During the feast celebrating her adoption as heir, Sandry thinks about what being nisamohi will mean for her.

Sometimes they forget: she's a political science major.

When Tyrion neglects to impregnate Sansa with the heir to Winterfell, Tywin decides to take matters into his own hands. But Sansa is no longer a little Northern dove; she is a Lannister with nothing left to lose.

She has no care of the Iron Throne--yet, and then only who sits on it, leave her be. She is going to reclaim her home, the place she once despaired of, dreaming of the sun and songs of the south. She was a Stark of Winterfell, there had always been a Stark at Winterfell, tales Old Nan told if the Starks lost Winterfell for good, the winter would win. Her mother scoffed at the tales, Sansa had as well, but whispers are on the cold wind. Winter is Coming. She was going to see the Spring.

This is a dangerous game that they're playing.

FMA best case scenario. But the Elrics, even at peace and completely happy in themselves, are still kind of alarming to bystanders.

After much deliberation, careful study, and scientific analysis, Wes Janson decides that the Fate Of The Galaxy is entirely dependent on the state of Senator-Princess Leia Organa's hair.

The pen is mightier than the sword, or how Zuko saves the day via the power of good penmanship.

In a moment of lightheartedness, Lan Xichen proposes to Nie Mingjue that they go dare the dangerous Burial Mounds to see what the Yiling Patriarch is really doing there, and so judge for themselves whether Lan Wangji's unauthorized visit there was in fact a breach of the rules or not. What they find there - isn't what they expected.

Nie Mingjue took one look at the ash-faced girl on the streets of Lanling, caught her by the shoulder and said, “Aren’t you that Wen Qing? I used to see you at discussion conferences – what are you doing here?” Nothing is ever the same again.

Sandu Shengshou and Hanguang-Jun had, infamously, long since mastered the art of existing in the same space without ever acknowledging one another directly, and Wei Wuxian, having never in either of his lives met a delicate social situation he didn't blithely barrel through if it suited him, happily chattered enough to fill what might have been awkward silences in any other company. But in the end it was not Wei Wuxian who ultimately prompted the cessation of the cultivation world's coldest and most famous feud. or: The Badass Teamup of Jiang Cheng and Lan Wangji

“What,” Nie Mingjue said, even as Jin Zixuan got up with a set expression on his face to accept a bow from his servant, “are you doing?” Jin Zixuan paused, looking puzzled – and no surprise, since Nie Mingjue hadn’t said anything beyond the most mundane greetings when he first arrived. “Sect Leader Nie..?” Nie Mingjue rose to his feet, his brother’s hand falling off of his arm as if he’d shaken him off like a dog. “What are you doing?” he demanded, louder this time. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

It wasn’t that Jiang Cheng hadn’t liked Nie Huaisang well enough, when they were all learning together in the Cloud Recesses. Anyone who had the energy to keep up with Wei Wuxian – and just enough good sense to help veer him off the really bad ideas, even if he did keep egging him on in regards to the medium-grade bad ones – was good news in his books. But liking him didn’t mean respecting him, and the fact that Nie Huaisang hadn’t participated much in the war – couldn’t participate much – had led Jiang Cheng to discount him more or less entirely. That’s what made it all the more surprising when Nie Huaisang ended up being the unofficial leader of the three remaining Great Sects in opposing Jin Guangshan after the war.