#clary.txt

[teddystudies]

moving my desk to my window was the best choice i’ve made all year honestly

[sapphism]

⇏ 💌 @wellward​ asked: ♫ – A hug while dancing, for Clary!

💌💌 hugs meme. ( selective )

I--have to warn you. ( Clary says. ) I’m not--I’m not a....very good dancer. ( She’s avoiding eye contact, but she keeps swaying, and her hands stay at the small of Mary’s back. ) 

Never have been. ( She can’t really hear the music, anyway. It’s so quiet it blends in with the air conditioning in her ear. ) It isn’t--whoops-- ( Clary’s miscalculated her movements, and they accidentally bump knees. ) See? ( She chuckles. Her smile lingers, and she brings Mary closer until they’re fully embracing. 

She loves her this near: her warmth, the pins glinting at her forehead in that elegant updo, her faint aura of rose-vanilla. When they pull away, Clary lifts one hand to adoringly brush her knuckles against her cheek. ) I’m sorry, I--I really can’t help myself. ( She’s not sure she wants to, either. )

[prevsapphism]

⚓️🌫open. 

You’re wrong. ( Clary is not looking up from her paper, where she’s been whiling away the past three and a half hours annotating and highlighting. ) I’m not--I’m not falling for that again. You’re trying to trick me. ( But she is not unsmiling, either-- she’s just huffed a quiet chuckle out of her nose, and the corner of her mouth twitches bemusedly, eager to unfold into laughter. ) That’s not a word. 

[teddystudies]

mmm that sweet sweet burnout

days until a level resits: 27

[teddystudies]

i’m gonna use this blog again, to track my progress. i don’t know how long i have until my exams, i don’t know what i’ll be able to achieve in that time. i don’t know if i’ll be able to undo the damage to my school career, but i do know i’m going to try.

i got BCD on A Level results day. I know I’m capable of better than that, and i’m sitting my exams as soon as I can to prove it.

fuck the aesthetic. i’m getting the grades i deserve.

[sapphism]

“All these kisses” for a gal pal of your choice for clary

⇏  💌 who remembers what this is from not me. @afraidofchange ♡ no longer accepting!

no. 8: jaw kiss.

( Clary tosses her hand towel into the laundry basket. ) That storm really, uh. Really came out of nowhere, huh?

( Did it really, Clary? Or did it catch you by surprise, because you got too wrapped up in listening to Stella?

In addition to being ruggedly handsome and hilarious, Stella is the best storyteller Clary's ever met. She makes it so easy to hang on her every word, gesturing as vividly as an orchestra conductor, and yet, totally unpretentiously. Every one is like listening to a tall tale. Clary always has half a mind to ask if they really happened - or quietly fact-check herself when she’s alone, maybe - but by the end, she can never remember to. She forgets every time; for laughing too hard. 

This time, she didn’t just forget to ask about those four flat tires Stella was talking about as they walked the short gravel path home - but to check the weather, too. Clary caught Stella point out a raindrop, but it didn’t quite register until bucketfuls poured down around them, drenching them immediately. 

Then, giggling, they’d had no choice but to scurry inside. ) 

I swear I didn’t know it would rain. ( Clary mutters to herself, from where she’s sat on the floor. She’d insisted Stella take the couch for herself.

 She pretends to watch the rain patter down outside, but she’s really gazing at Stella’s reflection in that big bay window - lying on her back, damp hair dashed against the pillow, formidable profile facing the ceiling. Clary should offer her something to drink. Right? 

She doesn’t. Instead, she scoots backward just a little, so she’s flush with the sofa leg, tips her head back, and pecks her jaw with a smile. 

There are far worse people to wait out bad weather with. ) 

[sapphism]

⚓️🌫open.

( The lumpy, misshapen pile of pale yellow frosting on the plate in Clary’s hands is...It’s a cake. Legally. By definition. A spectacularly ugly one. ) I didn’t know what you liked, so. Can’t go wrong with vanilla, hey? ( Splotched all over with clumsy red hearts. ) I don’t bake much, but-- I did it for you.

( A beat, and Clary wipes a streak of flour from her cheeks. ) I missed you so much. ( The cake even says so, in questionably-spaced red candy letters: WELCoME HOME. I MIsSEDYOU. AAAASHIT. )

[sapphism]

✿ for clary or lindy, whoever inspires u most, from elise? she's like 😊😊😊😊😊😊😊😊 the whole time. exactly that face.

⇏ 💌 fluff actions meme ; @gutsymmetry ♡ accepting, selectively!!

…receiving a bouquet of flowers from your muse.

Ah. ( Clary gathers the bouquet awkwardly, crossing her arms around it like a bundle of laundry. ) I’m– ( I’m allergic, she wants to say. She isn’t. It’s just her pre-loaded reply whenever she’s offered flowers. 

Kit wanted a vaseful everywhere people would see– one in the living room, one in the dining room, and one in the kitchen. She always replaced them every week, and they never hurt anyone….so Clary let her, as compromise for living in that haunted, gloomy light. 

She’d just gone from ‘not minding’ to ‘growing fond of’ the flowers when Kit left, and, well. It never felt right when Clary tried to do it. 

The bouquet’s paper wrapping crinkles in her arms. Clary takes a halting, quiet breath in, resetting, and tries again. ) I’m….very appreciative. Thank you. ( She is. How can she not be? Clary’s not a monster. 

Elise is so small and gentle, with her fluffy grey hair like a cat’s tail and her eyes all twinkly. The afternoon breeze catches her patterned scarf, and Clary looks from its pattern to the purple blossoms in her arms, realising– ) 

Did you uh, did you match ‘em on purpose?