#nobigwin

[thetravelingtotoros]

Time to check the lotto! <so did we wn?> sorta...$12....#nobigwin #lotto #totoro

[slaysvampiresarchive-blog]

       She’d dreamt of this. She lost count of how many nights she had. Each one a snowflake, different and yet the same ---- Him. The constant among a stream of variables. In the night, her mind spun stories of a girl who was fated to save the world, and she had. She laid down her own life to save it. To save humanity.

        She’d saved the world, but couldn’t save her own. 

        It was a punishment. It had to be. To save him every night, to be in his arms ---- only to wake up and relive the worst day of her life, all alone. After all, it was her fault, wasn’t it? She’d killed him long before she ran a sword through him. Kissed him and killed him twice over. She’d been right that day; after everything was taken, she remained.

        Yet here she was all these months later. And here he was, too. She’d been skeptical, at first. How could she not be? He was feral, a force of nature. An animal, or so Giles had inadvertently led her to believe. She thought the world was trying to step up her punishment; to remind her of everything she lost. Everything she ruined.

         But he said her name and clutched her tightly, and God, it had to be him. Even in a state of disarray, he’d managed to protect her ----- but she hadn’t protected him. Tears streaked her cheeks, breath caught in her throat as she committed every detail of his touch to memory. If she was wrong, if she was seconds away from waking up alone for the hundredth time, she wanted to remember how this felt. How even the most desperate of touches set her skin aflame and made her heart beat rapid.

           When she was certain she could move, certain she could breathe without collapsing right beside him, she tentatively raised a hand to his head. Delicate fingers weaved themselves in dark locks, thumb stroking soft lines. Emerald hues, wide and glossy, fell to the figure kneeling before her.

            “ -------------- I’m here. I’m here, Angel.”

[slaysvampiresarchive-blog]

@buffyschampion & @visionofhotliness  YOU GUYS ARE BREAKING @nobigwin LMAO. it’s not angel’s fault he has the weird of the world on his forehead...

[slaysvampiresarchive-blog]

ANGEL.

He crossed his arms. Not defensively. It wasn’t a conversation worth that kind of righteous indignation, of course. “I knew him!“ And at her look, he amended, “Okay, I met him. Frank Sinatra was a werewolf. He talked to those dogs.”

     The skepticism her eyes held quickly dissipated, replaced by childlike gleam. “This conversation has officially taken a right turn at Creepy Boulevard and sailed on down to No Way Lane.” You can hear the smile in her voice, small hands planted firmly on her hips. “I mean, what did he even say to them? ‘Wooof-Wooof, let’s go pee on some trees’?”