geckosarefuckingcute

[geckosarefuckingcute]

You will love parts of your writing that other people overlook, or actively dislike. At the same time, others will find themselves in your work in ways you don’t expect. 

People’s favourite parts might be those you struggled with most. Ones you considered deleting. 

[geckosarefuckingcute]

Reblog if

It’s 104% okay to come to your DM and just say, “Hi, can we be friends?” And then start asking you random questions.

[geckosarefuckingcute]

I have about 6 followers but I do care about all 6 of you ^^

this is the offical ‘i care’ symbol this is how it works: basically you reblog this and your followers know that you care and that they can message you about anything anon or not and you will reply back or at least look at there message. if you care about your followers please reblog

[geckosarefuckingcute]

[Prompt from @weirdprompts ]

"I'll have you know that I have a masters degree in making people cry"

he said as he swung around to face her.

She was stubborn and would not leave him alone. "Well then," she began. "I suppose I should consider myself quite lucky that it is not a doctorate degree" She looked to his face, hoping for some sort of a reaction. If he had been surprised by her reply, his expression showed no evidence of it. Instead, he smiled.

"I suppose you are right. Though I would not stick around me if I were you, darling. Only a lunatic would tie themselves to someone as repulsive and disliked as myself." She never quite understood why he always described himself as such, but either way, she loved his presence and his recklessness and she longed to be a part of it, and so she knew that asking him personal questions like that would only make him push her away.

"I am quite offended," she turned away from him and began to walk down the narrow dirt road "that you would consider me anything less than a lunatic."

He had rushed to catch up with her in order to walk alongside her and at this, he let out a chuckle. It was uncharacteristic of him to laugh so easily, but she was happy she got to hear it regardless.

He stopped laughing and gave her the most serious look he could muster. "You do realise what that means, Elizabeth. For you to join me would be to put you in grave danger."

She paused to think for a moment.

"If by " grave danger" you mean "exciting adventures", then yes, I know exactly what that means."

He smirked at her and replied "Well answered. I think I might grow to like you Elizabeth." His expression changed slightly, only for a split second, but she noticed it.

He looked pensive, as if he were deep in thought. "You hesitated."

"What?"

"You hesitated, Elizabeth. Why is that?" His tone didnt hint at anything besides genuine curiosity. She smiled at him.

"I did not hesitate, I was just thinking. Surely I am allowed to think of how I reply to things?"

"Perhaps, but if you have to think about it, then you are not all that interesting."

Elizabeth made a face at this. "You cannot be serious. If I were to not think at all, then I would be quite boring, don't you think?"

"Perhaps." He replied, trying hard to hide the grin on his face to no avail.

They stopped walking. He turned to face her and tucked a stray lock of her dark hair behind her ear. Elizabeth blushed at this but he did not seem to notice. His golden brown eyes sparkled under the moonlight.

"Elizabeth. Will you do me the honor of accompanying me on my journeys? Will you do me the honor of participating in many a dangerous and exciting adventure? I know it is too much to ask but-"

She cut him off abruptly. "Alexander. I will accompany you to wherever it is you wish to go and help you with whatever challenges you wish to take on."

He seemed stricken by this for a second but quickly regained his composure. He smirked mischievously at her.

"Then what are we waiting for?"

[geckosarefuckingcute]

I hate feeling obliged to do specific things. Its almost like routine has me tied down to it. Like if I tried to escape it and do something different for one day, that somebody would question me for doing so. In all honesty, I hardly believe anybody actually cares what time of the day I go to sleep at or what time I wake up at, yet when I stay up late until I hear birds chirping outside my window I almost feel like as if I've dissapointed someone.

[geckosarefuckingcute]

Looking in the mirror, I like to pretend I'm all the things I ever wished to be. An author of fantasy novels, a qualified surgeon, a supermodel, a YouTuber. I imagine myself being interviewed and answering questions about myself that people would be interested in when your famous. It's quite fascinating how people don't care much for the little things you like or do until you become famous and all those details suddenly matter.

[geckosarefuckingcute]

I sometimes wish I could be a character in a novel. One of those courageous yet beautiful young girls that appear in fairytales. I imagine what it would be like if someone were to describe me in a story. Would they begin by describing my personality and attitude to life? Or my physical appearance first? Would a writer take note of little things that I do that I don't notice? And would they somehow make me seem like a much more interesting person than I am?

In a lot of stories, authors tend to make the main character unique and that tends to be the reason that they succeed in doing whatever it is they set out to do, whether it is slaying a dragon or winning over the heart of a gentleman or taking over France with an army of well armed men. And even though their specialness, and what makes them to different to others is exactly the reason they manage to do such things, I still want to be like them.

Which would not make me unique at all.

[geckosarefuckingcute]

Also me: *continues to read them*

Me: *reading books till 4:00*

Me: *to books* Look what you made me do.

[geckosarefuckingcute]

“You owe them nothing; you have cared for them and helped them and they know you as who you are. None of us owe every piece of our soul’s history to another.”

— Gwyn ap Nudd (Queen of Air and Darkness)

[geckosarefuckingcute]

Sometimes I feel like my tongue is glued to the bottom of my mouth, and what makes it worse is that is happens at the worse times. I'm afraid of what comes out of my mouth. I dont want to hurt the people that I love.

Sometimes I can't take pictures of myself even if I've been standing in front of my phone camera for an hour. I get frustrated and leave it. It's different when someone you love wants to see a picture of you. I try and try to take a picture that looks decent but I hate all of them. I can't do it. I did it once and had a panic attack afterwards because I couldn't bear to think about how stupid and pathetic I looked. They tell me it looks nice but I still feel pathetic. I don't like feeling that way. They don't understand it. I wish they did.

[geckosarefuckingcute]

In most stories, the main character falls in love with a handsome young man with light blue eyes the colour of cornflowers and bright blonde locks that glimmer under the moonlight like some sort of silver platter. In my story, the love of my life has beautiful brown chocolate skin that almost makes me wish I could devour him. His eyes, the rich colour of honey that I would gladly drown in. His smile, which doesn't show nearly as much as I wish it would, is like the sun itself, radiant and warm, and makes my insides flutter like the delicate wings of thousands of butterflies at once. Perhaps I once thought that the man I would fall in love with would be something like the ones in fairytales. I have since learned that that is not how everyone's story might end. I see the beauty in him because I love him, even if others might choose to turn a blind eye to the beauty that he truly is and to the pure heart that he has, that has so much capacity for love.