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#a Dome Labels
aanshi7 · 9 months
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Endless Creativity with Customized Printing and Promotional Products
In a world overflowing with information and choices, the power of a strong first impression cannot be underestimated. Whether you're representing your company at a trade show, organizing a community event, or simply looking to enhance your brand visibility, personalized and visually appealing materials are the keys to success. At Name Bagde, we take pride in offering an extensive array of customizable products and printing services designed to help you stand out and leave an indelible mark on your audience.
Name Badges/Tags:
PVC White Rectangle Customized Name Badges/Tags: Elevate your professional image with our meticulously crafted name badges/tags. Impress clients, customers, and colleagues with your attention to detail.v
Printing Services:
Photo Papers: Transform your precious memories into tangible keepsakes with our high-quality photo paper prints. Cherish life's special moments in vivid color and sharp detail.
Inkjet Sheets: Whether it's for business presentations or personal projects, our premium inkjet sheets ensure your designs pop with vibrancy and clarity.
Flag Printing Services: Make a bold statement with customized flags bearing your unique message or logo. Perfect for events, businesses, and more.
T-shirt Printing Services: Wear your creativity on your sleeve – or your chest! Our exceptional t-shirt printing allows you to express your individuality and promote your brand.
Customized Festival T-shirt Printing: Embrace the festival spirit with one-of-a-kind shirts that capture the essence of the occasion.
T-shirt Printing for Festival: Celebrate special moments with custom festival-themed attire that stands out in the crowd.
T-shirt Printing for NGO: Raise awareness and funds for your noble cause with custom tees that tell your story.
Promotional Products:
Button Badges Raw Material: Unleash your creativity by crafting your own button badges. Our high-quality materials ensure your badges are both durable and eye-catching.
Tags Loops: Keep your promotional tags secure and organized. Ideal for events, giveaways, and marketing campaigns.
ID Card Holders: Present your ID cards with professionalism and protect them from wear and tear. Our holders combine style and functionality.
Magnetic Fasteners: Say goodbye to fumbling with pins and clips. Our magnetic fasteners make badge attachment a breeze.
Dome Labels: Add depth and sophistication to your branding with our unique 3D dome labels. Elevate your brand's presence with a tactile and visually striking finish.
Flexible Dome Stickers: When durability matters, our flexible dome stickers deliver. They are designed to withstand the test of time while showcasing your custom design.
Acrylic Paper Weights: Make a statement on desks everywhere with elegant and personalized paperweights. A subtle yet powerful branding tool.
PVC Foldable Bookmarks with Magnet: Combine the practicality of bookmarks with the appeal of magnets. Perfect for keeping your place and displaying your brand message.
PVC Bookmarks Satin Thread: Enhance the aesthetics of your bookmarks with satin thread, adding a touch of elegance to your promotional materials.
PVC Bookmarks: Simple yet effective promotional tools that provide a tangible way to keep your brand message in your audience's hands.
Additional Services:
Cushion Cover Services: Personalize your living space with custom cushion covers that reflect your unique style and personality.
Sipper Bottles Printing Services: Stay hydrated in style and promote your brand with our custom sipper bottles, perfect for on-the-go marketing.
Flag Printing Services: Make a grand statement at your next event or celebration with custom flags that capture attention and leave a lasting impression.
PVC Foldable Bookmarks with Magnet: Combine functionality and aesthetics with our unique bookmarks, designed to keep your brand message in the spotlight.
At Name Badge, we recognize the significance of making a memorable impression. Our diverse options empower you to unleash your creativity, breathe life into your ideas, and differentiate yourself from the competition. Whether you aim to enhance your brand image, commemorate a special event, or champion a worthy cause, we possess the tools and expertise to help you achieve it.
Let us be your creative partner; together, we can transform your vision into a tangible reality that resonates with your audience. Please reach out to us today to explore how our customized name badges/tags, promotional products, and printing services can elevate your brand and leave an enduring impression. Your success is our commitment, and we look forward to helping you make a remarkable lasting impact!
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kemsigns · 1 year
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Find The Good Quality And Best Custom Signs Melbourne
If you are running a business and want to stand out from the crowd and uniquely present your company, we have a solution for you. KEM Signs has been providing signage solutions and has helped many businesses flourish. We understand every little detail of the signage industry ideally, which allows us to provide only the best-grade materials in designing your custom business signs. Our team of experts is highly skilled and knowledgeable in signage. We are committed to providing various solutions that will help you enhance the look and feel of your business or organization. Do not hesitate to contact us for more details about Custom Signs Melbourne.
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elecflextech · 3 months
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Reliable Rubber Button Keypads For Every Application
ElecFlex Technologies is a reliable and trusted manufacturer of rubber button keypads designed to withstand heavy wear and tear. Our keypads are perfect for businesses in various industries. With our advanced technology and expert craftsmanship, you can customize your keypads to meet your specific needs. ElecFlex is the leading keypad manufacturer, and we're committed to helping you enhance your products. Contact us: +86 13952093336
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Circle Vinyl Stickers | Vinyl Stickers - Stickers International Australia
Find here the supreme quality circle vinyl stickers and circle vinyl labels from stickers international Australia. Call us at +612 8003 5046 or visit: www.stickersinternational.com.au
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alyssamonah · 7 months
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High-Quality Screen Printing Melbourne: Unveiling the Artistry and Precision
When it comes to custom apparel, promotional merchandise, and creative branding solutions, screen printing stands out as a versatile and enduring choice. Whether you're a business owner seeking to make a lasting impression, an event organizer looking for eye-catching merchandise, or simply an individual wanting to express your unique style, high-quality screen printing Melbourne can transform your vision into a reality.
In this blog, we'll delve into the fascinating world of screen printing, exploring the artistry and precision that make Melbourne a hub for this age-old craft. From the process and its applications to where to find the best screen printing services in Melbourne, we've got you covered.
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The Artistry of Screen Printing
Screen printing is an age-old printing technique with its origins dating back to ancient China. However, it has evolved and refined over the centuries, making it a contemporary art form with endless possibilities. At its core, screen printing involves transferring ink through a stencil onto a substrate (usually fabric, paper, or various surfaces) using a mesh screen and a squeegee. This seemingly simple process is a testament to the artistry and precision required in creating high-quality screen printing.
The Precision of the Process
The quality of screen printing largely depends on the precision of the process. Melbourne is home to many skilled screen printers who have honed their craft, ensuring that each print is a work of art. Here's a glimpse into the precision that goes into producing high-quality screen prints:
Artwork Preparation: The process begins with the creation of the design, which is then converted into a stencil. Attention to detail and precision is crucial at this stage to ensure that the final print accurately represents the intended image.
Screen Preparation: The mesh screen is prepared by coating it with a light-sensitive emulsion. The stencil is then exposed onto the screen, and the unexposed areas are washed away, leaving a clean, precise image.
Ink Mixing: Achieving the perfect color and consistency of ink is an art in itself. Skilled screen printers in Melbourne are experts at mixing inks to ensure vibrant and lasting prints.
Printing Process: When it's time to print, the screen is carefully aligned with the substrate, and the ink is applied using a squeegee. The pressure and angle of the squeegee require precision to achieve uniform and crisp prints.
Curing: After printing, the ink is cured at high temperatures to ensure its durability and longevity. Precise control of temperature and time is essential for this step.
Quality Inspection: Each print is carefully inspected for imperfections or inconsistencies. Melbourne's screen printing professionals take pride in their work and ensure that every print meets the highest standards.
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Diverse Applications
High-quality screen printing in Melbourne is a versatile art that finds applications across various industries and purposes. Here are some of the diverse applications:
Custom Apparel
Custom clothing, including T-shirts, hoodies, and caps, is a popular use of screen printing. Businesses, sports teams, bands, and individuals turn to Melbourne's screen printing experts to create personalized, eye-catching garments.
Promotional Merchandise
Branding and promotional products benefit from screen printing's ability to produce consistent and memorable prints. From branded tote bags to event giveaways, screen printing is a cost-effective way to create lasting impressions.
Art and Poster Prints
Screen printing is not limited to textiles. It is also used to create limited edition art prints and posters. The precision and quality of screen printing make it a preferred choice for artists and art enthusiasts in Melbourne.
Signage and Banners
In the world of advertising and marketing, large-format screen printing is often used to create banners, signage, and displays. The vibrant and durable prints make an impact that lasts.
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Finding the Best Screen Printing Services in Melbourne
If you're in Melbourne and looking for high-quality Safety Signage Melbourne, you're in the right place. Here are some tips on finding the best screen printers in the city:
Experience Matters: Look for screen printing businesses with years of experience. Experience often translates to expertise and reliability.
Samples and Portfolio: Ask for samples of their previous work or check their portfolio. This will give you an idea of the quality and style of their printing.
Customer Reviews: Read reviews and testimonials from previous customers. Positive feedback and a strong reputation are good indicators of a reliable screen printing service.
Quality Assurance: Inquire about their quality control processes. The best screen printers in Melbourne take quality seriously and have strict quality checks in place.
Customization Options: Whether you need a single print or a large order, ensure that the screen printing service can accommodate your specific requirements.
Turnaround Time: Check their turnaround time to make sure it aligns with your project's schedule.
Customer Service: Friendly and helpful customer service can make the process smoother and more enjoyable.
Melbourne's vibrant creative scene and love for art and culture have contributed to the growth of high-quality screen printing services in the city. With these tips in mind, you can find a screen printing partner that can bring your vision to life.
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Conclusion
High-quality screen printing in Melbourne is a blend of artistry and precision. This versatile printing technique has a wide range of applications, from custom apparel to promotional merchandise, and it is cherished by artists and businesses alike. Whether you're a local looking to make a statement or a visitor seeking a unique Melbourne souvenir, screen printing offers a creative and enduring way to express yourself. So, explore the world of high-quality screen printing in Melbourne, where artistry and precision come together to transform your ideas into reality.
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treecakes · 8 months
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aw cute i forgot i brought a doll on that trip.
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5 Key Benefits of Incorporating Product Labels into Your Branding Strategy
Let us explore how product labels play a pivotal role in shaping a brand's identity and market success. Discover why these seemingly small labels have a big impact on consumer perception, brand recognition, regulatory compliance, storytelling, and differentiation. Learn how exceptionally manufactured labels with intricate designs can elevate your brand in a crowded marketplace.
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Read more: Top 5 Reasons Why Product Labels are Important for Brand Strategy
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bmgprint · 11 months
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Choose The Custom-Made Safety Signage Melbourne For Your Worksite
Safety is the top priority in all settings. For this reason, it is essential to have signs that help regulate traffic on roads, as they alert motorists and pedestrians of what lies ahead and help control how things proceed. Apart from the traffic signs, you will find it very helpful to have safety signs in your workplace, which not only keep your employees safe but also warn clients and customers of any impending dangers.
Safety Signage Melbourne is of great help in keeping everyone safe and secure. While they may seem small, they are significant as they can keep people from getting hurt or even killed. Consider having your own set of safety signs that you can use in your workplace or home so that you never have to worry about the well-being of those around you. Safety signs are vital to any business or home. They keep people safe and ensure they know what to do in an emergency. 
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Safety signs come in many forms, including those that warn against hazards such as fire or electrical failures. You can also have warning signs around your business so that your customers know only to touch certain things if they are trained professionals. Safety signs are not just for businesses and homes; they can also keep people safe in public places. A good example is the signs that are put up at railroad crossings, warning people of an approaching train.
Are you searching for a confirmed company that delivers excellent signage solutions? KEM Signs is the leading signage company in Australia. They are a one-stop shop for all your sign needs. Their team’s expertise and experience in this industry will be of great use to you when identifying your future business needs. They have an enormous client base and swear by their top-class customer service. Their products come from high-quality materials and have an excellent finish. They also offer customization services, which means you can get your signage in any size and shape you want. Contact them for more details about Safety Signage Victoria.
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durolenz · 1 year
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Add Personality To Your Home With Dome Stickers
Home is where the heart is, and if you're a person who likes to decorate your home in a way that reflects your personality and interests, then you know that there are lots of ways to do it. You can pick out furniture pieces that suit your taste and style, get clothes in colors and patterns that reflect who you are as a person, or even find decorative items like lamps or vases that call out something about your hobbies or passions.
 But what about those things you don't necessarily want on display? What if there's an element of your personality that's not represented anywhere else in the house? If this sounds like something you might want to achieve with some added flair—but don't see how—then read on!
Use Dome Stickers for a cohesive look
best Dome stickers are an easy way to add personality to your home. They can be used on furniture, walls and even as organizational tools. Here are some ideas for how you can use dome stickers in your home:
Use them on furniture - For example, place a sticker on the back of a lampshade or mirror frame so it doesn't get lost in the wall when not being used.
Use them on walls - Stick one onto each side of a door frame so guests know which room they're entering into without having to read labels or signs (or knocking). You can also use them as decorative accents throughout your home--just make sure that whatever surface you're applying it onto is smooth enough for adhesion!
Organize with them - Create labels for boxes in storage areas by using matching colors from different packs; this way everything will look neat and tidy when unpacking later! Or keep track of all those little screws/bolts that come with new purchases by labeling drawers based off their contents using adhesive labels instead of sticky tape (which tends not stay stuck).
Use Dome Stickers to organize.
Dome stickers are a great way to help you organize your home. You can use them to organize your office, kitchen, bathroom and bedroom. If you have a living room or any other room in your house that needs some organizing, dome stickers are also perfect for those areas as well!
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Here are some ideas on how to use dome stickers:
Use them on the inside of cabinets or drawers as labels so you know what's inside each one without having to open up every single one just to check.
Use them as labels on bookshelves or shelves where there are multiple copies of the same book (or similar ones). This way when guests come over they won't feel confused about which book belongs where because everything will be labeled clearly with its title and author name(s).
Use them around electronics such as TVs and computers so people won't accidentally turn off or mess up settings while trying out new things.
Conclusion
We hope this article has given you some ideas on how to add personality to your home. The key is to keep it simple, and use items that can be moved around easily if needed. You don't have to spend a lot of money on decorating or remodeling projects-- just add some stickers!
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leviathanleva · 19 days
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Daisy
Pairing: Cooper Howard/The Ghoul x Fem Reader [DARK FIC]
Description: Cooper Howard was not a kind man, he cared for nobody, but himself. Then he found you, a lost little dove, barefoot and crying, torn dress and big innocent eyes staring at him like he was a hero. He knew you’d be a burden, he knew you couldn’t survive in the wasteland, he was doing you a favor.
But he couldn’t pull the fucking trigger...
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[5.7k words]
🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼
Chapter 8 "The Lie"
It’s been a journey.
Parched and starved, you’d been dragging your feet over the desolate wasteland deep into the night. The promise of a guesthouse only a mile or two away keeping your spirits up and your soreness to a minimum. Your head was still fuzzy with the trauma, as expected after taking such a brutal blow.
A pale coat of dust covers your boots, the blood has ceased oozing and now clings to your hair and skin like haunting war paint.
Cooper hadn’t said a peep about what had happened earlier, didn’t complain about you keeping his hand hostage either, just let you soak his glove in sweat while indulging in chain-smoking.
The lights coming from the inn are a beacon in the darkness, they slice through the shadow of the night, beckoning you with whispers of a bed and a full night of sleep. An exasperated sigh leaves you when you finally see it.
It was once a farmhouse. Large three-story mansion built of wood and reinforced by steel sheets only after the apocalypse. There’s a barn to the side, presumably turned into storage, a handful of soil beds from which vegetables are sprouting, a small herd of brahmin lay huddled in a corner, under a flimsy tin roof, sleeping in the remnants of a stable. A large rusty gate hugged by a sturdy fence, electric too once you were close enough to hear the distinct buzz. The generator rumbles behind a locked door in the ground, the basement if your speculations are correct.
It’s a fine establishment by today’s standards, well-known for offering respite for travelers because it was plopped in the middle of nowhere.
Regardless of the newfound relief, your pace stays the same, too achy and drained to rush towards the finish line. It’s a slow and agonizing walk, feels like an eternity, but as you climb the front porch steps you crack a smile. Your hand is promptly released and you take your usual place behind the ghoul, the medical folder still pinched under your armpit and looking like an old pancake.
The rich yellow hues shining through the dirty windows illuminate the creaky wooden boards beneath your shoes, the old benches on either end of the porch, and the large urns hosting a blooming tato plant each. There’s a mud-caked mat at the entrance and you can scarcely make out a “welcome” sign beneath all the grime.
Cooper spares you a glance over his shoulder, heavy-lidded eyes and husky tone indicating he’s just as exhausted as you.
“Don’ wander. No talkin’ t’ strangers.”
“Got it.” you nod, suppress the urge to hold onto his coat, and follow after him through the door.
You’re flooded with cigar smoke and the smell of spirit. Methodical chatter hangs in the air, mixing with the fluent jazz from the jukebox, random paintings are strewn across the walls, hiding the peeling wallpaper, some of the hanging lights are intact, some are missing their glass domes. Simple wooden chairs and circular tables, mostly vacant aside from a few rugged personas stuffed in the darker crooks of the establishment.
You take in everything under lowered lashes and caved-in shoulders.
It’s a cozy place, an oasis nestled along the road, a lovely little safehouse that welcomes any who have the caps.
The bar looks out of place, it’s too new and polished compared to everything else, dark oak shining under the soft glare of the old lightbulbs. A plethora of bottles are on display behind it, most of their labels scratched out or simply missing.
“Where’s Monique?” Cooper rests a palm against the counter and cocks his head to the female ghoul absentmindedly wiping at a glass with a stained rag.
“Holy Moly…”
You’re awestruck at the sight. She’s the second ghoul you’d ever seen and a woman at that. Despite the decomposition, she’s still retained her feminine features, one could even call her exotically beautiful. Donned in a full-body apron, a turquoise polo peaks under it; her eyes are sunken but lively, however the veiny red sclera makes you cringe. It just looks damn painful.
“Nice to see you too, Cooper.” she barks a laugh, her voice – distorted by radiation, but still cheery and friendly. “She went to bed so I took over. What’ll it be?”
“Got any rooms left?”
You’ve decided to focus on the hand-drawn menu hoisted above the liquor cabinet, scrunching your nose at the radroach skewers and cricket potato stew. There isn’t much that would suit your pallet, especially not the yao guai jerky. What even is a yao guai? Another overgrown bug?
The drinks have more variety than the food, even though most are alcohol. There’s still just plain water, specified as ‘mostly rad free’, then there’s tato and cactus juice. The options aren’t mouth-watering, but the drawings next to the headers are cute, some of them are even colored in.
“Got two, lucky for you.” she pauses then and the friendliness on her gaunt face gives way to confusion. She leans to the side as you step out of Cooper’s shadow to get a better view of the menu, her mouth shrinks out of its prickly smirk. “Oh, hello.” her curiosity quickly blossoms into sweet glee as she stares you down with startling warmth, then tosses the bounty hunter a passing comment. “Made a new friend, I see.”
You stiffen as the realization of her attention on you sinks in. Rolling your eyes to her, you find her beaming and you can’t help but return her welcoming smile with an awkward one. You fix your slouched posture, straighten up because first impressions are important, and give a polite nod.
“Mitzi, good to meet you. And you are?” she’s all giddy grins and wavy hands, finding you as a good treat after a long time of only having gruff wastelanders as customers. And you’re more than happy to humor her, she matches your character perfectly and you feel her filling up your energy levels instantly.
Your lips part as you fully intend to reciprocate her brightened mood.
“I’m – ”
“–An annoyance.” a dismissive scoff, one which has you shoot Cooper a nasty look. He’s indifferent, doesn’t bat an eye at you, instead nudges his chin at the untouched bourbon bottle. “I’ll take that one, room too, don’ care which one.”
Mitzie turns to reach for the bottle and sets it down next to the bounty hunter before sifting through the ledger hidden behind the counter. Keeping the privacy of her customers comes as a nice surprise. She mumbles something soft, supposedly checking the available rooms, then looks up at you.
“Shower or nah?”
“Excus – ” you blurt, then stop and suppress the need to ask for elaboration. “Shower.”
If she was alluding to the possibility of taking a proper bath, you’d cry. After months of rubbing soap into your sweat and using saliva to wash out toothpaste, you felt disgusting. Dirt had accumulated in places you didn’t even know existed and all of this excluded the greasy mess your hair had become. At times, you wanted to crawl out of your skin with how crusty you were.
And the stench was a whole other story you fought valiantly to ignore.
“Gotcha.” she hums and stuffs her hand into a jar before pulling out a large, rusted key and handing it to Cooper. “Master bedroom, second floor to the left.” her baby blues dart back to you. “Just so you know, showers cost extra.”
You hear the disgruntled groan and your expression sours.
Of all the things he dismissed to save up on caps, basic hygiene was one which you fiercely disagreed with. You’d already had this conversation multiple times, him walking around smelling like a dumpster fire with no regard for how that made him look was unacceptable. His clothes needed washing, he needed washing, and you’d scrub him clean if you didn’t know he’d stab you if you so much as tried to bring your soap bar anywhere near him. Both of you were in dire need of a proper bath. You’d work him into the idea, you’d already succeeded once when you were less acquainted.
With a sigh, you blindly pat the side of your backpack in search of the pocket holding your caps.
“How much?”
“Thirty per shower.” she answers simply, then perks up to holler at a behemoth of a man waving her over from the back of the bar. “I’ll be right there!”
“Deal.” you chirp and point at the menu. “And a cup of brahmin bone broth, please and thank you.”
“Right away.” Mitzi graces you with another cheeky smile before rushing past the counter and through a door to the kitchen.
You’re close enough for the smell of roasting meat and herbs to waft into your nose, your stomach twists with hunger and gargles in protest. You clear your throat in embarrassment, the jazz music does a wonderful job of disguising the ugly toon. A clatter of pots comes from behind the kitchen door followed by a meager slur of curses that has you hoping your order wasn’t the cause.
After gathering enough caps, you extend your arm to leave them next to the register. Your attempt is shot down by a sharp slap to the knuckles, you glance up at Cooper and prepare to debate why you should be allowed to wash up and spend the money for it. He snuffs out your bubbling protests with a stern look and a dismissive flick of his wrist.
Mitzi reappears shortly after with a tray in hand.
“Here you are.” she lays down a steaming tin can in front of you and scoots to the register, which is mostly used for decoration. “You want the total or separate tabs?” she scribbles down each of your amounts and lifts her eyes to Cooper.
“Total.” he gruffs out and litters the free space on the bar with scoops of caps fished out from his bandolier.
You have to bite down on your bottom lip to prevent a grin and tuck away your money. He definitely knew how to turn your legs to pudding and tie your tongue into submission. Sadly now that meant you couldn’t complain for at least a week.
“Hundred-fifty. Oh!” the waitress sloppily wraps a rag around your drink and squeezes it in place. “Here. I tend to forget smooth-skins have more delicate hands.” she winks at you and proceeds to gather up the payment, combing through it with a long bony finger and counting. “We’ll get to know each other another time.”
Once she was sure of the amount, Mitzi stuffs it all in the hefty pickle jar labeled ‘earnings’, then sealed it shut and stored it somewhere around her feet. She’s back to polishing shot glasses, gives both of you a ginger smile and nudges her head towards the staircase to the right of the counter.
“Enjoy your stay.”
You take the broth and let your fingers soak in the warmth as you follow behind Cooper with bated breath and a spring to your step.
A bed and a shower, you were being spoiled tonight. The covers and sheets are probably old, the room itself is most likely slowly rotting away and covered in grime and dust, but it’s heaven compared to sleeping on the ground with one eye open due to threats skulking about. The last time you’d managed to get a full night of sleep was back in Tillburry, and just the thought of being undisturbed had you going through a plethora of pleasant jitters.
You give the greasy drink, your dinner, a good sniff while climbing to the second floor.
It’s not an aroma that makes you salivate, but you’ve missed the luxury of warm food and the herbs do well at overpowering the stench of boiled beef. Even under the weak light in the corridor, you can tell it’s fatty enough to keep you sated for a while, it’ll have to do. The can is used as a cup for hot drinks, the broth came from elsewhere, either that or you were scammed into eating dog food judging by the peeling-off sticker of a poodle.
You thump over a long red carpet rolled out on the floor, squint at the hacked cough coming from one of the rooms, and then stop a foot away from the ghoul.
He jams the key in and after a deft click, the door creaks open.
Your refuge for the night isn’t as bad as you’d imagined. The bedding is mostly white minus a few stains, the wallpaper is torn a tad, but intact and it’s all relatively clean, there’s even a few trinkets lying about to bring more life. A wall clock is hung above the curved sofa next to the window, it’s not working but it is a nice touch. There’s a night lamp on one of the nightstands, a wide drawer, an ashtray on the table along with two more chairs in case there were more than two bodies in the room. There’s even a deck of cards next to the crystal alcohol glasses.
You watch Cooper set down the bourbon and slouch against the couch with a long exhale before shrugging off his hat and coat and letting his eyes shut for a moment.
“Darn hell, what a day…”
Safety is painted in his mannerisms, you smile adoringly at him and shut the door behind you.
True to her word, there indeed was a bathroom. You switch the lights on and peek inside. The tiles are cracked or missing, it’s old but clean and there’s a bottle of Rad-X among the diluted shampoo bottles. Lovely!
You hear a ripple and whirl your head to see the ghoul lighting a cigarette. His feet are perched up on the table and crossed, his bandolier thrown over the backrest of the sofa, he takes a long drag and strains to push open the window.
“You know Mitzi?” you ask and shed your backpack with a delighted moan before kneeling to zip it open. With your trusty Vaseline and a tiny vodka bottle in your free hand, you join him on the couch, sitting on the opposite end to give him as much space as possible.
“Hm? Sure I do, met some years ago.” he twists to partially face you and pinches the smoke between his lips before grabbing for the bourbon. “Thought you’d wash up first thing. Changed yer mind?”
You chuckle at that and dab the vodka into your palm before rubbing it between your fingers. It’s a mundane little habit you picked up since you learned vodka specifically was almost pure spirit nowadays. Considering the unthinkable things you touched on the hour, from blood to dirt and worse, and without a sink to wash your hands, you needed this at least before eating.
“I’ll shower later. Wanna take a breather first.” you cradle the broth to your chest and take another good whiff before sighing. “Plus, I’d like to drink this before it goes cold.”
“Hope you know tha’ ain’t all brahmin, Darlin’.”
“Let me stay ignorant, please.” you mumble before taking a long sip.
Cooper cackles but decides not to ruin your dinner. You watch him pour a glass of bourbon for himself, mull, and then pour a second one before setting it next to you.
“Mm?” you give him a crooked look, frown with scrunched eyebrows.
“Heavy broth goes good with booze.” he gestures for you to take the offer with a keen smirk. “ ‘Bout time we pop your cherry anyway.”
“Gosh, don’t call it that!” you hiss through a flustered face, but take the glass and ignore his mocking grin.
The jukebox can still be heard from the main floor, it calms your apprehension and you twirl in your spot to open the window fully, looking to the sky for further comfort. You’re intentionally stalling as you swish the bourbon around, elbows rested on the windowsill and gaze lifted to the cluster of stars. A chilly breeze caresses your bare shoulders and you shudder.
“Thought you’d get bored gawkin’ at nothing by now.” The ghoul spits, watching you like a hawk because he refuses to miss your first time trying alcohol. You wish he wasn’t, it adds unnecessary expectations and you’re unaware of how exactly you’re supposed to react. By the smell alone, you’re guessing it won’t taste pleasant.
“I’ll never get tired of the sky.” you muse out loud with an unreadable expression, then face him briefly. “Has it changed over the years?”
You don’t know how old he is, he’s refused to disclose that with you, but from the subtle hints in the past, it’s been longer than the average person. You wish he’s looser, that he trusts you enough to share more about who he is and where he comes from. He seems to know almost everyone you’ve crossed paths with, could work with any weapon and traversed the wasteland without a compass or map and still know exactly where he’s going.
“ ‘Sides the radstorms, not much.” he rolls his tongue over a mouthful of bourbon, then audibly swallows and scowls. He raises his glass towards you, waiting for you to mimic him. “ ‘Nough stallin’ ya pansy, it ain’t poison. Drink.”
Your nose is already wrinkled at the idea, but you oblige him by lifting the drink to your lips. Holding your breath you take a tiny sip and your skin explodes in goosebumps before the fire registers on your tongue. Your taste buds feel defiled, the foulness makes your eyes pop open and you spit before the urge to gag crawls too high up your throat.
First impression: No.
“Ugh…Ew!” a hand clasps over your mouth, obscuring both disbelief at the fact you’d spat straight against the window and pain at the utter nastiness of the flavor. You take the rag wrapped around your now lukewarm broth and wipe off the evidence with urgency. “How do you like this stuff? It’s awful!”
He’s cracking up a storm on the other end of the sofa, having burst into such an abrupt fit that half his drink was running down his vest. You sneer through a glare, hoping he catches your translucent reflection in the glass and feels at least a drop of remorse for your misfortune.
“Glad to make you laugh.”
He tries to say something, a snippy remark most likely, but his gullet is too dry and nothing comes out when his mouth parts. He washes down the hoarseness with another swig of alcohol and tries again.
“You’re doin’ it all wrong.” he’s all up in your beginner technique, even though you weren’t open to be taught how to become a proper alcoholic. Nasty habit that, but he’s given you no choice. “Gotta let it rest on yer tongue, enjoy the taste ‘n go slow.” he can see you sulking even with your back turned to him, can practically smell the discomfort and annoyance emanating from you.
He tones down the decibels when you refuse to face him. Unlike you, Cooper finds the concept of convincing you that drinking is a fun pastime activity strangely thrilling. That, and he’s a horrid old man who selfishly craves to claim all your first experiences, no matter what they are. It’s a vile desire and he’s aware, but the longer you exist in his presence the further his obsessive protectiveness develops. He chalked it up to you being dumb and defenseless, it was natural to become possessive of you and want to keep you safe.
He’d be caught dead before he let some mangy bastard touch you before him or be present for your first cigarette. And he’d take this revelation to the grave because he was too prideful to admit to his urges. This was for your protection, better him, a person you trusted, than anyone else.
“Come ‘ere.” he takes off his gloves and extends a hand to you, beckoning you in the softest way he can muster. “I’ll teach ya.”
You look back at him and the angry frustration simmers down to mild irritation when you notice he’s reaching for you. Tasting that nightmarish poison again makes you queasy, you don’t want to and you’re fussy, but falter for him once more with the intent of giving it another go and then never again.
He’s paid for your dinner, bed, and shower, it’s only fair to entertain his stupid ideas. That doesn’t mean you’re going to smile through the whole thing though, no, you’ll grimace until the end.
He shifts until his feet are firmly planted on the floor as you round the table.
“One last time.”
“Last time.” he repeats through a haggard breath and as soon as your fingers dip into his open palm he spreads his legs farther apart to accommodate a plan you were blissfully unaware of. “Promise, Sweet pea…”
He coaxes you closer, tugging on your hand until you’re standing between his legs, radiating confusion. Guilt prickles his heart, you don’t deserve to be manipulated into succumbing to his perverse advances. It wasn’t even a good lie. Teaching you how to enjoy bourbon…a load of horse shit, but what were the odds that you’d so pliantly let him desecrate you once the concussion and fatigue didn’t stand in the way of clear thinking?
You were vulnerable now and he was a fiend for taking advantage. He’d deal with the consequences later.
The concentration carving his expression is hidden under the guise of darkness as he gently lures you down until you’re hesitantly sitting on his thigh. An arm coils around your waist to keep you in place, you’re face to face and the ringing in your ears increases, completely deafening the music from downstairs. Blunt fingers melt into your supple flesh, deliberately massaging away the prolonged day. You’d had it rough today, poor little thing, you needed some good kneading.
He’d give it to you. Whatever the hell you wanted, you’d have it.
Rotten man. Defiler.
He shakes the thoughts away and feeds on the sugary lavender hints beneath the sweat clinging to your body.
You’re engulfed in warmth and finally, you can put a name to the ever-present musk he carries around – bourbon and cigarettes; the smell of home. Your hands are resting in your lap, pinching at your dress in a nervous tick as you fight to keep eye contact. Inexplicable tension writhes in the air, it chokes you with sadistic glee.
Cooper’s studying your features as they twist, searching for something specific in the involuntary muscle twitches.
“You don’ like it, you call quits. Got it?” he speaks softly, but with authority, already taking another sip and letting it rest in his mouth.
You’re no less lost than you were two minutes ago, left to wonder what he means because your glass is on the other side of the table. But now he’s mute with alcohol and unable to elaborate verbally so you simply nod in understanding.
“Got it.”
No cheeky smirks or mischief is dancing in his eyes. He’s the most serious you’ve ever seen him, it’s nerve-wracking, you’re left to blindly follow his guidance and you trust him, but anticipation has no boundaries. The bedroom turns stuffy and his once welcomed heat is forming sweat on your forehead and pinching at random nerves throughout your body.
He glides a hand to the back of your neck, holds it with solemn tenderness. You make a pathetic noise when he leans you back until you’re cradled in the safety of his arms without leverage, hovering above the sofa as he watches over you with a mellow look.
“Tha’s it…steady, Pretty girl.”
You’re rigid and hesitant in his embrace, don’t know what to do except give in and let him work you like a puppet. It’s humiliating, you want to be an active participant, give him what he wants without him having to hold your hand, but you can’t. The only soothing thought that comes to mind is that he’s a dominant man, he probably doesn’t mind.
Probably even likes it like this.
“This okay, Sweetheart?”
You barely register he’s asked a question, the gravel in his voice seizes your breath.
“Yeah…Yes?”
The ghoul is languid and gentle when he leans forward, taking his time, but you notice the twitch in his fingers, the hidden urgency behind the façade he’s adopted to not scare you away. But he’s still a rugged man, you can tell by the callouses on his palms and the leathery skin on his face as it rubs against yours.
It’s a peck at first, makes you tingle all over. He barely brushes his chapped lips against yours, testing the waters, and dulling your awareness with patience before he shatters and ruins your innocence. But you’re too enticing for your own good. You don’t startle; cling to his vest instead and shiver with a milky moan and his resolve cracks.
With a ravenous snarl, he squishes you against his chest when you offer no protests and the hands that held you are now clutching. He kisses you with a bruising need, changing into a brutish oaf as his tenderness fades. Your mouth opens in a gasp and he lets the bourbon seep past his teeth and ravage your taste buds. The flavor is the last thing on your mind as he devours you whole, a few droplets escape from the corner of your lips and trail down your jaw until they soak into your hairline. Starved of everything soft and sweet, he gorges and palps, litters you with clumsy bruises because he’s forgotten how to handle someone such as you.
He tilts his head to one side and his tongue glides past your teeth to twirl around yours, forcing you to open wide. His eyes are hidden behind squeezed lids, leaving him purposefully blind to your current expression. He didn’t want to see rejection, didn’t want to know if you were disgusted but too fearful to pull away. All he needed was just one moment of indulgence disguised as him teaching you to drink. Let him feast upon you for a bit and he will never touch you again afterward, he swears it.
It’s just to show you how to enjoy a good glass of alcohol.
But you weren’t stupid, you already knew this was all a charade. It’s agonizing when you wrap your arms around his shoulders and clutch at his back. You’re klutzy in your love, a shaking mess as you try to match his pace, but this is too new and with an absent mind, instinct can only tell you so much. Still, you fill his cavernous maw with high-tuned chirps of affection and you’re so pleased despite the uncertainty, you’re aching for him, you’re just as starved if not more.
Cooper wasn’t prepared for reciprocation, it leaves him boneless and barely holding you both steady.
You let your eyes close as well and guzzle down the remainder of the booze from his mouth. A strained growl reverberates in his throat as he cuts down the urge to buck into you. Too soon, not yet. He’s taken enough from you for one night.
You suck in a breath as your knees turn to jelly. Your thighs are quaking; he presses one hand against them to soothe you and earns a muffled mewl. It’s raw lightning, sparking over your skin and making your clothes feel so damn constricting. You’re clawing at your tights, scratching at his sleeves, turned feral with lust and lilting pleas in his chewed-up ear.
A clash of teeth and jerking tongues, muffled sounds of indulged wants and thinned nerves.
He’s intoxicating, gruff to the bone and you avidly drink in everything he offers.
“Greedy little thing…” he rasps over deep breaths once he’s pulled away enough to take in your possum-like state. “So how’d you like the bourbon?”
A dull ache forms in your core at his sweet derogatory coo. You bite the side of your cheek to stifle the vulgar rattle trying to escape the confines of your heaving chest.
He lifts you into a proper sitting position and readjusts your dress back over your legs because he’s a gentleman tonight.
You’re a mixture of labored inhalations and sputtered words, struggling to descend to normalcy and proper manners. It takes you a moment to find your voice, you speak before thinking, high on a newfound addiction – him and his taste and his smell and everything that had to do with him. The knots in your stomach ease, but you’re still absently fiddling with the straps of his vest while trying to regain composure.
“Can we…” you shrink as his heavy gaze makes your throat tighten, lower your eyes in bashfulness but your insides burn and you need that fire sated. It’s his fault you’re like this, him and his sinful vulgarities. “Can you show me again?”
He croons a laugh and bloats with pride, doesn’t even care to take a shot before he latches onto you again.
“Needy girl…So pretty f’ me.”
You’re the one with the lingering hands now, sigh in relief when he violates your mouth again as if being apart had been torture. Nimble fingers intrude on his spine, slipping beneath the loose collar of his shirt and mapping out the marred flesh like it’s a piece of art. He shudders in your hold, mouths something that gets lost among the vocal sloppiness emitting from your feverish kisses.
You’re too eager at the mixed saliva dribbling down your chin, too delighted when he pauses to lick it off and keep you partly decent as he suffocates on his passion. You cage him between your thighs like it’s only natural, nestle down on him because he’s your new throne and he shoves a hand between your bodies to adjust his straining erection before you find out how desperate he is. You’re too spread and willing, unaware of the debauchery your actions hint towards.
He’s a man gone wild beneath you, boiling and unchained and drinking in your wanton display. A blank canvas for you to paint whatever you wished on as you submit to cravings he’d unraveled. He was a perverse bastard, stole your first kiss and hadn’t even made it proper, but there was nothing right in this world anyway. You returned his advances, you were happy, the rest be damned.
You leave his scalding tongue and nipping teeth to pepper his bony face with butterfly pecks. He’s a silent enjoyer, lets you drown him now that you were unleashed, with a ghost of a smile and lazy blinks, mild and content. Time slips past in a blur until you’re finally satisfied, having pruned and memorized every inch of his face.
You’re studying his features while cupping his jaw when the haze fades and you register just how many lines you’d crossed. His hardness digs into your thigh and you wince because you’d climbed him like a mountain, sat on him like he was just a chair and not someone you held dear. You’d taken advantage of his docile form, oblivious to the fact that this was what he’d hoped for from the start. You’d treated him like a tool to cater to your horniness without ever considering how much strain you’d put on him.
Maybe you weren’t as smart as he’d thought. No, that wasn’t it. You trusted him too much. Took his every word as fact.
Your heart is pounding and the trembling returns with twice the vigor as your serene smile dies.
“Oh my God…Jeez! I’m so sorry. Wait! I– ” you blabber while prying away with clumsy movements. You’re sure you’re about to have a heart attack and die on the spot.
What have you done?!
Why didn’t he stop you? Why did he look so high when you’d forced yourself on him without even asking for his consent? All he’d done was try to ease you into drinking and you’d thrown yourself at him like a…
“I’m so sorry. I didn’t even ask you…Why didn’t you say – Sorry. I’m – ”
“Whoaw there, Cowgirl.” he springs to action, forced out of his delightful trance by the utter horror written in your eyes. He grips you before you manage to stand, coercing you in a bear hug. Opposite to your shaken state, he rounds up your skittishness with honeyed words and caring touches. “Easy now, Sweetness. All’s fine, easy…easy.”
He stuffs you in the crook of his neck as you sputter more apologies, nuzzles his cheek in your hair and coos. You’re inconsolable for a time, badmouthing yourself because you knew no better and it’s heartwrenching because it’s his fault for taking advantage of your trust. He rocks you into silence while chuckling, criminally unapologetic.
“Now if I didn’ want any o‘ this I would’a kicked you off long time ago. ‘S okay, Sweet pea, all’s fine.” he palms himself until you can’t feel the incessant poke anymore, the scowls at his meager self-control. “Damn thing got a mind of i’s own.”
You hum in response, whiney and weak. He snorts at your deflated mood, to think his boner would be the cause of worry is comical. He lets a jab slip to bait you out of the cesspool of self-bludgeoning you’d thrown yourself in. He could be truthful and lay out the entire farce before you, but that came with the change you’d never let him near you again. Cooper isn’t a good man, nor a truthful man and what you didn’t know wouldn’t hurt you.
“Now quit yer mopin’, you’re ruinin’ m’ shirt.”
It does the trick. You stiffen against him and choke because how dare he.
“Asshole!” you recoil and land a weak fist against his shoulder. “You’re the one always ruining everything. I’m thinking about your comfort and your consent and trying to be nice and all you ever do is mock me. Awful man! You don’t even use the toothbrush I gave you. And you’re horrible company too.”
He’s laughing for the countless time that night, catches your wrist, then your other one, stifling your tantrum. A grin peeks beneath your stern glare, his high spirits are too contagious, and you wrestle against his unweaving hold without much zest.
 “Too bad.” he gives you one good jerk and you faceplant into his neck, then rests his chin against the top of your head and you can hear the cocky smirk forming. “Is either me or the wasteland, Darlin’, and the wasteland don’ give no kisses, trust me.”
🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼
Chapter 9 >>>
🌼 Daisy Masterlist 🌼
Tag list: @bountydroid @windierhades @ultimatreality @gruffle1 @v3lv3tf0x
@fallout-girl219 @one-of-thewalkingdead @robin-the-enby @savanahc @whatthefuckkrichard
@rockst4rkitty @lisnamavka @lomlbillieeilish @itsyellow @cloudroomblog
@skykaykay @i-just-like-to-read @landlockedmermaid77 @enaelyork @maeplaysbass
@sgt-barnesveins @alastorsw1f3 @villainofmyownstory
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kemsigns · 7 months
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elecflextech · 3 months
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Graphic overlays play a multifaceted role in devices, encompassing functionality, durability, branding, customization, compliance, and accessibility. Read more….
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sinning-23 · 6 months
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Fishbowl (Buggy x Siren!Reader)
I hope you guysss like this one lol it’s been in the works for a minute and is one of the last in the siren/mermaid series! Also sorry for any spelling errors! This one with be a two part red and definitely some angst? Or at least I’ll try lol angst isn’t exactly my specialty!
Anyway, ENJOY!
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Your nails claw at the glass, leaving scrapes and indents in their wake. After being captured by these pirates, you were transported to a large glass dome on wheels. You were panicking, the screeching from your echolocation making passerby’s of the crew cover their ears and double over.
Why you? You hadn't even been by the ship...they just pulled up to the shore of your home island firing cannons as your sisters swam for cover. You directed them, helping them escape only to be grabbed by the hair an dragged to the shore before you could make your escape.
Any mermaid knew what happened when they were captured.... fin scales used for jewelry, the rich meat of your tails used in rare dishes. The your teeth would be grinder down to pearl like where’s, drilled for necklaces. Nausea builds in the pit of your stomach. This was it.
He approached you, lifting you by your hair as your gills opens and close at the side of your neck, an unpleasant, wet sounding “gasp” filling the silence.
“What a treat. My audience is gonna love you.”
You swallow hard, native tongue sliding off with venom. He sneers at this.
“Too bad I can’t understand you sweets.” Buggy chuckles.
He’s got your arm in an uncomfortable grip as he drags you across the sand and flings you into another crewmate. I’m some kind of silent agreement the carry you across the sandy beach to the temporary tank. Your stomach turns, glittery tears falling down your cheeks.
Currently, you keep clawing, scratching, and screeching, and the glass begins to crack at this latest noise. You needed to get out. But before you can fix your voice to scream again, he enters.
"Please shut your mouth sweetheart. You're not going anywhere.” He explains with a roll of his eyes.
You speak again, and of course, he can understand but it’s something along the lines of,
“I’ll kill you when I get out of here.”
_____4 months______
You scratched a tally for each day you were there, the fishbowl now adorned with a stand and a pretty label in fancy blue ribbon and gold paint. He forced you to act in his shows, putting your gifted set of pipes “to good use”. Even though your siren song was powerful, its intended purpose seemed to fade away.
Every song you sang, the sorrow of being captured poured into your notes, making the audience ever more mournful than they already were. Your songs and performances almost always ended in tears now, Buggy’s crew opting to wear earplugs in fear they’d end their lives then and there if they heard one more melancholic tune.
Buggy, on the other hand, was beginning to grow ever impatient. The first two months of shows had gone just fine! His crew and audience were so enamored by your beauty and sound. Now it was just pitiful. But even though it pissed him off his own decisions led to failure, he couldn’t help but want your gorgeous set of pipes to himself.
Often, he’s caught himself in a daze, wondering what it feels like to have you sing him to sleep, your hands caressing his face with a smile and he pulls into a sense of security. Fat chance though…
Besides, you hadn’t even really been properly introduced since that day he surprise adopted you(kidnapped). Perhaps he should make conversation? He shakes his head at the thought, sitting in his designated chair, just watching.
Your scales flash and flicker sparkles of light in the empty tent. Maybe that’s why he captured you in the first place? You were beautiful. And his did he love seeing those pretty glittery tears roll down your cheeks when you’d first met.
A smile plays over his lips when you catch him staring, your eyes narrowing for a moment before you press against the glass, blowing bubbles at him from under the water. You say something he can’t quite hear.
In a curious haze, he stands, walking up to your fishbowl, looking at each tally you’d engraved into the glass.
“Why won’t you let me go?” You hum, the water making your voice somehow sound prettier that ever, the slight muffle making him hum.
“Because I like sad songs.” He jokes, circling your glass prison.
How typical of him, to joke in a serious situation like this, well serious to you at least. He really takes time to observe you, the way your scales seem to be some sort of opalescent chrome.
How your hair floats around your face, your gills opening and closing ever so slightly. He admires the smaller fins adorning your spine and forearms. He wonders if you’re insecure about them.
“Sing for me.”
It’s a demand, and before you can protest, he’s already back in his chair, watching, resting his head against his closed fist.
Even though you feel obligated, your voice and song feel softer now. Almost as if the small interaction with the captain had only slightly lifted your spirit.
And somehow your hymn didn’t seem so dismal.
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renthony · 2 years
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Disney thoughts:
You can't make blanket statements about the quality, ethos, or artistry of Disney-owned media, because the Disney company has existed for a literal century, buys up everything they can get their hands on, employs 195,000 people as of 2022 according to Wikipedia, and spans the entire globe.
"Disney" doesn't make things, they just own them, and they buy the rights to more and more media every single day. There are countless people with genuine talent and heart making the media that Disney slaps their label on, and adopting the black-and-white mentality of "Disney = bad, therefore all Disney media = bad" is incredibly reductive and unfair to all the artists that Disney exploits.
Yes, the corporate Disney overlords censor the artists and water down the art, but doesn't that mean we should be supporting the artists even more, and showing them that we see them, their art, their passion even despite the corporation's meddling? There are so, so many artists working for Disney who are active right now on Twitter, talking in depth about the horrors of the company, but begging people to please still support their art, because Disney didn't make the art and the art still deserves to be seen. There are countless artists in a position of, "make it with Disney money or don't ever get to make it at all, because making art is fucking expensive."
Should we throw up our hands and say, sorry, Dana Terrace, you've made a delightfully charming show about a queer Latina witch girl, but it's got the Disney label on it, so fuck you? Fuck Howard Ashman while we're at it, he poured his queer experience into The Little Mermaid, but we can't talk about that because Disney Bad. Domee Shi directed a heart-filled movie about a Chinese-Canadian girl coming into her own and navigating generational trauma? Eh, it's Disney, so obviously it's not authentic, so fuck Turning Red, and fuck Encanto while we're at it! Yeah, representation matters, but Disney Bad!!!
Disney the company is evil. Disney-owned media is case-by-case. Chapek isn't sitting in his office pushing the "make movie" button. For every shitty cash-grab nostalgia-bait remake they churn out, they're still a company that owns half the world and employs countless artists trying like hell to tell genuine stories. You're not obligated to engage with them, you're not required to like them, but the bullshit take of "Disney bad, therefore everything Disney slaps its name on is just as evil" is the most asinine thing I have ever heard.
That's not even getting into their other media divisions, like book publishing or video games. They have their fingers in every single media pie that exists, and you can't solve industry-wide problems with "Disney bad, never engage with anything that has their name on it."
Some fucking nuance, people, I beg you.
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