#especially with either ill fitting or bits that are not suited for how unsteady the riders hands are

[hwanswerland]

can we stop putting celebrities on horses for aesthetic reasons when they can't ride for shit

[iturbide]

@vitunhienokivi replied to your post: 

Anon what the hell?? "I personally do not like this consept, therefore you shouldn't write for it", is that seriously what you're saying? Kindly throw yourself into the nearest trash can! Also can I just say personally I'd be absolutely stoked to read a fic like this! Especially written by someone like you!!

Well my friend you are in luck because that is one of my current projects in progress!  A lot of Edelgard’s alarming rhetoric started showing up early, and I really feel like it would have been more interesting to have a hand in her path and potentially push back against her, rather than being forced to go along with everything.  So I decided to see what that would look like, and so far I personally think it’s pretty interesting -- though, I will confess that as the author, I’m probably biased. 

(cut for mild 3H spoilers)

Byleth remained unsure of just why they’d chosen to guide the Black Eagles.  It was not that more of them seemed to need support, for while Bernadetta’s reclusiveness was disconcerting, Marianne’s combination self-imposed isolation and extreme self-deprecation had been far more worrisome from the outset.  It was not that more of them needed guidance, either, for Linhardt’s disinterest in all but a handful of subjects paled in comparison to Felix’s hyper-combativeness and Sylvain’s excessive flirtation (in hindsight, they felt rather bad for Hanneman, who was stuck dealing with both of them).  And it was certainly not that any of them seemed better equipped for a mercenary’s teaching style, since Caspar’s enthusiasm for combat paled in comparison to Leonie’s drive to become a fighter in the style of Byleth’s own father. 

Perhaps it had been the odd feeling of the House as a whole.  Among the Golden Deer, the students were only passingly familiar with one another, but Claude himself seemed well suited to uniting them all with his noble status lacking any airs (even if it did spark the ire of his self-appointed rival).  Among the Blue Lions, by contrast, everyone had some kind of history with their fellow students, and all had collectively chosen to rally around Dimitri in some form or fashion (supportive or otherwise).  But from the moment they’d set foot in the Black Eagles classroom, they’d felt a kind of dissonance, for despite their familiarity with one another there was no harmony between them, and no one present seemed interested in changing that (while the one who might have been able had distanced herself from her classmates entirely).

The more they came to know of their students and the Empire’s history, the more it seemed like the Black Eagle House was an exact reflection of the country it represented.  Edelgard, despite her status as House Leader (and Imperial princess), was no more than a figurehead; her fellow students (most all heirs to the nobles that had wrested power from the present Emperor) pursued their own interests and agendas.  The disunity between them all only became more obvious with each month that passed: Edelgard walked among her classmates with Hubert as her ever-present shadow, but never truly connected with any of them, reaching out only rarely (and even then, only ever for House matters) and moving on without opening herself to them or allowing them to do the same...no wonder people found her unapproachable. 

They meant to talk with her about it.  Strange as this teaching appointment was, it felt like their duty to help her connect with the other students...and the sooner the better; should the Archbishop continue assigning such dangerous missions, such distance might one day prove fatal. 

Though the mist had long since vanished, Magdred Way remained dark and cold, all color leached from both the surroundings and the tight clusters of students and knights.  Byleth had not bothered to stay with Catherine while she ensured her target was dead; she had more than enough fellow soldiers with her to keep her safe, and they had more important matters to see to.  Weaving through the disordered ranks, they saw Hubert lurking alongside Caspar and Ferdinand, both looking nearly as pale and drawn as the Vestra heir; while the former showed interest in understanding Lord Lonato’s motives, his fellow students were far more shaken by the militia’s actions and loss of life, and Byleth wondered as they passed what they could say -- what they should say -- to explain it all when they knew too well how senseless it truly was.  The rest of the students huddled in the damp litter near the tree line, showing far more obvious signs of combat stress: Bernadetta had pulled her hood up over her head in a desperate attempt to hide, though it did nothing to soften her whimpered pleas to go home as she huddled in Dorothea’s arms (and for all the strength she tried to muster, the young songstress seemed to be clinging to her friend rather than comforting her); someone had been violently ill not far away, and all signs pointed to Linhardt, his head in his hands and his breathing still unsteady; while Petra stared blankly out at the dreary terrain, whispering something in a language they did not recognize.  

Only Dorothea looked up at their approach, nodding when Byleth indicated that they would be going soon and swiftly helping the other Eagles to their feet, guiding them toward the Knights without any prompting from her teacher.  Leaving her to it, they continued further out, until the sounds of the soldiers faded and only their own footsteps broke the heavy silence...and finally they joined the last of their students where she stood overlooking the recent battlefield. 

“Everyone was a bit shaken by the militia fighting alongside our enemies,” Edelgard remarked, her voice steady and calm in spite of the blood soaking her uniform. 

Byleth shrugged, lifting their hands when she glanced toward them.  <That is the reality of battle.>

The princess sighed, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear.  “If only everyone could face reality so unflinchingly.  The commoners who allied themselves with Lord Lonato believed they were fighting for a just cause.  It would be disrespectful to consider them simply victims when they died for what they believed in.”  Byleth nodded slightly, watching the rest of the students cluster together among the Knights’ ranks, a small island of black amid the silver sea.  “Still, we have no choice but to eliminate those who cling to unreasonable ideas of justice.  Even if our enemies are the gods themselves...we must never lose sight of our goal.” 

They glanced sidelong at her, puzzled by the grand scale of her conviction.  But then, Byleth had never been a religious sort, and the more they saw of this Seiros faith, the more it seemed that a fight would be necessary to change anything at all.

Edelgard seemed shocked when they nodded.  “I’m...surprised you feel that way.”  Silence fell again, heavy with words yet unspoken, and Byleth waited patiently for her to marshall her thoughts.  “...really, I’m just like Lonato,” she murmured.  “I, too, will be the sort of ruler who’s willing to risk the lives of my citizens in service of a higher cause.  It’s not possible to change the world without sacrifice.  Dying for the greater good is not a death in vain.”

Byleth stiffened, hands curling into tight fists at their sides.  But even as they turned toward the princess, they saw Catherine marching toward them at an alarming pace, and set aside their conversation to hear her out.

“Professor...I’m afraid this incident is far more serious than anticipated,” she announced, offering the slightly crumpled scroll she’d been carrying.  The seal had already been broken, they noted while Catherine continued on.  “I found this on Lord Lonato.  It’s a note that mentions a plan to assassinate Lady Rhea.  We can’t tell who sent it, so the source is suspect, but the content is too disturbing to ignore.  We must report this to Lady Rhea right away.  I hope that it’s nothing…”

Byleth nodded curtly, and the Holy Knight turned to ready the rest of the soldiers to depart...but once they were certain she would not turn (and would not see, even if she did), they reached out, stopping Edelgard from following. 

“Yes, my teacher?” the princess asked. 

They could rarely guess at their own expressions, for better or worse.  Often enough, they’d been told they lacked all emotion.  But they saw Edelgard’s brow knit in concern as they released her.  <If you think forfeiting the lives of your people is necessary for any reason, then you are not fit to rule.>

They did not wait for a response.  They merely followed in Catherine’s wake, seeking out the rest of their students and hoping they might find the words to help them in the wake of so much senseless death.

[thesinglesjukebox]

CALVIN HARRIS & RAG'N'BONE MAN - GIANT

[3.62]

Yeah sure you are.

Iris Xie: Deep down, I'm kind of an optimist. That's why I pushed through a solid minute of ambivalent hope, waiting for something better... then I heard the goofy horns, and then I questioned why I even tried. This is blue eyed soul without much soul, set to EDM. Calvin Harris remains very skilled at using elements of soul and house music without doing much to give back to either medium. It's also a shitty Instagram filter of a song, one that turns the world discolored and distorted. I'm just gonna go listen to Gorgon City's "Go All Night" featuring Jennifer Hudson instead for a much better execution of this concept, with big vocals and a celebratory production to match, which also doesn't use Ylvis's scatting, blubbery fox to make a fucking bridge. Argh. [1]

Thomas Inskeep: Oh yay, it's RNBM doing his "I'm a gospel singer" bit (spoiler alert: YOU'RE NOT, you're a big white British guy) while Harris attempts to build an "uplifting," "inspiring" club track around him, and I spend the 3:48 trying to choke back vomit. [1]

Alfred Soto: The organ peels and house piano aren't disqualifying, not when they do their best to offset the gospel bigness. Calvin Harris is trying after a decade of Eurodisco folderol, despite a constitutional incapacity for picking collaborators. [4]

Joshua Minsoo Kim: Rag'n'Bone Man explained that "Giant" is about the eventual role reversal between child and parent -- how there comes a time when one will take care of the ones who raised them. The first verse begins with him creating an image of a divorced parent and the antidepressants they're taking as a result. "I would be nothing without you holding me up" he explains immediately after, following it up with the new truth that is "Now I'm strong enough for both of us." There's a mutual learning and growth that occurs now, but the "standing on the shoulders of giants" metaphor has an implicit chronological component that doesn't suit the sentiment here, especially since Rag'n'Bone Man calls himself the giant. At the very least, this turn of phrase shouldn't be coupled with a line as corny as "We'll be breaking boulders beneath our feet." The horn-filled instrumental breaks are as ill-conceived as the lyrics. [2]

Juana Giaimo: Rag'n'Bone Man said that he wrote this song four years ago but never found the right production until Calvin Harris appeared. However, it is in the beginning, when you still can't hear the typical DJ tricks, that I can hear the deep feelings of fear, loneliness and willingness to fight. Then the keyboards and steady beat and the jazzy drop appears and, although the song still feels powerful, that unsteadiness and tension of the beginning is lost. [6]

Will Adams: I enjoy how present the horns are. Harris spreads them across the stereo field and keeps the backing nimble, allowing their textures to really cut through. It's too bad you have to trudge through Rag'n'Bone Man bellowing platitudes to get to it. [5]

Edward Okulicz: Every time I feel myself succumbing to Calvin Harris's gaudy but effective populism, he does something gross like put Rag'n'Bone Man and his Serious Tasteful Man Singing over it and ruins the effect. This backing track should have enclosed a jaunty trifle, instead it's got a song that puffs its chest out, or arches its back and sticks its tail up to look bigger than it is. I like my good bad taste to be bereft of bad good taste. [3]

Scott Mildenhall: Classically Calvin Harris, with the bonus feature of Comedy Brass Noises and Soul Organ Soupçons. When your every other single is a reprise of your greatest hits, the ever mutating construction of a monument to your achievements, such a statement of self-actualisation is fitting, as well as inclusive. The man never ceases to find ways to repaint the wheel, and for this rootle through Rag'n'Bone Man's bins, long may his reign continue. [7]

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