Of all the droughts I can think of, probably the worst is a spiritual drought.
• We have all had them.
• You pray but you feel like the prayers don’t leave the roof of your house.
• You read your Bible, it puts you to sleep; and you go to church and don’t get enough out of it.
Today let our prayer be, “Lord, rain on us! We need the rain of the Holy Spirit in our lives like never before.”
Let us acknowledge the LORD; let us press on to acknowledge Him. As surely as the sun rises, He will appear; He will come to us like the winter rains, like the spring rains that water the earth.“ Hosea 6:3

anonymous asked:

I love Sansa with all my heart but sometimes I fear that in the end she won't actually be relevant or play a big role in the finale of the books. Am I delusional for hoping that Sansa might be important?

Well, if you’re delusional, then so am I, and so is everyone else on the USS (HMS? Is there a Westerosi equivalent?) Jonsa. So, welcome aboard!

If there’s anything I’m 99% certain about (this IS GRRM we’re talking about, after all), it’s that Sansa will be of the UTMOST importance and relevance, and here’s why:

  1. She will depose Cersei: It doesn’t have to mean literally. It would be amazing to see Sansa on the IT, but at the end of the day, that’s not what this is about. Sansa is the “younger and more beautiful queen”. No, not D. Sansa. What can D take away that Cersei has left? Her Red Keep? Pffffttt. She can build another one. But Sansa has been slowly and methodically been chipping away at the things that Cersei holds dearest, beginning with Joffrey, all the way through Jaime, who, as recently as the S7 finale, just up and rode away to swear fealty to the North. What’s more, if you’ve been following closely, you’ll notice that all most of the characters are now neatly arranged “facing” North, whether it’s because they doubt D, Cersei, or are simply in geographical proximity. But sooner or later, they will all be swearing fealty to the de-facto Queen in the North, Sansa Stark. 
  2. She’s still alive: Who could have possibly predicted way back in S1 that Sansa would still be alive all these years later? As much as I loved her to begin with, I was constantly plagued with the fear that she would be killed off. Like you, I was worried that she wasn’t that relevant. But Sansa Stark is alive and well, kicking ass and taking names. There is no way that she has been kept alive when many seemingly more influential characters (Ned, Robb, Tywin, etc) have gone the way of all men. It has to mean something. 
  3. Super Six/Spectacular Seven: You’re familiar with the Fab Five, right? There were originally five characters who where supposed to make it all the way to the end, and they were D, Jon, Tyrion, Cersei, and Arya. But he recently had dinner with a lucky fan during which he confirmed that Sansa had been added to the original list (if anyone has the source, please link it in the comments!). Again, there has to be a reason why.
  4. Her Policy: Season 7. ‘Nuff said. Season 7 has proven without a doubt that Sansa (Team North, in general) is supposed to be a clear foil for D and her methods of ruling. Episode 3. We see Sansa running Winterfell and stashing away grain for the coming winter like the boss lady she is. What happens THE VERY NEXT episode? D torches the entire Lannister food train. It doesn’t get clearer than that. How about Episode 5? “I’m sure cutting off heads is very satisfying, but that’s not the way you get people to work together”. SAME EPISODE??? Tarly bbq. Plain as day. I don’t just mean Sansa vs. D in terms of who gets Jon’s affections (though I certainly do), but their policies of ruling couldn’t be more extreme. 

Any way you slice it, Sansa will be there right where the fighting is thickest. What’s more, she’ll be queen. Whether it’s Jon’s queen, Queen in the North, Queen of the Seven Kingdoms, you name it. But one thing is certain, that crown is hers!

Hope this helps. Thanks for the ask and come back anytime!



Still can’t accept this

Every time the cast talks about how Vax dropping dead after the final fight is inevitable and there’s nothing they can do about it, I want to cry. 

Remember how fired up they all were after it first happened? Keyleth and Pike especially? 

I have to hope that something will happen. I have to hope that Vax can come back like, in the winter, or visit them sometimes, or something. Or there’s something great Matt’s gonna pull out of his head that’ll be poignant but fitting and right. 

How the fuck am I supposed to be happy and celebrating the conclusion of this show if Vax drops dead and everyone is miserable and blaming themselves for being unable to stop it? That’s a tragic depressing ending to an amazing epic. That’s not the tone of the show. 

I’ve talked circles about this with people over the past few months and I keep running into this wall in my mind. I just can’t accept this. Maybe I’m taking this too personally. I just can’t see this as anything but a horrific tragedy, I can’t stop being sickened by this idea. The price for their survival is for this tragic man to die young, to never have a family, to never get to spend his final years with the woman he loves and his family and friends around him. Just after he found happiness and peace in his life, he gets that cruelly yanked away. His reward is to die young. His reward, after saving the world over and over again, is to die young and miserable and leave his friends and family miserable and blaming themselves. 

I just really hope there’s something that’ll happen, some way around this. He’s suffered and struggled so much. I just want him to be happy. Not resigned, not resolved to his fate, not accepting it out of fear of what would happen to Vex, actually happy. I really don’t think that’s so much to ask. I don’t want him to die miserable and self-sacrificing. “The world is better without me in it” is not the final thought I want going through Vax’s mind. The world is better with him in it. 

anonymous asked:

so is boatsex actually gonna happen? honestly, i would die happy after e6, and they only held hands >.<

Honey, *hands you a warm cup of tea*, boatsex is coming like winter. The leaks were by now 99% accurate with a twist here and there, but from what I’ve gathered Dany and Jon will get it on on a boat headed North after the Dragonpit showdown, so yes, it’s happening, drink up your tea and get ready

Originally posted by rain-tea-coffee

Frozen 2 and the Elsa problem.

Ladies and Gentlemen, welcome to my Online Social Justice Warrior Layer.

As you know, Frozen 2 is is coming. Much like winter in GOT it won’t be here for a while. But that begs the question: What are they going to do with Elsa?

This my friends, is the difficult truth: SHE WILL BE GETTING A ROMANTIC INTEREST. It’s the only logical narrative outcome.

Now, lets look at her prospects of romance, by analysing her most popular ships. I’ll look at the people we ship her with, and ask the big questions like:

-What be them?
-Who do they?
-And Why?…


Jack Frost:
Pros: Also has ice-powers, Playful personality similar to Anna, which Elsa would be able to relate to. Cute together.
Cons: Is a teenager, Is legally dead, is also legally Dreamworks property.

Pros: Knows Elsa well, Only person Elsa truly loves, Cute together.
Cons: Is her sister. This is Disney and Arendelle, not HBO and Dorne, people.

Pros: He loves Ice. She makes Ice. Cute together.
Cons: He loves Anna. She loves Anna. Awkward.

Pros: Similar difficult childhoods, he’s well endowed, combination of their genes would make sexiest children ever made. Would be drop dead sexy together.
Cons: he may have unresolved psychological issues. And he tried to kill her. 0-1. But he also saved her in her palace. 1-1. But he left her sister to die. Ouch.

Male OC:
Pros: Umm…
Cons: He’d be hated by fans. Despised by all. A pariah desperately clinging to the idea that he and Elsa should be. Remember the ice skating guy? Yeah…

Female OC:
Pros: LGBTQA representation in a Disney movie, makes film even more inclusive, would be a role model to younger audience members who struggle with their own sexual identity, would preach a message of tolerance and acceptance.
Cons: Disney is conservative as fuck.

Conclusion: If Elsa is getting a love interest, it would logically be either a a Female OC, or a redeemed Prince Hans (ducks head to avoid thrown objects because of the second option.)

But it’ll probably be a male OC, because Disney is stupid.

The Blank Inquisitor

I know I promised a post about Cory but I really want to talk about the Inquisitor. I swear, though, I’m going to get to Cory eventually.

I’ve talked mostly about game mechanics so far, but even more frustrating than some of the problematic mechanics is the problematic narrative. And I don’t mean problematic in the “poorly handled social justice” sort of way. Well, actually, I absolutely do, but that’s not what I’m focusing on right now (but it is coming like a harsh winter storm, I assure you). For now, I mean from a narrative standpoint. And there are several ways to approach this:

Anticlimactic tie-ups

Half-done character arcs

Character arcs that don’t even make sense

Characters that barely even exist

The general main story-line

Narrative for quest dynamics

As you can imagine, those are all in the works. I’ll link to them when they’re posted.

This time, though, I’m going to look at the narrative in terms of the Inquisitor. Some of these points will overlap with points in other posts, but they’re very relevant here as well.

Keep reading


Summary: Sansa sees Jon’s scars.

The room Jon had taken for his chambers is not as small as Sansa feared it might be. It used to be a room reserved for visitors. All of the strangers who had made Winterfell their unwilling home since then- turncloaks and bastards and creatures without souls- seemed to have kept it that way.

It is clean and spacious, with a sizable bed that could fit two, but it lacked any character, its decor kept to a minimum. Sansa would’ve tried to occupy her eyes with something other than Jon’s bare chest when she came in, but was given nothing. It isn’t like the lord’s chambers, her chambers; no carpet made of fur, no bowls of fruit, no carvings of the faces of Winterfell’s long-dead kings on the wooden posts of the bed.

The servants have even recovered one of Sansa’s old quilts. It is embellished with vines and trees and a picture of wolves lurking in the woods and a prince in a golden crown somewhere in the middle, holding a golden blade, like something from a song.

She walks in and warmth envelopes her, emanating from the fireplace like the orange, crackling breath of a dragon.

Once she sees him, she forgets why she had come. The jagged ridges on his skin look unhealed and grotesque. The flesh is parted and there is a blackness in between, like he was cut open and inside was a void that couldn’t be closed.

Sansa’s grip on the door handle tightens. “I should’ve knocked. I’ll come back later.”

He’s not entirely exposed, thank the gods, but somehow she thinks this is worse, seeing the marks of betrayal on him. She heard the story from many mouths, but she hadn’t summoned the courage to ask him. She wasn’t sure she wanted to hear what it pained for him to speak. She couldn’t bare to think that he had once been pale and cold and dead like winter come again.

She’s turning to leave but he asks her if something is wrong. She controls her expression but stumbles over the words. “I was just- I wanted to know if you intended to send the men to hunt. The game, we’ll need furs for the winter to come. The meat, too, of course, though that’s for the short-term.”

He looks surprised, The question seems silly now to Sansa. He was expecting something more troubling. She felt like a little girl and thought of all the times she had practically broken down her lady mother’s door to show her a new dress or tattle on Arya.

Jon stands holding his linen shirt as it grazes the floor. She keeps a steady gaze on his face, and it bears a few scars of its own, but on the blurred outskirts of her vision she could still see the ones that are wrong. Too deep. Too dark on his ghostly pale chest.

He clears his throat. “We’ll address it at the next meeting with the bannermen. We’ll need everything we can, before all the warm days slip away.”

Sansa shuffles by the doorway. She should shut the door and leave, let him be at peace in his chambers. The sun has nearly set over the horizon and sent the grey-blue clouds ablaze with streaks of red and orange. She meant to retire to her bedchambers, too. A bath was being drawn for her that would get cold if she did not come soon. Yet she’s grounded to the spot. She feels a quiet she hadn’t known for a while, here, at her brother’s doorstep. Save for the guards at their posts and the stable and kennel masters making noise in the courtyard, there is no one. Winterfell is settling in for sleep. She’s wary only of one man even when she does not see him. It is enough to know that he lurks somewhere in these halls.

“Is there anything else?” Jon asks her. 

She steps forward and pushes the door closed behind her. Her voice hitches with a curiosity she feels ashamed for. “Is that where they…?”

He follows her gaze to his body. A shadow falls over his face, and she imagines he has remembered a nightmare. He hasn’t spoken of it, but she is learning how to read his restrain, how to notice the nuances between all his solemn expressions. 

“That’s where they killed me, yes.” His voice is low, like it is a burden for him to speak.

“They haven’t healed,” she observes. “Not properly. Have you been to see the maester?”

“I don’t think these are the types of wounds that heal.”

She comes closer to get a better look. Shadows dance across the room and over him as the fire grows uneasy. Up close, they are a more brutal sight. She draws in a breath. She wants to see the faces of his killers. If Jon hadn’t already executed them, she thinks, I would’ve liked to. 

“I’m all right.” Jon pulls up his shirt, intending to put it on. “Nothing but an ugly sight now.” 

“Still,” Sansa sighs. “You should see the maester for a salve. There’s one that makes cuts swell less.” It stings when it touches your skin, Sansa thinks. It works, but not like a miracle. Your wounds will stay longer than you want them to. You’ll have to hide them with extra fabrics and jewelry and hair pieces. 

He reassures her he’ll see the maester, that it might work for the newer ones. The shirt falls over him like a curtain over a dark secret in a tower.

“You never talked about what happened,” Sansa says. He had told her they needed to trust each other, and she wonders whether he’s ready to give her more than just political honesty. There’s a space between them that she wants to close, but he’s stuck in his Northern manner of reservedness. She wonders if he is trying to protect her by never giving her the truth of the story she’d been passed down like tavern gossip. Maybe he is protecting himself. 

“There’s nothing to say. I was betrayed, I died, I came back.” 

“But when you died…what was that like?” Who did you see? Did you feel pain beyond this world? Sansa had stopped praying to the gods because she knew they would not save her, but often when she had been a prisoner inside a cold room only a few doors away, she had wondered if she would get to look upon their cruel faces when she died. Maybe she’d spit on them and they would punish her for all her insolence, but at least she would be somewhere other, being tortured in a way she had willingly earned.

The bed chamber grows dark as the last of the sun’s rays slip away through the crack under the door. 

The bed is layered with thick quilts and furs and it creaks under Jon’s weight when he sits on it. He looks to the flickering flames of the fire. 

“I felt nothing. Saw nothing. It was darkness on all sides and nothing more.  Like being asleep and not dreaming.” 

What would all the septons and priestesses and devoted followers of gods old and new have to say to that? Sansa wonders boldly. The words only stir the hollow feeling that had been growing inside her since blood had dripped from her father’s severed head onto the sacred steps of the Great Sept. As a little girl, she would’ve told him he was a liar. She would’ve told Jon he was insolent and then weeped, scared he wasn’t lying at all. 

Now she is not scared. Jon looks bruised and weary. The dark circles under his eyes aren’t just shadow tricks. She sits beside him on the bed.

Septa Mordane’s lessons come to the forefront of her mind. She feels a phantom ache in her knees, remembering kneeling on rough gravel, squeezing her eyes shut, keeping her hands firmly clasped together, and begging for a prince to wed, and then, soon after, a prince’s severed head. 

“Maybe the gods knew you weren’t meant to die,” Sansa begins slowly. “Maybe they wanted to bring you back all along and spared you the sight of the seven hells.” Jon looks at her with raised eyebrows.

“Or wherever you were meant to end up,” Sansa adds quickly. 

Jon laughs. His eyes crinkle and he is not so pale now, warmed by the blood rushing to his cheeks, by the fur underneath him, the fire. Sansa’s amusing, hopeful tone. Sansa doesn’t care that she might be slipping back into a careless faith. She’d be a saint and pledge her life and slit her palm for sacrificial blood to whatever god could make Jon smile like that. 

The silence has helped you hear His voice clearer. You’d recognize it flowing from another mouth that hears Him, too. A voice that warms the cold away and soothes the hurt with a warm joy and tender love. Coming like spring to your winter, reminding you of the hope of life ahead. Seasons don’t last forever and hearts heal in time. There’s a beauty even in this- the discovery of each new day, even with the strength it requires to carry through. Be patient with yourself, dear heart, and never give up believing good is coming. There’s more for you.
—   the friendship of His friend //