#yougeteven

[xaedificare]

harry potter? any cartoon verse?

SEND ME A FANDOM AND I’LL TELL YOU A CHARACTER                 I’D ROLEPLAY FROM THAT FANDOM.

[ Harry Potter it’s actually either Padma Patil, Sirius  Black, or Harry himself. Gosh, HP was my first RP  fandom! And as for cartoons, man. Okay. Don’t  laugh, but I would always play Goofy because he’s  amazing and I have the perfect FC. Ryan Stiles.  Boom. Awwyiss. ]

[oldfriiends-blog]

yougeteven​ !

                  mary flynn is an introvert. you wouldn’t be able to tell it by                   the inexplicable charm she pulls out of her ass when necessary,                   but people make her tired. specifically rich people, and teenagers,                   and her slowly-dying fanbase. it’s why, five years ago, she                   always sort of dreaded book signings. they were exciting; she                   loved the idea that so many people loved what she had written,                   but she hated the interactions. rapid fire, one after another.                   hundreds and hundreds of excited people with high expectations,                   in immediate succession. and she, in her big, plastic glasses,                   signing and chatting and putting on a show, and worrying that                   everything that could go wrong was going to go wrong. she would                   joke, shakily, after the fact, that she needed a drink. but it was                   only ever a joke. mary flynn at twenty-six didn’t drink.

                  mary flynn at thirty-one, however, is practically an entirely                   different person. people don’t come to her book signings                   anymore. she isn’t a bestseller anymore. her book is five                   years old, and there are bigger and better things on the                   market for readers to drool over. all that are left are her die-hards:                   a group of twenty or thirty fans she seems to see everywhere,                   hovering over her like a reminder -- you used to be a writer,                   mary. what ever happened to that? they’re why she dreads                   book signings now. not because of the anxiety that comes with                   having hundreds of fans, but because of the nostalgia that                   comes with having just a few. as yet another dreary event                   comes to an awfully uneventful end, mary flynn thinks,                   i need a drink. and then, but i really shouldn’t --                   and then, who’ll one glass of wine hurt? because, as much as                   she likes to ignore the fact, mary flynn at thirty-one does drink.                   and she’s starting to drink quite a lot.

                  she heads over to the bar with her hands deep in her sweater’s                   pockets, head low, as if trying to remain unseen. and, perhaps,                   in part, she is. she has a generally unsullied reputation as                   someone who never drinks, not even a drop, at risk of it                   appealing to her addictive personality. not that that’s stopped                   her lately -- it certainly wouldn’t stop her today. she sits at                   the bar and swiftly, quietly orders: ❝ merlot, please. thanks. ❞ and                   in a moment she’s got a tight grip on the stem of glass, very                   slowly sipping the drink as her eyes dart around the now nearly                   empty room. it’s hardly three in the afternoon and she’s drinking,                   alone, in a hotel bar. she nearly laughs at the cliché she’s become.