A/N: Tumblr has gotten to me. It's short, but I had to.
~Begin
Germany was getting really annoyed now. The world meeting had started two hours ago, and Italy was nowhere to be seen. It was the sixth time in a row he'd missed the meetings entirely, and while Romano was there to help, it wasn't exactly. . . Pleasant, to hear "bastard" and other, more colorful words every other minute.
Neither hide nor hair was found of him, even out of the meetings, actually. People just assumed he kind of dropped off the face of the earth, or that Germany was holding him captive, in Romano's case.
Now, as he was listening to the yells and screams and fighting that every world meeting lead up to, he nearly fell asleep.
However-
"HEY EVERYBODY! Check me out~!"
Italy popped into the room, silencing everyone and practically freezing them. England was still pulling France's hair, while Switzerland was still reaching for a gun. They all turned to stare, open mouthed, at the sight before them.
The Italian was covered in tattoos. Head to toe, on the knuckles, his hands, even around his eye was a decorative little design.
Everyone almost passed out, whether from laughter or shock, no one knows.
"Italy, dude! What'd you do?" asked America, blue eyes wide behind his glasses.
"I saw people walking around with beautiful little drawings in their body, and I wanted one too!" Italy smiled, his eyes (for once) wide open and glowing in excitement.
"So you got a tattoo?!" Germany screeched, hands flying up and over his head in shock. He couldn't believe that he could even think of getting a needle near him for a shot, let alone multiple tattoos!
"Yup!" he chirped. He was then slapped by his brother, who looked just as shocked as everyone else.
"Y-you hate needles though! Why the fuck would you want to cover yourself in these things?!" shouted Romano. His little brother, getting tattoos! The thought was absurd. Granted, there were no explicit or disturbing images (at least, not that they could see), but the fact still stands.
Italy smiled brightly, rolling up his sleeves and pant legs, to show more of them.
"Because, I wanted to look like a walking art piece! Aren't they beautiful, Romano?"
And indeed, they were. The birds on his shin, the flower on his wrist, and all the other drawings were marvelous.
By this point, Japan couldn't decide whether to laugh or pass out, so he just stared on. Some others, like Romano, had actually passed out. And still others, like France and Hungary, claimed he looked adorable and tougher.
While Italy showed off his new art, Germany just wanted to get a beer and go home. And, soon enough, he did just that, locking himself in his room with enough beer and wurst to kill someone.
He didn't come out for a full day. And when he did, he was pissed drunk.
~Fin