shutupwomangetonmypurplehorse:

allyykatt:

 

I’m a lesbian so i must have a crush on every girl i see.

I have alot of guy friends so i must be fucking every single one of them.

I smile alot, so i must have the perfect life.

I listen to reggae, so I must be a stoner.

My opinion matters, so I must be a bitch.

I’m comfortable with my body, so I get around?

I’m friends with a lot of guys, so I’ve must have hooked up with all of them.

I like to help out, so I must be a suck up.

I’m black, so I must be ghetto.

I’m black, so I must be stupid.

I’m Mexican, so I must be low class.

I’m bisexual, so I must get around.

I’m straight up blunt, so I must be a bitch.

I like to drink, so I must be an alcoholic.

I don’t hang out with guys, so I must be a lesbian.

I cut myself so I must be emo.

I’m bisexual, so none of my girl friends can feel safe.

I laugh and smile, so I cannot be depressed.

I like spending my day at home, so I don’t have any friends

I am gay, so i must be bullied

I am trans, so I must be a freak.

Most of my friends are dudes, so I must be a tomboy.

I’m on Tumblr, so I must have zero friends in real life

I’m a Muslim, so I must be a terrorist

I make alot of mistakes so I must be stupid/retarded.

I strongly defend LGBT so I must be gay.

I’m from a broken family, so I must be a rebel.

I like rasta colors, so I must smoke weed.

I’ve had sex, so I must be a slut.

I’ve made mistakes, so I must be untrustworthy.

I really love him, so I must hold on.

I’m a Filipino, so I must be a maid.

I really love him, so I must be taken for granted.

I’m a Politician, so I must be corrupt.

I’m Blonde, so I must be really stupid.

I’m wearing a black shirt, so I must be emo.

I wear make up, so I must be a flirt.

I make alot of mistakes, so I must be hated.

I am a teenager, so I must be misunderstood.

“Forever reblogg”.

Wow this

You forgot, I am white, so I must be racist

Possibly BBL or GTG- I don’t feel so good.

I owe Tony and Jason. Already in my drafts.

-Kris

Another one? “And you are..?”

playboywithagoldenass:

keepcalmandwebsling:

playboywithagoldenass:

keepcalmandwebsling:

“I,” Peter started but he didn’t want to exactly say the truth. Hi, my name’s Peter and I can climb walls and websling. Besides from sounding really crazy, he didn’t want to let anyone especially a stranger know too much about him. Hell, he didn’t even want to  introduce himself if that were possible but on normal circumstances, if the other person introduced him or herself first, he’s let loose a little and respond politely.

“I don’t know,” he said, shrugging. His brows knitted, lips arched downwards. What the hell am I doing here?

“Name’s Peter,” he allowed. “And you are?”

Tony snorted incredulously, leaning against the desk as he took off his muscle shirt. It being hot as it is inside, Tony couldn’t afford any air conditioning inside the room. It could tamper with his projects. “You don’t recognize me, Peter?” He drawled with his eyebrows raised, finding no reaction other than a blank stare, he sighed, “Tony Stark, billionaire playboy philanthropist and part time hero called Iron-Man.” he wiped his hands, “Which is why I’m gonna go straight to the point. Who and what are you? Because no normal person could get through my security without getting his ass fried off or turning off the alarms.”

Walking towards the mini fridge, he opened it and took out a can of beer before pausing, an idea forming in his head. “Heads up.” he called out before launching the beer at the kid’s head at top speed.

With his spider abilities, Peter caught the bottle without breaking a sweat. Ugh, wrong move. Now he was on to him. Peter didn’t really want to say anything but since this was the Iron-Man, maybe he could let this pass too.

“Couldn’t really recognize you with the suit,” he replied, smirking. It wasn’t a lie. He really couldn’t. “And how sure are you? Maybe your system isn’t really as good as you think.”

 ”Thanks but,” he looked at the drink at hand and threw it back to Tony. “I’m not much of a drinker.”

Catching the can swiftly, Tony stared at the boy, his head tilted to the side as he thought of all the possibilities of Peter’s identity. Peter could be a good guy or a bad guy and Tony wouldn’t even know. But considering the fact that this guy didn’t reek of I-want-revenge or anything equally demented, he decided to trust his gut and to not put on the Mark II before getting this kid to the nearest prison. 

“I’m pretty sure I’m eighty percent of the news these days, Pete. You’d surely know this face.” He gestured to his face, “Since, you know, the news anchors love saying shit like, ‘Tony Stark, also known as Iron-Man, the handsome billionaire blah blah blah.’” 

He had to raise a brow. “You have quite the ego, Mr. Stark.” And I don’t like it. It reminded him of too much of those jerks who bullied him before.

“But I am a fan of the suit so,” Peter admitted then shrugged. “I’m mostly… hitting the books and taking pictures of the mundane. But I’m pretty sure eighty percent of the news is about you.”

He paused, and thought for a while. “Maybe twelve?”

fulminat-a:

keepcalmandwebsling:

A lot of people come and go around these parts of New York and Peter didn’t really care much for them. It was New York after all— the city that never sleeps. It was also the city where a lot of different people accumulate. Every now and then, there was one face that he found interesting. Most of the time, it was just because they were staring so much that he couldn’t ignore his spider sense.

When Peter saw this particular face, he adjusted his glasses for the nth time ever since he got them and greeted, “Hello, I suppose.”

New York City— the cast of Glee had been here once and ran around with a camera following them, and almost every movie about young adults dreaming about a bigger future was set here. Jason decided to hit the town, since he was already bunking at Camp Half-Blood over in Long Island. With hands shoved into the pockets of a football jacket, the blonde wandered aimlessly around the city with the hippest and greatest, the most talented and the most dramatic— shit, was that Oprah Winfrey?

He nearly stopped to stare, but instead bumped into a skinny guy with these bulky glasses that spelled out dweeb.

Not that Jason Grace was any less of one.

“Oh. Hey man, sorry about that. Kind of new to New York.”

He nodded acknowledged him. His eyes studied the company at hand— blonde hair, blue eyes. Peter estimated that he would be around six feet, more or less.

“It’s fine.” Peter allowed. His senses weren’t exactly telling him that this guy over here was dangerous but there was something about him, something radiating from him that made him feel uneasy. Like he was potential danger but not actual danger? Either way, he didn’t want to risk it. “What’s your name?”