#it's all off to a great start

[eternalchaoschocolaterain]

The Most Powerful Waitress

Chapter one School's out

Chapter three: No cure for me

Chapter four: Rinse and Repeat

Chapter five: Patience

Chapter six: I don't know

Chapter seven (final chapter): No one knows

Chapter two summary: Merula auditions at the opera because her voice deserves to be heard.

02. I'd hire me

‘Wake up, Ruru.’

Quinn’s singsonging pierced through Merula’s foggy dream state and she groaned. Why couldn’t mornings start in the afternoon?

‘Five more minutes.’

‘You said that ten minutes ago. Come on, you don’t want to be late. I’ll make you breakfast.’

‘Fine.’

Today she had another job interview. She hadn’t lied to Haywood, she did have options. Not as much as she liked though. She had owled multiple venues asking what kind of jobs they had available, but had gotten almost nothing back. No one had given an actual reason, but she knew why. After all these years and all her accomplishments (O’s for all her N.E.W.T.s!), people still couldn’t see past her family. Like she chose to be the daughter of death eaters, or worse, the niece of a wannabe cult leader. Being made into an accomplice had been the best time of her life. Who didn’t like betraying friends?

Not that she needed a job to survive, she could do nothing for the rest of her life and still be rich when she died. But what good would staying at home do her? She’d end up bored and worse, forgotten.

For now the time off was a nice break, but if she didn’t want it to last she needed to get up. So she went for a quick shower and put on a purple pantsuit. Quinn gave her a long look and whistled when she entered the kitchen.

‘I’d hire you.’

‘Of course you would. Everyone should.’

Quinn handed her eggs with toast and flipped through a cookbook. She had cooked every meal so far and kept trying out new recipes. Turned out to be a good cook too, much to Merula’s delight. Cooking had never been her favourite thing. She cooked for the result, but Quinn cooked for fun. Every meal made her question her decision not to make this arrangement permanent yet, until she remembered that Quinn would want to invite her friends over if she lived here. For now, Merula wasn’t ready to share her home with anyone else.

‘What’s for dinner?’ Merula asked when she sat down next to Quinn. She peered at the book and saw a recipe for roasted brussels sprouts. That better not be it.

‘I was thinking braised eel, or fried cauliflower and salad. What do you think?’

Much better!

‘Eel of course, I love eel.’

‘Yeah, I should’ve known.’ Quinn chuckled, flipped a few pages back and put in a bookmark.

Before Merula left, Quinn gave her a quick kiss and told her to break a leg. Even though she didn’t need luck, she appreciated the sentiment.

Today she an audition at the Banshee’s theatre. She’d found out about it through an ad in the Daily Prophet. The Banshee’s theatre was looking for singers for their newest opera: Cliodna. Which told the life story of the famous witch. Maybe this would be the job for her. She’d be a perfect Cliodna. Genius, stunning, an amazing voice, she had it all!

Her mum had taught her to sing. She’d been an opera singer at the Banshee’s theatre and up until the arrest she’d sung for her every night, her voice lulling Merula to sleep. During the day they practiced singing together in preparation for her audition for the Frog Choir. Both her mum and dad were impressed by her raw talent and at school she had gone on to impress everyone else too. No one stood a chance when she auditioned for the Frog Choir and Professor Flitwick assigned her solo’s whenever he needed a soprano. He’d even suggested her to Celestina Warbeck when she asked for students to sing with her during the performance at school. She’d managed to get the solo part.

Surely the Banshee’s theatre would be impressed too. She could use a success after her earlier job interviews. The first had been at the biggest publishing house in the country, but all they wanted was to sell her story. Get her to tell all about the battle with R, her role as double spy and how in the end she turned around to help defeat her aunt. While she was flattered by their interest, to write the book she’d have to talk about her feelings. Like that was ever going to happen. No way that she would let strangers in on her private thoughts.

Her other interview had been at St. Mungo’s, for the cure research team. If hired she would be trained to invent new potions and spells. Extensive knowledge of the dark arts and potions were required. The job itself sounded great. She would learn how to experiment with spells and potions and invent her own. She’d have to do constant research and keep up to date with developments in the darks arts. Something she already did on her own. So, of course she’d do great and the interview went well, but the problem was that no one would know about her. No one cared about cure inventors.

Then there were the desk jobs. Like a Snyde would ever work a desk job.

No, getting to be the lead in an opera sounded better. People would see her on stage. She’d get to mesmerize the crowd. They would adore her.

She stepped out of the fireplace from a nearby pub she’d flooed to. The Banshee’s theatre stood as proud as she remembered. The two-story high glass windows shone despite the dreary weather. Its big entrance made her feel like she’d be part of something great if she ended up working here.

A desk worker escorted her through a long hallway, the hall of fame. Full of paintings of famous singers, all people who’d performed major lead roles. Even though she knew she wouldn’t be here anymore, she couldn’t help but look for her mum’s painting. Like she expected, it was long gone. Maybe her own could hang here instead, bring some glory back.

They ended up in the backstage lounge, a large decorated room with multiple couches and a little bar. A few other people were already there and she could hear singing coming from the stage. She caught herself in one of the many mirrors and smoothed her outfit. Perfect. She looked perfect.

She took seat in the corner of one of the couches, as far away as possible from the other occupant. The other occupant, a fawn woman who looked to be in her 40s, smiled at her.

She’s not going to talk to me is she?

‘What part are you going to audition for?’

Great, small talk with a stranger. Her favourite. Even better when she had no way to escape without coming off as rude when she couldn’t afford to be.

‘Cliodna, of course.’

The woman frowned, but kept smiling. ‘Aren’t you a little young for that part?’

‘I’ve been singing since I was a kid.’

She began to laugh. ‘As have we all, dearie.’

Dearie. The word made her shudder and she crossed her arms. ‘So you think they’d pick you just because you’re older?’

‘Of course not. I’m only saying you’re going up against people much more experienced than you. That’s all. I’m sure you’ll do fine. What’s your name anyway?’

‘Merula Snyde.’

The woman’s face fell and Merula had to repress an eyeroll. The chatter in the room paused for a moment and a few heads turned her way. After all these years it was still the same. Her name evoked fear and disgust in almost everyone she met. She’d contemplated changing it once, but decided quickly against such ridiculousness. The name Snyde had once commanded the respect of people. They had been a proud, powerful family with a rich history in politics and high society. As the last Snyde not dead or in Azkaban changing her name would mean erasing her history. Erasing not only the bad, but the good things too. No, she’d rather make the name Snyde something to be proud of again.

‘Oh, I’ve read about you in the paper. I don’t think this world is a good fit for someone like you.’ Her smile returned, but looked forced and overly polite now.

‘Someone like me?’

‘Yes, well, you know what you did. What family you come from. The opera world is for a certain kind of ‘refined’ people.’

‘I’m not responsible for what my family did. You know nothing about me!’ Merula’s voice rose and a few more people turned their heads.

Great, just great.

‘I suppose we’ll have to see what the audition panel thinks.’

‘I suppose.’

Merula got up to get a goblet of water from the little bar and ignored the stares that followed her. Stupid people. They didn’t know anything about her, they just wanted to think they were above her. Well, she’d show them who was really above.

After finishing the goblet, she fought the urge to slam it into the bar. Instead, she put it down gently and made deliberate soft steps to another couch. Once there she turned her gaze to the ceiling with all its swirls and twirls and recited the songs she’d picked for the audition in her head.

‘Miss Snyde?’ A man called out to her and beckoned her to follow him.

Show time.

She followed him towards the stage, where he left her. The opera hall looked just like she remembered. Red plush seating went up to five rows high. Right behind the orchestra pit sat the four people she would impress. She recognized one of the women, Eliza Kreslina, as a former colleague of her mum. They were led by the head of the chorus: Mister Nicholich. He rose from his seat when she entered the stage.

‘Welcome Miss Snyde. Before you start, please tell us a bit about yourself and your experience.’

‘I’m a soprano and I’ve been singing since I was a little kid. My mum taught me.’ She didn’t miss the way Madam Kreslina shared a look with another panel member and clenched and unclenched her fist.

It doesn’t mean anything. It doesn’t mean anything.

‘I’ve been on the Frog Choir for four years and have sung with Celestina Warbeck when she performed at school. I love singing, absolutely love it and I’m a quick learner, so I know lines and lyrics won’t be a problem. Especially with my work ethic.’

Mister Nicholich nodded. ‘Very well. You may start your performance.’

And start she did. Within second the notes flew from her throat, all smooth and rich. She’d chosen three songs with different ranges to show off and in three different languages too: French, Italian and German. That should impress them. She didn’t know anyone her age that could sing in any language other than English. After what she knew to be a flawless rendition she waited as the panel whispered among themselves.

‘That was a wonderful performance, you have a beautiful voice, Miss Snyde.’

Her chest swelled with pride. ‘Does that mean I got the part?’

‘The part?’

‘Of Cliodna, of course.’

‘What? Oh, no, no, no. We’re looking for someone more refined and with much more experience on stage to play her.’

‘More refined?’ There was that word again.

‘You will need to work on your stage presence. While your voice is wonderful, you don’t draw me in. I would hesitate to hire you. I just don’t know if someone like you would be a good fit.’ He cocked his head a little and gave her what had to be the fakest look of compassion anyone besides her aunt had ever given her.

‘How would I not be a good fit? I’ve been around the opera since I was a kid. Mum and dad brought me here all the time. I know how it works backstage.’

Mister Nicholich’ face didn’t change. ‘We’ll have to discuss if you’re the kind of person we want to hire. You’ll hear from us.’

Yeah right. Merula stomped her foot. ‘Just say you don’t want a daughter of death eaters and be done with it! It’s always the same. You all expect the worst from me.’

The panel gasped in shock and Mister Nicholich pursed his lips. Madam Kreslina rose from her seat, her white cheeks flushing. ‘How dare you! You’re young and inexperienced and we wanted to discuss what kind of part would fit you given that fact and the range of your voice. You’ve got a lot of potential. I worked with your mum, she was a great singer. It’s a shame how she turned out, but that has nothing to do with you.’

Silence fell over the hall as Merula let the words sink in. Madam Kreslina sounded sincere, but things didn’t add up.

‘Then why did you remove mums painting?’

‘Because after her conviction we couldn’t keep it up in good conscience. She’s not the only one we had to remove.’ Madam Kreslina’s face hardened. ‘I understand you may have had a rough start, but whatever start you had, it’s no reason to take it out on us. Now if you would make way for the next candidate.’

‘You understand nothing!’

Merula stomped off the stage. They had it easy from their plush red seats and their jobs which made everyone look up to them. How could they ever understand what it was like to have the entire country at your throat for your family’s actions? They didn’t know shit. Whatever, being an opera singer would probably become boring real soon anyway. Merula made her way back to the pub, her boots making big splashes in the puddles. Once she got back home, she looked around for Quinn, but couldn't find her inside.

Seriously, in this weather?

She entered the porch through the kitchen and sure enough, the broomstand was missing a broom. Merula shook her head, only her girlfriend saw rain and thought it made the perfect weather for flying. Venting had to wait, because she wasn’t about to get wet looking for her.

The large porch connected the kitchen to the ballroom. Or what used to be the ballroom. Nowadays she used it mainly for roller skating. In the corner stood a large fireplace with two comfortable purple sofas. Despite the rain the temperature wasn't that bad. Even so, Merula turned the fireplace on as she flopped on the couch and pondered her day.

Total waste of time. She should’ve known ‘someone like her’ couldn’t ever have been a good fit for the opera. If she’d thought about that beforehand, she would've stayed inside.

'You're back!' Arms wrapped around her from behind and Quinn planted a wet kiss on the side of her face. Water dripped off her, down Merula's back and chest. 'How did it go today?'

'Ugh, dry yourself off, will you?!'

'I'm going to take that as a not good.' Quinn twirled her hand and steam came off her. Her freckled cheeks were red from her exercise. Now dry, Merula allowed her to sit down next to her. 'What happened?'

She burst out ranting about everything that went wrong and how horrible she'd been treated, but instead of sympathy all she got from Quinn was a frown.

'You yelled at the panel? I thought you were working on your temper?'

'My temper’s fine!’ How dare she! Of all people, she should understand her. She knew everything about her. ‘Didn’t you hear anything I said? They removed mums painting and said they didn’t know if they could hire ‘someone like me’’

‘And what about what Madam Kreslina said afterwards?’

‘She was just backtracking because I called them out!’

‘You don’t know that! And you’ll never know now.’

'You've no idea what you're talking about. You got handed this prestigious job at the ministry without even looking for anything!'

'Really?’ Quinn's cheeks turned a different shade of red and her voice lowered. ‘I just got a job shoved down my throat that I know nothing about. All I know is that I start ‘somewhere in August’ and that I don’t have a choice. But I don’t want that job. I want to be outside. At least you have a choice.'

Her voice faltered a bit and Merula felt guilty for her outburst. Perhaps Quinn was right. She looked away from her, to the formal garden. Once her father's pride and joy. As a herbologist he knew exactly which plant liked to go where. He had planted so many different species that the garden bloomed almost year-round. Now, eight years after the arrest, the garden was an overgrown mess. She had tried to keep up at first, but couldn’t. As a ten year-old she just didn't have the necessary skills.

Then there was the biggest part of the garden: the unicorn pasture. Complete with waterfall. Her mum had kept three unicorns even before she had her. The unicorns had been seized the day after the arrest. Only when she got introduced to the herd living in the Forbidden Forest did she find out what happened to them. At least they still lived a good life.

She pulled her knees up to her chin. Her parents arrest had dominated her life so far. People had scorned her, send her death threats, but she’d be damned if she let it continue. She deserved to be known for her accomplishments. For Salazar’s sake, she was fucking powerful! A force to be reckoned with. Anyone would be lucky to work with her.

'I'm tired of people thinking the worst when they see me. Or treating me like I'm some charity case.'

Quinn's face softened and she reached for Merula's hand. 'I know. And you're right, I don't know what that's like. I'm sorry, I guess I'm just jealous.'

'I suppose I'm jealous too,' Merula sighed and let herself be pulled into a hug. 'You and Copper got those big jobs just handed to you, but I was there too. I did more than Copper! But I had to send dozens of letters and got only a few replies.'

'I know. It’s not fair, but you’re not helping yourself when you go off the way you did.’

‘I suppose,’ Merula groaned and buried her head in Quinn’s chest. ‘I guess I do have one flaw.’

‘Yeah you do.’

‘I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have snapped at you.’

‘Thanks.’ Quinn snuggled her a bit closer. ‘Don’t worry so much. You’re the Most Powerful Witch, you’ll find a job that matches your capabilities. Even if it takes a while.’

‘I know.’

As unfair as it all was, dwelling on it wouldn’t help. Nor would sitting at home. She had to start somewhere, how else were people going to recognize her talents? Tomorrow she’d have a look again at those other jobs. Surely one would fit her. She’d be fine. Everything would be fine.

‘You know,’ Merula said, changing the subject. ‘If that ministry job doesn’t work out you can always quit and become my housewife. Cook me dinner every day.’

‘That doesn’t sound half-bad,’ Quinn chuckled. ‘Maybe when we have kids.’

There it was again, that certainty that they’d stay together forever. As if there was no way they wouldn’t get married and have kids. After today she could only hope it would be as easy as Quinn made it sound. Although, this was supposed to be the easy part. Today was only a small hitch in what would be a great future.

[pokimoko]

I can't keep being fundamentally changed as a person by animated movies, it's just not sustainable.

[trueloveistreacherous]

Bev Melon called me an un-fun turtle. Un-fun. I'm fun, right? Yeah. Sure. I mean, you're not for everyone, but you are to us.

Steve Martin, Martin Short and Selena Gomez as Charles-Haden Savage, Oliver Putnam and Mabel Mora in Once Upon a Time in the West (S04E01) Only Murders in the Building (2021-present)

[phoenixcatch7]

Okay but it's super interesting how

Din = Power = Ganondorf

Naryu = Wisdom = Zelda

Farore = Courage = Link.

Because Din, in the hylian creation myth, created the physical world. Naryu then created the laws - gravity, time, etc. And Farore finally created life - plants and people.

Din created the body, naryu the mind, Farore the soul.

And the triforce and its wielders so perfectly reflect that.

Ganon is physical power, he is big and intimidating and he breaks things. He is cunning and determined, but that's not what he focuses on. He is might makes right.

Zelda is wisdom and cleverness. She is stall tactics and information and team work. She is a powerful mage with a spine of steel, but that's not how she'll win. She is the pen being mightier than the sword.

Link is courage and persistence. He is the wild card sneaking behind enemy ranks, always moving, plunging into terrifying situations head first. He's a phenomenal fighter with a keen wit, but that's not what will get him through his challenges. He is bravery not being the absence of fear but the triumph over it.

They sit in perfect parallels to each other.

And ganon is reborn through his body - his resurrection is immortality. No matter how low he is cast, as long as he has a body he can claw his way back. He can cling to his power, build it ever higher.

Zelda is reborn through the magic of her bloodline. It's the accumulated knowledge handed down for generations, the unique power she must master, the skills she must develop to survive and get her kingdom out the other side intact. Even her name, the knowledge of herself, is handed down from all the way from the very first. Her ancestors knowledge of her future presence, her stability, is what gives her the edge.

Link is reborn in spirit. He is not bound by flesh or blood. Just like his wanderlust soul he can reappear in any time or place. His variation, his unpredictability, is exactly how he fights. It's what makes him so hard to pin down.

Ganons need to build strength means he can't chase after link. Links impulsiveness means zelda can outwit him. Zeldas stationary predictability means she's an easy target for ganon.

But the other direction?

Fire melts ice, ice redirects lightning, lightning burns fire.

And that's the very essence of the triforce.

[krazieka2]

Here's a big old Fire Emblem Search & Find I did for the FE3H Masquerade Zine! Find the Golden Deer, but see if you can't find the rest of the students as well! For the ultimate challenge, see if you can't name every character! (Disclaimer two characters are NPCs with no names)

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

I started reading Dungeon Meshi last week, became instantly charmed and captivated, and blitzed through the entire manga in 4 days (and changed my profile picture about it). With that in mind, I would just like to say...

I love your dungeon meshi art so so much

CHILCHUCK!!!!!!!!

Thank you kindly! I love Dungeon Meshi a lot, so I'm happy to see so many people get into it for the first time.

CHILCHUCK!!!

[daegu-based-terrorist]

I’m sure you felt very oppressed when 10,000 Native American soldiers and 600,000 African Americans all marched into Korea under the American flag and joined the white soldiers in the mass murder and destruction of Korea.

There were Asian Americans in the American army as well, around 200 of them died but it should have been all.

All American soldiers should come home in body bags ❤️

Most of my “angst” IS directed at white people. My exactly ONE post about African Americans was to point out that despite African Americans being oppressed within the United States you guys still benefit from US imperialism and have, at times, gleefully taken part in it. My post was about the fact that “anti racist” African Americans often flex that they brought fried chicken to Korea during the Korean War, when they should be ashamed about their ancestors being apart of the colonial army that murdered millions of Koreans.

I promise you it mattered very little to Koreans whether or not the US soldier who raped and then killed them was white, black, native or a fellow asian. And it matters very little to me.

Your bombs still kill us, I don’t care what colour the hand was that laid them, it went home to a country draped in American flags. I just hope that flag was draped over their casket.

[kryptidkhaos]

Keep the lights on or put food in the fridge? Help us not have to decide.

Our last two paychecks lined up real bad with the holidays and got massively delayed in depositing. You know what didn't get delayed at all? Any of our bills drafting out of the bank! 🙃

So thanks to "fuck you for being poor" overdraft fees for bills that should have been covered, we lost nearly $500 to overdraft fees.

That's our grocery budget for the entire month, much less just this two week pay period, and it's left us short on utilities. 3 out of 4 of us have doctor appointments this month and prescriptions that need refilled.

We're kinda screwed. It's especially upsetting on top of everything else because I'd done a lot of very careful and tight budgeting before the New Year, and I had a sliver of hope in me that we might be able to at least get through a few months of 2024 without having to beg for help. All that's being helping me cope with this situation is the reminder that I've done my best and capitalism actively wants to punish me for existing.

If you'd like to help four disabled trans people stay warm and fed, it would means the world to me. If you have nothing to give, please reblog this post to give us a wider net.

p@ypal.me/chaosqueer

v3nmo: @chaosqueer

c@shapp: @chaosqueer

[thresholdbb]

How it started:

How it's going:

[seilon]

imagine being edwin payne and going to hell in 1916, then escaping hell and coming back to earth in the late 80s. the technology and culture shock would be fucking insane. like we joke a lot (rightfully) about his lack of understanding in the internet, but what about the instant shift he had to have made from occasionally getting to listen to classical music through a pre-radio gramophone, to hearing bass-boosted synth-heavy new wave pop blasting from nightclub speakers on every other london street corner? electrical appliances were basically just barely being introduced to the average home in the 1910s, then suddenly edwin has to wrap his head around every house having a refrigerator, a washing machine, a dryer, a microwave, a television– let alone what all this stuff is and what they all do. and let’s not even get started on social progress– women having rights, men on magazine covers wearing flashy makeup, legitimate interracial marriages existing, etc etc etc.

all this to say; he’s doing pretty good for someone that had to try and catch up on 70 years of technological and societal progress– not quite getting what the internet is yet seems pretty understandable in the scheme of things.

[thenotoriousscuttlecliff]

When they come to do a live action reboot of Wonder Woman they need to remember that Diana has two mothers.

[stagefoureddiediaz]

We’re totally getting Tommy saying something about Eddie ‘being around all the time’ aren’t we!

[masonjarsmoments]

Not Jannik saying "I hope we play some more " about Jack in his german interview. This might be Carlitos last straw.

[star-shapedfruit]

Oompa Loompa Meth Lab was not a meme I was expecting so early into 2024 but I don't think anything is going to top this tbh

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Jingles a little bell in front of you to convince you to do tasks.

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[blueskittlesart]

hands & feet for character design class :)