- m
Hi, I’m Marrus. I’m an artist in New Orleans, and I'm raising money for my beloved friend, Victoria.
In December of 2025, we were working at a Renaissance Faire, and festival food is Victoria's weakness. All day, I'd been laughing as she downed jester chips, fried Oreos, and Korean corn dogs. When her stomach started hurting, we agreed it was likely due to her questionable dietary choices. The pain passed.
Two weeks later, it was back. And it was much worse. Her eyes turned yellow. She went to the emergency room, and was admitted immediately. You know it's serious if Victoria goes to a hospital, let alone to see a doctor.
Because Victoria is a consummate badass.
The summer of 2025, she opened an arts and antiques shop, Ortus, and when she’s not running the store, she's slinging drinks at Aunt Tiki’s, a 24-hour dive bar in the French Quarter. She is fearless, funny, and deeply loved.
The biopsy came back today.
The mass on her liver is metastatic pancreatic cancer.
She is now figuring out what treatment looks like going forward. What hasn’t stopped—and can’t—is life.
• Ortus is still open, running with a single employee
• The livelihoods of about forty artists and vendors are tied to her shop
• Two big, white, fluffy dogs depend on her
• Rent and utilities are due on both her shop and her apartment
• She’s on pain medication, and facing enormous uncertainty
Financial pressure should not join this crushing list.
Because cancer doesn't care about her responsibilities, or that she is only 35, or how many people depend on her.
But WE care.
Anything you throw into the jar will go to Victoria, giving her the breath she needs to fight this with dignity.
The name you see as the "beneficiary", Steve Waldrop, is her dad (who's practically been living at the hospital). He's handling as much as he can for her while she focuses on getting better.
Thank you for caring for her with us.
Thank you for showing up.
Thank you for helping us ease the road ahead, however we can.
--Marrus