#hold on I feel like the second trick needs a random passerby

[fuckyeahchinesefashion]

Tips of using plastic bags by 杨萍萍

[kitty-ray]

We Say Goodbye

When the rubble of the war is settled, Kaminari Denki is amongst those who don't survive. It's five years later and his friends are given one last chance to say goodbye.

AO3

The cool Spring air nips at Bakugou’s face, but he’s too distracted by his friends to even care. Kirishima’s and Ashido’s arms are wrapped around his waist while Sero and Jiro laugh at the stumbling three behind them. They’re making so much noise and people are looking and there’s so much happening that nobody even cares at this point. The alcohol has well wormed itself into their systems and doesn’t appear to be leaving any time soon. Bakugou’s okay with this. For one night, one night out of the entire year, he’ll be okay with this. 

“Oh!” Ashido cries and releases her hold on Bakugou’s waist. She grabs at Kirishima’s arms, pulling him away too and making him spin her. “I don’t want this night to end!” 

Sero laughs. “We’re just heading to Bakugou’s, not to bed.”

“I don’t remember inviting you lot over.”

“Nah, we invited ourselves. It’s best you go along with it, Blasty,” Jiro says before she dives back into her conversation with Sero. The nickname strikes a chord in his stomach, but Bakugou’s too drunk to pay much attention to it. 

He doesn’t want to think about it. He doesn’t want to think about the five years that have passed, he doesn’t want to think about his scars or their scars, and he definitely doesn’t want to think about the lack of scars. Instead, he focuses on the people here and his best friend waiting for him at home. 

There’s a crash coming from the alley next to him, and one quick look at his friends shows that none of them heard it. Really, he should keep walking. It’s probably a cat (and heavens knows he doesn’t need another one of those) or maybe even some wannabe loser villain someone on duty can take down. But Bakugou can’t help himself from stopping, especially after he hears whining. 

“Hey, dumbass,” he calls out. “I don’t know what the fuck you’re looking for, but it ain’t gonna be in that trash pile! It’s not exactly the comfiest in there.”

The whining continues, and Bakugou’s about go in there when he stops. There, sitting right on top of a pile of trash bags and cardboard boxes, is Denki Kaminari. 

Kaminari rubs his head before looking up. “Whoa, hey, Bakugou! I thought you were with Midoriya and Todoroki! Wait a minute, where am I?”

He doesn’t say anything, just stands and stares as the other blond gets up. He’s wearing his hero costume, and his glasses are all askew, but Kaminari doesn’t care about that. The blond’s too focused on rubbing his ass and complaining about falling. 

“Anyway,” Kaminari continues. “The battle’s getting a little hairy, and there’s this gigantic villain coming at you’re way. You should definitely let everyone know. Oh! Do you remember Yanagi from 1-B? Dude’s, she’s so pretty, and I got to lay in her lap and everything! I don’t really remember what happened except for all these rocks and--whoa!” 

Bakugou pulls Kaminari into his arms. When Kaminari struggles, he just holds on tighter. He’s real, Bakugou tells himself. He’s real and he’s here. 

“Bakugou! Where’d you go man? We need your keys!” Kirishima calls. Bakugou doesn’t dare move and simply keeps holding onto Kaminari. There’s still a part of him that’s telling him that what he’s seeing is just his mind playing tricks, but Kaminari’s struggles tell him that it’s not. 

“Bakugou, man, what are you…? Denki?” 

He doesn’t flinch when he feels Kirishima crash into the two, but Kaminari squeaks again. “Whoa, man! What’s going on?” 

Kirishima ignores him and briefly letting go to call out, “Guys! Get over here! Hurry!” 

“Hey, wait, is something wrong?” Kaminari pulls away and looks between the two. “What’s up? Why aren’t you guys wearing your hero costumes? And where are we?” He pats Bakugou’s chest. “Why are you so buff?”

“Kiri, Bakugou? You in here?” Sero calls out. 

“Is something… oh.” Ashido’s voice trails off. Bakugou turns, shoving Kaminari in the direction of his friends. The blond stumbles and calls out, but Sero catches him before he could fall. The three of them stare at Kaminari before Ashido’s sobs break through the silence. She launches herself at him. “Denki!” 

That was all it took for all of them to bombard him with hugs. They’re all drunk and tired and don’t care if that one random lady walking by is giving this group of adults crying weird looks because he’s here. Kaminari squirms as he tries to get out. “Guys!” 

Ashido’s the first to pull away, but she just places her hands on his cheeks. “Denki, you have no idea how happy we are to see you.”

“But I just saw you! We’re fighting that army and the big, destructive villain, and you were…” he trails off. His gaze flits between the group. “You were all fighting with me.”

“Kaminari,” Jiro says, her hand running through his hair. “That was five years ago. The battle’s over. It’s been over.”

“But I… We’re… I don’t get it.”

The group shares a look. There’s no denying that this is Denki Kaminari, albeit a bit younger than they wished. He looks exactly like the day they found him. Honestly, that’s probably what hurts Bakugou the most. 

Bakugou crosses his arms but stays close. “Kaminari.”

Kaminari’s head whips around. For him, this is probably the first time he’s ever heard Bakugou say his name. “B-Bakugou?”

He’s not deterred. Looking him in the eye, Bakugou says, “You’ve been dead for five years.”

His face falls, and he looks at all of his friends. They all nod. 

A car passes by them. There’s a dog barking as a woman walks past. A couple of men are yelling and laughing. They pay no attention to any of this.

“I don’t want to die,” he murmurs. Kaminari reaches for the closest person--Ashido--and sobs with them. “I’m not ready to die! I don’t want to leave you!” He turns his gaze to Kirishima. “You guys are the best friends I’ve ever had.”

They sit there, sobbing together and holding him. Bakugou pulls Ashido closer to him when she starts to dry heave. Kirishima has a death grip on Kaminari. Sero and Jiro have started to lean on each other while holding Kaminari’s hands. Closing his eyes, Bakugou drinks in this moment, relishes in hearing the dumbass’s voice, letting this sink in. 

He opens his eyes when he sees Kaminari’s body start to glow. Alarmed, Kaminari sobs. “I-I’m scared. I don’t want to go!”

Jiro places her hand on Kaminari’s cheek and smiles. “You got this, Chargebolt. We love you.”

He gives her a weak smile. “I love you guys, too.” 

They press their foreheads together right before he disappears. The night has gone quiet, so quiet. Jiro’s staring into the air, smile still hanging on. He counts the seconds (one, two, three) before it falls and she presses her hands to her mouth. “Oh, fuck…”

Ashido buries her head into Bakugou’s neck, her arms squeezing his middle. He squeezes her back. If it were any other day, any other person, he would have shoved her off and deal with this on his own. But it’s not any other day, and it’s not any other person, and Bakugou doesn’t really feel like doing this on his own. Plus, he’s still a little drunk. 

He sits there with his friends crying for what seems like forever. It’s so late at night that traffic has seemed to have stopped, so he doesn’t feel weird if he’s seen crying with four other heroes in a dark alley. Honestly, he probably wouldn’t even care if someone did see. 

“What are you guys doing here?” There’s a bright light flashing in his eyes before it’s quickly moved away. Blinking, Bakugou looks up, expecting to see a random passerby or a cop but instead sees Deku. His eyes grow wide as he takes in the state of the group. He runs “Whoa! Wha-what’s happening?” 

They don’t answer him, simply sitting there and crying. Eventually, Deku gets them out of the alleyway and up the stairs to his apartment. As everyone is filing into the room, Deku grabs Bakugou’s shirt. 

“Kacchan, why were you all just crying in the alley?” 

Bakugou takes one look at him and thinks about five years ago. He thinks about the terror he felt when he saw him almost die, and it makes him want to vomit. Or maybe that’s the alcohol. Whatever. 

“We had to say goodbye,” he whispers then follows his friends. They’ve crashed on the floor, and he can see that the girls are already nodding off. Sighing, he grabs them blankets and drapes it over them. “Idiots,” he mutters.

He turns back to Deku, eyes flicking down to his arms, noticing his braces are off. The tension leaves his shoulders as Deku wraps his arms around him. 

“I know what day it is,” Deku whispers. “I’m sorry.”

Bakugou says nothing. Instead, he just holds his friend closer. 

[the-yellowturtle]

The Curious Case of Master Katara (Pt.1)

Rating: T

Relationships: Minor Katara/Zuko, Minor Katara/Yue, Katara & Toph, Katara & Sokka, Katara & Zuko, Katara & Korra 

Summary: In the sixth year of Fire Lord Zuko’s reign, Master Katara of the Southern Water Tribe is assassinated. (OR: Katara Becomes the Painted Lady!AU) 

CW: some cussing, mentions of violence, brief mention of the the desecration of a corpse, misogyny and Katara slander

Special thanks to @levitatingbiscuits for the beta :3 

AO3 Link 

An extremely popular saying in the Western Earth Continent, to save the Fire Lord and Avatar in your past life, means that an individual is extremely skilled or fortunate in some way; so much so that the only way a person could have earned such a splendid life was by living a virtuous past one. 

The phrase references Master Katara’s actions during the final year of the Hundred Year War, in which she saved the lives of Fire Lord Zuko and Avatar Aang. Although initially not common knowledge in the immediate years after the war, Fire Lord Zuko and Avatar Aang would go on to confirm multiple times that Master Katara saved both of them with her healing abilities. Strangely enough, it was Princess Azula, Fire Lord Zuko’s younger sister, that landed both of these mortal injuries. 

However, it is mainly thanks to Master Toph Beifong that this saying became commonplace. While teaching metalbending, Master Beifong was known to ask particularly arrogant students, “Do you think you saved the Fire Lord and Avatar?” Often hearing this remark, Master Beifong’s pupils soon began to compliment one another by saying that an individual “must have saved the Fire Lord and Avatar” to be so skilled in the bending discipline. When these students finished their metalbending training they would go on to further spread the saying throughout what was then known as the Earth Kingdom. 

-The Origins of Common Earth Phrases

Toph knows who she is. She is the Greatest Earthbender in the World. She is the inventor of seismic sense, truth seeing, and metalbending. She is the teacher of the Avatar, and one of the people responsible for ending the Hundred Year War. She is a Beifong, but she has carved out her own destiny and chosen her own family. 

Toph knows who she is and she is proud of that person, but it’s not until Aang comes to her one day after her metalbending class that a part of her wishes that she was only the second best earthbender in the world. She could keep metal bending and seismic sense, but truth seeing? She didn’t need that anymore; she didn’t want it.

“Toph, Katara… she… she’s missing.” True. 

“What are you talking about, twinkletoes? What do you mean, she’s missing?” Toph can barely feel his heartbeat over the ringing in her ears. 

“There was an attack. We don’t know what happened to her…. We can’t find her.” True. 

“You need to come with me to the Fire Nation, the rest of us are gathering and trying to find out what happened.” True. 

In the beginning, she is eager to help. This is her friend, and she’s probably out there waiting for them to find her. Toph can also totally hold it over Katara when she has to rescue her like a damsel in distress. Besides, she can’t sit around in the palace waiting for good news. Zuko isn’t allowed to go out there, but there is nothing stopping her. Toph volunteers her services without a question. She will be the investigative bureau’s lie detector; she is the only person in the world with this skill. They will get to the bottom of this in no time. 

They don’t. 

“She was purifying the water when all of a sudden she was struck by an arrow.” True. 

“No, it was two arrows!” True. 

“Arrows? I’m not sure… I didn’t really see anything. It looked like she just fell over… maybe she just tripped or something?” True. 

“One minute she was there and the next minute she wasn’t!” True. 

“She had to have been there! I even found the necklace she was wearing in the water!” True.

“It was the strangest thing. She got shot and then before my very own eyes she disappeared. She just vanished into thin air.” True. 

“Vanished? Her body? You think you’re all so mighty bowing down to the usurper, but then you trust gossip from the rabble. She didn’t disappear. One of the higher-ups brought the body back to the headquarters. Saw it with my very own eyes. Blue robes and everything.” True. 

“Yeah, I saw the corpse, too. We had a feast to celebrate killing one of the war heroes.” True. 

“It wasn’t the waterbender. It was some random peasant girl he came across on the way back.” True. 

“Where is the waterbender? Beats me, probably only the Spirits know now.” True. 

“I don’t know where she is! I shot her twice, she fell back in the water, and then she was gone! I blinked and she was gone!” True. 

“Why? Why did I do it? Because it was easy. You all think you’re so great, but she went down without a fight, that pathetic bi—” 

Toph is given the day off after she pummels the perpetrator through the wall. 

Eventually, they find all the hideouts and headquarters of the New Ozai Society. They find the leaders, their secret stash of funds and a list of their supporters. They find the body of the farmer girl the assassin happened across during his escape, and return her to her family for a proper burial. 

They never find Katara. 

In the past, Toph treated truth-seeing like a fun party trick; a way she could make her friends squirm. Now? She’s tired. She doesn’t want to know that Zuko is lying when he agrees that it wasn’t his fault. She doesn’t want to know that Sokka thinks Katara being alive is an unlikely possibility. She doesn’t want to know that Suki has doubts when she suggests that Katara’s reported injuries would have resulted in a quick death. 

She doesn’t want to see what people believe to be the truth anymore. 

Some semblance of closure finally comes to the group when Aang returns from his journey to the Spirit World. 

“Sokka was right. She’s with Yue,” he states, “She’s a spirit now… the Painted Lady.” True. 

Toph doesn’t know how to react to that statement. She knows Aang believes what he said to be the truth, but a part of Toph wants to scream. Stop using the flowery language, Twinkletoes! With Yue, with the Spirits, is a Spirit, dead; they’re all the fucking same! It doesn’t matter if she’s having a grand ole time with the Moon! It doesn’t matter if she’s some type of Spirit now! She’s gone! She’s not coming back! 

For once in her life, Toph Beifong doesn’t know what to say, so she says nothing. She hugs the others, visits the South Pole for the first time, and offers a shoulder to cry on. However, the tears don’t come for her. Not yet, at least. Maybe she’s tougher than she thought. Maybe that’s a lie. Maybe she’s just in denial. 

Maybe it’s real, though. Maybe Katara really is gone forever. Letting the entire world mourn her doesn’t seem in character for Miss I-Will-Never-Ever-Turn-My-Back-on-People-Who-Need-Me. Because Toph really needs her right now, and she’s still nowhere to be found. 

___

At first Toph doesn’t talk about it. She says her bit at the South Pole, and then Katara and all things relating to Katara are locked away, never to be prodded again. She’s a busy person, being the inventor of metalbending and all, and she doesn’t need to rehash her feelings over and over again for any curious passerby. Besides, isn’t this what Katara would want? For them to get on with their lives? 

So with the resolve of a saber-tooth moose lion, Toph decides to “get on with her life” and resume her position as the Greatest Earthbender in the World. 

Her plan quickly falls to shambles when she attends a play with her metalbending students as a reward for their progress in the discipline. She had thought the night out would provide her with some content to tease the rest of the gang about during their upcoming Ember Island trip. Oh, how wrong she was. Toph at twelve would have found the play hilarious, but Toph in her twenties, with a better understanding of the world, was furious. She was not sure how they managed it, but somehow a post-war Earth Kingdom production managed to treat Katara with less dignity than Fire Nation war propaganda.

Reduced to the ‘Water Tribe Girl,’ the role blatantly reflecting Katara was egregious in every manner. Throughout the play, when Water Tribe Girl wasn’t crying out for someone to save her, she was seducing the two main protagonists —the Fire Lord and the Avatar— thus causing a rift in their friendship. After a brutal onscreen death where a local hunter mistook her for game and accidentally shot her, the Fire Lord and Avatar rejoiced, for they were finally free of her wicked temptations. 

Despite using the Beifong name to promptly end the playwright’s career, she soon learned the production was not particularly unique. Once she started looking, there was a plethora of plays, stories, artwork, and rumors that seemed to thrive off of smearing Katara’s name. The better ones would portray her as the supportive love interest, the Avatar’s Girl, the cheerleader that had no skills of her own to offer. In the worst, she was an immoral temptress threatening to wreck the balance of the world, or a parable for children to learn about the dangers of not planning ahead. 

Toph had fucking had it the day she overheard her students using “tearbend” to mock one another. She couldn’t track down the creators of every shit opinion and piece of art, but she could directly influence the opinions of the people around her. She was never going to give them a rendition of her eulogy all those years ago nor was she going to let them see all the precious moments they shared, but she could tell them the truth. A version of the truth, anyway. 

“Katara was the only person in the world that could claim to be a Master of all three waterbending styles: Northern, Southern, and Foggy Swamp.” 

“Katara successfully traversed the Si Wong Desert with only a single pouch of water.” 

“Katara was such a badass in the North that they decided to start training women in martial waterbending.”

“At the age of fourteen, Katara led a prison uprising that freed hundreds of earthbenders.”

“During Sozin’s Comet, Katara defeated Princess Azula and saved Fire Lord Zuko’s life in under three minutes.” 

“Using only scrolls and secondhand accounts, Katara successfully revitalized Southern Waterbending.” 

It got easier for Toph to talk about her as time went on. She was neither an artist nor a poet, but she could do this. She could get it into her pupils’ heads that while she may be the Greatest Earthbender in the World, Katara was the Greatest Waterbender, and that they better not forget it. The statue she had metalbent of them together that stood outside in the school’s courtyard was sure to remind them if they slipped for even a moment. 

___

For the majority of her life, Toph spent her summers the same way. Once the students were out on their summer break, she would first visit the Fire Nation, then Kyoshi Island, followed by the Southern Air Temple, and finally the Southern Water Tribe. She would often see her family throughout the year, but it was important to set aside a time where it was guaranteed. It was a tradition, and not even the daunting task of traveling with a newborn could stop her from following it. Toph was extremely grateful, however, once Lin was old enough to be an eager participant. 

It’s only when she’s starting to get up there in decades that she adds a new stop to her route. About a day’s journey by foot from her bending school in Yu Dao, there’s a harbor town situated near a waterfall. It is here that one of the Earth Kingdom’s first shrines dedicated to the Painted Lady was constructed. After tales of a civilian ship avoiding disaster by being guided to the eye of the storm by a veiled woman had spread throughout the Western Coast, the Spirit had boomed in popularity. It was now a common practice before setting sail for people to visit the shrine with offerings to pray for a safe journey. The Painted Lady had come to be seen as the guardian of clear skies and smooth waters in the Western Earth Kingdom. 

Although it was never going to be the same as seeing her in person, Toph had found herself adding the shrine as the last leg of her summer vacation. Once arriving in town, she would use the ingredients she had purchased in the Southern Water Tribe and the knowledge Gran Gran had shared with her decades ago, to prepare a pot of stewed sea prunes. After her hard work, she would carry it with her up the steps to the Painted Lady’s shrine to present as an offering. 

Most people would donate money for the maintenance of the shrine or light incense when praying to the Painted Lady. However, Toph wasn’t begging a Spirit for any favors; she was visiting the dead. Gaoling may no longer be her home, but some of the traditions were still ingrained into her. In the Southern Earth Kingdom, you present your loved ones with food, and Katara’s favorite most definitely was her grandmother’s sea prunes. 

Toph has never encountered the Painted Lady in all of her years visiting the shrine, not that she ever really expected to. However, sometimes after she’s done wiping her eyes, she swears that her aching joints feel a bit lighter. 

“‘Till next year, Sugar Queen,” is how she always concludes her visits. If sometimes she hears a “Thank you” in the wind, then that’s between Katara and her. 

[cozycarson]

Mon Amour, Chase Brody

Kind words could help someone more than you know. Chase Brody is a prime example.

Word Count & Warnings: 1246, None

(Based off of the heartwarming posts about our lovely boy ♥)

“And I will see all you dudes,” Chase raised his hands above his head and forced the biggest smile he could muster. “In the next video!” He stayed with his hands in the air and fake happiness plastered across his face for a few more seconds making sure that camera picked it up this time. He couldn’t bear putting on this “mask of happiness” any longer today.

He turned off the camera and stared at his Jack’s desktop screen, unsure of what to do now. He never knew what to do after recording a video, what impurities he needed to spot in the footage, which audio files were disturbed. Sure, he could have sent it to Robin but even he was starting to catch on that maybe “Jack” - Chase nearly vomited at the feeling of having to pretend to be his friend again - wasn’t who he said he was.

Chase knew he couldn’t run the risk of anyone else knowing but…

He shook his head and closed all of the programs he figured would be used in one of Jack’s normal recording sessions. He hadn’t been wrong yet and hoped today wouldn’t be the day he fucks everything up again.

Chase looked at the small clock and ran a hand through his hair, sigh escaping him. It was only 11pm and yet he didn’t feel tired - Who knew Jack’s fucked up sleep schedule would have carried over to Chase and his friends? - something that wasn’t too unusual for him.

Whenever Jack needed to kill time, he’d interact with the community. Even if he wasn’t replying to people or liking things or reblogging their fanart, he was always watching them. Chase wondered deep down if his friend used the fans as his own getaway for whatever problems he was dealing with.

It hurt to know that his oldest, and best, friend could have been struggling with his own demons, demons so draining he felt as if he had to deal with it alone. It hurt to know that Jack could have felt so low he-

Chase stopped those thoughts before they could worsen and send him into another fit - it’d be his fifth one today - and opened Tumblr.

He was immediately greeted with the blogs of active community members and friends. His entire dashboard was full of nothing but love and fanart for the other egos. Countless upon countless drawings of Marvin and Jameson teaching other their magic tricks, stories of Jackieboy Man becoming the big hero he wanted, theories on where Schneep had been on vacation, so much praise for “Jack” and Robin on the amazing editing for Anti. (He tried to avoid those posts as often as he could but it was hard when everyone thought this was nothing but an act and wouldn’t stop praising the two men.))

There was nothing for Chase of course. He was overlooked in all of this madness, but he was fine with that. When you’ve been forgotten for so long, it becomes second nature to not want to be wanted.

He didn’t let it get him down and kept scrolling through, liking random posts and adding harmless comments he knew his friend would have said. Whenever a post came up talking about “Jack” has been acting weird lately or how “Jack” looked “so cute in this new video”, he wanted to breakdown and scream.

He was tired of having to pretend like Jack. They didn’t know how much Chase despised having to act like him, how he hated seeing his reflection in the mirror after, how he drank himself damn well near to death every night. They didn’t know how much Chase felt like an imposter and just wanted to rip this sickening mask off.

He’d never let them know something was wrong. He would never put the fans in such a helpless state.

He went like that until one particular post had stopped him his tracks, one that had sparked something deep inside of him that he thought were long dead.

It was only a simple post. Yet the words stared back at him with such…love. The notes on the post were in the thousands. Thousands of people who agreed.

He scrolled through them and began to sob.

There were thousands of people saying they loved him. Not Jack. Him. Chase. Thousands of people who had poured their whole heart into their messages, who felt Chase’s pain, who sympathized, who wanted nothing more than his happiness.

He quickly left the post, not wanting to believe that many people cared, scrolling down some more. Surely they had made a typo in the post. There was no way on Earth that he could feel so cared for by so many strangers that have only seen him and heard his tragic story once.

But as he continued down each post, all he was met with was love.

“Reblog if you want Chase Brody to be your dad,”

“Reblog if you want to hug Chase Brody,”

“Reblog if you want Chase Brody to know you care about his well being,”

Nothing but meaningless posts to any other passerby, the words being haphazardly strung together to fill some random guy’s ego. Words that wouldn’t invoke even the slightest of reactions inside of them, words that they’d quickly skim over only to be forgotten a few moments later.

He sat there in shock. His mind wouldn’t let him believe this. His heart yearned for this. His would needed it.

Each post had ended with a phrase that had been overused to the point of losing it’s meaning. A phrase that was practically spit out at every chance someone got. A phrase which the broken man never thought he’d see directed at him.

“We love you, Chase.”

He covered his mouth with a shaky hand and stared at the kind words through teary eyes. He suddenly understood why Jack spent so much time on here.

These people, their words, their art, their feelings, everything about them was like a warm hug to Chase. A hug he never knew he needed until now. A hug that could have possibly saved his life. A hug that would stick with him.

A number had gone up by one in the corner of the screen. Something he couldn’t have normally noticed but had managed to grab his attention this time.

He clicked on the ask box, seeing first hand just how hectic Jack had it. There were hundreds of asks pouring in by the second, never seeming to slow down. All of them asking how meeting Ryan Reynolds went, how he’s doing, just harmless asks.

But the newest ones had stuck out to him. It was more support from the fans. More kinds words.

He spent hours answering all of them, thanking everyone for how generous they were being. He didn’t want anyone to feel as if they were being left out. Even if it meant it took him until the crack dawn to answer everyone who was being so nice to him, he’d do it.

Once he finally answered everything he could, he opened the text feature on the godforsaken website and simply typed out: “Thank you for your kind words. It means a lot. :)” He knew that he had to hold on, not only for his kids, but for them now as well.

As soon as he pressed published he felt a wave of exhaustion wash over him. Chase smiled to himself as he closed everything. He wanted this high to last forever. He went to sleep repeating the all too kind stranger’s words.

We love you, Chase.

[thecrucibleffxiv]

7 WAYS TO CHARM YOUR LIFE INTO A BETTER FORTUNE

Fortune is the blessing of Nald, and it’s important to understand how to curry that favor. The Crucible has you covered for all your Church of Nald’Thal-sanctioned means to curry Nald’s favor, and therefore increase your fortunes.

1: MARRY RICH

It might seem obvious, but you’d be surprised how many people foolishly think to wed out of something as pointless and trite as “love” or “sexual attraction”. Don’t fall for that trick, everyone - instead, use them as weapons to ensnare someone far wealthier than yourself, ensuring your advancement through the social elite of Ul’dah. It’s easy!

2: CARRY A RABBIT’S FOOT AT ALL TIMES

This one’s a much more obscure ritual - you’ll need to somehow find a rabbit. Easier said than done, I’m aware. But you must do so nonetheless. Then, once you have found the rabbit - this is the most important part of the process - you must grab it by its hind legs, hold it upside down and explain to it in a calm and courteous manner why exactly you need good fortune and what you are going to use it for.

Then you [redacted] it against a [redacted] until the legs [redacted]. Simple, right?

3: PLAY THE LOTTERY WITH MY PATENTED TRICKS! PROVEN TO WORK 100% SUCCESSFULLY WHEN THEY WORK!

It might seem counter-intuitive, but it’s true: the more you rely on luck, the more often it will come through for you. This means that you must demand luck in your daily life as often as possible, which poses an obvious problem: it’d be lucky to get thrown off a cliff and survive, but if you’re not lucky it goes poorly. So what do you do?

Lottery tickets. So many lottery tickets. Other gambling is good, too, but lottery tickets are easy and take almost no time. At the Manderville Gold Saucer you are welcome to buy mini cactpot tickets on a daily basis, and consider this a ‘training ground’ for your luck.

Just remember: always go for the 1-2-3, and when it doubt, pick the most vertical line. Never go horizontal.

You’re welcome.

4: JUST CHEAT, JUST DO IT YOU OUTRAGEOUS ASSHOLE

Next time you and your friends are throwing dice to determine who gets the thing you just found in a treasure chest, cheat. How do you cheat, you ask?

By punching them in their stupid faces when their guard is down, grabbing the loot and booking it out before they realize what’s happening.

(Who cares about being sanctioned by the Adventurer’s Guild, anyway? They have a Limsan branch, they can’t possibly be that worthwhile.)

5: TRY NOT BEING UNLUCKY

At this point we’ve exhausted several other options, so let’s just consider the obvious: have you tried not having bad luck? It’s pretty simple, all you have to do is not screw up dice rolls and serendipitous encounters. I mean, honestly, being unlucky is such a poor people thing to do. I suppose that’s what separates us from you, though.

6: GET FRUSTRATED AND CAST A HEX

“Lucky” is an inherently relative term - it’s not an objective state of being, it’s in comparison to your peers. If you’re lucky in one context, you might always come across people so much luckier than you that you no longer are considered “lucky”.

So maybe you’ve tried everything else. Even cheating doesn’t work. But there’s one foolproof method: Hex EVERYONE around you to permanently destroy their luck, so that by comparison you come out smelling like a rafflesia (for the uneducated: it’s a huge flower. If you studied alchemy like a good Ul’dahn you would know that.)

To hex everyone around you, you will need:

The blood of an orphan (chilled and fresh - use all of it, just to be sure)

The skin of an unwed mother’s uncle (no less than a ponze, no more than three - it needs to all be the same donor)

A young frog born on the night of the tenth full moon of the year

The tenth cactuar in its brood

The knife of a tonberry (just to have - it doesn’t actually do anything, it’s just nice)

Horns from those humanoid aldgoats walking around, the ones with the scales

A ponze of everything you find in your kitchen

A napkin used by the Sultana Herself

A prayer rosary to Nald’Thal

A three-eyed bat’s second son (ground into paste and dried for two moons and ten days)

Vials of blood from each of your intended targets

A cauldron, for mixing

The blood of the fools who try to take your legal right of autonomy away from you so they can steal your money and try to get the inheritance they think they deserve (joke’s on you brats, you get NOTHING BUT MY IRE and your sisters get EVERYTHING! Because they’re not WORTHLESS STAINS ON MY HONOR!)

What happens next is so obvious that I don’t feel the need to explain it. If you can’t figure it out you don’t deserve to call yourself a witch.

7: CATCH AND HARNESS THE POWER OF A LEPRECHAUN

There are many opinions you will get about Leprechauns, should you ask around: “What in the hells is a leprechaun?” “why are you in my house?” “what smells like blood?” “Why do you have a knife?”

All these questions are wrong. Leprechauns are real. I know, I caught one. I kept him in my basement until my daughters let him out. It was infuriating. They insist they didn’t actually let him go, and that he was never there at all, which means they have yet to open their eyes fully to the world. If they do not before I die then I have failed as a mother.

Leprechauns look like lalafell, bedecked all in green and with a sly grin and deft hands. You will be tempted to cook them in a stew, for they are far more delicious than any other sort of lalafell, but that is the sort of stupid decision only a midlander would make. What’s more important: one good meal, or a lifetime of luck?

I thought so.

Now, to harness its power, you need to capture it. They are quite prone to alcohol, though they can put down far more than you’d expect, so you’ll need to drug them, too. Then drag them to your house and lock them up somewhere they can’t escape. When they wake up, get a very long and sturdy tree branch from one of those pink-leaved trees the foreigners love so much and poke them with it, chanting “GIVE ME LUCK AND GIVE ME LIFE OR FEEL THE STING OF THE CARVING KNIFE” for hours on end.

It may take awhile, but eventually the creature will cave to your whims and cast his lucky charm on you, and from then on your life will be smooth sailing.

Nailed to the door of The Crucible’s offices by a cackling old woman who signed her name as “The Crimson Witch” and, when questioned, turned a random passerby into a toad as a warning. This article presented as mostly written due to an intense fear she will come back if we change anything or refuse to publish it, all edits were done at the behest of the lawyer who is equally as terrifying. -Anthony Hawke

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