he was all bubbly and cheery and happy and Spain-y that I was here and everything
why does he have to be friends with that wino and potato bastard #2
now i'm in a fucking closet in Spain's room because a CERTAIN BLOND PERVERT and his FREAKY ASS ALBINO FRIEND won't leave me the fuck alone
this is all antonio's fault
So I fell asleep in the closet and when I wake up I'm in that tomato bastard's bed, it's the next day, and he's there beside me
I yelled when I saw him, becuase anyone would if they saw that pervert in their bed. It woke him up and he was all like "Awww My Lovi looks like a little tomato again~" so I head butted him and stomped right out of his stupid house.
Right after he made me paella (i swear he doesn't know how to make anything else)
Ok so maybe I didn't leave immediately the house but it's the bastard's fault for bribing me with food and a shitload of tomatoes
He saw that I brought this stupid journal with me and he had that huge stupid smile of his and was all fucking ecstatic that I was writing in it
he tried to read it but then i head butted him again, and now my head hurts
Okay, so maybe I stayed at Spain's an extra day. But that's because when I called Feli, he was breathing all heavy, and so was the potato bastard in the back. UGH
I don't think I'm going to go back to my place for a week.
And they better have cleaned up, dammit. It's bad enough that my brother's innocence is being completly ruined, especially by that potato bastard. I don't want my new leather sofa getting that too.
ANYWAYS so I'm sitting in the kitchen right now because Antonio went to the market to get some groceries. He kept on asking me to come, but I was in too shitty a mood. Whatever, he can deal.
I wonder why Antonio even bought this for me. What a loser. If he wanted me to get "therapy" then he coulda just sent me to the goddamn shrink. I kept a few journals when I was younger though, so the habit's reattached itself to me like a leech or Antonio.
Speaking of that bastard, I bet he just wants me to write a confession or something in here, then he'll steal this and read it.
Alright, here's your confession, you pervert.
Fuck You Fuck You Fuck You Fuck You Fuck You Fuck You Fuck You Fuck You Fuck You Fuck You Fuck You Fuck You Fuck You Fuck You Fuck You Fuck You Fuck You Fuck You Fuck You Fuck You Fuck You Fuck You Fuck You Fuck You Fuck You Fuck You Fuck You Fuck You Fuck You Fuck You Bastard Fuck You Fuck You Fuck You Fuck You Fuck You Fuck You Fuck You Fuck You Fuck You Fuck You Fuck You Fuck You Fuck You Fuck You Fuck You Fuck You Fuck You Fuck You Fuck You Fuck You Fuck You Fuck You Fuck You Fuck You Fuck You Fuck You Fuck You Fuck You Fuck You Fuck You Fuck You Fuck You Fuck You Fuck You Fuck You Fuck You Fuck You Fuck You Fuck You Fuck You Fuck You Fuck You
STILL AT SPAIN'S BECAUSE A CERTAIN POTATO BASTARD HAS NO SELF CONTROL AND A CERTAIN BROTHER OF MINE IS TOO STUPID FOR HIS OWN GOOD
speaking of bastards with no self control, Antonio tried crawling in bed with me again. I tried to push him off but it didn't work (who the fuck is so lazy and strong at the same time?) and he's all like
"But Lovi, this is my bed! ~"
SO WHAT? That didn't give him the right to try and sleep with me! And I was about to tell him this, and then he pulled my curl.
What the fuck!
Sometimes, I wish the law could be bent and you could send a nation to jail.
That dumbass STILL doesn't know what it does to me! Even after I had lived with him for so long! And he kept on pulling it and calling me a tomato (bastard!) until I gave in and let him stay.
The bastard tried to cuddle too. Cuddling is for pussies, which I obviously am not, nor am in possession of.
I let him. But only because I was tired, dammit. And it wasn't cuddling, because I'm not a fucking girl. It was sharing heat.
I think I'll move in with Antonio.
First, because he cooked something other than paella for a change.
Second, I don't think I'm going to ever go into my house. Ever. Again. I went back, because I thought it was safe, and potato bastard had left.
I thought wrong. Because apparently my place has become a whore-house. With only one whore, and one air-headed Italian customer.
After yelling at the two, I packed some shit and left. I went to Spain's (What the hell, I think it's become like an automatic reflex), and of course, he was all fucking chipper to see me.
After I finished complaining to him, you know what he did? He made me fucking tiramisu. And even though it wasn't as good as the one Feliciano makes, the bastard managed to not screw up.
And now my stomach hurts like shit. Why the hell did he let me eat so much? Why the hell did he make so much?
And we're still sharing a bed. Not because I want to, dammit! His bed's the only good one, and I'm not sleeping on any of the guest beds. God knows who else slept on there. Like France or Prussia. It's not like we haven't done this before. Whenever a squirrel decided to piss on my bed or I had a nightmare (I was little, okay) I used to get in bed with him. So this is no different. Not at all.
Speaking of bed, you know what surprises me? I'm writing this in bed right now. I thought tomato bastard was asleep, but he woke up like 10 minutes ago and asked me what I was doing. I told him I was just writing in the stupid diary he gave me. And he didn't say anything. He just rolled over and went back to sleep. He didn't even ask me what I was writing, or if he could read it or any shit like that.
Potato bastard left my house (finally)
Why am I still at Spain's?
Why is he back to making paella?
I just realized my birthday's in a week. After so many, you tend to forget. But stupid, cheerful, Spanish tomato bastards tend to remember. But that's probably because Feliciano's birthday is on the same day (twins, no shit) and everyone remembers him. Anyways, so Antonio asked me what I wanted for my birthday.
I gave him a full list of things I wanted, but he was like
"I love you, but I can't afford to get you all that Lovi, you'll have to pick one~" and then I was like
HE SAID HE LOVED ME
Alright, totally unnecessary freak out there. Spain, being the country of passion, would obviously throw that L word around like nothing, and it's not like he hasn't said it before. If it's got a pulse and walks, he'll hug it and love it.
But that bastard should know already that I take things very seriously
Like that time when he jokingly proposed to me! I joked back and said "Three meals and a nap" but the whole thing actually affected me more than I let on. Because for ten seconds (only! I swear) I thought he was actually serious. And it would have been nice if it actu
fuck, I think I'm going to kill myself.
Antonio went out drinking tonight with France and Prussia. He tried to get me to go but there's no way I'm going to go get wasted on cheap beer with three of the biggest perverts ever.
So instead, I invited Feliciano over so he could make me dinner, and for a change he didn't bring the potato bastard. He's in the kitchen right now making pasta, and I'm on the couch in the living room watching some shitty Spanish soap that Antonio told me to record for him which I am totally not doing right now.
I've been thinking on what to ask the bastard for my birthday. New Vespa? A thousand crates of tomatoes? The tiramisu that he's actually getting really good at? (though I'm not telling him that, because then that's all he'd make. Like that one time I told him his paella wasn't half-bad and he hasn't stopped making it yet)
Ahh, Feli's calling me. And for a change, he's not calling me "nii-chan" he's calling me fratello, like the Italian he is.
Ve, big brother, you write as much as you talk about big brother Spain!
I CAN'T BELIEVE HE ACTUALLY FUCKING READ MY DIARY
AND HE WROTE IN IT! WHAT THE HELL WHAT THE HELL WHAT THE HELL! HE EVEN PUT IN A VE! WHAT THE HELL WHAT THE HELL WHAT THE HELL! I'M GETTING A LOCK FOR THIS SHIT
And I do NOT write a lot about Antonio! I just have like ten fucking entries in this thing! And it's not my fault those ten entries fell on the days I was with Spain. And I was with him because A CERTAIN TWO PEOPLE JUST WOULDNT LEAVE MY FUCKING HOUSE
and I told him that, and he's like "Ve, nii-chan, you talk about him a lot too! But it's ok, that's what people in love do~"
Everyone's so annoying. And they wonder why I'm always irritated?
Anyways, so I kicked him out (after he finished the pasta) but the little bastard was too cheerful to be actually sad, saying something about how I didn't deny it.
We're not in love! Spain loves everyone, and he definitely doesn't love me in that kind of way. I think that tomato bastard is too dense to love anyone in that way. This is the person who is completely oblivious to being groped!
I'm not saying that I tried or anything, dammit, i'm talking about that wine bastard.
speaking of bastards, one just came home right now.
SPELLING/GRAMMAR ERRORS: AUTHENTICITY OYE OYE OYEE
Yeah, this will be a small multi-chaptered fic.
I love poking fun at like everything within both the series and the fanverse , such as overuse of paella :P I'm probably guilty of a lot of these, so it's all good ;D