BARACK: “Sooo…..ummmmm…..
TRUMP: ”……“
BARACK: ”……did you see ‘Suicide Squad’?“
TRUMP: "Um…uh, no. I’m not really a 'Star Wars’ fan.”
BARACK “………….Jesus Christ–”


Awkward Meeting
1. I had my headphones on, but I wasn’t listening to anything. Instead I was eavesdropping on your conversation, and oh my god you just mentioned me.

2. I snuck into an fancy event as dare, and it was going well until then someone threatened to call the cops on me, but you said you were my fiancée, so thanks?

3. You were singing and dancing when I pulled up to a red light, and I’m sorry for laughing, but keep going!  

4. My mom thinks you look like someone she used to know, so she dragged me around the mall and I’m pretty sure you know we are following you.

5. You got drunk and thought you climbed the fire escape to your balcony, but nope you at mine, so wanna share that bottle and you can stay the night.

  • Magnus: Michelangelo was great in bed.
  • Magnus: I know because I slept with him.
  • Magnus: Because I'm attracted to men.
  • Magnus: 'Cause I'm not straight.
  • Magnus: Like SUPER not straight!
  • Alec: .....
Girl Meets Awkward Moment

A Joshaya Fanfic

Story by: @hoffkk

Requested by: Anonymous

Prompt: Could you plz plz plz write a one shot where Maya is wearing Josh’s shirt or something and it’s completely innocent but The adults see it and they think that Maya and Josh slept together and coz of this they both are embarrassed and blushing.


Maya Hart walked into the Intro to Art classroom, feeling both nervous and excited.  When  her art teacher, Mr. Jackson, mentioned that some local universities were reserving spots in some of their entry level classes for high school juniors as part of a special program to promote post-secondary education, she jumped at the opportunity.  A couple different schools offered art classes, but of course Maya picked New York University.  Not just because a certain someone was a junior there, but because NYU was a great school for studying art and where she planned on applying next year.  Luckily, the art teacher at the university liked the piece she submitted and picked her right back.  It was like it was meant to be.

Maya glanced around the room that smelled like paint and clay and watched other students file in. They seemed to be picking seats at random and sitting down, so Maya shrugged and sat down in front of  the nearest wooden easel in the middle of the room. She smiled as she traced her hand along the oak edges of the easel and smoothed out the large white canvas staring back at her, then Maya began to reorganize the paints that sat along the easel’s ledge, undoing the ROYGBIV color palate it was preset in.  She was moving the yellow to the far end when a voice interrupted her.

“Maya?” Questioned an all too familiar voice.

Despite the familiarity of the voice, Maya was still shocked to hear it. Obviously, she knew he went to this university, but she never thought she’d actually see him, especially in Intro to Art.  So, turning her head in surprise, she simply and automatically repeated his sentiment.

“Josh?”  She queried then added, “What are you doing here?”

He gave her one of his boyish grins then replied, “It’s my university.  What are you doing here?”

“I asked you first.” Maya retorted cheekily as she crossed her arms over her chest.

“I have to take a certain number of art credits to graduate.  I’m not much of an artist, but I already took Intro to Music, and this sounded less painful than Intro to Theatre.” Josh explained, half-serious, half-joking.

“So, basically, you picked the lesser of two evils.”  Maya responded.

“Pretty much.” Josh nodded, putting his hands inside his jean pockets.  "Your turn. How did you wind up in this class?“

Maya quickly told him all about the program that her art teacher recommended and how she was accepted. Josh couldn’t help but smile at how she beamed with pride and talked with such enthusiasm.

"Well, congratulations. I’m really happy for you.” Josh answered truthfully.

Maya smiled back, but before she could respond, the teacher burst through the door.  She was a tall, skinny woman with short, gray hair that poofed out from her purple headband.  The professor, who had to at least be in her sixties, called out to the class, “Sorry, I’m late! Please, take your seats, take your seats.”

Maya noticed the professor was wearing jeans and combat boots with her purple blouse.  She smirked, immediately liking the woman. Maya couldn’t wait to learn from her. Unfortunately, her smile didn’t last long after hearing the chirp of another female voice.

“Hey, Josh, over here!” Called a pretty brunette from two rows up.  Her hair was long, straight and absolutely perfect just like her outfit, which consisted of a sweater and mini-skirt.  Maya thought the skirt was a weird choice for January, but it looked cute nonetheless, and the pale pink of her sweater looked great against her mocha colored skin tone.  "I saved you a seat.“  She finished, patting the stool beside her.

Maya suddenly felt deflated. She was officially jealous of mystery girl’s style, beauty, and access to Joshua Matthews.  By the way she was talking to him, they clearly knew each other. Who knew how many classes they had had together before or even had together now or maybe… maybe they knew each other outside of class.  Ugh… that was something Maya really didn’t want to think about.  She wasn’t stupid, Maya new that he probably hung out with college girls, that there were tons of them that paid him lots of attention. She just hated being reminded of that fact, and now Maya got to be reminded of it every Thursday for two whole hours.

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I’ve come to the realization that I have never shipped two people that realized they loved each other before I did.
—  Experienced by every single fangirl ever. 

The woods were dark and dangerous, full of enchantment and cruel to all who ventured too far in. There were witches that feasted on the bodies of the dead and gremlins and wolves with huge eyes and mouths full of rage and blood. Hungry creatures lived in the woods. Hungry for flesh and hungry for little girls who ventured off the path. This she has been told. This she should know. But she has had her first moon blood and she could not fear.  

It appeared just as she appears now, a startling and sudden red against the pure white of snow. It is the first mark to besmirch her but she does not know that now. All she knows is that she is a  vessel carrying unspeakable possibilities. She is the unbroken egg. She has within her the entrance to which leads to a world of creation. She moves within the confines of her virginity. She is a ceaseless construction of potentialities. She is near woman and she knows no fear. She has herself and she knows not how to shiver.

Still, she stills herself and treads carefully. There is an otherness to the woods that does not exist in the world of men and reason. A strange quality and silence that leaves her ill at ease and questioning everything she knows. It suddenly strikes her that she is the only living thing. It is a type of queer awareness meant for those who only have their thoughts buried in their head for company, not for little girls.  Just like any type of acknowledgment of  one’s awareness she is left feeling shaken and fearful for more than her life.

There is a sudden rustle of noise and she spins to face the intruder,  fishing for the knife her mother had pressed into her hand. A man comes out of the bushes and a white wolf follows near after him.  

She wants to scream but she was frozen in her fear. The man came out from the shadows and she focuses on his face. He is handsome and she flushes at the sight of him. He is handsome and older in a way that the boys in her village are yet to ever be. She senses a wildness in him that she one day will explore. A strange quality about him that she in  her near womanhood is on the cusps of discovering.

“Who are you?” She croaks out. The man does not smile and she relaxes ever so slightly. This is familiar. He is a Northern man and  Northern men show no joy, feel no happiness. They are as implacable and unmovable as winter itself. Her fear drains as she watches his handsome and shadowed face fall into the smoothness of ice. She is a child of Winter too and she understands the Northern way. She speaks their language of ice.

“Just a huntsman making his way through the forest,” his voice is deep and gravelly. She shivers at the sound of it, liking the way the words roll off his tongue and the way it floats in the air for but a moment.

“But you have a wolf with you,” she points out. The wolf is white with eyes that look like blood. It is silent and still but watches her carefully. The man shrugs and she watches him, wide-eyed and amazed by his lack of fear.

“His name is Ghost and he goes where I go,” the man’s says.

“And what of your name? What do I call you?” The man frowns but she ignores that, curiosity getting the better of her.

“Jon, my name is Jon Snow.” She smiles at the sound of his name and waits for him to ask for hers. He doesn’t.

“My name is Sansa,” she nearly gives him her last name but stops herself. Northernmen can be dangerous too and she is but a girl.  The man studies her carefully. His eyes flickering to her hair and then her eyes and then, so quick that she near missed it, to her lips.

“What’s a girl like you doing in the woods?”

“I’m going to see my granny but it seems that I’m now lost,” she lies. She knows this path as well as she knows the palm of her hands. “Would you be of great service to me and show me the way?” Jon narrows his eyes and watches her suspiciously. Excitement and anticipation mount as she waits for his answer. This is a new game in which the rules are hers.

“Didn’t your mother tell you to never trust a stranger?” He says gruffly but there’s the undertones of more. Something more that she wishes to have, to taste, to grasp in her hands. There’s something at play in these forests. Something beyond the usual enchantment and magic.

“I have a knife,” she tells him boldly. Jon raises an eyebrow and chuckles.

“I have a wolf.” His answer should send her running and strike her with fear and terror. It should make her feel weary and cause her to question herself. It does none of those things.

“Let us find out who is more likely to win then. Show me the way.” Jon studies her carefully. Still weary and suspicious but curious, curious and more.  She does not tremble under his stare. She stares back with all the boldness of someone close to becoming and discovering more.

“Fine, I’ll show you but what do I get if I show you?” She smiles at him and Jon looks more uncertain than before.

“A kiss,” she tells him quickly.  He scoffs and she laughs, not quite thrown off by his reaction.

“I don’t want your kiss.” She grins.  This game is one that is new to her but it is one that she wishes to conquer.  


I’ve been thinking about how some bantering between Stephen Strange and Tony Stark would go. I hope they do that in the next movie and I imagine it would be hilarious. I am interested in how you think it would go. -Requested by @punken316

“… So.”


The tension in the air was almost tangible. Maybe it was a bad idea to convince your new friend Stephen Strange to meet your good friend Tony Stark. But Stephen was a sorcerer, and could be a potential valuable member to the Avengers. After all, he already saved the world once. The only problem was getting past the awkward first-meeting stage.

Tony cleared his throat after a long, uncomfortable moment of silence. “… So you’re friends with (y/n), I see.”

Stephen kept his gaze even, like he was trying to stare into Tony’s soul. “Yes, that’s right.”

“That’s… cool.” Tony shifted in his chair. “And… how long did you say you knew each other for again?”

“A month.” 

“That’s… nice.” Tony turned to you. “And you trust this guy that you’ve met for a month, right?”

You nodded your head, “With my life. Stephen’s a good guy, Tony. You can trust me on that.”

“Mm.” He studied the sorcerer with contempt. It was all-too obvious that he didn’t like the guy. “So Stephen, tell me about yourself. (Y/n) mentioned you were a magician. Do you do, like, party tricks or something?”

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SB POT Date Tip

I thought this tip could help, if it wasn’t already obvious.

Make an OpenTable account with your SB name. Then, whenever you meet POTS for dinner dates you can make the reservation under your “name”, arrive a few minutes early to sit at the table and the hostess will lead your POT to your designated table.

This beats the awkwardness of having to meet and greet at the front by the hostess or playing the scavenger hunt game at the bar.

Once we have decided on the restaurant I always say “Okay I made the reservation for 8:15, just say _______ at the door!”

Classy and seamless :)

I still don’t get it. We used to read bed time stories about relationships made from suits of armor and maidens that needed to be saved– where did we go wrong? When did we lose our way? I still don’t understand. We used to be so close, but the time that we put into this tore us apart, we’re still trying to make sense of the memories that won’t budge– darling, you’ve been nudging at me again, I guess it’s really awkward when we meet… I guess we’ve changed, but you know something? We were never going to make it, we’ve got so much to learn. We were meant to touch, we were meant to feel all of this heartache– and that’s all…
—  The thing about us