Just over here changing a weird dress into a perfect skirt

Helena - Courtlady of Lannisport

Part 1

Reddit Account: SunstriderAlar
Discord Tag: u/SunstriderAlar
Name and House: Helena
Age: 22
Cultural Group: Westerman
Appearance: Helena is a young woman with soft doe-eyes, and unmistakable curling, golden hair. Raised by smallfolk, and Septa’s she wears her hair up and away from her face to ensure she does not let it get wet while cleaning or in her mouth while singing. She has delicate, porcelain, pale skin and cloudy soft blue eyes. No taller than 5’5” and is most often dressed in conservative simple fashions gathered by herself, or more elegant options gifted to her by a doting patron for formal events. Never shy to present her opinion, Helena has seen the world change, and her place in it numerous times. She is unafraid to do what she must, but knows the role of a woman.
Helena prefers to wear blue and yellow, the colours of Lord Swyft’s old sigil even though she has not lived in Cornfield for many years, and has no personal attachment to the house. Her real love though is unique broaches, and hairpins, different pins reveal different favours or stylings for different lords. She does enjoy crafting dresses as well, when the rare bolt of fabric comes her way she enjoys sewing and tailoring. She is often seen carrying a unique wooden six stringed lyre, or a three stringed lute; the former the cause for her name the Six Eyed Singer. She daps herself with lavender water most mornings, and cleans her teeth with mint, and rose now that she is employed by the Lannisters of Lannisport. Clean teeth are the hallmark of a charming, easy smile to make hearts of men and women alike flutter.
Trait: Elusive Shadow
Skill(s): Espionage, Devious, Schemer, Covert, Rumourmonger
Talent(s): Storyteller, lyre playing, deft fingers
Negative Trait(s): N/A
Starting Title(s): The Six-Eyed Singer, Septa Morgan, Jinny of Aegon’s Rest
Starting Location: Opening event

Part 2: Biography

Swyft Sept (3AC - 15AC)
Helena’s early life began in the Sept of Cornfield where her mother begged the Septa’s to take her. Dutifully, though reluctantly, they agreed, for what else were they to do, and where else was the girl to go. To the Governess of Cornfield, under the sanctity of the confessional, the woman, aching from the pain of birth and shame, confessed that the little girl was the bastard of Lord Swyft. The Governess, doubtful but knowing the man was not without vice, kept the secret to herself and allowed the girl to remain. The woman, who’s name was never revealed even to the Septa's, fled into the night shortly after never to be seen again. Helena was then, as promised, raised by the septas and the Governess of House Swyft. She learns basic literacy from the Seven Pointed Star with the Sisters and numbers from the Governess. Alongside her studies, she was put to work on chores like maid work, baking, cooking, cleaning, and serving Lord Swyft.
In 11AC, a travelling minstrel named The Lying Lyre arrived at Cornfield. A dashing young man with a shock of blonde curls that tumbled down his back like a mullet captivated Helena with his songs of far-off lands and noble families. In particular he sang of the Maiden’s Bay Tourney, the feats of House Targaryen, and after some time the Field of Fire and the failings of House Lannister. House Swyft was wealthy, and the Liar’s talents earned him much and more coin from the silver mines.
Helena of an age where curiosity ruled a child’s mind was enamoured with the man and his songs. She took up practising the lyre with him, and discovered that while no maestro, she had deft fingers and a mind for lyrics. Impressed by her interest and talent, the Liar gifted her a lyre before he left for future profits in far off lands. Some years of practice though, and a natural storyteller and rumourmonger Helena combined tales of the Seven Pointed Star and was invited to sing in the sept and even twice for Lord Swyft.
Six Eyed Singer (15AC - 20AC)
It was not to last though and following the slaughter in the Kingswood, the line of House Swyft was extinguished. Not wanting to test the new residents of Cornfield, the Warriors Sons and Poor Fellows, after all, all men have vice, she left Cornfield, and took to singing on the road. Going under the name Lyrebird, Helena played and sang for her coin and lodgings, a young girl protected only by being seen when she wanted and an elusive shadow when she did not.
Times on the road were not easy and The Lyrebird drew much attention. This necessitated the need for another alter ego and after a year on the road and towns and villages through the West were soon visited by the travelling Septa Morgan. The Septa heard confessions and sins, gave forgiveness and offered small advice to the poor and needy. She spared coins where she could and allowed Helena to remain covert. It did not matter to most that she was no real septa, she wore the robes, knew the words, and offered as a good moral compass to children. For most in the far flung reaches of the West she was enough.
Being raised in the faith though telling a perpetual lie about being a sister of the cloth was a little too much to bear for Helena. After a year with the reputation of Septa Morgan growing through the small folks of small villages, the Septa soon faded away. Instead Jinny of Aegon’s Rest started coming to smaller castles; Turnbury, Redbramble, Parren Hall, Oldstars and the like. She took on odd jobs cleaning, cooking, teaching a daughter to read or a son to do his numbers. She was after all no threat, knew her letters and numbers herself, and was capable of scheming many a septa or fatherly gatesman to let her in.
Jinny of Aegon’s Rest became a traveller through the keeps of the Westerlands. She heard the tales from children and small folk alike. She had never meant to undertake espionage, but her place inside various courts across the land, and her talent for being in the right place at the right time meant she was an unfortunate witness to many a courtly intrigue. As her small gifts earned her again a broad reputation she would be traded between greater lords. Soon she was playing for the elite, and earning the rewards that came with it. Helena of Cornfield once again took a new name, the Six Eyed Singer, which she quickly used to escape her courtly life and take again to the road as a travelling minstrel.
The Strawberry Tourney and Ball (20AC - Current)
The Six Eyed Singer formed a little bard troupe, nothing extravagant, she wasn’t playing for the Lannisters or the Targaryen’s yet, but enough to provide several shows across the Westerlands, Reach, and former Kingdom of the Trident. Her troupe, much like she had been accidentally, was devious, and while she or they sang, pockets were pinched, and many houses were looted. Her troupe when apart played for all the minor and middle nobles of the Trident and of the Reach too now. She and they were as much a part of the debauchery of the West as any of the wealthy merchants. There was no party too scandalous, no whorehouse unsung, no court too far flung for the right price and the West had gold burning through pockets.
The Six Eyed Singer was not the only bard with a troupe though and soon through the Kingdoms after Aegon’s conquest artisans, bards, and mummers alike filled the world with talent. In 20AC the Songbird made its mark, and with a little bit of fun, a lot of resentment for nobility, and an ingrained childlike sense of chaos, the first of the Songbirds’ letters sang. The voice of the little people flooded across the western coast of the Iron Throne. Lord Belaerys’ dragon had eaten several children whilst growing fat and hungry. Lancel Lannister had claimed the maidenhood of his chambermaid, and sired a bastard all at the age of just fifteen. Lord Frey schemed against his overlord for a free and independent Trident once again. Was all of it true? Impossible to say, but there were enough truths to turn heads, and the songs of the Songbird began to cause chaos in the Westerlands most of all. The Six Eyed Singer and her troupe played through it all, they were bards, but the Songbird was the most famous one of all; not their little merry band.
The Six Eyed Singer though continued her good work, and with her reputation came an invite to participate at the Strawberry Tourney and Ball alongside the other bardic troupes of the West and Reach. She was not so famous as to be alone, merely enough to earn an invite, and a paid job. The planning was years long, and with new songs and tunes came new rumours. While the Six-Eyed Singer played songs such as Fleece-eye, Dornish Sour Grapes, and Lion of the West, the Songbird worked their chaos.
A ripple pulsed through the tourney, first a cheater in the joust was revealed, Ser Byron who was disqualified as a result. Then a second cheater, this time in the melee, then a third cheater again in the joust Lord Payne had accepted a bribe from Lord Reyne to fall early. Cheating in the tourney was just the start, cheating in the bedroom of the ball was the main affair. Here the Songbird revealed three affairs; Lords Serret and Lyden were both fathers to children on women , not their wives. While Lady Serret and Lady Ruskin were bedfriends behind their husbands’ backs. There was one final scandal though, which was revealed to all at the tourney. Septon Karron was no true anointed Septon, and worse there was legitimacy to foulness surrounding young boys who served him.
The chaos broke over the tourney and all the artisans in attendance were forced to flee. Yet, all was not lost, for Lord Gerold Lannister of Lannisport had taken his eye to Helena and her playing. He offered her a job, for he wished to be a great sponsor of art in the new Seven Kingdoms. So it was she came to a courtly position, advising the Lord Lannister on matters of fine art, musicians, mummery, and all manner of artisanal dealings.
Timeline
3AC - Helena is born in the Sept of Cornfield, her mother a woman from Silverhill who begs the septa’s to take the girl in. She reveals her identity to the Governess of House Swyft, and claims the child is Lord Swyft’s bastard. She leaves shortly after giving birth and recovering.
4-10AC - She is raised in the cloister with the sisters, her Septa mothers raising her lessons on reading from the Seven Pointed Star, and numbers from the Governess to ensure that she can do basic arithmetic. She takes basic lessons in scullery maid work, baking, and general service work for old Lord Swyft.
11AC - A travelling minstrel, The Lying Lyre, comes through Cornfield to sing songs of the tourney of Maiden’s Bay, House Targaryen, and the Field of Fire. He takes a liking to the young Helena, and gifts her a lyre. He stays in Cornfield for some time, both because it is lucrative and because he enjoys teaching the young girl.
12-14AC - The Lying Lyre departs Cornfield but leaves a talented and hardworking Helena with the sisters once more. She takes to singing sections of the Seven Pointed Star, and even performs for Lord Swyft a few times.
15AC - The House of Swyft dies out and Helena, unaware of her claimed parentage but with a talent for song leaves the cloister and takes to the road, not trusting the new Warriors Sons or Poor Fellows. She uses the name Lyrebird and sings and plays her lyre for coin to survive.
16AC - After a year on the road Helena takes up the name Septa Morgan and takes to hearing confessions of the poor and needy across the Westerlands. Many of them need guidance and wearing her septa robes she is the perfect person to hear them. She is no real Septa but no amount of explaining the technicality of that stops people asking her to forgive them.
17AC - Her reputation as Septa Morgan grows a little too heavy on her shoulders, and Helena takes to wearing more common clothes, moving from keep to keep and working as a barmaid, scullery girl, and baker amongst other professions. She goes by the name Jinny of Aegon’s Rest.
18AC - Chance takes its favour on her, and Helena with her simple lyre is invited to play at a feast in Lannisport. Dressed now as a travelling minstrel she performs for the gathered nobles and earns herself invitations to other keeps. With her generous benefactors she hires a small troupe to perform her songs across the West.
19AC - Travelling the Westerlands, Helena under the moniker The Six Eyed Singer, takes her talents for being present at feasts and gatherings of all sorts.
20AC - Rumour of The Songbird takes hold, and the West is awash in the voice of the little people.
21AC - The Strawberry Tourney and Ball unfolds and Helena’s skills earn her favour with Lord Gerold Lannister.
22AC - Lord Gerold Lannister recognising her many talents picked her up to be one of the primary serving women in his House. His eye for artistic endeavours endeared him to her enough for a comfortable place as a favoured bard, painter, educator, and common court woman.

My hands are shaking as I write this, I have to document my story incase something happens to me in the next few days. I'm not sure where to begin but I suppose here is better than anywhere.
I've always had this weird feeling, this sensation inside of me that I was older than I actually was. By the time I was twelve, my soul felt as though it was forty. By the time I reached twenty, I felt like an old woman. I would watch people around my age acting foolish, and I always thought, "What a bunch of children." So it was no surprise to anyone that when I turned twenty-one, I left my hometown and college and decided to spend the summer alone by renting an old farmhouse in an insignificant town on the edge of an even more insignificant border.
When I told my mother, she had a veritable fit, unable to find the words. She spluttered and raged around me for days before I finally left early one morning to avoid her guilt and frustration with my choices. I was not sure why I craved solitude at such a young age, why I found solace in being alone and removed from society.
In high school, I had changed unexpectedly, cutting my long blonde hair short and dying it black, getting piercings that my mother loathed and claimed no young lady should have. You see, my mother was raised proper, as she called it. Good family, good husband, and finally a good life. She despised her perfect life being squashed by my alternative looks and feelings of the same world. She just didn't understand me or the world as it changed around her. I felt like I was just a trophy to her and my father, her perfect angel who had been tainted by my own demented thoughts.
I never told my parents where I was staying, one last rebellious mission before leaving for a few months, and it took me only a few hours to arrive at the farmhouse where I would be staying for the next few months. The land around the farm was dead or dying, old crops rose out of the dry dusty earth and had turned black and forgotten, as if this land was the example of dreams long forgotten and empty. A single dreary lane connected this desolate farmhouse to the rest of the world. On the outside, it was drab and looked as though it would fall apart. It had two stories but still seemed cramped and small, as if it were a single floor tied to the ground.
Across from the house, bordering the tall weeds that had reclaimed much of the farmland, stood a maudlin-looking faded red barn, one door propped open in a dejected manner revealing naught to me but shadows, dust, and a little mystery.
Next to the barn, staked into the ground on an old-looking cross, was a ragged scarecrow. It had drab brown clothing, but its face was oddly realistic, like it was watching me with a disapproving manner. Straw poked through its joints at odd angles like they were trying to break free from their confines. The scarecrow obviously didn't do its job as it was covered in no less than three crows.
I parked my car next to the barn and stepped out into the dusty yard before the farmhouse that I would make my home for the next few months. I checked under the front mat for the key and put it in the lock.
With a satisfying click, the door fell inward into the farmhouse. Surprisingly, the inside of the farmhouse was modern, clean, and looked quite inviting. I could smell the fresh paint on the walls, and everything was so white. The realtor had told me she would stop by tomorrow to collect the rent, and she had tried to chat my ear off on the phone about all the renovations she and her son were doing on the place.
I sighed with contentment and tossed my bags beside the door. I dug around in my bag and removed my camera, my father's old film shooter as he called it. I had taken up the hobby years ago for what I called capturing the oddity in the world.
I explored the small house a little more; the ground floor consisted of a single room and small bathroom with a shower. The bedroom was upstairs and was the only room, the stairs connected directly to the white and pink monstrosity that was the master bedroom. The pillows had laces on them and almost made me gag from the cuteness. There was even cute white lace curtains on the window with little flowers stitched onto them.
Out of the only window of the room, I could see the barn and the scarecrow. I aimed my camera at the pair and snapped a photo. From this angle, the scarecrow appeared to be staring straight at me. It stood next to the left side of the barn in a dejected manner like a chastised child.
A shudder involuntarily ran through me at the sight, but I moved on back downstairs. It was getting close to dinner time now, and I had brought some food with me.
After a few minutes, I had my dinner on the stove cooking and the crickets chirping outside the open window. As I sat down to eat next to the window, I felt at peace for one of the first times in years. The solitude of this old farm was exactly what I needed. The window supplied a nice breeze that wafted through the place, it smelled of grass and warm summer nights, made me feel at peace. The simple dish of spaghetti with tomato sauce and a glass of wine was all that I needed right here, right now in this moment.
That night I climbed into the frilly laced bed and sunk into the claustrophobic mattress. I felt like Goldilocks in the mama bear's bed as it was altogether too soft. From my perfumed bed, I had a good view out the window. I had left the porch light on, and it cast an eerie glow across the yard. The barn loomed ominously, stalwart against the light of the porch, like it was protecting the shadows from the battering ram of light. The somber scarecrow leaned against the left side of the barn.
With a small jump, I thought I saw its arm move slightly. I peered through my camera using the zoom to get a better view of the scarecrow. It was completely still in the night, and I laughed quietly to myself at my silliness. I had always enjoyed horror movies, but there was no chance I was living in one. I settled back into bed and put my camera down. Within a few minutes, I fell into sleep's warm embrace.
What felt like only a few minutes later, I sat up in bed. It was still dark out, I could hear crickets chirping through the open window, and I strained my ears for a moment.
I thought something had woken me up. I felt a cold shiver run down my spine as a cold breeze wafted in through the window. I pulled the frilly blanket up around myself when I heard it. A thud sounded below me, shaking the whole world into silence. The crickets stopped chirping, and my heart felt like it had stopped beating. Someone was in the house. I hadn't locked the door or closed the kitchen window, and now someone was downstairs. A second thud sounded like a boot on the staircase. Then another and another as something was slowly moving up the stairs towards the room.
I don't know why I did it, but something came over me. I wasn't big or especially brave, but my normal cowardice in social situations changed instantly. With a dash, I tore across the room, flicking on the lights, ready to face my attacker, to defend myself against male or female. I would fight, and I would win.
But as the lights turned on, ready to strike with my foot, nothing was there. The staircase was empty, and upon further inspection, the entire house was empty. The kitchen window was open, and I shut and locked it securely before checking the door. Nothing. I sat down on the couch, my heart pounding out of my chest, as I tried to make sense of what had just happened.
"I must have still been half-asleep," I said aloud to the room in a thinly veiled attempt to calm my nerves. It failed horribly, but I went with it. What else could you do in a situation like that?
After locking up the house, I went back up to that frilly four-poster bed in the bedroom and stared out the window. Nothing was in the yard except my car, the barn, and the same old sad-looking scarecrow staring across the yard.
Day 2
The next morning, I woke up to the soft light filtering through the lace curtains. Despite the strange events of the previous night, I felt strangely refreshed, as if the morning sun had chased away the shadows that lingered in my mind.
I descended the stairs, the wooden steps creaking softly under my weight, and headed to the kitchen. As I brewed a pot of coffee, my mind wandered back to the events of last night. Was it just a figment of my imagination, or was there really someone in the house?
Shaking off the unease, I decided to explore the farmhouse in the daylight. I wandered through the room, admiring the modern renovations that clashed with the rustic exterior. The farmhouse had a charm to it, despite its eerie surroundings.
As I made my way outside, the cool morning air greeted me, and I took a deep breath, letting the serenity of the countryside wash over me. The barn stood tall against the backdrop of the morning sky, and the scarecrow seemed to watch me as I crossed the yard.
I approached the barn, curiosity getting the better of me. Pushing open the creaky door, I stepped inside, the musty scent of hay filling my nostrils. The interior was dimly lit, the sunlight filtering through the cracks in the wooden walls.
I explored every nook and cranny of the barn, but found nothing out of the ordinary. As I turned to leave, something caught my eye. In the corner of the barn, hidden beneath a pile of old blankets, was a small wooden chest.
My heart racing with anticipation, I lifted the lid of the trunk and peered inside. What I found took my breath away. It was a collection of old photographs, yellowed with age, depicting scenes from a bygone era. They were of a man with his family, two young kids, and a beautiful young wife. The man had yellow blonde hair, almost like straw in texture, but he smiled so happily with his family.
I sifted through the photographs, my fingers trembling with excitement. Who had left these behind, and why? Each photograph seemed to tell a story, a glimpse into the past of this forgotten farmhouse.
As I sat there, lost in thought, a sudden noise jolted me back to reality. It was the sound of footsteps coming from outside the barn.
"Hello?" The dreamy voice of a woman called to me from the entrance to the barn.
I slammed the lid of the trunk shut, closing the memories up in a flurry as I spun around to be greeted by a quite pretty woman with blonde hair and a pink suit skirt combo. She had bright pink lipstick, that seemed to be a permanent fixture on her face, and quite shiny and sparkly blue eye shadow on her lids. I myself only wore black eyeliner. This woman was like Barbie in her proportions, thin waist, long hair, and large tracts of land, as my father would have said.
"Oh, hello," I said simply, always awkward in normal social situations.
If she noticed anything odd about me, she breezed over it in an easy manner. Taking me by the shoulders, she led me out of the dusty barn and into the yard.
"You must be Polly. We have been waiting a while for you to come. I simply must know what you think of the renovations to the house. Aren’t they just to die for?" The lady said all in one breath, as if she didn’t need air to speak.
"Yes, they are quite nice..." I started before she cut me off, not in a rude manner but instead in one that she would have continued on even if I had just told her I was not Polly and instead I was a mass murderer looking for my next victim.
"You see, me and my son Eli—yes, Eli, you stop lurking in the shadows over there," she said, continuing on as I noticed a younger man leaning up against the barn. He wore simple clothes of jeans and a white t-shirt but had a handsome face. His hair was brown and hung slightly over his eyes.
"I hope you don’t mind if my son here continues working on some renovations while you stay here? Strictly on the outside of the house, mind you. A fresh coat of white paint would make this little beauty shine. We would have finished by now if not for the accidents," she continued, completely unabashed by my silence.
"Sorry. But you are the realtor?" I said, trying to regain my feet under me.
"Oh my god, I am so sorry, dear!" she said with an affable cackle.
"Yes, yes, I am Barbara, but all my friends call me Barb. That over there is Eli. Eli, come say hi," Barb said while her painted talons rested firmly on my shoulder.
Eli stomped over, keeping his eyes low, in a sort of moody way that actually intrigued me, sort of.
When he glanced up at me, I noticed he drank in me from head to toe, and for the first time, I realized what I was wearing. An old rock t-shirt of one of my favorite bands and, of all things, my black pajama bottoms with cartoon bats on them that said "happy halloween."
I felt my face blush crimson as he made eye contact with me. He had very mysterious eyes of blue that seemed to cut right through my soul.
"Nice shirt," he said while gesturing to me. His voice was quiet and uncertain, as if he didn’t get much practice with the art. Knowing his mother, it seemed highly accurate.
"Thanks. Do you like them?" I asked.
"Oh, he likes all sorts of things, don’t you, Eli? Honestly, you two can gab on forever. But miss, I believe we have a small matter of payment," Barb said, drawing the conversation back to herself.
"Of course. Let me go get it," I said as I went back into the house and retrieved the envelope with the rent money in it.
Barb grabbed the envelope in her bright pink talons and snapped a piece of bubblegum between her teeth. With quick fingers, she leafed through the cash, counting it. As she counted, her normal bubbly personality seemed to disappear, giving way to what I gleaned was her true thoughts and feelings before the facade slipped on once again.
"Mmkay, perfect honey, this is the right amount. Now you have my number, so you call if you need anything. Like I said earlier, Eli will stop by from time to time to work on painting the house. I promise you he won’t be an imposition, just pay him no mind," Barb said in a sweet voice as she popped her gum in between each word.
"Eli, come on, please, I have an appointment in town," Barb said to her son, and they both climbed into a garish pink convertible with jewels hanging from the mirror wrapped in a gold chain.
Barb waved one last time as she sped off out of the driveway, covering me in dust as she spun the wheel around.
With their departure, I went inside and retrieved my camera. I spent a few minutes shooting a few pictures I thought were worthy. I re-entered the barn and pulled the old trunk out into the sunshine. Inside was only a handful of photos, some old clothes, and what looked like some old heirlooms. A beautifully old candlestick and a few leather-bound books lay at the bottom, covered by an old tablecloth. The tablecloth was a nice white with intricate swirling patterns inlaid around the edges.
Why would these things be packed away in here? They were so beautiful. I decided to bring the stuff inside for further inspection. As I lifted the trunk, out of the corner of my eye, I thought I saw something move in the tall grass at the edge of the property. I stared for a minute, but nothing moved again. I must be getting jumpy being alone like this. After last night and then this, I was just imagining things.
I brought the items inside and spread them out. I put the tablecloth on the table, and it hung low to the ground. I placed the candlestick by the window and took out the photos again, spreading them out.
The photos told me a story of a loving family that obviously lived in the farmhouse before me. They had a photo next to the barn, with a brand new looking scarecrow in the back. The man even had his arm around it; it looked so much cleaner and proper in this photo. I stared outside at the sad-looking scarecrow.
I took my camera and the photo and went outside to stand next to the scarecrow. His post hung kind of crooked in the earth like it was weighed down by the scarecrow.
I snapped a photo of the scarecrow as it was, then examined the original photo. I began resettling the post in the ground, but it kept sagging. I decided to pull him out of the ground and move him while I added more dirt to his hole. With some effort, I reseated him into his original hole. He already looked better, but I straightened his clothes and pulled out the last bits of straw that stuck out of his clothes. When I was finished, I looked back at him and took a photo, smiling while I did so at my work.
I then spent some time sweeping the front porch and banging the dust out of the cushions before I curled up on a wicker chair with plump cushions for a few hours reading a book I had brought with me.
I felt quite content at this place. The sounds of the crickets began again, putting me at ease as the sun began to descend. I had spent the entire day just relaxing, and it was perfect. I sat sprawled out in the chair, too lazy to go and make dinner or even move. My bladder was full, but I waited until the last moment before dashing inside and relieving myself.
That's when I noticed it, out in the yard. It seemed as if the scarecrow had moved closer. Once shrouded by the barn slightly, it now had moved a few steps into the light from the porch. My heart dropped at the sight. Not again, I must be asleep on the porch in the chair. I pinched myself, trying to wake up, but all I received was a sore arm.
I closed my eyes, then rubbed them, hoping to dispel whatever plagued my mind, but when I opened my eyes, I noticed the scarecrow was even closer. Halfway across the yard now, it sat menacingly, hanging crooked in the dirt. The scarecrow seemed to be staring at me with an intense gaze. The slits in its face were open now, and in the porch light, I swear I could see human eyes underneath the mask.
I moved towards the front door, locking it in a swift motion. I was shaking now, and it took me a minute to relax. I never took my eyes off the scarecrow for fear of it moving again.
My cellphone was upstairs, so I couldn't flee without the scarecrow moving again. I breathed out slightly and unlocked the door, letting it swing in with a creak. The night outside was silent, as if everything was holding its breath. The usual crickets that plagued me with their song day and night had fallen quiet. I stepped out onto the porch; I needed to go confront this demonic entity. Something about this still made me think this was a prank.
"Eli, is that you?" I called out to the scarecrow.
No response, of course. I steeled myself and put one foot off the porch, never taking my eyes off the scarecrow before me. Something seemed to be dripping from its head as I approached, a dark slime that seemed to be melting from its joints as it stood there silently, except for the constant drip of the liquid on the dry dirt before me.
I walked around the scarecrow, determined to figure out what was going on. As I circled it, my vision darkened for a moment as I faced towards the light of the house. I jumped as the scarecrow's head turned to face me as I looked away. The black liquid drained faster from the being, forming a shallow pool at its feet.
I'm not proud of what I did next, but I fled, taking my eyes off the scarecrow. I made a mad dash for the farmhouse. Behind me, I could hear the pounding of feet. I screamed as loud as my lungs would let me. My voice rang through the silence as I grabbed the door handle and wrenched open the door as I felt a strong grip fall on my shoulder.
I turned to defend myself, but nothing was there. The scarecrow was gone, the wooden cross had vanished, as had the pool of dark liquid in the dirt. The world sprung back to life; the crickets began chirping loudly, and my heart restarted. I slammed the door, and the air from my force scattered the photographs on the table. I ran upstairs, leaving the lights on in the house, and dove onto the bed, wrapping myself in the frilly blanket like a set of frilly armor.
I snatched my camera from the bedside table and held it close, determined to document the rest of the night. I held it in shaking hands as the noise downstairs began—the sound of boots crossing the floor to the stairs and the careful but heavy steps of ascension as they climbed closer and closer to me.
This time, I didn't lunge forward as the light was already on. I glanced out the window, but the scarecrow was still gone. I focused my camera on the stairs and waited as the steps came closer and closer. A shape began to form as the head of whatever was coming up the stairs crested the floor. Then a plain brown mask with slits where the eyes would be. It froze for a moment, then slowly turned its head towards me. Inside the slits were human eyes that seemed to be leaking dark red blood.
In the light, I could see it now. I snapped a photo of the beast, the flash setting off a reaction in the beast. The scarecrow moved so fast up the stairs it was a blur. My scream echoed throughout the house as it lunged at me. Filthy hands pinned me down, and the deep crimson liquid began pouring out of every joint of the scarecrow. It began covering my face, my eyes, and getting into my open mouth. I spluttered and kicked at the beast, but my blows had no purchase, as if the scarecrow on top of me had no substance to itself.
I coughed and spluttered on the liquid as it began to fill my mouth faster and faster. I tried not to swallow any, but it tried to find purchase as I was held down.
"Polly?" A nervous voice called from below.
Suddenly, as if the angels had called, the pressure dissipated, and I crashed to the floor in a heap, trying to spit the blood out, but nothing came—it was gone. Footsteps pounded up the stairs again, and I flew back in fear, closing my eyes.
"Oh my god. Polly, are you okay?" A voice said, and gentle hands grabbed my arm.
My eyes shot open at the human touch, and I grabbed Eli into a tight hug, where I promptly began sobbing in fear, my whole body shaking as Eli awkwardly hugged me.
"Don't worry, it's going to be okay," Eli said patiently to me as he hugged me back gently and began stroking my back.
I shivered in a choking sob and fell into his arms, desperately wanting to believe him, and for some reason, I did.

This is an expansion of a recent post and also incorporates some ideas from this theory (by u/ndependent-Design17). Throughout the series the reader is repeatedly reminded that "only death can pay for life" — that magic, especially powerful magic, comes at great cost.

"Only death can pay for life, my lord. A great gift requires a great sacrifice.”

Davos, ASOS
This phrase or variations of this phrase are repeated by Melisandre, Mirri, etc. at various points throughout the series. That which follows is a highly speculative theory on the nature of the cost of magic in the series. Specifically, that souls are central to the exercise of magic and can be used as magic currency.

1. establishing the concept of the soul

Oh, to be sure, there is much we do not understand. The years pass in their hundreds and their thousands, and what does any man see of life but a few summers, a few winters? We look at mountains and call them eternal, and so they seem… but in the course of time, mountains rise and fall, rivers change their courses, stars fall from the sky, and great cities sink beneath the sea. Even gods die, we think. Everything changes.

Bran, AGOT
What happens after we die? Is there some part of us that lives on or do we simply cease to exist. These are fundamental questions that are essentially unanswerable in life but not in ASOIAF. The reader is given a point-of-view account of death in the prologue of ADWD. After unsuccessfully attempting to steal the body of Thistle, a wildling spearwife, Varamyr dies and briefly becomes a disembodied consciousness:

The white world turned and fell away. For a moment it was as if he were inside the weirwood, gazing out through carved red eyes as a dying man twitched feebly on the ground and a madwoman danced blind and bloody underneath the moon, weeping red tears and ripping at her clothes. Then both were gone and he was rising, melting, his spirit borne on some cold wind. He was in the snow and in the clouds, he was a sparrow, a squirrel, an oak. A horned owl flew silently between his trees, hunting a hare; Varamyr was inside the owl, inside the hare, inside the trees. Deep below the frozen ground, earthworms burrowed blindly in the dark, and he was them as well. I am the wood, and everything that’s in it, he thought, exulting.

Prologue, ADWD
Afterward his "spirit," or soul, is eventually transferred into a body of wolf and he begins his second life. This event, and the process of skin-changing more generally, appears to involve projection or transfer of a soul from one body into another. The process of projecting or transferring souls to either animal vessels or the weirwoods is central to the magic of the Children of the Forest.

“Someone else was in the raven,” he told Lord Brynden, once he had returned to his own skin. “Some girl. I felt her.”
“A woman, of those who sing the song of earth,” his teacher said. “Long dead, yet a part of her remains, just as a part of you would remain in Summer if your boy’s flesh were to die upon the morrow. A shadow on the soul. She will not harm you.”
"Do all the birds have singers in them?"
“All,” Lord Brynden said.

Bran, ADWD
After death a "shadow on the soul" of the Singers remain in the crows. The soul of Orell is also described as living on in the body of his eagle after his death.
This process appears to take two forms: the soul can be temporarily projected from one body into another (e.g., as happens when Bran skin-changes into Hodor) or can be permanently transferred as is described in the separate examples above.
These transferred souls merge with their recipient, at least to some degree, and may decay over time:

"The wolf is part of you from that day on, and you’re part of him. Both of you will change.”
Other beasts were best left alone, the hunter had declared. Cats were vain and cruel, always ready to turn on you. Elk and deer were prey; wear their skins too long, and even the bravest man became a coward. Bears, boars, badgers, weasels … Haggon did not hold with such. “Some skins you never want to wear, boy. You won’t like what you’d become.” Birds were the worst, to hear him tell it. “Men were not meant to leave the earth. Spend too much time in the clouds and you never want to come back down again.
...
"They say you forget," Haggon had told him, a few weeks before his own death.
"When the man's flesh dies, his spirit lives on inside the beast, but every day his memory fades, and the beast becomes a little less a warg, a little more a wolf, until nothing of the man is left and only the beast remains."

Prologue, ADWD
Bran is provided with similar warnings about the danger of spending too much time in Summer's skin by Jojen.
The Bran that appears to Jon-Ghost in the vision in ACOK is also likely the lingering soul of a non-contemporary Bran, contained in the weirwoods and communicating from the future.

The weirwood had his brother’s face. Had his brother always had three eyes?
Not always, came the silent shout. Not before the crow.
He sniffed at the bark, smelled wolf and tree and boy, but behind that there were other scents, the rich brown smell of warm earth and the hard grey smell of stone and something else, something terrible. Death, he knew. He was smelling death. He cringed back, his hair bristling, and bared his fangs.
"Don’t be afraid, I like it in the dark. No one can see you, but you can see them. But first you have to open your eyes. See? Like this." And the tree reached down and touched him.

Jon, ACOK
There is more information about this in the Time Traveling Bran series. Briefly, the version of Bran in this vision does not appear to be contemporaneous because likes the dark, is able to open Jon's third eye, smells of death, etc. (This is well outside of the scope of this theory however.)

2. shadow magic requires souls

As above the reader is repeatedly reminded throughout the series that "only death can pay for life." What is specifically being sacrificed, though? Is the magic being fueled by the blood of the sacrificed or by something else?
To answer this let us examine one of the most concrete example of magic in the series, the use or exchange of Stannis Baratheon's "life-fire" in order for Melisandre to manifest the shadows used to kill Renly Baratheon and Courtney Penrose.

Shadows only live when given birth by light, and the king's fires burn so low I dare not draw off any more to make another son. It might well kill him."
Melisandre moved closer.
"With another man, though... a man whose flames still burn hot and high... if you truly wish to serve your king's cause, come to my chamber one night. I could give you pleasure such as you have never known, and with your life-fire I could make..."

Davos, ASOS
According to this explanation, the cost of producing these shadow appears to have been part of his "life-fire," or soul. The shadow is specifically described as having the shape Stannis supporting this. Whether this applies to other types of magic — specifically blood magic or fire magic — is less clear but shadow magic very much appears to require the use of souls.
This type of exchange is also directly referenced in the story of the Night's King provided by Old Nan:

A woman was his downfall; a woman glimpsed from atop the Wall, with skin as white as the moon and eyes like blue stars. Fearing nothing, he chased her and caught her and loved her, though her skin was cold as ice, and when he gave his seed to her he gave his soul as well. (Credit to u/DigLost5791 for this reference.)

Bran, ASOS
Stannis is described by Davos afterward as follows:

The look of him was a shock. He seemed ten years older than the man that Davos had left at Storm’s End when he set sail for the Blackwater and the battle that would be their undoing. The king’s close-cropped beard was spiderwebbed with grey hairs, and he had dropped two stone or more of weight. He had never been a fleshy man, but now the bones moved beneath his skin like spears, fighting to cut free. Even his crown seemed too large for his head. His eyes were blue pits lost in deep hollows, and the shape of a skull could be seen beneath his face.

Davos, ASOS
Asha later describes Stannis as appearing life a "man with one foot in the grave."

What little flesh he’d carried on his tall, spare frame at Deepwood Motte had melted away during the march. The shape of his skull could be seen under his skin, and his jaw was clenched so hard Asha feared his teeth might shatter.

Asha, ADWD
These descriptions seem appropriate for a character that has lost part of their "life-fire" or soul.
Throughout the series Stannis is forced to make a series of increasingly difficult decisions. The most significant of these decisions regards the fate of his nephew, Eric Storm. Melisandre repeatedly urges him to "give [her] the boy," presumably to be burned, but is rebuffed by Stannis.

“I know the cost! Last night, gazing into that hearth, I saw things in the flames as well. I saw a king, a crown of fire on his brows, burning… burning, Davos. His own crown consumed his flesh and turned him into ash. Do you think I need Melisandre to tell me what that means? Or you?” The king moved, so his shadow fell upon King’s Landing.
"…what is the life of one bastard boy against a kingdom?”
“Everything,” said Davos, softly.

Davos, ASOS
Is the life of this bastard boy worth the lives of millions that would die if the Others break through the Wall? Making a deal with the devil and literally selling his soul in pursuit of some greater good seems very appropriate for his character, thematically. The description of his flesh turning to ash in this vision is representative also supports this interpretation.

3. blood and fire magic

As opposed to the creation of the shadows described above, we are also provided an example of so-called blood magic in the leech burning ritual.

“Give me the boy, Your Grace. It is the surer way. The better way. Give me the boy and I shall wake the stone dragon.”
...
Melisandre bowed her head stiffly, and said, “As my king commands.” Reaching up her left sleeve with her right hand, she flung a handful of powder into the brazier. The coals roared. As pale flames writhed atop them, the red woman retrieved the silver dish and brought it to the king. Davos watched her lift the lid. Beneath were three large black leeches, fat with blood. The boy’s blood, Davos knew. A king’s blood. Stannis stretched forth a hand, and his fingers closed around one of the leeches.
“Say the name,” Melisandre commanded.

Davos, ASOS
Following this ritual all of the mentioned individuals do die but do so as the part of separate conspiracies (e.g., Robb Stark is betrayed by the Freys and Boltons, Joffrey Baratheon by Littlefinger and the Tyrells, etc.) which were already in place. It is left intentionally ambiguous by the author but it does not appear that the ritual meaningfully contributed to their deaths.
The creation of the shadows is said by Melisandre to have required part of Stannis' "life-fire" or soul. Could it be that the leech burning ritual was unsuccessful because blood alone is not sufficient as a sacrifice?
These forms of magic are frequently described in the community as "shadow magic" and "blood magic." These concepts — "fire and blood" and "flame and shadow" — are highly associated with one another in the text:

“Shadow?" Davos felt his flesh prickling. "A shadow is a thing of darkness."
”You are more ignorant than a child, ser knight. There are no shadows in the dark. Shadows are the servants of light, the children of fire. The brightest flame casts the darkest shadows."

Davos, ACOK
I speculate that these are different expressions of the same concept; that all of these fall under the general umbrella of fire magic and share common principles. "Fire consumes and in the end there's nothing left."

4. dancing shadows

The tent was aglow with the light of braziers within. Through the blood-spattered sandsilk, she glimpsed shadows moving.
Mirri Maz Duur was dancing, and not alone.
...
No, Dany wanted to say, no, not that, you mustn’t, but when she opened her mouth, a long wail of pain escaped, and the sweat broke over her skin. What was wrong with them, couldn’t they see?
Inside the tent the shapes were dancing, circling the brazier and the bloody bath, dark against the sandsilk, and some did not look human. She glimpsed the shadow of a great wolf, and another like a man wreathed in flames.
“The Lamb Woman knows the secrets of the birthing bed,” Irri said. “She said so, I heard her.”
“Yes,” Doreah agreed, “I heard her too.”
No, she shouted, or perhaps she only thought it, for no whisper of sound escaped her lips. She was being carried. Her eyes opened to gaze up at a flat dead sky, black and bleak and starless. Please, no. The sound of Mirri Maz Duur’s voice grew louder, until it filled the world. The shapes! She screamed. The dancers!
Ser Jorah carried her inside the tent.

Daenerys, AGOT
The introduction of shadow magic in the series is provided above with Mirri Max Duur. Following this ritual Drogo is described as a lifeless husk:

"He seems to like the warmth, Princess," Ser Jorah said. "His eyes follow the sun, though he does not see it. He can walk after a fashion. He will go where you lead him, but no farther. He will eat if you put food in his mouth, drink if you dribble water on his lips."

Daenerys, AGOT
It has previously been speculated that Mirri "reverse skin-changed" Drogo (e.g., "strength of the mount go into the rider, strength of the beast go into the man."). The description provided is less consistent with a horse soul inhabiting a human body than it is with the complete or near-complete absence of a soul. It appears more likely in retrospect that Mirri sacrificed part of Drogo's soul to summon the shadows and likely as a means to kill Daenerys' unborn child.

“The stallion who mounts the world will burn no cities now. His khalasar shall trample no nations into dust."

Daenerys, AGOT

5. reanimation

If "only death can pay for life" and souls are used as a form of magical currency how does one explain the reanimation or resurrection process?
There is a paucity of information on the reanimation of the dead in the series. The resurrection of Beric Dondarrion, for example, appears to be different in fundamental ways from that of the wights or Cold Hands. (We are potentially given a point-of-view account of this process if you accept that Victarion died in ADWD.)

“Thoros, how many times have you brought me back now?”
The red priest bowed his head. “It is R’hllor who brings you back, my lord. The Lord of Light. I am only his instrument.”
“How many times?” Lord Beric insisted.
“Six,” Thoros said reluctantly.
“And each time is harder. You have grown reckless, my lord. Is death so very sweet?”
Arya, ASOS

There is no immediately identifiable magical cost for these "kisses of life," at least at first glance. Thoros later tells us that he breathed part of his "flames" or soul into Beric:

“That first time, his lordship had a hole right through him and blood in his mouth, I knew there was no hope. So when his poor torn chest stopped moving, I gave him the good god's own kiss to send him on his way. I filled my mouth with fire and breathed the flames inside him, down his throat to lungs and heart and soul. The last kiss it is called, and many a time I saw the old priests bestow it on the Lord's servants as they died." (Credit to u/watchersontheweb for providing this quote in the initial thread.)

Arya, ASOS
Thoros is also described as appearing very different after performing this ritual several times in a way that is not entirely dissimilar to the changes in Stannis’ appearance referenced above.

“Here’s the wizard, skinny squirrel. You’ll get your answers now.”
He pointed toward the fire, where Tom Sevenstrings stood talking to a tall thin man with oddments of old armor buckled on over his ratty pink robes. That can’t be Thoros of Myr. Arya remembered the red priest as fat, with a smooth face and a shiny bald head. This man had a droopy face and a full head of shaggy grey hair.
...
“Thoros of Myr. You used to shave your head.”
“To betoken a humble heart, but in truth my heart was vain. Besides, I lost my razor in the woods.” The priest slapped his belly. “I am less than I was, but more. A year in the wild will melt the flesh off a man. Would that I could find a tailor to take in my skin. I might look young again, and pretty maids would shower me with kisses.”

Arya, ASOS
Thoros attributes these changes to his renewed devotion to the Red God and spending "a year in the wild" as above although he is not exactly forthcoming with Arya about the resurrection process. It is also likely that he does not entirely understand what specifically is being exchanged here.
Later he describes Beric giving the "kiss of life" to the corpse of Catelyn Stark:

“The Freys slashed her throat from ear to ear. When we found her by the river she was three days dead. Harwin begged me to give her the kiss of life, but it had been too long. I would not do it, so Lord Beric put his lips to hers instead, and the flame of life passed from him to her. And… she rose. May the Lord of Light protect us. She rose.”

Brienne, AFFC
Notably, this process produces a reanimated Catelyn (a.k.a. Lady Stoneheart). The soul of Beric, or at least whatever is left of his soul at this point in the series, is consumed in order to resurrect Catelyn and not transferred.

6. cold shadows (wild speculation)

The terms "white shadows," "pale shadows," and "cold shadows" are repeated used to describe the Others. The Others are also highly associated with ghosts — the spirits or souls of the dead bound to the earth. (The forrest in which they are introduced is literally called the Haunted Forrest.)

The Others made no sound.
Will saw movement from the corner of his eye. Pale shapes gliding through the wood. He turned his head, glimpsed a white shadow in the darkness. Then it was gone. Branches stirred gently in the wind, scratching at one another with wooden fingers. Will opened his mouth to call down a warning, and the words seemed to freeze in his throat. Perhaps he was wrong. Perhaps it had only been a bird, a reflection on the snow, some trick of the moonlight. What had he seen, after all?
“Will, where are you?” Ser Waymar called up. “Can you see anything?” He was turning in a slow circle, suddenly wary, his sword in hand. He must have felt them, as Will felt them. There was nothing to see. “Answer me! Why is it so cold?” It was cold.
Shivering, Will clung more tightly to his perch. His face pressed hard against the trunk of the sentinel. He could feel the sweet, sticky sap on his cheek. A shadow emerged from the dark of the wood. It stood in front of Royce. Tall, it was, and gaunt and hard as old bones, with flesh pale as milk. Its armor seemed to change color as it moved; here it was white as new-fallen snow, there black as shadow, everywhere dappled with the deep grey-green of the trees. The patterns ran like moonlight on water with every step it took. Will heard the breath go out of Ser Waymar Royce in a long hiss. ...
The Other slid forward on silent feet. In its hand was a longsword like none that Will had ever seen. No human metal had gone into the forging of that blade. It was alive with moonlight, translucent, a shard of crystal so thin that it seemed almost to vanish when seen edge-on. There was a faint blue shimmer to the thing, a ghost-light that played around its edges, and somehow Will knew it was sharper than any razor.

Prologue, AGOT
This is again highly speculative but it seems reasonable to consider that these cold shadows are not "ice demons" or "ice zombies" but are in fact ghosts, the spirits or souls of men that are bound to the earth through magic by the Children of the Forest. (The textual evidence of the creation of the Others by the Children has previously been discussed at length in the community in separate posts.) "Fire consumes, but cold preserves."
This would explain several of the unusual characteristics of the Others described by Tormund:

“Tormund,” Jon said, as they watched four old women pull a cartful of children toward the gate, “tell me of our foe. I would know all there is to know of the Others.”
The wildling rubbed his mouth. “Not here,” he mumbled, “not this side o’ your Wall.” The old man glanced uneasily toward the trees in their white mantles. “They’re never far, you know. They won’t come out by day, not when that old sun’s shining, but don’t think that means they went away. Shadows never go away. Might be you don’t see them, but they’re always clinging to your heels.”
...
Tormund turned back.
"You know nothing. You killed a dead man, aye, I heard. Mance killed a hundred. A man can fight the dead, but when their masters come, when the white mists rise up… how do you fight a mist, crow? Shadows with teeth … air so cold it hurts to breathe, like a knife inside your chest … you do not know, you cannot know … can your sword cut cold?"

Jon, ADWD
A reasonable interpretation of this information is that the Others are present during the day, at least in some capacity, and are only able to assume corporeal form at night.
The Others are also described as "going lightly upon the snow" which would also supports the idea that they are ghosts:

“The white walkers go lightly on the snow,” the ranger said. “You’ll find no prints to mark their passage.”

Samwell, ASOS

7. conclusions

This highly speculative theory attempts to reconcile several seemingly disparate concepts in the series related to magic, namely the actual nature of magical sacrifice ("only death can pay for life") and shadows or shadow magic. More specifically, I suggest that souls are the primary magical currency and can be consumed using fire magic to summon shadows, create glamours, etc. I also speculate that similar processes took place during Mirri Maz Duur's shadow-binding ritual in AGOT and during the repeated resurrections of Berric Dondarrion in ASOS. I further suggest that the Others are ghosts, the spirits or souls of the dead bound to the earth.
EDIT: edited several times to address formatting issues

This is an expansion of a recent post and also incorporates some ideas from this theory (by u/ndependent-Design17). Throughout the series the reader is repeatedly reminded that "only death can pay for life" — that magic, especially powerful magic, comes at great cost.

"Only death can pay for life, my lord. A great gift requires a great sacrifice.”

Davos, ASOS
This phrase or variations of this phrase are repeated by Melisandre, Mirri, etc. at various points throughout the series. That which follows is a highly speculative theory on the nature of the cost of magic in the series. Specifically, that souls are central to the exercise of magic and can be used as magic currency.

1. establishing the concept of the soul

Oh, to be sure, there is much we do not understand. The years pass in their hundreds and their thousands, and what does any man see of life but a few summers, a few winters? We look at mountains and call them eternal, and so they seem… but in the course of time, mountains rise and fall, rivers change their courses, stars fall from the sky, and great cities sink beneath the sea. Even gods die, we think. Everything changes.

Bran, AGOT
What happens after we die? Is there some part of us that lives on or do we simply cease to exist. These are fundamental questions that are essentially unanswerable in life but not in ASOIAF. The reader is given a point-of-view account of death in the prologue of ADWD. After unsuccessfully attempting to steal the body of Thistle, a wildling spearwife, Varamyr dies and briefly becomes a disembodied consciousness:

The white world turned and fell away. For a moment it was as if he were inside the weirwood, gazing out through carved red eyes as a dying man twitched feebly on the ground and a madwoman danced blind and bloody underneath the moon, weeping red tears and ripping at her clothes. Then both were gone and he was rising, melting, his spirit borne on some cold wind. He was in the snow and in the clouds, he was a sparrow, a squirrel, an oak. A horned owl flew silently between his trees, hunting a hare; Varamyr was inside the owl, inside the hare, inside the trees. Deep below the frozen ground, earthworms burrowed blindly in the dark, and he was them as well. I am the wood, and everything that’s in it, he thought, exulting.

Prologue, ADWD
Afterward his "spirit," or soul, is eventually transferred into a body of wolf and he begins his second life. This event, and the process of skin-changing more generally, appears to involve projection or transfer of a soul from one body into another. The process of projecting or transferring souls to either animal vessels or the weirwoods is central to the magic of the Children of the Forest.

“Someone else was in the raven,” he told Lord Brynden, once he had returned to his own skin. “Some girl. I felt her.”
“A woman, of those who sing the song of earth,” his teacher said. “Long dead, yet a part of her remains, just as a part of you would remain in Summer if your boy’s flesh were to die upon the morrow. A shadow on the soul. She will not harm you.”
"Do all the birds have singers in them?"
“All,” Lord Brynden said.

Bran, ADWD
After death a "shadow on the soul" of the Singers remain in the crows. The soul of Orell is also described as living on in the body of his eagle after his death.
This process appears to take two forms: the soul can be temporarily projected from one body into another (e.g., as happens when Bran skin-changes into Hodor) or can be permanently transferred as is described in the separate examples above.
These transferred souls merge with their recipient, at least to some degree, and may decay over time:

"The wolf is part of you from that day on, and you’re part of him. Both of you will change.”
Other beasts were best left alone, the hunter had declared. Cats were vain and cruel, always ready to turn on you. Elk and deer were prey; wear their skins too long, and even the bravest man became a coward. Bears, boars, badgers, weasels … Haggon did not hold with such. “Some skins you never want to wear, boy. You won’t like what you’d become.” Birds were the worst, to hear him tell it. “Men were not meant to leave the earth. Spend too much time in the clouds and you never want to come back down again.
...
"They say you forget," Haggon had told him, a few weeks before his own death.
"When the man's flesh dies, his spirit lives on inside the beast, but every day his memory fades, and the beast becomes a little less a warg, a little more a wolf, until nothing of the man is left and only the beast remains."

Prologue, ADWD
Bran is provided with similar warnings about the danger of spending too much time in Summer's skin by Jojen.
The Bran that appears to Jon-Ghost in the vision in ACOK is also likely the lingering soul of a non-contemporary Bran, contained in the weirwoods and communicating from the future.

The weirwood had his brother’s face. Had his brother always had three eyes?
Not always, came the silent shout. Not before the crow.
He sniffed at the bark, smelled wolf and tree and boy, but behind that there were other scents, the rich brown smell of warm earth and the hard grey smell of stone and something else, something terrible. Death, he knew. He was smelling death. He cringed back, his hair bristling, and bared his fangs.
"Don’t be afraid, I like it in the dark. No one can see you, but you can see them. But first you have to open your eyes. See? Like this." And the tree reached down and touched him.

Jon, ACOK
There is more information about this in the Time Traveling Bran series. Briefly, the version of Bran in this vision does not appear to be contemporaneous because likes the dark, is able to open Jon's third eye, smells of death, etc. (This is well outside of the scope of this theory however.)

2. shadow magic requires souls

As above the reader is repeatedly reminded throughout the series that "only death can pay for life." What is specifically being sacrificed, though? Is the magic being fueled by the blood of the sacrificed or by something else?
To answer this let us examine one of the most concrete example of magic in the series, the use or exchange of Stannis Baratheon's "life-fire" in order for Melisandre to manifest the shadows used to kill Renly Baratheon and Courtney Penrose.

Shadows only live when given birth by light, and the king's fires burn so low I dare not draw off any more to make another son. It might well kill him."
Melisandre moved closer.
"With another man, though... a man whose flames still burn hot and high... if you truly wish to serve your king's cause, come to my chamber one night. I could give you pleasure such as you have never known, and with your life-fire I could make..."

Davos, ASOS
According to this explanation, the cost of producing these shadow appears to have been part of his "life-fire," or soul. The shadow is specifically described as having the shape Stannis supporting this. Whether this applies to other types of magic — specifically blood magic or fire magic — is less clear but shadow magic very much appears to require the use of souls.
This type of exchange is also directly referenced in the story of the Night's King provided by Old Nan:

A woman was his downfall; a woman glimpsed from atop the Wall, with skin as white as the moon and eyes like blue stars. Fearing nothing, he chased her and caught her and loved her, though her skin was cold as ice, and when he gave his seed to her he gave his soul as well. (Credit to u/DigLost5791 for this reference.)

Bran, ASOS
Stannis is described by Davos afterward as follows:

The look of him was a shock. He seemed ten years older than the man that Davos had left at Storm’s End when he set sail for the Blackwater and the battle that would be their undoing. The king’s close-cropped beard was spiderwebbed with grey hairs, and he had dropped two stone or more of weight. He had never been a fleshy man, but now the bones moved beneath his skin like spears, fighting to cut free. Even his crown seemed too large for his head. His eyes were blue pits lost in deep hollows, and the shape of a skull could be seen beneath his face.

Davos, ASOS
Asha later describes Stannis as appearing life a "man with one foot in the grave."

What little flesh he’d carried on his tall, spare frame at Deepwood Motte had melted away during the march. The shape of his skull could be seen under his skin, and his jaw was clenched so hard Asha feared his teeth might shatter.

Asha, ADWD
These descriptions seem appropriate for a character that has lost part of their "life-fire" or soul.
Throughout the series Stannis is forced to make a series of increasingly difficult decisions. The most significant of these decisions regards the fate of his nephew, Eric Storm. Melisandre repeatedly urges him to "give [her] the boy," presumably to be burned, but is rebuffed by Stannis.

“I know the cost! Last night, gazing into that hearth, I saw things in the flames as well. I saw a king, a crown of fire on his brows, burning… burning, Davos. His own crown consumed his flesh and turned him into ash. Do you think I need Melisandre to tell me what that means? Or you?” The king moved, so his shadow fell upon King’s Landing.
"…what is the life of one bastard boy against a kingdom?”
“Everything,” said Davos, softly.

Davos, ASOS
Is the life of this bastard boy worth the lives of millions that would die if the Others break through the Wall? Making a deal with the devil and literally selling his soul in pursuit of some greater good seems very appropriate for his character, thematically. The description of his flesh turning to ash in this vision is representative also supports this interpretation.

3. blood and fire magic

As opposed to the creation of the shadows described above, we are also provided an example of so-called blood magic in the leech burning ritual.

“Give me the boy, Your Grace. It is the surer way. The better way. Give me the boy and I shall wake the stone dragon.”
...
Melisandre bowed her head stiffly, and said, “As my king commands.” Reaching up her left sleeve with her right hand, she flung a handful of powder into the brazier. The coals roared. As pale flames writhed atop them, the red woman retrieved the silver dish and brought it to the king. Davos watched her lift the lid. Beneath were three large black leeches, fat with blood. The boy’s blood, Davos knew. A king’s blood. Stannis stretched forth a hand, and his fingers closed around one of the leeches.
“Say the name,” Melisandre commanded.

Davos, ASOS
Following this ritual all of the mentioned individuals do die but do so as the part of separate conspiracies (e.g., Robb Stark is betrayed by the Freys and Boltons, Joffrey Baratheon by Littlefinger and the Tyrells, etc.) which were already in place. It is left intentionally ambiguous by the author but it does not appear that the ritual meaningfully contributed to their deaths.
The creation of the shadows is said by Melisandre to have required part of Stannis' "life-fire" or soul. Could it be that the leech burning ritual was unsuccessful because blood alone is not sufficient as a sacrifice?
These forms of magic are frequently described in the community as "shadow magic" and "blood magic." These concepts — "fire and blood" and "flame and shadow" — are highly associated with one another in the text:

“Shadow?" Davos felt his flesh prickling. "A shadow is a thing of darkness."
”You are more ignorant than a child, ser knight. There are no shadows in the dark. Shadows are the servants of light, the children of fire. The brightest flame casts the darkest shadows."

Davos, ACOK
I speculate that these are different expressions of the same concept; that all of these fall under the general umbrella of fire magic and share common principles. "Fire consumes and in the end there's nothing left."

4. dancing shadows

The tent was aglow with the light of braziers within. Through the blood-spattered sandsilk, she glimpsed shadows moving.
Mirri Maz Duur was dancing, and not alone.
...
No, Dany wanted to say, no, not that, you mustn’t, but when she opened her mouth, a long wail of pain escaped, and the sweat broke over her skin. What was wrong with them, couldn’t they see?
Inside the tent the shapes were dancing, circling the brazier and the bloody bath, dark against the sandsilk, and some did not look human. She glimpsed the shadow of a great wolf, and another like a man wreathed in flames.
“The Lamb Woman knows the secrets of the birthing bed,” Irri said. “She said so, I heard her.”
“Yes,” Doreah agreed, “I heard her too.”
No, she shouted, or perhaps she only thought it, for no whisper of sound escaped her lips. She was being carried. Her eyes opened to gaze up at a flat dead sky, black and bleak and starless. Please, no. The sound of Mirri Maz Duur’s voice grew louder, until it filled the world. The shapes! She screamed. The dancers!
Ser Jorah carried her inside the tent.

Daenerys, AGOT
The introduction of shadow magic in the series is provided above with Mirri Max Duur. Following this ritual Drogo is described as a lifeless husk:

"He seems to like the warmth, Princess," Ser Jorah said. "His eyes follow the sun, though he does not see it. He can walk after a fashion. He will go where you lead him, but no farther. He will eat if you put food in his mouth, drink if you dribble water on his lips."

Daenerys, AGOT
It has previously been speculated that Mirri "reverse skin-changed" Drogo (e.g., "strength of the mount go into the rider, strength of the beast go into the man."). The description provided is less consistent with a horse soul inhabiting a human body than it is with the complete or near-complete absence of a soul. It appears more likely in retrospect that Mirri sacrificed part of Drogo's soul to summon the shadows and likely as a means to kill Daenerys' unborn child.

“The stallion who mounts the world will burn no cities now. His khalasar shall trample no nations into dust."

Daenerys, AGOT

5. reanimation

If "only death can pay for life" and souls are used as a form of magical currency how does one explain the reanimation or resurrection process?
There is a paucity of information on the reanimation of the dead in the series. The resurrection of Beric Dondarrion, for example, appears to be different in fundamental ways from that of the wights or Cold Hands. (We are potentially given a point-of-view account of this process if you accept that Victarion died in ADWD.)

“Thoros, how many times have you brought me back now?”
The red priest bowed his head. “It is R’hllor who brings you back, my lord. The Lord of Light. I am only his instrument.”
“How many times?” Lord Beric insisted.
“Six,” Thoros said reluctantly.
“And each time is harder. You have grown reckless, my lord. Is death so very sweet?”
Arya, ASOS

There is no immediately identifiable magical cost for these "kisses of life," at least at first glance. Thoros later tells us that he breathed part of his "flames" or soul into Beric:

“That first time, his lordship had a hole right through him and blood in his mouth, I knew there was no hope. So when his poor torn chest stopped moving, I gave him the good god's own kiss to send him on his way. I filled my mouth with fire and breathed the flames inside him, down his throat to lungs and heart and soul. The last kiss it is called, and many a time I saw the old priests bestow it on the Lord's servants as they died." (Credit to u/watchersontheweb for providing this quote in the initial thread.)

Arya, ASOS
Thoros is also described as appearing very different after performing this ritual several times in a way that is not entirely dissimilar to the changes in Stannis’ appearance referenced above.

“Here’s the wizard, skinny squirrel. You’ll get your answers now.”
He pointed toward the fire, where Tom Sevenstrings stood talking to a tall thin man with oddments of old armor buckled on over his ratty pink robes. That can’t be Thoros of Myr. Arya remembered the red priest as fat, with a smooth face and a shiny bald head. This man had a droopy face and a full head of shaggy grey hair.
...
“Thoros of Myr. You used to shave your head.”
“To betoken a humble heart, but in truth my heart was vain. Besides, I lost my razor in the woods.” The priest slapped his belly. “I am less than I was, but more. A year in the wild will melt the flesh off a man. Would that I could find a tailor to take in my skin. I might look young again, and pretty maids would shower me with kisses.”

Arya, ASOS
Thoros attributes these changes to his renewed devotion to the Red God and spending "a year in the wild" as above although he is not exactly forthcoming with Arya about the resurrection process. It is also likely that he does not entirely understand what specifically is being exchanged here.
Later he describes Beric giving the "kiss of life" to the corpse of Catelyn Stark:

“The Freys slashed her throat from ear to ear. When we found her by the river she was three days dead. Harwin begged me to give her the kiss of life, but it had been too long. I would not do it, so Lord Beric put his lips to hers instead, and the flame of life passed from him to her. And… she rose. May the Lord of Light protect us. She rose.”

Brienne, AFFC
Notably, this process produces a reanimated Catelyn (a.k.a. Lady Stoneheart). The soul of Beric, or at least whatever is left of his soul at this point in the series, is consumed in order to resurrect Catelyn and not transferred.

6. cold shadows (wild speculation)

The terms "white shadows," "pale shadows," and "cold shadows" are repeated used to describe the Others. The Others are also highly associated with ghosts — the spirits or souls of the dead bound to the earth. (The forrest in which they are introduced is literally called the Haunted Forrest.)

The Others made no sound.
Will saw movement from the corner of his eye. Pale shapes gliding through the wood. He turned his head, glimpsed a white shadow in the darkness. Then it was gone. Branches stirred gently in the wind, scratching at one another with wooden fingers. Will opened his mouth to call down a warning, and the words seemed to freeze in his throat. Perhaps he was wrong. Perhaps it had only been a bird, a reflection on the snow, some trick of the moonlight. What had he seen, after all?
“Will, where are you?” Ser Waymar called up. “Can you see anything?” He was turning in a slow circle, suddenly wary, his sword in hand. He must have felt them, as Will felt them. There was nothing to see. “Answer me! Why is it so cold?” It was cold.
Shivering, Will clung more tightly to his perch. His face pressed hard against the trunk of the sentinel. He could feel the sweet, sticky sap on his cheek. A shadow emerged from the dark of the wood. It stood in front of Royce. Tall, it was, and gaunt and hard as old bones, with flesh pale as milk. Its armor seemed to change color as it moved; here it was white as new-fallen snow, there black as shadow, everywhere dappled with the deep grey-green of the trees. The patterns ran like moonlight on water with every step it took. Will heard the breath go out of Ser Waymar Royce in a long hiss. ...
The Other slid forward on silent feet. In its hand was a longsword like none that Will had ever seen. No human metal had gone into the forging of that blade. It was alive with moonlight, translucent, a shard of crystal so thin that it seemed almost to vanish when seen edge-on. There was a faint blue shimmer to the thing, a ghost-light that played around its edges, and somehow Will knew it was sharper than any razor.

Prologue, AGOT
This is again highly speculative but it seems reasonable to consider that these cold shadows are not "ice demons" or "ice zombies" but are in fact ghosts, the spirits or souls of men that are bound to the earth through magic by the Children of the Forest. (The textual evidence of the creation of the Others by the Children is linked in a separate post here.) "Fire consumes, but cold preserves."
This would explain several of the unusual characteristics of the Others described by Tormund:

“Tormund,” Jon said, as they watched four old women pull a cartful of children toward the gate, “tell me of our foe. I would know all there is to know of the Others.”
The wildling rubbed his mouth. “Not here,” he mumbled, “not this side o’ your Wall.” The old man glanced uneasily toward the trees in their white mantles. “They’re never far, you know. They won’t come out by day, not when that old sun’s shining, but don’t think that means they went away. Shadows never go away. Might be you don’t see them, but they’re always clinging to your heels.”
...
Tormund turned back.
"You know nothing. You killed a dead man, aye, I heard. Mance killed a hundred. A man can fight the dead, but when their masters come, when the white mists rise up… how do you fight a mist, crow? Shadows with teeth … air so cold it hurts to breathe, like a knife inside your chest … you do not know, you cannot know … can your sword cut cold?"

Jon, ADWD
A reasonable interpretation of this information is that the Others are present during the day, at least in some capacity, and are only able to assume corporeal form at night.
The Others are also described as "going lightly upon the snow" which would also supports the idea that they are ghosts:

“The white walkers go lightly on the snow,” the ranger said. “You’ll find no prints to mark their passage.”

Samwell, ASOS

7. conclusions

This highly speculative theory attempts to reconcile several seemingly disparate concepts in the series related to magic, namely the actual nature of magical sacrifice ("only death can pay for life") and shadows or shadow magic. More specifically, I suggest that souls are the primary magical currency and can be consumed using fire magic to summon shadows, create glamours, etc. I also speculate that similar processes took place during Mirri Maz Duur's shadow-binding ritual in AGOT and during the repeated resurrections of Berric Dondarrion in ASOS. I further suggest that the Others are ghosts, the spirits or souls of the dead bound to the earth.
EDIT: edited several times to address formatting issues

Hello! I'm a beginner sewer who recently completed a weekend bootcamp on sewing. I sewed my own dress from scratch with facing on the collar and cuffs. I also learned to hand sew. I have a $300 budget to get set up to machine-sew and hand-sew 100% wool and 100% linen clothing (with some limited silk) for medieval-themed historical re-enactment events. These will be outfits for myself, my elementary-aged children, and occasionally for friends.
This budget does not include cloth or patterns (just tools). I would like to include tailoring/measurement/cutting tools, key reference/learning books (I can check some of these from the library), and beginner tools for simple hand-sewn embroideries, stamping clothes with stencils and paint, and applying wool applique. I'd love to figure out how to make custom cloth-covered buttons as well to match dresses and coats.
Here is what I have on hand already, thanks to hand-me-downs from family and what I had already:

• a Singer XL-400 Futura sewing machine (no embroidery attachment, but I have a pedal).
• a Brother CS-6000i sewing and embroidery machine (with all attachments).
• Multi-color starter kits of thread sets and bobbin sets, plus white, black, and gray thread.
• a dedicated table and chair for sewing and cutting material.
• a decent ironing board, iron, cutting surface sheet, a see-through tailoring ruler, and a few sizes of non-fancy scissors - one from Joann's for cloth.

While I thought $300 would be plenty to get me started, I am already feeling overwhelmed by all the choices for tools available. Like, do I need a curved ruler? Or fancy Kai or Gingher scissors? Or a tool to correctly size collars? Do I need a machine to make cloth-covered buttons, or can I make them more cheaply? Some of these more expensive tools eat up my budget quickly.
Knowing that I'm a beginner, and will (almost) exclusively be sewing (90% machine sewing) with wool and linen to make medieval clothing that are intended to look hand-made, what "essentials" would you recommend I purchase or focus on? What can you not live without now that you've been sewing for years that you think I might need? What's turned out to not be useful? I'll shop around for the best prices on items once I've narrowed down my list. Thank you in advance for your advice!

I've recently come to realize that so, so many of my apparent friendships in childhood and adulthood were situations where I was being used in some way. I've broken it down into categories and I wonder if you all could relate to this pattern in your own lives.
Directly being used: In childhood there were friends where I literally did their homework (a LOT), in adulthood friends where I watched their kids for them (for free) or drove them places or lent them money. I always thought at the time that I was being nice and helpful and a good friend. But these kinds of favours weren't returned.
The butt of the joke: All through schooling this happened. Haven't seen it in adulthood, though. A group of kids would allow me to hang out with them but I would be the target for everyone's jokes and insults. They would also often play tricks or pranks on me for laughs. Basically I was something of an emotional punching bag.
A soul to save: A lot of my apparent friendships in university and afterwards were just people with deeply held religious beliefs that noticed I lacked a faith. This happened only once I let go of my childhood religion and turned agnostic. These people seem so nice and everything but they have an ulterior motive to recruit me into their church.
The practice friend: I found myself, especially in childhood, being someone's friend only up until they found a group to join or a better friend. Sometimes ex practice friends would still talk to me but laugh at me behind my back to their new friends.
Submissive friend: I've had situations where I end up with someone who sort of likes to just boss me around. These ones are always the same gender as me, female. It's a sort of mix of being used and being the butt of the joke, but usually only done by one person at a time. We do what they want, go where they want, talk when they want, talk about what they want, etc. They usually will try to change me into someone more respectable by their side (hair, clothes, etc.) and that sort of thing. It almost always fails because I'm kind of a hopelessly uncool person - so they become embarrassed of me and eventually depart.
Why I think this happens to CEN survivors
We're basically the perfect victims for fake, transactional friends. We were raised to not stand up for ourselves, to put our own needs last, to put others on pedestals, to have a low self-esteem, and to accept neglect and abuse as normal things. A lot of us ended up people pleasers who would basically do anything for any small amount of acceptance or attention. Even being the butt of a joke is this pattern - we enjoy seeing them laugh and be happy, even when it's at our expense.
We were starved for affection and they offered something that looked like affection at the time.
My only advice for myself and anyone else moving forward is to recognize these types of fake friends before we fall into the trap again. We deserve true kindness and mutual affection. As our self esteems improve I think this will happen less and less, as we will not be such perfect victims.
I'm curious what you all experienced as far as fake/transactional friendships in your lives so far. Please share your own stories and maybe we can all feel less alone about this and less ashamed that we were used in these ways.

Here's the thread where you can share any new patterns or products that you don't think deserve their own post. Any craft goes, whether you're sharing sewing patterns, weird yarn colourways, woodburning templates, soapmaking supplies, or any thing else that you'd like to discuss. If you think it deserves it's own thread, feel free to make one!

Love the shirt, took like one month to ship

Part 1 was here: https://www.reddit.com/d100/comments/1b2cgs2/d100_underwater_dungeon_obstacles_hazards/ Didn't get enough, so I'm posting again.
I couldn't find any good undersea obstacle lists, so let's go! You're exploring an underwater dungeon on the ocean floor at the bottom of the sea (or maybe it's floating in a massive whirlpool, or in the Elemental Plane of Water). What kinds of aquatic obstacles, environmental hazards, traps, or things could block your forward progress? (Preferably non-combat entries, or things that could make combat more tricky.)

1. The thick vegetation here hides several 5 to 20 foot long plant tendrils reaching up from the floor. They will grab and restrain anyone passing over, though they lack the strength to kill any fish larger than your hand. They also shriek loudly when cut.
   
2. Same as above, but this variant is strong enough to strangle people
   
3. A swift current passes through this passage at a rate of 20 feet per round
   
4. A strong current passes through this passage at a rate of 50 feet per round. Being pulled by it will cause damage as you collide with the rough sides of the passage.
   
5. This chamber has a strong whirlpool current around its perimeter, along with lots of pillars and sharp rocks to get smashed into
   
6. A narrow passage is lined with razor-sharp molluscs, they have long proboscises that suck up blood
   
7. This opening is clogged with gelatinous vegetation that secretes acid on contact
   
8. This opening is clogged with gelatinous vegetation that secretes an extremely sticky glue. The plants are barely attached to the wall and come free easily. It takes 1d4 minutes to cut one off without injuring yourself.
   
9. Bright blue runes glow on a pillar. Their light feels cold to your skin. Anything that moves past the pillar faster than 25 feet per round is encased in bouyant ice.
   
10. The turbulent water here is choked with silt, reducing visibility to 10 feet
    
11. Hundreds of blood-sucking parasitic worms lie buried under the silt. They will emerge and swarm anything that disturbs them. The wounds they inflict bleed freely and do not close without medical attention.
    
12. Did you know there is an aquatic variant of shrieker mushrooms?
    
13. Did you know there is an aquatic variant of gas spores? They still look like beholders, weirdly... Still explosive.
    
14. A volcanic vent fills a small area with harmful boiling water
    
15. A section of floor has a strange arcane sigil inscribed on it, and water and silt flow over it in a hexagonal pattern. Any object or creature moving into it is shot out at high speed in a random direction.
    
16. This passage is lined with necrotic arcane runes that glow purple. The water is stagnant, devoid of oxygen, and completely unbreathable.
    
17. This passage is lined with yellow arcane runes that dampen sound. Speech, echolocation, and verbal spellcasting are impossible.
    
18. Seismic activity suddenly knocks loose a torrent of mud and sand that threatens to sweep you away or bury you!
    
19. Seismic activity suddenly opens glowing red cracks in the floor. The water is quickly heating to boiling temperatures!
    
20. Anemone ferns emit a small electric field around them. Deals lightning damage and can stun. comedianmasta
    
21. Hermit shrooms are large, shelf-like mushrooms that grow in heavy currents (usually on ledges and cliffs). Can be climbed to fight against the heavy currents, but too much weight will make them retract into their shells. comedianmasta
    
22. A typical smasher trap, but it moves slowly in an enclosed space because of water pressure. The pressure causes severe nausea for about 20 seconds before it finally closes shut and crushes the victim. comedianmasta
    
23. A wall of magically high-pressure water that blocks passage through. Can be deactivated by changing the pressure differential in another part of the room/dungeon. comedianmasta
    
24. A dense tangle of weeds blocks a door. comedianmasta
    
25. Dense lumps of calcified coral block a door. comedianmasta
    
26. Grasping weeds that sense body heat to reach out and grab prey. Ice and magical cold keep them docile. comedianmasta
    
27. Mage hand barnacles (a misnomer, they're not telekinetic) create water currents to strongly thrust creatures away from themselves. Often cultivated in conjunction with spike traps or other hazards. comedianmasta
    
28. A spear trap that shoots a heavy harpoon. If you survive it hinders movement and you must be careful when removing it. comedianmasta
    
29. Ghost coral are bleached white growths that reach out with ghostly hands to impale prey on necrotic growths. Holy powers and radiant magic, like undead turning, shatter the growths and banish the spirits within. comedianmasta
    
30. A cloud of blood and viscera has been trapped here by currents, likely something a predator got recently. Swimming through it risks exposure to disease. comedianmasta
    
31. A tangle of net algae is easy to pass through slowly, but likely to snare anyone in a hurry. Removing it could cost you a few crucial seconds needed to escape danger. comedianmasta
    
32. A school of fish is attracted to light sources, creating a severe distraction. comedianmasta
    
33. A school of cute colorful fish that follow predators (and adventurers) so they can feed on the things they kill. They snap up their food at an alarming rate. ProfBumblefingers
    
34. A giant flounder is disturbed by the noise and bursts from the silty floor. It's not hostile, it's just big, in the way, and not sure where to go. ProfBumblefingers
    
35. A magical relic produces a constant stream of bubbles, creating air pockets on the ceiling or in chambers above. It's splitting the seawater into its elemental components. One stream is pure oxygen. The other stream is pure hydrogen. ProfBumblefingers
    
36. A school of snapping shrimp is in the area--you can't hear a thing over all that racket! ProfBumblefingers
    
37. The carcass of a large whale or other creature has fallen to the ocean bottom. It might have scavengable food, oil, or weapons from whatever killed it. It may also attract dangerous scavengers or whatever ate it in the first place. ProfBumblefingers
    
38. A fishing net is being dragged across the seabed by a fishing vessel, ocean currents, or some clever aquatic raiders. ProfBumblefingers
    
39. Methane hydrate deposits on the seafloor. If you use fire or lightning magic, you might get a much bigger bang than you bargained for! (One cubic meter of methane hydrate expands to 160 cubic meters of gas if ignited.) ProfBumblefingers
    
40. Crab migration. Hundreds of thousands of large crabs swarm across the ocean floor. Run? Fight? Hunker down? Will they bite? Will you have crab legs for dinner? ProfBumblefingers
    
41. A large stationary sand sucker has buried itself in sand except for its mouth, which has a 5’ diameter opening. it appears to be a normal sea floor or hollow until someone draws near, at which point the victim will be sucked in and sprayed with acid. oliviajoon
    
42. Hypnotic mollusks are oyster-like creatures with a shiny pearlescent shell worth its weight in gold. They hypnotize anything that comes within 10 feet and then patiently wait for it to starve to death. oliviajoon
    
43. A sunken boat has a cursed mirror inside. Anyone looking into it is given the mental compulsion: "kill all your friends." oliviajoon
    
44. A species of squid sprays a cloud of smelly ink. Touching it stains clothing and leaves a potent stench that lasts for hours and can attract predators. oliviajoon
    
45. Giant barnacles stick to cave walls. If you come too close they will spray you with sticky glue that can suffocate if it gets on your gills or face. oliviajoon
    
46. Cursed seaweed appears to be full of screaming faces. Paying attention to their cries deals psychic damage. oliviajoon
    
47. A shipwreck creaks and groans in the ocean currents. While exploring a mast collapses, crushing and spraying splintered wood everywhere. oliviajoon
    

Where do I buy clothing patterns or download them for free? I was ordering one though Amazon and they canceled my order so I figured I should look for better places. I am making shorts

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Patreon Official Subreddit Series Wiki Royal Road
About half of the student body was blinded by the sudden and intense flash of light that blanketed the room.
The other half seemed to have reacted in time to shield themselves from that unexpected assault on the senses.
I was part of that latter half.
And what I saw during those precious few seconds of visual overstimulation was nothing short of remarkable.
The walls that had resembled Mal’tory’s dark and dreary office quaked and quivered in place, as if the whole room was a living organism, and we were somehow nestled within its guts.
Each of the ornate wooden panels began dislodging from one another, their formerly flush surfaces cracking, revealing seams where there had been none before. These seams too began expanding, as each of the panels started wobbling, wiggling, then eventually disconnecting from one another entirely; moving independently of one another as if freeing themselves from a long-dormant state.
For a moment, they looked almost like a reptile’s scales when put under magnification.
Then, and without any warning, they began disappearing, each panel violently pulled back and into some dark anomalous void that existed behind the walls themselves; sending the EVI into another fit of spatial error reports.
We were, for a split second, completely wall-less. But not a second after the old walls had been… for lack of a better term — banished to the literal shadow realm, did a set of new walls suddenly take their place.
And quite dramatically too.
As an entirely new wallface suddenly emerged darkness of the void, one that was earthy in tones, and reminded me more of those old teakwood heritage buildings back on Earth. There were fewer embellishments to them compared to the previous Victorian-styled walls, less patterns and ostentatious designs, instead simply going with this less is more approach that left vast empty gaps where decorations and patterns were previously present. It was almost as if they were left empty and bare for a reason.
ALERT: LOCALIZED SURGE OF MANA-RADIATION DETECTED, 475% ABOVE BACKGROUND RADIATION LEVELS
Out of nowhere, dozens of pots, planters, and trellises suddenly embedded themselves through the wall, decorating what was no longer a blank canvas.
Plantlife soon followed this open invitation for a free home, as hundreds of flowers bloomed all across the wall, carefully trimmed and perfectly appointed to the lattice structures they coiled on, with not a single one of them looking too wild or out of place.
The sudden and abrupt remodeling completely threw me off.
At least, until the source of it all suddenly made themselves known.
“Welcome, first years, to Mana-field perception and Light Magic theory.” The voice continued, as through the literal haze of change came a female figure that the EVI had little problem assigning a name and identifier to.
ENTITY IFF CONFIRMED: A109 Apprentice Larial Essen - NEXUS [CORDIAL]
Yet strangely, the metallic footsteps that I’d heard just before she crossed the staff door’s threshold didn’t seem to follow her. Instead, only the apprentice emerged from the door behind the lectern.
She continued towards the lectern with a forced and somewhat stiff poise and gait, her general demeanor identical to how she carried herself prior to the whole crate saga. Which was of course, stern, tired, and completely unyielding; a fact supported by the impeccable posture she used to walk into class.
Though the class’ focus certainly wasn’t on her demeanor, or her posture, nor even on the room that had completely morphed into a completely different space.
No.
It was instead almost squarely focused on the apprentice’s cloak, which was most certainly not black.
This prompted the entire room to erupt into a frenzy of whispers, tempered only by those daring enough to deploy privacy screens.
But before those antics could evolve any further, and before my mind could even catch up with this turn of events, a loud, high-pitched, and unbroken — SHUSH — erupted from the front of the class. Emerging from a certain gorn-like lizard, who’d stood up to face us rather than the apprentice currently manning her podium. “ALL STUDENTS RISE!” He commanded.
To which the entire class followed, with the only two tentative parties being myself and a certain bull.
“ALL STUDENTS FORWARD AND BOW!” He continued, prompting the whole class to follow suit, and from there, receiving a head-tilt’s worth of praise from the apprentice.
“Thank you, Lord Qiv.” The apprentice spoke appreciatively, before setting her sights on the rest of the desks and chairs—
ALERT: LOCALIZED SURGE OF MANA-RADIATION DETECTED, 200% ABOVE BACKGROUND RADIATION LEVELS
—which were subsequently transformed into brighter-toned variants of their formerly dark and depressive selves. “I understand that there may be quite a few lingering questions amongst the crowd that quite a few of you wish to be addressed. In the spirit of ensuring that these needless thoughts and senseless rumors do not come to cloud your mind throughout the rest of class, thereby rendering these lessons moot, I wish for them to be addressed here and now.” Larial announced tacitly, but with a severity that was clearly modeled off of her mentor.
The mood of the room quickly changed following that.
But instead of shifting to the deference and submission in Articord’s class, or the tentative acceptance of Vanavan’s class, there was instead an overarching tone of outright confusion.
It was as if the whole class didn’t know how best to handle the situation.
But whilst the rest of the room remained undecided, with a few shaky hands rising up one by one, a sense of relief quickly washed over me as my emotions finally managed to catch up to the rapidly developing turn of events.
I couldn’t help but to immediately activate the in-armor positional readjustment mode in the suit, allowing myself to just… slouch; as I took in the class with a renewed wave of reprieve.
It was that same feeling you get when you arrive on the day of the test, only to find it delayed by a week. Or that feeling you get when a notification arrives in the dead of night, on the eve of a presentation, to inexplicably announce that the whole project was now put on hold due to some unforeseen event.
But unlike those situations where the why of the situation didn’t really matter… here, it most certainly did.
Which prompted me to listen in, as the questions began flying towards the apprentice.
“If I may be the one so brazen as to offer myself as the voice of the year group, Apprentice Essen?” A certain Auris Ping took the lead, having been chosen by the apprentice amidst a sea of equally inquisitive hands.
“The floor is yours, Lord Ping.” The apprentice proclaimed.
“Thank you, Apprentice.” The bull responded curtly, eliciting a particularly intense glare from the likes of Thalmin. “Where is Professor Mal’tory?”
The apprentice’s features shifted somewhat at that question, as if she wasn’t expecting something that blunt and straightforward right out of the gate. “The professor’s whereabouts are the business of the Academy’s faculty and staff.” She spoke firmly, yet with an authority that she was clearly under equipped to wield. “If you wish to inquire as to the nature of this class going forward, I will be more than happy to-”
A series of hands were raised even before the apprentice had even finished her sentence. Which prompted the overworked and exhausted elf to switch over to another student before she even had time to finish her own thoughts. “The floor is yours, Lady Ladona.”
“Thank you, Apprentice. Now, to clarify, are we to expect you to be teaching us for the rest of this class?” The being, which I could only describe as a butterfly with most of their insectoid-traits toned down, asked politely.
“That is correct, Lady Ladona.”
“And is this expected to continue for… the rest of the month?” Ladona continued, her features shifting if only to show her growing sense of confidence.“The semester perhaps? Or maybe even the rest of the school year?” She continued at a rapid-fire pace, making a point to catch the apprentice off-guard before she could even respond to that first point.
“The responsibility of tutelage has been deferred to me on the basis of Professor Mal’tory’s current inability to fulfill this particular aspect of his responsibilities owing to his current engagements. This will remain so, until the Professor returns from said engagements.” The apprentice responded in that same jaded, no-nonsense tone of voice she’d used during our pre-life debt interactions.
It was, however, woefully inadequate in dealing with the likes of a vicious social predator like Ladona, who immediately waded through the tepid waters towards the first sign of weakness. “So when can we expect his return, Apprentice?” She pushed further, her polite tone of voice acting like a velvet cloth, barely concealing the sharp mandibles beneath it.
“That is something I cannot answer.” The apprentice replied sternly, taking a stand against the shark that had now tasted blood in the water.
“Is this because of a lack of correspondence to the faculty?” The butterfly-person shot back quickly with an innocent cock of her head, her antennae swaying as she did so.
“I am not at a privilege to divulge such details, and that is most certainly not the case, Lady Ladona.”
“My apologies, Apprentice.” Ladona spoke in a calculated show of apologetics. “In any case, am I to assume then that in addition to the responsibility of tutelage, that the responsibilities of proctorship, examination, and evaluation, have likewise been deferred to you?” She shifted gears once more, this time, her question garnered quite a few murmurs to emerge from the rest of the class.
Murmurs which, as the EVI’s little picture-in-picture subtitles hinted at, were all in support of Auris Ping’s right-hand.
“That’s right… are we to assume that an apprentice of all people will be responsible for the evaluation of our performance?”
“I mean, she is an elf, that should count for something right-”
“Have some dignity! Just because she’s an elf, doesn’t mean she has any right to be dictating the fate of our academic progress!”
“That’s right! This is an insult to our titles! How dare they relegate the tutelage of a class to a mere pitiable apprentice! What do they take us for, the dregs of society?”
These hot-takes continued escalating further and further, until finally, and seemingly out of nowhere, several of those voices began dying down seemingly mid-sentence; something had distracted them from their little outbursts.
In fact, as the seconds ticked by, Thacea, Thalmin, and Ilunor turned towards each other knowingly, as if sensing that something was amiss.
That something was soon made clear to me by a sudden uptick of mana that rose from two, to three, to four hundred percent above background radiation.
At which point, several warnings suddenly slammed my HUD.
ALERT: LOCALIZED SURGE OF MANA-RADIATION DETECTED, 400% ABOVE BACKGROUND RADIATION LEVELS
CAUTION: Concentrated Heat-Energy Surge Detected!
CAUTION: Localized Temperature Surge Detected!
Those caution reticles quickly formed just behind the apprentice, hovering ominously over that void-filled doorway, right before a stream of concentrated flames surged forwards towards her.
However, instead of dodging, ducking, or leaping out of the way, she stood firm; her features not even shifting even a little.
As right before the flames made contact, so too did they suddenly stop, as that surge of mana radiation fluctuated wildly—
ALERT: VARIABLE FREQUENCY FLUCTUATION OF MANA-RADIATION DETECTED 200 - 400% ABOVE BACKGROUND RADIATION LEVELS
—before suddenly disappearing.
The room was left stunned.
Any remaining conversations were halted mid way, with many of the more chatty students barely even registering what’d just happened.
So for those who lacked situational awareness, and were still very much looking around for the reason why the rest of the class had gone silent, there was a round two to these attacks that erupted as suddenly as the first.
ALERT: LOCALIZED SURGE OF MANA-RADIATION DETECTED, 650% ABOVE BACKGROUND RADIATION LEVELS
This was signaled at first by the cracking of rock and the quaking of the entire room, followed closely by four distinct sinkholes forming along the floor at the very front of the lecture hall. A gurgling, churning noise echoed ominously from deep within the newly-formed holes, like an ancient concrete mixer dialed up to eleven.
Eventually, it stopped.
And soon after, four humanoid earthen behemoths erupted from those sinkholes. Each of them easily towered over the apprentice, whilst each of their fists were at least a full Ilunor in size.
A tense confrontation followed, and a silence that could be shattered by a pin drop soon descended upon the formerly whisper-filled room.
Yet despite it all, the apprentice didn’t move a single muscle, and to top it all off her eyes were closed shut as if in deep thought.
Seconds passed.
Then finally, the four cobblestone golems made their move.
All four moved in sync, their first steps caused the whole hall to shudder, prompting me to instinctively flinch towards my sidearm as the events of the second day hit me harder than a sack of bricks.
The first golem was poised to strike her side—
ALERT: VARIABLE FREQUENCY FLUCTUATION OF MANA-RADIATION DETECTED 300 - 650% ABOVE BACKGROUND RADIATION LEVELS
—but found itself crumbling before our eyes, as local mana radiation spiked and shifted erratically.
The second golem reached down with its fist, poised to grab the apprentice through the lectern—
ALERT: VARIABLE FREQUENCY FLUCTUATION OF MANA-RADIATION DETECTED 250 - 700% ABOVE BACKGROUND RADIATION LEVELS
—but like the first, it found itself reduced to rubble, falling where it stood; as rock by rock, it collapsed under its own weight.
The third and fourth golems charged forward together, lunging down fast towards the lectern—
ALERT: VARIABLE FREQUENCY FLUCTUATION OF MANA-RADIATION DETECTED 350 - 725% ABOVE BACKGROUND RADIATION LEVELS
—but like the first and second, they too found themselves victims to the great equalizer that was gravity, as whatever magical glue was holding them together just up and failed, reducing those humanoid forms into harmless piles of rock.
A few stray rocks did reach the lectern, but were effortlessly swatted away by an invisible barrier, leaving the apprentice and her immediate surroundings completely unharmed.
Silence once more descended on the entire class.
But just like the silence from before, that lull period wasn’t destined to last, as a loud, boisterous, and jolly series of bellowing laughs emerged from behind the void of that door.
I could tell, with immediate certainty, who that voice belonged to.
I didn’t even need the EVI’s tag system for this one.
ENTITY IFF CONFIRMED: A110 Professor Sorecar Latil Almont Pliska - NEXUS [CORDIAL]
“Spectacular work, young apprentice! Spectacular work indeed!” The man came marching through the door, walking up and towards the apprentice.
“Thank you, Professor-Armorer Pliska.” The apprentice responded softly, prompting the armorer to reply with a sharp and brisk bow of his own.
“You can reserve your thanks for after class, I have plenty more exercises where that came from, and each and every one is going to be tougher than the last!” The man proclaimed not-so-discreetly, eliciting a worried expression to form on the apprentice’s face, highlighting the seriousness of the otherwise lackadaisical tone of his voice. “Needless to say, I don’t think you’ll be thanking me much after I’m done with you! The Academy’s gotten a bit softer over the years, and I’m about to make up for lost time before they toss old-Sorecar Latil Almont Pliska back into the workshop!” He paused, before shifting his tone towards a more menacing one. “And that applies to your understudies as well, Apprentice.”
“Now!” The armorer quickly shifted his attention from the apprentice, and towards class, his gesticulations wild, as if making for the apprentice’s slower, more sluggish demeanor. More specifically, he maintained this sort of “Y” posture, with both arms high above his head as he spoke. “For those of you wondering exactly what just happened… well, perhaps it would be best for you to leave the class considering this is exactly the sort of thing we’ll both be expecting of you following the conclusion of this school year! And for those of you who openly doubt the qualifications of our dear apprentice here… just know that she was hand-picked by Professor Mal’tory himself for a reason.” The man paused, before bringing his arms back down to his sides, if only to emphasize his point, before resuming the posture from before. “And until I see a single one of you being personally selected by a black, red, blue, or white-robed professor… I don’t want to hear a single peep of doubt from you lot. At least as it pertains to the apprentice’s ability to teach these classes! And if you need an extra guarantee of such? Well… know that the Academy does not allow an apprentice to teach without supervision from an appointed Professor of the Magical Arts.” He paused, as if for dramatic effect, before pointing both hands down towards himself. “Which just so happens to be the only Professor otherwise free from the burdens of stringent schedules — yours truly!”
To Sorecar’s credit, the murmurs born of inflated egos, and the whispers of dissidence did not once dare to interrupt, or follow-up on the man’s proclamations.
If anything, that entire… display was enough to keep the critics at bay, and the ones on the fence to fully hop back on the side of respect.
At least, until one group decided to tempt fate, deploying a privacy screen.
ALERT: LOCALIZED SURGE OF MANA-RADIATION DETECTED, 350% ABOVE BACKGROUND RADIATION LEVELS
If only for that privacy screen to suffer the same effects as the rest of the spells casted throughout class thus far.
ALERT: VARIABLE FREQUENCY FLUCTUATION OF MANA-RADIATION DETECTED 100 - 350% ABOVE BACKGROUND RADIATION LEVELS
“Bold! Brash! And indeed, cheeky, if that word still holds true in this era’s vernacular!” Sorecar announced with a laugh that radiated deep from within his armor. “Unlike other classes that prohibit the casting of magic save for practice or demonstrative purposes, I fully allow it, nay, I say, I encourage it! You youths should be free to cast magic whenever and however you like!” The man paused soon after, and once again shifted gears towards a more severe timbre, yet never once losing that lackadaisical personality I knew him for. “But just remember, while you may freely practice these magical gifts you have and hold so highly, doing such in this class is to be considered a direct challenge by yours truly! This is the study of Light Magic and Mana-field Perception, after all! And thus, in the spirit of scholarly competition, I shall take every spell cast as a chance to prove what’s what!”
The man paused, before gesturing towards the apprentice. “Now, for those of you still quite confused with the definition of Light Magic as it pertains to the Nexian vernacular, I shall defer the right of tutelage back to that of our dear Apprentice. The floor is yours, my lady.”
A brief exchange of bows between the teaching duo was had, before the apprentice finally started, now with all doubts and concerns fully addressed not just by words alone, but through action as well.
“As all of you may have already discerned, the demonstration Professor Pliska had so graciously provided, was an attempt to illustrate the most visible effects of Light Magic — that being the detection and subsequent dispelling of active and pre-active spells. The subject of Light magic, thus refers to the study of the detection, dispelling, counterspelling, and disarming of all forms of other magics.”
“And by that definition, it is the single most combative field of magic there is.” Sorecar promptly chimed in with a nod towards the apprentice, almost like he was tag-teaming this opening statement with her; establishing a precedent for the dynamics of the class. “For in order to practice Light Magic, one must be in the presence of an active spell. And in order to truly practice Light Magic, one must be in the presence of active danger, as unlike most forms of magic, unevenness and intensity in casting is key to the successful destabilization of an offending spell.”
“So THAT’S what the fluctuations were.” I thought to myself outloud inside my helmet.
“Moreover—” Sorecar continued, raising his arms into the air once again as if to emphasize his points. “—to the seasoned and the wise, Light Magic as a field is known to be the single most versatile field in existence. For if implemented correctly, it has the capacity to bring all other forms of magic to its knees.”
“Versatility and adaptability are core elements of Light Magic, so while not capable of much harm by itself, it is capable of incredible feats of defense if used correctly.”
To say that I was pleasantly surprised would’ve been an understatement by this point. Because not only was Mal’tory completely out for the count, and not only was he replaced by two of my only cordial relations within the Academy thus far, but the class itself was refreshingly straightforward. There was no mincing around words like Vanavan’s class of lectures, there was also no overt signs of blatant propaganda and indoctrination like in Articord’s class. Instead, this whole class started out with a practical demo of all things, followed up essentially with a breakdown of exactly what we were studying.
“What you observed during the start of class, were just two out of a near-infinite set of examples demonstrating counterspell and dispelling measures, a rather dramatic one I might add but one that you may very well one day use.” The apprentice continued following yet another exchange of nods with Sorecar.
“And indeed, while they may have seemed trivial to the keen-eyed observer, the execution of their dispelling is anything but. Because despite what most misinformed minds may believe regarding counterspelling — dispelling isn’t simply a matter of overpowering an offending spell with a burst of mana, but instead, more akin to the unwinding of a knot, or the picking of a lock. You must act to untangle a spell, until the spell itself falls apart at the seams.” Sorecar continued, before once again swapping the baton with Larial through an exchange of nods.
“Which is exactly why Light Magic continues to be a field forever expanding in its domain.” The apprentice continued. “Because as every other field develops more and more convoluted forms of spells and artificing, so too does Light Magic have to adapt, improvise, and overcome these advanced and oftentimes eclectic means of casting.”
So an arms race… I thought to myself.
“It is, in essence, a pure magic field. Yet it is applied as if it were an applied magical field of study.” Sorecar surmised, prompting me to actually listen in with genuine intent, this marking the first moment I was truly engaged with a class with none of its politics.
“And as for the Mana-Field Perception class?” The apprentice continued with an inquisitive tone of voice. “It’s effectively an extension, or rather, a foundational element of Light Magic depending on how one wishes to view it. Because in order to become proficient in Light Magic, you have to first understand and hone your abilities in order to detect the nuances within mana-streams and mana-fields. It is only through the detection of disruptions and the accurate understanding of a spell being cast, that you are able to apply more advanced abjurations in an attempt to counter these spells. Sometimes even before they’re cast if you’re so inclined to.”
“Now, how many of you can genuinely say you noticed the shift in the room’s aura prior to the casting of that Firestream?” Sorecar asked the crowd, prompting almost every hand to be raised.
“Well that’s just a blatant lie now, isn’t it?” The man retorted bluntly. “I can tell by your reactions just before the Flamespear hit, you know. So please, honestly now, I’m giving you one more chance to answer.”
About three quarters of the class lowered their hands, leaving only the gang, Auris Ping and Qiv’s group, as well as a few other scattered students to maintain their raised hands.
“Alright, that’s about exactly the number I counted from behind the veil! Rightio then!” Sorecar proclaimed through what I could only imagine would’ve been a grin if it wasn’t for his armor. “This is exactly why mana-field perception is necessary. Because to most mages, it is a learned skill rather than an inherent trait. Which, of course, is by no means a demerit! But moreso, a wonderful little oddity in the grander tapestry that is the magical arts and pedagogue!”
The apprentice quickly followed that up with a series of talks once more summarizing the expectations of the class. Mana-field perception was, unsurprisingly, divided into practical and theoretical assessments. Which, at first, seemed to be a potential roadblock, until I realized one fundamental way this class could actually benefit my aims.
“EVI?” I spoke inwardly, as Larial started her lectures on mana-field perception.
“Yes, Cadet Booker?”
“Is there any chance you can maybe interpolate and extrapolate on the Apprentice’s points? As in, is it possible to… visualize magic, as opposed to just alerting me to bursts of it?”
“The mana-radiation visualization project, or MRVP, has been in development for some time, Cadet Booker. The research and development teams however, were unable to create a reliable model for field-use that wouldn’t have been a liability to operations.”
“So it wasn’t field-deployable because of the variance and accuracy issue.”
“Correct, Cadet Booker.”
“Alright, and you said all they needed was more data to create a better model for it, right?”
“Correct, Cadet Booker.”
“Could you… do that with this? Is that within your mission parameters to do so?”
“It is indeed one of the many ongoing projects taking up the bulk of my processing capacity, Cadet Booker. However, proper implementation of this will require additional hardware to be developed, tested, and then field-deployed for testing. The success rate of which is yet to be determined. I cannot guarantee this operation will yield the desired results inferred, Cadet Booker.”
“Alright, that’s good enough for me.” I acknowledged, before turning back to class with a renewed sense of invigoration.
The lecture continued, only stopping about midway as the apprentice realized she’d yet to elaborate on the whole Light Magic class side of things.
Which, it turns out, was more or less similar to Mana-field perception in its assessment criteria — that being a mix of practical and theory assessments. A combination of written exams and practical counterspelling would be expected in tests, midterms, and finals. This would mark my first true hurdle… but then again, perhaps I could balance out the rest of my grades against the practicals which was more or less an impossibility given my obvious human limitations…
“As with most of the classes in the first year, I will treat both periods as one. As both subjects are intertwined, we may see glimpses of both within the same period.” The apprentice continued, before shifting gears towards something else. “And on the topic of periods, since we’re nearing the conclusion of the first, with lunch quickly coming upon us, I believe it to be necessary to inform everyone now of what awaits at the end of this second period.” The apprentice spoke ominously, as she made the effort of meeting every one of the students’ gazes. “By day’s end, I intend for a pair of you to perform a practical demonstration of the fundamentals of light magic. So I expect everyone to pay close attention after lunch.”
A small pause punctuated the room yet again, before Sorecar, after several hours of silence, came to complete the apprentice’s thoughts; his faceplate squeaked to form a shape that just barely gave off the feeling of a smirk.
“Be prepared, and be ready, for your first real brush with magical dueling.”
“First being the operative word here, I must add.” The apprentice quickly clarified. “Within the bounds of demonstrative purposes.”
I could just about hear the band rounding out the corner outside the hall, and I could just about see a few students ready to pack up their things for lunch.
However, before the band could arrive, Thalmin unexpectedly stood up, raising his hand in the process.
“Yes, Prince Thalmin Havenbrock?” The apprentice acknowledged.
“I wish to volunteer as the issuer of this duel, and to designate the other party for this duel as well.”
The apprentice paused, considering this carefully, before nodding. “Granted, though I warn you Prince Havenbrock, this is an introductory demonstration, and will be treated as such. In any case, who would you wish to designate as the other party?”
“Lord Auris Ping.”
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(Author’s Note: And there we have it! Light Magic Theory and Manafield Perception classes are both now in session! This is probably the most fun and engaging class I've written yet, and this is a sentiment that Emma shares as well! I do hope you guys share the sentiment haha as I still think that action is something I still am quite lacking in, in terms of my abilities to properly write and convey it. I hope you guys enjoy! :D The next Two Chapters are already up on Patreon if you guys are interested in getting early access to future chapters!)
[If you guys want to help support me and these stories, here's my ko-fi ! And my Patreon for early chapter releases (Chapter 80 and Chapter 81 of this story is already out on there!)]

Hey everyone,
I wanted to share my experience with these hellish creatures because I couldn't find a really good comprehensive list specifically for the UK.
I live in London and I believe I picked up a rogue bed bug while out at a club (3 weeks ago at this point). I'm super super lucky that it seems I react badly to the bites, showing up as huuuuuge red welts within hours of being bitten. This meant that I was able to identify that I potentially had bed bugs because of the bite pattern after ruling out laundry detergent allergies.
Initially I took all my bedding off, bought a heavy duty plastic mattress storage sheet and some duct tape. This was during the point where I was unsure whether it was actually bed bugs but thought it would be harmless and cheap to do. Think it cost max £30 off amazon to close the mattress off. I then continued sleeping in my bed until a few nights later when I found a huge live bed bug crawling on my arm (I still shudder thinking about it!) which meant I was able to be certain bugs were the cause.
I checked whether the bug was female or male. Unfortunately for me it was a female so I knew it had to have laid eggs somewhere. Now, I'm balling on a budget because I live in London so I was very hesitant to call an exterminator. There are a few reasons I didn't - the main two were cost and that after reading many many reddit posts I realised the success rate wasn't as high as I needed it to be to justify the cost. You may decide differently and that's ok, I just couldn't risk a reinfestation after shilling out loads of cash.
So knowing this, I researched the best way to not only track but also contain and kill the bugs. From what I read (some of it on this thread) CimeXa was the best option for me. I have a pet cat so that also factored into what route I went down. CimeXa cost me around £25 from Amazon, the dust blower was around £15 from Amazon too. The traps were maybe £10, from Amazon again. If anyone would like any links to the products I used, please let me know and I can pop them below in a comment!
I sectioned off all of my clothes and bedding, bagged them and sealed them up. I hoovered everywhere that I could to get up as much of anything as possible. Then I started in tandem to work my way through 60 degree wash and tumble dry on the fabrics as well as ripping the fabric coating off of my duvan bed frame to only leave the wooden structure. I found two nymphs within that bed frame fabric but no eggs nor shells from the bugs so then worked on the basis that the adult hadn't laid very many eggs before she got too cocky and I squished her. I also feel like I have quite a weird situation where there literally was no evidence of bed bugs whatsoever. I investigated the mattress and bed frame without finding anything other than some very very small marks which I believe could be their droppings.
All of the fabrics that I didn't require (old clothes, duvan bed frame covering, etc) went into the bin instantly and I used chlorine bleach as a mid way point in every crevice of the bed frame. I continued to sleep on my mattress (encased in plastic) on the bed frame and would both 60 degree wash and tumble dry my clothes for the next day and the bedding each night. I still found bites each morning, sometimes more than the last few nights, this was really stressful and made me feel like the infestation was huge.
Once the CimeXa arrived with a dust blower I used this again in every crevice of the bed possible as well as crevices between the wooden flooring and the walls, my wooden headboard etc. I read that it's important not to move stuff from it's existing place and so I did not. I also used it lightly as a barrier around the bed frame and at my bedroom door. I placed traps around my room on the floor in order to track where the bugs might be coming from and to figure out if any were alive still. So far the traps have not shown any bugs at all and have been down for around a week.
I then went through all of my belongings, clearing out each container whether that's a drawer or shelf and cleaning/throwing away anything unneeded. The first night after distributing the CimeXa I slept purely on the plastic coated mattress with no fabrics other than my pillows. This was partly due to the night being warm here but I also wanted to properly heat the bedding post CimeXa. That morning I had zero bites and it was the first morning since the infestation began that I was bite free.
Now I didn't want to celebrate too soon so I then warmed my bedding up to the adequate temp, 60 degrees+, and placed it back on my bed. Plastic remained as I can't be sure there aren't bugs in the mattress and won't remove it until it's been over a year but to speed that process up I cut a slit in the plastic and sprayed some CimeXa in. I then sealed it back up. After replacing the bedding I've now gone 3 nights with no bites.
I'm assuming now that the bugs that remained were nymphs/eggs and have been/will be decimated by the CimeXa each time they try to make it to me to feed. I'll monitor the situation and update this post once I know for sure (14-30 days) that the bugs are dead.
I hope that this helps someone, I truly believe the earlier you catch on to the infestation the easier it is to get rid of them and I'm just very lucky in my case that I'm a bad reactor to the bites. I would encourage anyone in bug hotspots like London to buy CimeXa as a preventative measure. Dust it around your bed frame lightly (it should basically be invisible unless on a dark surface) and to make sure you have a laundry bin that seals for your clothes whenever you come home. I know it seems like a lot but honestly I don't leave the house a lot and have still managed to pick them up.
I also noted some others in this forum were talking about how CimeXa gave them negative reactions and while I can't confirm that they haven't had bad reactions, I did not react at all to its application. I didn't wear a mask or goggles when applying and have been sleeping around it for the last 4 days with no issues other than my skin being a bit dry. I also have asthma so imagine that's a good barometer for it. My cat also seems to have zero issues with it which is great. I also want to note that I treated my cat with Itch flea treatment, I believe it's similar to another brand some on here recommend as it contains a chemical that kills bed bugs.
Disclaimer: I don't work for nor am affiliated with CimeXa in any way. I'm just stunned by how quickly it seems to have worked and the difference it's made.

Hello everyone, My spouse is very early in their transition (transitioning MtF but not comfortable with female pronouns yet), and I have been trying to help find, alter and make more feminine clothes for him. He is very tall with broad shoulders and I'm wondering if you guys had any tips about bras. I know that bra hook extenders are a thing but I'm concerned about the fact that bras aren't made for people with broader chests. I'm concerned that the cups aren't going to be in the right place. Does anyone know of any sewing patterns that aren't advanced or ways to alter existing bras? thanks in advance.

Name Dio
Gender Male
Age 29
Race Human
Origin Grandline
Occupation Cipher Pol Agent
Appearance
Dio’s hair is red and very long & somewhat messy ending just past his knees. Dio wears a special white layered combat suit that looks just like regular CP0 suits and a cape. Dio’s mask is square in shape and is dark but contrast colored mask with sharp zig-zag lines, square eyes, a square mouthpiece that sticks out. Dio also wears a white cloth boater hat with a colored band. He also has a wooden khakkhara pole arm.
Personality
Dio is very quiet and doesn’t speak much. He tends to be very stern and focused on his given goal and not letting anything compromise his current mission or task. He believes in the world government & takes their reputation very seriously. He also cares about his own reputation too. Dio listens to the elders and will always ask to offer a different perspective but is never defiant. Dio believes in dark justice and that the world government is just and right in there doings trying to uphold the true balance of the world, pirates and anyone else who defies them are heretics and should be wiped out.
Ability
Being physically talented, intelligent very quick to adapt; Dio is a very difficult opponent to surpass or take down. He has plenty of moves and techniques in his bag that he has yet to use or reveal
Physical Ability
His physicality is no joke, Dio is beyond super human levels. His speed, agility & striking are his best traits as his endurance is right behind it. Dio has plenty of strength and durability to back it up too. Dio is a master Rokushiki user as well having a Doriki of over 4000
Haki
Observation Haki - Being an accomplished cipher pol agent for a while, Dio learned and mastered basic observation haki. He learned this when he trained after getting promoted CP9
Armament Haki - Dio has harnessed armament haki being able to coat his body and hair in armament haki. He also is capable of learning ryuo armament haki as well.
Devil Fruit
Shift Shift Fruit, a paramecia fruit that allows one to manipulate the physical and chemical properties of any material they touch.
Rokushiki
As a Rokushiki master, Dio has trained and practiced all forms of Rokushiki and mastered them allowing him to access the final technique rokuogun. He has been creative and unique enough to create his own variations of Rokushiki moves as well they are considerably stronger then the average stand out Cipher pol agent.
Known Moves

• Seimei Kikan - uses life return to move his hair and fight with his hair. This is almost always active in combat
  
  • Devil fruit Moves

Kegawa Shift : Chameleon - changes the properties of his hair or object to boost its abilities
Kegawa Shift : Raining Growth - grows his hair at an extreme rate for use in battle or other things
Kegawa Shift : Barren Drought - shortens his hair at an extreme rate for use in battle or other things.
Kagaku Yakuhin : Touchless Shift - changes non touchable things like smoke, gas, water etc. & makes them touchable to grab and use, changing them chemically
Rokushiki Variant Techniques
Tekkai - Iron Body

• Hollow Mountain - mainly used as a counter, this move is meant to reflect strong blows back at the attacker while weaker attacks are absorbed
  
• Diamond Rhino - used to block incredibly strong attacks, this attack shrugs off multiple attacks easily
  
• Iron Fist : Shigan - a pure offensive attack Dio combines iron body and finger pistol to create more power.
  

Rankyaku - Tempest Kick

• Soaring Thunderbird - a tempest kick that’s very long and has great reach. It’s shaped like an eagle somewhat
  
• Tiger Hunt : Popcorn Lavatory - this tempest kick can chase the targe and ricochet of objects to change direction at least 3 times
  
• Queen Bee : Nest Swarm - a tempest kick that splits into lots of very small versions barely visible to the eye
  

Shigan - Finger Pistol

• Yellow Lotus : Nelumbo 16/32/48/64 Trigrams - uses shigan at a fast rate striking the target quickly leaving a lotus pattern on the enemy. The numbers tell the strength and how many hits it is.
  
• Green Wolf : Pack Fury - he uses shigan on all his fingers. He closes the distance and claps down his hands like a wolves jaw
  
• Dragon Whip Snap Pistol - he uses his hair to forms tails with a finger extended and he whips his hair striking the target repeatedly creating snapping sounds
  

Kami-e - Paper Arts/Drawing

• Paper Arts : Afterimage - this is the same move used on lucci by stussy.
  
• Paper Arts : String Body - allows him to manipulate his body and be flexible like string
  

Rokuogun - Six King Gun

• Six King Pistol: Roku O Bullet - a slightly weaker version of regular rokuogun, he uses one hand and strikes the target with a powerful shockwave internally damaging them
  
• Six King Pistol : Maximum Ring Soaring Kick - a move where he can combined with a combo and finishes it with a Powerful Strong kick that emits the shockwave upon contact severely damaging them inside and out due to its close proximity.
  
• Six King Pistol : Yubi nui jū - a move where he uses shigan and rokuogun creating a thread sized shockwaves together meant to act like a painful sewing needles going thru the body repeatedly at high speeds. It’s radius of attack is quite large as well taking up the whole chest area
  
• Six King Pistol : Lion Death Strike - opens both his hands and uses iron body : Diamond Rhino on them. He closes in and creates a single very large flying shockwave attacking the opponent. This shockwave has the shape of a large lion head with an open mouth, it closes upon making contact with the target encasing them entirely. This can be launched from a distance too
  

Fighting Style
Dio fights using his rokushiki and fruit powers. Similar to kumadori he uses his hair, hands and feet to fight with too. He normally forms his hair into hands and barrages the opponents. He will change the way his hair is increasing it’s density or changing it’s characteristics using his fruit powers to increase power. He uses his Rokushiki moves mainly.