#imperial toy company

[horsefigureoftheday]

1980s Imperial Toy Company Dragon Pegasus, my beloved<3

[dailydegurechaff]

What is Marry like in this AU of yours?

God I fucking hate Tanya von Degurechaff so fucking much holy shit. Holy shit, every piece of propaganda she's in, every photo, every parade, every video, she's got this painfully serious, annoying as shit, fuckass blank look on her stupid fucking face. Absolutely no part of her ugly as sin piece of shit appearance is endearing. Her stumpy fucking legs? How the hell is someone that fucking short. Her dumb little silver wings medal? Her shitty, round bastard face? The three thousand percent unnecessary dumbass shitass fucking ANTENNAE that no person in her company has EVER FUCKING TRIED TO FIX FOR HER IN tHE HISTORY OF GOD'S GREEN FUCKING EARTH? God, I hate her. I hate her so much. So FUCKING much. Every time I see a White Silver toy or a propaganda poster or a shitty goddamn commercial, it ignites my primal rage response and I'm overcome by the need to punt this shitty little war criminal into the fucking sun. "tee-hee! I'm Tanya, the White Fucking Silver, I like war crimes". Fuck you. Fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you. You look like a shithead little brat. Your dumb fucking antenna hair makes your whole shitty head look like an unkempt street cat. I hate your dumb fucking little button nose and your stupid, stern blue eyes and your over-the-top no-nonsense hardass asshole personality. Any time she smiles it invokes all the wrath and fury of a spoiled child having a meltdown over a chocolate bar in a w*lmart checkout line. And I know its irrational. That's the worst part. I know she's just a single fucking child soldier in a giant fucking empire’s army, I know it doesn't matter, I know I shouldn't care. But that's part of the problem. The part where no matter the might and fury of my hatred, the locus of my homicidal intent is alltogether a tiny piece of a greater evil. I find myself laying awake in the dark in the early hours of the morning consumed by the spirit of Wrath itself, all the force and might of a flaming hurricane directed at a bottle of piss in a ditch by the highway. The absurdity of it all burns me to my core. What better things could this energy be directed towards? And yet my disdain for this stupid, useless, insubstantial failure of endearing propaganda utterly eclipses the intrigue of all other pursuits. I hate her. I hate her on a level of my mind reserved for the worst of the world's array of sinners, and I can't even begin to justify it. Tanya the Evil is, for all intents and purposes, a single facet of the army subjugating the world- a propagandized pawn distilled into the single, hateable form of a shining ideal soldier for every other imperial scumbag to emulate. The fucking. Fuck. I have no words. There is no cuss or epithet in any language that can encapsulate the height of the emotions I am experiencing. God, I hate her so much. I hate her so, so fucking much. I want to light her ugly little dumpster body on fire. I want to graphically beat her to death with the butt of the gun she stole off my father. I want to punch her to death. You know that weird feeling you get, when you see a picture of something so cute you find yourself overcome with the bizarre, inexplicable urge to squeeze it? It's EXACTLY like that, except instead of cuteness it's disgust. The wordless knowledge that her existence as a war hero is evidence of all the failures of mankind. I find myself possessed by the will of a Holy Angel gone rogue with the belief that God has made a mistake, and I alone must correct it. This is the trial by which Samael himself fell from grace. This wild, meaningless rage. A thousand blades of shining steel cast with inhuman force in the direction of a plastic grocery bag floating on a breeze. What horrors must I have committed in a past life to be plagued by this torment now? I must Unmake this sinful child

(x)

[rknchan]

somebody said my wonka design has a “victorianesque” look AND I THOUGHT IT WAS A GREAT IDEA so i proudly present you this

xix century au! catcf

notes: ~those things hanging from wonkas hat are sorta like bells? so they make silly sounds when he walks also theyre made of candy ofc.

~idk what would mike teavee’s hobby be in this au since television is yet to be invented here (so feel free to tell your ideas in the comments/reblogs). this mike reads forbidden literature,,,, also like the original one he has a toy revolver???????? and he challenges everyone to duels

~ the second picture is an edit of an advertisement poster of “Einem” confectionary company which existed in imperial russia. the writing says “my first step to get some wonka chocolate”

[empiredesimparte]

Napoléon V: You're not going to spend all our vacations revising, are you? Charlotte: Unlike some people, I'm not planning to repeat my year

Napoléon V: Joachim and I have it all planned: revise at the last minute, like all normal people Charlotte: A real duo of losers

Napoléon V (ignores, charms): We could rather… go for a picnic on a white sandy beach... then lie against each other and…

Charlotte: Louis, please, I'm trying to concentrate. Why don't you go for a swim for an hour or so, until I finish? Napoléon V: Come on, darling Charlotte: That's a categorical no

Napoléon V: Then I'll go and study too, I want to stay with you Charlotte: Really? Napoléon V: Of course, it's a honeymoon, love

Charlotte: Okay Napoléon V: What are you studying? Charlotte: Economics

Napoléon V: That's the one I understood best Charlotte: I doubt that, darling, you were more diligent in mathematics

Napoléon V: "Imperfect competition refers to a situation of competition in a market where one of the five conditions of pure and perfect competition is not respected" Charlotte: That's the lesson about companies that have a large monopoly, or oligopoly, in the same market Napoléon V: I should send my Uncle Henri to take the economics exam for me Charlotte: It's not that complicated, just look at the chart by the German economist Stackelberg

Napoléon V: I'm a Napoléon, I won't listen to a German! Charlotte (sighs): This is going to take a while Napoléon V: You're giving in?

⚜ Le Cabinet Noir | Honeymoon at Bora-Bora, 4 Messidor An 230

Beginning ▬ Previous ▬ Next

Charlotte is studying for the next École Polytechnique exam, which the imperial couple will take later this summer. Napoléon V gently reproaches his wife for studying instead of spending time with him on their honeymoon.

⚜ Traduction française

Charlotte révise les prochains examens de l'Ecole Polytechnique, qui doivent avoir lieu exceptionnellement plus tard cet été pour le couple impérial. Napoléon V reproche gentiment à son épouse d'étudier au lieu de passer du temps avec lui pendant leur lune de miel.

Napoléon V : Tu ne vas tout de même pas passer toutes nos vacances à réviser ? Charlotte : Contrairement à d'autres, je ne compte pas redoubler mon année

Napoléon V : On a tout prévu avec Joachim : réviser à la dernière minute, comme tous les gens normaux Charlotte : Un vrai duo de loosers

Napoléon V (ignore, charmeur) : On pourrait plutôt... aller pique-niquer sur une plage de sable blanc... puis s'allonger l'un contre l'autre et...

Charlotte : Louis, s'il te plaît, j'essaie de me concentrer. Tu n'as qu'à aller nager une petite heure, le temps que je finisse Napoléon V : Allez chérie Charlotte : C'est un non catégorique

Napoléon V : Alors je vais réviser aussi, je veux rester auprès de toi Charlotte : Vraiment ? Napoléon V : Bien sûr, c'est une lune de miel mon amour

Charlotte : Ok Napoléon V : Que révises-tu ? Charlotte : Le cours d'économie

Napoléon V : C'est celui que j'ai le mieux compris Charlotte : J'en doute chéri, tu étais plus appliqué en mathématiques

Napoléon V : "La concurrence imparfaite désigne une situation de concurrence sur un marché où une des cinq conditions de la concurrence pure et parfaite n'est pas respectée" Charlotte : C'est la leçon sur les entreprises qui ont un grand monopole, ou oligopole, sur un même marché Napoléon V : Je devrais envoyer mon oncle Henri passer l'examen d'économie à ma place Charlotte : Ce n'est pas si compliqué, regarde le tableau de l'économiste allemand Stackelberg

Napoléon V : Je suis un Napoléon, je ne vais pas écouter un allemand! Charlotte (soupire) : Ca va être long Napoléon V : Tu capitules ?

[archduchessofnowhere]

It was the morning of January 30th, a gloomy winter day, the sky being overcast, and snowflakes drifting across the window-panes. I had my singinglesson from the wife of Professor Niklas-Kempner, at ten in the morning as usual (...) When, shortly before, I had returned from the south, I had once again been struck by the change in the Crown Prince, and this time more strongly than ever. He was rarely sober; did not get home to the Hofburg Palace until dawn; and as for the company he kept, the less said about it the better. His restlessness and nervous irritability had become intensified, He spoke menacingly of horrible things, and, in my very presence, would cruelly toy with the revolver he always carried about with him. Indeed, I had become afraid to be alone with him. Still, summoning all my strength of mind to aid me, I went on trying to hide from others’ inquisitive gaze the complete failure of our marriage. On the particular morning of which I now write, the entrance of my chief lady-in-waiting interrupted the singing lesson, and the gloomy trains of thought which were interspersed with it. Her aspect was unusually serious and reserved when she begged me to give her a few minutes in private. She had, she said, an important communication to make to me. I went with her into the adjoining room, and looked at her while, in words hesitant and trembling, she began to talk about bad news from Mayerling. I realized instantly that the catastrophe I had so long dreaded must have taken place. “He is dead!” I cried. Sorrowfully she nodded her head in the affirmative. He was dead; he had fulfilled his dreadful threat, and had put an end to his disordered life. Such was the insufferable climax to all I had suffered, seen, and heard during the last few weeks. I trembled with excitement and terror. Then I begged my informant to tell me, in detail, what had happened; but, as yet, she knew nothing more than the bare facts of the suicide. Soon I was summoned to the Emperor [Franz Josef] and the Empress [Elisabeth]. Accompanied by my chief lady-in-waiting, I went to the private Imperial apartments. The Emperor was seated in the middle of the room, the Empress, dressed in black, her face pale and rigid, was standing beside him, In my shattered condition I believed that they looked on me asa criminal. They assailed me with a cross-fire of questions some of which I could not, and others would not, answer. At length the Empress made up her mind to tell me the whole truth. The most horrible thing had happened which could befall a wife. At Mayerling, early in the morning, the Crown Prince had been found in bed, with his brains blown out, and beside him the corpse of a woman who had also been shot— Mary Vetsera.

Count Joseph Hoyos, one of the Crown Prince’s guests at the shoot, summoned early in the morning by the groom of the chambers, who could get no answer to his knocking at the door of the Crown Prince’s bedroom, had forced an entry and had seen the two dead bodies. Hoyos had made all possible speed to Vienna, and had conveyed the terrible news to Rudolf’s chief chamberlain. It was decided to tell her Majesty the Empress before any one else; the companion and secretary, Fraulein von Ferenczy, being charged with this painful commission. The Empress went at once to the Emperor. The agony of this hour was borne by the parents alone, without any witness of their grief.

Only after that was it decided to acquaint Rudolf’s widow with what had happened. I sat between their Majesties while what I heard and suffered inflicted on me incurable wounds. At length I ventured to tell the Empress what, weeks before, I had tried to say to the Emperor. I spoke of Rudolf’s manner of life, his habits and customs, his associates, how completely his health had been disordered. The Empress, however, stubbornly closed her mind against these communications, and it was an additional distress to me to feel that she was turning away from me. In her eyes I was the guilty party. Though outwardly I remained calm, inwardly I was in a state of collapse.

Princess Stephanie of Belgium (1937). I was to be empress

[bulbabutt]

There's this interesting throughline of the Big Three Kid's Shows in that they're all some degree of Japanophilic in some way or another.

Transformers started because some executives grabbed a bunch of cheap Japanese robot toys, put them in front of a team of writers and animators, and said "Turn this into a cartoon so we can resell these". Mostly nods to the Japanese origins is cute stuff (Dominique Fishback's character in Rise of the Beasts looks at a paper with someone named "Asahi Takara" as a writer, Takara is one of the toy companies in question) rather than anything explicit.

TMNT was fully American-made, at least when Eastman and Laird were inking issue one, but it was a reaction/parody of Daredevil's reboot that was very ninja-y, and by the time the first show was around, and as it's gone on it's been somewhat more respectful of Japanese culture (though despite Saki being a female name and Hamato being entirely made up, those will stick around just because they're too engrained).

Power Rangers was just "take this existing kid's show from Japan, and replace the footage with Japanese actors with a multiracial American cast". At first, they didn't even acknowledge it in the shows. Still, as time went on they started having a little fun with it (Lost and Found In Translation, one of Dino Thunder's episodes, is basically the gang watching a dubbed version of an Abaranger episode that was already goofy even back in Japan but ends with them going "maybe it's weird but it's not bad"). You could argue that this is an example of cultural appropriation or imperialism, or just America having no original ideas and needing to steal from other countries but I wouldn't go that far, and it has been some degree of equivalent exchange. (Japan got made-for-themselves OVAs of the first two and Power Rangers gets redubbed into Japanese for them, so they clearly enjoy it.)

Sorry for the long-winded ask-essay, just had Thoughts and you're smart and cool so you're receiving them.

I actually didn’t even know that about power rangers that’s really interestsing. I guess it’s related to them all being toy shows too, right? Tmnt seems more incidental on account of the daredevil parody like you said (also it has a lot of Orientalism as a result), but for the others it’s originally Japanese toys/shows coming to the west so thats interesting.

also im not smart but i do appreciate receiving interesting thoughts like that

[eorzeashan]

Sindayyy! You know the drill, chose what ya want or all the chellange: “Looks like we’ll be trapped for a while…” “Do you want me to stay?” “fuck you.” - “when?”

“Looks like we'll be trapped here for a while….” Eight murmured, pressing his palm flat against the solid wall of debris that blocked the exit to the network of caves they were currently stuck in. 

Ain’res silently cracked an emergency flare and let it roll on the ground. “I've already contacted ground forces for evac.” The chiss agent patted the dirt and sat down, drawing his knees up to his chest. “Nothing left to do but wait, I guess.” He shivered, rubbing the bare arms outside of his turtleneck top.

Eight caught himself staring. Ain’s crimson eyes glowed in the fire of the torch, alluring in their intensity and framed by long, plush lashes that made them impossible to not be hypnotized by. Speaking from experience, he had been distracted by them on many a mission. This...was one of them. His back to the wall of stone, huddled, Ain’res looked small, vulnerable…delicate. Beautiful. 

And more than that, in need of good company and warmth. Eight’s breath came out of him in a fog. This cave sported a chill; they had time to spare before Imperial forces caught up to them, and he had no intention of wasting his energy on scrabbling at the cave-in. No, rather, there was someone whose needs he'd rather see met in this rare time they had together, finally alone, hidden away from the politics of the Sith and the ever eternal war that raged over their heads.

Eight slowly slid in next to Ain’res, who looked at him quizzically. Suddenly, he tensed. Eight’s fingers slipped past his belt, loosening it and undoing the fly. Their eyes met. Ain’res paused, then nodded. He snaked his fingers past his waistband, their cold touch eliciting a shiver from the other as he trailed them against his bare hip, agonizingly slow. Toying with the elastic, Eight pulled it back further–then let it snap against cerulean skin, leaving red marks on blue. 

“Ah,” Lust awakened within Ain’s gaze, mirroring Eight’s own hunger in his pools of scarlet. He sucked in a breath, watching Eight’s deft fingers dance down to his thighs. He gripped the supple flesh hard between his fingers. Ain’res instinctively pressed into his possessive touch.

“Are you going to play around all day, or do I have to take charge?” Ain’res said breathlessly, a slight pant entering his mocking voice as Eight stroked and rubbed his sensitive areas.

“Easy,” Eight drawled, answering with a sharp smack to Ain’res’ plump ass. “I'm getting there.” 

He leaned in, meeting the other’s lips with his own, savoring the mmmh he elicited from Ain’res as they explored one another’s hot, slick mouths, thick with saliva and want. Fangs scraped against tender lips, biting, tasting. His teasing touch turned more aggressive. A free hand slid past Ain’res shirt as the other ventured deeper, feeling up the sinewy, lean length of his body, tracing his scars that he knew better than a star map, trailing torturously from rib to breast as Ain trembled beneath him. He circled his nipple, the flesh goosebumping from his touch. It formed a stiff peak beneath his palm. He pinched it hard.

Ain’res moaned in his mouth, the sound dirty and loud and barely stifled by their tongues overlapping sloppily with one another. Eight lapped up his voice like warm milk, growing hard in his groin at the noise. 

Encouraged, he found Ain’res’ member, already leaking wetness within his pants and half-hard. He thumbed his tip, smirking at the full-body shudder that ran through Ain’res like a live wire as he ran a finger along his shaft, then wrapped a firm hand around his length.

Ain’res gasped as he began to stroke him off, his rhythm pumping from methodically even to fast and furious as he milked high-pitched whines and moans out of his partner at record speed, ramping up until Ain’res pleas were all that filled the cave. The chiss twitched against him, helpless to this onslaught of sensations. Still, Eight did not let up until Ain’res’ full body shook with the intensity of his barrage, his face coming to be buried in his shoulder, hands white-knuckling his shirt. “Please,” He might as well have screamed, given how his voice in pleasure echoed off the cavern walls.

“I’ve got you,” Eight whispered huskily into his ear, even as his partner's whines turned to frantic pants and half-sobs, “I’ve got you. Come for me, baby.” As if to stir him on, or keep him there trapped with his need, he pressed Ain’res up against his body, one hand directing him by the small of his back, where he could feel every shake and vibration.

“Fuck,” Ain’res gritted his teeth through shuttered breaths, even as every nerve in him cried out for release. His anus clenched, longing to be filled. “Not yet, need–”

Eight nosed past his dark hair, gentle and slow, nudging past the locks braided with gold. Ain’res inhaled shakily as he felt his lips ghost the sensitivity of his neck, pressing a soft kiss to his collarbone that set AIn’res alight with confused desire within. The gesture was so caring, so unexpected, that the next feeling of sharp fangs biting down hard into delicate flesh, sinking into his skin and driving him mad with the pain had AIn’res screaming his name. White-hot loads shot out of the chiss as he came into Eight’s palm with a loud cry, a violent tremor that left him out of breath as the tension exited his body. He slumped against Eight, scarlet eyes fluttering closed as Eight stroked the small of his back, hushing him. 

After a beat had passed, the chiss readjusted against his stained chest. “Fuck you,” Ain’res mumbled in hazy Cheunh, a purplish blush coloring his cheeks, even as his ass remained bare and out in the open. 

“Mm. Next time.” Eight had a nexu’s grin.

They were still stuck here, after all. 

[despazito]

"not every conflict is about American imperialism!" It's not but that's the funny thing about living in a global economy where the corporation has effectively replaced the nation state as a colonial force and everyone wants to buy the best war toys from like the same 5 companies

[transgenderer]

Seven-Five-Three Festival

For the entire month of November the shrine becomes a vehicle to ensure safe passage through periods of physical and social transition in the lives of children. Although there is no formal ritual in the upper shrine in honor of children, November 3 is listed as the day for beginning shichi-go-san mairi. So as not to interfere with a busy wedding season in the upper shrine,19 the lower sanctuary (Gokitoden) is the site for wave after wave of families who wish for some kind of ritual acknowledgment for periods of development in their children’s lives. The phenomenon of shichi-go-san mairi (a shrine visitation in years when girls are aged three or seven and boys are aged five) grew out of customs associated with samurai families during the middle Edo period that acknowledged certain intervals of social development (Nakamaki 1990:152). At age three, for example, girls adopted a more refined way of wearing their hair (kami-oki), and, at age seven, they could wear an obi for the first time in a style more akin to that worn by women. Boys likewise distinguished themselves socially at age five by wearing loose-fitting hakama pantaloons over a formal kimono (a fashion innovation begun in imperial China over two thousand years ago and still a part of the attire worn by Shinto priests). It was not until the Taisho¯ period that the shichi-go-san began to gain popularity, in part owing to the construction of Meiji Shrine in 1920 as a kind of ujigami-sha for all of Japan. However, Nakamaki notes that a book published in 1958 mentions the holiday as gaining in popularity in the Kyoto-Osaka region, so it appears that this holiday is quite new

Since fashion has always been an important part of the shichi-go-san, the contemporary observance of this month-long November holiday finds children brought to shrines in their very best clothes and photographed extensively against the backdrop of the institution; many participate in a short ceremony of purification and blessing as well. Shrines view this holiday as a prime opportunity for bringing children into the sphere of the kami (it is also financially rewarding) and so compete for public attention, placing advertisements in local newspapers or contracting printing companies to post colored advertisements on telephone poles and public notice boards. Kamigamo takes a typically low-key approach, posting generic advertisements here and there in north Kyoto showing a young boy and girl dressed in shichi-go-san finery, with the name of the shrine written in by hand at the bottom.

In the outer courtyard visitors find a sign directing them to purchase three tickets for five thousand yen (U.S. $42): the first will permit them to enter the Gokitoden sanctuary ( just inside the Tower Gate courtyard) and be purified and blessed by two priests in a ten-minute ritual. They will then receive a bag containing candy, coloring and comic books, a small amulet, and the shrine’s autumn newsletter. The next ticket allows them to be photographed by one of the priests; the photo will later be printed on a calendar for the coming year. The final ticket gives the child his or her choice of toys (arranged by gender-specific areas). While five thousand yen may at first seem somewhat expensive for these services, most other shrines charge four thousand yen for a quick wave of the wand of purification and a bag containing candy, a small toy, and a comic or coloring book. Of the twenty-five people I interviewed, no one complained about the price; in fact, most thought the innovations at Kamigamo were creative and well worth the expense

-Enduring Identities, Nelson

charmingly tacky and mercantile. every culture across the world dedicated to dressing their child up in fancy outfits and paying too much to get them photographed

[mbcbrdheun1]

hey (you're wonderful) i just wanted to ask (and so cute) to see if you'd like to share (so cuddleable!) what was the last dream or nightmare that you had! (i would _love_ to kiss you)

I had a dream where I saw an short video ad, set in a dark steampunk vibe future. in it, there was a kid sitting on a hospital bed, with a smiley face similar to🙂(maybe a mask, maybe they just had a weird face)

In the ad, the child said something along the lines of: "Please inform the emperor that I have the dominion imperial absolute factorial right to an appointment with him without question for I am the hopespringer" (big emphasis on 'the hopespringer'! I think there was also like an echo effect on their voice)

At the end another smiley appeared above them, kinda like a logo to a company.

I love that my brain made a pun from "hope-bringer" into "hope-springer".

I think that the child is supposed to be the owner of an unfathomably huge toy company, and they obviously have much bigger ambitions by doing something with the emperor of this world. I find it really interesting that this ill child is one of the most powerful people in this world.

I will definitely incorporate this concept in some way in a D&D game!

(oh yeah also I guess you can kiss me or whatever)

[duckapus]

I have an idea for a cast of characters for a Star Wars/Assorted Video Games crossover story, but not an idea for the story itself.

Me’ta the Knight

A Jedi knight of an unknown species just doing his best to survive during the reign of the Empire. He’s surprisingly good at staying hidden considering he’s a blue orb with big purple feet who travels a lot and has anger issues.

Link and F-I

A stormtrooper who realized he was on the wrong side (and also very very Force Sensitive), and the experimental assassin droid he reprogrammed on the way out. Specifically, F-I was designed by an Imperial scientist named Ivo Robotnik to be the ultimate Jedi hunting machine. Obviously she doesn’t do that anymore, and is now very calm and friendly, even if she does has a bit of trouble emoting. Between the two of them, she does most of the talking.

Shantae, Kreem, and Cheese

A Padawan who’s master was killed during Order 66 and is now living on the run, a little Twi’lek girl who imprinted on her as sisters after her mother died, and their pet window cleaning droid. Somehow the tiny floating squeegee is more homicidal than the literal assassin.

Samus Aran and R3-T0D “Toad”

A Mandalorian bounty hunter and her droid partner-in-crime. Samus is notable for the massive arm cannon she built into her armor, while Toad is notable for the fact that his volume control circuits are jammed at the highest setting, which makes him sound like a Jawa who’s arm got stuck in a garbage disposal(both of them find this hilarious which is why they’ve never bothered to fix it). They’re just trying to make a dishonest living in a galaxy that doesn’t give two shits about them, so they don’t particularly care about the war between the Empire and Rebellion outside of how it affects their bank account. At least, they didn’t care until they found three kids(one of which was a half-trained mini-Jedi) stowed away in their hold, and discover that the asshole who ate Samus’s parents right in front of her and then destroyed the Mando clan that took her in has become an Imperial Privateer.

Dr. Robotnik

A Robotics engineer who designs new droids for the Empire. He also happens to prefer the company of droids to his fellow organic lifeforms, with the exception of his assistant Stone. His latest creation is a line of assassin droids specifically built to hunt down the few remaining Jedi in the galaxy, one of which was stolen by a turncoat stormtrooper.

Ridley

A sadistic pirate who’s recently joined the ranks of the Empire so he can get better funding, the fuzz off his back, and some delightfully deadly new toys to play with. No one knows where he came from, what his personal vendetta against a single random Mandalorian foundling is about, or why he’s a big purple space dragon.

[female-malice]

Are we doing feminist driving discourse?

Well, you already know what I think, right?

Drivers license testing should be rigorous and difficult. It should absolutely not be easy. Everyone should be tested to the same standard. You should need to be just as skilled as a professional driver in order to drive a car. Minors should not have licenses. Drivers should have to retake the test every five years to prove they are skilled safe drivers. Any driver that hits a pedestrian or cyclist should get their license revoked permanently.

No car should be able to go over 60 miles per hour.

Cars are tools, not toys. Cars should mainly be for delivery drivers, maintenance workers, and first responders. Everything beyond that is redundant luxury private transportation.

"But what about feminist independence? What about my cross country road trips?"

Hey, guess what? Car companies do not love you like that. Fossil fuel companies are not going to liberate women. SUVs and big cabin trucks with 4 ft hoods are not a feminist girlboss symbol.

This is it. There's no more time left. It's not 2010. You can't fart around in your car for another decade eating ice cream and cheap cheeseburgers. If that's what you planned for your life, I'm sorry. It's not happening.

Adapt. We need to adapt. We need to adapt all the women in our towns. The most important feminist goal right now is climate mitigation, adaptation, and if we're lucky, restoration. If we don't accept this goal, that means we are not invested in women.

We are in an emergency situation right now. The media and the government do not want us to recognize that. They want us to be weak and helpless in the face of disaster so they can exploit us. Do not sit around and cooperate with their plan! Be bold! Adapt! Carry the women around you forward into the future!

Force fossil fuel interests out of your town and out of the lives of the women around you! Every time your town spends money on car infrastructure rather than public transit, that's fossil fuel interests at work. Every time you use your car when public transit is a viable option, that's fossil fuel interests at work. Every time you imply that a carless woman is a burden on others, that's fossil fuel interests at work.

If you're American, I know everything I'm saying here feels wrong in your gut. That's because of our American socialization. As Americans, we live in the petrostate imperial core. We are socialized into an all-encompassing car culture. Adapting and changing and seeking freedom from fossil fuel interests feels wrong because of how we're raised. We are socialized to believe that cars are freedom and car companies and fossil fuels give us freedom. The reality is, of course, the exact opposite. Car dependency makes it easier for police to track us and bully us. And fossil fuel dependency has stolen our freedom to live in a stable future.

Women will never be free unless we push back against American socialization.

Trains. Buses. Electric cargo bikes. Electric carts. Public community garages. Abolish private transportation. Let's go. Adapt.

[sarenhale]

I finally finished all of Endwalker’s role quests, so I can give my ratings and thought about them:

S: Far from free, Ala Mhigo (HEALER quest)

A: Storm clouds brewing, Limsa Lominsa (MELEE quest), Seeds of disquiet, Doma (RANGED quest)

B: Our aching souls, Ishgard (MAGICAL RANGED quest)

C:

D: Shrouded in peril, Gridania (TANK quest)

Generally speaking, I liked all of them, and the idea behind them. It was a good opportunity to expand on both the nations and their leaders stories and let us spend more time with each. The boss fights with the blasphemies were also all pretty enganing and fun.

My favourite was easily the healer one (now why the hell does healer always have banger quests?? Hell yeah), I liked how they expanded and kinda resolved the Fordola problem or at least explained how they plan to treat this character and the weight it brings on its shoulders. It was cool to fight alongside Raubahn too, since we don’t get a lot of opportunities to be closer to him in the story.

The melee and ranged quests were also very fun, when I realized the Melee one involved us leading the company of heroes, I got so fucking excited because that bunch of crazy guys are my favourite side NPCS in the story, and I was obsessed with them in ARR, it’s so cool to see them coming back. Landenel my beloved. The ranged quest was also fun and I always love an opportunity to hang out with my dudes Hien and Yugiri. I feel like they don’t always get a lot of screentime in the story since past Stormblood, so being with them again was really cool. The Hien burying his toy given by his father was such a sweet scene, and it reminded on how nice this character is, even though we don’t see much of him now. 

The magical ranged quest was nice too, I just got a bit bored at the end, even though the idea was nice and interesting, and resolved the story of the Heaven’s Ward and talked more about what happened to them after the Drangonsong War. I just wish it engaged me more, I feel like I wasn’t as interested and captivated by it as I was by the other stories. 

The tank one is easily the worst one for me. I touched on why i feel like this in the previous posts of me going through this quest, but the quest could’ve talked about a lot of topics that are well worth the story’s time, like the discrimination problem in Gridania, Duskwights lore (and their mistreatment), and that would’ve been a really nice and fitting topic for Endwalker, but noo, we got more Padjal stuff. I like Padjal stories, don’t get me wrong, but we got plenty of that in the Conjurer’s and White Mage’s quests already, these were pretty full of Padjal lore already and satisfied my curiosity back then, I can’t see why we couldn’t have gotten some Duskwight lore or involvement instead, considering all the other role quests literally dealt with ‘the remaining problems in our nations’. 

Doma dealt with the Yotsuyu/garlemald problem, Limsa dealt with the Sahagin and Beast tribes problem, Ala Mhigo dealth with the Fordola/Imperialism problem, Ishgard dealt with the Heaven’s Ward and religion problem.... and Gridania didn’t deal with anything we already knew. They have a problem that is the Duskwight/races discrimination (derived from their country being so closed off) and they didn’t even touch that. We got more of that in the fucking carpenter quests (which were nice). It’s disappointing to say the least. 

The Kan-E- Senna story also felt pretty flat for me, I didn’t really learned much more about her as a person despite some pieces here and there, and the fact that they didn’t give her guard a name STILL when we fought all the quests beside him really irks me. Why they refused to characterize that man more than a ‘random npc just being there’ is baffling to me, where literally anyone else in the quests got a name at least. Beats me.

But yes, these are my impressions on the quests! I like this approach and I hope they keep it for future quests too.

[archduchessofnowhere]

This Barbie is an Empress: Sisi and her dolls (part 1)

So I finally watched the Barbie movie and I'm not who I was before! And while I can't stop thinking about the wonders and horrors of girlhood, I also can't stop thinking about dolls. Because I'm not immune to consumerism.

Lately everyone's been sharing historical Barbies, so you've probably already seen the one Elisabeth got. But that's far from being the only doll of the empress ever made. So buckle up for the compilation of Sisi dolls I found after scrolling for hours through selling websites!

First we have THE doll, released by Mattel in 1996 as a Limited Edition: the Empress-Kaiserin Sissy Impératrice Barbie! A name that has the same energy as Mojo Dojo Casa House:

Based on the iconic Winterhalter portrait, this doll is a lovely reproduction - or it would be, if it wasn't for whatever the heck is going on in Sissy Barbie's head. The Marie Antoinette-esque hairstyle is really my only complain, because how can you mess up Elisabeth's most recognizable feature? Remove that thing from her head and it's a perfect doll.

Surprisingly for a limited edition, this one can actually be found relatively cheap on the internet: I've seen the prices range from 30 to 100 dollars, a far cry from other limited edition queens (the actual Marie Antoinette Barbie costs over a 1000!). By the way, my birthday is 11 December.

Less known is the other Sissy doll Mattel released exclusively in Europe in 1997, with a mini book included in the Italian version:

Since the doll looks more like Ariana Grande than Elisabeth you may think that perhaps it's just some generic princess doll called Sissy. But nope. It's meant to be her:

But Mattel weren't the only ones making Sisi- I mean Sissy dolls. In 1997 a French-Canadian cartoon called Princess Sissi premiered, and of course it soon had its series of dolls made by Giochi Preziosi, an Italian toy company. I tried my best to find all of them, but I'm sure I'm missing a lot here.

The cartoon committed the capital crime of making Brunette Queen Elisabeth a blonde, so the dolls all really look more like Barbies than the actual Sissi Barbies. First we have Princess Sissi, I can't read what Blue Dressed-Sissi and Red Dressed Sissi are, and Skilled Rider Sissi.

Unlike the previous four, these Sissi dolls are deluxe dolls, I guess because they come with a little accessory. Young Sissi (you can't see it well in this picture but it comes with a squirrel that I believe is a character in the series?), Rider Sissi, Great Ball Sissi and Carriage Sissi.

Imperial Bride Sissi, Young Empress Sissi, Court Sissi and Dining Room Sissi.

But of course Sissi didn't come alone! Because you can't play Princess Sissi without the prince:

She's everything. He's just Franz.

The Sissi and Franz from the left apparently can dance, which sounds cool. But with that exception, the only thing different about the Sissi dolls from this post is their dresses, other than that they are exactly the same.

These weren't the only Princess Sissi dolls that I found, but I'm about to reach the picture limit, so I'll leave those dolls, as well as the dolls from the 2015 Sissi cartoon, for a different post. If you know about more dolls based on Elisabeth feel free to add them to the post!

[mitigatedchaos]

Surfer Tourist Guy: "So like, are you a Christmas Elf, or a regular elf?"

Imperial Elf: "Do I look like I make fucking toys to you?"

Christmas Elf, standing behind him: "Oh, is that all you think we're good for? Making toys? You Impe-"

Left-wing Tweeter: "Oh, so you think children shouldn't get toys? Why you-"

Right-wing Pundit: "Oh, so you think children should get toys for free? You Commu-"

Environmentalist: "Oh, so you think toy companies should be able to charge for toys but they should be able to just dump waste for free? Typical-"

Child: "Oh, so you think I shouldn't get to have any toys? Mom says you're-"

Mother: "Oh, so you think you should get a toy just because you're at the beach? I didn't raise you to-"

Surfer Tourist Girl: "Wait, like, what was the question?"

Imperial Elf: "The question was perfectly obvious, you stupid bitch. It was about whether we Imperial Elves have the right to-"

Mother: "Now you just hold on there you vile misogynist. I'll have you know that-"

Christmas Elf: "Well excuse me but this wasn't about you, and it's certainly like a gnomish woman to make it all about herself. Now this vile-"

Gnome, just arriving: "Sounds like I just heard some anti-Gnomism-"

[ Scene from Bird Island: The Twitter Musical, 2031 ]

[redlightofdawn]

Daemon gets the strap 1/?

I have no excuse for this. I am trash.

HotD - Daemon/Rhaenyra (Explicit, but this part is mostly banter and negotiation)

Pegging, cockcages, femdom, erectile dysfunction, first time bottom

cw: setting-typical... everything, really. you know what you getting into if you decide to read this.

Summary: Daemon has an uncooperative penis but Rhaenyra knows quite a few ways around that, and is more than willing to teach him.

-

Daemon drank sloppily from his cup, restraining himself by a hair from throwing it once it turned empty.

He had disappointed his new lady wife enough for the evening, he thought bitterly.

It wasn't, unfortunately, a new occurrence. He'd had lovers who'd been good about it - Laena, Mysaria - and those who had been insufferable about it - notably Rhea and, less importantly, an assortment of paid companies who had come off worst for it.

But the fact did not change that his mind could be willing, but his flesh often would not.

He shouldn't be surprised Rhaenyra had come looking for him, once she quietly slipped into his chamber, but he shouldn't have. Not many men dared face Daemon when he was in a mood, but Rhaenyra had always been braver than a whole pile of so-called brave men.

"Are you calmer, my husband?" Rhaenyra asked, as if she could not see the wine staining his clothes nor the many other signs of his internal turmoil.

"Much, dear wife," Daemon said, with false cheer. "Though I am afraid no consummation will be had tonight."

Rhaenyra was a woman grown. She had been wed - a sham, but one who produced a good amount of children, regardless of who had fathered them. His admission should be enough for her to understand - might have heard rumors about him before, in fact.

But Rhaenyra rolled her eyes as she had when younger and brasher, and dismissed his bitter words with a wave of her hand.

"There is time for that," she said, imperiously, surprising him. "I had plans to present it to you at a later time, but as the situation has created itself, I might as well. Come, I have a gift for you," she extended her hand in offering, hanging in the air as a chance. "If you trust me, that is?"

He shouldn't. Rhaenyra had been intriguing since she should have been far too young to be so. The fire she had mentioned burned inside all Targaeryans, yes, but beyond - she was a force of chaos and determination, and the years apart had only solidified in his mind that she had become an equally woe-inducing woman.

But he had learned, with Laena. That there were riches that could only be paid for in vulnerability.

He took Rhaenyra's hand.

"Show me."

*

"I hardly think this will help the issue," Daemon said rather crossly as he watched what Rhaenyra was doing between his legs, but didn't push her away or move in any manner that would interfere with the precise loops and knots she was forming.

"It is not meant to," his infuriating, intoxicating niece said, and he made himself hold back threatening anger. He knew Rhaenyra and she always had a plan. "It is meant to teach you that enjoyment can be had regardless."

Always a plan, indeed.

"I fail to see how." His testicles and shaft, upsettingly soft despite Rhaenyra's handling, were constricted inside the most devious apparatus, constructed out of several thin, leather straps and a metallic portion.

A cage, more specifically. Designed to keep him from becoming intumescent and erect, from what he could understand. It would make touching the sensitive spots around the head impossible and also seemed to put his testicles in a particularly exposed and precarious situation.

Despite himself, he was intrigued.

"That… toy," she smirked around the word, and a shiver ran up Daemon's spine, "can be played with in many ways. Tonight, I thought we might pair it with another favorite of mine."

"Well, where is it?" Daemon asked impatiently when she did not move to procure such an object.

She simply smiled back and moved to rummage inside a medium jewelry box that had been conspicuously left atop the mantel.

"The fire helps keep it at a nice temperature," she said, conversationally. Daemon could only see her back, her body blocking whatever she was doing with the box, but it was quite clear when she undid her robes and let them drop to the floor, without turning around.

She was mostly naked underneath, long silver hair loose in beautiful, pearly waves, but he would see a series of leather straps around her hips and thighs, though at first he could not make out its function.

It became quite clear once Rhaenyra turned around, however.

"It has a silver core, but is covered in layers of silk, wool, and, finally, bound in calfskin. I am told it is quite a good imitation of the real thing."

Though Daemon couldn't say that, in his experience, the real thing tended to be quite that big. Though his own personal experience wasn't as vast as it could have been - not as vast such as, for instance, Laenor’s.

Who, Daemon had a feeling, might have had something to do with his current wife owning an attachable member, nevermind its awe-inducing shape and.. size.

"You taught me about the pleasure to be had in lovemaking once, uncle," she said in Valeryan as she approached the bed, stalking like Daemon was prey, the phallus between her legs bobbing in a mesmerizing way with each step. "Now let me teach you."

"What exactly do you intend to do with that?"

“Your cock is not your only place of pleasure, though most men seem to neglect this." That at least confirmed Daemon’s suspicions - he’d heard of such things, but never been intrigued enough to inquire further.

"And what is in it for you?"

"I enjoy the sight," she admitted, with a leer. Then, she placed her right foot atop the bed, spreading her legs and showing where the base of the phallus continued inside of her. "Though I am not entirely selfless in this act. It brings me plenty of pleasure, believe me."

"Have you ever used it upon yourself?"

Rhaenyra seemed intrigued with the idea.

"I have not, in fact. Perhaps you might join me in that experience in the future."

Daemon imagined himself wearing the apparatus, an unbendable, ever-hard, unfailable cock.

He had done less intriguing things, he had to admit.

And he had had experience stuffing a lover both ways at the same time, something that seemed to always be good fun all around. Usually it was done with three people, but two would be more than enough with such a ‘toy’, as Rhaenyra had called it.

“Then make me a deal, wife,” Daemon said, and wasn’t it strange to use such a word as endearment - Laena hadn’t been partial to it, choosing to define herself as apart from Daemon, something he had respected. But Rhaenyra shivered in pleasure when he uttered the word, and it had the effect of making him rather partial to it. “You’ll get a turn now, but I will have mine later.”

“One could say you are about to take a turn,” she said, coming to sit atop Daemon’s lap, her hands coming to rest on his shoulders. “But sure, I will take your deal. A fair exchange.” And that infuriating smile was back, and wasn’t Daemon lucky she hadn’t known how to smile like that when she was younger.