#but apparently not worse landlords

[dreamofbecoming]

lmaooo so ok i live in a shithole apartment, right? whatever, that's noo yawk babey. i always felt like it was especially shitty, but i figured i was probably being dramatic and overreacting and this was just Life In The Big City

so anyway i have to move and i'm thinking about buying instead of renting (bc the world is broken and it's literally easier for me to be approved that way, what the entire fuck) and my realtor (who is amazing i want to be her when i grow up) just sent me some listings along with a link to an article titled "nyc's worst landlord punched on rikers island" with a laugh-cry emoji and the caption "hey, it's your landlord! not for long though! lmao"

[halloweendeity]

.

[onedirecton]

another day, another apartment woe

[be-good-to-bugs]

maybe i WILL get to move back home

[feralprancinghomosexual]

Is my mental health the worst it's been since leaving uni and being diagnosed properly? Yes! Are me and jo trying to do everything to avoid becoming homeless and placed in emergency housing even though no other authority seems to care very much about that? Yes! But did I have the ingredients for a mountain of bruschetta and did it make me feel a little better? Also yes!

[avpd-queer]

I’m still so fucked up by everything that went down with my former best friend, and I don’t know if I’ll ever get over it. They really set me back. They proved to me that my only value to people is as a doormat.

[starcrossedxwriter]

Wicked Fantasies Part 11.1 (MBJ x OC)

A/N: Ummm so welcome backkk! This is 11.1 because there's a second part to this chapter (I know... my self control keeps getting worse lolol) But I hope you enjoy!

TW: grief

“I’m never fucking drinking again,” Raven moaned to herself as she stumbled out of the comforts of bed. She felt like hell, if hell had a truck run over its head a few dozen times. 

Raven generally considered herself an early riser but nothing could pull her out of bed that morning after what was, objectively, the dumbest night of her life. Part of her wished she had had one or two more drinks so she could have officially transitioned into the ‘blackout drunk’ phase. So that she would, at least, be spared the embarrassing memories. But no, every horrible moment of the night from dancing wildly at the bar to Michael saving her was etched into the crevices of her brain with shocking clarity. 

Now, it was after noon and Raven still found herself wanting to be curled under her blanket asleep so she could escape her embarrassment. 

A knock at the door pulled her out of her wallowing self pity. She did not make an attempt to move, expecting Tiffany to answer. However, when the voice of their landlord rang out and her knocking persisted, she quickly slid on her robe to open the door. She decided Mrs. Winters would have to get over the fact that she looked like death reincarnated. 

“Rough night, dear?” 

Raven grimaced for a moment, she did indeed look as terrible as she felt. 

“Something like that,” Raven offered a tight smile, her body slumping against the door. “W-what can I do for you, Mrs. Winters?” 

“Oh I’m just letting everyone know that we had a pipe burst on the floor above. We’ll have folks in and out and you might hear some noise and stuff. But if you see any leaking into your unit, give me a ring?” 

“Of course. Will do. Thanks, have a good one,” Raven tried her best to politely shoo the woman away. However, she lingered. 

“Oh I meant to tell you, that boyfriend of yours is just such a good egg. So kind and polite. Admittedly I haven’t met many famous people,” she laughed. “But you just don’t expect them to have such good manners, you know?” 

Raven stopped. “My boyfriend?? Sorry… When was he here?” 

“He stopped by this morning. Gave me a check for your rent for the rest of your lease. Oh and asked where your mailbox was, said he wanted to drop something in it.” 

Raven was worried her jaw might come completely unhinged as the woman spoke. 

He did what?? 

“Are you alright, dear??” 

“Y-Yea, yea. Just… a bit of a surprise. Thank you.” 

And with that, Raven immediately closed the door, not listening to the elderly woman’s reply. 

“This nigga… I hate him,” she muttered to herself as she slumped against her door. 

Every cell in her body knew that was not true. But she also knew that everything she had told him last night was still accurate. She was too tired to forgive him and not just him… anyone ever again. The world has used up all of her second chances and she did not have it in her heart to be disappointed by him again. The narrative in her brain was so set in stone, she did not think anything he could say or do would make her believe anything else. She could not even make herself go retrieve the note that was apparently waiting for her in her mailbox. 

“Such a coward,” she grumbled as she flopped back into bed. 

She stared at her phone for several minutes, her text thread with Michael open. She wondered what she could even say? Thank you?

She knew any conversations demanding she pay him back or he rescind the money would be moot. Even if she had the mental fortitude to argue with him right now, she would still lose. But she could not just accept it without trying to push back. 

She typed and erased and typed and erased before lamely landing on: 

Raven: You can’t pay my entire rent. I can’t accept that. 

Raven: I don’t want that.

Michael: Yea you can. Told you… gonna show up every day tryin’ to fix us. You just gotta let me.

Raven: Money isn’t gonna fix this, Michael. 

Michael: I know. But it can fix the tangible things I fucked up for you

Michael: So let me fix that for you. 

Raven paused, as a warm sensation filled her, a warmth she had not felt in over a month now. The warmth of being cared for. She had never had someone take care of her without wanting something in return, except Michael. Even when their relationship was built on transactions, he still took care of her without needing or asking for something from her. The book deal, her rent were just the tangible examples of how he had stepped up to right the wrongs he could and she could not deny that those actions meant something, softened something inside her. 

He was doing exactly what he promised he would do the night before. He was fixing what could be, he was showing with his actions that she meant something to him. And yet, that blockade that stopped that belief from taking root was still there, still prohibiting her from believing these actions were anything more than a skilled manipulation. 

He would draw her back in, he would not change, and when he got ready, he would hurt her again. That’s what everyone in her life did. 

Raven: It doesn’t change anything

Michael: I know… didn’t expect it to.

She tossed her phone to the side and grabbed her pillow, screaming into it as her frustration got the better of her. The complex web of conflicting feelings with Michael B. Jordan trapped at its center only continued to grow. She wanted him to let her go, to stop caring and trying and going out of his way for her because that fit into the narrative nailed to the cross of her brain, it would confirm her beliefs and fears. 

But instead he continued to do the things that made her fall in love with him the first time, things that only reignited the dimmed but still existent flame that was her love for him. And she knew she would never get over him if she kept letting that happen, kept letting him in. 

So she did not even respond. Instead, she just closed the thread and tossed her phone to the side. 

“Let him go, Rae,” she demanded to herself. “You don’t deserve him and he doesn’t love you.” She repeated that a few times before it felt real again, before all that had started to soften was once again as solid as a block of ice. 

***

“You look like shit,” Alex moaned as she watched Michael’s makeup artist, Shanta, struggle to make him look less like a living zombie ahead of his Oprah interview. 

They were tucked away in a suite in Oprah's sprawling LA estate. It was difficult to make Michael feel poor but Oprah was certainly one of the few people in the world who could do so. 

“Thanks, appreciate that.” 

“You know I don’t believe in lying to you. Make sure you get those bags under his eyes,” she instructed. “Alright, this is it. Final stretch. Movie’s out and every review is stellar so far. Do this interview, it’ll air this week, Oscars on Sunday and then you can sleep. Though I bet it’s not the schedule keeping you up? Talked to her since the premiere?” 

Michael forced his body not to sag at the mention of Raven as to not disturb the hard work of the woman trying to make him look alive after days of no sleep.  

“She texted me about the rent thing the next morning. But it’s been radio silence ever since.” 

It had only been a few days since the fiasco after the premiere but Michael’s concern for Raven had not diminished one bit. He  could not let her go as she requested but he tried his hardest to respect her desire for space. His heart was stuck in the quicksand that was Raven and he had no desire to pull himself out. He wanted to be right there. He knew eventually he would have to accept defeat, accept that she had moved on. But he could not do it while she still questioned her own deservedness. She could hate him for the rest of his life, it would be her right. But his soul could not allow her to live thinking so lowly of herself. So if he had to pay 30 years of rent or call in favors to make her life easier and make her see that she deserved care and someone to sacrifice for her, he would do it. It was high time someone in her life put her above themselves. 

“Well, at least she talked to you. That’s something. You’re doing what she asked. Sis has lived a life, she needs time and space. Keep doing what you're doing. Except for the no sleep. For the love of God, by the Oscars, please get a good night’s rest. That’s your night.” 

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves, Alex…” 

She scoffed. “You’ve won the big four, Mike. It’s not just because I believe you deserve it… Statistically, Best Actor is yours. The Oscars is your night. Have a little faith in yourself.” 

“I hear you. I just don’t wann-” 

“Excuse me?” A young man poked his head in the door. “Apologies for interrupting. I’m a PA. Just wanted to let you know that we’re almost ready? I can take you out to the garden when you’re ready.” 

“Be right out. Thank you,” Alex called. 

Shanta did her last quick finishing touches before Alex gave him her customary once over. 

“Shanta, my girl, you’re a miracle worker per usual.” 

They both offered Shanta their thanks, Michael rolling his shoulders before heading out the door to walk out to the gardens. 

He had met and interviewed with Oprah once before so he was not particularly nervous. But despite having done millions of interviews, there was always a kernel of nerves right beforehand that he could just never shake. 

He was dressed in slacks and a light black sweater, thankful for a cooler day as he walked out into her expansive gardens where the Oprah Winfrey waited for him. The cameras were already rolling, capturing footage that may or may not make into the hour-long special. 

“The man of the hour!” she called, her arms stretched wide to wrap Michael in a hug. “Actually I think man of the year is more appropriate. Welcome. I can’t tell you how excited I am to have you here.” 

“Thank you, thank you. It’s so good to be here.”

“Have a seat,” she gestured at the very comfy chair across from hers. “And we can jump right in.” 

***

Raven’s head was propped against her fist as she stared at her computer. A sentence. That was the grand total of her hard work for that Wednesday afternoon. But it was something, she supposed. Weeks of hard work had amounted to maybe two or three pages of her book. She had been offering Angelina vague answers on her progress, ducking and dodging her to avoid admitting that there was no way in hell she could have a draft by March 15 like they talked about. 

“Rae? You busy?” 

She turned in her chair toward the door to find Tiffany’s head poking in. 

“Nope… I’ll never be busy again at this rate,” she grumbled. “What’s up?” 

“I just turned on the interview… if you want to watch?” 

Raven scratched her head, unsure if she could even watch him? See him happy and thriving without her? Despite everything happening between them though, she could not pretend there was not a part of her that still wanted to celebrate this moment in his career. Interviewing with Oprah the week he was poised to win his first Oscar? How could she ever forgive herself if she did not watch this? Even if it hurts? 

“I’ll… be there in a sec. Thanks, Tiff.” 

Raven let out a deep sigh before she grabbed the blanket off her bed and dragged herself to the living room. The interview had already started and he looked gorgeous. Tired, she could tell, in the way he constantly had to readjust his posture, in the bags under his eyes that the makeup artist could not quite fully cover. But even at his worst, he looked captivatingly good. 

Raven found herself studying him so intently that she did not even comprehend the words he and Oprah were sharing. She just watched him and his mannerisms, she focused on the glimmer in his eyes that sparked every so often. She missed looking into his eyes, missed how expressive they were.  

This moment only amplified how much she missed him, missed hearing the deep baritone in his voice and the spark in his eyes when he spoke about his passions. She missed his bright and uninhibited laughter, how his hands were always on her in some way. She just missed him. But she had pushed him away, had told him to let her go. And even if he had not fully let go of her yet, she felt too scared to open that door again, even if her soul ached for her to. Particularly when he continued to try to show up for her in small ways. 

And despite how angry she still wanted to be at him, she had never had anyone show up for her quite like this… try for her like he did. And everyday, her brain took up far more mental space than it should have, debating whether she should follow her foolish heart and forgive him or listen to her logical brain and cast him aside. Days passed and she still did not know the answer. 

“So I’ll admit,” Raven’s ears finally started to pick up the conversation between Oprah and Michael, “I watched Waves more times than appropriate. But Gayle and I saw it at Sundance and we both thought it was just the most heartbreaking and poignant look at loss and grief that we had ever seen. While still being engaging and funny and so relatable. The journey your character goes through is just… I mean I think grief is one of the few universal experiences that we all will have at some point. And you really brought that to life through this character and his struggles with addiction. And the fact that you filmed this while engaged in completely different projects with complex characters like Killmonger in Black Panther and Adonis in Creed 3… I’m curious what you pulled from to give that performance?” 

Michael shifted in his seat as he chuckled, Raven had missed how passionate he got about this project, even though he had been talking about it and doing press for it since they first started dating. She knew he had not truly expected the role to blow up in the ways it did but she could tell he was grateful for it, nonetheless. 

“Well first, thank you. Yea aside from Oscar Grant, Andre was the hardest character I’ve ever played and he stretched me as an actor in ways, you know, I didn’t really expect? And I learned so much from him in his sort of journey through grief. You know, when I read the first script, the line ‘grief is the final stage in love’s evolution,’ really stuck out to me. When you lose someone, grief, this enduring pain you feel, is that love shifting and changing because it has nowhere to go, there’s no outlet for it anymore. And so, Andre really reframed my own thoughts on grief and loss and how I process that and allowed me to pull from personal experiences with loss to pour into that character.” 

“Yea I will say, that line was one of my favorites. I sat with that long after the credits rolled.” 

“Yea same. I remember sitting a-and thinking about that one for a while after reading it. And I loved that even in the more comedic moments of this movie, we still had those lines that made you wanna stop and really sit with what the characters were going through.”  

“Definitely, I was dissecting this movie for weeks after. It’s just amazing. So I do want to shift gears to talk about this moment you're experiencing because of this movie. This really is the biggest moment of your career. You’re nominated for your first Oscar and a favorite to win, so far in 2023, you’ve won a SAG Award, Golden Globe, and BAFTA. And you, as of two days ago, just had your directorial debut in Creed 3. First question, how are you still awake?” Both of them shared a laugh. “But serious question, how has this moment felt? How does it feel to be having this moment at this stage of your career?” 

“Oh wow, when you list it like that, I don’t know how I’m awake either,” he chuckled. “But seriously, you know… it’s been a ride. I know you’ve felt this too but you know, you don’t often take a moment to just pause and soak it in. You finish one interview or award show and your mind automatically just jumps to the next one. And I think what I’ve been trying to force myself to do in the later weeks of this insane time is just to slow down and enjoy it. Not rush through it and really enjoy the fruits of… really years of hard work and sacrifice. But that also means sitting with… you know, the challenges of this time too, which isn’t as rewarding,” he admitted with a sad smile. “But I’m growing and learning alot so it’s worth it.” 

Oprah nodded. “You know I always appreciate when people don’t let the 24 hour news cycle and gossip sort of steal their thunder and moment from them. And I applaud you for sort of moving through the more gossipy side of the last few months with grace and maturity. But you haven’t really talked much publicly about those stories and the effect they have had on you. And you don’t have to get into it if you don’t want but I am curious on how you navigated that and really came out on the other side, from what I can see, stronger for it?”

Michael bowed his head and chuckled. “Um… you know a good friend of mine told me that she thought this was the most vulnerable and most genuine I had ever been publicly on this press tour and I think it’s because I’ve had to navigate some really personal stuff during this great but hectic public moment? And that’s new territory for me.” 

“And I think that friend is right. I don’t think we have seen or learned this much about you ever.” 

“Yea and I wish I could take some credit for it but… it was all one person: Raven Turner. And the way we met, now as the world knows, was extremely unconventional and I can admit that our relationship started as a complete lie. A lie I thought would help me be seen as this serious, mature man my team was worried I wasn’t. And I wasn’t,” he admitted. “I was cold and guarded and not at all the best version of myself. And while I regret how we started and trying to fool the world into thinking I’m something I’m not, there isn’t a bone in my body that regrets falling in love with her.” 

He leaned forward a bit as he spoke. “Because all those walls and barriers we build around ourselves to survive in this world of Hollywood? To endure the criticisms and insanity we deal with? She's the first woman to see me. Not the actor and the money and the fame but just me. And in that, she saved me… without trying or intending to. She just loved me and loving her, choosing her is the single greatest decision I ever made. And I hate how this moment has fallen on her, how my terrible decisions led to these pretty disgusting misogynistic attacks on her. And I think my biggest regret is putting someone as pure as her in the line of fire like that and not doing enough to protect her. And you know, I have to live with that, which is tough.” 

“You know I’ve interviewed thousands of people in my career and while I believe you have to change for yourself and on your own, I also have found that the ones who love us, really love us, are often the most powerful catalysts for change in our lives. I’ve certainly seen and experienced that in my own life and it’s important to spotlight those who were that catalyst.” 

“Oh 100%. Especially when, I think this version of me was always there? I was just too hurt to trust anyone with it, so no one saw it. I buried me under this facade I thought was better? But I fell in love with a woman who taught me that you can’t be guarded, you can’t shut down just because you’re hurt. Life is about getting up every day, being authentically you, and reaching out and loving and risking your heart every time. And sometimes you’ll get swatted away and sometimes you’ll get an embrace. But you just deny yourself love when you don’t show up at all. So I’ve been trying to live by that more lately. Because she showed me what real strength and courage looks like. And I want to have that, I want to lead with that.” 

“Wow… you know people are going to watch this and I think, applaud that vulnerability. It’s refreshing to me because I don’t think our world incentivizes or encourages people to admit when they aren’t being their best selves. So I think for you to do that, at a moment when you’re at the top of your game, is commendable.” 

“She deserves to know the positive effect she’s had on my life. To be celebrated for how she supported me. And you know it’s not just me? When we first started dating, I remember her one stipulation was that we couldn’t go out on Wednesday evenings because she hosted a book club for kids at the library she worked at. And that was the most important thing to her, being there for them. The day of our first date, she spent an hour delivering books and SAT prep books to those same kids she worked just because. There’s just a selflessness to her that is truly admirable. And I think while people are attacking her and calling her these vile names because she made a certain choice during a hard time, they should know who she really is. A woman that would drop everything to help you even when you don’t really deserve it. A woman who I’ve seen give others all she had because they needed it more even when she did not have a backup plan for herself. I could honestly talk about her for the rest of this interview because she deserves celebration far more than I ever could. Genuinely good people don’t always get the shine they deserve, they don’t always get the love and care they deserve because we can often take them for granted. But no one deserves to be celebrated more than her, to be celebrated loudly more than she does.” 

“I love that… she seems like quite the woman.” 

“She is… and I hope she knows that.” 

“So tell me about…” 

The words faded away as his words tumbled through Raven’s head. They clashed jarringly against every belief she had internalized about herself, like metal against metal. But she found herself wanting to believe him. Believe the words a section of the world just heard. She wanted to believe that what he saw in her, even over the course of six months, was who she truly was. Not this broken, damaged scapegoat life had fashioned her into. 

There has to be more than this, right? 

Tiffany nudged her with a box of tissues in her hand. Raven had not even realized she was crying but she accepted them gratefully. 

“Don’t know how I still have tears over this man left,” she whispered as she wiped her eyes. 

“I don’t think those tears are because of him, sis.” 

Raven sniffled and grabbed another tissue. “You m-might be onto something. I can’t watch anymore. Night, Tiffany.” 

However, before she reached her bedroom, she heard Tiffany call her name. 

“I know what he did… sucks. And hurts. But that’s a man who loves you, Rae. More than anything. After that? The only person in the world who still won’t believe it is you.”

She turned around to face her, the back of her hand wiping away a few more stray tears. “You know he said the same thing?” 

“Well, I generally don’t think actors are that smart,” Tiffany admitted with a laugh. “But he’s right about that. You deserve to believe good things about yourself, we all do.”

“Nothing good has ever lasted… I always ruin it somehow. I tried to believe I deserved him and life proved that I didn’t,” she answered, her voice small. “D-Don’t have it in me to try again.” 

“Raven… I know we aren’t best friends or anything. But how many times have I watched you forgiven your dad and sister? Let them back in, try to make things right with them? Try to build the family you want?” 

“Too many…” 

“Right… So why does Michael only get one shot when you found the strength to give them 100? When he’s the one actually showing up for you? He’s the one who actually is trying to earn another chance?”  

“It’s not that simple and you know it.” 

“I know that the only person denying you happiness right now… is you. You push away the good people and things in your life because you feel like you don’t deserve it but no one would be here if you didn’t. Michael, the kids in your book club… me. I don’t keep signing leases with you because you’re a terrible person who ruins everything, no one has a gun to our heads, Rae. We’re here because you do deserve it.” 

“Tiff…” 

“Nope, shut up. This pity party is getting old and tired. It doesn’t matter what I think of you… or what Michael thinks or anyone out there.” She gestured toward the window. “All that matters is the narrative you’ve created and until you decide to believe something else, all you’re going to do is push people away and fuck up and self sabotage because it’s all you think you deserve. You gotta wake up and do some fucking work, girl. Cause until you figure out how to erase this narrative from your brain, you’ll never be happy. And you’ll never fall in love with anyone except for someone who treats you like crap. You’ll never build your own family. You’ll never finish your book or have another fulfilling career. You’ll just be stuck in this broken version of yourself alone… forever. And I’ve seen a few different versions of you over the last two years but this is by far the most pitiful.”

Raven had never heard Tiffany be so blunt. The words were biting but she could not deny that some of them rang true in her ears. And that was always the hardest information to hear. 

“Damn… tell me how you really feel.” 

“The soft gentle love wasn’t resonating clearly so had to go with a different tactic…. Just think about it. And once you fix all this shit and move to a mansion in the hills, don’t forget about me.” She winked at her, causing Raven’s jaw to drop slightly. 

“How do you even know that’s gonna happen?” 

She shrugged and grabbed the remote to press play, Raven not even noticing that she paused it.

“Just got a good feeling about the two of you. Now go so I can lust after him in peace while he's still single. Kidding! Kinda..."

Raven let out a small laugh as she shook her head. "I know you're not kidding. Night, Tiff.” 

She slid into her bed, her only refuge of late, and stared at the ceiling. She was surprised she was not tired of looking at it by now. Michael and Tiffany’s words wrestled with her own thoughts for hours

What was her problem, really? It was not that what Michael did was unforgivable because it wasn’t. Some distant part of her, too quiet to break through the noise of her anger, always wondered if there was more to the story, believed that he had to have had some reason. But she was too angry to allow him to explain. It just became vicious ammunition that no one could ever love her or care about her… that she was the problem. 

Well, that’s true… no one’s ever loved you. And everyone who does leaves. 

She supposed her mother must have loved her, but she would never know. She would never feel it. And her grandmother’s love was so distant, so long ago, that it no longer felt tangible, was no longer a tether to anchor her self worth to something positive.

Instead, the only thing that tethered her sense of self worth to anything was her family’s disdain. Disdain that made her question what Michael could’ve seen in her, how he could ever love someone like her? That disdain which made it far easier to believe that what he did was proof that he did not love her than that he possibly did do it to protect her in some weird way. No other thought could live long enough in her brain to take hold. 

And she did not know if doing what Tiffany suggested would fix that. There was not enough time in the world for her muster the courage to interrogate and confront the source of these feelings. She had hoped she would never have to see her family again. Some days, never felt like too soon.

But she knew she could not avoid it. They were the root cause, the narrative in her head was fueled and sustained by them. And screaming at them across the Thanksgiving table and never speaking to them again was not the closure she needed. She thought she had dropped the weight that was her family when she cut them off. But she was still dragging all the luggage they gave her around and it was time to give it back. 

She knew her family did not want to see her either, knew it would be difficult to get them to even speak to her after everything. But she knew she had to try… because she knew there had to be more to life than this. That she had not been born to only suffer through life instead of live it. So she needed to confront her demons for herself, even if her relationship with them did not change one bit.  

She grabbed her computer and her wallet. It was time to go home.

***

Raven’s eyes remained trained on her dad’s house across the street as she sat in her rental car. She was almost shocked that none of her family’s nosy neighbors had not called the police yet as she sat there for nearly an hour, summoning the courage to actually go inside. 

She had felt so sure this was what she needed when she bought her plane ticket. And that confidence did not waver when she stepped onto the plane or during the long journey from LAX to Charlotte, NC. However, once she was in her rental car, she found herself waffling, aimlessly driving around for hours. Her brain seemed unable to direct her to the place she knew she needed to go. Home. 

She just could not make herself do it… not yet anyway. So she did not. Instead, she finally went to her hotel to try to get some rest and her night’s rest turned into the entire Friday holed up in her hotel. She had not booked a return ticket, prayerful and hopeful that there would be a reason to stick around for a few days. But that also meant she did not have the incentive of time to make her move faster. 

But she could not even make herself do this. Because she did not know how to be brave like this. Her life had been nothing but running from pain and confrontation. This was so contrary to that. She did not know how to do any of this. She tossed and turned all night, unable to get any sleep particularly when there was only one person who she wanted to talk to, wanted to seek courage and strength from. Because when she felt scared, when she did not feel strong, he was the only person she wanted to reach for. But she was not sure he would even answer. She had pushed him away, told him she needed space. 

But she had not felt like she could do this alone. So last night, she called him. 

“Rae! Everything ok?” he asked immediately, his question met with silence. 

Raven did not know what to say and regret filled her like ice water in her veins. But she knew it was too late to hang up, she had to see it through. She paid for that moment of weakness when she hit the call button as her throat closed at the sound of her voice. She found it impossible to speak, even if she knew what words to say.  

“I’ll wait until you’re ready, Rae. Got all night for you.” 

And she knew he was not just talking about waiting for her to speak. 

“Why?” she whispered, the simple word coming out in a strangled sound as she tried to push past the tightness in her throat. 

“Why what?” 

“Why even answer after everything I said to you? W-why do you keep trying?” 

“Because I love you,” he answered simply. “And you’re worth it. I’ll keep reaching out, baby girl. Even when you swat me away.” 

“You might be the only person who thinks that,” she whispered back as a tear fell. 

“I don’t think that’s true. But even if it was, knowing one person is in your corner is all you need sometimes.”

She laughed lightly. “That press tour got you only speaking in motivational boxing terms or something?” 

His deep laughter filled her ears and filled her soul with such joy that she had forgotten. She had forgotten what these moments felt like, the two of them on the phone or curled up together in bed, just talking. She missed it… she missed him. But she could not say it, could not bring herself to pull her body out of the water to make that long trek back up the cliff to where he waited for her. Everything in her brain screamed at her that she couldn’t do it, that she did not have it in her. And she hated herself for it. Hated how she clung to the ice barriers around her heart, even though they were utterly fractured and ready to fall. She just was not ready yet. 

She let out a shuddering breath as she hastily wiped away her falling tears. “I… don’t know why I called. I s-shouldn’t have called.”

“Call me anytime, Rae. I’ll always answer. I’ll always show up for you. I hope you know that… at least.” 

“Y-Yea… I think I do… or at least, it’s getting harder to deny it,” she revealed. “Your interview with Oprah… it was really good,” she offered lamely. 

“You watched??” she could hear the surprise in his voice. 

“Yea… I almost didn’t,” she admitted. “But I caught most of it. Did you mean it? Everything you said?” 

“Every single word.” There was no arguing with the definitive tone in his voice. “I get that you don’t trust me anymore. I lied and kept secrets. But one thing I never lied about is how much I love you.”  

Her eyes clenched shut for a moment. That was one thing he had always been consistent about, her ears had just been perpetually shut to it. 

“I… um… I gotta go. Early day tomorrow,” she lied as she sniffled. “I’m sorry for bothering you. Bye, Michael.” 

She was not sure what she had expected to get from that call and, at first, it felt as if she only got a firm kick in the heart for it. But for the first time since she landed, Raven had enough strength to finally drive to her family’s house. She had rolled her eyes at his boxing motivational quotes but hearing someone say they were in her corner, that had given her courage. To just feel like someone was behind her, even if she was alone, that meant something to her. 

She took a deep breath and got out of her car, forcing her legs to carry her to the front door. 

Her rounds of knocks went unanswered, Raven getting slightly frustrated but determined not to leave the porch. If she turned around and walked away, she’d never come back. 

After an extremely brief internal debate, she decided to simply let herself in, deciding that since she contributed to the mortgage, she had a right to come in as she pleased. And her father still, foolishly, kept a spare key underneath the welcome mat.

Though she had not been to her family’s home in two years or so, it still looked the same. Her father’s favorite work boots were thrown haphazardly at the door, several pairs of her sister’s shoes lined up next to them. She was an utter mess but she was, at least, somewhat neat. And it still felt… cold. And it had nothing to do with the cold winter east coast weather. The house had always felt like that, void of warmth and love that made a home a home. 

“Kiara?” she called out. “Dad?” However, she was met with utter silence. 

Part of her supposed she was thankful they were not home and that they had not just ignored her or something. She stood in the living room, staring around the room at the pictures that lined the walls and shelves. So many of her mom, her dad, and Kiara but there were none of her. That was not a surprise, it had always been that way. But that did not make it sting any less. All they had ever wanted was to erase her from their lives and if a stranger walked into this house, it would be as if she never existed.

She started up the stairs, her eyes refusing to linger long on any of the photos there. They were all lies anyway, a picture perfect family that did not exist because she had been born. She decided to ascend to the attic once she made it upstairs. Because that was where all her grandmother’s and some of her own things now lived. She had never really gone through her grandmother’s things after she passed, no one aside from her dad to pack them up. But she knew there was so much of their lives, so many memories she had forgotten of the one person who loved her, forgotten in those boxes that she now desperately needed to remember. 

She ignored how narrow the opening to the attic was, realizing that it had been easier to maneuver up here when she was a young teenager. Everything was still neatly packed away as if her grandmother would be back one day to pick it up. 

She started to open each box, pulling out and examining her grandmother’s things, so many beautiful things forgotten in this attic no one went into. For the first time in nearly two decades, she felt close to the only maternal figure she had ever had, felt like her grandmother’s hand was on her shoulder as she reminisced on their short but well-lived time together. 

She found the old costume jewelry her grandmother used to let her play with, laughing to herself as she thought back to dressing up in front of her vanity mirror pretending to be a model or whatever silly idea the pair had thought up. She almost cried as she found a very crumpled piece of paper with the last story she gave her grandmother to read before she died, a random short story that she had written for class. She had not realized, as she found a folder, just how many of her stories her grandmother had kept. 

A gold glint caught her attention, Raven reaching into a giant box to find a shoe box. Raven had seen that box 100 times but her grandmother had never let her touch it, claiming that it held priceless family heirlooms that she did not want Raven or Kiara to mess up. Raven rolled her eyes that something her grandmother had valued so much had been discarded and forgotten haphazardly at the bottom of this box. 

Finally giving into her childhood curiosity, she opened it. It was still filled with things, part of her thankful that Kiara had never found it. The jewelry and pieces in it were gorgeous and indeed priceless. She took her time as she examined each one, wondering if they had belonged to her mother or her grandmother or some other relative she never met. However, it was what existed underneath the jewelry that caught her eye: piles of tied up envelopes, one with her name on it and one with Kiara’s. 

The handwriting was not her grandmother’s, which made Raven even more curious. 

She pulled out the stack with her name on it and undid the thin ribbon that tied them together. There were ten letters there in total, each one with a different note scribbled on the envelope. 

To Raven on your 18th birthday 

To Raven on high school graduation 

To Raven after your first love 

To Raven after your first heartbreak

To Raven on college graduation 

To Raven on your wedding day 

She only had to flip through a few of them to realize who they were from. Her mom. 

“You’re killing me,” she muttered to the sky, unsure if she was speaking to God, her grandmother, her mother or all three. 

Her hands trembled slightly as she ripped open the one on top, addressed to her on her 18th birthday. These were some of the only words her mother would get to say to her, she did not care how long ago she should have read it. She would savor each one. 

To my sweet darling girl, 

If you are reading this, it means that I am not physically there with you on your birthday. It means that I’ve missed 18 birthdays and too many milestones to write a letter for and for that, I am sorry. You might be wondering why there is not a letter for all those milestones and birthdays that have taken place but this felt like the best place to start and the appropriate age for reading the musings of a dying woman. If there’s even such a thing.

We learned your gender today. Another sweet girl. If the doctor somehow got it wrong, these letters will be incredibly awkward. But I know they are right. Because you, my darling girl, are the manifestation of my wildest dreams. I dreamed of you almost a year ago, this beautiful girl with half my face but all of my spirit and personality. And every night since then, I prayed, begged God to make that dream a reality… no matter the cost. And he did. 

I know my body is not strong enough to be your mother, to be around to be the mother someone as brilliant as you will deserve. But I hope you know that deciding to have you and keep you, regardless of the risks, is the single greatest decision I ever made. You were not an accident or a misfortune given to me. You are my dreams. And if my last moments on this earth are spent looking at you, it will have been worth it. 

I waited until 18 to start these letters because I worried a child could never understand the choice I made. And you may still not. And if you resent me for leaving you before you could know me, I understand that too. But I hope that through these letters, you will get to know me. And you will feel some semblance of the immense love I have for you. 

I don’t have much advice because you’ve likely heard it all at this point. But the two most important things I can tell you, that I wish someone had told 18 year old me, is to know that failure is part of the journey. Your grandmother used to always tell me to keep reaching out your hand even if it doesn’t work. I didn’t really understand it soon enough but I hope you do. Life is about risks and if you don’t reach out your hand out of fear, you’ll protect yourself from pain but you will also miss out on the gifts God is trying to hand you. As a daughter, I hated to admit it, but mama was right about that… and so many other things. 

And finally, more importantly than anything else I could offer you in these letters, please remember every day that you are so, so loved. 

Know that regardless of what happened to me, I loved you with every fiber of my being until my last breath. Know that you were a gift from God. And every day you venture out into this world, know that you are worthy of so much because you were so loved from the moment you were dreamed up. Do not let anyone or whatever will happen to you in what I pray is a long, rich, happy life diminish that light, diminish your worth. I know how special you are and I don’t even know your name yet. And while I hope that your father and grandmother will affirm you daily, you don’t need other people to tell you that you are special. You have to know it for yourself. That’s the most important advice I can give you. Know who you are and your worth and take up as much space in this world as you want. And as long as you never forget how special you are… how deserving you are, you’ll move through this world shining bright. And the world will be forced to know it too and move to give you what you deserve. It’s not much and a bit cliche perhaps but I’ve been torn down enough to know that sometimes we all need the reminder. But those are stories for another letter. 

By the time I write my next letter, I promise I will have picked out a name for you. I read a book the other day where the main character was named Raven… I had not thought of it before but I like it. 

Happy Birthday. 

Love, 

Mom

The river of tears streaming down Raven’s face splashed against the slanted handwriting on the page, Raven quickly whisking them away so the words would remain legible. Raven did not even know how long she sat there staring at the words on the page, her heart bursting with the knowledge that her mother’s hand had touched this very paper, that she had poured her heart and soul into every word etched into it. 

It was like proof she had been real and not this entity Raven had conjured up in her head. Raven could not stop herself from ripping open all the ones that she should have gotten along the way. The one for her first love and the separate one on heartbreak were four pages each, and Raven did not pay attention to the clock as she absorbed each and every word. 

Everything she had learned about her mother had been through her grandmother and she had always wondered if her grandmother told her things just to make her feel better. But she realized that her grandmother had been telling the truth, she and her mother were so much alike. She found herself nodding and laughing along to her mother’s stories and wisdom embedded in all those pages. She was a prolific storyteller too and an amazing writer, another trait Raven realized she must have inherited from her.

For the first time in 30 years, Raven did not feel weighed down by this unbearable guilt. She felt lighter than she had ever been in her entire life. Perhaps this was what God wanted her to find here, not a confrontation with her family, but these words. This tangible proof that her mother had chosen her, wanted her… loved her and that she had not ruined anything at all. 

Her mother would not have wanted her to carry such guilt around for so long because there was nothing to be guilty about. 

The letters were scattered across the attic floor when she heard the faint sound of their garage opening. She quickly folded up all of her letters and stuffed them back into the box, tucking it under her arm as she climbed out of the attic. She did not make much noise as she closed up the attic, just as she heard her father and sister close the garage door and enter the kitchen. 

Their voices drifted up to her ears as she started to climb down the stairs, deciding that she might as well get the pure unpleasantness of this moment over with. 

“Wait… you hear that? Is someone in the house??” she heard her sister ask, knowing that they both could hear her footsteps against the old floorboards. 

“Don’t get your gun,” she called out as she started down the stairs. “It’s just me.” 

She was greeted with less-than-welcoming expressions from her family, such disdain that it made her want to scurry away. But she did not. She had done enough of that in her life.

“Adding breaking and entering to your criminal activity, now?” 

Raven scoffed as she placed the box on the kitchen counter that stood between her and her family. 

“Don’t think you can break into a house you helped pay for?” she answered coolly. “And I’m not the one with a mug shot here if I remember correctly.” 

“No you’re just the one who sold her cheap ass for a quick buck.” 

Raven shook her head, opening and closing her mouth for a few moments as she tried to find the words. 

“Yea I did… And I’m not proud of it,” Raven admitted. “But I won’t let you or anyone shame me for doing what I needed to do to survive. What helped the two of you survive too.” Raven scratched her head, realizing that trying to get closure from her family was unnecessary. Her mother’s words had given her all the closure she had ever needed. That’s what she had come home for. 

“You know, I got a plane ready to rip you both a new one for 30 years of abuse and torture. To try to force you to admit that I’m not the villain you made me to be. But… I don’t need that anymore. Because the cross of guilt and shame you two forced onto my back for all these years isn’t one I should have to carry. But I did because I thought it was the only way to keep you two around. And even without you two in my life, I still drag that cross around because I thought I deserved it. But I realized today, way too late, that I don’t need a damn thing from either of you to put it down.” 

“So you came here to what? To chastise us and steal?” her father asked, gesturing toward the box on the counter. 

“You can’t steal things that belong to you. These are letters mom wrote to me,” she lifted the open letters out before sliding the unopened pile to her sister. “And to you.” 

“Your mother wrote these?” he asked, his jaw tensing as he looked down at the stack. 

“Yeah, she did. You’ll enjoy yours… she was a really good storyteller,” she glanced at Kiara. “These letters just told me something I should’ve realized long before Thanksgiving. That cross? That guilt? It isn’t mine. And I am done wasting my life trying to rectify the mistake of being born. Because it wasn’t a mistake. She chose me… prayed for a second daughter knowing the cost and she decided it was worth it. And hearing her say that? That’s all I need to know that I deserve so much more than this… so much more than you.” She took a deep breath. “Being a grieving husband isn’t an excuse to be a terrible father and I’ll just be grateful I found some way to survive you and this. And jealousy doesn’t give you the right to be a shitty sister.” 

“What the fuck do I have to be jealous of??” 

“I always wondered that. But reading those letters… I finally got it. Because even as a failed author and prostitute, I’m everything she was. Grandma used to always say I had her personality… her talent. I always thought she was lying to make me feel better. But you knew she wasn’t and you could never stand it. Couldn’t stand that I was more like her than you.” For the first time, her sister was speechless. A good look on her in Raven’s opinion. “Mom wanted so much better for me than this and I’m gonna go and find it. Because I’ve wasted too much energy trying to earn the love of people who don’t deserve it. So if you want to go to your graves hating me, making me the scapegoat for every problem in your miserable lives, have at it. But know that I don’t hate you even after all this. I won’t be weighed down anymore by any feelings toward either of you ever again. You aren’t worth it.”

Raven pulled herself to full height and rolled her shoulder back as she scooped up the box and folder she had taken from her grandmother’s stuff. 

“Now I’m gonna go and have that long… rich and happy life mom wanted for me. And I hope you two do the same.” 

She did not look behind her as she walked away, a soft smile on her face as she walked out of her family’s house for the last time.

She let out a long laugh as she sat in her car, so much of the weight she had been carrying around gone. It did not feel sad like when she cut off her family at Thanksgiving. She finally felt as if she had cut the anchor away and she could float away, she could move forward and heal all the broken pieces of herself that they had gleefully chipped away at. 

When she got back to her hotel room, she just kept rereading her mom’s words. She would memorize each letter at this point. A part of her desperately wanted to open the other ones but she had not reached those milestones just yet so she left them where they were. For some reason, she worried her mother would disapprove of her breaking into them early. 

One line of five letters she read and reread stuck to her bones above all else. And of course, as if her mother had known, it was embedded in the letter for her first love. Love… the thing that had cracked her wide open and brought her to this moment in the first place.

You’d be surprised to know that this was the hardest of the letters to write. Because everyone has some prolific idea of what love is and feels like. And I realized I don’t… because I don’t think I’ve ever experienced the love I pray you are as you read this. That’s not to say I don’t love your father, I do. But I want something different than convenience for you. I hope that the love you feel is safe, allows you to feel the full spectrum of what it means to be human - strong and vulnerable, insecure and confident, boisterous and timid. I hope it feels like stepping out of the cold air and into a warm embrace. I hope it is loud and unapologetic because you deserve nothing less. And I hope it makes you feel so enraptured that everything else in the world goes quiet. And lastly, I hope, more than anything, that it feels like home. That when you’re in this person’s embrace, you feel as if your soul finally landed right where it is supposed to be. 

Her eyes scanned that passage over and over again, realizing that she had found the exact love her mother described. She had come back here thinking she was coming home. But this wasn’t home at all. Home was where he was. And he was back in LA, about to prepare for the biggest night of his life in 24 hours. And regardless of whatever trust needed to be rebuilt and conversations needed to be had, she could not allow herself to miss it. She could not allow herself to not show up for him.

Raven scrambled to find her phone as it was hidden beneath sheets of paper. She scrolled through, praying she had not deleted a long forgotten group thread that housed one number she had once thought she would never need but now was the most important phone number in the world. 

She almost shouted praises to God when she found it, clicking the call button on the unsaved number. She paced up and down beside her bed as every agonizing ring dragged on. 

“Didn’t think I’d see your name pop up on my phone ever again.” 

Raven let out a sigh of relief as her voice filled her ears. “I know… me either. But I need a favor.” 

“Does it involve a certain award show tomorrow night?” 

“Yes. Is it too late?” 

“Yea it is.” she knew Alex could hear the tiny sigh of sadness she let out. “For anyone but me. I’ve earned enough favors around here to create a miracle or two.”

“Really?? Cause I need like more than one or two miracles… a dress, hair, makeup… hell a flight from Charlotte to make it back in time. Without him knowing?”

“Consider all of it done. Hope you don’t mind getting up at the ass crack of dawn though.” Alex asked, Raven hearing the smile in her tone. 

“For him… I’ll get up anytime.” 

“Good. Then I'll take care of everything... I'll have to tell his mom but she'll love this. And probably be happy as hell that she doesn't have to go anymore. I'll text you details in an hour."

"An hour?? That's all you need??"

"You're new here so I'm gonna choose to not be offended by that."  

"Noted." She was about to hang up when she stopped herself. “Hey… Alex? Thank you.” 

“Don’t mention it. Seriously. Just make sure your ass is on that plane and in LAX tomorrow when Allen picks you up, got it?” 

Raven chuckled. “Yea I got it. See you tomorrow.”

Tag List: @readinghere2023 @blackerthings @prettyisasprettydoes1306 @physicxal @purplehairgawdess @miyuhpapayuh @rueruesclues @geemamii @certifiedlesbianbaddie @pipsqueak-98 @nyifly22 @destinio1 @twocentaur @gopaperless @musicisme333 @roguekiki @majesticbrownjawn @taurusqueen83 @mysteryuz @miamormilan @itsknor-thedeep @naj-ay444 @mads-grace4 @nayaesworld @kholdkill @msniaimani @nccu-rnc @apenasumlug4r @dezzy154

***

A/N: So now will y'all stop yelling at me LOLOL our good sis is going back to her man! We love to see it! How surprised do we think Michael's going to be? Part 11.2 will be the Oscars! Drop a comment and let me know what you thought! And as always, thanks for reading!

[bright-and-burning]

nearly 800 words of norrussell-y stuff based on this post. idk if it's going anywhere so im posting it as is :)

Lando’s tried a lot of things, alright. He’s pulled out all the stops. Gone through all his tricks, and then some.

Last time, the young couple trying to make a home out of Lando’s home left after just a few slammed doors and a shattered plate. The time before that, it took nothing more than cold drafts and some banging on the radiators.

He’s not bad at haunting. He’s quite decent, really. Manages to get long stretches where he’s unbothered, which always has Charles in a huff at their quarterly meetings. He didn’t have to pick a flat in a tiny country with a very expensive housing crisis. Not Lando’s problem there’s constant demand in Monaco even for units with a nasty habit of seeping blood from the walls.

Either way. Nobody’s stayed in his home for longer than six months.

This dickhead’s getting pretty close, though.

He’s fucking infuriating, is the thing. Lando likes haunting. He has fun, snickering gleefully into the sleeve of his hoodie as whatever soon-to-be-former resident he’s fucking with packs frantically to move out.

It’s no fun when they won’t play his game.

George Russell is an accountant. Or a barrister. Or something equally boring and stuffy and un-fun that has him leaving every morning at 7:30 sharp in a nicely pressed suit with a leather bag just dinged up enough to be classy.

Even worse, he’s logical. To a fault. Hangs onto pragmatism like it’s going out of style.

Like he doesn’t keep his kindle stocked with fantasy novels. Lando had peeked. Couldn’t touch it, what with it only having been here a few months, not belonging to the house yet, but he hadn’t needed to. Not when George had set down the tablet to pour a glass of wine and left it face up on the coffee table.

Likes his fiction full of magic and romance and fucking dragons, but God forbid the guy consider for even a moment that he’s being haunted.

Icy cold air filling the hall in late July? Oh, freezer must be on the fritz.

Picture frames falling off the walls? The landlord had said not to use nails on the plaster.

Cupboard doors slamming open and closed at night? Loose hinges. Really, really, really loose hinges. And that pesky draft from earlier. 

Lando’s honestly not sure how that explanation could pass even a little bit of inspection, but George is satisfied.

He’d gotten all new furniture too, so Lando can’t even flop face down on the couch and groan about it for another month. He just goes through, when he tries. Ends up hanging out with the dust bunnies underneath; it’s nice enough down there, dark and enclosed, that he hasn’t stopped launching himself onto the sofa when he’s frustrated. 

He’s under the couch a lot. The dust bunnies have names now.

Lando’s started slamming doors in George’s face, just to see what’ll happen. He’s careful about it, timing it so George won’t actually get hit, but he makes sure it’s close. Maybe if the rush of air ruffles his hair enough, he’ll put the clues together.

Charles has started dropping unsubtle hints about how fast tenants leave when blood pours out of the faucets.

It would work, maybe. Or maybe George would call municipal services, concerned about contamination with the local reservoir and the quality of drinking water in his community. 

It’s not Lando’s style, anyways. Bloody handprints across the ceiling just isn’t as funny as waving his hands around to draw a fluffy dog’s eyes to an eerily empty corner. Takes a lot more concentration to float up high enough to reach, for one. And he likes dogs. They can see him; sometimes, he can even touch them, running his hands through fur and reveling in the warmth of life against his skin.

George doesn’t have any dogs. Or cats. Or fish, even, though Lando’s not sure how he’d get them to behave oddly enough to draw attention. He’s certainly not touching them.

George’s got nothing but his stupid fucking scientific explanations, apparently. Lando’s sick to death of it. Sick beyond death. Whatever.

He sends the door flying shut, centimeters away from sending the dirty dishes George was taking into the kitchen crashing to the floor with it. It's the closest he's cut it, so far.

When Lando sticks his head through the wall to see if he’s finally come to his senses, he’s already reaching for the doorknob, muttering about pressure differentials and open windows.

Lando goes and lays under the couch. His scream is muffled by the carpet.

Not that George would hear anything but a faulty radiator.

[seabeck]

So to recap this past week:

Septic tank had to have an emergency pump job done

The outflow pipe was clogged because of this

A valve thingy on the sink got loose and water from the sink (the side of it dedicated to holding dirty dishes) was dripping out. Luckily there was an empty bucket like container there which caught most of it. Unluckily the water smelled worse than maceration water

Roommate crashed her car at midnight on the way to pick up my brother and my dog from the docks (he was squid fishing, caught nothing)

Roommates gets a new wheel (not tire, wheel) just to find out their car needs 2k worth of repairs done to the front (they were lucky to make it to the shop apparently)

I had a piece of contact lens stuck in my eye that caused it to swell up horribly

Clog was fixed but then not fixed! Plumber had to open the access pipe which spilled gallons of nasty water across the yard (to be expected but no chickens are allowed outside today).

Boyfriends dryer caught on fire as he was going to bed. His landlord replaced it thankfully and nothing was permanently ruined but now his apartment smells like smoke and he’s worried about it happening again.

Maybe cutting down an ash tree is bad luck after all.

[bethanydelleman]

I'm listening to Emma as my falling-asleep audiobook right now and I'm thinking a lot about Harriet. The movie adaptations very often have her remaining friends with Emma after the end, but the book says their relationship sank into mere acquaintances after that. Is that a personality thing, do you think, or is it a class thing? And why the difference in the adaptations? I have my own thoughts but I'd like to hear yours.

It is definitely a class thing.

I think one of the reasons Emma can be unpalatable to modern audiences is because it ends with a restoration of a social order that we find repulsive today. How is it fair that Jane Fairfax, born as lower gentry, gets to marry into Enscombe but Harriet Smith, the natural daughter of a tradesman, 'deserves' only Robert Martin and is basically ejected from membership in Highbury's gentry class? And that's a good thing? The adaptations maintain the Emma and Harriet friendship because the way the book ends really appalls a lot of modern readers.

(Also, never really talking about the age difference between Emma and Knightley was a great choice in Emma 2020 because that is not people's favourite either.)

I think the most charitable way to look at it is that Harriet always wanted Robert Martin. She loved staying there over the summer, the family was extremely kind and loving towards her, and her status as a natural child would be largely ignored. Emma's interference gave her ideas above her station... ug, veering into territory I don't love again... but then again, could Harriet have ever succeeded at marrying into the gentry? Probably not on Emma's sponsorship.

There are only two characters that a member of the gentry tries to move from "middle class" (I know it's not really the middle class) to gentry, George Wickham and Harriet Smith. Both attempts are disasters. Captain Wentworth, Fanny/William Price, and Jane Fairfax are all born into the lower gentry and they climb higher, which seems to be fine. There are a bunch of characters who go from extremely wealthy trade to gentry, the Jennings (Mrs. Jennings, Lady Middleton, and Charlotte Palmer) and the Bingleys. They seem to be fine, Charles Bingley at least is portrayed positively.

I don't know what the message is there. The Gardiners are presented as gentleman-like but have no apparent intentions of jumping class. Does that make them good? As someone raised in Canada whose worldview is rooted in The American Dream Lite, it's hard for me to appreciate the upholding of a classist system. Jane Austen herself was clinging to gentry status by her fingernails, so why does she write a novel that glorifies almost everyone staying exactly where birth placed them? Jane Fairfax can improve herself and be worthy of a rich marriage but not Harriet? I guess Harriet never improves herself much though, but she hasn't had the same opportunities as Jane F...

But then the very next novel, Persuasion, seems very anti-classist!

Something about hubris...

I actually feel sorry for Emma at the end of the book. She got a husband, sure, but she loses a friend. She has Mrs. Weston still, but she'll be busy with her baby, she loses Harriet, Jane Fairfax is gone (again), and she's still stuck in Highbury, which has become worse because Mrs. Elton is there now. She just remains as much trapped and limited as she was before...

Anyway, that is my long and rambling answer. I'm not very happy with the ending of Emma. If someone who does like it wants to defend, you are more than welcome.

(I do think there might be something to like, this is how the class system could work well if everyone actually did their jobs. Knightley is the perfect, model landlord. Cares for the poor, lives at his estate, involved in running it etc. Emma does her duty to the poor, everyone seems to do well under their United management)

[murfpersonalblog]

I have been thinking about Louis and him being a vampire capitalist means he has to stay connected with humanity. To know art and reality trends means he cannot sever his ties.

I love this @deepalienstudentshepherd.

It really gets to the spindly roots of Louis' unique approach to vampirism, through his approach to what being human is or even means & works--for him.

"Him being a vampire capitalist means he has to stay connected with humanity."

And this is why I roll my eyes when Lestat talks, cuz he swears that vampires are oh-so-removed from humanity, and so above worldly attachments--oh, look at those silly mortals, all they ever think about is Food, Sex & Home. As if Lestat isn't the walking talking incarnation of hedonistic hyperfixations on Food ("and then there was the food"--the MEAT); and Sex ("we can have an orgy; you can F**K them, I can EAT them~!"); and Home ("I am your family, Louis").

Either as a capitalist, artist, butcher, baker, candlestick-maker--or ROCK STAR--vampires doing anything humans do (and passing as humans) naturally requires staying connected with humanity. You have to KNOW your audience; know what makes them tick. We always clown on companies being out of touch, cuz if no one's buying you ain't selling!

"To know art and reality trends means he cannot sever his ties."

And what's sad is that Louis experimented with art via photography, cuz it called to him, and he does have an eye for it--Louis is, after all, very fashionable & stylish; we see it in Ep1 when he gives Lestat a makeover & helps furbish the townhouse & design Claudia's bedroom & dress her; "it's chiffon, it has movement~!" But at the end of the day, Louis realizes & has to accept that he's NOT an artist; that's not his calling. He doesn't have the patience for photography, and what's worse; he can't connect with human muses if he himself cannot be around humans when they're living their DAY-to-DAY lives--cuz he's a nocturnal vampire. (TBH I'd love to see him take another crack at it with modern technology; around modern nightlife.)

But you know what Louis IS good at? What he's always had a real knack for? And what he's much smarter & savvier about? BUSINESS.

The unique thing about Louis is that unlike so many of AR's Old World vampires, who either lived during antiquity (Akasha, the Twins, Seth, Cyril, Teskhamen, Marius, Pandora, Mael, etc), or frikkin ye olde medieval/rennaisance times (Thorne, Armand, Gabrielle, Lestat, Nikki); Louis is a MODERN vampire. book!Louis was born in France and came to the Americas as a colonizer, but AMC!Lou was BORN in the New World. Like anyone, Louis is a product of his environment; and that shapes what drives & motivates him; as his vampirism/capitalism is all wrapped up in how he existed as a human.

The DPDLs lived lavishly in their mansion--land that used to be a slaveowning sugar plantation--waited on by Black servants; giving hefty donations to the biggest White church (vehicles of imperialism & colonialism--"Gold, God, and Glory"); gaining who knows how much money that had been seeded and fertilized by nothing but the exploitation of Black men & women--slavery & prostitution both.

Louis' character is defined by his vampirism--even before he's ever made a vampire. Vampires are predacious parasitical leeches. They are voracious insatiable carnivorous bottomless pits that just eateateat; consuming but never being fulfilled--Hungry Ghosts.

Of course Louis would be attracted to real estate (HOMES); since buying, selling & developing property is in his French White ancestors' colonial settler drug-addicting sugar-growing plantation-owning blood (FOOD). When his father up & died and Lou inherited the DPDL estate, Louis HAD to learn how to successfully run land & shops & people; so he could keep his bougie AF family afloat.

When he ran Storyville, he owned multiple businesses, not just brothels, and was apparently a very good landlord. (Ironically, we also know how quick Louis is to evict a mofo & take their deed--just ask Antoinette, Lestat & Armand! XD) Of course Louis would turn from making art to selling art as an art dealer--Louis is fashionable, and he knows what people like, even if he himself can't produce or even mimic it (like Santiago, Armand, Marius, & Lestat can). We saw Mr. "Fire Escape" Louis flex his skills with the Alderman's racist lawyer dabbling in effery in 1x3; and when Lou renovated the old-timey Fairplay and made it the slicker hipper & more popular Art Deco-themed Azalea.

Louis built a microcosm of the Savage Garden at the Azalea; a tiny corner of hedonistic paradise (full of "hookers, hooch, and cards"), where men could live out their fantasies (SEX). He inspired Armand to even conceptualize Night Island--as Armand realized he needed a better/another companion to teach him about modernity, technology, treasure-hunting, etc. And together, they lived in the neo-capitalist hellscape of Dubai for who knows how long--I wouldn't be surprised if they had a direct hand in its vampiric development.

Louis' character is also defined by his delusional hypocrisy; always tryna justify his place in the world (and the space he wastes/takes up) by tryna do "good" things, to balance out the evil.

During Jim Crow, so many Black people suffered under socio-economic inequality & oppression--even Black folk lighter-skinned than Lou, as seen with Bricktop, Lily, and even BBass!Claudia; all living in the worst slums of Storyville; deriving not a single drop of privilege/benefits their mixed/white ancestry might've given them in better circumstances; other than the dubious Pretty Privilege that made them sexually exploitable as prostitutes, etc.

book/show!Lou's a HUGE exploiter; not just as a slaveowner/pimp, but also as a father; using Claudia to boost his ego and save his marriage. Lou FAILED at being a father, cuz he couldn't relate/connect to the wants & needs of a growing girl/woman past his own self-centered aims. And Lou FAILED at being an artist, cuz he couldn't relate/connect with the human(ist) soul; and rage-quit cuz of his hurt pride/ego, rather than paying attention to what the art deal was saying (albeit condescendingly).

The one thing Lou took pride in that he was actually good at was his status as a businessman/capitalist--exploiting/relying on middle-men to produce/create things for him to buy & sell at a profit. (His failures as a businessman in NOLA were solely cuz of racist white men & the Ordinances that shut down Storyville.) At the end of the day, know thyself, and capitalize on one's strengths. So that's what he did. And cuz capitalism is evil AF, as a vampire, he's pretty good at it, LOL.

[seramilla]

So in human au after a few months of Emily's puppy eyes, Carmilla's not so subtle reminders that they are always welcome if they need a place to stay, the bills that never go away, the "dates" Carmilla takes Sera on that they don't call dates (Sera wouldn't have agree if Carmilla called it a date), and Sera's own longing to be near Carmilla and have the stable home life for her and Emily. Sera finally decides to take Carmilla up on her offer but not because of that. In one week Sera gets two pieces of bad news one the rent on the basement apartment she and Emily live goes up and she gets let go of her job. Those two things happen at the same time are the straw that breaks the camels back and when she is panicking on what she will do decides to go live with Carmilla. Because it took all of that to get Sera to over come her hyper independence and self deprecation and go ask to take Carmilla up on her offer and asks to move in.

Sera could not possibly be having a worse day if she tried. In some kind of cosmic, chaotic joke, the overseers of the universe had chosen the day she's supposed to move back into her refurbished apartment for two major catastrophic events to occur. She's sure both things are definitely, absolutely illegal, but there is nothing she can do about it. And the more she dwells on it, the more panicked she gets. How is she going to explain all of this to Emily? To Carmilla?

Sera's job had let her go that morning. Even though her performance review not even a few months prior had been perfect, apparently, taking so much time off work to take care of her and Emily's housing situation had broken some unwritten attendance policy. So her job had given her the boot. No warning, no severance; just handed her the pink slip and gave her 10 minutes to gather her things, and shoved her out the door.

Not even 2 hours after she'd returned to Carmilla's house upset, sobbing, and barely able to form a coherent sentence if her life depended on it, she receives an email on her phone. It's the lease agreement from her landlord. Her lease renewal had happened at some point during the entire flood fiasco, so he'd given her a grace period to renew. The only problem is, when she opens the email and reads the actual document, she finds her rent has gone up nearly 50% from what she'd been paying a month ago!

Sera had no knowledge of this. Her landlord had not informed her of a rate increase this drastic. Her rent went up almost every year; she had expected that. But not 50% overnight! She...she can't afford this! Her landlord states in the email that the justification is "long overdue improvements and upgrades to the unit", but Sera had not consented to this! He can't just...it's not right to just...do this to her! She and Emily are supposed to move back in tomorrow! What is she supposed to do now?

The state Carmilla finds her in when she gets home is practically catatonic. Sera is bent forward over the kitchen table, sobbing into the expensive wood, and Carmilla can barely get her to calm down and tell her what the problem is. Rather than try to explain, Sera just hands Carmilla her phone, waiting in silence for the other woman to absorb the meaning of the email on the screen. Once she's finished reading, Sera's lucky Carmilla doesn't break her phone with how hard she's squeezing it.

"Who the FUCK does this Adam guy think he is?! I'm going to skin that fucking bastard alive! I swear to god, I'm going to--!"

Carmilla catches herself from doing something drastic. She hands the phone back to Sera, literally forcing herself not to speak as she paces around the kitchen, stomping here and there. Whereas Sera's reaction to the news had been panic and heartbreak, Carmilla's is straight-up anger and righteous fury. Sera turns her head just enough to see the matriarch holding herself back from doing...something. She opens the fridge, then slams the door shut. Opens a drawer, then slams that shut, too. When there is nothing left to open or slam, Carmilla makes a frustrated RRRRGGGHHH sound under her breath, and plops herself down at the table beside Sera.

Both women just kind of exist in silence for a while, Carmilla trying to actively slow the blood that's pumping hotly through her veins, and Sera still trying to magic up a solution that will somehow solve all her problems.

Eventually, Carmilla looks over at her. Sera is still bent forward with her head buried in her arms on the table. Carmilla reaches over, touching the top of Sera's head softly. Stroking gently. A stark contrast to the way she'd been banging around in the kitchen a few moments before.

"Sera, I'm so sorry," Carmilla says, genuinely at odds with herself over what to say now. "I can't imagine what you're going through. I'm so...angry for you."

"That's not all," Sera says, voice muffled from inside her folded arms. Carmilla's head swivels back around toward her at that news. Sera still can't look her in the eye.

"It's...not?"

"I lost my job, too. They fired me. I have...nothing left, Carmilla."

Sera starts sobbing again just then. Not the pitiful, gross tears she'd been shedding when Carmilla walked in, but a loud, vocal wail. She cries aloud into her arms, just letting the stress and turmoil of the day out of her body in one fell swoop. Her shoulders quake, and her body is wracked and shaking. Carmilla just sits beside her, still stroking her hair, completely failing her dearest friend at all levels because she just doesn't know how to fucking comfort her.

So Carmilla does the only thing she can do. The thing she's been trying to do for weeks; that Sera has just ignored and turned down until now.

"Sera...I know I probably sound like a broken record at this point. And I'm not trying to control you or make your mind up for you. But I really must insist you take me up on my offer to stay here."

Sera lifts her head. Her face is shiny and ugly with tears. She tries to wipe them away with her hands, but uses her sleeves instead. She's still trying to fight against the small hiccups that handicap her speech centers. She looks at Carmilla, and groans.

"Maybe...if I have a few more weeks...I can find a new job...another place--"

"No, I mean permanently!" Carmilla tries not to shout. She takes Sera's hand in hers this time. Squeezes it hard, so that Sera can't ignore this any longer. Can't ignore her.

"Carmilla, you know I can't do that--"

"Why not?" Carmilla demands. She moves to stand, but she's absolutely not kneeling next to Sera in a pleading posture. That would be ridiculous of her.

"You keep saying that, but really, why not? Sera, think about this logically. You've already been living here. All of yours and Emily's things are here! We've already been a family. I can...I can take care of you. You must know how I feel about you--!"

"I know! I know! But I can't--!"

Carmilla is actually kneeling before her now.

"Why not?"

"I'm scared, okay! I've never had to rely on someone else before! I don't--I can't--let anyone else be responsible for Emily's life. I promised my mom and dad I'd take care of her--!"

"You are!" Carmilla insists. She's stroking Sera's cheek now, desperately trying to chase both her tears and fears away. "You've done such a good job with her! But sometimes being responsible is knowing when to ask for help! There's no shame in it! I'm not doing this because I think you can't do it. You've already done so much. I just want...to be selfish sometimes, too, you know? I want you both here with me. With us! Because I love you. I care about you and her!"

The words are out. Carmilla almost can't comprehend that she'd said it, but the words are out.

Sera had always thought big declarations of love only happened in movies. Yet it had just happened, right in front of her face, in a big elaborate kitchen she'd never be able to afford in 10 separate lifetimes. And the woman who she has feelings for in return, but has been too stubborn to act upon, has just laid all her cards out on the table in front of her.

It would be so easy. To just stay here. Be with her. Give Emily what she's always wanted. Sera had always been taught the easy way was not for her. But with no other options left...what is a single guardian with no job and no prospects supposed to do?

Sera sighs. Deep and ragged.

"I...I love you, too, Carmilla. So much. I just think...I don't know what I'm ready for, right now. I don't know how to move forward in a relationship when I'm feeling so low. I've got...so much on my fucking plate."

"That's okay!" Carmilla assures her, pushing her hair back that's fallen into Sera's face. "We don't have...to do anything about that right now. I just need to know that you and Emily are safe. I just want you here with me. We can work out the rest later. Is that okay?"

Yes. Yes, Sera can work with that. She just needs...to take things one step at a time. So she's not overwhelmed. As long as the housing problem isn't an issue...she can work with this. She can figure things out. With Carmilla's help.

So she says the words Carmilla and all three girls have been dying for her to say for the last month. She smiles, wiping the snot and residual tears away with the sleeve of her shirt, and just gives in to what she wants for a change.

"Okay...okay, Carmilla. If you'll have us, we'll stay here with you."

[wilsonfisk-thekingpin]

Exhaustion felt heavy—like someone had draped a wet, weighted blanket over her shoulders and was holding a gun to her head, demanding she keep moving. Sure, there was being tired, but Katherine was exhausted. And she was running out of time. She and her partner had less than an hour to finish setting this scene. Between her language studies, maintaining the appearance of the mayor's daughter, sneaking out at night, and now this job…

Kaya was exhausted.

But the scene was ready to go. Dead bodies didn't bother Kaya; she had grown up with death. It was a part of business, a part of life. With gloves snapped around her small hands, she carefully brushed gunpowder along the hand of the man who had become a recent problem for her father. They wouldn't want the victim to come back clean from their tests, now would they?

It was her finishing touch. She never moved the body if she could help it. It would mess with the mathematical angle of the scene. Something felt off, but she couldn't think of what it could be as she wracked her burnt-out mind. And she had never failed a scene before. Closing her capsule tightly and sliding it into her bag, Kaya exited the apartment, shedding her gloves and shoe protectors while climbing into the waiting car.

Something felt off, but Kaya had never failed her father before—not with this, his work, and his legacy. So, two days later, when it came out the scene was being treated as a homicide instead of a suicide, Kaya could feel the blood in her body turn to ice.

@tapintoyourmagic

"Katherine..." Wilson's voice traveled through the penthouse from the living room. It was low, cold, he never raised his voice at his daughter. The disappointment was there, underlined by concern. Far worse than any anger he could have directed at his child.

He had been waiting for this story to break. The death was a necessary one, it would prove to be beneficial to him and his associates in the long run, if everything had gone according to plan. Much to his dismay, something had gone wrong, it was the only way this investigation could have been conducted as a homicide of all things.

The screen showed a picture of the person who had died, pictures of the outside of the apartment building, the flashing red and blue lights of the first responders. The news reporter talked extensively about what had been found, "This just in, we have breaking news. We are here outside of the Excelsior Apartment Complex, where residence have spent the last two days complaining about a foul smell from the third floor. When the landlord conducted a sweep of the floor, he ended up going into apartment 11-B. Where the body of a man was found. Authorities are not yet sure of what's led to the death of this man. At first glance it appears to be a suicide, but one of the detectives is apparently not so sure. We don't yet have all the details of this investigation, as it is ongoing at the moment, but as soon as we do, we will have an update for all of our viewers at home."

He asked the question, shortly after the news channel cut to commercial. "What did you do?"

[satureja13]

It had started to rain again while the Boys still sojourn in the 'Screaming Mandrake'. And after Ms Coombes ended her speech, it was finally time for dinner! But our little wolverine Jack didn't touch the food. Well, this was a sight to behold ö.Ö He, whose hobby is pizza! Even Ms Coombes, who usually isn't very fond of Jack (she thinks he has a bad influence on her favourite, Vlad ^^'), was baffled. He's just sitting there, absent minded. With a stupid expression on his face...

After dinner, she took him aside. Ms Coombes: "Callahan, what's wrong?" Jack: "Uh, I don't know. I feel weird since the lightning struck me and we crashed in the swamps... That bolt hit me right in the chest." Kiyoshi choked on his bite. Jack felt a bolt in his chest?! ö.ö' Kiyoshi had felt a bolt in his chest when he first saw Jack! And Dtui told him she got hitten by a bolt too - when she first saw her fated mate, Rita (Coombes). Yes, Kiyoshi - but Jack got struck by a lightning bolt...

Ms Coombes sent him up to the Hospital Wing. The Nurse will examine the troublemaker. Ms Coombes: "If you're making this up to skip classes you're dead! And be quiet to not disturb Ji Ho!"

So Jack climbed the stairs all the way up to the tower. He was eager to see Ji Ho and how he was, but he got totally deflected by the sight of Noxee. Who apparantly is the Nurse! ö.ö (Noxee also is the Healer/Nurse in Moonwood Mill. That's how she met Greg. She even was in the same pose as now when he first saw her ^^')

Noxee: "Hey Baby! Come on in. Take your shirt off and let me see." Noxee is Jack's first love and he surely won't take off his shirt in front of her ö.Ö'

Jack shook his head to become clear again - which wasn't easy. Concentrate! He went over to Ji Ho instead, who was sleeping soundly. Ji Ho looked well. That's a relief - they are so worried about him. And apparently he's dreaming of his King :3 Noxee: "I'm positive we can wake him soon. He's doing well. He'll be sore and sensitive when he wakes up, though. So avoid touching or upsetting him. It's all a bit much getting hit by all the feelings he'd buried deep down below to survive." Jack: "Understandable. We only can imagine what he went through, growing up in the Slums of Sulani with his dead brother, next to that Brothel... and his crazy mother and that landlord scum." Noxee: "Ji Ho is strong. And he has his friends by his side, hm? I also heard you're doing a great job with your yoga, meditation and tantra practise. Keep that up. It's going to help him a lot." Jack: "We will. What about his grandfather? He can't influence him - or us through Ji Ho - while we're here, right?" Noxee: "I don't think so. Though - we still don't know what happened in your game. Had Tiny Can created this scenario or did his grandfather find a way into the game? Let's just be cautious and careful."

Eventually they went over to the examination bed and Jack told Noxee the astounding story of how Kiyoshi and him had flewn here with the TukTuk and crashed in the swamps - after they'd been struck by lightning. Jack: "... and now I feel utterly weird. I can literally hear my heart galopping - it also feels as if it's too small for my ribcage! I can't concentrate, my hands are sweating - and the worst of all: I can't eat! My stomach is twisting and turning as if I swallowed a bunch of weasles! Oh, and then the emotional turmoil! Like a rollercoaster! Oh and I can't concentrate ... and I forget stuff. I mean, for the last two issues - that's what I deal with since forever, but now it's even worse.

Noxee made a full check up but she didn't find a physical cause. The stroke of lightning and the crash left no visible marks on Jack. Which is not surprising, since Jack is the Super Soldier, after all. Created by the Council to survive even more severe attacks. Noxee: "I can't find anything. But we also know nearly nothing about what exactly the Council did to you. From what you described I would say you fell in love ^^' But we could ask Greg if he has any ideas?"

Jack: "No! No Greg! And it's not from falling in love. I already fell in love three times: with Lou, Kiyoshi and ... (ups, he can't let Noxee know what he feels for her! That would make things even more awkward between them. She's the partner of his father! ö.ö') ... and ... and it was totally different!"

Noxee mixed him a potion and told him to come back if it didn't get better and Jack left her so she could care for Ji Ho. He went downstairs to their rooms. Ms Coombes told them each three of them would share a room. There is one at the top of the tower, where Kiyoshi, Vlad and Jeb reside. And one at the bottom of the tower. For Saiwa and Jack - and Ji Ho, as soon as he's released from the hospital wing.

Jack went to the tops' room first, to bring Vlad the good news. Jack: "Ohhhh! Bunk beds! I'm going to claim the upper bed in our room!"

Concentrate, Jack! Remember why you are here! Jack sat on Vlad's bed and reassured him. Jack: "Noxee said, they will wake him up soon. He sleeps right above this room. Don't worry, hm?" Kiyoshi and Jeb were happy too to hear the good news about Ji Ho.

They chatted for a while and eventually Jack went downstairs to check their new room and claim his bed. It had been a long, eventful day. Just to find that Skully was there! Skully: "Hey, Buddy!" Jack: "What is he doing here?!" Saiwa: "I found him in your bag when I unpacked our stuff ^^' " Jack sighed. As if getting struck by lightning and being scolded by Ms Coombes weren't bad enough...

From the Beginning 🔱 Underwater Love 🔱 Latest

Current Chapter: 'Here comes the Sun' from the beginning ▶️ here Last Chapter: 'Who killed Jack?' from the beginning ▶️ here

📚 Previous Chapters: Chapters: 1-6 ~ 7-12 ~ 13-16 ~ 17-22 ~ 23-28

[gwenaelle-art]

Hey, I don't like being in this position of begging but I am desperate. For the last 5 years I have been living with physical, mental, verbal and financial abuse from the family I live with. I've been doing my absolute best to get through it all in the hopes of seeing my girlfriends happy and living a peaceful life with some modicum of control for myself. My entire life is trapped inside one single bedroom, one of my girlfriends has been subjected to this same treatment which only makes me feel all the worse with it being my family at fault. Transphobic behaviour also prevents my ability to seek HRT and the financial manipulation only makes everything else all the harder.

My mother manipulates police and housing officials to nullify every legal action I take against this behaviour, I don't understand how but it is apparently possible. She has been lying to the landlord to make them believe she still lives here and because she earns a good wage, it makes rent here all the higher. She refuses to shift utility bills into my (or anybody who lives here) name and so the bills go without government grants and cannot be negotiated without her direct input. We're looking at having our utilities cut within the next 30 days as a result of this.

I have been forced to take in housemates I do not agree with. I have had several stitches from physical abuse, my lip was punctured by my tooth, my nose has been broken and several black eyes. My right shoulder has been damaged and scans show the socket is starting to wear down and nerves are being harmed by the dislocation. I have had several teeth broken and the dental work has been very extensive from this.

These housemates raid my room for whatever they want any time I am out. Cutlery, clothes, electronics, food, drinks, money, furniture, dishes, etc etc.. the list goes on for much too long. To make matters only worse, whenever these housemates *do* pay part of the rent, they only pay 1/2 of what is due.

My housemates aren't listed as tenants of the house but any action I take to my advantage on that, is nullified either by claims that there is not enough proof they live here or my mother getting it ignored. The damage they and their pets have caused to this house is extensive and with only myself and my girlfriend as present tenants, we are losing credit with our housing agency, we may never be able to find a house through them again and they are considering removing us at this time but there is no clear timeline on that.

Police responses to all of these events have been abysmal and I don't have anywhere else to turn than to just get away as fast as I can. I lack the ability to make enough money on my own to outpace the bills and rent but I want to open a savings pool that I will not touch until I can move away.

The plan right now is to keep any money I make extra aside as solely a moving out fund that I will not touch unless it is to go toward a new home. I will move out of this house and since my mother will not remove her name from the, now overdue bills, it will not be my problem. I will be entirely leaving my family behind, restraining orders will be involved and I will finally have the agency over my life I need.

Anyway, all of this is just for me to say, I have a donation pool available through Ko-fi and I do commissions too, so feel free to grab one if you want too. A few examples of my own work are below

https://ko-fi.com/gwenaellemun/goal?g=0

[legobiwan]

Mario and Luigi for the drabble, “When I’m with you, I’m home.”

Thanks!

I realized I'm answering this one out of order. Whoops! Anyway, have some pre-Mushroom Kingdom conversations and lore-building as your author reminisces about the New York of the '90s.

~~~~~~

He wonders, sometimes, what their lives would have looked like if they had never left Brooklyn.

Barring a miracle - pretty bleak, in all honesty. Maybe being here, in the Mushroom Kingdom, was the miracle. He remembers the frenzied few days leading up to their disappearance. The previous few months had been a mess of unpaid bills and awful business decisions governed solely by spite and fear. They were probably a few months of missed rent payments away from eviction. They were definitely two days away from getting their kneecaps bashed in by some loan shark’s goons. 

He and Mario had gone for a walk, all the way down to Coney Island, 75th to Stillwell to Bowery, to the decrepit-looking Wonder Wheel and a depressingly empty Nathan’s Hot Dogs. It looked like the last of the hotels, some once-bright vestige of his mother’s era, had finally been condemned, tall wire fencing curling up towards the grey winter sky, a perfunctory guard which did nothing to keep out the local graffiti artists and homeless population. 

Luigi jammed his hands into his jean pockets, shivering. He couldn’t tell if he was freezing or terrified.

“What are we gonna do, Mario? We can’t stay here. If he doesn’t get us, the landlord will. You see how they’re starting to develop all that stuff around 86th Street. It’s going to travel north and we’re already behind two months in rent. We can’t stay in Bensonhurst.” Luigi sighed, little frozen puffs of air floating from his mouth. “I don’t even know if we can stay in Brooklyn at this rate.”

It was a miracle they weren’t out on the streets already. For once, their landlord’s habit of sitting around with a bottle of Thunderbird watching Honeymooners reruns and screaming at “that bum El Duque” to throw more strikes fell to their advantage. Sure, there was no such thing as maintenance in the dilapidated six-floor walk-up. But they were plumbers, tradesmen - a leaky faucet or misbehaving shower wasn’t going to be an issue.

Unfortunately, they weren’t also exterminators. 

Mario took a large bite of his hotdog, mustard splattering on the gum-stained sidewalk. It looked like something they’d hang in one of those trendy galleries that kept popping up in lower Manhattan, down around Houston Street. 

“We’re gonna be fine, Lou,” Mario said between bites, bits of bun falling from his mouth.

“We’re gonna end up homeless.” Or missing our kneecaps. Or worse.

Mario crammed the last of his dinner in his mouth, finishing off the hot dog with a few loud chews. He gave a contented sigh, licking at his greasy fingers before wiping his hands on his pants. “No, we’re not gonna be homeless. I’ve told you a million times, Lou, we could be in a cardboard box under the Van Wyck. When we’re together - “ Mario slung an arm around Luigi’s shoulder, pulling him in tight. “When I’m with you - I’m home. We’re unbeatable. And that means we’ll make it through this.”

Luigi eyed his brother’s yellow-tinged fingers and stained shirt cuff, hoping the impromptu moment of fraternal affection would pass. He could deal with Mario’s sunny optimism, usually. But living in a studio apartment one step up from a garbage dump had apparently encouraged his brother’s disposition towards a more slovenly existence. They might be home when they were together, but it wouldn’t hurt if Mario took a damn vacuum to himself once in a while. 

“Mario, I think this time - ”

“Oh, I get it.” The warm arm around his shoulder disappeared, his brother’s voice hardening. Luigi snapped his head to the side, his heart rocketing into his throat. What did I say this time?  

“It’s the location, isn’t it?” His brother gave him a searching, serious look. He looks just like Dad. He even seemed as if he were towering over Luigi, just like Dad used to, despite Mario being the shortest of the three of them. “You’d prefer a box under the BQE.”

Luigi gaped. “I - what?”

“Nah, nah, okay,” Mario waved his hands. “Let’s talk location. You wanna be by the Belt? Or maybe - “ A sly smile grew under his brother’s burgeoning mustache. “You want to move to Queens.”

“Oh my God,” Luigi groaned, slapping his forehead with his palm, pulling his hand down over his eyes. I’d move to Jersey if it got us out of this mess. “Mario, be serious.”

“I am serious! Your secret’s safe with me, bro. Even if you would betray Brooklyn like that." Luigi felt two steady hands take him by the biceps. “Besides, we’re gonna be okay.”

“Vinny Razzanti’s uncle said we had forty-eight hours,” Luigi groaned between his fingers.

Mario barked out a laugh. “Vinny Razzanti’s uncle couldn’t tell a pizza from a clock if we arranged the pepperonis the right way. The guy’s a dumbass.”

“Yeah, but he’s - “

“No, I ain’t hearing it.” Mario gently guided Luigi’s hands from his face, keeping his fingers wrapped around either wrist as he brought Luigi’s arms to his sides. “Look at me, Lou.”

Luigi swallowed down the wet desperation clawing its way up his throat, opening his eyes to his brother’s concerned, but steely gaze.

“If he comes, he comes. I’ve got a baseball bat next to the mattress and you can - “ Mario waved one of his arms in a broad gesture. “I dunno. Make some kind of exploding gadget or something. You used to want to show off your stuff to Cooper Union, right? Well, think of this as practice, you know, for the application.”

Luigi gave a small shake of his head. I don’t think home pyrotechnics meant to fend off low-level mafia muscle are going to impress the admissions committee. Not that they were going to waste their time with a twenty-one-year-old plumber’s application, anyway. That dream was long gone, buried in Cypress Hills along with their parents. 

“Here’s what we’re gonna do,” Mario’s voice broke through his dreary ruminations as he guided Luigi towards Bowery Street. “We’re gonna walk home, maybe pick up a cannoli on the way. Then we’re gonna check the answering machine. If we’re lucky - and I’m feeling pretty lucky right now - there will be a call from some lady in Borough Park.” His brother’s eyes gleamed. “No, even better, some widower in Carroll Gardens. One of those nice brownstones. She’s going to ask for our help. Clogged drains, backed up shower, toilet’s kablooey.” Mario made a slobbering sound meant to resemble a backed up toilet. Luigi thought he sounded like a dog on downers. “The whole shebang. We’ll say, of course, we can fix this, but we’ll have to charge the emergency rate. You know, business and all that. Three hours later - maybe four - boom! Vinny Razzanti’s uncle is out of the picture and we’ll be on our way to the good life.”

“You make it sound so simple, bro.” Luigi couldn’t quite contain the bite of sarcasm that accompanied that statement. 

As always, his brother took his waspishness in stride. Long strides, in fact, as they hurried past the metal skeletons that made up the Coney Island Train Yard, the whirr of traffic from the Belt Parkway rushing and thumping above them. Luigi felt like at any moment some old, rusted buckle would give way, sending a line of cabs and buses crashing into their heads.

He felt like that most of the time these days, to be honest. 

“It is simple, Luigi. You just gotta think positive. You never know what’s around the corner.” Mario tugged at his sleeve. “Now, come on. If we walk fast enough, we can get to Villbate’s before they close.”

“Alright, alright, you win, Mario. Something’s around the corner and for once, maybe it won’t be a guy with a baseball bat.” No. It won’t be a bat. It’ll be something worse. Like a flamethrower. Luigi was too tired to argue with his brother’s indomitable optimism. “Maybe we’ll get to your widower in Carroll Gardens and find the answers in her bathroom.”

Mario slapped his brother on the back. “That’s the spirit, Lou! Could be a whole new world waiting for us. Now let’s go - there’s a pistachio cannoli with my name on it and I am not missing out.”

“Hey, the pistachio cannolis are mine!”

“Not if you don’t run fast enough!” Mario gave his brother a playful push, taking off down Stillwell Avenue. Luigi watched his brother leap over a pile of trash bags, skittering between two cabs, one of which blared its horn in anger.

“Where you go, I guess I follow,” Luigi muttered to himself, adjusting his cap before taking off in his brother’s direction. And who knew? Maybe something was waiting for them around that corner.