August 11th - Happy Birthday Cloud

The sky has finally opened

The rain and wind stopped blowin'


It's raining today. It never rains during the summer months in Midgar. But a tropical storm in the western part of the continent is pushing towards Midgar.

Cloud is fine with it raining today. Mainly because that means canceled or rescheduled appointments, which means fewer people to disrupt Cid.

"Told you your gift would be worth it. Ain't that right, Cid?" Biggs chuckled.

"Ha! If he weren't so gods-damn picky about color, it would be a helluva lot better!"

Cloud fearfully watches for Cid's life as he cackles with the cigarette in between his lips. It is a gods-damn miracle Cid, to this day, hasn't choked on a cigarette butt. Yet...

He's also monitoring the red marker between Cid's fingers, ensuring he doesn't add an unnecessary line for shading. He trusts Cid's craft with his work, but he's about to get a tattoo stuck to his arm for the rest of his life. So he's making damn sure Cid doesn't screw up anything.

Cloud just shrugs the shoulder Cid isn't working on, eyes on the reflection in the tall mirror. "Black and grey tattoos last longer."

"Color works better on your skin tone!"

"Black and grey tattoos are closer to skin tone."

"I'm better known for my bold, color tattoos!"

"Biggs wouldn't have brought me here if he knew you would suck at black and grey."

"Listen here, boy––"

"All right, you two, that's enough of that," Shera, Cid's wife and the only sensible manager of the Rocket Town Tattoo Shop. She brings Cid's tea and water for both Cloud and Biggs and already has the second teacup brewing for Cloud. "Cid, put the marker away if you're done making your shading marks. Your values are fine."

Husband and wife standoff, eyes unblinking and defiance in their stances. Cloud shivers, shivers, at the death promise in Shera's eyes if Cid doesn't cut the crap. Cid can only shake his head and begin pulling out ink cups, a bottle of black ink, and his assortment of needles.

"And put out that cigarette while you're working." A quiet command, but Cloud hears the bite and feels Cid recoil.

Cloud catches Biggs in the mirror, biting his knuckle and struggling to hold in his laugh.

"Got a death wish?" Cid growls as he spots Cloud smirking in the mirror and Biggs now shaking his knee.

"Just want to see my tattoo come to life."

"Then shut the fuck up!"

Biggs howls, tears at the corner of his eyes. Cid shouts more colorful language, but Cloud isn't really paying attention to anything they say. He's a bit too busy admiring his new soon-to-be sleeve in the mirror. A soon-to-be Biomechanical sleeve. How had Bigg's known that this was on his bucket list? He already had his Phoenix sleeve on his right arm, and Evan's monstrous Cetran Calendar tattooed across the expanse of his entire back. A gift from his mentor after he completed his year of apprenticeship. A Traditional Wutain sleeve and a Realism backpiece. And now a biomechanical sleeve…

And to have the design drawn by one of the founding fathers of Biomechanical Tattooing.

Thirty years of helping pave the groundwork of traditional and modern biomechanical made Cid revered and respected in tattooing. So he's not exactly sure how Evan came to do a completely unique style of tattooing from his mentor. Still, it is no surprise how thoroughly Cid had drilled into him the work ethic to work in the industry.

Cloud folds and twists his arm, moving at different angles to see the long, sweeping, organic patterns flowing down and wrapping across every inch of skin. The serpentine shapes, the skin rips, the coils, the gears––

He loves it. It's not yet tattooed, and he's already in love with it.

Cloud catches Biggs in the mirror, calmed down but red all over. There's smugness and pride in his demeanor. There's so much joy and even affection radiating off his friend.

"Shit, Biggs. Seriously…" Cloud is drawing up the likely estimate of this tattoo in addition to Cid's artistry. He is mildly panicking at how much Bigg's probably paid Cid for this piece. And he has to come in for another 3 sessions for Cid to complete it.

"Hey man, it's your birthday. Just shut up and take it." Cloud shakes his head. Embarrassed, but he's pleased. He'll talk to Evan about taking Biggs on a camping trip in March for his birthday.

"Shera!" Cid hollers, "Make sure Roddie fuckin' mops the gods-damn floor! Everyone's leaving puddles everywhere!" Cloud moves from his place in front of the mirror and settles in the chair, accepting the cup of Wutain herbal tea Shera steeped just for him to help calm his nervous energy.

"Cid, he's stenciling 4 line drawings. Let him finish. I'll take care of it."

"Boy wants to be my apprentice, then he will learn it the hard way!"

"He's your fourth apprentice in the last two months and––"

"Lazy, spoiled chumps like him got nothing to offer to tattoo craft but their own ego! If he's gods-damn serious about it, then he better put his fuckin' work where his mouth is!"

Shera sighs, clearly done and over with Cid today. But before she heads to the front desk, she ruffles Cid's untamed short spikes. Cid pauses his work, pinched brows and eyes relaxing, shoulders drooping as he breathes in deeply. Cloud blinks. Shera's soft, cinnamon, and herbal scent, like chamomile, wraps around both of them. It's almost calming, relieving any tension both he and Cid are carrying. He's never seen Cid act, so... it's not the right word, but Cid seems almost docile.

Cid, eyes closed and relaxed, slowly nods, and Shera smiles. As if whatever silent, unspoken language that passed through them calmed and silenced Cid's loud and brutish personality to help him focus and center himself. Cloud feels as if he just witnessed some sort of holy ritual between two soul-bonded people. He does not know what that is like. To be so in-tune with someone, not needing to speak to convey thought and feeling, but he figures it must be like what just passed between them.

Cloud silently sips his tea as Cid finishes setting up his workstation. The short sleeves of Cid's blue heather T-shirt let him admire some of the most detailed biomechanical sleeves Cloud has ever seen. And that was only a third of the story. Cloud has seen photos of Cid's red and blue body armor tattoo covering his entire upper body, front and back. A bodysuit with skin rips revealing chips, rods, coils, pipes, and gear components from space shuttles and rockets.

No one would've imagined that a Shinra Space Division rocket engineer would end up a tattoo artist.

"Ready, kid?"

Cloud breathes in as he nods, eyes shutting as the hum of Cid's machine rumbles. "Fire away."

"Let's fuckin' do this!"

As usual, the first pricks are annoying, and they don't hurt any less than the other times Cloud has gotten tattooed. He's just better now at learning how to breathe in and out to avoid feeling tension and nerves.

"Don't go pissin' on my chair!"

Cloud wriggles his nose in absolute disgust. Shit. He's probably sitting in a chair where it has likely happened. "Has that happened?"

"Drunk, tattoo virgin showed up one night for his appointment. The kid kept whining and squirming during his entire session, and I started tattooing a sensitive part. The little fucker pisses on my chair. Made him clean up his mess and sent him home with just the linework done."

Cloud only chuckles, breathing in and welcoming the slight pain of the pricks of the needle. "He had it coming. Did he at least come back to get it finished?"

"Course he came back! Wasn't about to let some cheap-ass tattoo artist finish my precious work with shitty quality!"

Shera cheerfully chimes in as she is typing something on her laptop. "What he isn't telling you is that during the entire prep time, he was just yelling at the poor boy."

"Look here, woman––"

"Get back to work, dear." Cloud has to bite his lip. Even Cid, foul-mouthed and crude, can't compete against his soft-spoken wife, who is now glaring daggers. It's no wonder Rocket Town Tattoo Shop remained afloat. Its leading tattoo artist was challenging to deal with, but a kind-hearted person who can handle her own and kick Cid's ass into shape manages it. Cloud can see that the two were perfect for each other and for the business.

Biggs stands, standing far enough to not block Cid's lighting but close enough to take in the amount of work Cid has done. They'll be here until five-thirty––enough time for Cid to complete all the linework and a bit of shading.

"Bro, your skin takes ink like smooth butter."

Cloud nods as he tilts his head to the side to see Cid working in some small, intricate line patterns on his bicep. "Everyone I've ever gotten tattooed by has told me the same thing."

"Probably cause he showers every day," Cid mutters, toothpick now in between his lips.

Well, yeah. The truth of the matter was that Cloud did like taking care of his body and his tattoos. Showering every day to wipe off the sweat, followed by body lotion and body oil. He wants to try and maintain the fresh look of his tattoos until sun exposure and old age change his skin texture and tone. He's going to have to cut down his time in the shower to make sure his new tattoo heals up nicely.

"I just want to take care of my tattoos."

"This guy's Phoenix healed up so good," Biggs points out. "And it still looks nice after all these years."

"Which one was your first tattoo?" Cid asks while changing his needle.

"There's an artist in Sector One that does black and grey realism—found their online portfolio, asked them to do my mom's portrait on my ribcage."

"You did a rib tattoo for your first tattoo? Would've thought it's the script you gotch' on your knuckles."

"I did them myself when I was an apprentice." His lousy attempt at black and grey graffiti of his mother's name on his knuckles lettering displayed poor linework and shitty shading. Even the little heart at the end of her name looked wobbly. Evan still laughs at him for it to this day.

Cid howls as he pulls away and yanks back the gun. Cloud pulls his arm away to make sure he steers clear of the tattoo gun. "Ya' should've been my apprentice, then! We make all apprentices in the shop tattoo themselves. They don't get near any clients until they respect the gods-damn work they put it."

Indeed. Evan had tattooed sacred hearts and Mideel Tribal on his calves during his apprenticeship. Then, he had Biggs cover them up with a Sailor Junon pinup girl, swallows, skulls, and roses. Apparently, they were that bad.

Evan didn't let Cloud near any clients until he approved his work on pig skin, artificial skin, or his own skin. The semi-decent peony matching tattoos on either side of his pelvis allowed Cloud to do a collaborative sleeve with Evan. Evan critiqued, shadowed, praised, bullied, and thoroughly drilled into Cloud the fundamentals of tattooing until Cloud slowly developed his own style. Eventually leading him to have his own station at Forgotten Capital Tattoo.

Obviously, few aspiring tattoo artists want to deal with Cid's mentoring style and, likely, his irritable behavior. But whatever worked for Evan could work for someone else apprenticing under Cid. Sometimes, the first mentor isn't always the best match for a rising apprentice. And Cloud remains grateful that Evan saw something in him that convinced him to accept him.

Cid hums a tune, zeroing in on the rough patch of elbow skin so he could carefully work to make sure the lines remained clean. "Relax your fist and bend it a bit."

Cloud follows Cid's instruction, focusing his attention on the letters on his knuckles. He won't ever seek to get them removed or reworked. Despite how terrible they are, the graffiti lettering is the first tattoo he's ever drawn on human instead of animal skin. His first pieces of tattoo work. They were his pride. They'll never embarrass him.

Biggs stands up, stretching his limbs as he sets down a copy of Loveless on the couch.

"Gonna grab us a late lunch. Chili burgers or tuna melts?"

"Burgers," Cid hollers, pausing his work and gleefully pulling out his wallet and handing some Gil into Bigg's hand. "And chili cheese fries with a root beer."

"What about you, Shera? Cloud?"

Shera says, "Same as Cid, please." Cid chuckles, and Shera blushes.

"You got it! And you?"

"No pickles or onions or tomato on mine."

"Such a picky eater."

Cloud pulls out his own wallet before Biggs walks out the door. "Oh, not so fast, bud! It's your birthday, remember? I gotcha covered."

"Biggs, you're already paying for my tattoo. And then later––"

"Just let us spoil you, man. Don't worry about it!" Biggs salutes them before he shuts the door.

Cloud sighs as he reclines back on the seat. He's not used to being showered with attention and gifts. In fact, he does all he can to avoid it. But, somehow, this year, it's different. Somehow, Biggs is gifting him with a new sleeve. Evan, traditionally, is giving him the weekend off but extended his vacation to an entire week. Wedge and Jessie showed up at his apartment earlier in the morning to cook him breakfast.

And Zack, Aerith, and Yuffie, later in the evening...

"It's weird, ain't it?" Cid asks as he lines a clean curve on his forearm.

"What's weird?"

"Ya' wake up one day, after years of being on your own, find yourself surrounded by people who apparently want to be your friend, but ya don't know how to accept it." Cloud stays silent, watching Cid start to make another intricate detail pattern in the skin rips of his forearm. "Ya wonder what you ever did to deserve them good people who walked into your life after being such a screw-up."

Cloud knew fighting. He knew failing. He knew how it felt to be broken down so bad inside when the bullies reminded him every day of how much of a failure he was. He knew about failing to follow his father's footsteps and join the Shinra SOLDIER division.

"But somehow, ya' realize it worked to your advantage cause it led you to a path you never thought about taking. Cause you––" Cid wipes off some excess ink. "––Cause you've got a talent for something no one else around you has. So, you venture off the straight, set path to find people you wanna be inspired by."

Cloud remembers submitting his shoddy art portfolio to many tattoo artists before he met Evan. They never took him as their apprentice, but he was so inspired by their work that he'd asked for their help and their feedback and some guidance to help him pursue this career.

A career he knew his mother never imagined for him but would support him all the same.

Those tattoo artists sent him out of their shops with parted wisdom and advice and references to any other tattoo shop. Not one of them called him a failure. He walked out disappointed but motivated and inspired.

"Ya' learned the path all on your own, but ya' find out you never really did. Cause ya' always had someone encouraging ya,' someone criticizing ya,' someone telling you the truths you needed to hear. You realize ya' had friends all along. Strange thing to accept once you recognize it."

Zack and Aerith––he owed it to them for the months he spent sleeping on their couch when he had nowhere to go. How did Zack choose him, a lowly trainee grunt, amongst a menagerie of talented, successful Class First SOLDIERs, to be his friend? He still did not know to this day. And Aerith...Beautiful, loving Aerith scolding him when he felt like giving up at times, letting him know how much of an idiot he was for doubting his art and himself. Honestly, he might have married her too if he'd met her long ago.

And then Evan, Wedge, Yuffie, and Biggs...

Biggs strolls in thirty minutes later, balancing a drink tray in one hand and two large paper bags in the other, filling the room with the scent of chili that makes Cloud's stomach grumble. Cid wraps up Cloud's arm in clear plastic wrapping, securely taping it before pushing away his workstation. Shera has set up plates and napkins at the resting area near the front of the shop, helping Biggs sort out the food and drinks.

Cloud is sharing a meal with friends on his birthday. He's settled between Cid and Biggs, munching down on a chili burger. Talking about Midgar sports teams, rising prices of tattoo ink supplies, an invitation by Shinra Company to display Cid's metal sculptures using recycled Shinra Mako pipes at their annual gala for auction.

Ya' learned the path all on your own, but ya' find out you never really did...You realize ya' had friends all along. Strange thing to accept once you recognize it.

Indeed.


"All right, boy. Go check it out," Cid says as he finishes wiping on ointment onto Cloud's arm. Cloud softly groans at the cooling effect of the jelly across his burning arm. It is like a nice sheet of ice layering on top of a mountain of fire ants. He gets up from the chair towards the large mirror. He can't stop the smile growing on his lips.

"Would you look at that," Biggs says, a shit-eating grin etched across his face as they all took in the sleeve. "I think I get props for this year's best present."

Cloud chuckles, awed and smug at his new tattoo. "Fair enough."

The skin rips flow and connects nicely off the Cetran Calendar backpiece at the top of his shoulders. More skin rips wrapped around his arm, torn and even almost melting to reveal coils, gears, rods, pipes, and even a motorcycle motor around his wrist and half of his forearm. It is just the first session, so only the line work and shading at the top were done today. His more cynical, art-critique side stayed silent, finding Cid's linework perfectly clean and crisp and nothing to complain about.

Cid is known in Midgar for his graphic, colorful take on biomechanical tattoos. Still, his black and grey work was just as impeccable. The amount of shading Cid could get done is richly dark but allowed enough skin to breathe. In addition, it allowed the imaginary light source to create perfect, illusionary texture in the skin rips.

"Cid, it looks awesome."

"Don't I fuckin' know it?!"

He raises his arm, folds it behind his head to look at the linework done on his underarm. His artist's eye gathers every little detail. It is looking perfect. He'll do his absolute best to make sure it heals nicely for his next session.

"That's some smooth shading you've got there," Biggs says. "I know for a fact Cloud is shitting himself but is acting all cool and calm to hide it."

"Fuck you, Biggs."

Cid cackles, applying another layer of aftercare ointment to Cloud's arm before wrapping another plastic wrap around and taping it. "Ya' know the rules: no sun, no scratching, lotion, and sunscreen every day."

Cloud grunts as he puts on his muscle shirt and his black hoodie. He turns to Biggs as his friend finishes his call. "Yup, we just finished. We'll be there in twenty!"

"All right, kid! See you in a bit! Got to go pick up the kid, and we'll head over to your place."

A barbeque. Cloud's friends have organized a barbeque for him at his apartment. He has a home to come back to with friends waiting to celebrate his birthday. Ten years ago, Cloud would've never imagined himself with such things. Climbing out of the low point in his life only to have his friends helping and support him. Blessing him with the things he is happy to call his own–– a home, a career, a reputation, company, colleagues, companions.

He wants sixteen-year-old Cloud to know that everything in his is not perfect. He still has doubts, he still has insecurities, he's still challenging himself, but everything will be okay. To look forward to spending birthdays with friends.

Biggs gently slaps him on the back of the shoulder that isn't tattooed, steering him out the door. "Ah, looks like it stopped raining."

Cloud looks up to see a cloudy Midgar sky, but no rain falling. Biggs stands with him on the sidewalk with reflections of light on the puddles and streams across the streets. The scene inspires an image to come to life in his mind that he will sketch later tonight in his personal studio to paint on a canvas with acrylics and pastels.

But first, he'll eat. He'll celebrate twenty-six.

"Looks like it."


Authors Note

Hello hello! This one-shot collection is inspired by "Rainbow" by Kacey Musgraves. After having this played on Spotify on repeat, the one-shots that you will see throughout the week have been the culmination of my imaginative headspace. And somehow, the slight-AU world of "A Permanent Promise" was weaved in.

I really owe it to fanfic writer on , VivaLaQueen, for their two-shot story "Ink Addiction", a work that I keep coming back to over and over again. There will be a piece later on even directly inspired by that story, and wherever you are, VivaLaQueen, in this world, I just want to say thanks!