Buffy and Faith are living it up in Cleveland, over thirty and regularly trying to convince their neighbors they're really just roommates, not "roommates", no matter what Faith wants. Of course, then things get all fucked up, complete with an apocalypse.
What is love, listeners? What is it about the nature of love that makes the threat of harm so integral to its existence? If we were to pry open the human heart from its delicate cage and carefully carve into it with a scalpel, we would find no evidence of love.
Nectar and milk flow freely, and the wedding dances are wild.
What's the best way to catch some radical socialist maple syrup thieves? Go undercover as a couple with a twee Brooklyn store, of course.
When Finn and Kylo meet again, the world is falling down around them.
On Giedi Prime, a captured Paul considers his enemies and his allies.
Kisse he me with the cos of his mouth.
For thi tetis ben betere than wyn, and yyuen odour with beste oynementis.
Richard and Anne make out in the bath.
It was her own damn poor luck to be in love with both of them. (The three work a job, deny their feelings, and get kidnapped. In that order.)
May tries not to think about everything Jasmine does for her.
They haven't really talked about what's going on between them, except this morning while Jiang Cheng was eating breakfast and Wei Wuxian was lying on the sofa with his arm over his eyes, Wei Wuxian said, "Are you going to be weird about it if I hold your hand in front of our friends?"
Jiang Cheng chewed his youtiao.
"Just let me know," Wei Wuxian said. "It's chill."
Oh, Jiang Cheng knew very well that it was not chill. But he wasn't like Wei Wuxian; he couldn't just do<…
They haven't really talked about what's going on between them, except this morning while Jiang Cheng was eating breakfast and Wei Wuxian was lying on the sofa with his arm over his eyes, Wei Wuxian said, "Are you going to be weird about it if I hold your hand in front of our friends?"
Jiang Cheng chewed his youtiao.
"Just let me know," Wei Wuxian said. "It's chill."
Oh, Jiang Cheng knew very well that it was not chill. But he wasn't like Wei Wuxian; he couldn't just do things like that, like it was nothing. Wei Wuxian could name his sword—gleaming now on the rack above his head—Suibian, he could do whatever he wanted. He got all the curses and the blessings of being always inside and outside the Jiangs, and Jiang Cheng got everything else.
"You can hold my hand," Jiang Cheng said after he swallowed, feeling like he'd just walked over a bed of hot coals.