#Richilde

[kronieken]

Vlaams Vlaanderen ten westen van de Leie

Het verdrag van Keulen uit 1057 zorgt voor een tijdperk van vrede. Vlaanderen gaat er nu met reuzenschreden op vooruit. Boudewijn schenkt verscheidene privileges aan de burgers. Voorrechten die alleen maar de welvaart ten goede komen. De Vlaamse steden krijgen hun eigen besturen zoals dat eerder al gebeurde in Brugge. Het gaat over erfelijke schependommen die alleen maar rekenschap aan hun eigen…

[warmchrysanthemum]

This is what I see in my head when someone writes "sesbian lex":

[dreamconsumer]

Portrait of Richilde d'Ardennes (or Richilde de Provence) second wife of Charles the Bald.

By her marriage, she became queen and later empress. She ruled as regent in 877.

[venicepearl]

Richilde of Provence (c. 845 – 2 June 910, Kingdom of Lower Burgundy) was the second wife of the Frankish emperor Charles the Bald. By her marriage, she became queen and later empress. She ruled as regent in 877.

[foundtherightwords]

Knight Shift

Pairing: Hellcheer

Summary: Desperate for a job, Eddie takes on the night shift at a remote convenience store in Hawkins while also preparing for his side gig as a historical reenactor. Everything is fine until the night a robbery goes wrong and a pretty EMT shows up...

Chrissy, who moved to Hawkins two years ago and now works as an EMT, is trying her best to prove herself. So when a call comes in for an attempted robbery at a convenience store, she doesn't shy away from it. Little does she know the night will bring more surprises than she expects.  

Word count: 4.6k

Warnings: very brief mentions of violence and vomit

A/N: A surprise Valentine's Day fic! I wasn't planning to write anything for Valentine's, but then I saw this post and thought it sounded like a situation Eddie would get into, and then I looked into the Society for Creative Anachronism and thought it sounded fascinating (it also helped that I'm in the middle of my Hellcheer medieval AU), so I wrote this in 2 days!

I took some of the wording from the post itself. The quote at the beginning was taken from an actual Middle Kingdom newsletter (Hawkins, being in Indiana, would be part of this Kingdom). The flyer was my own creation though.

Troubles are brewing in the Middle Kingdom. In the canton of Hawk's Inn, the disgraced knight Sir Edward the Banished returns to his home with the hope of reclaiming his honor and restoring his good name. Will the people of Hawk's Inn, who had turned their backs on Edward years ago due to a youthful mistake, embrace their son once more, or will they turn him away for good?

***

A Royal Greeting from your Sovereigns, King Alaric and Queen Richilde: Exciting Adventures Ahead!

Greetings, noble subjects of the Middle Kingdom,

As we usher in the new year, Her Majesty and I are filled with excitement and anticipation in what lies ahead for Our kingdom. It is a privilege to sit upon the thrones of this mighty realm, and We look forward to sharing many adventures and moments of joy with you all in the coming months.

... We have much to look forward to in the coming weeks and months! We are particularly eager for St. Valentine's Day, when Our Canton of Hawk's Inn/Barony of Roane (Feb 10th) will host the Tournament of Chivalry. This event, now in its 25th year, highlights the true celebration of honor, skill, and valor - qualities that Our kingdom holds in the highest regard. We are looking forward to seeing a great turnout, with many returning knights and combatants (and some new faces!) from across the kingdom coming together to showcase their prowess in the lists. This will be a day of mutual respect showcasing the high ideals that make the Middle Kingdom such a noble place....

- February 1990 issue of THE PALE,

the official newsletter of the Middle Kingdom,

Society for Creative Anachronism

***

"Nobody wants to work the night shift," said Rick, the store manager, as he ushered Eddie into the dingy closet that served as his office.

"We're in the middle of bumfuck nowhere, and every couple of weeks, some drunk or punk or junkie—hey, that rhymes!—would try to rob us. They don't get much—not that there's a lot to get, and insurance usually covers it—but it's a bit of a hassle. Think you can handle it?"

"I've worked as a barback at The Hideout," said Eddie. "I think I can handle a few drunks."

"Don't forget the punks and the junkies!" Rick exclaimed, clearly pleased with his joke. He grinned at Eddie, showing off a mouthful of teeth that wouldn't look out of place being unearthed in an archaeological dig. "So, you want the job?"

Eddie sighed. So far, Rick hadn't done much to sell him on the job's positive qualities, but Eddie was desperate, and Rick knew it. Anyone who applied for the night shift at a convenience store on the outskirts of a small town in Indiana has to be.

"Yeah, I want the job," Eddie said.

"Great!" Rick clapped his hands with relief and pulled out a contract from his desk. "Say, you from 'round here?" he said, as Eddie was filling out the form.

Eddie looked up suspiciously, as he always did whenever someone mentioned his past. Still, if Rick had to ask, that meant he didn't know Eddie or his family history. "Why did you ask?"

"It's just that we don't get a lot of new people here. Only drifters. This ain't a place for people to come and stay."

"Tell me about it." Eddie rubbed his eyes. "I grew up here. I left a few years ago for college, and now I'm back."

"Why?"

"My uncle was in an accident and couldn't work anymore, so I'm taking care of him." Eddie slid the contract across the table toward Rick. If Rick cared to find out, he could look up the Munson name and discover all the unsavory stories surrounding it—though none directly tied to Eddie. But somehow Eddie didn't think Rick would care.

"That's nice of you," Rick said. "So you used to work at The Hideout, eh?" he continued, nostalgia clouding his eyes for a moment. "I'd wasted a few years of my twenties there. Why'd you quit?"

"I didn't," said Eddie. "It got closed down." Hence his desperation. He needed the money, but he didn't qualify for student loans, and Wayne's disability check could only stretch so far. Just a few more months until he got his teacher's certificate and a better job—or at least one that didn't involve him dealing with robbers once every two weeks.

Rick put the form away without even looking at it. "Right!" he said, pushing back from the desk. "Let me show you around."

Eddie hung back, a little hesitant. "I got one question," he said.

Rick looked wary. "Which is—?"

Eddie lifted the hem of his shirt out of his jeans. "This isn't going to be a problem, is it?"

Rick's eyes popped. "What the hell is that?!"

"Chainmail. You know, like armor."

Rick looked from the chainmail under Eddie's shirt to Eddie's face, then back to the chainmail. Eddie could almost see the regret forming in the manager's mind. Clearly, he thought he'd hired some freak. "It's not some medical or"—here Rick glanced around and dropped his voice—"kinky thing, is it?"

Eddie had to laugh. "No. I'm a member of this historical reenactment group. You know the Society for Creative Anachronism? We recreate medieval tournaments, battles, and—" Eddie noticed Rick's eyes had started taking on the glazed look most people would get when he told them about the SCA, so he cleared his throat and continued, "Anyway, I'm training to be a knight, so I'm wearing this around just to get used to its weight."

The SCA had been one of the few reasons that made Eddie's return to Hawkins bearable. He'd thought he was done with the shitty place for good, but when Wayne got hurt... well, he had no choice. It wasn't like he was making big bucks with his history degree in Chicago anyway. To discover that the SCA had built up such an active presence in the area since he left had been a pleasant surprise, and it was nice to go to their fighters' practice a few times a week, to forget about his problems, to be Edward the Banished and not Eddie "the Freak" Munson.

"I can put my uniform shirt over it," now he said to Rick. "It doesn't show at all—see?" He dropped his shirt again to demonstrate.

Still staring at the shirt, Rick took a pack of nicotine gum out of his pocket and popped one in his mouth, chewing. Now he was the desperate one. He needed a night clerk. Could he accept one that seemed... a little weird?

In the end, Eddie's willingness to work nights trumped his taste in medieval attire.

"Make sure it doesn't show, OK?" Rick said.

Edd nodded, breathing in relief. "You bet."

Rick extended a hand with nicotine-stained fingers—the gum didn't seem to be helping—toward Eddie. "Then welcome aboard. Or however you say it in old-timey English."

Eddie smiled as he shook Rick's hand. "I'm pretty sure they say 'Welcome' too." He was going to mention that the word originated from the Old English phrase "ƿil cuma", which meant "a desired guest", but he decided this was enough medieval history for the night.

For all of Rick's warnings, Eddie's first month at the store went by without incidents. Sure, there was the promised trio of drunks, punks, and junkies, but they were harmless. Eddie even let a few of them sleep off their high or drunkenness in the bathroom until it was safe for them to go home. Rick wouldn't like it, but what Rick didn't know wouldn't hurt him. Most of the time, it was just lost drivers needing direction or the occasional horny teenager too embarrassed to buy condoms close to home. Eddie grew to like the quiet and used the time to read, do his homework, or draw up sketches for his D&D campaigns.

So that night, when a guy in a hoodie came into the store, Eddie thought nothing of it. It was a cold night, so the hood pulled low over the head was nothing suspicious, and Hoodie Guy looked no twitchier or shiftier than the average night shift customer. After a minute or two browsing the shelves, he went up to the counter and pointed to the glass case behind Eddie, asking for a pack of Marlboro.

Eddie put down the battered copy of Herodotus's History that he was reading, marking the page with an SCA flyer, and turned to get the pack.

"No, not that one, the red one," said Hoodie Guy.

With a sigh, Eddie reached a little higher for the pack the guy was pointing out.

Thump! Something—or someone—hit him between his shoulder blades, almost knocking him into the case. Eddie whirled around. Hoodie Guy was hanging with half his torso over the counter, his arm outstretched.

"What the hell, man?!" Eddie said, scowling. "Did you just hit me?"

An astonishing change came over Hoodie Guy. His face under the hood went ash gray, his mouth dropped open, and his eyes bulged in their sockets before rolling into the back of his head, as the guy slid off the counter and onto the floor, out cold.

Eddie looked over the counter at the unconscious man, nonplussed. Rick had been adamant that Eddie was not to budge from the counter, never, not under any circumstances—except for maybe a fire. You never know when an apparently unconscious or otherwise helpless man may be an attempt to distract and rob. So now Eddie just stood and waited, while the chainmail bit uncomfortably into his shoulders.

A minute, two minutes passed by, and then three, then four. Hoodie Guy remained on the floor, unmoving. Shit. He could be playing a game of chicken and waiting for Eddie to make a mistake, or something really was wrong with him. And either way...

"They don't pay me enough to deal with this, you know," Eddie said, even though he wasn't sure if Hoodie Guy could hear him or not. Then, with an exasperated huff, he went into the manager's office, picked up the phone, and dialed 911.

***

"Nobody wants to work the night shift," Chrissy's supervisor, Powell, had told her the day she joined the Hawkins EMS team. "We're a quiet town, but with all the woods and farmland around here, there's a lot of ground to cover. You may have to drive miles out of town because a farmer is having a heart attack, or some kids are messing around and get into an accident in the Quarry or on Lover's Lake. That's happened before, you know," he'd added ominously. "Think you can handle it?"

"Oh yes, sir," Chrissy had said with what she'd hoped was a confident smile. "I've seen all sorts of injuries during my time on the cheer squad and as a lifeguard in high school."

But Powell had looked skeptical, and so did the rest of the team. Chrissy didn't blame them. A city girl, coming to this small town in the middle of nowhere, all on her own—she knew what they thought of her. She knew they all thought she was running away from something, and she would come running back to her old life the moment things got tough. Well, they weren't wrong about the running away part, but she'd be damned if she came back to Chicago, back to the perfect little life her mom and her ex-boyfriend had planned for her. No, Chrissy had come to Hawkins to live her own life, and she would not quit.

And so in the past two years, she'd kept her head down and worked, worked, worked. She took double shifts back to back without complaint, she volunteered for the night shift that nobody wanted, and she was first in line when there was a bad pileup on the highway or a chemical leak at the nearby research lab. Anything to prove herself.

"They've pushed the night shift on us again," said her partner and driver, Joyce, when Chrissy reported to the station that night. "That's four in a row this week."

"I don't mind," Chrissy said.

"You should!" said Joyce. "Just because you're the only single gal on the team doesn't mean that you don't want an evening to yourself. We all have lives outside of this job."

She didn't, not really, but Chrissy refrained from saying that. She only pointed out, "You're single."

"Yes, but I'm nearly fifty and my boys are grown, so it doesn't count, does it?" Joyce smiled to soften her words.

"Does that mean that when I get a boyfriend, I'll get to work the day shift?" Chrissy said, half-joking.

"You get that boyfriend, and we'll see."

Joyce was the team mother, and as such, she saw it as her responsibility to look out for Chrissy. Chrissy smiled back at the older woman, though a little doubtfully. Joyce was right. She'd been so focused on working and saving up that she hardly had any time for herself, not to mention that the pickings of eligible young men in Hawkins were awfully slim. Then she chided herself for thinking of such frivolous things when there were more serious matters at hand.

A call came in, disrupting her thoughts. "Male, in his 30s, loss of consciousness," said the dispatcher. "Joyce, Chrissy, you're up."

The address was a convenience store just off the highway. As they drove up, Chrissy's heart faltered a little. It was one of those 24/7 places that looked like something out of a horror film, with the harsh neon lights always on, shining down on a sad selection of snacks and soft drinks. Now those lights were also shining on a man stretched out on the floor in front of the counter, and on the clerk standing behind the counter with a mystified look on his face.

Joyce checked on the unconscious man, whose vitals seemed to be stable. They moved him onto the gurney, and while Joyce called it in, Chrissy went up to the counter to talk to the clerk. She couldn't help noticing he was quite nice-looking, the clerk. When she first came in, focused as she had been on the patient, she'd only seen a shock of shoulder-length dark hair and a tall, rather intimidating silhouette. Upon closer inspection, the hair turned out to be soft curls framing a handsome face with nice, kind eyes, and the silhouette was still tall, but in a comforting rather than intimidating way. He wouldn't look out of place riding a white horse on the cover of a Harlequin romance. Perhaps not as muscular as those cover models, but still...

No. She was here to do her job, not to ogle some guy, no matter how cute he was. Chrissy took a deep breath and asked the clerk what had happened exactly.

"Well," the clerk began. His name tag, she noticed, said Eddie. "He just came in, looked around, came up to the counter, and asked for this specific pack of cigarettes, so I turned to get them—"

He turned as he spoke to show her his movement. Chrissy caught a glimpse of his back and thought she, too, was going to pass out.

Sticking out from his back, between his shoulder blades, was a knife.

"Oh my God!" she breathed out, gripping the edge of the counter. The clerk, Eddie, started to turn back to her, and Chrissy remembered her training. "Don't move!" she shouted. "Are you OK?"

"Yeah, I'm OK," the clerk said, sounding confused. "What?"

"Just—don't move."

She vaulted over the counter and ran up to him. There was no blood on his back or on the knife. But how was this guy still walking about and talking?! She carefully felt along his back and recoiled. Something hard yet flexible—like scales—moved under his shirt.

"What the hell are you wearing?!" she said, her training forgotten again.

"A chainmail shirt," said Eddie the clerk, like it was the most normal thing in the world. "I have to get used to the weight, so I wear it a lot. Why? Is something wrong?"

"You have a knife in your back!"

He twisted his head around and tried to see the knife, but as it was lodged between his shoulder blades, it was clear he couldn't.

"Uh... no, I don't?" he said. "I mean, I don't feel hurt? He only, like, punched me or something. There's no knife back there—I mean, I'd know if there was a knife back there, right?"

"I can assure you, there is most definitely a knife in your back," said Chrissy, trying to keep calm. What the hell was taking Joyce so long? "Keep still, I'm going to pull it out."

Although she knew one must never pull a knife out of a stab wound, this was a special case, and until the knife was removed, she could not assess how serious the injury was. Bracing one hand against his shoulder, she yanked at the knife with the other. It was stuck more firmly than she expected, and the sensation—oh God! She'd never felt anything like it. Somehow, the worst broken bones she'd had to set never felt as gross as wrenching a knife out of what she believed was flesh. The grating sound of the blade sent shivers up her arm and down her spine, and suddenly and unceremoniously, she bent over and threw up.

"What on Earth is happening here?" Joyce exclaimed as she came into the store and took in the scene—Chrissy leaning over the counter with her dinner splattered on the ground in front of her, and Eddie the clerk running back from the bathroom with a wad of paper towels. Some he handed to Chrissy, the rest he spread over the mess Chrissy had just made. Then Joyce caught sight of the knife still quivering on Eddie's back and her eyes widened. "Young man, there's—"

"Yes, yes, I know, there's a knife in my back," Eddie said impatiently. "I'm perfectly all right, unlike Miss"—he peered at Chrissy's nametag—"Cunningham here, so could you take care of her please?"

"No, I'm all right too," Chrissy said, even though she was dying of shame on the inside. In her two years as an EMT, she'd prided herself on never losing her nerves, yet now, faced with a knife—there wasn't even any blood!—and she was as squeamish as a trainee, her arms turning into noodles. "Please, Joyce, see to his back—"

Joyce calmly walked over to Eddie and, in one swift move, yanked the knife out.

"You should really be more careful," she said, handing it to Eddie.

"It's not mine! It belongs to the guy you have in your ambulance out there."

Joyce rolled her eyes. "Great, now it's an assault and robbery too? I'm going to have to report this." She went outside again.

Chrissy wiped her mouth with the paper towel. "Thank you," she said to Eddie.

"Are you sure you're OK?" he asked. "Do you want some water, or maybe some ginger ale? I find that helps a lot with an upset stomach."

Chrissy shook her head. "No, it's fine. I'm fine."

"Well, I'm having one." He grabbed a can of Vernor's from the nearby case and handed Chrissy one as well. "I'd much rather have a beer, but I'm not allowed to drink on the clock."

"I'm not either." Still, Chrissy took the can of ginger ale gratefully. "Let me clean up this mess for you," she said, indicating the pile of paper towels, but Eddie gently pushed her back.

"No, no, that's my job," he said. "You do your job, and I do mine."

Chrissy pressed the can of ginger ale to her face, hoping to cool off some of the blood burning beneath her skin. "I'm so sorry," she said.

"Why?" Eddie's voice was gentle.

"I came here to take care of you, and now you're taking care of me."

"Hey, we all have our bad days," Eddie said with a shrug.

Something in the way he said it sent a new wave of confidence coursing through her. She wasn't a failure just because she threw up once in front of a patient. Straightening up, Chrissy tried to gather any remnants of professionalism she still had. "I'm going to need to examine your back," she said.

"Do we have to?" Eddie said. "I don't feel any pain or anything."

Chrissy gave him her best imitation of Joyce's "mom" look. He relented and pulled off his uniform shirt. She wasn't sure what to expect, but underneath he was wearing a chainmail shirt, an actual chainmail shirt, like in those medieval movies. And it was heavy. Together, they got it off him, and even before Chrissy removed the linen shirt underneath, she knew he wasn't badly injured—no one who had a stab wound in his back could move his arms and shoulders so freely—but she was nothing if not thorough. Eddie turned his back to her, and a very nice back it was too, lean but sturdy—somehow the word lithesome snuck its way into her mind. Focus, Chrissy.

She found a small cut from where the tip of the knife had nicked him. That was probably why she had such a hard time pulling out the knife—it had been caught in the riveted links of the chainmail, not his flesh, thank God. She cleaned the cut and put a Band-Aid on it, just in case.

"May I ask why you're wearing chainmail?" she said. "Does the store get robbed so much that you have to wear protective armor?"

Eddie chuckled at her attempt at a joke. "No, I'm training to be a knight. I'm with this medieval reenactment group."

Chrissy almost laughed. Here she was, imagining that Eddie wouldn't look out of place as a knight in shining armor, and he was one!

"I think I've seen them around. Is it like a Renaissance Faire thing?"

"Not quite. Those are more for entertainment, while we're more focused on education and the study of medieval life. But some events are open to the public too. Actually"—he reached toward a book on the counter, pulled out a flyer being used as a bookmark, and handed it to her—"here's one next Saturday that I'm attending."

Chrissy looked at the flyer. In old-timey font, it said:

The canton of Hawk's Inn

In the Barony of Roane

Hereby cordially invites you to

ST. VALENTINE'S DAY TOURNAMENT OF CHIVALRY

February 10th, 1990 from 9:00 am to 9:00 pm

Site: Starcourt Convention Center, Lot No. 4281, 10 Old Highway 77, Hawkins, Indiana

Fee: Adult Registration $10.00, ADULT MEMBER $5.00,

Minors 6 to 17 $2.00, Children 5 & Under Free

Family Cap $20 Member (2 Adults, 3 children 6-17) – additional $5 per Non-Member Adult

This was accompanied by a woodcut print of two knights jousting.

Eddie explained, sounding a bit embarrassed, "I'm studying to be a history teacher."

"That's great!" And, perhaps because he had been so open to her, she added, "I'm saving up for nursing school." She had never told anyone this, afraid of jinxing it, afraid of being seen as a loser if she couldn't achieve it, yet somehow, she had no problem sharing it with this strange, funny guy she'd just met.

"To our future success then," said Eddie, raising his can of ginger ale in a toast.

Laughing, Chrissy raised hers in return before drinking deeply, the sweet, spicy soda warming her up. "This explains why the guy fainted," she continued, returning to the subject as Eddie put his chainmail back on. "Not every day the man you just stabbed turns around and yells at you with the knife still in his back."

"It's good to know that my chainmail works at least," Eddie said with a grin. A dimple flashed on his cheek, making Chrissy's heart thump in her chest. Then, just as quickly, the dimple disappeared as he turned serious again. "What's going to happen to him?" he asked, indicating the ambulance outside.

"We're going to report the incident, and the police will probably want a word with him."

"Is that necessary?"

Chrissy stared at him. "He tried to stab you."

He shrugged again. "But I'm fine. Guy's probably just desperate. I mean, you have to be, to rob a place like this. Like I said, we all have bad days. If you could leave out the stabbing part in your report—it's too difficult to explain anyway."

"That's very kind of you," Chrissy said in wonder.

Eddie looked a little abashed. "Don't let the people at the tournament hear you say that," he said. "I'm trying to create this dark, mysterious persona for my knight character."

"Well, perhaps you can be a dark and mysterious knight who actually turns out to be kind to those who know you."

Her words seemed to have hit him unexpectedly, and there was an emotional gleam in his eyes as he looked at her. He really does have nice eyes, she thought. Large and round, like a puppy's, fringed by long lashes, dark brown under the harsh neon light, but she bet that in sunlight, they would be a warm amber...

With her impeccable timing, Joyce chose that moment to enter the store, with the knife still in her hand.

"Well, the guy woke up," she said. "Hypoglycemia. As for the stabbing"—she waved the knife—"he's very sorry and he won't do it again. What do you say, Chrissy, shall we give him some glucose tablets and let him go?"

Chrissy and Eddie glanced at each other, sharing a conspiratory smile. Eddie's dimple dipped and rose again, and Chrissy's stomach fluttered in a way that had nothing to do with its recent emission.

As she and Joyce prepared to leave, Chrissy tried to give the flyer back to Eddie, but he pushed it back toward her.

"You should come and see us," Eddie said. "We don't fight with real weapons, but it can be a lot of fun."

Was he asking her out? Despite what Joyce had said, Chrissy had had her fair share of guys hitting on her while on the job, and she could always turn them down with a sharp word or two. With Eddie though, she found that she didn't mind, and the thought made her feel a little shy.

When she said nothing, Eddie continued, sounding rather flustered, "If you don't want to, that's fine." He continued in a rush, with the air of someone taking a leap of faith, "But I'm here every night, so if you ever have a craving for discount jerky or chips or ginger ale, I'm at your service."

Chrissy looked at the flyer in her hand and looked again into his smiling brown eyes and his dimples. If he had taken a leap of faith, why couldn't she?

"Maybe I'll see you at the tournament," she said, tucking the flyer into her jacket.

If Joyce noticed Chrissy smiling to herself as she climbed into the ambulance, she made no comment on it. She only looked in the rearview mirror, at the reflection of Eddie standing at the store entrance to watch them drive away, with the same smile on his face. Joyce watched the two kids with their private smiles as if their secret were not open for the whole world to see, and, remembering a time when she was just as young and foolish and hopeful, she smiled to herself as well.

Perhaps the night shift was not so bad after all.

THE END

[transsexualraskolnikov]

well. i have come to the realization that if one chooses to write historical fiction, one should know at least something about history. big trouble, guys.

what if i wrote a toxic dyke erotica set in the 5th century frankish empire. what then.

[littlewomenpodcast]

About Snow White, The Prince And The Trauma (And Greta Gerwig Stuck In A Mirror)

Well friends, it has officially started. I have received requests to roast the new Live Action Snow White, the moment it appears and I don't even want to see it hahah. I have been working on a new video essay about the glorification of male abuse in Gerwig's movies, and I hope to release it before Christmas.

Here are my thoughts about the original animated Snow White from the 1930s and the fairy tale and the meaning of the prince. When I post this I have not seen Gerwig’s live-action Snow White and I don’t know if I have the stomach to watch another movie where she tries to shovel white feminism down my throat. According to the leading actress and the director, there is not going to be a prince in the movie, dwarfs are idiots and Snow White is a girl boss.

To be honest I don’t think Greta Gerwig cares at all about feminism or any of the original sources of her movies. I think she only cares about fame and money. The reason why I dislike white feminism or pop feminism, however, you like to call it, is because it is never about equality. It always tends to be more about misogyny. It is not about equality to all genders, body types, or races, it is all about ”I am superior to you”. When I heard that she was going to direct the live-action Snow White, my first thought was ” That is very ironic”, because at its core Snow White is a story about the destruction of narcissism, but when it comes to this live-action, all I see is Snow White messaging ”I am not the fairest of them all, am superior to you all”.

But what if I don’t want Snow White to be a girl boss? What if I like her just the way she is? with all those Beth March vibes and all.

The prince is not very present in the 1937 animation, which I think is a bit of a shame, he seems like a good guy. I would have given him more screen time. There is a German story called Richilde, which is an early retelling of Snow White and it is believed to have inspired the Brothers Grimm to write their own version. In Richilde after the prince saves Snow White, they actually start plotting together against the evil queen. It is quite nice that there is at least one version, where the prince is more active and I always support a couple getting to know each other before the wedding.

I always thought that the evil queen killed Snow White’s parents. We know that she wants power. Maybe she killed the first queen and tricked the king to marry herself and I guess she left Snow White alive, because killing her might cause suspicions and perhaps she wanted a free slave to herself.

When I think about the prince, I think he is a crucial part of Snow White’s recovery. Specifically recovery from trauma. Let’s imagine she is five years old when the queen murders her parents. Queen forces her to be a slave at her own home. She needs to do the laundry, cook her meals, and wash the stairs. Together with all that labour, she very likely experiences physical abuse and emotional abuse. You can not show this directly in a Disney film, but I’d say the scene where the old witch brings her the apple, is a very good example of emotional manipulation.

If you grow up in this kind of environment, where someone is a narcissist, there is always gas lighting. We know that Snow White likes to think the best of people, she might have thought something in these lines ”oh the queen didn’t think I was productive enough today, so she only gave me dry bread to eat, at least she remembered me”.

Small gestures of caring, might appear bigger in the mind of the victim, than they are in reality. She eats the apple because she feels sorry for the old woman, but also because the witch is pressuring her to eat the apple, and Snow White is conditioned from a very young age, to believe that abuse is normal.

Another 13 year old girl in the middle ages, might not have done the same, not if they recognized that it was manipulation. Narcissistic people play mind games, so much that they twist your views on reality.

It is possible that when Snow White lives in the palace, other servants were told not to be friends with her, otherwise the queen would punish them, which would also explain why we only see her having animal friends at the palace.

She has a kind heart, which is why the dwarfs like her and the prince falls in love with her, but if we think about her trauma,

this 13-year-old girl has faced years and years of emotional and physical abuse from the queen.

The queen killed her parents and made her to be her slave,

Snow White was forced to escape to the woods at night, which can be a scary experience even for an adult,

queen tried to kill her friends,

the queen tried to kill her more than once

the queen put her into a coma.

That's a lot of trauma. She is 13 years old. It’s child abuse.

The way I see it, the prince represents the possibility for Snow White to heal from the trauma. Sometimes you hear stories of people who have been abused as kids, and there are those who thrive, and those who are prisoners of their trauma, The people who thrive, are the ones who have at least one person in their life who helped them through the traumatic experience. It can be a spouse, a friend or a good therapist.

It would be very difficult for Snow White to find a trauma therapist from Middle Age Germany, but with the Prince, there is a promise of a better future, and him being stable person and someone who unconditionally loves Snow White, she can recover from these traumatic experiences and get that emotional support from him and truly live happily ever after.

P.S. Since the live action is a Gerwig film, bet your life, any form of male abuse is normalized and there is going to be a big speech from a leading lady, how the world is against her, because she is a woman. If instead of pop feminism, she would focus on trying to fix the unequal system that she is always complaining about, maybe her characters wouldn't have these problems..

but then she could not be the center of attention, could she?

@selkiesstories @heather-field @princesssarisa @fandomsarefamily1966 @thatscarletflycatcher @mysoftboybensolo @librarydame @rainbowmilk1996

[princesssarisa]

Sometimes I wonder if the Greek versions of Cinderella with the cannibalism are the original versions of the versions with the slaughtered animal helper. For starters, a Serbian version starts with a similar spinning incident that makes her mother turn into a cow. And this is probably just an expression, but one of the saddleslut variants says her sisters "made a cow of" their mother.

I know that because 葉限(Ye Xian) is the oldest known version, the slaughtered animal helper version probably came first, but I'm still a bit suspicious.

Since all these stories existed in oral form before they were written down, the question of which came first is always an open one. It does make sense to imagine that "the mother is killed and eaten" was bowdlerized into "the mother is turned into an animal, then killed and eaten," which in turn was bowdlerized into versions where the doomed animal is just an animal, followed by versions where no one is killed at all, but Cinderella gets her finery from a fairy, or a tree, or other more innocent sources. But is that the case? Or did the slaughtered animal helper come first, and did later storytellers embellish it to have the animal be her mother transformed, with some dropping the animal aspect altogether and just having the mother be cannibalized?

Likewise, I just finished reading a German literary version of Snow White called Richilde that predates the Grimms' tale. In this tale, the Snow White character, Blanca, never goes into hiding in the woods, but has her own aristocratic household where she's attended by dwarf servants, as royalty and courtiers often were. So the question is raised: did this literary tale with dwarf servants lead to later oral versions where she goes to live with dwarfs in the woods, or did the oral versions with dwarfs in the woods come first and are the dwarf servants in Richilde an attempt to reimagine them more realistically?

[palecleverdoll]

Ages of French Queens at First Marriage

I have only included women whose birth dates and dates of marriage are known within at least 1-2 years, therefore, this is not a comprehensive list.

This list is composed of Queens of France until the end of the House of Bourbon; it does not include Bourbon claimants or descendants after 1792.

The average age at first marriage among these women was 20.

Ermentrude of Orléans, first wife of Charles the Bald: age 19 when she married Charles in 842 CE

Richilde of Provence, second wife of Charles the Bald: age 25 when she married Charles in 870 CE

Richardis of Swabia, wife of Charles the Fat: age 22 when she married Charles in 862 CE

Théodrate of Troyes, wife of Odo: age 14 or 15 when she married Odo in 882 or 883 CE

Frederuna, wife of Charles III: age 20 when she married Charles in 907 CE

Beatrice of Vermandois, second wife of Robert I: age 10 when she married Robert in 990 CE

Emma of France, wife of Rudolph: age 27 when she married Rudolph in 921 CE

Gerberga of Saxony, wife of Gilbert, Duke of Lorraine, and later of Louis IV: age 16 when she married Gilbert in 929 CE

Emma of Italy, wife of Lothair: age 17 when she married Lothair in 965 CE

Adelaide-Blanche of Anjou, wife of Stephen, Viscount of Gévaudan, Raymond III, Count of Toulouse, and later Louis V: age 15 when she married Stephen in 955 CE

Bertha of Burgundy, wife of Odo I, Count of Blois, and later Robert II: age 19 when she married Odo in 984 CE

Constance of Arles, third wife of Robert II: age 17 when she married Robert in 1003 CE

Anne of Kiev, wife of Henry I: age 21 when she married Henry in 1051 CE

Bertha of Holland, first wife of Philip I: age 17 when she married Philip in 1072 CE

Bertrade of Montfort, wife of Fulk IV, Count of Anjou, and second wife of Philip I: age 19 when she married Fulk in 1089 CE

Adelaide of Maurienne, second wife of Louis VI: age 23 when she married Louis in 1115 CE

Eleanor of Aquitaine, first wife of Louis VII and later Henry II of England: age 15 when she married Louis in 1137 CE

Adela of Champagne, third wife of Louis VII: age 20 when she married Louis in `1160 CE

Isabella of Hainault, first wife of Philip II: age 10 when she married Philip in 1180 CE

Ingeborg of Denmark, second wife of Philip II: age 19 when she married Philip in 1193 CE

Agnes of Merania, third wife of Philip II: age 21 when she married Philip in 1195 CE

Blanche of Castile, wife of Louis VIII: age 12 when she married Louis in 1200 CE

Margaret of Provence, wife of Louis IX: age 13 when she married Louis in 1234 CE

Isabella of Aragon, first wife of Philip III: age 14 when she married Philip in 1262 CE

Marie of Brabant, second wife of Philip III: age 20 when she married Philip in 1274 CE

Joan I of Navarre, wife of Philip IV: age 11 when she married Philip in 1284 CE

Margaret of Burgundy, wife of Louis X; age 15 when she married Louis in 1305 CE

Clementia of Hungary, second wife of Louis X: age 22 when she married Louis in 1315 CE

Joan II, Countess of Burgundy, wife of Philip V: age 15 when she married Philip in 1307 CE

Blanche of Burgundy, first wife of Charles IV: age 12 when she married Charles in 1308 CE

Marie of Luxembourg, second wife of Charles IV: age 18 when she married Charles in 1322 CE

Joan of Évreux, third wife of Charles IV: age 14 when she married Charles in 1324 CE

Bonne of Luxembourg, first wife of John II: age 17 when she married John in 1332 CE

Joan I, Countess of Auvergne, wife of Philip of Burgundy, and later John II: age 12 when she married Philip in 1338 CE

Joanna of Bourbon, wife of Charles V: age 12 when she married Charles in 1350 CE

Isabeau of Bavaria, wife of Charles VI: age 15 when she married Charles in 1385 CE

Marie of Anjou, wife of Charles VII: age 18 when she married Charles in 1422 CE

Charlotte of Savoy, second wife of Louis XI: age 9 when she married Louis in 1451 CE

Anne of Brittany, wife of Maximilian I, HRE, Charles VIII and later Louis XII: age 13 when she married Maximilian in 1490 CE

Joan of France, first wife of Louis XII: age 12 when she married Louis in 1476 CE

Mary Tudor, third wife of Louis XII: age 18 when she married Louis in 1514 CE

Claude of France, first wife of Francis I: age 15 when she married Francis in 1514 CE

Eleanor of Austria, wife of Manuel I of Portugal and later second wife of Francis I: age 20 when she married Manuel in 1518 CE

Catherine de' Medici, wife of Henry II: age 14 when she married Henry in 1533 CE

Mary, Queen of Scots, wife of Francis II: age 16 when she married Francis in 1558 CE

Elisabeth of Austria, wife of Charles IX: age 16 when she married Charles in 1570 CE

Louise of Lorraine, wife of Henry III: age 22 when she married Henry in 1575 CE

Margaret of Valois, first wife of Henry IV: age 19 when she married Henry in 1572 CE

Marie de' Medici, second wife of Henry IV: age 25 when she married Henry in 1600 CE

Anne of Austria, wife of Louis XIII: age 14 when she married Louis in 1615 CE

Maria Theresa of Spain, wife of Louis XIV: age 22 when she married Louis in 1660 CE

Marie Leszczyńska, wife of Louis XV: age 22 when she married Louis in 1725 CE

Marie Antoinette, wife of Louis XVI: age 15 when she married Louis in 1770 CE

[emvidal]

The beautiful maiden is revived but not by a lover's kiss. Hermann Vogel illustrates 'Richilde', 1896 by Johann Karl August Musäus.

"He brought out his relic and laid it on the heart of the deceased. After a few moments the numbness disappeared, and spirit and life returned to the pale body. The young lady did not know what was happening to her when she saw the stranger next to her, and the delighted dwarfs thought the miracle man was an angel from the heavens."

In this variation of 'Snow White', Blanca is the fairest in the land and Richilde is the wicked stepmother. The relic is a splinter from the staff of the prophet Elisha.

#richilde #snowwhite #fairytale #fairytales #folktales #vintagebooks #childrensbooks #grimm #perrault #folklore

[nytil-sims-storybook]

Great medieval invasion !

Bidonjour ! 

Depuis quelques temps, j’entreprend de transformer les mondes de mes sims en univers médiéval ! Et je commence par transformer les familles elle-même ;-) 

Après avoir modifié les Gothik en famille de grand duc ( du grand duché de Willow Creek ), les Spencer-Kim-Lewis en influente famille de banquier et commerçant, les Pancake en boulanger et les Meilleurs amis pour la vie en paysan, je m’attaque maintenant aux familles de Oasis spring avec les Plenozas ! Gedfroy, son épouse Richilde et son fils Gracien sont la famille ducale de ce duché, ils aiment montrer leurs richesses et se pavaner ! 

_______________________________________________________

For some time now, I have been transforming the worlds of my sims into medieval universes! And I start by transforming the families themselves ;-)

After transforming the Gothiks into a grand duke family (from the grand duchy of Willow Creek), the Spencer-Kim-Lewis into an influential banker and merchant family, the Pancakes into a baker and the Best Friends for Life into a farmer, I'm now tackling the Oasis spring families with the Plenozas! Gedfroy, his wife Richilde and his son Gracien are the ducal family of this duchy, they like to show their wealth and strut their stuff!

______________________________________________________

[valkyries-things]

RICHILDE // COUNTESS OF HAINAULT

“She was a ruling countess of Hainaut from c. 1050 until 1076, in co-regency with her husband Baldwin VI of Flanders (until 1070) and then her son Baldwin II of Hainaut. She was also countess of Flanders by marriage to Baldwin VI between from 1067 to 1070. She ruled Flanders as regent during the minority of her son Arnulf III in 1070–1071.”

[kittyrinn-aiko]

The story of Snow White originated as a German folk tale. In 1782 popular German fairy tale writer Johann Karl August Musäus published a book called “Folkmärchen der Deutchen” (German folk tales). The book included a story called “Richilde” and it is believed that this story was the inspiration for the Brothers Grimm´s story.

As for anime, Manga dates back to the Emakimono scrolls which date back to the Nara period (710–794 CE) in Japan. The Japanese made art available to the masses with woodblock prints when art was only available to the wealthy in Europe. If Disney had not made Snow White, I honestly believe that Hayao Miyazaki would have invented the feature-length animated film if no one else had. Snow White the animated movie didn't come out of nowhere. Given that animated shorts were a very popular medium, someone was bound to make a feature-length film sooner or later. What we would not have had is a Disney legacy for people with agendas to trash.

I Hate How She Talks About Snow White

"People are making these jokes about ours being the PC Snow White, where it's like, yeah, it is − because it needed that. It's an 85-year-old cartoon, and our version is a refreshing story about a young woman who has a function beyond 'Someday My Prince Will Come. "

Let me tell you a little something's about that "85-year-old cartoon," miss Zegler.

It was the first-ever cel-animated feature-length full-color film. Ever. Ever. EVER. I'm worried that you're not hearing me. This movie was Disney inventing the modern animated film. Spirited Away, Into the Spider-Verse, Tangled, you don't get to have any of these without Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs (1937.)

Speaking of what you wouldn't get without this movie, it includes anime as a genre. Not just in technique (because again, nobody animated more than shorts before this movie) but in style and story. Anime, as it is now, wouldn't exist without Osamu Tezuka, "The God of Manga," who wouldn't have pioneered anime storytelling in the 1940s without having watched and learned from Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs in the 1930s. No "weeb" culture, no Princess Mononoke, no DragonBall Z, no My Hero Academia, no Demonslayer, and no Naruto without this "85-year-old cartoon."

It was praised, not just for its technical marvels, not just for its synchronized craft of sound and action, but primarily and enduringly because people felt like the characters were real. They felt more like they were watching something true to life than they did watching silent, live-action films with real actors and actresses. They couldn't believe that an animated character could make kids wet their pants as she flees, frightened, through the forest, or grown adults cry with grieving Dwarves. Consistently.

Walt Disney Studios was built on this movie. No no; you're not understanding me. Literally, the studio in Burbank, out of which has come legends of this craft of animated filmmaking, was literally built on the incredible, odds-defying, record-breaking profits of just Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs, specifically.

Speaking of record-breaking profits, this movie is the highest-grossing animated film in history. Still. TO THIS DAY. And it was made during the Great Depression.

In fact, it made four times as much money than any other film, in any other genre, released during that time period. It was actually THE highest-grossing film of all time, in any genre, until nothing less than Gone With the Wind, herself, came along to take the throne.

It was the first-ever animated movie to be selected for the National Film Registry. Actually, it was one of the first movies, period, to ever go into the registry at all. You know what else is in the NFR? The original West Side Story, the remake of which is responsible for Rachel Ziegler's widespread fame.

Walt Disney sacrificed for this movie to be invented. Literally, he took out a mortgage on his house and screened the movie to banks for loans to finish paying for it, because everyone from the media to his own wife and brother told him he was crazy to make this movie. And you want to tell me it's just an 85-year-old cartoon that needs the most meaningless of updates, with your tender 8 years in the business?

Speaking of sacrifice, this movie employed over 750 people, and they worked immeasurable hours of overtime, and invented--literally invented--so many new techniques that are still used in filmmaking today, that Walt Disney, in a move that NO OTHER STUDIO IN HOLLYWOOD was doing in the 30's, put this in the opening credits: "My sincere appreciation to the members of my staff whose loyalty and creative endeavor made possible this production." Not the end credits, like movies love to do today as a virtue-signal. The opening credits.

It's legacy endures. Your little "85-year-old cartoon" sold more than 1 million DVD copies upon re-release. Just on its first day. The Beatles quoted Snow White in one of their songs. Legacy directors call it "the greatest film ever made." Everything from Rolling Stones to the American Film Institute call this move one of the most influential masterpieces of our culture. This movie doesn't need anything from anybody. This movie is a cultural juggernaut for America. It's a staple in the art of filmmaking--and art, in general. It is the foundation of the Walt Disney Company, of modern children's media in the West, and of modern adaptations of classical fairy tales in the West. When you think only in the base, low, mean terms of "race" and "progressivism" you start taking things that are actually worlds-away from being in your league to judge, and you relegate them to silly ignorant phrases like "85-year-old cartoon" to explain why what you're doing is somehow better.

Sit down and be humble. Who the heck are you?

[x0401x]

[city-of-ladies]

Richilde of Hainaut - Fighting countess 

Richilde (c.1018-1074) was countess of Hainaut (a territory straddling the border between present-day France and Belgium) during her first marriage between 1040 and 1051. She later married count Baldwin VI of Flanders and thus became countess of Flanders. She entrusted the children born of her first marriage to the clergy: her daughter became a nun and her son, who was probably physically disabled, became a bishop.

Richilde gave birth to two sons from her second marriage and was determined to protect their inheritance. When Baldwin VI died in 1070, his brother Robert the Frisian, wanting the county for himself, marched on Flanders with his army.

The resourceful Richilde recruited men from Hainault and asked for king Philipp I of France’s help, convincing him to bring her an army of men from northeastern France. 

Richilde was present and captured during the ensuing battle of Cassel in 1071. Though her exact role is unclear, the chroniclers saw her as the leader of the troops and reported her participation matter-of-factly, without finding it appalling. However, it was during the 13th century that a chronicler felt the need to explain her presence on the field by accusing her of sorcery and having tried to throw “magic powder” at the opposing army.

Richilde was unable to secure Flanders and withdrew to Hainaut where she ruled as a regent. She acted as a protector of the church and built a monastery. Her son took power in 1083 and Richilde retired  to a nunnery where she died the following year.

Other countesses of Flanders led troops to defend their lands. Clemence of Burgundy, wife of Robert II (1065-1111) did the same. Having ruled the county and struck coins in her own name while her husband was away on crusade, she wielded considerable power. Her dower included several towns. She remained active after her husband’s death, but her son Baldwin VII named his cousin Charles of Danemark as his heir. After Baldwin’s death, Charles tried to seize a part of Clemence’s dower. She raised an army against him, but was forced to negotiate after Charles captured four of her towns. This marked the end of her rule and she withdrew to her remaining holdings in Southern Flanders for the rest of her life. 

Another notable case was Sybil of Anjou (d.1165), wife of count Thierry (fl.1128-1168). Sybil ruled the lands while her husband was crusading. A pious woman, she was instrumental in strengthening the relationship between the count and the church. While Thierry was away, count Baldwin IV of Hainaut invaded Flanders and started pillaging. Even though she was pregnant, Sybil raised an army and attacked Baldwin with a “virile heart”, burned villages and towns and pillaged the countryside. Baldwin fled and “acquired no honor in this campaign”. Sybil managed to secure a truce. Her son Philip later remembered the time “when my mother Sybil, countess of Flanders, strongly governed the principality of Flanders”. The documents indeed show Sybil as a vigorous and decisive leader. 

Bibliography:

Cassagnes-Brouquet Sophie, Chevaleresses, une chevalerie au féminin

McLaughlin Megan, The woman warrior: Gender, warfare and society in medieval Europe

Nicholas Karen S., “Countesses as rulers in Flanders”

[maimoncat]

This makes the Perrault tale make SO much more sense, but it also makes me wonder wether Johann Karl August Musäus knew about Catherine Bernand's story.

You already came across him when talking about the Grimm brothers' sources, he wrote Richilde… . But he is also pretty famous for writing literary retellings of legends like those of Rübezahl. Rübezahl, aka Krakonoš (in czech) or Liczyrzepa (in polish) is a giant from the aptly named Giant Mountains in the Sudetes, on today's border between Poland and the Czech Republic. There are many folk tales about his pranks on people, which were first collected and written in german by Johannes Praetorius, between 1662 and 1665. Musäus especially used this collection for his own work.

And the first legend from his collection, focuses on the spirit's name: Rübezahl, turnip counter. It starts off by presenting us the mountain spirit as "king of the gnomes", that live underground and only occasionally come out to the surface. On one such occasion, the mountain spirit sees the slesian princess Emma, falls madly in love with her and takes her to his underground realm. Despite him shapeshifting into a handsome youth to woo her, Emma is understandably terrified of this event and heartbroken of being separated from her family. To solve this, the gnome gives the princess a wand with which she can transform turnips into anything or anyone she wants, which she promptly uses to create a double of her beloved best friend Brinhild. However this double and the others Emma created remain turnips in reality, and after some time start to wither, making the people appearances also age and become catatonic. Thus Emma hatches a plan: she turns some of her turnips, first into a bee, then a cricket, then a magpie, to bring her betrothed, prince Ratibor, a message of where to find her. Then she agrees to marry the gnome king, on the condition that he refurnish her with enough fresh turnips to create a fitting wedding reception that may last her long. For this she asks him to count all the turnips available in his fields, which keeps him occupied and let’s her escape to the limits of his kingdom, where her lover finds her and takes her home. Once reunited with her court, princess Emma recounts her story and gives rise to the nickname for the gnome king as "Turnip counter", which angers the spirit to no end.

Maybe I’m reading too much into this, but the similiarities did kinda strike me as noticeable.

Also, my mother was delighted of finding out about the history of this story, because it turns out Riquet with the tuft is her favourite tale of Perrault! Only for her to be filled with feminist rage at noticing that she had never heard anything of Catherine Bernard, and at finding out about Voltaire’s apparent plagiarism of her Brutus. Her anger rose when we checked our edition of Perrault’s tales, where in the notes the translator Doris Distelmaier-Haas attributes the story of Riquet entirely to an invention of Perrault, and only mentions Catherine Bernard as a possible author of the prose donkeyskin.

that was an interesting evening

Catherine Bernard’s Riquet with the tuft

(Note: all illustrations actually come from Perrault’s Riquet with the tuft, not Bernard’s)

As I said in my post about Charles Perrault’s Riquet with the tuft, the tale of the Academician was actually an answer to a previous fairytale written by Catherine Bernard - and reading her version of “Riquet with the tuft” helps a lot understand Perrault’s. Now, while Catherine Bernard is part of the “first fairytale tellers” of France, and was very influential in the birth of the fairy tale genre (after all, she influenced Perrault’s tales), she isn’t often talked about… It is because, unlike other writers of the “first generations”, she didn’t create a lot of fairytales - merely two. “Le prince rosier” (the rose-bush tree) and her Riquet with the tuft, both inserted in a novel called “Inès de Cordoue”. This, as you will learn by following this blog, was actually quite usual when the fairytale genre appeared: fairytales weren’t considered enough to exist “by their own” and so were often inserted as “stories-within-stories” in realistic narratives. 

Mind you, when I say Catherine Bernard wasn’t “talked much about”, I mean in terms of fairytales nowadays - outside of this, she was actually one of the famous French women of the second half of the 17th century. Also called “mademoiselle Bernard”, she was a poetess, a novelist and a playwright, and one of the first women part of the Académie Française. Much more importantly: she was the first women who got a theater play written by her (a tragédie) to be played by the Comédie Française! (If you don’t know about France at this time, this was huge, l’Académie Française was the official cultural institution of France, and the Comédie Française the most famous and respectable official theater of France). 

All that being said, let’s see what’s her take on the “Riquet” story…

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