Hey, everybody! (insert that voice of the sketchy doctor in The Simpsons) Have I mentioned lately that I am LITERALLY IN LOVE WITH YOU ALL?! WILL YOU ALL MARRY ME?! Not really, I'm taken. But you guys are super awesome! I read you guys' reviews and I want to cry because you guys are so darn sweet! And all your predictions and whatnot crack me up. This may have been up yesterday, but I kind of recently got addicted to this show called Reign and...yeah...I'm addicted. It's not pretty. But, it is here now! Even though I wore gloves while writing this because my dad really needs to turn the heat up...Enjoy!

Okay, not to sound creepy, but for all my fellow Americans, would you guys be interested in leaving a review, just saying what state you live in? I'm from New York (NOT the city) and I feel like a lot of people who's stories I read are from New York too. It just got me curious.

Disclaimer: I seriously almost said something about Richelle Mead...well...TMI doesn't belong to me or her!

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Chapter 6:

I was seriously seconds away from punching this receptionist. Clary sensed my anger and put a reassuring-or possibly restricting-hand on my arm.

"What's your name again?" the receptionist asked around a mouthful of gum as she clicked her fake nails against the counter.

"Jace Herondale," I repeated. This chick couldn't have been any older than me, but she was dumber than a box of rocks.

She was still squinting at the book in front of her when a middle aged man with a tight buzz cut of black hair, and tattoos up and down both arms came strolling in from the back room. "Sarah, will you tell me when my-oh! I'm guessing you're my two o'clock?"

I sighed, glad to finally be able to speak to an intelligent individual. "I am," I confirmed, sticking my hand out. "I'm Jace."

The man clasped my hand firmly and shook. Even his knuckles were tattooed. "Tom. Pleasure to meet you." He eyed Clary. "Moral support?"

Clary's laughter twinkled around the tiny shop. "I don't know how much help I'll be, but I'll sure try."

Tom laughed as well. "Oh, Jace, can I see some ID? Just to make sure you're eighteen." I pulled out my wallet and showed him my license. Tom squinted at it for a moment, then nodded. "Alright. Come back here and we'll get a design started for you."

I turned to Clary. "You can stay out here until the tattoo starts, if you want."

Clary hesitated, but then nodded. "Sure. Just let me know."

Thank God. She couldn't see the tattoo before it was on my body and completed. I followed Tom into the back room and sat down across from him at a desk.

Tom put on glasses and clapped his hands together. "Well, what were you thinking that you wanted?"

I pulled out the design Clary made and laid it out on the desk. "This, as close to the original design as you can get it."

Tom pulled it toward him and squinted at it for a few moments, nodding every now and again. Finally, he looked up at me from under his brow. "You draw this?"

I let out a bark of laughter. "Yeah, right. No, I don't have an ounce of artistic ability in me. That girl out there-Clary-she drew it."

Tom smirked and quirked an eyebrow at me. "How long have you two been together?"

I blinked in surprise. I mean, it wasn't the first time someone thought Clary and I were a couple, but it still shook me a little every time I heard it. "No. I mean-we aren't-we're just friends. Since we were in kindergarten."

Tom nodded. "That's nice. Wish that would rub off on my daughter out there." He shook his head. "She's got a new guy every week, and then sobs over each of them."

I laughed a little, but felt uncomfortable, not wanting him to think I was making fun of his daughter.

Tom focused his attention back on the design for a few minutes. Then he nodded once and looked up at me. "Yeah, I think I can actually keep the tattoo real close to this. I can basically trace it, maybe fix something up here or there, but, yeah. Yeah, this will turn out real nice. Where do you want it?"

I couldn't tell whether he was talking to himself or me for about half of that conversation. "My bicep." I gestured to the bicep of my left arm.

Tom stood and took a few measurements. Then he stepped back and I stood up. "This will take me about fifteen minutes to draw up for you. You can wait out there and I'll come out when it's done. Sound good?"

I nodded. "Awesome. Thanks. But, there's one more thing-do you see her signature down there?"

Tom squinted to where I pointed, then nodded.

"Is there anyway you can put it in the corner of the tattoo, like she signed her piece of work?"

Tom gave me a smile full of understanding. His smile said, I've been there before, buddy, and there's hope. "I can definitely do that." Tom clapped my back and I strolled out into the makeshift lobby with a grin on my face.

Clary stood as soon as I entered. "How'd it go? Is he going to change it a lot?"

I plopped down onto the vintage couch and patted the spot next to me. Clary sat down and bit her thumbnail-something she does when she's nervous. "Not one bit," I told her as I pulled her thumb away from her mouth. She blushed and grinned sheepishly. "Well, he said maybe a touch-up here or there, but nothing really. Oh, and he told me that you did a great job on it."

Clary's blushed only deepened at the compliment. "Well, that's good. I know you didn't want to change it."

We lapsed into a comfortable silence, filled only by the sound of my foot bouncing against the tiled floor. And don't forget the occasional snap of Sarah's gum. After about five minutes, someone finally spoke up. "This your first tattoo or something?" Sarah asked.

I froze my foot and looked up at Sarah. She was focused on her magazine, not looking at me, but obviously expecting an answer. I cleared my throat nervously. "Um, yeah. It is."

Sarah smirked at her magazine. "Don't be so nervous. Seriously, it doesn't hurt that bad. Unless you're getting it on your skull." She looked at me with slightly narrowed eyes. "Which I'm guessing you aren't, judging by your long, golden locks."

Clary snorted from beside me and I elbowed her lightly in the ribs. "No, I'm getting it on my bicep."

Sarah nodded, again to her magazine. "That's not a bad spot. Seriously, just sit back, relax, and chill till it's over. My dad's really good at making it go by fast."

I nodded. "Thanks." I'm glad I didn't punch her.

It took about another five minutes for Tom to come back. "Alright," he proclaimed. "You ready to see it?"

I jumped up, not wanting Clary to see it incase she saw the signature part. I looked down at his tracing of Clary's image. "Wow," I said. "That looks exactly like the original."

Tom grinned. "I know, right? I should do this for a living." Behind him Sarah snorted. "Watch it," he called. He turned to Clary and handed her the original. "You are a very talented artist, young lady. If you ever decide to become a tattoo artist, my door is open."

Clary laughed. "Thanks, but I really wasn't leaning that way. Needles make me squeamish."

Tom led us to the back room as he spoke. "I understand. It really isn't for everyone. Alright, Jace, roll your sleeve up as far as it will go and sit down in this chair here. Great. Now I'm just going to tape it up so that it won't fall down while I'm tattooing. Perfect." I did as he asked and waited for further instruction. He put gloves on and started messing with something behind him. He turned back around, holding shaving cream and a disposable razor. "Sorry, but I can't tattoo over hair." I nodded and he made quick work of shaving off the light arm hair that covered my bicep. Once that was finished, he had to place the outline of the tattoo on my bicep.

Clary had been standing to my left, where she could see the tattoo, but I wouldn't let her see it before it was permanent. "Clary," I said, maybe a little too loudly-my nerves were really starting to get to me. "Do you wanna come sit over here?" I gestured to the chair that was on my right.

Clary bit her lip, watching Tom for a moment more, then nodded. She took her time and sat herself down next to me, wheeling the chair as close as it would come. Without a word, she grabbed my hand and squeezed.

"So, Clary," Tom said as he got his equipment all set up. "How'd you learn to draw like that?" And then he turned it on and set the needle to my skin.

It wasn't as bad as I had feared, but that isn't to say it didn't hurt. I knew I would have to sit here for hours, and the prospect of that combined with the immediate pain made it seem too daunting. I needed a distraction, so I completely focused all of my attention on Clary.

She had taken on that small smile she gets whenever she talks about art. But it was off-she was obviously worried about me. I squeezed her hand reassuringly. "Well, my mother is an artist," she told Tom.

He raised an eyebrow at her. "Is that so? What's her medium?"

"Mostly painting, but she draws too, and I've seen her sculpt once or twice."

Tom nodded. "What about you?"

Clary's smile broadened a little. She was so damn passionate about art. Anytime it was brought up she took on this glow that almost made it hard to look at her. Like a too close star. "I draw a lot, but I paint a little too. Sculpting, however, I totally suck at."

Tom laughed as he wiped excess ink off my arm. "You and me both, honey. It's like you put a three dimensional object in my hands and I lose all artistic ability."

Clary laughed and the music eased my nerves a little. "Exactly!"

Tom wiped my arm again and looked up to catch my eye. "How you doing, man? I know the first one's always tough."

I almost shrugged, but then remembered that may not be the best idea. "I'm alright. I honestly expected worse."

Tom laughed. "You aren't the first to say that. Your mind can be your best ally or your worst enemy. Do you mind if I ask why you wanted this design?"

"The design was all Clary. I just told her I wanted my parents' names and she ran with it."

Tom nodded. "So Stephen and Celine are your parents? That's pretty nice of you to get a tattoo for them. Most people your age come in here and only want a boyfriend or girlfriend's name."

I swallowed and looked away. I wasn't particularly fond of explaining what happened to my parents. I caught Clary's eye and she immediately understood. I needed her to explain for me.

I know this sounds weird, but I liked it when Clary told the story. She made it all seem so…rational. She didn't let emotions get involved into it, she simply stated what happened. It really helped me get my own emotions in check.

"His parents died in a car crash when he was ten. Drunk driver going the wrong way on an icy road," she said quietly.

Tom stopped tattooing and looked up at me. "That really sucks, man. I'm sorry I brought it up."

I shook my head. "It's alright. I'm doing this to remember them. I can't hide it forever."

Tom went back to the tattoo. "Good for you. That's a really brave-and mature-thing to do."

Clary squeezed my hand again.

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The tattoo took four hours. The shading was the worst part of it, but it was done soon after that. I sagged in relief when Tom turned off his machine and said, "You ready to see it?"

I nodded and stood up. Clary tried to walk around me but I stopped her. "You don't get to see it until I do." She rolled her eyes. We walked over the full length mirror he had across the room, still hand in hand. I kept my right side facing the mirror and turned to Clary. "You ready?" She nodded. I turned and gasped. It was beautiful. It was golden and he made it look like it was shining, yet still dull with age. He perfectly captured the effect of the broken hands. And he replicated Clary's signature flawlessly.

Clary had gasped too, a delicate hand flying to her mouth. "It's so beautiful," she said.

Tom laughed and walked up behind us. "Thank you, though that's a lot on you too."

Clary was still staring at the design in the mirror. Then she suddenly squinted at it. "You did not!" She ran around me to look at the real tattoo. She gasped and pointed directly at her copied script. "Jonathan Christopher Herondale, you sneaky little-"

I laughed. "You don't like it?"

"It's embarrassing!" she hissed.

Tom put a hand on her shoulder. "Don't be embarrassed to put your name on your work. It's wonderful."

She shook her head, adamant. "But it's not-"

Tom gave her a smile similar to the one I'd received earlier. "Yes, it is. I just traced your picture and colored it. This," he gestured to my arm, "is all from your head. That's impressive."

Clary was so red she could give a tomato a run for it's money. "Thank you," she said.

Tom clapped my back. "We just have to get this covered up and then you're all set. It wasn't too bad was it?"

I shrugged. "No, not really. Not enough to stop me from getting another."

"That's what I like to hear!" He covered my tattoo with a piece of black plastic stuff and gave me all the instructions on how to take care of it. Then I handed him over the $300 I had been saving up for this. He handed it to Sarah, and she put it in a cash register, writing something down next to my name in their books.

Finally, he walked Clary and I to the door. "You're a good kid, Jace. If you ever need anything-and I don't just meant another tattoo-you know where I'm at. And you," he turned to Clary, "you let me know if you ever change your mind about being a tattoo artist."

Clary laughed. "Will do."

I gave Tom a 'bro-hug' as Clary often calls it. "Thank, man. Really."

Sarah snapped her gum from the counter. "Bye, guys!"

We both waved and walked out the door.

As soon as we were in the car Clary glared at me. "You're a sneaky bastard, you know that?"

I winked at her. "I've been called worse."

Clary turned the car on, and the engine and her laugh purred together in harmony. "Oh, trust me-I know."

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So, I'm going to go watch Reign now because it is so flippin good! But if any of you watch it already, NO SPOILERS! I'm only like, six episodes in. Anyway, please let me know what you thought! You're reviews all make my day! And don't forget to say what state you're from! Or country, if you aren't from the US-It'd be cool if I had a bunch of foreign followers!

I've been having a hard time getting into a fan fiction story, so if you guys review, I'll go to your profiles and check out your stories! But only if I know the things they're about, obviously.

Love always,

YesIWriteForFun