#i have the next page in mind it's gonna be hashtag drama

[laulo821]

The spacecrew belongs to @zapsoda

uh oh it fares unwell for mr plushie here ....

<- part three / part five ->

[anthropologicalhands]

ceg fic: miss do it right

title: miss do it right gift for: @clemdhoffryn for @crazyexvalentine word count: 4,885 summary: Valencia is ready to propose to Beth. The question, however, of when and where requires expert advice. Valencia & Heather, Beth/Valencia. notes: Happy Valentine’s Day!

~

“I need your help,” Valencia announces, breezing into Heather and Hector’s foyer, straight into the living room and perching on the arm of the couch adjacent to Heather’s current seat. “Also you really need to get a gardener—that trellis is leaning over.”

“Hector’s getting around to it,” says Heather, looking up from her magazine. “Hi, welcome back to West Coast, Best Coast or whatever. Didn’t I tell you to start texting if you were gonna come over?”

“I told you I was planning a wedding this weekend,” Valencia says archly, as if the mere statement of fact automatically absolves her of visitor’s etiquette. “Remember? In the group chat?”

“Oh, I remember. I just kind of generally assumed it was in New York. Since you do, you know, live there.”

Valencia pouts. “Come on, aren’t we hashtag gurlgroup4evah? Physical walls are meaningless. And I totally gave you a key to my place. You could do the same exact same thing to me and I wouldn’t mind.”

“That argument worked when you were in East Cameron, not East Coast. When am I ever gonna go to New York?”

“For me, obviously,” says Valencia. “Or for a Home Base conference, I guess.”

“They’re a West Coast chain.”

“So? Weren’t you planning on revolutionizing their corporate headquarters, or something?”

“I was, but that’s like, halfway through my five-year plan that I’m going to start next year.”

“Oh. Are you really not happy to see me?” asks Valencia, and she sounds just a tiny bit deflated, like she’s actually worried that that’s the case. Heather drops her magazine on the side table (occasionally, she marvels at how adulthood came upon her so fast—these have mermaid feet, irony unintended, that make her ridiculously happy).

“I’m happy to see you, Vee, can’t you tell?”

Valencia narrows her eyes. “Usually you’re happier.”

“You literally just walked in when I wasn’t expecting you for three weeks. Let me have a reaction time. And given your stance on Hector is lukewarm at best I’m still surprised to see you here.”

“I follow Hector on Instagram, and I happen to know that he has a surfing competition in Monterey this weekend,” says Valencia knowingly. “And I definitely know that you are always down for adventures, especially if there is just the right amount of drama.” Valencia wiggles her shoulders for emphasis.

Heather leans forward, studying her friend. There’s something surprisingly spiky and Rebecca-like about her energy –not out of whack, not in a bad way, but it’s there.

“Everything all right, Vee?” Heather asks. “You’re weirdly hyped up. Are you on a Guatemalan coffee kick again?”

“Please, you know I’m on a kombucha cleanse right now.”

“Kombucha can do all this?” Heather gestures up and down Valencia, like her “this” is the new “it” and she’s Clara Bow. 

(Heather took a film class for like, three weeks in freshman year before she dropped it for being insanely pretentious.)

Annoyed, Valencia swats Heather’s hand away—all right, she’s not too far gone.

Valencia gives an exaggerated roll of her eyes. “No, it’s not the kombucha. It’s something way more important.”

There is a very meaningful pause; Heather waits, unsure whether it is done out of Valencia’s natural sense of making an entrance or for Heather’s benefit is a sincere question.

“I’m going to ask Beth to marry me.”

“Oh,” Heather blinks. “Wow.”

It’s not an unexpected announcement and given with Valencia’s usual careless confidence. But there is trepidation there, if one knows how to look for it.

“Does it seem weird? Tell me if it’s weird.”

“Uh, not weird, no,” says Heather carefully. “But given what happened a few months ago, I have to ask…”

“Yeah, we’ve been talking about it,” says Valencia irritably, waving a hand. “We’re on the same page. But I want it to be right, and I need help to make that happen.”

“Okay. And you’re asking me because…”

“Because Rebecca has a lot going on, and while I love the girl, I need someone who won’t let me get carried away with something way out of my budget.”

“That makes sense,” Heather agrees. “What about Paula?”

“She has that big case she’s presenting on Monday, and she doesn’t know Beth as well as you do.”

“True. That afternoon at the Korean spa means we’re bonded for life now, united by a great and terrible event.”

“You loved it. Didn’t you feel all nice and fresh?”

“Only because I had to grow a whole new layer of skin. I’m amazed Beth liked it; she was completely pink.”

“I mean, that happens if she steps out in the sun for five minutes without a hat,” says Valencia fondly. “But I’m not asking you to climb into a sauna, I’m asking you to help me propose to my girlfriend. Will you do it?”

“I mean, obviously. I’m a total romantic, so of course I’ll help.”

Valencia’s forehead wrinkles in a very pointed way. “You got married because of health insurance. I just need someone to tell me if I’m getting out of bounds with like, budget and expectations.”

“Wanting your partner to be healthy for the long run is very romantic.”

“Not enough to try to skip the actual wedding part,” grumbles Valencia.

“Who is asking who for help getting married, again?”

“Fair,” concedes Valencia grudgingly, though her smile undercuts some of her pretense. She kicks herself up and off the couch and gestures imperiously at Heather. “Now come on, we need to get going if we don’t want to be late.”

“Uh, we? Where?”

I have a vineyard in Temecula to make sure it is an ideal venue for my client, remember? We can multitask on the drive up.”

“Uh, now?”

“Why not?” With a flourish, Valencia pulls out a notebook that is already crammed full of post-its and other notes. “You can look at this on the way up. Plus, I can guarantee that we can ask to sample some of their viticultural offerings.”

“Well, when you put it like that.” Heather stands and stretches. “I did have a busy afternoon planned for contemplating my existence, but I’ll move for free wine.”

~

Valencia’s planner, much like her initial dream wedding plans, is elaborately and meticulously tabbed. Leafing through the pages, Heather briefly recognizes one of the strange commonalities between Valencia and Rebecca that reminds her that, as strange as the beginning of that friendship was, there’s a reason that their bond is as strong as it is. Valencia drives. It gives her a weird burst of fondness for them.

“You really thought these out,” says Heather, reading through a meticulous list of what it would take to plan a flash mob in Times Square with a reasonable budget. 

“Right? I mean, I have ideas for days. It’s what I do—dolling up other people’s bad ideas and persuading them that mine are better. I can do this forever.”

“Great. So, why do you need me?”

Valencia’s fingers drum against the wheel of her rental car, clearly annoyed. “Because I’ve been striking out. Like, these are objectively great proposal ideas, right? But I can’t decide which one is actually, like, the best one.”

“I can see that,” says Heather, eyebrows shooting up when she turns a page and sees an elaborate plan for a hot air balloon proposal scribbled out with angry red marker. “What are you looking for, then?”

“Something that speaks to both of us. Like, as awesome as my spacing is for the choreo, I know that Beth wouldn’t want a flash mob in Times Square.”

“Yeah, that seems like a you thing. A pretty specific you thing.” Heather shoots her an inquiring look. “Did you?”

Valencia shifts uncomfortably. “There was a time where I might have mentioned it to Josh.”

“Wow.”

“Hey, Josh is terrible, but if he choreographed a dance proposal, it would have been amazing.”

“Can’t argue with that.” One of the pages just seems to be a froth of white lace paper surrounding a list of names at its center. Heather squints at the neat penmanship, idly wondering if she needs glasses or if Valencia’s handwriting is just really that small. “Is this a guest list?”

“No. I also really always wanted to do it at someone else’s wedding. Preferably Denise Martinez’s—”

“Valencia…”

“But that’s also not Beth’s style,” finishes Valencia slightly irritated. “Like I said, the proposal has to match both of us. I did learn from my mistakes, you know.”

“I’m not saying you didn’t,” says Heather mildly.

“And that list is out of date anyways. Denise got married last month and I hear that her and her new husband are already fighting.”

“Don’t sound so gleeful.”

“Sorry,” says Valencia almost contritely, merging off the highway. “We have a long history.”

“So I heard. We definitely need to unpack that some time.”

~

“Oh, this is perfect,” Valencia breathes, overlooking the gently rolling hills and the rows of twining grapevines.

“It’s pretty great,” Heather agrees, coming up besides her, hands tucked in her pockets. “It’s practically worth the sticker price.”

“Nothing’s worth the sticker price. I’ll get a better deal.”

“That winery owner guy seemed pretty stodgy.”

“I have my ways,” says Valencia enigmatically, which both impresses and concerns Heather in equal measures. 

“I don’t doubt it.” There’s a pause as they survey the scenery together. 

“Why wouldn’t you propose to Beth here?” 

“Hm?” Valencia turns to look at Heather, the arch of her eyebrows more inquiring than sharp.

“You and Beth. I mean, this place makes a wicked rosé—”

“Since when do you use wicked? That’s an East Coast word.”

“’Cause it’s a great word? And I’m from Michigan, which is kind of East Coast.”

Valencia pulls a face.

Heather rolls her eyes in response. “Whatever. But seriously, this seems ideal. It has a view, it’s romantic—it’s everything you wanted. And you and Beth have family here, so you can have a big party after she says yes.”

“It has a lot,” agrees Valencia wistfully. Then she sighs. “But it won’t work.”

“Why not?”

“Josh and I used to come here. Too many memories.”

“Oh.”

“Right? Josh just ruins everything.”

“Okay, it’s been three years, I think you can lay off of Josh.”

“Nah. I’ve dedicated too much time into it. I’m going to be doing this until after we’re both married. Speaking of Josh, you’ve met Rosa, right?”

“Yeah. I like her. I didn’t know that you met her—”

“Oh, yeah. Nice girl,” says Valencia, sounding vaguely surprised. Given Josh’s previous type, Heather can’t entirely blame her. Valencia continues, “But for whatever reason, they work well together. We had a long talk - I warned her about all of his flaws, and she said that she knows and she was positive she could handle it. Then she complimented my earrings.”

Heather has to smile at that. She is the least well-acquainted with Josh of their friends (though she’s probably seen him in far more intimate situations than most people ever have to see their friends), so her personal frustrations with him tended to be from far briefer interactions, over much more quickly. She’s glad to see that Josh seems settled in a way that he hasn’t been since she’s known him.

“It’s nice, isn’t it?”

“Yeah,” admits Valencia, softening a little. “I am actually happy for him. But I have to keep up appearances - we were together way too long.”

“That’s fair.”

~

Once the vineyard has been approved (and Valencia has worn down the owner to her terms), they head back to Heather’s place, open a couple extra bottles of rosé and buckle down.

“Too much hassle,” says Valencia, X-ing out what seems to be a plan for a private yacht.

“Too showy,” agrees Heather, marking off a flashing billboard. She turns the page and squints at a picture of a dark room lit by hundreds of tiny flames.

“Isn’t Beth allergic to those candles?” she asks.

“They would be soy,” Valencia protests, but rather hastily reaches across the page to mark it out. “Still, you have a point.”

“That’s also a fire hazard, right there.”

“I’m not Rebecca,” says Valencia irritably.

 “That’s still a lot of open flames. I’m just saying. Why not just go Big Fish and propose with a bunch of flowers?”

“I can’t. Beth’s allergic to flowers.”

Heather blinks.

“Seriously?”

Valencia shrugs. “Look, there’s a reason she hired me to do certain events that she couldn’t. She’s all about the hands-on activities. Pollen and natural phenomena - not so much.”

“Got it. So Big Fish is totally out?”

“Totally.”

~

Despite what Heather expected and the width and breadth of the notebook, they are burning through the ideas in the planner at an alarming rate. Valencia is clearly panicking too, if the two glasses of rosé are any indication.

“You know what would be great? The Met! Yeah, you could hide behind one of the exhibits to record, we’re surrounded by all this history, I’m sure they have something by Sappho in there, Beth loves her stuff—”

“Okay, just so we’re setting reasonable expectations or whatever, I can tell you right now that I am not going to New York just to help you propose,” Heather warns. “I have like, a household budget, and there’s only so much that I can dip into Hector’s accident fund and still have enough.”

Valencia lets out a little huff that indicates that while she respects Heather’s commitment to her budget, she continues to be less-than-impressed. It reminds Heather to text Hector and tell him that he might need to spend the night out with the guys—just because him and Valencia are no longer on murder terms doesn’t mean she can feel like she can guarantee his personal safety.

“Okay, fine. Skip to page sixty-eight.” At Heather’s disbelieving look, Valencia shrugs defensively. “What? A girl can dream in destinations.”

Heather does as she’s asked without further commentary. It’s not that Heather expected that helping Valencia plan a proposal would be simple. But Valencia knows her tastes—Heather was reasonably certain that her role would be as a yes woman and occasional financial wisdom rather than active decision making.

They aren’t using the couch or even the coffee table anymore—they’ve pulled off all of the cushions and have created a sort of nest on the floor.

“I can propose at a concert!” says Valencia, entirely too brightly.

Heather raises her head off one of the cushions. “You guys like going to concerts?”

“Not really? But everyone proposes at John Legend’s concerts, so it would work.”

“Beth likes John Legend?”

“Kind of? She doesn’t mind him but she loves Chrissy Teigen. And maybe we’d get some good karma from their marriage.”

“Not bad. You might also get drinks spilled on you,” Heather reminds her. “It could be sticky. Plus, other people might propose at same concert and steal your thunder.”

“Ugh, true. Plus, the scheduling doesn’t work out—he won’t be on tour for a good few months.”

Perhaps it is the tiredness, or remembering that she still needs to write up the shift schedules for next month, that prompts her to suggest, “Why not Home Base? I mean, you guys did agree to meet there. So, like, it’s sentimental.”

Valencia somehow looks affronted, disgusted and poorly hiding it, and despairing all at once. Heather would almost be impressed.

“I’ve been going to Home Base longer than you’ve been working there, Heather. I really don’t want to propose marriage at the bar where I used to pick up Elena from softball practice. It doesn’t feel right.”

Heather props herself up on her elbows so that she can look at Valencia properly. “Okay. What doesn’t feel right? It’s not going to be perfect.”

“I’m not going for perfect,” says Valencia irritably. “I gave Rebecca perfect, and look where that landed her. A perfect proposal would mean an island vacation, and dessert for Beth, and possibly sky writing. But it would also mean debt and she would so not be happy about that.”

 “Great. Is that the only thing you’re worried about?”

 Valencia’s hands twist against each other in her lap. Then they untangle and she dives into her purse and pulls out a small black box, which she sets on the table between them. Gone is her haughty event planner bravado, now Valencia just looks lost, more than Heather has ever seen her. 

“This proposal has to feel right because I messed up the first time.”

“The first time?”

“The ultimatum,” says Valencia glumly. “I don’t want it to be too much—it needs to be something that Beth would love to accept. Something that proves that we know each other and can be a part of each other’s lives.”

“Can I see it?” At Valencia’s nod of permission, Heather reaches over and opens the box to look at the ring.

“It’s beautiful.”

“Isn’t it? Moshe has a good collection. I’ve known this is the one for her for ages now. And…I want that feeling about how I propose. Does that make any sense?”

It does. Heather nods, waiting for Valencia to continue.

“It’s just…I made such a big deal about wanting to get married, and I want this proposal to show her that I know her, and it’s not all about me me me.”

“Of course.”

“That’s why I asked you. You might not be the biggest romantic of all of us, but you follow your gut about what feels right. And I want that confidence when I ask her.”

It’s both touching and terrifying to have that much faith in a person. Awkwardly, Heather pats Valencia’s shoulder. Valencia leans into the touch anyways, seeking whatever awkward comfort that Heather tries to give.

“You know, she’s going to love you whatever you do,” says Heather slowly. “And obviously, you know her well enough to know that these insanely awesome proposals are still awesome, just not right. We’ll find something better. And, like, I’m not gonna give up. You’re not going to leave California without a game plan.

Valencia gives her a tiny smile.

“Thank you, Heather,” she says. She looks ready to say more, but then there’s the sound of a very small gong being struck.

Valencia frowns, pulling her phone out of her pocket, scans the screen, and sighs. “I have to go. The client with the vineyard wants to meet now, of all times. I’m gonna go to her place, but when I get back, maybe we can just have a girls’ night in? No more proposal talk?”

“Sure, whatever you want. I can just duck out and like, get some more rosé. Just wines. Ablutions to drown our frustrations.”

Valencia smiles wanly and sees herself out. Heather waits until she’s sure that Valencia’s car has pulled away before hitting her speed dial. Heather is the coolest of her friends, even now that they are all responsible adults, and sometimes that means admitting that you are out of your depth.

~

Still, Heather isn’t lying when she says she needs to go pick up wines. She does.

At Il Cabino. Where Rebecca is waiting at a table for two, astonishingly early.

“You need to help me,” says Heather, not bothering with niceties. As frustrating as Rebecca’s flakiness can be, it is refreshing that she never gets insulted by Heather’s brusqueness.

“Oh, absolutely,” says Rebecca, eyes wide. “I know I haven’t been very good at that in the past, but like, right now I’m all ears.”

“Valencia is going nuts about proposing to Beth—”

Rebecca nods sympathetically. “Oh yeah, I know.”

“You know?”

“Yeah. She’s been texting me.”

Heather looks closely at Rebecca and only sees frank interest in the other woman’s gaze, no impression of jealousy or hurt. “Okay…so you know and you don’t feel left out?”

“She made it very clear that I’m not supposed to help, and given my past record for helping Valencia with anything, I figured the least I could do is let her do her thing,” says Rebecca with remarkable understatement. “Anyways, I’m actually crazy busy. My singing lessons are turning my brains to mush.”

“Hm, and I was hoping to hear that you were actually working your pretzel stand so we could swap tips as fellow businesswomen.”

“Nah, I just let AJ take care of it. His rent is less than a hundred bucks, he can manage.”

“Right. Enough about your life, back to my problems.”

“Shutting up now.” Rebecca mimes zipping her lips.

“Thank you. But Valencia is driving me insane with rejecting every single proposal idea I have. And, like, my ideas are good. I’m good at organizing events.”

“Right. You guys are crazy good at that.”

“I suggested Home Base, kind of as a joke, and she nearly bit my head off.”

“I mean, Home Base is not super romantic. I had enough sex in the back room there enough to know.”

“What a coincidence, so did I,” says Heather dryly. “Which means I probably should pay for an extremely thorough cleaning, but that’s besides the point. If Valencia isn’t feeling it, it’s not going work. So I figured, I’ve been striking out, I might as well ask our local romance expert for tips.”

“Aww,” coos Rebecca, placing her hand on her heart. Then her expression shifts from soppy to self-deprecatingly wry. “You guys must really be in a tight spot.”

“Yep. So…what do you have for me?”

Rebecca looks thoughtful, not unfocused like when she goes in her head or is too absorbed in her problems.

“I mean, Beth isn’t a total romantic, but she likes to make things meaningful,” says Rebecca after a pause. “She wouldn’t be in these kinds of events if she didn’t. Maybe for Valencia, she’s asking Beth to spend the rest of their lives together. Ask her about if there’s any specific moment when she knew that she wanted Beth to be in her life forever. Like, I know you are big on how there isn’t one moment of magical epiphany and I totally agree, for the record—but she made the decision that it was gonna be Beth at some point. Maybe asking when and where would give her a few new ideas.”

It's an almost stupefying simple idea. Heather nods slowly. “Right. Like, what do they do together that makes Valencia want to spend every day doing the same thing?”

“Exactly. Like, it’s just about finding resonance, right? Something that reaffirms how they feel, but not in an artificial or contrived way. Just love.”

“Right,” says Heather, starting to smile. “Thanks, Rebecca. That helps a lot.”

Rebecca beams. “Any time. And uh, not to be mercenary or anything, but since I gave good advice, does that mean you can pick up the tab? Music lessons have really tightened up my budget and you did offer to take me out to happy hour, so.”

~

“You’ve been gone a while.” 

There’s a faintly accusatory tone to Valencia’s words when Heather gets back. She’s already sprawled over the couch, reading the magazine that Heather dropped earlier that morning.

“And yet, you still let yourself into my house. How was the meeting?”

“Okay. Honestly, it’s a good thing I’m in a personal crisis right now or I would have never agreed to do their wedding. Ugh, what annoying people. But, I promised, no more wedding talk. Tell me what’s been going on at Home Base. Don’t spare any details—I know you love that drama.”

“I do love drama. But before we get into that, I think I have one more suggestion that might help you with the whole proposal situation. Just one.”

“Okay?”

“I’m not a traditionally romantic person. You know this.”

“I do.”

“And I married Hector when I did because he really needed the health insurance. But I knew that I wanted to spend my life with him before that. He makes me laugh. He makes things light in my life. Even when he does something stupid like almost lose his toe.”

“That’s…surprisingly sweet, Heather.”

“Don’t say it’s wasted on Hector,” Heather warns.

“I’m not, but trust me, it’s hard.”

“Good. But that was a very roundabout, Rebecca-like way of asking: maybe think about when you decided you wanted to marry Beth?”

Valencia exhales noisily, slumping back against the sofa arm. “I’m almost never not thinking about it. When we’re at work together, when we’re talking, whenever I see her when I wake up in the morning with all of the light in her hair—” Valencia abruptly stops speaking, eyes wide.

Heather takes the opening.

“So there is a moment?”

“Yes.”

“In the morning?”

“Yes!”

“So you’re basically saying that she’s your sunshine?”

Valencia is too excited to be annoyed by Heather’s teasing. “Yes, exactly. She’s my sunshine! Which believe me, was sometimes the only thing that got me through this winter. It was cold.”

“I’ll bet,” agrees Heather. “New York isn’t exactly balmy.”

“Yeah, yeah. No, this is perfect.”

“So you know what you’re going to do?”

“Uh huh.”

“Are you going to tell me? Where will this event take place?”

“Our apartment. That’s our home now. It’s a shoebox and extremely uncomfortable, but it’s also ours. And mine. And that’s the first time I ever had something like that.”

Valencia actually sounds giddy.

“What do you think?” she appeals to Heather.

“That sounds just like both of you.”

“I think so.” Valencia looks conflicted. “But I want to share it with you guys too. Like, I want a little fun, otherwise I’ll just start crying and in the sloppy way, not the movie-style pretty way.”

“Again, I can’t go to New York. Paula’s too busy and Rebecca is equally broke.”

Valencia’s eyes sparkle. “Okay, but what is the best way to visit New York without visiting New York?”

Heather has an inkling of where this is going.

“You’re going to livestream your proposal?”

“Of course not. I’m going to livestream after she says yes.”

“Oooh boy.”

Valencia flutters a hand. “I think she’ll be fine as long as the actual moment itself is private. She’s not like me—she doesn’t want to get a proposal in front of people. So…you think it’s good?”

“It’s perfect. Out of curiosity, why did you want to be proposed to in front of people?”

“I mean, it used to be a social-capital type of thing, but honestly, I don’t want all of West Covina there. I would want you guys, and my family to share the moment. Cause you love us, you love Beth…and it’s still nice to be the center of attention once in a while. But that’s me, not Beth. Now, enough proposal talk. Let’s crack these wine babies open.”

Heather nods, a little distracted, a new idea forming in her head.

~

“The drone was a nice touch,” Paula observes as the three of them crowd around Heather’s laptop in her kitchen a few weeks later.

“Not mine. That was all Valencia.”

“Oh my god, I can’t believe Valencia’s engaged!” Rebecca’s squeal is exactly what Valencia seems to want, she just beams all the brighter. From within the camera, Beth seems amusedly resigned, leaning her head on Valencia’s shoulder, admiring the ring.

“Well, since you have your girls on the line…” says Beth, and Heather smirks, the only woman of the lot of them who knows what’s coming, as Beth disappears out of their sight line, and emerges with a small velvet black box of her own.

“Oh my god!” Valencia’s squawk has all three of them jerking away from the laptop, but the general cacophony from Paula and Rebecca more than make up for it.

“A double proposal!” Rebecca’s grin is so wide that Heather’s own face aches in sympathy.

“Valencia, Valencia stop shaking me, I have a whole speech prepared, and I know it’s not a flash mob in Times Square—”

“I don’t care!” Valencia shrieks. “How did you—when—”

Beth laughs, giddy with adrenaline.

“Thank Heather,” she says, her voice clear even over the faint buzzing of the drone. “I called her for advice, and she didn’t give me any details, but she did say that if I wanted to propose, I might want to consider keeping the ring in the apartment. Preferably under the bed.”

“Heather!!” Valencia glares at her across the country, mascara running, but the smile on her face is impossible to repress.

“Told you I’m romantic,” says Heather mildly, but still smiling, pleased.

“I know,” says Valencia. “Thank you.”

She turns back to Beth. “But I thought you wanted a private proposal. Everyone’s watching us right now—”

“I did, and I’m glad I got one. But you’re not me. Valencia, you are a sun, and you draw all of us in your orbit—”

There is more, but Heather can barely hear any of it, between the screamlets coming out of the laptop and the shrieks echoing around Rebecca’s kitchen. Rebecca is punching Heather’s arm and saying something about she knew Heather was secretly a romantic at heart, she just knew it, and Paula is looking misty again, but Heather only has eyes for the two women on the other side of the screen, wearing rings and embracing so tightly it’s like the drone isn’t there at all.

What? She said she’s a romantic.

[odioart]

Do you know about obnubilant?

 Long story short, he started his brand about a year after I started Odio. And I did not mind about that like at all. But one of the first things he did was rip off these edits my friend and early partner in odio was doing at the time. After he left the brand to do his own thing, and have his own page. (Atom-art) was his tag name. So another artist that we were both friends with asked him (Clarence /Obunbilant) straight up if he knew who Odio was, and he was like no.. and that’s cool. Not saying everyone needs to know my name or anything. Not asking for a ring to be kissed or anything like that lol. That would be pretty messed up. So don’t think that was the issue. It was what happened next that made me kind of not really care for the guy. When I did a friends search on my FB page he def came up in my friends list. Had been there for at least a few months if not longer. So I deleted him. I just thought it was pretty fucked up how this dude never heard of me, but like ya know was following me for god knows how long. Was even copying the same hashtags I use… On top of making edits painfully similar.  It was head scratching for sure. So anyways; flash forward. He does his thing and I do mine. I am not really a person that goes after drama or wants to call people out or anything. On top of that.I have copyright permission to produce these works so I really don’t care what others do. Then like a year ago a friend of mine I guess stumbled on his FB page, and I guess it kind of pissed him off and he called him out for being an “odio ripoff” and Clarence had the audacity to say I was the one who had stolen his style. Funny because all I had to do was find a couple super old pieces that he pretty much blatantly copied. Took about 2 mins of digging. As well I finally made a post about him on my personal fb page. To where people came out (other artists and page admins), and told me after the fact  “Yes he is LIKE this” and that everyone just sort of puts up with his crap because his pages have such a reach, and they kind of use him for that. That actually made me kind of feel bad for the guy. So after that I just stopped thinking about it or doing anything about it. Like why should I? As far as I know I am the only person in this scene who has permission to make these kinds of works and produce them. I have already got my work out in the real world. In galleries and shows. I am already doing interviews and getting artist representation to sell to collectors. Already working a deal out with Viz to use these works in promotional content in the future. And this is only a 3 year old project. That was always my short term goal. And so far it has been going as planned.  So If this guy or anyone else want’s to make edits in this style cool, it is not really going to take anything away from what I have already built. Sadly unlike others tho. I cannot really support this dude, or try to help them, or like care enough to even pay attention.  Because this guy just simply cannot be trusted like that, and I find that really sad, but it is what it is.I would rather not trash the guy or go into detail but I am not gonna lie about it either. Dude has more than once proven himself to not be someone who is trustworthy to me, and ultimately that is what I think about him, and I have stated why I think this. Other than that. I do not really much want to talk about, it and let him do his thing. He has good numbers on his fb page. More than mine even, and his edits are pretty nice. But, I still think the dude is a pretty sad and kind of pathetic person. That is what I think. The sad thing is if he was not such a dick about everything I would have probably  offered him a job once we start making these kinds of works commercially because I want to put a team together to mass produce, but I will go with Tag and a couple other guys instead. Thanks for yr question btw. In the past I have wanted to call this guy out several times on here , but never wanted to just blast someone for something so dumb as anime edits, and ultimately I always kind of feel sorry for him. He just wants to be accepted. He just goes about that in a totally unethical way, but that is his choice, and that will come back and bite him eventually. I do not have to waste my time or energy on it. However this question gave me the chance to talk about it, and I appreciate that. Just please keep in mind this is not a call to go out to fuck with the dude. Or give him bad reviews or anything like that. Just leave him alone, let him build what he wants. Let him enjoy his popularity. He is the one that has to live with himself, and if he is fine creating things on the backs of others, and take credit then that is fine with me. Not really trying to get bent over it. I wish him the best on a personal level, but I also wish he would stay far away from me. 

[medschoolash]

I don’t remember a lot because that’s how drunk I was that night. I was a junior in college. I went out with some friends for a good time at one of the off campus bars. I drank too much. I would blame myself for this for a long time.

Just before he walked into my room I remember being In my apartment on my bed with my head spinning. I remember feeling nauseous. I remember texting a guy friend and apparently telling him to come over to “hangout”. That text message, which would have probably been met with regret the next day, ended up stopping my sexual assault and preventing what would have been my rape. The guy was an associate who had been coming on to me for a while but I rejected him every time. He always made my uncomfortable but I tried to suck it up because we shared mutual friends. He was out with us that night and saw how drunk I was. From what I remember He followed me to my apartment. I didn’t lock my door. I would blame myself for this later as well. I remember looking up and seeing him in the door frame of my room. He said I texted him to come over. I didn’t. I remember being too drunk to feel immediately afraid. Something else I would blame myself for later. I remember him being on my bed and his arms being around me and I remember the uncomfortable feeling of saliva on my lips that I didn’t like. I remember the weight of his body on me and not being able to process what was going on but pushing him off me with my arms because I knew that whatever was happening wasn’t something I wanted. The rest is a haze, I don’t remember what else he did but I know I wasn’t raped, he may have violated me in other ways but thankfully I have no recollection of it. I probably wouldn’t be able to cope if I did remember it. The next thing I remember is being on my bed and his voice telling the guy friend I had invited over to leave. I would learn later that the had came over like I asked him to and entered thru the door that I apparently purposely left unlocked. Apparently my assaulter wanted to be left alone so he could rape me, thankfully my male friend was decent enough to not enable him despite their friendship.

I remember hearing “she drunk” then hearing some variation of “nah she good she good”. I remember his irate voice when my friend told him to go. My memory stops soon after this, the last thing I can recall is the feeling of relief I felt once he was gone despite being too drunk to cry and the way I vomited in the small trashcan near my desk shortly after and just before I finally passed out on my bed. The next day I remember feeling incredibly confused, embarrassed, and angry. I told one of my closest friends thinking she would empathize with me since she was my friend and cared about me. She showed minor discomfort but then told me that my “story” isn’t what he’s saying happened. Apparently he anticipated word getting out about what he did so he told his teammates that I had invited him over and wanted to hookup. That I came on to him and then backtracked when my friend showed up and started drama between two homeboys. I was hurt, appalled and afraid I would be branded a hoe and no one would believe I was assaulted and almost raped. It didn’t help that my friend basically told me that I shouldn’t have gotten so drunk. She blamed me. Letter her boyfriend and some of his fellow teammates would do the same. See he was a college athlete. Football to be exact. He wasn’t a star, he barely had a spot on the team but being on a major NCAA team that had won a national championship two years prior gave him an ego boost and made him feel invincible despite his lowly status on the team. In fact he may have been cut by then, I can’t remember but even if he was he was still very much a part of the powerful system known as college football at a big school that generates millions of dollars for the school and the state yearly. The system may not have covered up his actions, I was too confused and afraid to even report the crime, but it did enable his behavior. His narrative was already out there and it all felt unconquerable for a victim who was partially in denial about being a victim because of self and outside shame.

His teammates/former teammates knew what he did to me. They knew he was a creep before and after me. They didn’t care because it was my fault for being drunk. They didn’t care because it was convenient for them to believe that I invited him over. They didn’t believe me because they were athletes and of course girls wanted to hook up with them. Despite my attempts to make them understand that I was taken advantage of and while drunk almost raped they didnt care because because I couldn’t have been too drunk if I remembered what happened. They weren’t gonna turn their back on their “brother” no matter what and it made me feel powerless and ashamed. I remember feeling like it was my fault for a long time because when you hear it enough you start to believe it. I remember feeling like a whore despite the fact that I was actually still a virgin at the time of the incident. I remember how I got nauseous and angry every time I had to see his face but I had to suck it up because my “friends” continued to hang out with him and I still blamed myself so I was too confused and weak to understand that these people weren’t truly my friends and that I had the power to remove myself from the same circle of my assaulter. I remember how he would avoid me anytime he was around me. Despite his justifications he knew what he did was wrong and he had no right to still share space with me. I remember the night I cried myself to sleep because my on again off again ex boyfriend (we were off at the time of the incident) who knew about my assault pulled up in front of my apartment building in his car after a night of partying together. I remember how worthless and alone I felt that night because the person I loved was unfazed by another guy violating me, so unfazed that he still considered him a friend and participated in shaming me when I confronted him about why he would still associate with him. Eventually I think I became numb. Somehow I blocked it all out of my memory for years and never considered myself a victim but I know better now. What was some obscure thing I could barely recall in part due to some unhealthy coping and because I believed I wasn’t a victim but instead someone who brought it on myself, became a vivid memory again when I watched a lifetime movie where a young girl was shamed by a school football team after she was raped. Something I never talked about suddenly became something I wanted to open up about because women across the globe are sharing their stories on twitter via the #MeToo hashtag. I’ve never opened up about this in this much detail. Not even on my twitter page where I briefly talked about it. My family doesn’t even know what happened. I was too terrified of their questions to even post “me too” on my Facebook page. I guess letting it all out here is sorta like therapy for me. Getting it out of my head and making it real, finally standing strongly amongst the voices of victims, something that was denied to me and that I denied myself when I was shamed immediately after my ordeal. I googled my assaulter today and apparently he gave his life to God and is now a minister. I know a lot of people won’t understand this but I’m actually happy to hear that. I hope that he admitted to God what he did to me and asked for forgiveness and that he truly has turned his life around. I know everyone doesn’t believe in God but I do. I would prefer to have unwavering belief in his transformative power verses the alternative which is resigning myself to the belief that the guy will always be a monster. At least if he has turned his life around it means another woman won’t have to potentially have a story of being a victim at his hands. I’m not broken because of him so I’m my mind it’s better to have two people walking this earth seeking wholeness instead of two messed up people, one broken and one still victimizing. It kinda gives me closure and peace in some weird way. If anyone reads this and relates I hope it helps you feel like you aren’t alone. It wasn’t your fault. There is peace after abuse.