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sikayeto · 3 months ago

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I Own U

☠︎︎ ⋆₊ ♱☠︎︎ ⋆₊ ♱☠︎︎ ⋆₊ ♱☠︎︎ ⋆₊ ♱☠︎︎ ⋆₊ ♱☠︎︎ ⋆₊ ♱☠︎︎ ⋆₊ ♱

[ simon "ghost" riley x reader ]

[tw: suicidal ideation, suicide attempt, accidental narcotic overdose, dub-con]

[summary: you owe ghost, technically.]

☠︎︎ ⋆₊ ♱☠︎︎ ⋆₊ ♱☠︎︎ ⋆₊ ♱☠︎︎ ⋆₊ ♱☠︎︎ ⋆₊ ♱☠︎︎ ⋆₊ ♱☠︎︎ ⋆₊ ♱

You’re not depressed. You wouldn’t call what you have, depression. Sometimes afflicted with a melancholy so strong that you become catatonic. That’s called catatonia. Not depression. You’re not suicidal either. No matter what the base shrinks try to imply. Suicidal means that there’s intent to commit suicide. That there’s a plan to harm yourself. And yeah, jaywalking into busy traffic seems really nice once in a while, but that’s hardly a plan. Just because you crave a sweet treat doesn’t mean you go get one.

But every now and again, you do get a treat. Maybe it was a really hard day, and the bakery is on the way home. Or somebody brought treats to share at the office. Perhaps a coupon finds itself in your email.

A burlap sack over your head, kidnapped by enemy combatants, isn’t what you would constitute as a treat.

Hands are tied behind your back with rope. Scratchy fibers rub against the skin of your wrists. You don’t know where you are, or where they’re taking you. Dragging you by the armpits, your senses are dulled. Pulsation reverberating in your eardrums. Blood rushes through your limbs, leaving a tingling sensation. The amygdala has taken command, and not a single legible thought runs through your brain. All energy and control is being redirected to try and survive.

A blunt force and ache bloom in synchronization on your knees, as you’re pushed down on them. Bright, white light invades your vision, and you squint in an attempt to adjust. The last person you thought you would see in front of you, is Ghost.

Unlike yourself, he’s sat on a chair, his own wrists tied behind his back. There’s shoddily wrapped gauze around his right forearm and abdomen. A dark shadow slowly creeps to engulf each count of thread in contact. The lieutenant’s eyes are haggard and unfocused. As they focus on you, they widen and his pupils become pinpoint. Realization strikes him as the bag was removed from your head. You don’t know him outside his position, but somehow, he knows you.

A cold metal is pressed to your temple, and a chill shoots through your nervous system. You didn’t need to look to know there’s a gun against your head.

“Talk, or they die”, the voice’s origins didn’t matter. Whoever was pointing the gun at you didn’t matter. If you played this right. Everything was going to be okay.

The lieutenant’s gaze on you is unwavering. His stare is uncomfortable. You're a nobody in the chain of command. Why the hell is he looking at you like that?

There are 2 hostiles in the cellar you and Ghost are being held captive in. Both are armed. No doubt they’re high-strung considering the guest they’re currently hosting. Despite his current state, it doesn’t diminish the feeling of danger that wafts off him. Just because the tiger is caged, doesn’t make him any less dangerous.

Regardless of the beast barely restrained, your last minute plan can still come to fruition. It’s unlikely that they have another base analyst kept hostage at this location. Grabbing you was risky enough. So you're their only leverage. These men were desperate, and desperate men make mistakes. Whatever information they want from Ghost, they have to get it before he loses consciousness, or bleeds out. Neither of them look to be in good enough shape themselves to have seen a medic. The amateur bandages on your superior officer look rough at best. This wasn’t a prolonged stay then. Ghost must know that too.

Okay, this looks like the last bus stop. Really, you’re the only one who pushed the stop button and needs to get off.

You fling your whole body and weight to the person holding the gun to your head. Small you may be, physics is on your side, as he wasn’t prepared to retaliate against your sudden exertion. A shot is taken, and misses. Ringing overcomes your ears. The lack of expectation as he was body slammed, means that your target couldn’t soften his fall. The back of his skull audibly cracks as it impacts with the concrete floor. Blood pools from the fount of the vessels that crowd his occipital.

Simultaneously, as you took action, Ghost moves his enormous frame with wretched oppression towards the other hostile. Chair and all. Wood flies all over the surrounding area. Ghost breaks free of his restraints, and for a man who’s been shot twice, he moves as if it never happened at all. There’s a wet squelch that repeats in the same rhythm as your heartbeat. Flesh and bone, pounding upon flesh and bone. Fury, wrath, and rage concentrated into one man’s fist and colliding into another man’s face. Asteroids and celestial bodies crashing into each other.

A moment passes, and the only thing you can hear besides the ringing, is Ghost’s panting. You make an observation of your current situation. 2 hostiles down. 1 friendly injured. You’re still alive.

Mission failed.

From your prone position on the ground, you attempt to sit yourself up. A sharp, stabbing pain pulses through your left ribs. You press a hand against the area and pull away to reveal blood. Your blood.

He didn’t miss after all.

The adrenaline is wearing off. You can tell because suddenly your whole body is engulfed in agony.

The ringing is the only thing you can hear now. You think you hear someone yelling your name, but it’s muffled. Darkness creeps into your vision, an oncoming fog. Eyelids flutter shut.

You get off at the last bus stop.

___

The months following your subsequent kidnapping and near fatal death were, strange, to say the least. After waking at the base med bay, The doctor debriefed you on what happened after you had passed out from blood loss. The Lieutenant had radio’d for immediate med-evac. They said it was a miracle that you survived, having lost far too much blood. You should’ve been dead by the time the medics got to you. But Ghost had kept enough pressure on your gunshot wound to further prevent your precious life from slipping out of your body.

Yeah fucking right, a miracle. It would’ve been a miracle, if you had actually managed to die that day. Now, you were suffering with a hole in your thoracic and a chance of getting addicted to opioids.

When you were deemed stable and out of the woods, they put you back on desk duty. No rest for the wicked, especially not in the military. Fellow analysts give you pitying looks and their well-wishes, but none of them actually want to help. That’s the nature of the job, you can’t blame them. But in a community where, even if you get shot, no one helps. It’s a wonder more of the analysts aren’t suicidal.

3rd week post op, you wake up with excruciating throbbing in your wound. Taking more than the recommended daily dose of opioid analgesics, before you make your way to your station. The pain is dulled, but the side effects of the oral morphine you just took are hitting hard. Bones like fragile glass. Muscles that can barely twitch. Vision that starts to blur as your eyes glass over, staring at the ineligible words on your computer screen. It’s getting more difficult to take deep breaths, your chest is too heavy. Lay your head down on your desk. No one will blame you if you take a nap.

Your short slumber is interrupted by the shaking of the foundation beneath you. An earthquake? Raising your head slightly to figure out what’s going on, you see it’s not a natural disaster, but a man made one. Ghost, is stomping his way over to you.

Any other day, he would’ve looked absolutely terrifying. But today, you were hopped up on morphine, providing you the sweet sweet bliss of pain relief. Also, effective for pain in the ass Lieutenants who foil suicide plans.

He stands over you, full of imposition and menace. Giant of a man, used to getting what he wants by showing off the privilege and brute force of his stature. Mustering all your strength, you open an eyelid to look up at him. Your singular glass eye, meets his set of an endless abyss. He gives you a once over, and there’s a look of recognition. It’s pity. He’s pitying you.

Blood rushes from your head, as your whole being is lifted into Ghost’s arm’s, bridal style. You squint at him in confusion, unable to complete any words of incredulity, much less sentences. He leaves the space the same way he entered. Imposing presence and thundering boot steps. Now, with cargo.

He brings you to, what you assume, are his quarters. Places you on his bed, and tucks the covers over you. Tobacco and gunpowder flood your nose. It fills your lungs, and infiltrates all your senses. Your mind drifts, and imagines standing in a battlefield, smoking a cigarette. Engulfed and sinking into the mattress. Surrendering to the warmth and comfort.

Ghost kicks off his boots, and strips down to a shirt and pants. He joins you under his covers, and mirrors your fetal position, facing you.

Your memories of what happened, during these moments, are fuzzy. The extra dose of morphine you took, peaked at this time. Nothing felt real. Not you, lying in Ghost’s bed. Not Ghost, lying next to you. And certainly, not the one-sided conversation Ghost has with you.

“You were bloody reckless,” he murmurs, “Think I didn’t recognize the look in your eyes?”

He places a hand on your throat, and his other pressed to your wound. His eyes burrow into your half asleep consciousness. This is just a dream to you. And in this dream, Ghost squeezes your throat and wound with prejudice.

“You don’t want your life, that’s fine.”

Maybe this isn’t Ghost after all. Maybe this is a figment of your imagination, and the reaper chose to take this form. The last person you see, delivering your soul to the afterlife. If there even is one. You would discover it soon enough. There’s no reason for Ghost to rationally be acting this way. So maybe this is the fever dream that people have before they die. Maybe you are overdosing on the morphine you took.

He lightens the force against your body.

“I’ll have it then. As far as I’m concerned, if you don’t want it, then it’s mine.”

He releases the places where his threat was once imminent, and wraps his arms around you. Pulling you to be smothered by his own large chest, your head under his chin. As the dark fibers of his shirt enter your vision, so leaves your will to be awake.

tbc

#simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x you #ghost x reader #ghost x you #cod x reader #simon riley #cod ghost #cod ghost x reader

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neiptune · 1 year ago

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surreal, but nice

cw: 7k wc, female reader, strangers to lovers, osamu doesn't exactly know how to handle one of the most famous music artists in japan suddenly popping in onigiri miya, inspired by notting hill, my sappy entry for the romcom collab hosted by @bloompompom! thank you @yellow-sword-lily, this fic is also a little yours :)

Miya Osamu is a creature of habit.

He gets up fairly early, showers, never leaves the small apartment without fixing himself a nutritious breakfast, more or less knows and is therefore prepared to what to expect from each particular day.

Downstairs there’s his beloved shop, a dormant creature he gently stirs from sleep each morning. When he doesn’t have to head to the market to select and order the freshest products, Osamu starts the day by contacting all his suppliers and arranging the deliveries. He then checks the inventory, reviews reservations, welcomes the only other chef to discuss any special preparations or new experiments. It’s not unusual for him to check his emails, monitor the website and official social media of the shop, the one thing he actually hates doing because he knows damn well one negative comment will ruin his day, especially since there’s nothing he can do to rectify mistakes made days, sometimes weeks before.

He has a chef, one dishwasher, three servers, two food delivery drivers and that’s about it. Osamu Miya is the owner, manager, host, executive chef, server and cashier of onigiri Miya. He juggles management skills, culinary talent and business acumen just perfectly. He’s prepared and knows exactly what each day has in store for him.

Until you happen.

Osamu has been cooking for almost three hours by the time the shop officially opens at 11AM. It’s not unusual for new faces to come in from time to time, despite his clientele being more or less established, but it is rare to hear the little door chime ring so soon. Except if his dumb brother happens to be in town.

But you’re not his dumb brother. You’re a new and yet strangely familiar face, even hidden behind thick sunglasses and a beret that one could deem more appropriate to a parisian getaway rather than a Kansai one.

“Morning” you offer a little bow, hesitant by the door “you’re open, right?”

“Uh, sure” he smiles, still a little uncertain after a moment of astonishment “I don’t often have clients for breakfast. What can I get ya?”

“I’ve been told this is the best onigiri shop in town. I’ll let you decide”

You seem to consider your options for a moment, then decide to sit at the closest empty table. Osamu would usually provide more than a nod: he’d make conversation, ask questions. Forming bonds with whoever visits his shop and trusts his food is his favorite part of the day, as well as a great activity to engage in while his hands are busy putting the rice into molds.

“Close that mouth” is the only thing he utters under his breath, glancing at the server who set your table “yer catching flies”

“But it’s her!” Hiro squeaks as silently as humanly possible “I’m gonna ask for an autograph”

“You will do no such thing”

“We could hang it in the shop!”

“Go help in the kitchen, Minato called in sick today. I’ll handle this”

Hiro disappears behind closed doors but only after batting his freakishly long lashes to his boss, a heartbreaking disappointed look on his face.

Osamu takes a deep breath and squeezes the molds together, an action executed as gently as possible to keep the fluffy texture that makes his onigiri the best in town.

He knows you, of course he knows you. Not only your face was on any available surface for the entirety of the previous summer (posters, billboards, magazine covers to advertise your first ever concert in the Koshien stadium), he’s also pretty sure in high school Atsumu had perpetually ruined the walls of their shared room with some crappy adhesive squares used to hang your poster.

Osamu is not really a dedicated listener, he knows a couple of your most famous songs and that your success is damn near planetary. You have a house in Tokyo but spend most of the year in America, California if he recalls correctly, and you tour across Europe as well. Yet, it’s been easy to pick what to serve you. The gourmet options such as salmon roe or roast beef are off the table: they don’t make new clients feel special. What new clients need is a taste of authenticity, something that reminds them of home, and don’t you look just like the kind of person who could use some of that?

Osamu decides on pickled plum, tuna mayo and bonito flakes. One serving usually consists of three onigiri but he can’t resist adding an extra treat for you, a tenmusu onigiri. He’s recently perfected the recipe with an egg-free tempura batter that is still thick enough to absorb his special sauce.

He hopes it’s not creepy that he lingers by your table after he brings your meal: celebrity or not, you’re a new client. And Osamu can’t resist observing the wander taking over customers who are unfamiliar with his kitchen, as soon as they take the first bite. He hopes you are no exception.

“If this is an onigiri” you lock eyes with him and smile, glorious, radiant “what the hell have I been eating until now?”

“Probably not the best in town” he grins, proud, a slight blush already coating his cheeks. Damn it, he’s tempted to turn the baseball cap once more, let the brim shield his awkwardness. But that would be totally lame.

“Is it a family business?”

“No. It’s just… mine”

You hum, busy chewing on another bite. Then you swallow and ask another question, invite him to sit eventually, then apologize because he’s probably busy (he is) and has things to do (he does) but this is never going to happen again for Osamu, because he’s not Atsumu. And so he sits and makes conversation like a normal human being that definitely isn’t obsessively dwelling on how beautiful you are, how different your voice sounds when you’re not singing, how much he’d hate for a client to come in and pop that bubble. Which is exactly what happens and he doesn’t like it one bit how you interrupt your chuckle, lower your head, hunch your shoulders in an attempt to hide. He doesn’t like that he has to excuse himself, call Hiro back form the kitchen, make conversation with Suzuki-san, listen while he describes all his latest hospital visits in horrifying detail.

You look at him from time to time, the quiet shop owner suddenly turned chatty sparks your curiosity. He’s skilled with his hands and genuinely interested in what the person who must be an habitué has to say. He’s attractive, too. Especially as he tries to disguise the occasional glances directed your way or the disappointment that flashes in his eyes when you get up and start collecting your things.

“Can I get the check, please?” you approach the counter, pretend not to notice his hesitation. Osamu decides against indulging in the “it’s on the house” cliche, opts for treating you as any other client. With the exception of a small discount you won’t even notice.

“That was the best breakfast I had in a while” you collect the receipt and put in your pocket.

“You should come back, then. To have another” Osamu cringes internally as soon as the words leave his mouth and Suzuki-san’s chuckle makes him want to dig a hole to disappear into. But you smile, despite probably having heard the corny line a million other times, and tell him that you just might.

It would’ve been perfect: a beautiful ending to a glorious encounter. It could’ve been. If only you didn’t turn around so abruptly, a small shriek echoing across the shop as you came face to face with Mai, the sudden sound and panic causing her to jump and spill the fresh iced tea from the jug in her hand all over your painfully clean, crisp, starched, white button down.

You both freeze, your mouth open in a silent scream, an horrified look in Mai’s eyes that would’ve been comical on literally any other occasion. Osamu wishes he would’ve went with the “it’s on the house” cliche.

“Oh my god! Oh god! It’s you! I mean, I’m sorry!” Mai’s voice comes out an octave too high “my god, I’m so sorry!”

“Well, this is great” you frantically grab a handful of napkins from the counter and attempt to dab the mess on your shirt “I have a meeting in half an hour!”

“Please, take my uniform! I will pay for the dry cleaning!”

“Actually” Osamu chimes in as politely as possible, trying his best not to let his anxiety get the best of him “don’t take this the wrong way but, uh, I live upstairs. You can get cleaned up and…”

“You’re kidding, right?” your astonished look is almost glacial. It makes him falter just slightly.

“Or ya can leave with a giant orange stain on yer wet, probably uncomfortably cold shirt?”

“Miya-san!” Mai’s hiss and your shocked expression make him think that sarcasm probably wasn’t a good idea. Osamu sighs.

“Listen, I’m really sorry. These are the keys, you can go on your own, I promise the bathroom’s clean”

You eye him for a few seconds more, then decide against grabbing the keys from his hand.

“I’m gonna need a change of clothes”

Osamu blinks a couple times, dumbfounded. His clothes? You’re asking to wear… his clothes?

“Sure! Yeah, sure. Come on” now his voice sounds uncharacteristically squeaky and he clears his throat as you follow him up the stairs, Suzuki-san’s good grief still ringing in his ears.

Thank god he cleaned the entire apartment just the day before. As much as he likes to brag about being the tidy twin, deep down he knows he’s just as messy as Atsumu.

Osamu tries hard not to look at you, leaning against the doorframe with your arms crossed while he rummages in his drawers in search of something that could fit you. He shortly wonders if it’d be a good idea to offer a complementary bento box to make up for the disaster Mai caused.

“I’m genuinely sorry” he starts rambling because the silence is unbearable and some of Atsumu’s genes really do take over sometimes “the worst incident we ever had at the shop was my brother almost choking on his dinner. I had to perform the heimlich maneuver, it wasn’t pretty” god, where the hell are this clean, not embarrassing shirts?

“Guess this one will go down in history” your voice is less sharp now, which relieves him.

“Oh, no. I will never tell anyone about this, ever. Mai and Suzuki-san will have to sign an nda. A proper, legally binding one”

The laugh you offer sounds weirdly intimate in the small space of his bedroom, it makes the tips of his ears hot. Finally, he’s able to dig out a decent, basic shirt you accept by thanking him softly. When you lock yourself in the bathroom, Osamu rushes to the kitchen to tidy up the mess he’s left behind after that morning’s breakfast. No time to concentrate on how you’re actually, genuinely in his home, cleaning yourself in the same bathroom he showered in, without a shirt on.

No one’s ever going to believe him. Hell, he may not believe it himself by the end of the day.

“Hey” he jumps at your voice, sudden and closer than expected. You look good in his basic shirt, it suits you somehow. Did you shove your own in one of the bags you left by the door?

“Hey” Osamu says back and cringes for the millionth time “are ya hungry?”

You smile when he shuts his eyes for a second, right after the silly question leaves his mouth.

“Not hungry”

“Right. Of course. Thirsty? I have really good tea, from Shizuoka. And orange juice” he pauses for a second, then adds “or water”

Your smile grows, almost melts into a giggle. “Not thirsty either”

“Okay” he clears his throat “how about dessert? I made some mitarashi dango just yesterday”

“I have a meeting to attend”

“Oh. Sure, yeah, that makes sense” he wants to bash his head against the wall “I’ll walk you out. To downstairs” thank fuck ‘Tsumu isn’t there, he’d never let him live this down. Jesus.

You precede him to the door, gather your bags, then softly thank him for the shirt.

“Nice meeting you, Osamu” he nearly explodes when you say his name, no honorifics whatsoever. How do you even know? He hasn’t carried a name tag on his shirt for years.

“It was nice to meet you too” there’s no time to dwell on dumb, pointless questions “surreal, but nice”

He thinks if your smile could conjure waves, he’d gladly give up all the oxygen in his lungs and drown in them. Has someone ever looked as beautiful while smiling at him? He doesn’t think so. He can’t think. Not when you’re leaning closer, not when your arms are suddenly wrapped around his neck, not when you’re pressing your lips to his. Holy shit. You’re pressing your lips to his. And he’s forgotten how to breathe, let alone kiss. Osamu just freezes, like a marble statue, like a teenager who’s never touched a woman before. Right as he’s about to swallow the shock and fucking move, you’re already pulling away, eyes not leaving his despite the slight self-consciousness swarming in those irises.

And then you disappear, just like the dream he believed you were, all that’s left is an empty spot by the door and his heart slamming against a pathetically ill-equipped ribcage.

La Suite is one of the most luxurious hotels in the prefecture and Osamu feels out of place with the 30 onigiri order he’s carrying past a french restaurant and a traditional japanese one, all soft carpeting, dim lights and wide windows. So different from his.

He timidly explains that he’s there to deliver an order to a certain Bennet-san, who for some reason insisted he’d be the one bringing it to her hotel. They look at him funny but let him through and give the coordinates: top floor, superior double room. A woman meets him the second he steps out of the elevator and sternly asks him to follow her, a silly part of him wonders if he’s about to get murdered in one of the top 25 hotels in Japan. But then she knocks on a door right before swinging it open and he doesn’t even get to explain that he’s not supposed to get inside, she can take the bloody bag and he’ll be on his merry way, but once again Osamu fails to determine what the day holds in store for him.

Once more, it’s you. A less preppy version, one that seems so small in such a gigantic room, the sea breeze blowing from the terrace gracefully lifting up the hem of a tennis skirt you immediately fight to keep down as you promptly get up from the couch.

“Hi” he says, so dumbfounded he barely notices the door closing behind him.

“Miya-san” you bow, keep your eyes down, no sign of a smile he could by now deem familiar “I’m sorry for the trouble, I know the hotel is pretty far from the restaurant and you must be busy. This will only take a second”

Osamu’s brows furrow, confusion evident in the way he cocks his head. You don’t catch it, because your eyes are glued to the floor. “I wanted to apologize for my behavior. I don’t know what came over me, I hope you can find it in yourself to forgive me”

His eyes soften as part of the tension leaves his shoulders. Truth is, Osamu is glad you’re apologizing: despite how beautiful and dreamy you may be, life is not quite a movie and he doesn’t exactly appreciate being blindsided by a stranger. He doesn’t really understand what made you think kissing him would be a good idea (was his awkardness interpreted the wrong way? Did his stare linger on your smile a second too long?) but he’s certain you meant no harm. A shitty person certainly wouldn’t take time out of her day to leave an autograph on a napkin, especially right after half a jug of iced tea was spilled on her shirt just minutes before. To Hiro, with love.

After a moment, he clears his throat. “Can ya look at me?”

You meet his gaze hesitantly, mouth a thin line of harsh disapproval directed at yourself. For a second, you remind him of someone and he almost breaks into a smile.

“Thank you for apologizing. We’re good”

“Are you certain?”

“Yeah!” he chuckles “you didn’t have to place such a big order”

You blink twice, then start nervously fiddling with your fingers “ah, actually I didn’t do it to… well, those onigiris are just really good. I wanted to take some extra ones with me”

“You’re leaving?” he doesn’t mean to sound disappointed, especially not while you’re so intentionally keeping your distance.

“Kinda. My record label rented a house in the countryside, I’ll spend most of the summer locked in, trying to finish my new album. I couldn’t do it in America, I missed being home but didn’t want to endure Tokyo’s chaos so I ended up picking Hyogo. Sorry, you didn’t ask to know all that” you chuckle tensely “we leave tomorrow and I didn’t want to go without apologizing first. That’s all. You may go now”

Osamu hums. “I may go? As in I’m excused?” he laughs when your painfully stoic expression melts into sheer horror.

“No! Of course not, I didn’t mean it like that!”

“You take yourself too seriously” he grins “I’m just messin’ with ya”

“That’s not very nice of you”

“Would you compare it to kissing a stranger out of the blue?”

“Oh god” you hide your overheated face in your hands “you said we’re good!”

“And we are” Osamu steps closer to gently place the bags still in his hands on the marble topped pedestal coffee table. It’s just fun to tease you, one of the many irritating habits he shares with his brother.

His brother. Osamu looks up, a risky desire taking shape in his head and threatening to spill over the tip of his tongue.

“I’m really sorry, Miya-san” you repeat and he doesn’t love that you’re now calling him that “uh, this is your shirt. Cleaned and ironed. Thank you for…”

“Whatcha doing tonight?”

You freeze, paper bag still in hand. “Uhm, nothing interesting”

“No packing?”

“My manager does that for me”

He chuckles. “Right. Chances you’d want to spend your last night in the city at an even less interesting birthday party?”

Osamu waits patiently while you weigh your options, recognizes the confusion in your hesitant stare but doesn’t quite understand why there’s a weary vibration to your voce when you accept, the slight disappointment that flashes across your features.

It’s only fair, you think as he parts from the room with a smile and the command to secure those onigiris in a fridge. If showing you off to his friends like some valuable conquest is the way he wants to even the score, you’re in no position to deny him. You’re the one at fault and you’ve been given a chance to make up for it by wearing the facade you wear best.

Then why does it feel so disheartening, this time?

When Shinsuke opens the door, he’s more surprised by your presence than the carefully wrapped gift in your hands. Not that he doubted Osamu: why send a message to the group chat telling everyone that a) he was bringing someone and b) they should’ve absolutely not behaved any differently than usual if not better (in bold), if he wasn’t actually going to show up with a plus one?

Still, a small part of him did wonder if Atsumu’s and Rintaro’s relentless teasing finally got the best of him. Shinsuke doesn’t think that his friend works too much or that he should start “looking around” before “his hair starts greying again only this once naturally”. He remembers Osamu rolling his eyes at his brother when he implied that at this rate he’s gonna have to tie the knot with the restaurant, only to then space out for most of the evening as everyone else found new topics to migrate toward.

In short, Shinsuke wondered if Osamu was going to come up with a last minute excuse to justify the empty spot next to him at the table. But it seems that spot is going to be taken after all, by you nonetheless.

“Nice to meet you, Kita-san” you smile after Osamu introduces you by your name and nothing else, not a wink, not even a subtle hint or a reasonable explanation “happy birthday”

Shinsuke accepts the gift with a polite thank you and he’s almost made sure you could preserve a nice, normal memory of stepping foot into his house for the first time, of course failing to consider the Hinata factor.

“Thank god, Osamu, I’m so hungry- holy shit! Is her your gift? I only brought a cap that says farm hair don’t care!” there’s a strange but seemingly friendly redhead looking at you with eyes so wide you fear they might roll out of their sockets.

“Shoyo, any chance you checked the chat today?” Osamu smiles at him widely but Kita recognizes the tension at the corners.

“What? Of course not, I was busy picking a cute gift” Hinata smiles too but his excitement is genuine “hello, nice to meet you! Please come in, you can help us set the table!”

You chuckle and meet Osamu’s horrified eyes for a second, his posture relaxes as your gentle reassurance puts him at ease. I’ll be in the other room, then. Leave it to Hinata to make a gigantic deal out of a special guest only to treat her as one of his buddies ten seconds later. You seemed comfortable, though, as one always feels whenever Shoyo happens to be around.

“Who is she?” Shinsuke doesn’t mean for his tone to be so conspiratorial but he keeps it low, just in case you might still hear them.

“A friend. Kinda. Ya wouldn’t believe me” Osamu takes his jacket off and hangs it by the door, then picks up the plethora of bags from the floor and makes his way into his friend’s kitchen.

“No, I mean… who is she? Why does Shoyo know her?” Shinsuke follows suit, intent on helping him distribute all the food he’s brought in the different plates he has prepared. Osamu shakes his initial surprise off with a chuckle.

“Only one of the most famous pop music artists in Japan”

Kita stills his movements for a second, then absorbs the new information with a simple nod. “Right. And you met her at the shop”

“How d’ya know?”

“Where else would you be meeting a pop music artist?”

“Don’t make it sound so obvious” Osamu pulls a face and Shinsuke’s eyes twinkle with mischief.

“Well, she’s here. With you. Is it like… a date?”

“No” the peremptory answer comes embarrassingly fast “it’s her last night in the city, she’s here because she didn’t have anything better planned”

“But you invited her”

“Yes”

“Because you like her”

“I don’t-” Osamu gestures vaguely with his hands “it’s not like that. ‘Tsumu used to have a poster of her face in our room, for fuck’s sake”

Kita hums. “So what you actually mean is it can’t be like that”

“I don’t see the difference”

“I do”

“Well-” a loud commotion Osamu has been trained for over two decades to instantly recognize as his brother’s voice, makes the words die in his throat. By the time him and Shinsuke return to the colorfully decorated living room (courtesy of an overly enthusiastic Hinata and one resigned Rintaro), Atsumu is already talking your ear off and seemingly invading your personal space multiple times as he follows you around the table you’re setting with Suna like a golden retriever on a sugar overload.

“Shoyo, you were supposed to keep her safe” Osamu glares at his brother and takes a mental note to scold Aran too, later. For snickering.

Hinata doesn’t get the chance to defend himself because of course Atsumu’s the only one who could outshine that intense excitement with his own.

“Samu! What the hell? If this is yer gift to Shin, what are ya plannin’ to get me exactly?”

“Can everyone stop assuming she’s here as a thing and not as a person?” it comes out harsher than intended and Osamu feels his face grow hot when all those present simply stare at him. When you stare at him.

Suna clears his throat.

“Cut him some slack, he came out of the bathroom and we could barely convince him she’s not a hallucination” you chuckle at that, which makes the ever stoic Rintaro look away with a faint blush blossoming on his pale cheeks.

“Wait” Atsumu looks at you, then at his brother and his brows become progressively furrowed “she’s here with you? As in, you invited her? And she said yes?”

Osamu wonders why he thought a simple admonishment in the group chat would be enough. He has half an idea of shoving an onigiri right into his brother’s loud mouth and not perform any maneuver whatsoever when the rice obstructs his airways.

“Actually, I wanted to come” you chime in so gently it takes a few moments for him to register the words “I’m leaving tomorrow and when Miya-san mentioned it was one of his friends’ birthday, I shamelessly asked if I could tag along. Hope I’m not a bother”

Kita is looking at you the same way Osamu is, puzzled. Hinata almost chokes on his coke and starts coughing profusely, so much that Aran has to lend him a napkin.

“A bother? No, of course not!” his nose might be on fire but by god, he physically cannot let you believe such nonsense for a second too long.

Atsumu’s mouth hangs wide open, brows still knit that make his expression overall hilarious “you make her call you Miya-san? Yikes, bro” he turns to you and makes a scene of slamming a hand on his chest “please, feel free to call me ‘Tsumu. I think we’re intimate enough by now”

“Given that we took five selfies and you made me sign my name on your abs, I also think we’re intimate enough” your grin seems genuine, which only startles Osamu more.

“Ya made her do what?” oh, there are probably not enough words in the japanese vocabulary for the way he’ll have to apologize at the end of the night.

“It’s fine, I didn’t mind” you shrug “but if I could ask everyone a small favor…”

“Sure, anything!” Atsumu’s interruption only makes your smile grow wider “I’d really like to celebrate Kita-san’s birthday like you’d normally do. Please don’t make a big deal out of me, it’s his night after all”

“She’s asking not to be treated like a circus act” Aran whispers to Hinata, who blinks his big brown eyes in quiet understanding.

“Done!” Atsumu’s fist hits his chest right where the heart is as he solemnly declares “you’re one of the boys now, consider yourself a pal”

“Thanks, ‘Tsumu” he tries to keep his composure but nearly implodes as you direct your attention to Shoyo “no, Hinata-san, this doesn’t mean we won’t be taking that picture I promised. Don’t worry” your wink is the prettiest, most wonderful thing he’s ever witnessed and thank fuck he’s done drinking that coke because his airways suddenly feel clogged.

Kita thinks this is already the most entertaining birthday he’s ever celebrated.

And celebrate his birthday you all do. Normally, as per your request. You sit between Rintaro and Osamu at dinner and masterfully divert the attention from yourself whenever the questions start piling up. The uno reverse technique works well: your curiosity feels flattering and everyone is happy to satisfy it. The questions you direct are extremely specific, your laugh echoes alongside everyone else’s and Osamu can’t help but think that, in some odd way, you fit in seamlessly.

Keeping his eyes off of you isn’t but a strenuous fight with himself, it’d be lovely if looking would be the only activity he’d be allowed to engage in. It’s not hard to guess why hordes of fans and admirers are so enamoured: you’re such a natural. Polite, poised, funny, charismatic. Making you laugh feels like a privilege, having your brows raise in interest makes the story one’s recounting instantly fascinating. And yet you’re not doing any of that on purpose, he can tell. The one thing you’re being intentionally careful about is avoiding his gaze and making sure your arm doesn’t accidentally brush against his.

Osamu wants to ask himself why but also refuses to indulge in childish fantasies. What, he thought you liked him? Part of him believed you’d accepted to come to some stranger’s birthday party purely to spend an evening with him. Bullshit. Everyone in the world knows who you are and he simply owns an onigiri shop in Hyogo, one you happened to visit by sheer chance. He’s the guy you are so embarrassed to be seen with, you had to come up with a lie to justify your presence at the very same table that seems to adore you.

But when he jokingly throws a grain of rice at Aran, you hide your chuckle behind your hand. If he speaks, you always turn to look. Osamu doesn’t remember a social gathering where he tried to come up with just as many things to say, desperately conjuring genes that always weigh heavier in Atsumu. Unfortunately, the one person he could always count on, his dear friend and trusty supplier, decides his birthday night is the perfect occasion to stab him in the back.

“I’m sorry, I just need to ask” Kita refills your glass with fresh wine from across the table before retracting to his seat once more “your encounter with Osamu, how did it happen exactly?”

“Yeah, was his onigiri so good you wanted to-”

“Do not finish that sentence, Shoyo” Aran clears his throat as Suna, next to you, has a hard time swallowing his stir fry noodles.

“She heard my shop was the best in town, which it is, came to try it. That’s the story” Osamu wishes he could disappear into his kitchen as he often does when things at the restaurant get uncomfortable.

“I don’t buy it” Shinsuke shrugs “is that really the whole story?”

Kita’s knowing stare really hasn’t changed since high school and it seems you’re affected by it just as much as every other human. His eyes bore right into yours, trained to detect hesitation or even the hint of a lie, giving you no escape. Goddamn it, he’s still the team captain, there’s no running from him.

“Well” you gently swirl the glass in your hand, suddenly very much focused on the crimson liquid swooshing inside “I also kissed him”

This time someone does actually choke and, of course, it’s Atsumu. Right as Rintaro utters an ever quiet holy shit, he explodes in a coughing fit and Aran promptly strikes between his shoulder blades with the heel of his hand, perhaps with more force than needed. Thankfully, Atsumu manages to swallow his bite and, despite the tears threatening to run down his cheeks in all their shimmering glory, still conjures the energy needed to point an intimidating finger at his brother “ya bastard!”

“That’s a joke, right?” Hinata’s eyes have once again grown three sizes.

Kita doesn’t ask, the answer is written all over Osamu’s crimson red face. He was right, no one would’ve believed him.

“No, I really did” you take a sip from your glass and now everyone is looking at you like you’re some kind of alien. Except for Atsumu, who’s still glaring daggers at his brother.

“So this is… a date for you two?” Suna’s just as shocked as everyone else but seems to be the only person currently able to string words together.

“Oh, no” you brush the question off with a gracious wave of the hand “I just did it to thank him”

This time the silence stretches for a moment too long. Atsumu seems on the verge of passing out.

“You kissed him to thank him?” Kita cocks his head.

“Yeah. I mean, he was very kind. Have you never kissed someone to thank them?”

“Uh… no. I don’t think so”

“Really?”

“Do you…” Aran hopes to the gods that the words don’t come out the wrong way “do that often?”

“Aran” as much as Osamu wishes the earth could swallow him whole, he doesn’t want you to think his friends may be implying something they’re really not.

“I didn’t mean it like that!”

“It’s okay” you let our a nervous chuckle and because Osamu is sitting so close, he hears the shaky breath too “I know it was wrong. I tend to forget that’s not what normal people are used to. I apologized and now we’re good, right, Miya-san?” your eyes meet his and he feels his heart drop right into his stomach.

“Why are you used to that?” he asks instead of replying to your question and you just. Freeze.

“Yeah…” Hinata quietly chimes in “that doesn’t sound like something anyone should be used to”

For the first time, you don’t know how to respond. Osamu senses your panic, can read it in your eyes, but is too baffled to think of something smart or chivalrous to say.

“Holy shit, ya know what that means?” Atsumu slams both his hands on the table and both you and everyone else jump “it means she thinks I’m hot! In another life, I’d have a chance! Sorry, Shin, I know it’s yer birthday but I think this is the best night of my life!”

A quiet, astonished moment follows, then the table erupts in genuine laughter. You’re giggling so much you have to hold your stomach, Kita is shaking his head in resignation, Suna rolls his eyes with affection. Osamu settles for a smile as he relaxes against his chair once more. His brother may be loud and annoyingly inopportune, but his quiet support never once faltered throughout the years. One doesn’t need to be an old acquaintance to be taken under Miya Atsumu’s wing: if he senses as much as the hint of unease, his charismatic idiocy is summoned right away at the service of whoever may need it. Yet his loyalty remains unshakeable: Osamu knows that, in his stupid head, you’re already forbidden territory.

His mind is dizzy with confusion he doesn’t know how to properly address. As Kita blows out the candles on the cake he’s made, Osamu feels a wave of affection inundate his heart. He remembers that are nights like this that are worth being present, even if he has to get up at dawn or his sink is full of dirty dishes and he’s exhausted. Life only ever feels right when he’s with his friends or his family. It’s a routine he’s trained hard to get used to: work, work, work, carve out small moments to spend with those who come and go. It’s important for him to be there, when they come.

Osamu almost misses it, too focused on cleaning an extra plate or two in the kitchen, to make sure the birthday boy can get to relax once they leave. And then you call for him, a small crack in that poised facade of yours when his name almost slips out. You rush into the kitchen and urge him to hurry up, they’re already singing happy birthday to Kita-san. Come on, you’re missing it!

You probably wanted to go for his sleeve and found his hand instead, dragged him out of the room so quickly Osamu barely had the time to put the towel down. For some reason, once in the living room you don’t let go right away and neither does he. You only do so to clap with everyone else and even then it’s not entirely possible to establish who lets go first. Regardless, Osamu gives your hand a light squeeze and hopes you notice, despite there being no signs to indicate that.

You’re the first two people to excuse themselves: he refuses to let you go back to your hotel on your own, doesn’t give two shits that you have a driver or could well afford a cab because it’s a beautiful evening and Osamu is itching to have as little as ten minutes alone with you. He watches as you formally offer a hand to Suna and he grins as he shakes it, gently taking it in between his in a respectful attempt at suggesting that there’s no need to be so ceremonious.

You exchange quick hugs with everyone else, take the picture promised to Hinata, chuckle lightly when Atsumu timidly asks for a kiss on the cheek just because “it’s the american way of saying goodbye!” and of course you accomodate the request. Osamu is almost willing to bet you genuinely had fun but he also can’t seem to shake off the odd feeling suggesting you’ve somehow taken it upon yourself to just… appease everyone for the entire evening. Like some kind of duty. He doesn’t want you to think back to this evening like a task that had to be carried out.

“Oh my god, I cannot fucking believe it!” Atsumu’s shriek echoes loud and clear in the empty street as soon as Kita shuts the door and you meet Osamu’s exasperated glare.

“I’m genuinely not sure what I should start apologizing for” he runs a hand through his brown hair and his stress makes you smile as you fall into a comfortable walking pace.

“I should start by thanking you for inviting me. Can’t remember the last time I had such a normal night”

“My friends are many things but I don’t know if they really fall into the normal category”

You laugh at that. “I think they’re really nice. It was fun. I didn’t know there were two of you”

Osamu grimaces, lightly shaking his head “good call, he’s the thing I should start apologizing for”

“I liked Atsumu” of course you did, don’t they all? “you’re lucky to have such good friends and a brother. Is it true what they say about weird connections us twinless mortals wouldn’t get?”

He sighs. As much as Osamu hates stereotypes and all the disadvantages that come with not being able to be his own person, the curse of always being considered nothing but part of a set, he knows the bond with Atsumu is just as rare and irreplaceable as people make it out to be.

“Well, I can pretty much always read his mind. But it’s not a twin thing, s’just an Atsumu thing” he shrugs “most transparent, honest person on earth”

“You’re both very kind” your observation strikes him. It hits the nail on the head: he does his best but it’s unusual for someone to notice ‘Tsumu’s selflessness right away.

“Could say the same about ya” he’s eager to direct the topic to the thing he’s really interested in, the one person who refused every bit of attention directed her way throughout the night “that tea collection must’ve costed a fortune. Shinsuke loves tea, yer manager picked well”

You hum, gaze focused on your feet. “Actually, I picked it”

Another thing Osamu has in common with his brother, the ability to royally fuck up in such a short amount of time.

“Oh, I didn’t-”

“It’s okay, happens all the time”

“What happens?”

“People assuming things” you’re not mad, there’s just a sad vibration to your voice. If he could punch himself in the face, he would.

“I’m sorry”

“Don’t be” Osamu hates the smile you toss at him. He hates it so much he stops in the middle of the sidewalk and watches you turn around, confusion flashing in your disenchanted eyes.

“There’s a pretty cool park ‘round the corner. How about a detour? If you’re not too tired”

You hum in agreement, ask him to lead the way. Careful, Osamu, you’d like to say. This same polite regard is what got me in trouble the first time.

The park, which is more of a garden really, is a slice of eden in the jungle that any city inevitably ends up feeling like. Lowlands, an abundance of irregular but colorful flowerbeds that seem to glow in the dark, the warm air of the evening saturated with the sweet scent of lime trees, a gravel path you both follow all the way to a small, wooden playground. It’s only natural to gravitate toward the swings, relish in the comfort of the stillness the evening offers. It always feels like the earth rotates slower, pace decelerating to give you more time to enjoy the things it’s hard to appreciate during your hectic days.

Osamu approaches the swing like an old friend, takes hold of the chains with both hands. He lightly pushes off the ground with his feet while pulling back, giving you a perfect view of his perfect profile.

“I don’t want to assume” he says quietly “so is it okay if I ask?”

“Yeah” you rest your head on the chain you’re holding, still looking at him who won’t look at you.

“Why did you tell ‘Tsumu you asked me to come tonight?” the actual question dies in his throat. Were you that embarrassed of being there with me?

“You seemed pretty self-conscious. I didn’t want you to feel uncomfortable” and I guess that way, you got to seem cooler.

Osamu almost chokes on his own spit from how surprised he is by your answer. What the fuck.

“I wasn’t-” not for the reason you seem to believe “I didn’t want you to feel uncomfortable!”

You smile, patiently waiting for the moment where he’ll finally turn to meet your gaze instead of persistently staring at his feet. “I don’t think I ever felt that comfortable in a room filled with men”

“That shouldn’t be an exceptional occurrence”

“Right. But it is”

He spends a few moments trying to come up with the right words, a handful of seconds spent with part of his brain wishing he could have a talk with all the men who made you feel unsafe. How many? Where, why? Are they the reason why Osamu wants to get so desperately close and yet keep a respectful distance, not to scare you off, not to be another name added to the list of creeps you surely hate?

“Why did you kiss me?” those are far from being the right, considerate words he was trying to summon, but they bubble up from his throat before he can stop them.

You hum, pensive “I don’t know. You’re pretty, you’re gentle, I thought t’was what you expected to happen. It’s what men usually expect in return”

“In return for what?” he fights the urge to keep his eyes down, confident that the darkness will conceal the redness of his cheeks. You think he’s pretty and the first thing his dumb brain is able to link the revelation to, is Atsumu. Shit, he was right, this means you do find him attractive as well.

“Anything, really” your chuckle is devoid of actual humor “I know this night was supposed to make up for it but I didn’t expect to have so much fun. Regardless, I hope we’re even now”

Osamu furrows his brows.

“Ya think that’s why I invited ya?”

“Why else?”

He almost laughs, incredulous. You hide that mistrust really well, Osamu has to give it you. It feels unfair that life has given someone who seemingly has everything, so many reasons to think you can only be seen as an empty shell, some trophy with the sole purpose of being flaunted.

“You said you were leaving. I didn’t like the idea of not seeing you again”

“Really?” your lips curl into a small smile “the weird girl who jumped you on your first meeting?”

“You’re weird” he concedes “and selfless. Intelligent. Maybe jokes are not your forte but, hey, ya get to look like that” your laugh compliments his really well and Osamu can’t help but think he’d like to sit in a park, in the middle of the night, and talk and laugh and be with you just once more.

You briefly wonder if the man sitting so close to you is aware of just how devastatingly charming he is. Part of you wishes he’d want to take you out on a proper date, let you meet his friends on different occasions, include a weird stranger in such a well balanced life. Part of you also knows you’d never want to ruin that for him. Not for someone like Osamu. People who are unfortunate enough to stumble across you are almost always harassed away, it’s a life you’re used to and can’t bring yourself to run from. It’s who you are and, most importantly, all you have. It’d be too dangerous for your heart to desire anything different.

But he’s looking at you as if you’re the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen, land emerged from the sea millions of years ago for his eyes only to experience such a sight. No one’s ever looked at you with such wonder.

“I don’t want to assume” he holds your gaze locked to his, swing dangling lightly as he leans closer “so is it okay if I ask?”

“Yes” you utter a little too breathlessly.

“Can I kiss ya?”

You hum in affirmation and close your eyes, heart beating a little faster than what you’re used to as you sense his proximity. He smells nice, radiates warmth and his soft hair tickles a little when his lips gently press to your cheek.

Osamu smiles when he catches a glimpse of disappointment flashing over your features, the first of many clues he wants to learn how to interpret correctly. The cracks in a facade he’d make his personal mission to tear down.

“I know you have to go away tomorrow” he gently moves a strand of hair away from your forehead “but I wondered, if you didn’t, whether you might let me see ya a little. Or a lot, maybe”

You lean into his touch, calloused fingertips still barely grazing your skin.

“A lot sounds good”

#osamu x reader #osamu x you #osamu miya x reader #osamu miya x you #miya osamu x reader #haikyuu x reder #romcomcollab

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lexirosewrites · 3 months ago

Note

For slick sunday

I am once again asking you to imagine Scream Queen O!Steve & horror fan A!Eddie,

except in this idea/AU Eddie is the co host of a horror podcast similar to Dead Meat but it's called (u guessed it) Corroded Coffin, Eddie hosts & A!Jeff co-hosts & O!Gareth mostly works with the sound while A!Chrissy & B!Felix (unnamed freak who apparently has a canon name but idc I like the name felix & using this name made me realize gender things so it has special meaning for me now) ANYWAY Chrissy & B!Felix mostly handle research

Well they talk about all horror not just movies, they discuss books & they discuss other podcasts & of course they discuss movies. Eddie & Chrissy are slasher fans through & through, Jeff is more for the supernatural stories, when Gareth comes on an episode very occasionally he's an unrepentant fan of elevated horror like The VVitch, meanwhile if felix is on an episode it's explicitly because they're talking about cosmic horror OR horror coming out of east asia (felix is a Junji Ito devotee, as am I & yes this is me projecting onto a fictional character)

WELL their podcast is fairly popular, they're considered Z-list celebrities within popular culture maybe D-list amongst horror fans, the Corroded Coffin podcast has gone on tours & done live shows. they've even established a small podcast network they call Hellfire Club & expanded to making more shows: chrissy & felix host a folklore podcast, Jeff & a new guest every week have discussions abt the new expression of horror abt being a marginalized identity (i.e. being a black person in a white supremacist society or being a beta woman/omega in an alpha centric patriarchal culture)

Then one day their business email gets an inquiry abt a new movie coming out in the next year & the executive producer wants to know if they'd be interested in a slight PR stunt/limited podcast series around this movie.

The producer in question is one Jim Hopper, a known name who's only ever produced action flicks, apparently he's dipping his toe into the horror space bc his daughter & step-son r huge fans of the genre & encouraged him to take on a script he'd normally ignore.

The movie is called Strange Times On Main Street & it follows an ensemble cast tht r meant to b the residents of a dwindling town in nowhere Indiana in the early 1980s, the horror factor comes in when the different characters start to see things tht might not b real but all seem connected to an individual who has terrorized the town for decades, culminating in a town hall meeting where they're told there's nothing tht can b done; so the situation dissolves into an eerily quiet mob tht ends up hunting down this person & the movie ends abruptly with this guy being executed in broad daylight practically in the middle of Main street.

They agree right away. The gimmick involves Eddie & Chrissy acting like the hosts of a true crime podcast who are "interviewing" the people of the town supposedly years after the incident. Everyone is excited because there r some big names involved in the movie, most notably the undisputed scream queen Steve Henderson who got half of his fame from working his way up from among stunt doubles on action movies so he's known to do his own stunts.

Well, it's a fantastic process & absolutely everyone has a wonderful time & Eddie sort of bumbles his way thru the episode w Steve (whose character is implied to have been the one to kill the supposed antagonist) but Steve finds it cute & gives Eddie his number.

The movie does well & wins not only a Screamy Award but an actual Oscar. Steve even wins the first Oscar of his career for best omega man in a leading role. He kisses his date before going up to give his speech, who's his date you ask? Eddie Munson host of popular podcast Corroded Coffin

They announce their wedding & mating a month after the awards show

horror meet cute🥰

#slick sunday #steddie #steddie omegaverse #omega steve harrington #alpha eddie munson #steve x eddie #omegaverse #a/b/o #my asks

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objectheadzine · 2 years ago

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WELCOME TO THE 10TH ANNIVERSARY OF THE OBJECT HEAD ZINE!

In celebration, the 2024's edition will be a Grab Bag - draw whatever object head you like (so long as it fits the guidelines, see below). In Lieu of a theme, all submissions MUST HAVE ASHLEY (the megaphone mascot) in the piece! Feel free to make him as large or as small as you want in the composition. He can be hanging out with your characters or he can be on a flyer, just so long he's somewhere in the picture! Reference of all his outfits can be found here. But don't feel like you're restricted to his previous outfits. Feel free to dress him up in anything you'd like. Content is also free for whatever! You want to date the lil man? Go for it! You want to tease or go on the attack? Also fine! Ignore him and let him live his life? Sure thing.

ALL submissions will be accepted as long as they fit guidelines and each person has a limit of up to 3 submissions. Submit your pieces to the zine email objectheadzine(@)hotmail(.)com along with the email/website/name you’d like to be credited as. (Feel free to omit emails if that is more comfortable). When you’ve finished your piece(s), you are allowed to post them to your blogs as long as you link back to the zine blog! This will be a DIGITAL ZINE ONLY and will be available free upon completion (donation optional).

The guidelines are as follow:

Illustration-quality works in either digital or traditional mediums. Both colour and b/w acceptable; background required. *BG can be as simple as a pattern or colour block! Avoid utilizing a camera to submit your images, please use a scanner.

The default size will be 6″x9″, 300 dpi (1800px x 2700px) but feel free to go larger or smaller, so long as it follows those proportions. Please work in a vertical format.

For consistency’s sake, keep faces to a minimum (You can have eye(s) or you can have mouth(s) but don’t have both in a humanoid arrangement.)

Ashley, the megaphone head mascot, must be included in your piece. He can be small in the picture or a large factor but he must be included. When submitting, if he is not obvious, please point him out to me. References are found here.

Please go for original characters (or fanart of your friend’s characters) and not so much established object heads (e.g. the popcorn and soda heads from No More).

If you want to include humans, that’s fine as well but keep the ratio of people to object heads 1:1.

Content should be at most PG-13: Romance is fine but after-hours business should not be implied, Blood is fine but no gore. In the end, use your common sense.

Feel free to draw a comic or just an illustration! A comic counts as one submission.

Some facts about Ashley that could help with your piece: He's 5'2", he's of Chinese nationality, he's a TV show host, he's a bubbly, happy-go-lucky kind of guy and he has a Samyoed dog named Cotton!

Note that if a submission does not meet the above guidelines, I will either reject your submission or suggest improvements that would help your piece fulfill them. Please email me at objectheadzine(@)hotmail(.)com if you have any further questions and I’ll do my best to reply promptly. If you do not receive a message from me within a few days, please send it again. Final pieces submitted should be either in PNG or a one layer PSD file format.

Want to share your piece as you're working on them? Come on over to the Object Head Zine discord!

THE DUE DATE FOR SUBMISSIONS IS NOVEMBER 9TH.

#object head #object heads #object head zine #objecthead #objectheads #objectheadzine

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hopefulidiocy · 1 month ago

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Familiar Strangers

A/N Soft Aemond is cute.

Warnings: smoking, weed, drinking, lots of cursing

Modern Aemond x y/n

🥂🥂🥂🥂🥂🥂🥂🥂🥂🥂🥂🥂🥂🥂🥂🥂🥂🥂🥂

You knew it would be bitter, the end. You knew it would hurt, that storm of words, the horrific crush of your poor heart. You remembered staring at him in the dark moonlight, outside the Targaryen Headquarters, his hair was a shining halo and you watched as his eye never created any kind of emotion. You watched as he simply nodded at you, devoid, almost empty. The whole thing had barely touched him. The weeks that followed saw your once full, red and beating heart crack, split and crash towards the bottom of your abdomen. You would sit there, neck deep in tissues and tears as your mind roamed and dangerously closed in on his once beautiful smile, the radiance that poured from him when he saw you across a room. The blush that would rise into your cheeks and the way you smiled when he kissed you for the first time. All those beautiful memories now fazed with despair.

Four months after the break, you sat dressed in your workout gear after a particularly intense day and you scrolled to the edge, breaking that promise to yourself and pressing on Aemond’s Instagram handle. You scrolled, your eyes blurry as you noticed the most recent photo. It was a group post, initially made by the Starlight Magazine for Business but tagged Aemond. He was standing, wearing his statement black tailored suit, his hair the same as it had always been and that beautiful sea coloured eye so alert. You dragged your eyes to the woman next to him, an elegant figure dressed in a tailored gold dress with trims of diamonds handing from her waist. You zoomed into her face, noticing the picture perfect make up and those beautiful black eyes that stared directly into your soul. Shaking, almost hyperventilating, you shut down your phone, staring at the white wall in front of you, picturing nothing but Aemond. He was hidden in every corner, every space, every fucking room and you couldn’t hide from it. You just couldn’t get away from him and those shattered memories. A deep breath. In for four and out for four.

It’s fine, you thought. He can do what he wants, who cares? But who were you kidding? You cared. You cared so much. Why did he look so happy next to her? Did he really forget so quick? Who does that? What decent person does that? So many thoughts, so many memories spiralled you deeper into your sorrow.

The next day was your first day back at work, you took some time off for your heartbreak, not being able to face it. But Helaena needed you so you sucked it all up, Aemond hardly came into the office anyway so the likelihood of you seeing him was exceptionally slim. The day was warm, so a simple smart dress was the best, you stood outside the all glass compound, looking up at the dark green letters that spelt “TARGARYEN” and you sucked in the breath around you and entered.

“Morning, y/n,” Alys said, smiling, a clipboard in her arms, nestled into her chest, “good to see you.” You smiled softly, adoring Alys for that moment, she was always so kind to you. In your small box office, it was stifling so you opened the window ever so slightly to let in the air. The computer sat idle in front of you, you sank your back into the leather as you scrolled through the emails. A knock at the door had you knocking over your iced coffee. Helaena entered, a small smile on her face.

“Hey,” she said, sitting opposite you, “I’ve just sent you the email and I’m not sure if you’ve seen it yet but there’s a party. Aegon thought it would be good to host a large fuck off party to introduce the VELARION company into our corporation,” she rolled her eyes, taking a hit from her weed pen before continuing, “I’m gonna need you there.” Your breath hitched in your throat, you attempted to stifle the sigh that wanted to escape from deep within. You knew it would bring up the memories you simply didn’t need. But you were Helaena’s assistant, her only one, so you needed to be there so you nodded.

The night came quickly a fortnight after, you stared at yourself in the floor length mirror of Helaena’s apartment. You had finished getting her ready in a deep emerald fishtail dress, the dress you were wearing was a lovely short red dress that stopped just above the knees, your lips coated in red and your hair up in a messy bun. You shot some tequila, letting the burn fizz down your throat, you fucking needed it as the nerves were threatening to burst at the seams.

The room was glittered with chandeliers, music bounced off the tall walls, the chatter and laughter was loud and overbearing. You looked at the crowd, giggling and joking over flutes of champagne. This was not your typical scene. You stood awkwardly by the bar, clasping onto a glass of champagne that was thrust in your hands at the door. You could feel a shift. A change in atmosphere, a change in tone as you turned towards the entrance. Head and shoulders over the rest of the group, next to him was the dark brown haired fiancée, dressed in a tight emerald dress, his large hand on her lower back. The champagne disappeared down your throat, sending a whirl in your head as he leaned down to hear what she was saying and he smiled. Not just any smile. It was genuine. Fucking genuine. The kind he kept secret for you on those nights you spent in his warm bed. You’d spent months missing him and here he was, completely fine. The air was stale, condensing around you, you needed to leave. You grabbed your clutch, skimming through the crowds of people that murmured when you pushed them out of the way.

Outside, the air was beautiful and light as the moonlight beat down on you. You rummaged in your clutch, looking for that familiar square packet of cigarettes. Your heart thumping, your hands shaking as you lit it, inhaling that majestic smoke into your lungs, instantly feeling the warmth that filled your body. You waited there, leaning against the brick wall that enclosed the crowds of people and the music that thumped into the night air.

“Y/N,” you turned around slightly to see Aegon, his hands in his pockets as he was walking towards you, “do you have a spare cigarette?” You nodded, handing him the packet and watching as he plucked one from it. He pursed it between his lips and took a drag that had him sighing with relief.

“I hate these places,” he admitted, hitching one leg up on the brick behind him, “I don’t see why Rhaenyra is needed here but I can’t have my father’s company going to shit.” He smirked sadly as he took another drag. You didn’t know what to say so you looked towards the stars, it was a clear night. Then, just as your cigarette reached the end of its life, familiar footsteps echoed on the pavement.

“Aegon,” that beautiful vibrato that had you flushed. You slowly looked over your shoulder, seeing him standing there stoic and cold… beautiful. He didn’t look at you immediately. But when he did you could’ve sworn there was a change, a shift that had the earth on a tilt, he stared at you, his Adam’s apple bobbing hard as he swallowed. Your skin set alight as you watched him standing there, idly and straight into your own eyes. “You’re needed, Aegon.” He said, switching his eyesight to his older brother. Aegon sighed, smashing his cigarette under his black shoe, throwing you a nod goodbye as he disappeared into the building. Aemond stood there awkwardly for a moment.

“It’s good to see you, y/n,” he said, his voice soft like a flower. You shot him a gentle smile, nodding in acknowledgment and turned away from him. He stood there for a moment before walking away.

A few days after you were left reeling from Aemond’s presence, you sat in your office chair, taking a bite out of your sandwich and looking through your emails, jotting down what else is needed. A knock on the door startled you, you swallowed your food and beckoned them in. Your breathing instantly stopped as Aemond Targaryen strode into the room, shutting the door behind him. You swallowed harshly as he stood there, idle and looking deeply into your eyes.

“Mr Targaryen.” You said, crossing your arms tightly across your chest.

“Y/N, please, just call me Aemond,” he said, his voice surprisingly soft. You surprised yourself as well with the instant anger you felt shoot through your body. You decided to ignore it.

“Is there anything I can do for you today?” You reached for your notepad, readying yourself mentally for some wedding preparations he was doing. He sighed, slipping his hard harshly down the side of his face.

“I wanted to talk to you,” he pointed to the opposite chair and you nodded, allowing him to sit. The sight of him had your eyes slightly blurring.

“What is it?” You sighed, dropping the pretend business voice and sitting back in your comfortable chair.

“I miss you,” you couldn’t help the chuckle that emitted from your throat, “I really do, y/n.”

“You are getting married, Aemond. I’m not quite sure why you’re here.” You shrugged, playing with your black pen.

“Alena was an arranged marriage, it was done way before my father’s death. I thought I had escaped it when I met you but, alas, my mother had different plans,” his eye dropped with sadness, looking anywhere but your face, you opened your mouth to speak until he spoke again, “I’ve cut it off, Aegon helped me.” You were a fish out of water, your mouth moving but nothing coming out.

He stared at you then, his eye gentle and striking you back to those times he would look at you in his bed or across the dinner table, those times when you felt loved and seen under his wondrous gaze.

“What do you want, Aemond?” You didn’t mean for your voice to edge on icy, it took him aback ever so slightly, you saw it in the way his eye flickered.

“I’m sorry, y/n. For ending it like that,” he said, clasping his hands across his knee which was propped on the opposite leg, “I felt if I did it coldly, you would get over me quickly,”

“That’s so fucking stupid,” you chuckled darkly, shaking your head, “I loved you, fuck sake, I love you still, Aemond, it’s so unbelievably hard to get over you, this, us.” Your eyes threatened to spill over, but you inhaled so deeply you felt your eyes quiver.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered,

“It’s going to have to take a lot more than that, I may not be over you but I’m not a doormat, I will not fall back into those depths again and be left at the edge of a cliff.” Your voice led into a whisper, your voice shaking as you watched for a reaction. You got nothing.

“I know, y/n, I want you to trust me again, I want you to forgive me and I know it’s hard. God, it’s fucking hard. But I will do whatever I can to bring you back to me, if that’s what you want?” He leaned forward slightly,

“I want it, Aemond. But it’s going to have to be a lot of work from you,” you shrugged, pursing your lips together.

“I’ll do everything I can, y/n,” he reached forward and instinctively you brought your face towards him, his thumb gently stroked across your cheekbone, “I’m sorry, y/n, I’m so fucking sorry.” A single tear rolled down his cheek, you watched it as it dropped off his chin and you merely smiled, thin lipped, leaning into his touch as you thought over all those beautiful, intoxicating times from your shared past.

“Aemond, I need you to prove to me that you want me… that you love me…” you whispered, a few tears rolling down your cheeks, he caught them with his strong thumbs, bringing your face towards his lips and softly kissing your forehead.

“I will do everything, absolutely everything, I’ll even kiss your bare feet.” That earned a laugh from you. You missed his jokes.

“Fight for me, Aemond.” You said, almost silently.

“Every single fucking day.” He responded.

#hotd aemond #aemond x oc #aemond x reader #aemond fanfiction #aemond x you #aemond fic #prince aemond #aemond one eye #aemond targaryen #aemond smut #hotd x oc #hotd x reader #hotd fandom #fanfiction #fanfic #house of the dragon #hotd fanfic #hotd

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msschemmenti · 2 months ago

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girl in danger -3

part 3

a/n: sorry to anyone reading my stuff/interacting with me in anyway right now... a bitch [me] is oober-mega-colossally- depressed right now. but here is something. <3 this will be picking up in this next part.

Monday, May 5th, 2025

Y/n really hadn’t had a busy week like this in quite a while. Dr. Kelley was not joking when she said all hands on deck for this final recital. Throughout this school year, it had become abundantly clear that this music department had something to prove to the rest of campus. After the great reviews from the Faculty showcase across campus, showcasing their stellar students seemed to be the best way Dr.Kelley could find to justify some of her more expensive splurges this year. Being the newest addition to the team Y/n hadn’t really mastered the art of politely declining Dr. Kelley’s requests yet. So she’d found her hours before, between, and sometimes even during classes full of last-minute details that the department chair couldn’t (or didn’t want to) do herself. With so much being tossed her way, Y/n practically shivered when as soon as she stepped into the music building, the office manager, Jeanette, waved her over to her desk.

“Hi, Miss Jeanette. What’s up?” Y/n leaned against the desk, resting the box of programs she’d been hauling around on there.

“I can see Dr. Kelley’s been running you ragged. Well, don’t worry she’s already left for the day.” Jeanette winked before turning to pull something from behind the desk. “ I just wanted to make sure you got all these little things from your mailbox. They’re starting to pile up and I wouldn’t want your secret admirer to be upset that you never got any of this.”

Y/n’s eyes widened as the older woman slid the small basket of notes, candy, flowers, and a small stuffed animal. She leafed through the basket skeptically and looked at Jeanette. “Secret admirer? How long has all of this been up here?”

“I say about last week. I’ve not seen you round much, so I figured I’d just hold it until I could catch you.”

“Huh,” Y/n nodded, shifting the gifts on top of her other box. “And you don’t know who’s been dropping these off?”

“Not a clue, if they’re not here before I get in. They’ve just been sort of materializing throughout the day. Always with your name on them though.”

“Well thanks, Miss Jeanette, let me know if anything else appears.” Y/n waved goodbye and headed for her office to drop the things off before her next class. Her first instinct for the sender would be her girlfriends because some of the candies in the basket were her favorites. And she hadn’t really shared anything like that with her colleagues. But if it’d been happening all week, surely they would’ve said something about it when she got home. But nothing had been mentioned thus far. With a shrug and the mental note to ask her partners later, Y/n dropped the items on her desk and hurried down to her next class. She didn’t normally spend too much time speeding through the halls but this particular class had been known to take the 15-minute and no-professor rule seriously.

After her final class, only one thing stood between Y/n and home. A late-night lesson with Matt in preparation for the recital. She’d been making positive headway with both Claire and Jordan in their sessions this week and was hopeful the same could be said about Matt. She’d played a bit of tag with the guy all last week and after he basically burst into Jordan’s one-on-one session last Thursday, Y/n felt email might be the only way to set up a meeting. Matt responded saying he had no time before 7:30 pm that would work for him because he hosted lab hours until then. So Y/n agreed and shot off an email to his accompanist to see if they’d be able to join them. She never made it a habit of keeping students after 5, but if that was the only time they were available to meet– she’d suck it up and power through. And with dress rehearsal on Thursday and the recital on Friday, there wasn’t much time left in the semester anyway.

When 6:30 hit and Y/n was elbow-deep in Music Literature final papers, her phone started buzzing somewhere under the mess that her desk had become in the short time she’d been working. Fishing it out seemed to only make it vibrate louder, but once she had it in hand she was able to read through the text thread blowing up.

jj: please tell me you’re on your way.

emily: what jj means is can we get an eta, so we can plan for dinner?

y/n: sorry to disappoint, but i won’t be heading that way for at least another hour

jj: boo!

emily: any requests for dinner then? we’ll probably grab something on the way in again then.

y/n: no preferences. i’ll let you know when i’m heading out.

Y/n’s eyes shifted to the time on her phone screen and caught sight of the discarded gift box on her desk. Already having decided to ask both of her girlfriends about the items, she figured now would be as good a time as any.

y/n: also! you two haven’t been sending me gifts to work this week, have you?

emily: gifts? what kind of gifts?

jj: who’s sending you gifts at work?

y/n: that’s what i’m trying to figure out honey. but i can see that neither of you is behind these little notes and candies.

jj: someone is sending you notes and candy?! since when?

y/n: miss jeanette said they’ve been showing up sometime last week.

Before JJ or Emily could question more there was a knock at Y/n’s office door and Sam poked his head in with a wave. “Hi Sam, come on in. Matt should be here shortly.”

y/n: gotta go, we’ll talk later

“Who’s sending my girlfriend gifts at work?” JJ grumbled as she and Emily drove through the DC streets.

“Our girlfriend. And it’s probably just some student trying to show their appreciation for her help.” Emily tried to explain logically. JJ was a hothead and it made for interesting sex but she benefited from a good reeling in from time to time. “I’m sure it’s perfectly innocent.”

“Sure, perfectly innocent. If it was so innocent, why not just give her the gift directly?” JJ questioned.

“I don’t know Jen, but neither does she. Plus like she said we’d talk later. For all we know, it could be some office secret Santa that she forgot about. Either way, we’ll figure it out later.”

JJ hummed noncommittally and turned her attention away from Emily with a grumble. “It’s not even December.”

Y/n and Sam had been sitting in her office quietly waiting for Matt to arrive. Sam ran some problem areas of the piece at the piano while Y/n continued folding programs. Just as Sam brought the piece to a close, a stilted knock echoed in the office's silence. Not even waiting for an invitation, the door swung open revealing Matt, bent over his knees in a pant. “Sorry, I’m late.” He pushed out, eyes trained on his feet as he caught his breath.

Y/n waited for the kid to settle and shrugged, “No worries, Matt. After you catch your breath, we can get started. Sam’s already identified some problem areas that you guys have been working through.”

Y/n turned to pack a few things away and prepare for the lesson, completely missing the straightening of Matt’s spine at the mention of the other student’s name. With his body almost completely back to normal, Matt shrugged his bag off his shoulders and moved further into the office to hover near the piano. “What are you doing here man?” Matt grumbled between clenched teeth before knocking Sam’s shoulder playfully. Sam grimaced and eyed the professor’s back wearily before chuckling and shrugging in response. He turned back to face the piano, leaving Matt to gather his music.

Matt very carefully rifled through his bag for his music and tucked it against the wall across the room. Once the bag was where he wanted it, he stood next to the piano with his music open on the music stand. “I’m ready.” He announced drawing Y/n’s attention back to him so they could begin the session. Both students fumble through the song a couple of times with Matt hardly looking at the music leaving Sam to guess his way through the measures. After the first run-through, Y/n noticed Matt’s focus wandering from the music and suggested he turn to face the full-length mirror on the wall. But even then his eyes still seemed to fix on her and it was getting a little strange. She’d had students avoid eye contact, some even told her they couldn’t look at her or they’d get too nervous, but this was a first. After the third attempt, Y/n stopped them as nicely as she could think of at this time of night.

“Well that was somethin’ , wasn’t it? Let’s pause for a second and try to figure out a solution.”

“I think I’m just nervous,” Matt mumbled cheeks reddening.

“Right,” Y/n agreed and stood from her chair. She rested her foot on the base of the music stand and adjusted it to naturally meet Matt’s eyeline. “You’re also not watching your music, which is making it hard for Sam to follow you. Let’s try it again, this time Matt focus on the music a bit more and I’ll turn away to hopefully ease your nerves.”

Y/n finally stopped them at 8:45. Matt was in good enough shape and she couldn’t possibly keep them there any longer. It also didn’t help that her phone had been vibrating repeatedly for the last 45 minutes. There was no doubt in her mind that JJ and Emily were behind it. “Great job guys. We’ll work so more of this during class tomorrow and then dress rehearsal before the actual show.”

“Oh! Y’all want a piece of candy or somethin’ to tide you over on your walk to dining?” Y/n asked pushing the new box of treats to the edge of her desk in offering. Y/n watched Sam’s eyes light up a bit and he made to grab a piece from the pile.”Miss Jeanette gave all these to me today and I know I won’t eat them all.”

“No thanks! We’re good, right Sammy?” Matt answered quickly, extending his arm in front of Sam’s body. Sam stopped moving and gripped at the strap of his bag instead and mumbled. “Right.”

Y/n eyed them curiously and made to insist but her phone buzzed yet again, this time Emily all but ordering her to start making her way home. “Okay then, suit yourselves. Well, let’s make like a tree a leave.” Y/n ushered them out of her office, locked her door, and bid them farewell before heading for home.

#emily prentiss x reader #jennifer jareau x reader #jemily x reader #gnd series masterlist #gnd series universe #msschemmenti

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arushi091 · 6 months ago

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Best Hosting Provider in Delhi

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#digital marketing #web hosting #hosting platform #hosting provider in delhi

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all-things-are-nothing-to-me · 4 months ago

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The PM Press Warehouse at 21 Emma Street in Binghamton, NY will be hosting the Second Annual Upstate Anarchist Book Fair on May 3th and 4th, 2025.

In celebration of International Workers’ Day, the two-day fair will feature book/zine vendors, a warehouse sale, community organizations, two full days of panels, live music from the loading dock, and much more. All are welcome to join us in creating community, sharing skills and passions, and debating the best way to overthrow the (patriarchal, racist, cis het) capitalist system.

The book fair is an opportunity not only to sell and promote but to create community. You don’t need to identify as an anarchist to attend or participate in the book fair!

We’re still booking performers, vendors, speakers, workshops, etc so please reach out to us via email at [email protected] or fill out this google form…

forms.gle/4sRLCUCHAkpvEyhJ9

…. if you’d like to participate. Adding your contact info to the google form will also get you added to our mailing list with UABF updates and more!

Why an Upstate Anarchist Book Fair in Binghamton, NY?

The practical reason: PM Press bought a 17,000 square ft warehouse in Binghamton in 2021. We also purchased a used bookstore – Autumn Leaves – in Ithaca, NY. Over the last year-and-a-half, we’ve filled the warehouse with racks on racks of leftist literature (both PM Press and other comrade publishers). Today it is surely one of the largest repositories of leftist literature in the world. We also have a big parking lot, a developing event space, and connections to a local DIY community with the skills to put together a fun, productive, and thoughtful event.

The political reason: Binghamton is the post-industrial crater left by anti-union, paternalistic warmongers like IBM and the Endicott-Johnson Shoe Company. The former headquarters of the New York KKK and current epicenter of upstate mass incarceration, Binghamton is, like many small Rust Belt cities, run by reactionaries who grew up in the city’s golden age and are convinced we’re just a few tax breaks and drug raids away from a return to 1959. We also have a small but dedicated community of activists fighting to liberate Binghamton from these slumlord/cop/petit bourgeois business creep/political elite overlords. We hope events like the UABF will bring together like-minded comrades and crews from across the region to share knowledge, skills, and joy to expand our little networks of radical agitation into a collective force that can challenge capitalism across the county, state, and beyond!

Parking Options:

Street parking is easy to find and plentiful. At this time there is no other parking planned for attendees. As you can see from the map above, the warehouse is located in a residential neighborhood. All streets have parking on at least one side. Many have parking on both sides. There is space for about 100 cars within a 2 block radius. The on street parking signage is generally straightforward and easy to understand. We ask that you follow the signage as directed. Please do not park in any of the local parking lots. Bikes are encouraged!

There is additional street parking on/across Glenwood Avenue and on/across Main Street.

Before the fair starts vendors will be able to drive up to their vendor spot for loading/unloading. We are currently looking into designated vendor parking.

Driving Directions:

The PM Press warehouse is just off a major highway (NY-17/I-86) and very close to the I-86/NY-17 and I-81 interchange. NYC, Philadelphia, and Buffalo are all about 3.5 hours away. Boston and Washington DC are about 4.5 hours. Cleveland is 5.5 hours driving time.

The warehouse is conveniently located off Main Street in Binghamton/Johnson City, situated next to the former Erie Line Railroad (later the Erie Lackawanna Line).

The facility is set back from Emma Street down a short driveway and has a large parking lot to host the day’s festivities.

Accessibility:

We have two bathrooms inside the warehouse with 29″ doorways. One of them is currently equipped with handrails.

There is wheelchair access to the warehouse through the loading dock via the ramp but the ramp is fairly steep. We will have volunteers available to assist.

Unless it rains, the plan is to have the majority of the vendors outside in the parking lot. There is a gradual incline up the driveway.

Food & Drink:

We will have plenty of free water on site.

We can’t promise to have any food available at this point, but there are options in the neighborhood:

Parlor City Vegan (81 Clinton St) will be open 12-8 on Saturday

There is a convenience store at 59 Glenwood Ave that’s a 5-10 minute walk from the warehouse.

Seating:

There will be a lot of folding chairs available, a few benches, and some nice grassy areas but we’d recommend bringing your own camping chairs if possible.

Pets:

Only service animals will be welcome inside the warehouse. Animals will be welcome in outdoor areas but we ask that you please be considerate of other attendees who may be allergic or phobic. There are also railroad tracks that run all day near the parking lot and three beehives behind the warehouse.

#anarchism #upstate anarchist bookfair #anarchist bookfair

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dxbcircleout · 5 months ago

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Affordable Web Hosting Services in UAE: Reliable Solutions for Every Need

The Affordable Web Hosting Services market in the UAE caters to individuals, startups, and businesses seeking cost-effective yet reliable solutions for establishing their online presence. With the increasing importance of a strong digital footprint, choosing the right web hosting provider is crucial for ensuring website performance, security, and scalability.

Affordable web hosting services in the UAE offer a variety of plans designed to suit diverse needs. Whether you’re launching a personal blog, setting up an e-commerce platform, or managing a corporate website, these services provide the necessary resources without breaking the budget. Features like ample storage, bandwidth, and advanced tools are often included, ensuring clients get the best value for their investment.

One of the key benefits of affordable web hosting in the UAE is access to local servers and data centers. These facilities ensure faster website loading times and improved reliability, especially for users within the region. This not only enhances user experience but also boosts search engine rankings, which is vital for online visibility and business success.

Security is another critical aspect of web hosting services. Affordable providers in the UAE prioritize website safety by offering SSL certificates, firewalls, regular backups, and protection against cyber threats. These measures ensure that your data remains secure, giving you peace of mind as you focus on growing your online presence.

Most affordable web hosting services in the UAE come with user-friendly control panels and 24/7 customer support. This makes it easy for users, regardless of their technical expertise, to manage their websites efficiently. Hosting providers also offer seamless scalability options, allowing clients to upgrade their plans as their website traffic and business requirements grow.

Value-added features such as free domain registration, email hosting, and website-building tools further enhance the appeal of affordable hosting packages. These tools simplify the process of creating a professional-looking website and help businesses save on additional expenses.

Affordability doesn’t mean compromising on quality. Many hosting providers in the UAE ensure their services are aligned with global standards, offering 99.9% uptime guarantees and robust performance. This reliability ensures that websites remain accessible to visitors at all times, which is critical for building trust and credibility.

For small businesses and entrepreneurs, affordable web hosting services provide an excellent starting point for establishing an online presence. By offering budget-friendly options without sacrificing essential features, these services enable clients to focus their resources on other aspects of their business growth.

As the demand for online services continues to grow, the UAE’s hosting market remains competitive, with providers striving to deliver better features at lower costs. This benefits customers by giving them access to a wide range of options tailored to their specific needs and budgets.

By choosing affordable web hosting services in the UAE, you can ensure that your website operates smoothly, looks professional, and meets the expectations of your audience—all without exceeding your budget. Whether you’re a beginner or an established business, these services are an ideal choice for building and maintaining a strong online presence.

#Affordable Web Hosting Ser #Web Hosting Services in UAE

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muskanbarii · 5 months ago

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Web Hosting: Choosing The Best One for Your Business Needs

Hosting is crucial for businesses operating online. Therefore, choosing the right web hosting is one of the most critical decisions for your website’s success. Depending upon the nature and size of your business, hosting will impact your website’s performance, security, and scalability.

As there are numerous hosting providers in UK, choosing one that serves your purpose is definitely a difficult task to do. However, choosing a cheap UK web hosting that’s appropriate for your website becomes easier with a few simple tips:

Analyse your website requirements

Assess your website’s needs by understanding the type of website you are building, traffic you are expecting, and advanced features (database, email hosting, and custom application), as well as your budget.

For a personal blog, resource requirements are minimal. However, big online stores have a more robust hosting requirements, considering the expectations like traffic, security, and loading time.

What would be the most suitable hosting type?

There are different types of hosting, like shared hosting (offering limited resources, it’s suitable for small websites),VPS or virtual private server hosting (a little expensive, it is suitable for growing businesses with moderate traffic), dedicated hosting (suitable for high-traffic websites), and cloud hosting (suitable for websites with variable or high-traffic).

Expected features

While choosing hosting providers, consider features like performance and uptime, scalability, security, customer support, and ease of use. All these features are crucial to determine the worth of your investment. A hosting that can’t accommodate your growing business needs doesn’t offer you any value.

Get recommendations and read reviews

It would be a great idea to get recommendations from your business networks who are already using great hosting services. Recommendations from industry experts and peers in your network can provide a valuable insight. You can also use online searches to come across some reputable hosting providers. To determine their credibility, check their online reviews and customer feedback.

Compare packages

Budget is an important factor for any business. Therefore, you can think of comparing prices and packages. Apart from that, also find out what features are included in the price, and if there are any hidden charges. Comparison allows you to settle with the best yet cheap UK web hosting for your business website.

Web hosting is a crucial service to let your business function online, so you need to practice caution to come across a reputable service provider and choose the best package.Take your time, do your research, and choose a host that sets your website up for long-term success.

#Cheap UK Web Hosting

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portofinomagency · 8 months ago

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Why Your Business Needs a Marketing Agency: Unlocking Growth with Portofino Marketing Agency OÜ

In today’s digital-first world, businesses are constantly navigating an evolving landscape of online platforms, social media, search engine algorithms, and consumer trends. Companies, especially small and medium-sized enterprises (SMEs), are expected to master a complex range of marketing strategies to remain competitive. The solution? Partnering with a professional marketing agency.

In this detailed analysis, we will explore the importance of hiring a marketing agency, how it can drive business growth, and why Portofino Marketing Agency is an optimal choice for companies looking to scale their marketing efforts.

The Evolving Nature of Marketing The digital revolution has completely transformed how businesses market their products and services. Gone are the days when print ads, billboards, and radio spots dominated marketing efforts. Today, the battleground for consumer attention is digital, with social media, search engine optimization (SEO), pay-per-click (PPC) advertising, content marketing, and email marketing playing a crucial role.

According to a report by Statista, digital ad spending worldwide is projected to reach $645 billion by 2024. This shows just how pivotal online marketing has become in the modern business landscape.

Businesses now need to ensure they are visible online, effectively engaging their target audiences while tracking and optimizing their marketing strategies in real-time. The complexity and fast pace of these changes make it difficult for businesses to keep up, especially without the help of experts.

Why In-House Marketing Often Falls Short Many businesses initially try to handle their marketing efforts in-house, assuming it will save them money and give them more control over their branding. However, the reality is that in-house marketing teams, especially for SMEs, often face significant challenges.

A. Lack of Specialized Expertise

Digital marketing is highly specialized. Whether it’s optimizing a website for search engines, managing a social media ad campaign, or designing effective email newsletters, each tactic requires a deep understanding of tools, trends, and best practices. In-house teams might lack the expertise needed to execute advanced strategies. SEO alone is a multi-faceted discipline that includes keyword research, link building, and content optimization—tasks that require years of experience.

B. Resource Constraints

For small to medium-sized businesses, limited resources—both in terms of budget and personnel—make it difficult to allocate the necessary time and energy to marketing. Juggling marketing with other essential business operations often results in inefficient campaigns that fail to yield the desired results.

C. Technological and Analytical Demands

Successful marketing today relies heavily on technology and data analytics. Marketing automation platforms, customer relationship management (CRM) systems, and analytic tools like Google Analytics or HubSpot are essential for tracking campaign performance, understanding customer behavior, and making data-driven decisions. In-house teams often don’t have access to these tools or the training required to use them effectively.

The Benefits of Hiring a Marketing Agency Hiring a marketing agency offers a host of advantages that go beyond simply outsourcing tasks. Here’s how partnering with an agency can revolutionize your marketing efforts:

A. Access to Industry Experts

Marketing agencies employ a team of specialists with in-depth knowledge in various marketing fields, including content creation, SEO, social media management, graphic design, and PPC advertising. These professionals stay updated on the latest trends, algorithms, and technologies, ensuring your business remains competitive in the digital space.

According to HubSpot, businesses that adopt inbound marketing techniques—like SEO, social media, and content creation—are 60% more likely to report positive ROI compared to those that focus on outbound methods like cold-calling or direct mail. Marketing agencies, with their broad expertise, are well-versed in executing these high-ROI strategies.

B. Cost Efficiency and Time Savings

While hiring a marketing agency may seem like an additional expense, it can actually save businesses money in the long run. Agencies provide access to advanced tools, software, and platforms that would be costly to purchase independently. Additionally, by outsourcing your marketing to a professional team, you can reduce the need for in-house hires and focus on your core business functions.

C. Scalability

One of the biggest advantages of working with a marketing agency is scalability. Whether you’re launching a new product, expanding to new markets, or increasing your customer base, marketing agencies can quickly scale their efforts to meet your growing needs. This flexibility ensures that your marketing keeps pace with your business objectives.

D. Data-Driven Results

Marketing agencies use data and analytics to track and measure the performance of campaigns. They provide detailed reports that show what’s working and what’s not, allowing for real-time adjustments that optimize outcomes. These insights help businesses make informed decisions and maximize their marketing investments.

How Portofino Marketing Agency Elevates Your Business Portofino Marketing Agency offers businesses a comprehensive and tailored approach to digital marketing. Whether you're a small business looking to build an online presence or a medium-sized enterprise seeking to boost brand visibility and drive sales, Portofino's full suite of services ensures your goals are met.

A. Comprehensive Service Offering

Portofino Marketing Agency provides an all-in-one marketing solution, offering services such as:

Content Marketing: Creating valuable, relevant content to attract and engage your target audience.

SEO (Search Engine Optimization): Boosting your website’s visibility on search engines like Google, helping potential customers find your business online.

Social Media Marketing: Building and engaging with your audience on platforms like Facebook, Instagram, LinkedIn, and Twitter.

PPC Advertising: Driving targeted traffic through paid search engine ads or social media promotions.

Email Marketing: Reaching your audience directly with personalized, automated email campaigns.

Web Design and Development: Creating user-friendly, SEO-optimized websites that provide an excellent user experience. Conversion Rate Optimization (CRO): Improving your website’s ability to convert visitors into paying customers.

Graphic Design and Branding: Enhancing your brand identity with compelling visuals and a consistent message across all marketing channels.

These services are designed to work synergistically, ensuring that your business presents a cohesive and professional image across all digital platforms.

B. Expertise in Targeting the USA Market

As an agency with a specialized focus on the USA market, Portofino Marketing Agency is adept at understanding the unique characteristics, behaviors, and preferences of American consumers. Our team has deep knowledge of the market dynamics, ensuring that every campaign is optimized to resonate with the target audience.

With the U.S. eCommerce market expected to reach $1.3 trillion by 2025, Portofino’s expertise in SEO, PPC, and content marketing ensures that your business taps into this growing digital economy effectively.

C. Advanced Marketing Technologies and Tools

Portofino stays at the cutting edge of marketing technology. We utilize advanced tools like SEMrush for SEO audits and competitor analysis, HubSpot for CRM and marketing automation, and Google Analytics for performance tracking. By leveraging these tools, we deliver campaigns that are not only creative but also driven by insights and data, maximizing your return on investment (ROI).

D. Personalized Marketing Strategies

One-size-fits-all strategies are ineffective in today’s diverse marketplace. Portofino Marketing Agency takes a personalized approach to each client’s needs. We start by conducting a detailed assessment of your business objectives, target audience, and competition. Based on these insights, we create customized marketing strategies that align with your goals and help you stand out from the competition.

The Role of SEO and Keywords in Business Success Search Engine Optimization (SEO) plays a pivotal role in how businesses attract and engage online users. By optimizing your website for search engines, you can significantly improve your chances of being discovered by potential customers. Effective SEO involves a combination of on-page factors like keyword optimization, high-quality content, and technical improvements, as well as off-page elements such as link building and social signals.

A. The Importance of Keywords

Keywords are the foundation of SEO. They help search engines understand the content of your website and how relevant it is to search queries. Portofino Marketing Agency conducts thorough keyword research to identify the terms and phrases your target audience is using, ensuring that your website ranks higher in search results.

B. On-Page and Off-Page SEO

Portofino’s SEO services include both on-page and off-page optimization. On-page SEO focuses on enhancing website content, metadata, and user experience to improve search rankings. Off-page SEO focuses on building backlinks, increasing domain authority, and driving traffic from other reputable sources.

C. Local SEO

For businesses with physical locations or a localized service area, local SEO is essential. Portofino Marketing Agency helps optimize your online presence for location-based searches, ensuring that potential customers in your area can find your business easily.

Portofino Marketing Agency’s Proven Track Record At Portofino Marketing Agency, we have helped countless businesses achieve their marketing goals, from increasing brand visibility and driving traffic to boosting conversion rates and growing revenue. Our client case studies demonstrate the success we’ve achieved across various industries, showcasing the effectiveness of our data-driven strategies.

Conclusion:

Hiring a marketing agency is critical for businesses seeking to stay competitive in today’s rapidly evolving digital landscape. With expertise in various domains such as SEO, social media marketing, and content strategy, agencies provide a holistic approach to growing brand visibility and customer engagement. By outsourcing these specialized services, businesses can focus on their core competencies while ensuring that their marketing efforts are handled by professionals who use data-driven strategies to optimize ROI. Moreover, the ability to scale and adjust marketing tactics according to business needs makes hiring an agency a cost-effective solution that drives sustainable growth.

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From creating a seamless online experience to driving targeted traffic and delivering impactful messages, we’ve got all your digital marketing needs covered. Let’s build, design, and optimize together for success!

Portofino Marketing Agency OÜ

You Will Find Love in Portofino!

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