#landlords always manage to find the worst of em

[dickbaggins]

not my dumbass thinking I can get up for the hvac guy at 8am and then go back to bed cause it’s 10am and no hvac guy

[anotherdayinchuckletown]

They’re Funny That Way, Chapter 1

Hey, guys! How’s it going? I’ve been writing for about ten years now, but this is only the second ever fic I’ve shared anywhere, so I’m super nervous!!!  

This is basically my take on a Harley Quinn origin story tailored to the universe of Joker (2019).  It’s going to be Harley like we’ve never seen her before, with lots of Arthur, lots of Sophie, lots of original characters, and lots of twists and turns.

I’m SO beyond excited to finally share this with you guys, and I hope you all enjoy! Please like, comment, reblog if you do so that I know if you guys love reading this as much as I am enjoying writing it!  This fic is also posted to my AO3 account (https://archiveofourown.org/users/marie_deneuve), so you can also read it there if you’d like!

Without further ado, heeeere we go!!

Chapter 1

 The apartment building at Eleven-Forty Anderson Avenue is an eyesore situated in the midst of a likewise ugly city called Gotham. A pimple on a face only a mother could love. A pariah among pariahs.

Management has long since stopped caring about its maintenance, leaving it a patchwork of leaking ceilings, cracking foundations, and broken windows haphazardly boarded shut. Even the most seasoned resident of Gotham City would quicken his pace when passing the telltale archways which separate the apartments from the rest of the city.

Sophie Dumond is currently doing her best to avoid saying any of that out loud.

“It’s really not that bad,” she lies. “Definitely a far cry from where you’re living now, but once you get used to it, it’s not the worst.” Although she is on the phone, she looks down at her shoes anyway, so as not to look her guilt in the face. A crack in the tile beneath her feet stares back accusingly.

“Really? My brother told me his appliances never work, and the maintenance crew is impossible to reach,” the voice on the other line replies skeptically. It belongs to another young woman by the name of Emma Boulanger – Emma Scott, actually, ever since her marriage – who has been Sophie’s best friend since the two of them met in elementary school. She is also the godmother of Sophie’s five-year-old daughter, which was an unpopular decision she had been made to justify more times than she would have liked (honestly, though, her sister could call her if she ever became less of a pretentious bitch).

This phone call marks the first time Sophie has heard from her in one month, two weeks, and six days. Not that she’s been counting or anything.

It’s just strange not to talk to her, as she’s always the first to know of any big changes in her friend’s life. Emma is certainly the first to know about changes in Sophie’s life as well. She’s there when they both open up their letters of acceptance into Gotham University, whooping and cheering and dreaming of finally, finally leaving this shithole, getting glamorous jobs in the big city. She’s there when Sophie is curled up on her bathroom floor, crying and clutching a positive pregnancy test, wanting the best for the child growing inside of her, yet fearing she would never be able to provide it.

That’s why it’s so odd when Emma’s twin brother is the one to mention in the hallway one day that his sister has filed for divorce. And furthermore, that she’s returning to Gotham to live with him until she gets back on her feet.

“Like I said, Emma, it’s not perfect,” she relents. “But hey, at least it’ll be nice to hang out again. It’s been way too long.”

“Yeah, it really has! I moved, what, almost two years ago?” Emma’s voice brightens marginally, and Sophie can nearly see the lopsided grin spreading across her face, so familiar is she with every tic, every tell, every minuscule inflection to her words. “Metropolis is boring as hell, by the way. I almost miss Gotham - call me crazy.”

Sophie huffs, knowing full well that Emma is playing it cool - trying not to let on how much she dreads moving back to a city she called a living, breathing prison for so many years. Best to keep things lighthearted then. Empathize with her, acknowledge her feelings, but never, never pity her. “You’re definitely crazy, Em,” she shoots back, raising an eyebrow. “What exactly does it for you, the enormous rats or the graffiti dicks?”

An almost imperceptible chuckle filters through the receiver. “Well, no one ever really escapes Gotham, do they? I figure I might as well develop a little Stockholm Syndrome.”

Sophie doesn’t immediately respond to the bleak sentiment. It’s simply a joke, of course, and as a matter of fact, very on-brand. But there’s enough truth to it to cause a momentary lapse in the lightness of their conversation.

Sophie has found gradually that Emma was right growing up. Gotham truly seems less like a place and more like an entity. It has a certain way of taking, taking, taking from a person, and when that person has nothing left to give, taking just a little bit more. The citizens meander like restless spirits, doomed to wander to and from their low-wage jobs for eternity. The air is heavier out there, tugging their faces down into sour expressions, aging them prematurely. A reflection of their surroundings.

Sophie often wonders if she looks the way they do.

If Emma notices the shift – which she certainly does, she always does – she politely ignores it. “I guess beggars can’t be choosers… It was nice of Eddie to let me stay with him on such short notice.” Fondly, she adds, “He may be a bit of a shithead, but he’s a good brother.”

Before Sophie can stop herself, she laughs aloud. “No comment. We do live on the same floor, you know.”

“Yeah, sorry about that. Do you two ever hang out?”

“Not particularly.” Sophie doesn’t dislike Eddie – quite the opposite, in fact. She always chalks up her lack of chemistry with him to simply having nothing in common. He and Emma share nothing but a birthday, a head of golden hair, and a pair of striking ice-blue eyes.

Rapid footsteps make their way into the foyer, breaking Sophie out of her reverie. “Mommy, look what I drew!”

Muttering a quick “hang on a second” into the receiver, she turns toward the source of the sound, and a sheet of paper is practically shoved in her face from below. She is met with a mish-mosh of various shapes and colors, one large brown figure taking precedence in the middle of the page.

She smiles warmly. “Wow, that’s very good, Gigi! What’s that a picture of?”

The artist beams with pride. “It’s the roach you killed in the bathroom yesterday!”

Son of a bitch.

“Can we put it on the fridge, Mommy?”

Blinking owlishly, Sophie scrambles for a response. They really don’t teach her this shit in those parenting books she sometimes finds at Gotham Central Library.

She settles on, “Honey, you already have so many nice ones up there, I just can’t decide which ones to keep! Let’s put this one away for now, and I’ll think about it, okay?” She offers her free hand to take the drawing so that she can accidentally misplace it later.

It does the trick. “Okay!” her daughter chirps, proudly handing over her portrait. Encourage, then swiftly change the subject – a motherly sort of manipulation that works in everyone’s favor.

“Holy shit, I haven’t even asked about Gigi yet!” Emma exclaims. “God, she must be getting so big! She starts Kindergarten this year, right?”

“Yeah, in the fall. And she comes all the way up to my waist now, isn’t that insane?” Unmistakable pride colors Sophie’s response.

“That’s so awesome! Did she miss me at all?” comes over the receiver as Gigi simultaneously begins an onslaught of “who’s that, Mommy, who’s that?”

“Miss you? Are you kidding? Listen to this.” Sophie crouches next to her daughter, holding the phone away from her ear, but nearby so that Emma can hear. “Gigi, your Aunt Emma’s on the phone. She’s coming to live here again soon, isn’t that great?”

The resounding shriek is a good indicator that she agrees. And that Sophie is going to have to bring the neighbors another gift basket so they don’t complain about her to the landlord.

“Can I talk to Aunt Emma, Mommy? Can I, can I, please, please, please?” Tiny, impatient hands grapple for the phone as laughter pours in from the other line.

“Come on, if I let you talk to her now, we’ll be stuck here forever.” A quick glance at the clock reveals that it’s nearing eight o'clock. “Besides, aren’t you supposed to be getting ready for bed soon?”

Gigi wrinkles her nose in distaste, and Sophie cuts her off before the complaints can begin. “No arguments, Gigi. Go start your bath – I’ll be there in just a minute.”

She receives a defiant huff; nevertheless, Gigi stomps her way to the bathroom, and Sophie waits for the sound of running water before she returns to the previous conversation.

“So anyway, Eddie tells me you’re holed up in a hotel room until the weekend. I’m guessing that Daniel didn’t take the…the breakup news very well?” she asks, somewhat cautiously. Talking about Emma’s husband – now ex-husband – is a mixed bag, even back when they were dating.

“You could say that,” Emma responds sheepishly. “It wasn’t pretty, let’s leave it at that. I thought it would be best for me to get out of the house right away, give him some time to himself.”

It makes Sophie nervous that she is skirting the question, but then again, Emma’s in a vulnerable position at the moment. And she’s rarely one to talk at length about her own emotions in the first place – she’s much more of a listener.

Sophie would like to ask what she means by “it wasn’t pretty”, but decides against prying. She would also like to ask why she ever married that jackass in the first place, since their relationship had been obviously strained from day one. It was always as if the two of them were tightrope walking over a volcano – bubbling quietly, boiling and threatening to swallow them both whole. The smallest change in the wind, the most harmless comment about Daniel not picking his towel up off the floor could send them tumbling into the inferno. She supposes one of them finally fell.

Something about that man has always creeped her out, but she gave up voicing her discontent with him after about the thirtieth time Emma brushed her off. She won’t say “I told you so”, since she wouldn’t want to belittle whatever pain Emma is going through. Still, she can’t help but feel a little relief – that doesn’t make her a terrible friend, right?

All of this can wait, though. It can wait until they’re seeing each other face-to-face again. Until Sophie isn’t on a strict time limit. She needs to wrap up the current conversation quickly because if she doesn’t, she could possibly be dealing with a flooded bathroom shortly. Five-year-olds do not generally care about the cost of repairing water damage if it seeps into the downstairs neighbor’s ceiling.

“I just wanted to make sure you were okay, with…you know…everything.”

“Of course!” Emma reassures her. “I’m perfectly fine. Like I said, I’m looking forward to being home. Honestly.”

Sophie is not convinced, and frankly, it sounds like Emma is not either. She wonders if her friend has been checking in on the worsening condition of their hometown from Metropolis. The homeless population is growing by the day, and the working class is becoming more and more restless due to low wages and poor working conditions in the inner city. Rumor has it that sanitation workers are chief among the dissatisfied, and a garbage strike is all but guaranteed by winter.

So much she wants to say. So much she can’t say. “That’s good. I’m happy for you.”

 _______________________________________________________________

Emma remembers around this time last year taking a trip to Paris, France. She saw the premiere of a musical there called Les Misérables – it was based off of her favorite book by Victor Hugo, so naturally, she begged and begged to go.

And what a payoff! The show was spectacular, from the costumes to the stage design to the music. Oh, the music! Despite being there with her then-husband, she had the most fun she’d had in years, letting the melancholy chords turn her as light as the air and the lyrics carry her far, far away in the wind.

Even more than the music, she was captivated by the plot. She could practically feel the plight of the poverty-stricken citizens. One of the opening scenes depicted the starving masses singing of their grief over the way they were snubbed by the wealthy, left to rot in the streets.

That is the scene Emma finds herself stepping into today. Only this time, she is not a passive observer, watching the events unfold without being affected. From today on, she is one of the characters.

From the moment she arrives in downtown Gotham City by taxi, the tension claws at her with icy hands. It digs into her ribcage with each glare aimed her way, even in the mild September breeze. She knows she sticks out like a preacher at a Pride parade in her obviously expensive skirt and heels. It’s not like she had time to go digging around her closet for something more appropriate that night she left her house.

Handsomely tipping her driver, she climbs out of the car and rushes underneath a set of archways and inside the apartment building where she’ll be living for the foreseeable future. She doesn’t look very closely at it from the outside, so desperate is she to get off the street and away from whatever the hell that smell is.

Emma uses the opportunity to finally look around a bit, taking her surroundings in with narrowed eyes. The lobby is dimly-lit, with no color to it whatsoever. The walls are painted a chipped-up brownish yellow, which could have been white many years ago. It reeks of mold, to the point where the smell outside might be the lesser of the two evils.  

Leaning carefully against the nearest wall, she mutters, “Not that bad, my ass.” From her purse, she retrieves her recently-purchased copy of a new novel titled Jumanji, and she waits.

And waits.

And waits.

And waits.

…

…

…

Emma’s eyes snap open - she hadn’t consciously closed them to begin with. She realizes with embarrassment that she almost fell asleep standing up. God, she’s more exhausted than she thought. How long has she been standing down here anyway?

“I’ll be home from work around four; I just need a little time to tidy up before you head over,” Eddie had said on the phone the night before. “I’ll meet you in the lobby and walk you up at six, okay?”

“That works,” Emma had replied. “As long as you’re actually there at six.”

“Hell’s that supposed to mean?”

“You’ve never exactly had a reputation for being punctual.”

“Jesus, Em. You think I’m gonna leave you hanging out down there alone?”

“We’ll see.”

Shutting her book, Emma checks her watch.

Six forty-five. That fucking flake forgot.

She groans, pushing herself languidly off the wall and scanning the room for assistance. No one at the front desk - in fact, there hasn’t been anyone there since she arrived, making her wonder briefly if she’s even in the right building.

Her eyes next land on the myriad of mailboxes against the opposite wall, closed off from the rest of the lobby by rusted wrought-iron bars, most likely to protect the postman. She walks through the open gate tentatively, and upon closer inspection, each mailbox has a sticker labeling the residents by apartment number. Bingo!

It doesn’t take long to find what she’s looking for. On the eighth floor, perfectly spelled out for her, she sees both S. Dumond in 8B and E. Boulanger in 8H. Why not visit the one who didn’t leave her stranded for an hour first? She could always call Eddie on Sophie’s phone anyway - the asshole probably smoked a joint as soon as he got home and passed out on the couch watching Magnum, P.I.

She heads for the elevator and presses the call button. As it whines slowly and almost menacingly down the shaft, she hears someone softly trudging along behind her, the very first sign of another life in here. As she enters the elevator, she politely holds the door open, and makes room for the clown getting on after her.

No, not a silly person. An actual clown. Painted face, red nose, neon green hair and all.

Of all the weird people she might expect to see in a place like this… Not even two hours in Gotham, and the evening is already shaping up to be quite the roller coaster.

Emma can’t help but stare as the doors shut and the clown punches the button for, coincidentally, the eighth floor. She settles into the far corner as she discreetly analyzes him. His posture, his defeated gait, the pitiful expression underneath his painted-on smile… His aura permeates the entire space, seemingly enough to weigh them both down, causing the elevator to drag slowly up the shaft like molasses, screeching all the way.

This is without a doubt the saddest clown Emma has ever seen. And she’s seen Pagliacci.

Around the third floor, there’s one long, particularly loud screech. Emma’s heart leaps to her throat as their ascent suddenly comes to a complete halt, and the lights in the tiny elevator space flicker on and off once. Is a three-story drop enough to kill a person her size? She prays that this isn’t how it ends - in this dingy elevator, terrified, with no one but a fucking clown. A clown who hasn’t moved an inch this entire time.

Thankfully, after a few seconds that seem to drag on for a lifetime, they start to slowly crawl up the shaft once more. Emma breathes an audible sigh of relief, and the clown seems to finally notice her, tossing a quick look of sympathy in her general direction.

Once she’s certain she can speak without her voice quivering, she does so. “Does…that happen often?”

Her voice really gets his attention. He whips his head around so fast she almost worries his little hat will come flying off like a frisbee. He blinks at her once, then twice, as if processing the fact that she is addressing him. For a split second, it looks like he’s going to say something.

Then, remembering himself, he simply shrugs bashfully. Emma lets out a breath she doesn’t realize she’s been holding.

She notices the decorative red flower adorning his lapel, one of those prop flowers that’s actually a tiny water gun. Smiling in a way that she hopes is charming instead of ill-at-ease, she points to it. “I, uh…I like your flower. It’s very pretty.”

The clown tilts his head curiously. After a beat, he wordlessly reaches up and into his bright plaid coat, holding said flower slightly out toward her. Offering for her to come closer, to lean in and smell it.

Emboldened, she grins, shaking her head at him. “No way, mister. I know how that trick ends.” She’s kidding around with him, but she really can’t afford to get her clothes wet right now; she only has the ones on her back, after all.

Still, his lips at last curl upward, a real smile that reaches the lights of his eyes. And it’s then that Emma can see the color in them, an enchanting seafoam green that inexplicably draws her in, pulling her away from the corner and toward his side. He watches her carefully and intensely with an expression she can’t quite read. When he turns to face the doors once more, it’s not without keeping her settled in his periphery.

Most people would probably be a bit nervous being…examined so thoroughly. However, Emma finds his mannerisms endearing in an odd way. She’s never cared much for clowns before, but this one doesn’t seem so bad.

They ride in comfortable silence for another few moments. When they reach their destination, Emma is the first to exit.

“Well, I don’t know about you, but I’m definitely taking the stairs from now on,” she says.

The clown nods in response as he exits behind her, giant red and blue shoes flopping comically over the threshold.

The hallway is a bit noisy, voices of the residents drifting through the paper-thin walls like a mist, creating a fine haze over everything. The walls are just a touch too close together, making Emma claustrophobic and urging her to get to 8B as quickly as possible.

Not wanting to come off as rude, she introduces herself. “I’m new to the building, by the way - my name’s Emma. It’s a pleasure.” She extends a hand to shake.

The clown does return the gesture, but not before staring her hand down for an abnormally long period of time. And his grip through the rough material of his gloves is so soft and careful, it’s as if it’s barely there.

She’d honestly like to chat with this fascinating new neighbor of hers a bit longer, but instead, she pulls her hand away, settling for a polite nod and a cheerful “good night”.

She does not look back to see that the clown’s unwavering gaze follows her all the way down the hall.

[dawsonscreekwasalwaysbad]

some lin-manuel miranda rhymes that I can’t believe exist

break of day/chase away

dawn, sing/awning/morning

exaggerated/exacerbated/complicated/emigrated

beyond that/passed on/gone back/get on that

escalator/test ya later

Rosario/barrio

cousin/runnin’/dime-a-dozen

Cole Porter/cold waters

practice at it/mathematics

stressed/yes/press/mess/checks/next

earner/learner/burner

statement/payment/pay rent

wide awake/highest place/fire escape

scholarship/dollar/college

GWB/gee nina, what’ll you be?

eyes on/horizon

Benny, hey/any sign/anyway/anytime

check it/rubber neckin’/a hundred ninety second/double decker/bus wreck

honey/money/one day

businessman/richer than

spending spree/entrance fee/friends with me

braggadocio/pinocchio/rodeo/tokyo

ready/heavy/already sweaty

answer/pants up

ass/axis/knapsack/jack/taxes

neck/respect/paycheck

hypotheticals/set of goals

pursue em/doin/ruin/brewin’/few on/room with a view/room with you in it

business/Christmas/Hiznits

thousand/housin/browsin

escalatin’/penetratin’/corporations/demonstratin’/immigration/hatin’/nation/latent/blatant

jokin’/broke then

snide/hide/inside

perceive it/believe that

silent type/island type/wild all night

guard the store/bombard the store/ain’t got a store no more

dilemmas/mess/less of/Vanessa

bogus/noticed

gather round, sit down/announcement/amounts, it’s/thousand

Republic/in love with

coroners/corner/foreigners

coulda been/hood again

plastic cups/has the cups

calling card/falling hard

crack of dawn/blackout goes on

back/trash/past/sack/cash

Hudson/just when/floods in

dawn/salon/move on/gone

legacies/recipes/rest in peace

destiny/best in me/test and we/pressin’ and/yes indeed

Scotsman/forgotten/spot in the/providence/impoverished

father/farther/harder/smarter/starter/charter/slaughtered/carted/guard up/part of/borrow/barter

came/reigned/drain/brain/refrain/pain

insane, man/mainland/came, and/name, man

Hamilton/haven’t done

debt ridden/bed ridden/half dead, sittin’

suicide/ruined pride/new inside

less astute/destitute/restitution

landlord/can’t afford

burr/sir/sure/service/nervous/blur/bursar/were/verse/worst/immature/words/absurd/confer/Mercer/secure/stir

handles/financials

orphan/war then/more than

horses/of course it’s/intercourse/four sets/corsets

college/astonish/polish/knowledge

piece of coal/reach my goal/unimpeachable

older/colder/shoulder

disadvantage/manage/brandish/famished

independently/essentially/relentlessly/spendin’ spree/descendants free/century/enter me/parentheses/mentions me/sets us free/eventually/ascendancy

Britain/shittin’

apprentice/parentis

fraught/taught/shot/got/Lancelot/hot/lot/plot/pot/spot/not

manumission/abolitionists/position/ammunition is

memory/ahead of me/let it be/melody

ask/fast/laugh/flask/have/last/that’s

movement/prove went

foes oppose us/roll like Moses

honest stand/promised land

independence/descendants/endless/defendants

street is excitin’/bleedin’ and fightin’/readin’ and writin’

summer in the city/someone lookin’ pretty

searchin’/urchin

disgust me/discussed me

Common Sense/Thomas Paine/I’m intense/I’m insane

revolution/revelation

happenin/Manhattan/happen to be in

rabble/unravel

have not/have-nots

interests/win this

Boston/cost and/lost and/Congress

strangely/mange

mercy/Jersey

modulate the key/not debate with me

divisive/indecisive/niceties

arrangement/estrangement

millisecond/feel a second

general/men are all

elegance/eloquence/elephant

fleeting/leading/retreating/bleeding

Brooklyn/rook/look

batterin’/battery

stand with the/stamina/granted us

giddy up/divvy up/city up/givin’ up

distance/assistance

Montgomery/summary

neck/Quebec

play out/way out

contrary/beyond scary

hire you/why’re you

inside/kingsmen/things slide

spies/supplies/guys/surprise

station/information/occasion/nation

on and on/phenomenon

watch this/obnoxious

undeniable/reliable

sister/if, Burr

rich, son/which one

revel/rebels

nightly/write me

harem/share him

dollar to my name/dollop of fame

confides in me/bite of me

bride/side/provide/satisfied/rewind

pang frame/dang name

heart aflame/part aflame/not a game

match wits/catch, it’s

seeing the light/key and a kite/see it, right?

two minutes/three minutes/agreement, it’s/dream and it’s

wittiest/city is/insidious

penniless/any less

status, I’d/that aside/that is why/that’s his bride/satisfied

mind/find/kind/silently/resigned/mine/fine/lyin’

fantasize/alexander’s eyes/romanticize/hadn’t sized

four of us/poor of us

colonel/journal

command/mannin’

sensible/indispensable

unlawful, sir/officer

brimstone/hymns won’t

preacher/teach ya

despondent/correspondence

George/forces/resorted/horses

assistance/sixpence

apprenticeship/sent a ship

gone with/Monmouth

piss in/listen

devices/indecisive/crisis to crisis

go back to/tobacco

second/reckoned

civility/deniability

moment/opponent

ruinous/doin’ this

Alexander/commander

war was won/war’s not done

poor man’s wife/your life/your wife

quagmire/flag higher

weapon/step in

henchmen/Frenchman

engagin’/escapin’/enragin’

do in a trench/ingenuitive/fluent in French/use him eventually/do on the bench

resilience/brilliance

practical/tactical

fight for your land back/right hand man back

command/firsthand

rise in me/eyes on me

lies in you/eyes on you

ahead of me/end of me/friend with me/expectin’ me

one shot/gunshot

stay in it/bayonet

Rochambeau/go man go

American/experiment

government/smuggle it/covenant/lovin’ it/ruffians/shovel it

say to you/day to you

jury/curious

harmony/Albany

democracy/Socrates/rocks at these/mediocrities

delegate/indelicate

listless/is this

abrasive/persuasive

solution/Constitution

amendments/independence

stall for/all for

London/husband

always pays/all my days/turn of phrase

orphan/war vet/more debt/forfeit/more yet

President/precedent

resist him/system

haven’t had the chance/ambassador to France

step in the place/red in the face

quote em/wrote em

paid/afraid/made/shade

outrageous/damn pages

land of the free/candidacy

assume the debts/union gets

competitive/sedative

Enlightenment/fight in it

President/reticent/jettison/medicine/debt is in

Madison/mad as a hatter, son

two shits/shoe fits

blunder/wonder/thunder

compromise/otherwise

ocean away/notion away

socked away/block away

said/head/red/led/bed/spread/said

helpless/hell yes

last time/pastime

received a letter/even better

luck/fuuuuu–

cuckold/unbuckled

apologetic/pathetic

dinner and invite/Virginian insight

another/southerners/other words

God we trust/got discussed

save the day/trade away

Republican/up and up again

great/create/upstate/Wait.

crooked/took it

tyranny/here and he

basket/ask it

freedom/lead ‘em

rioting/disquieting

witted/admit it/acquitted

remind you/behind you

action/reaction/fractured/factions/fractions/retractions/satisfaction/fits of passion/pits of fashion/ration to ration/cash in

askin’/task/vacous mass/at last/unmask

cock it/watchin’/Washington/pocket

doubled the/government/wasn’t the/trouble with/much of our

enterprise/centralizing

credit/competitive/abet it

complicit in/kissin’ it/isn’t gon’/listen to/disciplined/dissidents/this is the/difference/this kid is

up against/Republicans

favor/say, sir/pay for/behavior

less/press/address/yes

pseudonym/do to him

moment/home in

pieces/Jesus

Coast Guard/Post ardently

vice President/nice president

taunts/response

courted me/escorted me/corner/extorted me/sordid fee/quarterly/mortally/orderly

record/check in/checkered/check it

again/against

history/list and see/consistency

spent/cent/sent/scent

resistance/existence/indifference/deliverance

had aside/at her side/satisfied

senses/sentences/defenseless/obsessed/senseless

blocks/box/fox/frocks/socks

watch the show/father though

go now/show now

want this/conscience

like it uptown/quiet uptown

faction/attractive

extreme you/redeem you

change course/key endorsement

defeatist/elitist

here with him/beer with him

orphan/whore’s son/endorse

disgrace/time and place/face to face

believe/sleeve/grievance/disagreements

legitimate/bit of it

enemy/ever see/remember me/legacy/get to see

sing for me/symphony/sent for me

difference/immigrants/fingerprints

rise up/time’s up/wise up/eyes up/Eliza

[enetproperty-blog]

House Prices Post Brexit

Where will UK house prices in the post Brexit world be headed? House Prices Post-Brexit Well, we don’t know for sure yet because we don’t know what kind of Brexit we will get, or even if we will get one anyway, (the UK could delay the fateful day or even change its mind). Of course, all the uncertainty is making business and consumers delay decisions on things. It will all work out in the end but whichever way you look at it, Brexit is a big change to the economic landscape. Back in 2015 I wrote a piece where I looked at house prices in the UK and whether they were too high or too low and where they might be headed. In fact, I have written several pieces like this from time to time. When I wrote the 2015 piece, (see link at the very end of this blog), I still never really envisaged that the UK would leave the European Union, so things have changed and my conclusions are worth revisiting in the light of the decision to leave. Back then, I was concerned that house prices looked “toppy” in places like London and I also mused on the potential for endemic deflation to set in for the long term, which I suggested would eventually have a big impact on house prices too. (Ultimately, in the medium to long run, consumer price inflation eventually feeds into asset inflation – things like house prices and share prices – or at least it does in the absence of other big factors, such as huge moves in in the cost of borrowing and saving money (interest rates)). So what’s changed then? Brexit and The Migrants Since I wrote my 2015 piece, Brexit has made the UK a far less attractive place for migrants to come to work in. Many migrant workers already here and those considering coming here will regularly translate what they can make and save here in pounds back into Zlotys or Czech Crowns or whatever and conclude that the UK is not so great any more. The devalued exchange rate for the UK pound against other currencies as a result of Brexit has seen to that. Some may also worry about whether they will be able to actually stay in the future (though I think this is less of a concern right now). Plus, the economies of Poland and many other parts of Europe are now growing at a faster pace than the UK and have been so for at least nine months. There are suddenly more jobs and more opportunities back home as the EU area finally seems to be coming out of the slow lane. Oh, and don’t think that the healthcare and schools in places like Central and Eastern Europe are worse than the UK, which must be why the migrants like it so much here. If you think that, you really need to get out and travel more. Most of my EU migrant tenants are not overly impressed with our schools or our NHS. Sorry if that’s news to people. So, why does this matter? Well, population pressures from migration has been a huge factor in house price (and to a lesser extent) rental price inflation. Take it away and you take away a big support for house prices. The Great House Price Collapse 1989-1995 In my 2015 article I reminded people how house prices fell in most of the UK by 30 to 35% in real terms from 1989 to 1995, an event which caused people real misery as the value of their homes plummeted to well below the value of their mortgages, leaving them paying interest on a loan that was more than the value of their home. Ouch!  House prices  did not pick up again until late in 1996, and even then it took a while for the rises to filter outside the south east. It can be so easy to forget this recent history in those areas of the UK, (especially London and the South East), which have seen more or less steady and sustained rises in house prices ever since 1996-7 But here is another thing to mull over. In the period from 1989 to 1995, the population of the UK stagnated or fell. This is a fact which is often overlooked, because most people just ascribe the falls in house prices then, to the shock of fast rising interest rates in 1989 and the withdrawal of double MIRAS (mortgage interest relief at source). They overlook the demographic impact of the population fall on house prices at that time. In this Brexit world, we must be alert to the possibility that if there is a big exit of migrants, house prices will certainly be affected adversely. And so will rents. On a very slightly more positive note, there are some factors working the other way as a result of Brexit. One is that foreign cash investment in the UK property market, especially from the likes of China and Singapore has increased even more as a result of the cheaper pound. But, as we have often said, too much of this money ends up in “me-too flats” which are already oversupplied, even in London. So, the impact on house prices of this particular extra stock could be limited in the longer term and it could possibly even be negative.  (Too much supply chasing too few tenants). The Asian investors are more likely to lose money over ten years than make much, bless ’em! The other factors in my 2015 piece have not changed much, though the risk of some inflation in the UK in the short to medium term is higher than it was in 2015. This could lead the government to increase interest rates, though only if the economy could stand it. However, I don’t think this is the case right now, given the very tight squeeze consumers are still under. So, actually in conclusion, I think that the outlook for house prices and rents is probably worse than it was in 2015. But, again so what? Should you not buy UK property? Opportunities in UK Property Right Now Always remember, not everywhere in the UK do house prices and rents move in the same way. Opportunities abound. And they abound most when all around is doom and gloom. The trick as a property investing landlord who is interested in holding property for the long term is to buy into the right area and the right type of property that will do well, even if the worst predictions about the economy come true. And also, those people who manage their property letting businesses well, keeping costs down, will always fare well too. Makes sure you are one of them. This is how we help people at LettingFocus in our one to one advice sessions.  WE show them where and what to buy and how to manage their lets effectively. Deflation, House Prices and Population ABOUT LETTINGFOCUS Services for Private Landlords We help landlords and property investors by showing them how to make money in the private rented sector using ways which are fair to tenants and which involve minimal risk. Our advice is completely independent. We take don’t commission payments or fees from anyone, ever. 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