Unwanted suitors? Not sure if you’re on a date? To nice to turn him down? I can help! With nearly four years of experience sabotaging romantic encounters, I’m the uncomfortable silence you deserve… and now, I’m offering my services professionally.
Bring me along as a platonic bufferzone on unwanted or ambiguous dates with suitors you’re not interested in but don’t know how to turn down. Guaranteed to kill the mood or your money back!
Basic services include: Terrible puns, poorly-timed jokes, casual physical displays of affection, bringing up unappealing facts about you (to be established or fabricated ahead of time), including myself in attempts at cuddling, domineering the conversation, irritating laughter, talking about I may have finally found an apartment for rent that’s big enough to house all of your cats, subtly making remarks about how nice it is that you’ve made a new friend.
More advanced services: Creating diversions (available at tiers 1, 2, and 3; examples include pouring water over my head, impromptu hula dancing, and triggering alarms), intimate displays of physical affection, accidentally spilling drinks on your suitor’s clothing, laughing at everything your suitor says while drinking until I manage to time it so that water comes out of my nose and sprays onto them.
Package deals:
The Gay Best Friend:What it sounds like. Because this persona runs the risk of stereotype and exploitation, I prefer to keep this subtle. Willing to engage in mild flirtation with your suitor. Please use discretion when requesting this service; the intention is to make him realize that your feelings towards him are platonic. Do not even consider this package if he is aggressively homophobic.
The Imposing Older Brother:I scowl, smirk, and huff judgmentally. Comes in two flavors: the Violent Ex-Con and the Insufferable Elitist. Can flex my physical or intellectual muscles as needed.
The Irritating Younger Brother: I bring a gaming device along, snicker rudely and roll my eyes whenever he speaks, complain about the time, chew with my mouth open, shrug indifferently, prop my sneakers on his chair, wipe my nose on my hand, and bluntly interrupt the conversation whenever it strays out of your comfort zone.
The Priest:Why the heck would you bring your priest on a date?! I don’t know, and neither will your suitor! Obfuscate them into backing off. If that doesn’t work, I will recite dry Biblical passages until they are driven away by crushing boredom or fear of Hell.
The Son from The Future:Depending on the age difference, I can also pose as your Son from the Current Era. Will dress in conspicuously unusual clothing (ex. holographic baseball cap, life preserver, roller skates, VISOR-like sunglasses), continuously ask for the date and time, and anxiously mutter about how it’s almost time for you to ditch this place and meet my father for the first time.
The Enslaved Zombie Ex-Boyfriend:I don milky, semi-opaque contact lenses and follow you around mindlessly, with jerky, unnatural movements. I am at your beck and call, controlled from beyond the grave by your occult powers – the fate of all the boyfriends who displease you.
The Demon Prince: I wear a stylish fawn suit, soft kidskin gloves, and silver cuff-links etched with strange symbols. I have a ring or a cane decorated with the head of a ram. I say little, but smile often. Now and then, I pull out a little silver hourglass from a chain around my neck and examine it, tapping my foot, my fingers, or my cane impatiently. I adopt a curious and subtle accent and ask him to appraise his immortal soul. I carry a sleek briefcase rigged to emit a bright light if I crack it open a hair. Optional: I carry a cube of sulfur in my pocket for the smell.
The Mulder: A proven classic. I periodically derail the conversation with crackpot conspiracy theories, the nature of reality, extraterrestrial intelligence, and ESP. May accuse your suitor of being a Reptilian, or demand that they feel the scar where I had an alien implant removed. Insist that we change tables because this one is bugged and we are under surveillance by the secret shadow government.
The Fiance You Thought Was Lost at Sea: I burst through the door, dripping wet, with barnacle-encrusted clothing and a crab dangling from my ear lobe. I’ll smell of brine and have a haunted look in my eye. This will require some acting skills from you; you’ll need to throw yourself sobbing into my arms and cry, “I thought I’d lost you!” and I’ll hold you and mutter something about Davy Jones getting ahead of himself.
Other:I am happy to work with you to develop a persona specific to your unique needs and preferences.
Rates: Sliding scale, determined by me on a case-by-case basis. I want to make my services available to all who need them. Factors such as the relative heinousness of suitor is considered; affluent clients can generally expect to pay more as likelihood of physical or spiritual harm increases. For swanky dates in nice locations with minimal levels of danger, I typically ask only that you cover the cost of my meal, entrance fees, transportation, and other expenses.
IMPORTANT: Although I am prepared to deal with any number of eventualities, I am not a professional: bodyguard, assassin, exorcist, crocodile hunter, or escort. If you expect that any of these services will become necessary, I am happy to put you in touch with a specialist. ADDITIONALLY: If your suitor is non-human, please be upfront with this so that we can plan accordingly. We do not want a repeat of the events of Halloween 2012.
ADDENDUM 2014: I reserve the right to terminate our deal at any time. This is a exclusively a professional relationship, and any physical or romantic affection we may share may be considered performance and unrelated to my personal feelings. ADDENDUM 2015: If you are trying to orchestrate a set-up because you get off on watching your significant other jealously beat the crap out of perceived rivals, fuck you. Vengeance will be swift.
I have though about this extensively. EXTENSIVELY. I have wondered if animagi can only turn into animals that they are familiar with, or are animals native to the regions where they live. Imagine living in the UK and turning into a hippo or something. How could that ever be helpful?
For people who are wondering, this is a way that Remus Lupin’s life could’ve been EVEN SHITTIER than it was.
“I can’t believe you guys did this for me! You could’ve mentioned it!”
“Nah Moony, we wanted it to be a surprise,” Sirius said with a smile.
“Yeah, we can be mysterious too,” James grinned.
“I can’t wait to see what we transform into,” Peter chimed in excitedly.
Remus stood in anticipation as he watched his friends begin to work the complex animagus transformation. His eyes wide, his mouth open, he soon found himself standing in a room with a somewhat agitated elephant, a snapping lobster, and a really f*cking pissed off shark.
“Well….shit,” Remus muttered.
And thus was born Moony, Stampy, Pinchy, and Jaws.
I love when @fleamontpotter turns the weird bullshit in my head into awesome comics.
imagine the series exactly the same except these are true animagus forms of the marauders.
ron has a pet lobster instead of a rat.
harry sees an elephant instead of a dog that night he leaves privet drive. similarly crookshanks is seen hanging out with an elephant on hogwarts grounds at night.
james potter gets drunk one night and decides to battle the giant squid in his shark form to win lily’s affections.
‘jaws flopped again last night’
“Oh, for heaven’s sake, Sirius, Dumbledore said no!” A large grey elephant had appeared at Harry’s side as Harry clambered over the various trunks cluttering the hall to get to Mrs. Weasley. “Oh honestly,” said Mrs. Weasley despairingly. “Well, on your own head be it!” The great great grey elephant gave a joyful trumpet and gamboled around them, waving its trunk wildly, and chasing its own tail. Harry couldn’t help laughing. Sirius had been trapped inside for a very long time.”
I’ll see you, and I’ll raise you these:
“My God,” said Lupin softly, staring from Scabbers to the picture in the paper and back again. “His front claw…”
“What about it?” said Ron defiantly.
“He’s got a pincer missing,” said Black.
“Of course,” Lupin breathed. “So simple…so brilliant…he cut it off himself?”
“Just before he transformed,” said Black. “When I cornered him, he yelled for the whole street to hear that I’d betrayed Lily and James. Then, before I could curse him, he blew apart the street with the wand behind his back, killed everyone within twenty feet of himself–and scuttled down into the sewer with the other lobsters.”
“There was a huge sewer lobster problem that year,” Hermione gasped, eyes wide. “I read about it in Weird histories: London in the 1980s.”
* * * *
“If I’m proud of anything I’ve done this year, it’s how much you’ve learned…Tell me about your Patronus.”
“How d’you know about that?” said Harry, distracted.
“What else could have driven the dementors back?”
Harry told Lupin what had happened. When he’d finished, Lupin was smiling again.
“Yes, your father was always a really f*cking pissed off shark when he transformed,” he said. “You guessed right…that’s why we called him Jaws. That and he liked to terrorize punters on the River Cam.”
* * * *
“Your father is alive in you, Harry, and shows himself most plainly when you have need of him. How else could you produce that particular Patronus? Jaws awkwardly flopped around again last night.”
It took a moment for Harry to realize what Dumbledore had said.
“Last night Sirius told me all about how they became Animagi,” said Dumbledore, smiling. “An extraordinary achievement–not least, keeping it quiet from me. And then I remembered the most unusual form your Patronus took, when it air swam Mr. Malfoy down at your Quidditch match against Ravenclaw. That was pretty f*cking dope, by the way. Little shit deserved it.”
* * * *
And then the source of the light stepped out from behind an oak. It was a silver-white lady shark, moon-bright and dazzling, propelling itself over the ground, still silent, and leaving no trace in the fine powdering of snow. She swam up toward him, her beautiful head with its serrated, many rows of teeth glistening.
Harry stared at the creature, filled with wonder, not at her strangeness, but at her inexplicable familiarity. Perhaps he had seen her previously, during Shark Week programming.
* * * *
“But this is touching, Severus,” said Dumbledore seriously. “Have you grown to care for the boy, after all?”
“For him?” shouted Snape. “Expecto Patronum!”
From the tip of his wand swam forth the lady shark: She landed on the floor, darted strangely across the office, and soared out of the window. Dumbledore watched her flail away, and as her silvery glow faded he turned back to Snape, and his eyes were full of tears. Not of sadness though.
“After all this time?” he said, trying not to bust out laughing.
“Always,” said Snape.
Please! This is supposed to be a happy occasion. Let’s not bicker and argue over who killed who.
when u think about it the seven sons of feanor are like seven cardinal iterations of fanon snape: “torture porn,” “secretly survived the end of the war and is now a fry cook,” “lucius malfoy,” “angry but ostensibly well-meaning teenager,” fanon snape, surprisingly low-profile, and martyred
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