ITAP of a woolen scarf on a heater
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👤︎ u/skibozaur
📅︎ Jan 23
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Hello, I would like to introduce myself ,I'm new here. So as jan-may directory asks: I'm an architect. I Love baroque & Gothic. I adore Caravaggio & Vermeer. I love woolen scarfs & thin framed glasses. I enjoy Suspiria by D.argento , Interview w Vamp., Sabrina (all). I'm decorating my room DA style
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📅︎ Feb 13 2021
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What is this bug? Found it on a woolen scarf inside a zipped up suitcase
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📰︎ r/Whatisthis
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📅︎ Dec 21 2020
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I finished my woolen scarf just in time for New England's snow storms imgur.com/odBFaEy
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📰︎ r/Brochet
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📅︎ Dec 16 2020
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How to design a Woolen Scarf Mockup |Apparel Mockup| Photoshop Mockup Tu... youtube.com/watch?v=KrEw2…
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👤︎ u/Mockuphut
📅︎ Jan 20 2021
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Outfit for hunting the Wolfman. If you are wondering how to get the scarf to hang out of your coat like this it is the combo of the scarf and the woolen shirt that does it.
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👤︎ u/LiathWolf
📅︎ Sep 29 2019
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Woolen scarf first try v.redd.it/8n5n84hv9pl41
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📰︎ r/crochet
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📅︎ Mar 09 2020
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Excuse my mess please, but lord and taylor pink plaid scarf, Abercrombie and fitch lvegan leather in my size , drug rug, snoopy pants, maroon pleather, violet fossil bag , oddly made woolen crop top , plus orange is the new black novel(not shown)
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👤︎ u/Cappycorna
📅︎ Sep 07 2018
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Girl with woolen scarf on futon oil on canvas a3 size imgur.com/b0VFUPB
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📰︎ r/Art
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👤︎ u/cvisuali
📅︎ Jan 08 2017
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What's the best way to make a seam on a woolen scarf-to-be? i.reddituploads.com/7713c…
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📰︎ r/sewhelp
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📅︎ Nov 24 2016
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The Snow Boy

“Don’t go outside Gemma. Remember what happened to the Shepard’s boy.” Still, I wanted to see the Snow Boy. I was worried he would melt before I had another chance to see him. Mum wiped her hands on her apron and put on her shawl. She looked back at me as she stepped out the door, on her way to finishing the morning chores, “I mean it.”

I knew what would happen to me if I got caught. A swift and sound beating, but I didn’t care. It was worth it to see the Snow Boy.

I waited a minute, secure in the fact that Mum would be out in the barn for some time, then grabbed my shawl and ran out the front door.

Being the youngest was difficult. My brothers and sisters had long ago married and moved along to start their own lives. Dad, had been dead and buried two summers since. Now it was just Mum and me. And Thomas sometimes. He was just five, and oh so darling! His big dark eyes sheltered ‘neath long lashes, and his round, rosy cheeks! I have always wanted a baby brother.

"Don't you want to be my brother, Thomas?" But he never belonged to me. He was the Sheepherder’s son.

Still, we played and frolicked all day long, after I helped Mum with the chores. When he went missing, Mum was scared. She never wanted me to leave the house. “You’ll freeze, Gemma! They still haven’t found the Shepard’s lad.”

But the Snow Boy was the last game we’d played together. I needed to see him; it would bring me closer to Thomas.

The Snow boy wore his battered hat, and woolen scarf still. His eyes were dark and shiny as ever. But his cheeks and nose! Oh, how red and rosy they once were, now turned a bluish gray! When I touched his cheek, my finger nearly stuck to it.

I knew this wouldn’t last forever, that he would only be mine for this winter alone. But I wasn’t going to let him go that easy! I packed more snow on his hard cheeks and swept the frost off his lashes. I took his shepherd’s crook out from its hiding place and leaned it against the snow boy’s shoulder. Goodbye Thomas! I hope I see you once again before the snow melts!

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📅︎ Dec 12 2021
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My village was ravaged during a war, but it wasn't due to any human army...

" Here, your new mittens are done! These ought to serve you well after yesterday's snowstorm left the entire countryside covered in snow. You'll have to bundle up well if you want to go play outside." My older sister said right after she finished knitting me a pair of mittens. Knitting clothes had been her specialty for as long as I could remember, I'll never forget the time she grabbed a pile of spare wool and crafted an adorable sheep costume for me to wear in our village's Mardi Gras costume party, in fact, knitting clothes and selling them on commission or at the village's market was one of our family's main sources of income. And by our family, I only mean my older sister and I, since we were the only ones that were left, being 19 and 9 years old respectively.

During its greatest extent, our household had consisted of 5 people: My father, my mother, my older brother, my older sister and I, the youngest child and second daughter, and I would see it gradually shrink before my eyes across my nine years of continued existence. My mother was the first one to go, my father and her attempted to bring another child to the world when I was only 2 years old, but something went wrong in the process, causing her to fall terribly ill and pass away a few weeks afterwards. My father was the next one, he left home when I was 7 years old alongside a large number of other men, as our Emperor had called them all to go to Russia and he never came back. Lastly, my 16 year old brother had left us only a few months ago, not unlike my father, he had also been called by our Emperor, only this time, it was to join him on a daring campaign to defend our country from an impending invasion by a coalition of other nations we were at war with.

So I bundled up by putting on my new pair of mittens as well as a thick and fluffy fur coat that covered my entire body from the top of my shoulders to the end of my legs ,and lastly, a long woolen scarf which my sister had also knitted for me in the past that I wrapped around my head, covering it as well as my ears and neck. After getting properly dressed to face the low temperatures, I joyfully said goodbye to my sister and stepped outside my house, ready to spend that chilly December afternoon having fun in my snow-coated humble little village tucked away at the edge of a relatively dense and remote forest.

I loved playing and roaming around my village and its surroundings, especially now that the first snowfalls had arrived and had

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📰︎ r/nosleep
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📅︎ Dec 05 2021
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How to perfect edges of moss stitched scarves?

So I am a crochet newbie and working on my very first project - a woolen scarf with moss stitch for my husband. The edges are slightly wavy. I checked out a few YouTube videos which explains how to even out edges when it's double or single crochet, but none for when it's moss stitch. Can anyone please help a sister out?

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📰︎ r/crochet
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👤︎ u/revtjay
📅︎ Nov 13 2021
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(Spoilers Extended) A Cold Memory

The Weirwoods seem to have shown Bran a number of visions/memories progressing backwards in time.

>The tree itself was shrinking, growing smaller with each vision, whilst the lesser trees dwindled into saplings and vanished, only to be replaced by other trees that would dwindle and vanish in their turn.

What seems to be the oldest memory shows a woman sacrificing someone.

>And through the mist of centuries the broken boy could only watch as the man's feet drummed against the earth … but as his life flowed out of him in a red tide, Brandon Stark could taste the blood.

The parallels seem to suggest she is the Lady of the Leaves.
https://awoiaf.westeros.org/index.php/Lady_of_the_Leaves

>A white-haired woman stepped toward them through a drift of dark red leaves, a bronze sickle in her hand.

>They climbed to a hidden village in the upper branches, a maze of rope walkways and little moss-covered houses concealed behind walls of red and gold, and were taken to the Lady of the Leaves, a stick-thin white-haired woman dressed in roughspun.

While the parallels to the captive seem to suggest he is Coldhands.
https://awoiaf.westeros.org/index.php/Coldhands

>Coldhands was the name that the fat boy Sam had given him, for though the ranger's face was pale, his hands were black and hard as iron, and cold as iron too.

>They'll kill him.

>No. They killed him long ago.

>"No," said Bran, "no, don't," but they could not hear him, no more than his father had. The woman grabbed the captive by the hair, hooked the sickle round his throat, and slashed.

Covering the lower half of his face may be intended to hide a slashed throat similar to Lady Stoneheart. Though over the centuries he may have sewn it shut, rather than having to hold it closed, in order to speak.

>The rest of him was wrapped in layers of wool and boiled leather and ringmail, his features shadowed by his hooded cloak and a black woolen scarf about the lower half of his face.

>The thing that had been Catelyn Stark took hold of her throat again, fingers pinching at the ghastly long slash in her neck, and choked out more sounds.

>His voice rattled in his throat, as thin and gaunt as he was.

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📰︎ r/asoiaf
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👤︎ u/Narsil13
📅︎ Aug 11 2021
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[SECRET] Konungarnas sista argument

What should have been a crisp autumn day was instead buffeted by frigid gusts racing off the Gulf of Bothnia, punctuated by rolling thunder in the distance. Micael Bydén tightened the woolen scarf around his neck, double-checking that every opening on his officer’s longcoat was fully buttoned as he stalked up a hill overlooking Boden. Sweden’s fortress stronghold was a shadow of its former glory, no longer the centerpiece of [Norra militärdistriktet](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Northern_Military_District_(MD_N)), but the town and its massive garrison remained an imposing reminder of the Kingdom’s military might nonetheless.

The thunder sounded closer now, and more potent. It reached a crescendo as the Supreme Commander of the Armed Forces of the Royal Commonwealth crested the hill, where a diminutive figure in a lined fur coat overlooked an alien landscape. What had once been rolling fields was now a moonscape, pock-marked with craters as far as the eyes could see. Orderly rows of heavy artillery lined the edges of the mock battlefield, delivering shot and shell downrange with the regularity of a metronome.

“Your Highness,” Bydén said, addressing the hooded figure. At that moment, the guns fell eerily silent. He swallowed, shaking his head to clear the ringing, before offering a respectful bow. “Is everything to your liking?”

The figure pouted. “It’s definitely a start, General,” she said, gesturing to the line of guns and artillerymen milling beneath them. “But it’s hardly enough.”

The Supreme Commander swallowed, staring at the hundreds of artillery pieces. “Not enough?” he managed, flummoxed.

“Yes,” his petite companion continued. “The American Century has made us soft. Mother says so. We started to lean too much on foreign promises.” She paused, a sad smile on her lips. “Promises became lies. We can no longer trust others to intervene on our account.

“Sweden-Finland-Åland must be strong.”

The wind shook the trees, and the General nodded grimly. “I’ll see to the necessary arrangements,” he murmured. “Is there something you would like to see-”

Ultima ratio regum,” his companion interrupted, her eyes distant. Before Bydén could reply, the entire line lit up, and the world was once again full of the staccato of cannonfire.

Princess Estelle offered the Supreme Com

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📅︎ Jul 09 2021
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Undead Characters: Eating/Drinking, Sleeping & Using the Privy (Spoilers Extended)

I've posted before about death changing a character: Death Changes You

But that post was primarily about how a character will no longer behave like their former self. In this post I wanted to focus on how the rest of the Westeros, etc. is going to react to Jon's very noticeable changes.

Undead Characters don't need nourishment/sleep and Jon's lack of this should be quite noticeable.

Beric Dondarrion

Arya picks up quite easily that Beric never eats or sleeps:

>Lord Beric himself did not eat. Arya had never seen him eat, though from time to time he took a cup of wine. He did not seem to sleep, either. His good eye would often close, as if from weariness, but when you spoke to him it would flick open again at once. The Marcher lord was still clad in his ratty black cloak and dented breastplate with its chipped enamel lightning. He even slept in that breastplate. The dull black steel hid the terrible wound the Hound had given him, the same way his thick woolen scarf concealed the dark ring about his throat. But nothing hid his broken head, all caved in at the temple, or the raw red pit that was his missing eye, or the shape of the skull beneath his face. -ASOS, Arya VII

Lady Stoneheart

Thoros states that Lady Stoneheart never sleeps:

>"And so she had. She returned whilst we were sleeping. She never sleeps herself." -AFFC, Brienne VIII

Coldhands

Bran notices that Coldhands never eats/drinks or sleeps

>"There's been too much going around," Meera insisted, "and too many secrets. I don't like it. I don't like him. And I don't trust him. Those hands of his are bad enough. He hides his face, and will not speak a name. Who is he? What is he? Anyone can put on a black cloak. Anyone, or any thing. He does not eat, he never drinks, he does not seem to feel the cold."
>
>It's true. Bran had been afraid to speak of it, but he had noticed. Whenever they took shelter for the night, while he and Hodor and the Reeds huddled together for warmth, the ranger kept apart. Sometimes Coldhands closed his eyes, but Bran did not think he slept. And there was something else … -ADWD, Bran I

If interested: (Character Origination) Coldhands & a Stone Heart

**R

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👤︎ u/LChris24
📅︎ May 15 2021
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Why Is Coldhands? (Spoilers Extended)

Coldhands is definitely my favorite secondary (maybe tertiary?) character in the books. We know almost nothing about characters like him and Quaithe, yet they seem to be important movers in the game. Coldhands rescues Sam and Gilly and delivers Bran to Bloodraven, and Quaithe gives Dany super vague prophecies that are very important in her decision making process throughout the story.

It seems like GRRM has some kind of big reveal waiting for these extremely mysterious characters. With Quaithe I honestly have no idea, although I do like the Shiera Seastar theory. However, I think I have Coldhands figured out (somewhat) based on the very few details we have on him. I've seen a lot of theories about him but not much on my favorite theory about his identity.

There are definitely similar theories out there, for example this one and this one, but I don't think it gets enough discussion and would like to hear everyone's thoughts.

My favorite theory (besides the recent A Nettle Is a Leaf theory which blew my mind, search it it's great) is that Coldhands is actually the mythical Night's King (and also a Brandon Stark) from Old Nans stories.

Lets start with hints from Coldhand's description:

>He wasn't a green man. He wore blacks, like a brother of the Watch, but he was pale as a wight, with hands so cold that at first I was afraid. The wights have blue eyes, though, and they don't have tongues, or they've forgotten how to use them.
>
>Sam, Bran IV, ASoS

From this description we get the idea that he is a Brother of the Night's Watch, and also one of the few self-aware (?) undead characters in the book so far.

>Coldhands was the name that the fat boy Sam had given him, for though the ranger's face was pale, his hands were black and hard as iron, and cold as iron too. The rest of him was wrapped in layers of wool and boiled leather and ringmail, his features shadowed by his hooded cloak and a black woolen scarf about the lower half of his face.
>
>Bran, Bran I, ADwD

In this passage Coldhands's black hands reinforce the idea that he is indeed undead. More interestingly, he is wearing a black scarf that covers his neck which is a very important deta

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📅︎ May 19 2020
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The Water Task - Horror Short Story (I wrote) inspired by Algerian old and creepy real/folk stories...

I owe the rights of the story as I'm its Author.

It's a scary story from Algerian Folklore...

You can find a link to an audio at the end...

“Where is Louisa?” Fatiha asked.

“She went to the well, as usual” her mother said.

“I know, but it’s been two hours now. It takes only half an hour to go there, fill two cans then return back home”

From the only window of the small terracotta house, mother and daughter took a look outside… It was sunset, but the sixteen years old girl didn’t show yet.

Fatiha complained: “What a tradition! To send a young girl to the well, this village’s inhabitants are insane”

“As far as I remember, bringing water from the well had always been young girls’ task” The mother answered.

“Nevertheless, I hated my water task

“It should be all right, we know almost every family in the village”

“And what about Djin stories you used to tell us about?” Fatiha asked with a suspicious look.

“We… We told you these to prevent you from wandering everywhere in the forest”

“You thought it would be better to give us nightmares?!”

“Nightmares happen at home and they never harm anyone, while wandering outside…” The mother said with a little smile.

“Do Djins even exist?”

“Yes, according to religion. But I don’t know if we can really see them or contact them… ”

“You mean those scary stories about cursed interspecies marriages and the use and abuse of mutilated corpses were actually folklore?!” Fatiha said with a mix of sarcasm and anger.

“Maybe” her mother answered.

#

An hour later, the two women were definitely worried, so Fatiha decided: “I’m going out to find her!”

“Do you want me to get killed by your father?” the mother complained.

At that time, the father entered, holding a few branches. He was obviously exhausted: “I hope chekhchoukha is ready! I confess I have great appetite!”

The mother didn’t dare to speak a word but Fatiha did: “Father, Louisa is still out there, she didn’t come back from the well”

“What are you saying?” The father asked with a mix of anger and fear.

“She is still out” the mother answered with fear. Fatiha didn’t know what was frightening her mother the most: her husband’s wrath or her daughter’s absence.

The father didn’t say a word, he took an oil lamp, a rope and a sickle then went out.

#

One hour passed then two, then three… The night was really dark and a little wind was blowing moving leaves on trees and making scary sounds.

At some point, the sound of a falling can coming from the g

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📅︎ Jul 29 2021
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Return [Hoshi Suuhai]

Sun sparkles across the snowy fields that surround Hoshi Suuhai as Tian walks down the meandering road that leads to the city's front gates. The young woman is bundled up in thick winter clothing and armor as well as a long woolen scarf that obscures half her face. When she reaches the entrance to Hoshi Suuhai, she unravels and pulls down the scarf so her features are visible while she checks in with the guard and shows her pass to get into the city.

Once inside, she leaves her scarf loose and flowing, its edges nearly hitting the ground as she walks down the streets of Hoshi Suuhai and looks around at all that has changed as well as for familiar faces among those she passes. A few hellos and waves are exchanged, but Tian's goal is the ninja headquarters in the city and she doesn't stop until she has reached the building. Inside, she takes care of all the necessary business that must be done for her return: hellos and small catch up chats with those on duty, reporting that she's ready to resume regular duties where ever her services are needed, and so on. Once this is all taken care of, she heads to her room and opens the door to a space that has grown dusty over the few weeks she was gone, but cleaning will have to wait until later. Tian sets aside her heavy travel pack and removes her thick winter clothing, shedding layers of traveling gear and clothing onto her bed to be hung in her closet later.

Once Tian has removed all the materials and items so necessary to winter travel, she adjusts her armor and weapons. She then leaves her personal space and seeks out the common room where she hopes to reunite with her friends and brother and share news with them all. Arriving in the common room, Tian heats water in a kettle so that there will be plenty for tea and other drinks while she catches up with friends and family.

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📅︎ Jan 09 2021
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Some Thoughts on Coldhands (Spoilers Extended)

The character Coldhands has always fascinated me and while we know he isn't Benjen his identity remains a mystery.

I have read amazing theories on how Coldhands is one of the Raven's Teeth (Bloodraven's personal guards of which numerous went with him to the Wall and then no one ever mentions them), as well as Jaime or even Bloodraven or Jon Snow (time loop stuff like Hodor). I even wrote on myself about how Coldhands and Lady Stoneheart have the same character origin.

That said, this post isn't about who he was or his current goal. Its more about a)the magic that resurrected him and b) his death.


While Coldhands is in proximity to the wights, he is not like them. He is not only more sentient (unlike wights/Robert Strong) but also his eyes aren't blue:

>The ranger killed a pig. Coldhands stood beside the door, a raven on his arm, both staring at the fire. Reflections from the flames glittered off four black eyes. He does not eat, Bran remembered, and he fears the flames. -ADWD, Bran I


Voice (Language of the Damned)

Coldhands' voice matches two other characters who are dead/associated with death:

>The ranger studied his hands as if he had never noticed them before. "Once the heart has ceased to beat, a man's blood runs down into his extremities, where it thickens and congeals." His voice rattled in his throat, as thin and gaunt as he was. "His hands and feet swell up and turn as black as pudding. The rest of him becomes as white as milk." -ADWD, Bran I

Lady Stoneheart:

>The woman in grey gave no answer. She studied the sword, the parchment, the bronze-and-iron crown. Finally she reached up under her jaw and grasped her neck, as if she meant to throttle herself. Instead she spoke . . . Her voice was halting, broken, tortured. The sound seemed to come from her throat, part croak, part wheeze, part death rattle. The language of the damned, thought Brienne. "I don't understand. What did she say?" -AFFC, Brienne VIII

The Kindly Man:

>"Let us see." The priest lowered his cowl. Beneath he had no face; only a yellowed skull with a few scraps of skin still clinging to

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👤︎ u/LChris24
📅︎ May 27 2020
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[OC] The HEL Jumper [Chapter 41]

[Previous] p | [First] f | [Next] n


A/N: Only major announcement today is that due to being out of town this weekend, Sunday's HEL Jumper will likely be posted at the end of the day instead of during the early afternoon. High five for last chapter goes to /u/irmadbro. We're pushing the limits today in terms of post length. May your feels be like your coffee today, rich, sweet, and strong. Hope you all enjoy!


It’s amazing how much can change in a day. Winters thought to himself as he led Veera along the main street back to her home…or was it their home now? He supposed that question was a moot point. The day before he’d been a nervous wreck, allowing himself to be carried through the streets behind her while chasing himself in circles through his mind. His nerves had been almost as bad as his first drop. All of that had disappeared, replaced by a plethora of new emotions and circumstances. He and Veera were walking together, serenely, along with much of the village population following the last song of the evening. They were together, an item, and part of the broader whole. He had a Cauthan girlfriend. She had a human boyfriend. It was a bit too much to keep inside. He looked to the stars and let out a deep breath.

“Care to share?” Veera asked softly, running her thumb over the back of his palm.

“Just thinking how beautiful the sky is out here…and how crazy this all is. Not us…I just mean between yesterday and today. I never expected to feel like such a novice again.” He tried to explain. She nodded and flicked her tail.

“It’s like my whole world has changed. Everything’s where it was. Things taste the same, smell the same, feel the same…but I see it all differently. Everything except you. You stayed the same. I wonder how winter will change…” She whispered. Winters looked at her, unsure how he could say anything to match the impact of her words. They had used the terms boyfriend and girlfriend, but it was abundantly clear to Winters that Veera saw their relationship through a Cauthan lens. He felt a serious expression play over his face as he considered his futures. The branching tree had changed significantly, its root now at the moment he and Veera kissed. For t

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📅︎ May 10 2018
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Cold Hands and a Stone Heart (Spoilers Extended)

It is well known that throughout the series there are remnants/foreshadowing to abandoned/altered plotlines from GRRM's original outline. Some of the bigger examples include Jaime becoming king and possibly Tyrion burning Winterfell. There are also characters that seem to have had their plotlines shift to another after the abandoned 5 year gap. These could include Edric Dayne and Darkstar (Sword of the Morning), as well as possibly Brienne and Pretty Meris (u/joemagician's theory). Another example from the original outline is the theory that Catelyn Stark was always intended to become LSH, due to the fact that she originally dies beyond the Wall.

What I would like to theorize is the possibility of Coldhands/Lady Stoneheart having originated from the same thought/plotline by GRRM.


In the original outline, GRRM has Catelyn disappearing beyond the Wall with Bran/Arya and being killed by the Others:

>Abandoned by the Night's Watch, Catelyn and her children will find their only hope of safety lies even further north, beyond the Wall, where they fall into the hands of Mance Rayder, the King-beyond-the-Wall, and get a dreadful glimpse of the inhuman others as they attack the wilding encampment. Bran's magic, Arya's sword Needle, and the savagery of their direwolves will help them survive, but their mother Catelyn will die at the hands of the others.


The character Coldhands doesn't appear until ASOS (2000):

>"Brother!" The shout cut through the night, through the shrieks of a thousand ravens. Beneath the trees, a man muffled head to heels in mottled blacks and greys sat astride an elk. "Here," the rider called. A hood shadowed his face.

>He's wearing blacks. Sam urged Gilly toward him. The elk was huge, a great elk, ten feet tall at the shoulder, with a rack of antlers near as wide. The creature sank to his knees to let them mount. "Here," the rider said, reaching down with a gloved hand to pull Gilly up behind him. Then it was Sam's turn. "My thanks," he puffed. Only when he grasped the offered hand did he realize that the rider wore no glove. His hand was black and cold, with fingers hard as stone. -ASOS, Samwell III

But remember that his real name isn't Coldhands, its just a name Sam creates because of, well his cold hands:

>Just ahead, the elk wove between the snowdrifts with his head down, his huge rack of antlers crusted with ice. The ranger sat astride his

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👤︎ u/LChris24
📅︎ Dec 20 2019
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Today I realized that wearing a mask reminds me of a very cozy feeling!

I live in Norway and here we can get - 15C or even - 25C in the winter. Wearing a mask today suddenly brought back a really strong feeling, perhaps one that I hadn't appreciated how much I love. Let me try to explain.

When it's super cold outside you wrap up in layers of warm clothing. Lots of thick heavy wool. Big wool coat. Packed nice and tightly. Put on a woolen beanie, tuck it down over your ears. And then a big woolen scarf, and you wrap it around you twice: first your neck, and then over your face and nose.

This sensation of being packed in so nicely being warm in a freezing city with big snowflakes falling slowly. That quiet "sound-scape" that snow brings.

I don't know, the sensation of breathing in a mask just made all these feelings come rushing back :) Does anyone know what I'm talking about?

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👤︎ u/the--dud
📅︎ Jul 29 2020
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Anyone else noticed that weather and board games both exist?

I've noticed that it gets colder in winter, and when it's colder I tend to change my behaviour.

Board Games are a part of my life; when I change my behaviour it's possible that parts of my life change, including board games.

What should I do about this? Would I be warmer if I played a fire themed game, or a game with a woolen scarf mechanic?

Has anyone else made a completely mundane observation that can somehow implicate board games?

I suspect I don't often play board games when I'm driving, or after I die.

board games.

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💬︎
👤︎ u/dtph
📅︎ Oct 06 2019
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[Spoilers EXTENDED] Jon's future: Three kinds of magic is better than one

This is my first post on reddit, I joined because I wanted to share this little idea here as well. Please tell me if I'm breaking any rules, I'm still trying to get used to it.

After reading this interview with Grrm in the Time Magazine last year I thought hard and long on how Jon's resurrection will happen in the books.

>Times: And Jon Snow, too, is drained by the experience of coming back from the dead on the show.
>
>GRRM: Right. And poor Beric Dondarrion*, who was set up as the foreshadowing of all this, every time he’s a little less Beric. His memories are fading, he’s got all these scars, he’s becoming more and more physically hideous, because he’s not a living human being anymore. His heart isn’t beating, his blood isn’t flowing in his veins, he’s a wight, but a wight animated by fire instead of by ice, now we’re getting back to the whole fire and ice thing.*

Grrm talking about Beric's overall dire condition, emphasizing his physical decay when Jon is mentioned ... definitely doesn't sound too positive. Jon basically turning into a different kind of wight? Trapped inside a dead body? Is that his fate once he comes back?

Quite a lot of people have argued that Jon’s condition “won’t be that bad” (especially since he seems rather fine in the show), but the arguments brought forward are honestly … not very convincing.

Grrm’s statement is pretty straightforward and there is nothing in the text contradicting him either. “His heart doesn’t beat, his blood isn’t flowing in his veins, a wight animated by fire instead of ice”. While the show might have scratched Lady Stoneheart, and show!Beric does look like he still has blood flowing through his veins, nothing in the books suggests the same. I also think that “It’s different for Jon because he’ll only be resurrected once” (something I've read several times) is rather unsatisfying, Lady ST was only brought back once and still looks very much like a dead person. Beric was brought back right after dying and still "his heart isn't beating". I would also see no reason why “not a living human being anymore” should only apply after the second or third or fourth resurrection. So, undead fire!wight Jon is inevitable. Right?

Maybe not.

I recently came up with a little theory that doesn’t contradict George’s statement, but still allows for post-resurrection Jon to have a “living” body. Jon wil

... keep reading on reddit ➡

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📰︎ r/asoiaf
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📅︎ Jun 11 2018
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Helicopter Gothel's hair obsession (or how my life resembles Tangled)

A bit of backstory: Helicopter Gothel's maternal grandma (GGMa from now) was definitely the first narcissistic JNMIL in the family. Gma was the scapegoat, while her brother was the golden child. Helicopter Gothel is the oldest of her siblings.

GGMa, being a controlling and bitter woman, obviously expected control over her grandaughter too. For reasons I've never had clear (maybe to prevent lice but wtf), she demanded Helicopter Gothel's hair to be kept short. Boy cut short. Gma caved in, and so, Helicopter Gothel wore such haircut until well into her teen ages.

Being a deranged human already, the only way she found to cope with it was, by her account, putting a long woolen scarf on her head to resemble a long mane. And then look at herself in front of a mirror while playing with it.

So when Helicopter Gothel married she said fuck that noise and never again made any drastic change to her haircut. Just kept it hip long and trimmed the tips, nothing else. And when I was born she kept my hair the same way.

It sounds fine at first, doesn't it? She took pride in how low manteinance our manes were and felt superior by not needing any fancy products to keep them good looking. Also she loved the fact that we both had the exact same style, because I look a lot like her. Then madness ensued when I was about 12 and wanted something different: a shoulder blade lenght cut.

She never took me to the hairdresser, washed my hair until my teens and also trimmed the tips. So she was my self appointed hairdresser. And she completely refused to give me the hair cut at first. I pestered her a long while until she accepted. And guys. She cried. She cried while cutting the hair, and after, and put the remains on a bag. Because that's how a regular mother reacts.

Then I got a bit older and wanted a shoulder lenght cut. Then she outright said no. I got bored of asking for it, and as my parents never gave me money/took it away from me, I couldn't afford going to a salon, I did it myself one night she was away. Next day my hair curled up, and Helicopter Gothel almost had a heart attack. She went nuts. Then put me in a chair to fix the edges, but not without screaming at me the whole fucking time and berating me about it. I remember being frightened and crying while she roughly cut with some big ass scicssors, sometimes scraping my neck. She later blamed it on having had a fight with my father the night before...sure. Completely normal reaction.

Years later I grew my hair again,

... keep reading on reddit ➡

👍︎ 137
📰︎ r/JUSTNOMIL
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📅︎ Dec 23 2016
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My Organization Takes Care of Everything Paranormal- PART IV

You know, there’s something to be said for a cliffhanger. Sometimes, It just works. A lot of the time, it just flows with the story. So, sorry/not sorry. You’ll just have to deal with it.

I opened my eyes again, to the sight and feeling of the Rusalka, her translucent blue form laying on my chest. She spoke, eyes closed and body unmoving. “You are still sleeping” I breathed a sigh of relief and concern. Again, she spoke to me, this time rising from her position to face me, eyes half-open and drowsy “I will not hold you for more than a half hour. You have important business, I understand.” I looked back over my shoulder, trying to see the village. In my head, I wondered “What the fuck are we gonna do about that?” It became apparent to me at that moment that she could read my thoughts when we were in this state after she responded “Must you be so profane?” I Sighed aloud, then began to stare down at the snow in front of me. I spoke aloud curiously pondering “It all seems so real, how is this possible?” She responded quietly “I’m not exactly sure, to be honest, this has never happened before.” my brow furrowed at this response, then one raised while the other encroached further on my eye, as I began to ask a question of her “Do you understand English? Wait. Don’t answer that. We’ve been speaking in English, haven’t we?” At this her mouth grew into a smile, then wider as her body rocked in an apparent fit of laughter. “Guess that answers my question.” I replied to her laughter. It seemed, however, that she suddenly grew solemn. Her face fell into a neutral position, and her body fell into a tense sort of relaxation. She spoke to me, voice monotone and carrying an undertone of sadness “Our time is coming to an end… I cannot stretch this moment any longer.” She began to draw away from me, but I wrapped my arms around her. It had been an eternity since I had felt this kind of connection with someone. She shared her trauma with me, and I with her. She held no words of pity for me. She did not view me as broken, perhaps as nearly everyone else that knew did. I did not want this moment to end. I decided right then, with the feeling of her body against mine, that I would not let it end. She was the only person who truly understood what I had been through, although I am not sure how.

I felt her head dig into my chest, a clear sign that she felt the same way. I felt her hands move out from their protective embrace around her chest, and two things after that- One was

... keep reading on reddit ➡

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📅︎ Apr 17 2019
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Auction Sunday, 7pm Eastern. Updated List!

The auction will be held at the Crossing Trader's Guild. You must have your plats on you to bid, but don't worry - the auction hall is a steal-free zone. Here is an updated list for your viewing pleasure:

  • a blue-green cloth lootbag - autoloot container, holds 118 items, thigh worn
  • a shadowy black cloth lootsack - autoloot container, holds 118 items, belt worn
  • a small golden crocodile - lighter
  • some nightmare black leathers
  • a hooded silverweave cowl lined with softened nightmare black leather
  • a striped flame point kitten - tier 1
  • a glittery diamondwood belaying pin edged with svelae stars - glitter flare
  • a striking blue-black starlight velvet dress accented with lustrous silverweave - Limited Edition from Damsel in this Dress, HE 414 (2014)
  • an opalescent white moonspun silk gown embellished with mistglass traceries - Limited Edition from Damsel in this Dress, HE 414 (2014)
  • an ornately carved gloomwood repair case - Limited Edition siegery, original contents inside
  • a transparent icesteel repair case bound in bands of flame-kissed Elven gold - Limited Edition siegery, original contents inside
  • a miniature bushy vela'tohr plant protected by dozens of slender mistglass vines - siegery
  • a miniature armored korograth with twisted black horns - siegery
  • a miniature model of Qi'Reshalia - siegery
  • a quartzite skull inset with spherical onyx eyes - TM focus
  • a sleeping sungold dragon curled around a huge orb of green and blue starglass - huge-sized starglass
  • a weighty tome bound in diamond-hide slightly marred by scorch marks - tier 1 textbook
  • a blued moonsilver satchel - Can be changed into a blued moonsilver backpack, blued moonsilver bundle, blued moonsilver carryall, blued moonsilver duffel, blued moonsilver game-bag, blued moonsilver handbag, blued moonsilver haversack, blued moonsilver pack, and blued moonsilver rucksack
  • a dragonfire brocade crafting satchel with a spiral smokewood clasp
  • a crimson leather mask set with a mohawk fashioned from iron spikes - roar mask
  • a polished chain helm topped with curved horns - roar helm
  • a glaes spider set with a large libger's eye stone
  • an elaborate hip-chain bedazzled by cabochon dragonvein agates
  • an azure-scaled poloh'izh hide cloaka small ebony wardrobe carved with a whimsical design of dancing fae
  • an oak-handled burin inset with a medium red-green bloodstone tip
  • a set of niniam gauges suspending rainbow glass spirals - alters features to: Both of your earlobes are stretch
... keep reading on reddit ➡

👍︎ 2
📰︎ r/drsales
💬︎
👤︎ u/Lycette
📅︎ Jun 13 2020
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I'm such a woman-face pervert that...

Fellow MTTs, let us shock and horrify the delicate souls in GenderCritical [hi there, stalkers!] by bragging about the full extent of our lady-face fetishism, narcissistic boundary violation, and general autogynephilic depravity.

I'm sure the FTTs will have their own "I'm such a traitor to wombyn-kind that..." tales to tell.

To get the ball rolling:

  • I'm such a woman-face pervert that... my train of thought when entering a women's bathroom for the first time was "damnit no gender-neutral option available... OK, then, the women's it is... let's hope it's not crowded... oh thank mother hydra, the cubicles have floor-to-ceiling masonry partitions, and fully fitting doors... OK done, let's wash my hands and get the hell out of here... OH MY GOD THE TAP ISN'T WORKING! EVERYTHING'S GOING WRONG! THIS IS A DISASTER! ... OK, stay calm and move to the next sink... phew it works... now leave... I'm out of the door! I'm out of the door! I SURVIVED!". In other words, every fetish satisfied.

  • I'm such a woman-face pervert that... it never occurred to me to try on women's underwear pre-transition, and I still wear a mixture of male and female, as I gradually phase out my male clothing. In fact, so obsessed I am with my underwear, I have no idea what I'm wearing at the moment, other than it would have been the first thing I grabbed out of the drawer. Autogynephilia FTW!

  • I'm such a woman-face pervert that... everything I wear is pink, if by "everything" you mean nothing besides a woolen scarf that has little flecks of pink in it. I'm also the proud owner of lots of sparkly high-heeled shoes. A total of zero, in fact.

Can anyone better my sheer depravity?

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📅︎ Mar 01 2017
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[PI] You tried to commit suicide, but as it turns out you are immortal. Now you have to call someone to help you cut the rope. Awkward.

Original Prompt, thanks to /u/Gamekiller48 for inspiring this grim tale out of me.

I had been meaning to write something for this prompt for quite awhile and finally found the time to do it. Hope you all enjoy.


###On Letting Go.

Chloe Dunnigan was oddly calm on the walk from the classroom center to her dorm room perched at the opposite end of campus. Despite having about a mile walk ahead of her, she could see the seventh floor of the dorm looming over the tops of the other buildings, her room nestled towards the middle of the floor, next to the bathroom where her alarm clock was the sound of the showers turning on around 6:30 in the morning. The track team was on the 7th floor, and it was running season. Chloe shrugged, bringing her jacket closer around her thin body. Having to get up that early just to go run in the cold morning, now that must be Hell.

On the way back, she passed by faces she had no intention of ever seeing again; faces that seemed familiar from the corner of the eye, but when you looked at them directly, no, just another stranger, passing by, heading to a class where they would undoubtedly not pay attention. Chloe smiled slightly. She couldn't give those students too much shit about how they were handling their classes. Look at her, she was about to throw everything away despite having somewhat decent grades. Sure, she would certainly make for an excellent audiologist, but that wasn't going to be in the cards for her.

I am going to get it right this time.

In the classroom, well, in any social setting really, Chloe was a nervous bundle of tendons and jittery bones. Her voice in class was frail, as so it was in the cafeteria, and in the dorm. During that semester's first hall meeting, everyone had to stand up and give a brief intro to themselves. Chloe barely squeaked hers out.

"I want to help children with hearing disorders," she muttered.

I really want to die.

The thought of suicide chewed away at her bones, at the curvature of her spine, reducing her to a spiritually gelatinous mess of a young woman. She fought it at first. Then gave in one time.

She shivered as she passed by the cafeteria. It was 6:35PM and it was closing. There were several students piling in, attempting to get a quick bite to eat before the doors closed. She brought her hood up and covered her ears, smiling again. *Wouldn't do well to

... keep reading on reddit ➡

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📅︎ Aug 08 2016
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The Dutiful Knight

Nearly a score of men gathered in the courtyard of the Griffin’s Roost to see their Lady back home. Lady Jeyne Buckler’s host made to depart no later than dawn the morning following the Tarth fleet’s own departure, just as she had promised Simon they would.

He had been saddled and smiling to meet his aunt the morning of, offering to open her carriage door for her and even to lead her train through the Griffin’s Throat himself, noting how much of an honor it would be to do so. That had given her a chuckle, before she waved him more towards the center of their party.

Simon could admit, that may have been a bit presumptuous of him, yet the idea of being free from Orys’ watching eye and possible chopping block was simply too enticing for the new knight of the Bronzegate to bare.

He was leaving. Finally leaving. And although it was not to go pledge his sword to his kin’s cause, it was also not to be at the front lines of their murder’s host.

A victory, however small.

The first day of their travels had been clear of sky and mild weather, yet the days that followed were foul to say the least.

A sleeting rain came fast and furious when they broke down their camp along the northern roads from Connington’s keep. They chose the coastal instead of mountain paths as a result, yet by the time the bay was in sight, the rains were through in favor of a heavy snow the made their already slowed pace come to a sluggish crawl.

The white flurries and dark grey clouds made day and night nearly indistinguishable. Simon and his fellow knights did their best to brace themselves against the harshest of the winds that accompanied it all, but they left the journey far more silent than Simon anticipated.

Either being huddled under his cloak or near meager campfires were both debilitating obstacles for the knight’s attempts at conversation one their own. Yet even when he had the chance, it became clear rather quickly silence and his musings were all he’d find for company on the road to Bronzegate. Well, those, and his trusty mare who would whinny when he scratched behind her ears.

Despite it all, he endured with a more modest but still present smile on his cheeks, albeit hidden by his thick woolen scarf.

These men served Lord Buckler. It only made sense that they saw him through a suspicious lense.

Simon’s outbursts, as Lord Orys continuously liked to call them in his attempts to belittle his rightful say, had been a public affair. The Tarth first felt the results

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👍︎ 8
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📅︎ Nov 04 2019
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[PI] Rarelyfunny - You are always early. Early for meetings and parties. Early to sleep and wake. Recently though, you have been early in new ways. You celebrate goals 10 seconds early, answer questions before they're asked and even react to news before it's broken.

For a man so steeped in violence, it was surprising how much restraint Jacques Dubois displayed in the days leading to the confrontation.

The baby was his priority. He sold everything of worth in his apartment, the radio, the flat-screen, even the toaster which dinged so chirpily every morning. He dug up the milk-tins he had buried in the nearby field, and was relieved to find that the insects had not gotten to the rolls of notes within. He brought his accumulated fortune to an older woman he trusted, someone he had helped out in a pinch a long time ago. Jacques trusted her, though in truth there was no one else he could have turned to. He pressed little Rosalyn into her arms, along with a satchel stuffed to the brim. He turned and left as she peppered him with questions, and for a moment he felt like a porcupine, with a dozen unanswered queries sticking out like spines from his back.

Next was tracking the witch down. She went by many names – the Lady in Black, Dame Noire, the Walking Curse. Everyone knew of her. Everyone had a story or two about her, and most had even seen her with their own eyes, tottering down the sidewalk as people crossed the street just to avoid her. But it seemed that no-one actually knew where she lived, or where to find her in a hurry. In that Jacques was reminded of the police – she was always there when you least wanted her around, but she could never be found when she was actually needed. Persistence paid off, and Jacques eventually chanced upon a few of the older folk who actually knew Dame Noire from her youth. He didn’t even need to apply much pressure to find out what he wanted. It was unsurprising to him that she lived by herself, out in the woods, in a little trailer park that had been the domain of gypsies and vagabonds for a hundred years.

The final step was in deciding upon the precise act of retribution. Jacques knew this was important, more important that it would seem to anyone else unfamiliar with the sort of barbarity he dealt with on a daily basis. He couldn’t just show up with a metal bat, for example. He would certainly succeed in extracting his revenge, but the blows from a blunt instrument would likely knock Dame Noire out completely. She wouldn’t feel much. She wouldn’t feel a tenth of the pain she had put him through. The punishment had to fit the crime. Jacques drew upon his vast experience as the enforcer in his gang, and he finally settled on a small number of possibilities, leading him to pack his

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📅︎ Feb 24 2019
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30 tips for people moving to Scotland

I have been living in Scotland for the last 7 months. I just had this idea of writing down a list of things that I've learnt so far. I know there's a lot of things I've missed out and if you can think of any other tips feel free to contribute in the comments. I want to say I love Scotland and I don't mean to offend anyone, it's just my personal view on some things. Also, I live in the West Lothian area, so some of the things are not representative of the rest of the country.


Weather

  1. You have to accept that you will be cold when outside at least 70% of the time.

  2. The trick for dressing properly is: light internal layers for when inside buildings (cause it’s usually warm everywhere you go), heavy/multiple coats/jackets for when outside.

  3. Always carry some sort of rain protection, like a small umbrella or a hat. Personally and following what seems to be the trend, hoodies are the best for this effect.

Smoking

  1. If you smoke, be prepared to have to stand in the cold outside for your cigarette. They are very anti-smoking in the UK.

  2. Cigarettes are expensive. Be prepared to cut down or start rolling your own cigarettes. And Lucky Strikes are hard to get.

Food

  1. If it has haggis in it, it tastes good. Doesn’t matter if it’s proper haggis, fake haggis, cheap haggis, veggie haggis, all the kinds that I’ve tried so far were good.

  2. It can be a challenge finding good ingredients for homemade food. Especially if you don’t have access to a big supermarket.

  3. The good part is, there are loads of options of pre-made stuff you can just cook in the oven/microwave and they can be quite good and sometimes even healthy. Choose wisely.

  4. Take-aways are a temptation. Some can be cheap and there are so many options that you feel tempted to do it every night. But it’s not as cheap as it looks and you get the risk of food poisoning. Learning which take-away does the good pizzas, which does the good burgers AND which doesn’t give you diarrhea can be a challenge. Mastering the art of the take-away is something that comes with time.

  5. There are a lot of fried things. Like a deep fried Mars bar. I tend to avoid them to be honest, but it’s just my preference.

  6. I have never seen so many options of sweets and chocolates before. Even the smallest shop will have a wide collection. Be careful with that. And chips. Everyone has chips as a snack.

Socializing

  1. Most people in shops and services are lovely and friendly. Usually very helpful as well. Ex
... keep reading on reddit ➡

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📰︎ r/Scotland
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📅︎ Mar 21 2013
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Short Story: Palisade

((The first part of a little project I've wanted to put together for a while. Thought you folks might enjoy it. If you do, I'll definitely continue. I might continue even if you don't! :P ))

“Look, I don’t know what to tell you,” the Zangoose growled, its red eyes rolling. “You’re not gettin’ in.”

Jax wouldn’t back down. The little Bagon’s was just as hard headed as he looked, and not even a Palisade Zangoose could talk him down, not when he had his mind set on something.

But Cinder knew it was useless. The guard Pokemon had looked sour before they even approached him, and he hadn’t regarded them with anything other than disinterest since they made their request. Behind the Zangoose, the great wooden gate stood closed, built from one of the ancient Palisade trees. There was no sneaking past and certainly no breaking through, not that they’d even get the chance to try.

The gate was dark and massive, sturdy as any of the proud sentinel trees that dotted the mountainside. The chains that would lift it open were old and looked to be thick as a Gyarados. They connected to winches down on the ground, just behind the Zangoose. A few guild Pokemon loitered near the metal bars of the winches. A Machamp, bundled in furs and wearing a coarse sort of hat, buried all four of his hands into various pockets, bracing against the snow. A Mudsdale snorted restlessly, its breath turning to mist in the air. Cinder could not help but notice the harness that connected it to the winch, but it made no move to stride forward and pull the gate open, instead just walking in place to keep its blood flowing. There was a Sneasel, too, sitting on top of the winch, and smiling impetuously at Cinder.

The great gate would not be budging for them, not tonight.

“We came all this way!” Jax was shouting, waving his little arms and raising his voice as though the other Pokemon weren’t twice his age and thrice his size.

The Zangoose sighed, crossing his arms. He reached with his long claws to adjust the woolen scarf, pulling it tighter about his neck as he winced against a particularly cold blast of wind.

“That’s not my fault, kid. Don’t know what you expected. You’ve no business with us, and we don’t want you.”

Jax opened his mouth to answer, but Cinder padded up to his friend and brushed his arm with a paw. Jax looked over at him and gritted his fangs together. For a moment, Cinder thought Jax wouldn’t relent, but when the Bagon sighed, Cinder knew that even he could see it was p

... keep reading on reddit ➡

👍︎ 11
💬︎
👤︎ u/creganreed
📅︎ Jun 24 2019
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Annual "whats in your membership pack?" post

So what did we all get?

I got a 'pashmina' (a woolen scarf would break my fragile neck), an apron, a pin and a bumper sticker.

Anyone get anything better?

👍︎ 7
📰︎ r/AFL
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👤︎ u/Britt2211
📅︎ Mar 25 2015
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(spoilers all) Red eyes, blue eyes, and a thought on coldhands

I am re-reading ADWD and noticed a few things

There have been several concerns about if the Greenseers and Others are in alliance somehow. Which does not quite make sense but is a concerning idea. Mel thinks that too, we know better.

The others and wights are always with blue eyes. The drowned god according to Moqorro is a peon of the great other. Ice, water etc.

I don't know if this could mean anything as I'm still trying to piece together westeros mythology and history. The Weirwoods are white with blood red sap, ghosts eyes are red 'like the old gods'. I wonder if these hints could help us piece things together as we learn more?

I noticed a few things with coldhands as well.

When Bran asks why his hands are black, along with everyone noting he does not breathe nor eat, he does not become menacing. He just looks at his hands 'like he had never noticed it before'. He calmly explains the process of death beyond the wall, the blood pooling and turning hands black. He is not a wright as he does not have their blue eyes, and the wights attack him.

He also knows how to understand the ravens speech. Old Nan or one of the Maesters mention somewhere that men in the past (first men?) could understand the speech of ravens. But the people forgot how to speak with them, and had to start tying their messages to them.

Coldhands is obviously Night's Watch. He knows about the gate in the wall, and leads Sam and Gilly there. He himself cannot pass due to wards.

When they near the cave where BloodRaven is, he tells Bran to go to the cave, as it is warded and the wights cannot pass. Bran turns back and calls out to Coldhands 'what about you?!' trying to get him to come, to keep from being hurt by the wrights. He again states The cave is warded.

Also the CotF there when Bran says that the wights will kill him, answers "They killed him long ago...."

I don't think Bran sees coldhands death via the weirwood, its a sacrifice obviously, but I don't think its coldhands.

Coldhands was a brother of the nights watch, long ago who could still understand and speak to the ravens, but the others/wrights killed him. We don't know how he was raised, but it is evident he is his own personality, he is aware and understanding of what is around him. He is not a wight, and he does not appear to be warged as he never rests (giving the warger a chance to do whatever).

The other part I find interesting- the cave is warded.

He never states that the cave is warded agains

... keep reading on reddit ➡

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📰︎ r/asoiaf
💬︎
📅︎ Dec 15 2014
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My village was ravaged during a war, but it wasn't due to a human army...

" Here, your new mittens are done! These ought to serve you well after yesterday's snowstorm left the entire countryside covered in snow. You'll have to bundle up well if you want to go play outside." My older sister said right after she finished knitting me a pair of mittens. Knitting clothes had been her specialty for as long as I could remember, I'll never forget the time she grabbed a pile of spare wool and crafted an adorable sheep costume for me to wear in our village's Mardi Gras costume party, in fact, knitting clothes and selling them on commission or at the village's market was one of our family's main sources of income. And by our family, I only mean my older sister and I, since we were the only ones that were left, being 19 and 9 years old respectively.

During its greatest extent, our household had consisted of 5 people: My father, my mother, my older brother, my older sister and I, the youngest child and second daughter, and I would see it gradually shrink before my eyes across my nine years of continued existence. My mother was the first one to go, my father and her attempted to bring another child to the world when I was only 2 years old, but something went wrong in the process, causing her to fall terribly ill and pass away a few weeks afterwards. My father was the next one, he left home when I was 7 years old alongside a large number of other men, as our Emperor had called them all to go to Russia and he never came back. Lastly, my 16 year old brother had left us only a few months ago, not unlike my father, he had also been called by our Emperor, only this time, it was to join him on a daring campaign to defend our country from an impending invasion by a coalition of other nations we were at war with.

So I bundled up by putting on my new pair of mittens as well as a thick and fluffy fur coat that covered my entire body from the top of my shoulders to the end of my legs ,and lastly, a long woolen scarf which my sister had also knitted for me in the past that I wrapped around my head, covering it as well as my ears and neck. After getting properly dressed to face the low temperatures, I joyfully said goodbye to my sister and stepped outside my house, ready to spend that chilly December afternoon having fun in my snow-coated humble little village tucked away at the edge of a relatively dense and remote forest.

I loved playing and roaming around my village and its surroundings, especially now that the first snowfalls had arrived and had

... keep reading on reddit ➡

👍︎ 3
📰︎ r/mrcreeps
💬︎
📅︎ Jan 01
🚨︎ report
The Water Task - Horror Short Story (I wrote) inspired by Algerian old and creepy real/folk stories...

I owe the rights of the story as I'm its Author.

It's a scary story from Algerian Folklore...

You can find a link to an audio at the end...

“Where is Louisa?” Fatiha asked.

“She went to the well, as usual” her mother said.

“I know, but it’s been two hours now. It takes only half an hour to go there, fill two cans then return back home”

From the only window of the small terracotta house, mother and daughter took a look outside… It was sunset, but the sixteen years old girl didn’t show yet.

Fatiha complained: “What a tradition! To send a young girl to the well, this village’s inhabitants are insane”

“As far as I remember, bringing water from the well had always been young girls’ task” The mother answered.

“Nevertheless, I hated my water task

“It should be all right, we know almost every family in the village”

“And what about Djin stories you used to tell us about?” Fatiha asked with a suspicious look.

“We… We told you these to prevent you from wandering everywhere in the forest”

“You thought it would be better to give us nightmares?!”

“Nightmares happen at home and they never harm anyone, while wandering outside…” The mother said with a little smile.

“Do Djins even exist?”

“Yes, according to religion. But I don’t know if we can really see them or contact them… ”

“You mean those scary stories about cursed interspecies marriages and the use and abuse of mutilated corpses were actually folklore?!” Fatiha said with a mix of sarcasm and anger.

“Maybe” her mother answered.

#

An hour later, the two women were definitely worried, so Fatiha decided: “I’m going out to find her!”

“Do you want me to get killed by your father?” the mother complained.

At that time, the father entered, holding a few branches. He was obviously exhausted: “I hope chekhchoukha is ready! I confess I have great appetite!”

The mother didn’t dare to speak a word but Fatiha did: “Father, Louisa is still out there, she didn’t come back from the well”

“What are you saying?” The father asked with a mix of anger and fear.

“She is still out” the mother answered with fear. Fatiha didn’t know what was frightening her mother the most: her husband’s wrath or her daughter’s absence.

The father didn’t say a word, he took an oil lamp, a rope and a sickle then went out.

#

One hour passed then two, then three… The night was really dark and a little wind was blowing moving leaves on trees and making scary sounds.

At some point, the sound of a falling can coming from the g

... keep reading on reddit ➡

👍︎ 2
📰︎ r/stories
💬︎
📅︎ Jul 29 2021
🚨︎ report
(Spoilers Extended) Coldhands=...

No one. Is he really a Faceless Man?

Not sure, but there are some striking similarities between Coldhands and Braavosi.

#Wears a scarf to cover his face

>The ranger sat astride his broad back, grim and silent. Coldhands was the name that the fat boy Sam had given him, for though the ranger’s face was pale, his hands were black and hard as iron, and cold as iron too. The rest of him was wrapped in layers of wool and boiled leather and ringmail, his features shadowed by his hooded cloak and a black woolen scarf about the lower half of his face.

Much like the Braavosi tradition of Unmasking, to celebrate the city being revealed to the world, Coldhands covers the features of his face.

#Sam owes him a life

>Three times he had sworn to keep the secret; once to Bran himself, once to that strange boy Jojen Reed, and last of all to Coldhands. “The world believes the boy is dead,” his rescuer had said as they parted. “Let his bones lie undisturbed. We want no seekers coming after us. Swear it, Samwell of the Night’s Watch. Swear it for the life you owe me.”

That last line sounds suspiciously like the matra "only life can pay for death". Sam owes the Many Faced God for his life being saved.

#Speaks another language

>"Jojen just needs to eat," Bran said, miserably. It had been twelve days since the elk had collapsed for the third and final time, since Coldhands had knelt beside it in the snowbank and murmured a blessing in some strange tongue as he slit its throat.

What kind of thing is said when an animal like this dies? "Thank you for your service and the sustenance you are about to bring us, your death is not in vain"?

The Faceless Men say "valar morghulis" and "valar doheris" when someone dies. Is this what Coldhands said to the elk? Would be an appropriate phrase at a time such as that.

#Doesn't go by a name

>"I don't like him. And I don't trust him. Those hands of his are bad enough. He hides his face, and will not speak a name. Who is he? What is he? Anyone can put on a black cloak. Anyone, or any thing. He does not eat, he never drinks, he does not seem to feel the cold.

Coldhands is the name Gilly and the fat one give him, he doesn't supply a name. Just like the Faceless Men.

#Added Bonus

-His face is pale white and his hands are black. House of Black and White.

👍︎ 29
📰︎ r/asoiaf
💬︎
👤︎ u/Wild2098
📅︎ Apr 17 2020
🚨︎ report
Snowstorms are deadly in more ways than one...

The weather forecast said it loud and clear: A brutal snowstorm was coming our way, a blizzard that had seldom been seen in our local area, given its temperate climate. We were already accustomed to having cold winters, but the low temperatures were usually a product of the chilly wind and the humid atmosphere, it rarely ever snowed, in fact, it hadn't snowed in over two decades, and even in the extremely exceptional cases where it had snowed in the past, it hadn't come anywhere close to the historic snowfall the forecaster had announced. The townsfolk reacted with awe and fascination. We children were ecstatic, we finally had the chance to play in the snow, just like we had seen kids do on countless movies and TV shows. A few people, however, were in disbelief, they thought a blizzard of such magnitude was impossible in our town, given its climate, geographical location and previous history with snow, with some even calling the event unnatural.

I woke up that January morning of 1994 and immediately jumped out of bed and peeked through the window...to my disappointment, it wasn't snowing yet, but I still had hope, after all, the day had just started, there was still plenty of opportunity for it to snow.

After having breakfast, I spoke with my best friend Theo on the telephone, he asked me if I wanted to go out to play with him, to which I happily said yes.

"Where do you think you're going, missy?" my mother said as I was about to open the front door and exit the house.

"I'm going out to play with Theo!" I yelled.

"Have you forgotten about the deadly blizzard that's coming our way? The weather forecast recommends we should all stay at home, warm and cozy!"

"But mom, it's not snowing yet! I promise I'll come back before the blizzard starts!" I said, trying to convince her to let me go.

"I understand you're a little girl and you want to play, and that's fantastic and completely normal for a child your age, but today is not a good day for that. Safety comes first!" My mother replied.

"Oh, please! It'll be just a moment! I've already told Theo I would go!" I exclaimed. My mother let out a long sigh of reluctance.

"Fine...I suppose it's not dangerous if there's no snowstorm yet...But please be careful, dear! " My mother said, I nodded in response.

"Thanks mom!"

"Hey, wait a minute! I'll let you go, but that puny cardigan you're wearing won't protect you from the cold! Hold on a second, come to my room..." she added before forcing me to bundle up with

... keep reading on reddit ➡

👍︎ 19
📰︎ r/nosleep
💬︎
📅︎ Jan 12 2021
🚨︎ report

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