#*if vale. failure

[moonshynecybin]

“marc may sound like someone who wants to flatter the former world champion and be in his good books, but just one look at his eyes and you realise his sincerity and respect. his impression changes a bit when we ask him about jorge lorenzo.” valentino when i CATCH you…

this makes me think, do you think vale was aware marc didn’t fuck w jorge and that’s part of the reason he felt so betrayed? that marc would go so far as to collude with JORGE because he just doesn’t want vale to win that badly. or were he and uccio just doing everything to make it stick

i think he genuinely thought it was kinda funny (marc im assuming is also somewhat modeling this behavior based on being a huge childhood fan of jorge’s two main archrivals: vale and dani. like it’s not an accident he pulled that shit on jorge in THAT corner at jerez OR that he called it VALENTINO’S CORNER in 2017. like my man that is literally lorenzo corner 😭), until he needed an excuse for everything to make sense in his head and uccio in his ear and an evil spanish alliance supported by dorna (also spanish) became an attractive option to him AND to the italian media. you’ll notice how he tells the story today it’s not like well him and jorge talked and decided to lose me the championship it’s well marc decided to ram himself purposefully into the side of my motorcycle as early as argentina 2015 specifically because he hates me. like idk i think the relationship collapse at the tail end of 2015 is absurdly ego driven, and jorge is kind of incidental to the emotion of it… it’s about THEIR relationship, it’s about marc trying to fuck HIM over because he wants to beat vale in terms of titles… jorge (insanely) is a convenient little backdrop to the conflict because he happens to be the guy who is actually faster in the moment and who has beaten vale in the past, but marc is the SYMBOL of getting older and getting slower and all of those nasty feelings knotted up inside him that he’s managing by falling back on nasty old habits… and crucially to vale, he was also a FRIEND first…

[redularium]

Valerie “Vale” Lyure !!!

My beloved OC whomst i hold near and dear and love forever and ever. there is none like her to me … ouagh shes so silly and a FREAK

She has glasses but she never really wears them because she thinks it makes her look like a Mega Nerd . she needs it to read stuff that are far though. and that r too small. theyre supposed to be green but as you can tell . lazy !! and i do not like colouring… ouagh

[thesteamhunk]

okay but like night vale nra told me that guns don't kill people. no one's ever been killed by a gun. so, really, if carlos has a gun and fires it and someone dies it's not because of the gun!

Exactly my friend! It won't be Carlos' fault at all! He will be a crime free man, as guns don't kill people at all!!

[talesfromthenorsesmouth]

It's very rare but, every so often, Edward says something that reminds Vicki why they used to be friends; he usually ruins it in the next moment, but she appreciates the occasions when they happen

everyone's hair gets bigger everytime i draw it, i think. in fact, i have decided, Edward just has Good Hair and he hasn't done anything to deserve it, he spent all his Riddler years bleaching and dying it and now he washes it in the sink with cheap shampoo and it's just... still healthy and thick, and honestly, this would be reason enough to hate him quite apart from all the other things

[clonerightsagenda]

Was not expecting for the alt history dystopia podcast to take the stance "fairies are real" six seasons in. Although there *were* the mentions of monsters in the forest in season 4 so I guess it's not entirely out of left field.

[vaeolus]

one of the strongest forms of community bonding is when a sports team that is notorious for sucking ass for years finally gets good again. there's so much hope in the air. such camaraderie. i ask someone "how are you" and they say "i'm wearing a lions hat!" because that's enough. that's all we need to communicate

[syndrossi]

Rhaella and Daemon telling the twins that they are going to have a new sibling.

Of course I can't do anything fully happy, but it's still cheerful enough, I hope!

x~x~x

The way her sons’ brows furrowed in determination when preparing to argue for something they knew would meet resistance never failed to make Rhaella smile, because they were perfect mirrors of one another. She knew what would follow, of course. Jon would make his appeal to reason, and Rhaegar would neatly tailor his argument to best complement it—citing precedence, or invoking sentiment.

What made it all the more endearing was that they held the greatest of power in their hands. The mere mention of their childhood in the Vale—a childhood that wrenched her heart to glimpse in moments of great stress or vulnerability—would shatter any resistance their father might think to mount. And yet neither would ever use it.

Not for the fear of his rage, which burned the hottest for those stolen years and occasionally stirred dark memories for her of another rage, fueled by vanity and wounded pride. But rather because they knew their father’s heart and sought to guard it against such pains.

It did mean that they had to employ their arguments more creatively, which is how she found herself listening to their third attempt at persuading Daemon that they should be allowed to ride their young drakes.

Jon was adamant that it would allow them to better defend themselves, to more efficiently plan journeys by dragonflight, and that it was the safest means of travel from one point to the next. Rhaegar meanwhile cited ancient dragon texts that claimed the deepening of bond between rider and dragon was most crucial when it neared drake size. Then, ruthlessly, he pointed out that Daemon’s council business left him with less time for flights with them on Caraxes.

It took Daemon a brief pause to recover from the blow. “Does the prospect of flight on Vermithor not excite you?”

Rhaegar’s gaze shifted to Rhaella, suddenly uncertain, and her stomach fluttered. He knows.

It should not surprise her. He had been present for so many pregnancies, long and short, and all of them bitter in the end. He would know the fear that haunted her. Aerys had not been cruel, at first. But with every failure, both within her womb and without, he had come to resent her. To blame her.

To join the chorus of doubts within her own mind. Had she eaten this, or not eaten that. Had she slept more. Had she endured the maester’s examinations with more grace. Had she managed to drink his vile concoctions—or tossed them out the window.

It had been so difficult to know where the poison lay, the garden or the seed.

Or perhaps she had been cursed at Summerhall itself. Or perhaps all those lives had been spent so that her firstborn could breathe.

“I shall not be riding Vermithor for much longer,” she said gently, and the faint grimace on Daemon’s face told her that he had forgotten that approaching limitation.

Jon regarded her with confusion. “Why? Is he hurt?” His gaze swept her, then flicked to Rhaegar and back. “Are you hurt?”

“I am with child,” she said, forcing her lips into a smile. This body had not devoured its young yet. Perhaps it would be different. “I shall need to be careful for a time.”

“Oh.” Jon blinked, then he smiled at her, the radiant in his elation. “Those are happy tidings.” His hand reached out, then faltered, and his eyes went to hers in question. She nodded, and he gently touched her stomach. “Hello, little sister—or brother.”

She felt the babe within kick, as though in response. “That is the hope.”

Rhaegar’s hand clasped hers. “Whatever you need, you need only tell us.”

She squeezed his hand, and took a breath, commanding the fear away. “I shall need your help in choosing an egg for the cradle.”

Jon’s smile turned sly. “If we were allowed to ride our dragons, we could more easily attend to our mother’s needs.”

His boldness startled a laugh from her, and she felt the babe kick harder. This one is strong. She pressed a palm to the swell of her belly. Out here awaits all the love and joy your heart could desire, little one.

[abessive-art]

CARLOS, THE SCIENTIST - “Last week. Seven Days. 24 hours each day. 60 minutes in each hour. That's 10,080 minutes in a week, right?” THE VOICE OF NIGHT VALE - “Uh huh. Go on?”

CARLOS, THE SCIENTIST - “Well, I ran some figures, and during that same amount of time in Night Vale, 11,783 minutes elapsed everywhere else in the world. That's more than a full day longer. I don't know what's happening.” LOGIC [Easy: Failure] - You feel like time always slows down when you two are together. Is that what he's trying to say?

THE VOICE OF NIGHT VALE - “... Neat!”

[commission info]

[atopvisenyashill]

Im jonsa curious sometimes although i go back and forth on if it could happen or not, but if it was never a thing in grrms mind one thing that is wild to me is telling us that sansa was ‘wildly in love with waymar royce’ whose first chapter is literally to forshadow Jon like why even make that a point at all in affc when in agot sansa thinks of the royces she never mentions that crush interestingly enough

yeah so the sansa-royce connection is interesting and feels a bit purposeful to me!

For one thing, Sansa's chapter at the tourney is really focused in on how the Royces do - she recognizes and follows Robar, Yohn, and Andar as they compete in the tourney. She then brings up Loras unhorsing Robar (which is right before Loras gave her the rose). And of course the crush on Waymar.

And then Sansa gets to the Vale! She can't sneeze without running into another Royce there! Nestor, Myranda, Andor, Bronze Yohn himself....and the interesting thing about Bronze Yohn, is well-

The senior branch of House Royce was close to open revolt over her aunt's failure to aid Robb in his war, and the Waynwoods, Redforts, Belmores, and Templetons were giving them every support.

He and his branch are still pissed that Lysa kept them out of the war. You know, the war Sansa's brother fought and died in? Not to mention that the exact same Waynwoods, Templetons, and Royces that Jocelyn married into are all surrounding her as well.

"Bronze Yohn knows me," she reminded him. "He was a guest at Winterfell when his son rode north to take the black." She had fallen wildly in love with Ser Waymar, she remembered dimly, but that was a lifetime ago, when she was a stupid little girl. "And that was not the only time. Lord Royce saw . . . he saw Sansa Stark again at King's Landing, during the Hand's tourney."

And Bronze Yohn knows Sansa.

So I think the Royces are about to show up and show out for Sansa in a big way! I think she's been purposefully linked to them because they're going to be one of her biggest supporters come TWOW. I think that's why the Waymar crush, the Myranda friendship, and the Bronze Yohn connection are all included, to set Sansa up for an alliance.

What IS really funny as you say is that Waymar is really here to help foreshadow some of Jon Snow's story arc - an "extra" son that has the First Men look joining the Watch, starting off very full of himself and his privilege but being able to rise in so many rough occasions especially when it comes to the Others....and the Sansa crush. lol, lmao even!

[fox-guardian]

[ID: A comic done in purple and orange featuring Cecil Palmer from Welcome To Night Vale and Reigen Arataka from Mob Psycho 100. Cecil is colored in purple while Reigen is colored in orange. Cecil is a mid-sized older white man with a mullet, body hair, a mustache, large tentacles, and long nails. He is wearing earrings that spell "hot" in dangly letters, a short sleeved peasant top, a plain tight-fitted skirt, calf-height platform heels, cat ears, and a seatbelt as a belt. Reigen is a Japanese man with short hair wearing a suit.

The first panel shows Cecil posing smugly with his arms crossed while swinging Reigen into the ground with one of his four tentacles wrapped around his leg, causing the ground to break beneath Reigen. Reigen is shielding the back of his head from the impact with his hands. In the upper left corner reads "2023" in parentheses. Above Cecil reads "56%" and above Reigen reads "44%".

The next panel shows just Cecil in more detail, holding up his nails as though he'd been looking at them. They sparkle. He no longer has his cat ears. He's facing to the side, smiling, but his eyes look towards Reigen and the viewer. He says "hmph".

The final panel shows Reigen, now with Mob, a middle-school aged Japanese boy with a bowl cut and wearing a school uniform. Reigen is dying on the floor with his soul leaving out of his mouth and Mob kneels beside him, saying "you did you best, Shishou". end ID]

~~~~

how we feelin gamers. cuz i'm feelin GREAT (yes i based that first panel on the one scene from mp100, no i have never Actually watched the show)

(also lemme know if i need to change anything in the description!)

(EDIT: adjusted ID to account for my cat ear failure)

[moonshynecybin]

meee i love vale i really truly do, 2004 forever one of my fav season to rewatch, and i love giving him grace cause that’s really the only fun way to engage with the whole dynamic (his dad, sic, marc is no saint and is indeed crazy etc) but like those bikes were on marc’s shelf. and he was 22. we can spin it how we want but he did release the italian media hounds on 22 year old marc who still went to sleep under 30-40 valentino mini bikes! and i think you handle this sooo well in your posts like in any au setting i’m always like “yup they’re both flawed and yet there is a Villian here!”

(and sidenote but i like that you’re firm on sepang 2015 cause a couple weeks ago there was a weird shift here where i think people overcompensated a bit too hard and i’ve seen more than one post along the lines of “maybe vale had a point”) (i blame lorenzo for this tho)

i do try to come at with some nuance (marc wasnt racing like an angel and wasnt handling his failures like an angel etc) but then i think about the line of toy vale bikes in his childhood bedroom that he collected throughout 2013, and how the only book on marc's stupid shelf was a vale book (love conquers illiteracy <3), and how vale incited a media backlash against marc that got him death threats for literal years and caused him to lock down large facets of his personality in public at the age he shouldve been idk. graduating college if he did that sort of thing. and then im like should we KILL this guy chappell roan

[howi99]

Project ARC remake 18

Vale

Cinder: Urgh, i can't believe i have to work with the likes of you.

Tyrian: *chuckling* Well, the pleasure is all mine, it seems. Her grace wasn't too pleased with your recent... failure.

Cinder: Tsk, the thing that attacked me, it wasn't human.

Tyrian: *shrug* Human, Faunus. They all bleed the same.

Cinder: *roll her eyes* Maybe, but they also die when you plant your sword in their heart.

Tyrian: *intrigued* Oh?

Cinder: The thing only stopped when i took a part of gis aura. *Sigh* What a waste. I had her in my grasp!

Tyrian: *smiling* Well? Did he at least give you a name before you killed him?

Cinder: IF i killed him... And yes, he said Jaune.

Tyrian: *stop in his march* Jaune, eh? *Chuckle* What an... Interesting name.

Cinder: *looking at him* You know something?

Tyrian: *shaking his head* Oh nothing, i was just remembering one of my most wonderful pieces of art. His scream was... Ah, a melodious song to my ears. I sadly didn't have the time to finish my concerto before the police arrived. *Sigh* Such a waste.

Cinder: ... "I hate that guy".

_____________

Meanwhile

Jaune: *looking down at Glynda* ... Did you get shorter?

Glynda: *tears in her eyes* No! *Hug him* It's you who became taller!

Jaune: *surprised* I did?

Glynda: *smiling while still hugging him* Oh Jaune, i have so much to tell you!

[novankenn]

Jaune et Carro Veloce

Jaune was feeling miserable. His skills were so far below his peers that it was laughable... in a pathetic way. Though his academics in everything but things specifically associated with fighting grimm duties were well above the average. Wonders of the public school system.

So after another desperate failure in Professor Goodwitch's combat class, he wandered off. He heard his friends and teammates calling after him, but he just walked away without a word. Wishing to avoid any and everyone he took the stairs down into the basement of Beacon.

It was dark and damp. The overhead bulbs giving very little usable light. Reaching into his rear belt pouch he pulled out a small flashlight. Say what you would about his performance in combat... Jaune was adept at being prepared for mundane things, like basic wilderness survival.

He looked about, and wandered. His footfalls echoing about the dusty and cobweb cluttered corridors and rooms. There wasn't much of interest. Most of the rooms being either completely empty, or holding boxes of books. Jaune had opened one of the boxes finding it filled with Professor Port's Autobiography "The Heroic Age of the Indominable Sir Port of Vale."

Jaune: Must not have sold well.

Jaune tossed the book back onto the pile of boxes after flipping through it quickly, and continued his exploration. Pulling out his scroll he checked the time. He had been gone for a good three hours and his screen was filled with missed call and message notifications. Sighing he put it away, deciding he would answer a little later.

Turning a corner he saw a massive shadowed filled room. Cautiously he approached, using his flashlight to try and pierce the darkness. Having no success he turned his attention to the near walls, and quickly located a bank of light switches. Flicking them all on he flinched as blaring bright white lights came to blazing life.

Jaune: Oh... wow...

Jaune was stunned by what he found. The room was massive, and filled with artifacts from the Great War and the Faunus Revolution... specifically mobile terrestrial heavy weapon plate forms...

Jaune: Tanks... wow... Tanks on Tanks...

Jaune turned off his flashlight and stowed in away, as he wondered about, his eyes alight with excitement he hadn't felt in ages. While he wasn't specifically a weapon geek like Ruby, he did have a guilty pleasure, aside from comics... and that was tanks. In particular tankettes. While he admired the utility and power of the larger more impressive pieces, he absolutely adored the very much smaller, and faster mini-tanks.

Jaune: An Atlean Panzer IV. A Vale Sherman Firefly. A Vacoan T34, and a Mistralian Tiger I !!!

Jaune wondered, totally forgetting about contacting his friends, which further flew out of his thoughts when he saw it. With a shaking hand he reached out and touched the welded steel armor plating.

Jaune: A Valean Carro Veloce CV33 with twin 8mm machineguns... and over there is the conversion for the 20mm Anti-Material Gun!!!

Jaune was in awe and excited beyond measure as he hovered around what he would call an adorable tankette. Until that revelry was shatter by a voice from behind.

Ozpin: Are you enjoying yourself Mr. Arc?

Jaune: Ah... um...

Ozpin: You are not in trouble Mr. Arc though I was not aware you held such an affinity for... such antiques.

Jaune: Antiques!!! These are pieces of artwork! Form and function made reality! Iron and steel powered by flame and thunder, manned by bone and blood!!!

Ozpin: Please calm down. I only came to see if you are alright. You friends are worried and security alerted me to you entering this area.

Jaune: I'm sorry, I'll...

Ozpin: I already said you are not in trouble Mr. arc. Far from that in fact.

Jaune: Huh?

Ozpin: It is a shame that these icons of human and faunus ingenuity lie here moldering away. How would you like to pick one?

Jaune: Huh?

Ozpin: Pick one. Restore it. Beacon will provide the funds, and maybe you could get others interested in doing the same.

Jaune: This one!

(Imaged sourced from Girls und Panzer wiki)

A/N: Girls und Panzer is a fun Anime... and I get a real kick out of this small Italian Tankette. I want my mind to envision how it would fight against grimm..

[superiorsturgeon]

Ruby: *hugging Penny* I’m so happy we got you back, Penny! Third time’s the charm, right?

Penny: This is actually my fourth body! When we met in Vale you saw my second model!

Ruby: What was your first model like?

———————————————————

Ironwood: All right, doctor, let’s begin.

Pietro: *flicks switch*

Penny v1.0: I AM A ROBOT. I AM HERE TO TAKE AMERICAN JOBS.

Penny v1.0: *beats up a bystander*

Penny v1.0: *steals a fedora and briefcase before charging off to terrorize the populace*

Ironwood: …so this counts as a-

Pietro: A failure, yes…

Penny v1.0: I AM PROGRAMMED TO BE SCARY.

*sounds of screaming civilians*

[alkaria]

The irony of Ruby spending a volume thinking she’s a failure, that she’s made mistakes wherever she goes, that she only ever makes things worse... only to return to Vacuo and see before her eyes all the successes she’s had. The friends she fought for, who came together at Beacon. The allies she made, who saved Haven. The tower she helped raise against all odds, in Atlas. 

The world, she spoke to, who heard her ask for help and said “we’ll do whatever we can.” And they came. From Patch, from Vale, from Mistral, from Argus, from Mantle, from Atlas, from Menagerie, they came.

Salem doesn’t face a school unprepared or a kingdom divided this time. She doesn’t just face a kingdom united.

Ruby did the one thing Ozpin never could. Now, Salem faces a world unified.

Because of one simple thing. A smaller, more honest soul.

The Girl Who Spoke To The World.

[i-scan-your-poems]

Hi! Do you know what type of poem/meter is used in William Vaughn Moody's "Pandora's Song"? I'm obsessed with it so not knowing is driving me nuts. Thank you!

"Of wounds and sore defeat I made my battle stay; Winged sandals for my feet I wove of my delay; Of weariness and fear I made my shouting spear; Of loss, and doubt, and dread, And swift oncoming doom I made a helmet for my head And a floating plume. From the shutting mist of death, From the failure of the breath, I made a battle-horn to blow Across the vales of overthrow. O hearken, love, the battle-horn! The triumph clear, the silver scorn! O hearken where the echoes bring, Down the grey disastrous morn, Laughter and rallying."

Scansion:

"Of wounds / and sore / defeat [3] I made / my bat/tle stay; [3] Winged san/dals for / my feet [3] I wove / of my / delay; [3] Of wea/riness / and fear [3] I made / my shou/ting spear; [3] Of loss, / and doubt, / and dread, [3] And swift / oncom/ing doom [3] I made / a hel/met for / my head [4] And / a floa/ting plume. [3 acephalous] From / the shut/ting mist / of death, [4 acephalous] From / the fail/ure of / the breath, [4 acephalous] I made / a bat/tle-horn / to blow [4] Across / the vales / of o/verthrow. [4] O hear/ken, love, / the bat/tle-horn! [4] The tri/umph clear, / the sil/ver scorn! [4] O hear/ken where / the e/choes bring, [4] Down / the grey / disas/trous morn, [4 acephalous] Laughter / and ral/lying." [3]

Metrical form: It starts out in iambic trimeter (with some trochaic inversions) and moves into mostly iambic tetrameter.

Rhyme scheme: ABAB CC DEDE FFGG HHIHI

Notes: The lines I've marked as acephalous are a bit ambiguous; the first syllable in each of them could be either stressed or unstressed depending on how you emphasize the phrase, in my opinion. So "From the shutting mist of death" could be either acephalous tetrameter, – / ◡ – / ◡ – / ◡ –, or it could be trimeter, ◡ ◡ – / ◡ – / ◡ –.

Now I'm a little obsessed with this poem too! What a cool piece! And what a cool sound: clearly metrical, but switching up the number of feet per line, and always rhyming but repeatedly switching up the rhyme scheme.