guys did you know


Rumors: Arkham!Joker x Harley Quinn

I should just say right now that if you have never played the Arkham City video this is not going to make very much sense. But my lovely wife, @sewer-angel , requested it and I was more than happy to oblige. Enjoy everyone! - J.xx

“Did you know that Quinn used to be a guy?” one thug said as the patrol of the outside of the hideout.

“Where the hell did you hear something like that?” another grunted, looking around to make sure they weren’t being overheard.

“I was on patrol with Syd last night and he was telling me about it. How he found out, I have no fucking clue,” the first thug shrugged.

“…Does that make Boss one a’ those guys who has a fetish for other guys who became girls?” the second asked with a smile before laughing.

Little did they know that they were, in fact, being overheard, and by the last person they would probably want eavesdropping on them. Harley Quinn herself.

Hiding around the corner of the building, she listened closely as two of Mistah J’s goons chatted as they kept a lookout. Feeling the tears begin to prick the corners of her eyes, she turned and ran back into the steel mill, heading back up to her puddin’s office.

Out of breath and tears coming more freely now, she took a deep breath before softly knocking. Everything was quiet for a few moments before she heard his coughing erupt once again. Frowning, she immediately forgot her own problems and thought about how sick Mistah J has been getting these past few weeks. He’s changed too the more sick he gets. He’s been starting to do things he never would have done before. Giving Harley more responsibilities, not hitting her as much. She was beginning to get real worried about her puddin’, she hoped the bat could make due on his promises.

WHAT!” Mistah J shouted before falling into a fit of coughs again.

Slowly opening the door, Harley let herself inside before quietly closing the door behind her. She kept to the opposite side of the room so he couldn’t see right away that she had been crying.

“Oh hello, pooh. What do you need?” he asked, looking up from the papers in front of him.

“I, um… I just wanted to, uh, tell you something, puddin’,” she stammered, twisting her boot into the floor nervously. “But if you’re busy I can go…”

“No, no, this can wait,” he said, expecting her to go on.

Taking another deep breath to keep herself from crying any more, she opened her mouth to say what the guards said, but Mistah J interrupted her before she got the chance to speak.

“Get over here so I can actually talk to you, pooh. I don’t want to shout,” he instructed, coughing once more.

Crossing the room, she stopped in front of his desk, keeping her head down because she could feel a new wave of tears coming. He instantly picked up on her hiding her face, making him scowl.

“Don’t hide from Daddy, I want to see that mug of yours until I croak.”

“Oh puddin’, please don’t talk like that!” she cried, lifting her head up as the tears fell.

“I’m just speaking truth, pooh,” he shrugged before noticing her wet face and streaking makeup, “What’s wrong?”

“N-nothing, it’s nothing. I shouldn’t have bothered you, puddin’. I’ll just go,” she spoke quickly, turning on her heel to escape Mistah J’s stare.

But even in his sickness, he was still faster than her, up out of his chair and grabbing onto her arm before she could make it out of the room. Dragging her back over to his desk, Mistah J pushed Harley onto the floor beside his chair and sat back down.


“But puddin’, it’s nothing-”

Giving her a hard glare, Mistah J growled sending him into another coughing fit. Smacking Harley upside the head, he grunted, “Stop making me cough, you twat.”

“Sorry, puddin’…” Harley apologized looking at the floor before taking yet another deep breath, readying herself, “So… I was making my rounds around the steel mill, making sure everyone was doing what they were supposed ta’ be when I came upon two thugs talking about me… and you.”

Mistah J just watched her curiously, waiting for her to finish her story.

“A-and they weren’t saying very nice things, puddin’,” her breath hitched as more tears came the more she told what happened, “T-they said I used to be a guy… and they said you had a fetish for guys turned girls. Then they s-started laughing.”

Without saying a word, Mistah J bent over in his chair, scooping Harley into his arms and bringing her back up into his lap. He smoothed a hand over her hair before pinching her sides, making her squeal.

“Remember who they were, pooh. Daddy’ll take care of them later for saying such mean things about us,” he cooed before smirking at her, “I know that you never were a guy. I think I’ve done enough looking, feeling, tasting-”


“-to know that, and shouldn’t that be all that matters? Hm?”

“Y-yeah… I guess you’re right, puddin’…” she agreed, bouncing one leg up and down.

Turning her so that she was now straddling his waist, he murmured huskily, “How about we prove again how much of a guy you’re not?”

anonymous asked:

Did you know some guys in facebook are sharing a fake screenshot of the description of the next episodes? And people are believing it!

Sigh. Facebook, why do you keep spreading fakes that then I have to disprove!

Omg guys! I reached 100

So, now that I have reached 100, I’m thinking of doing a big thing for you guys, but what do you want it to be? Give me suggestions!

Thanks for promoting me @i-am-content-with-this-content you are awesome!

Thanks for following me everybody! I love you all!! I don’t know what I did to deserve you guys.

I cannot express how much i love y'all!! I love you all more than I love Hamilton!! (Thats really saying something)

cresobia  asked:

So James tell me, what's the worst thing you guys ever did to Snivellus. I'm very keen to know 😜

James: Muahahahaaha great question!  We once put a charm on his robes so that to him everything would seem normal but to everyone else he was naked.

Sirius: That was disgusting.

James: Yeah, it really was *wipes away tear of joy*.  Also, we spent a whole month of Potions swapping Snivellus’s potions with Remus’s and he kept failing and not understanding why.

Remus: So that’s why my potions suddenly got good?

James: Yep!

Remus: Darn it!

anonymous asked:

Did you know that if you grab a guy's ass they would become flustered as all fuck? That's interesting because most men tend to do it the opposite way around. Talk about some good ASS!

DUDE I KNOW. I grabbed my friends ass back in high school and he just jerked up 😂😂 like guys have great asses as well like damn like my ass is regular nothing special I was blessed and cursed with breast so a guy having a nice ass is good lmao

by the way i downloaded zoombinis on my phone and its such a fucking nostalgia trip

did you guys know i named myself tyde bc one of my randomly generated zoombinis was called that and i liked it

ok so Leia was heading to Obi-wan before the Battle of Scarif, and before she ever knew she or anyone would have the plans. It wasn’t just a last resort, “vader’s bout to get us we gotta go somewhere” decision. the fact that she was going to Obi-wan is probably the reason she was with the rebels and not on Alderaan.

so think in the context that a) Bail was knowingly sending his daughter, who has the genes of one of the most powerful force users ever, to go get a Jedi, b) Bail knew that he was sending the biological child of Anakin to Anakin’s former master and friend, c) Obi-wan definitely would knows who Leia is, d) Bail knows that Obi-wan is keeping an eye on Luke.

I’m not saying Bail Organa knowingly sent his force sensitive daughter to the only fully trained Jedi he knew how to get in touch with and also her force sensitive brother, but Bail Organa knowingly sent his force sensitive daughter to the only fully trained Jedi he knew how to get in touch with and also her force sensitive brother. Because he and Mon Mothma decided things had gotten to this point.

in the iphone calendar you can go back into the thirteenth century and beyond???? i didn’t even scroll back as far as it went because i was scared of break the space time continuum what is this did you guys know that disease ridden peasants woke up on january sixth fucking 1207 and it was a fucking saturday

Dear Strange Man on the Train,

At 11 o’clock at night, you moved across the train car to sit far too close to two girls about half your age so you could interrupt our conversation to tell us how pretty we are. We said thank you, have a good night, and went back to our conversation.

You interrupted us a second time to say that you didn’t want to bother us, but we needed to hear it, how pretty we are. We said cool, thanks, have a good night, and went back to our conversation.

You interrupted us a third time to say you wouldn’t say anything else, you didn’t want to bother us, you just had to let us know. We said have a good night, and went back to our conversation.

This seemed to perplex you. You came all that way across a train car to bestow upon us this life altering knowledge - the fact we were pretty - and all you got was a polite thank you? You grumbled about gratitude, about how you better not end up on facebook, were we putting you on facebook? Why was my friend looking at her phone? Was she putting you on facebook? All you’d done was tell us we were pretty.

At this point, my friend says, “Sir, we’re trying to have a conversation. Please don’t be disrespectful.”

This was when you got angry. Disrespectful? YOU? For taking the time out of your day to tell us we were pretty? Did we know we were pretty?

“Yes, we knew,” says my friend.

Well, that was the last straw. How dare we know we were pretty! Sure, you were allowed to tell us we were pretty, but we weren’t allowed to think it independently, without your permission! And if we had somehow already known - perhaps some other strange man had informed us earlier in the day - we certainly weren’t allowed to SAY it! Where did we get off, having confidence in ourselves? You wanted us to know we were pretty, sure, but only as a reward for good behavior. We were pretty when you gifted it upon us with your words, and not a moment before! You raged for a minute about how horrible we were for saying we thought we were pretty, how awful we turned out to be.

I took a page out of your book and interrupted you. “Sir, you said you wouldn’t say anything else, and then you kept talking,” I said. “You complimented us, we said thank you, and we don’t owe you anything else. It’s late, you’re a stranger, and I don’t want to talk to you. We’ve tried to disengage multiple times but you keep bothering us.”

At this point, our train pulled into the next stop. My friend suggested we leave, so we got up and went to the door.

Seeing your last chance, you lashed out with the killing blow. “I was wrong!” you shouted at us as we left, “You’re ugly! You’re both REALLY UGLY!”

Fortunately, since our worth as human beings is in no way dependent upon how physically attractive you find us, my friend and I were unharmed and continued on with our night. She walked home; I switched to the next train car and sat down.

So, strange man, I know you’re confused. I don’t know if you’ll think about anything I said to you, but I hope you do learn this: when you give someone something - a gift, a compliment, whatever - with stringent stipulations about how they respond to it, you are not giving anything. You are setting a trap. It is not as nice as you think it is.

But you’ll be happy to know that when I sat down in the next car, a strange man several seats over called, “Hey, pretty girl. Nice guitar. How was your concert?”

“Thanks. Good,” I said, then looked away and put on my headphones, the universal sign for ‘I’d like to be left alone.’

“Wow. Fine. Whatever. Fucking bitch,” he said.