romano fail

italy romano

After the Italies had unified, the brothers had not been seen until months after at a world meeting.
   Prussia had been giving a speech- his boots shiny, his voice strictly accented, as if his discipline was as straight as his spine. The Prussian kingdom had been interrupted by the sound of the door opening.
    A man that couldn’t have been over five foot eight stepped into the room, childish amber eyes scanning the room. Italy Veneziano had grown from a short, stocky teen into a lean, handsome young man. The nations in the room observed the way he held himself silently, paying no attention to Prussia.
     Veneziano didn’t walk to his seat. He skipped with such a spring to his step that it made even the usually unbreakable Sweden crack a smile. He was a pretty man, anyone could see. He had long lashes that accentuated his eyes and hair.
      The man looked expectantly towards the door, and some countries were confused, especially a certain Spanish nation. They had all been told that there would only be one Italy after their unification, but there were two empty seats.
       Another man shuffled in, dragging his feet on the carpet. He was easily a few years older than his brother, although their faces and hair were similar. His long bangs covered his downcast eyes.
      It was only when the man looked up did the audience really took notice. Even Prussia stopped his speech to stare at him.
    The last time Italy Romano had been in this room, he had been but a teenager- lanky, uncomfortable in his own coffee-colored skin. Now, however, he was completely filled out, and not one nation didn’t notice.
    His nervous eyes swept the room, and despite the fear clearly showing, his deeply bronze eyes were full of fiery passion waiting to unleash. His curly, dark brown hair and understandably thick eyebrows only accentuated his eyes.
     Italy Veneziano may be cute, but Italy Romano, with his long lashes and thin fingers, was gorgeous.
     The southern Italian nation caught the astonished eyes of his fellow countries and raised an eyebrow perfectly. “What?”
     His voice was a whole different perspective. It was deep, cutting, and yet something that would be beautiful to wake up to. Some countries wondered if his singing voice was even better.
      The voice of Italy Romano made some shiver, some stare still more, and some even to blush. The country of Spain, tying his long hair up to distract himself, was no exception to the last one.
     Not a country could keep their eyes off of him, men and women alike. The strictly military Prussia stumbled over his words, which was unthinkable. All eyes were on this handsome, shy country.
      Even when the years passed, and Prussia was no longer obliged to sit up straight and conceal his obnoxious nature, Italy Romano never failed to captivate the meeting room.
      The countries had kept their observing to small glances- they had learned to watch for the slightly perturbed, confused face of Italy Romano to see when to stop. The passively jealous Spain’s slight glare was always an indicator.
      Italy Romano didn’t seem to notice how people acted around him after he had grown up- after a while, the countries had gone back to being themselves. However, he could never shake the feeling that someone was watching him. Sometimes he’d catch a stare, and he would glare at them with his full arsenal.
     Italy Romano didn’t think the world was all that beautiful, but the world thought Italy Romano was gorgeous.

svarturfjara  asked:

No. 5, 1948: Do you tend to break away from traditions and cultural norms? Are you the rebellious type?

“Of course I am! Are you kidding? Ever heard of the Rebellion of 1820 in Naples? The Rebellion of 1848 in Sicily? Anyone ever tell you Garibaldi’s Army started with Sicily? France and America aren’t the only ones who know how to rebel.”