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daphnewritings · 4 years ago

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Chapter 2: The Hogwart’s Express

Summary: Draco finds out who the boy in the shop was

Warnings: The existence of Lucius Malfoy, Crabbe & Goyle are idiots

Word Count: 3.8k

- Chapter 1 / Chapter 3 -

The Malfoys walked as a unit through the crowds of King’s Cross Station, one parent at either of Draco’s shoulders. He noticed a few other wizarding families walking leisurely in the direction of Platform 9 ¾, as evidenced by the strange assortment of clothes and the occasional owl shuffling in its cage on the cart. Draco had never understood why it was so hard for witches and wizards to blend in with the muggles. Surely they’d had enough practice, being in hiding for centuries.

Walking along in their dark clothes, his father in a closely fitted suit and his mother in a neat pencil skirt and starched blouse, they looked to be like any other high-class muggle couple in the station searching for the platform they needed. And, though more relaxed, his own outfit was no different. His black, chunky sweater and black trousers, cuffed at his ankles, exposed the pristine black boots that he was particularly proud of, since there was yet to be even a speck of dirt on them.

Hearing a loud, familiarly idiotic sounding guffaw behind him, he sighed heavily and then turned around with a smirk to see Crabbe and Goyle and their respective fathers trailing behind them. Draco wouldn’t exactly call Crabbe and Goyle his friends per say. They were more like his lackies. But considering they had the collected brain power of about one brain cell split between them, some days not even that, he didn’t expect much from them anyway. The three boys had all become friendly quite quickly when they were younger, being the only children present at all of his mother’s dinner parties in which the men would all sequester away in his father’s study and the women would all sit in the parlor of the manor to drink and gossip. Seeing neither option as an appealing way to spend their nights, the trio had found other things to do to pass the time, mostly down to Draco’s imagination and ability to make the other two boys do whatever he wished as long as he framed it as a game or joke.

Slowing his own cart down so Crabbe and Goyle could catch up, his parents turned to see what the hold up was. The difference in their expressions almost made him laugh out loud. His father, always happy to see another pure blood family, smiled widely and shook hands with Crabbe and Goyle senior. His mother on the other hand, couldn’t keep the grimace from her own face and stiffly nodded at the two men and their sons, before placing a firm hand on Draco’s shoulder and directing him to keep pace with her long strides. His mother had never liked the Crabbe’s or the Goyle’s. She had a high standard for pure blood families to associate with, and those two had not made the cut, no matter what they did to get into her good graces.

Approaching platforms 9 and 10, Draco’s grip on his cart tightened as their pace picked up speed. Walking faster than before, Draco and his mother weaved through the bustle of the crowd around them and towards the dividing barrier between the two platforms, and after a moment of darkness, were through to the other side. Looking over his shoulder, Draco saw his father was right behind, talking animatedly to the other two fathers. The two men shared the same dumb expressions as their sons and Draco wondered for perhaps the thousandth time if stupidity was an inheritable trait. Scowling at the fact that he had lost his father’s attention on what was supposed to be his day, Draco said, “Father, could you help me get my trunk on the train?”

“Of course, Draco,” his father answered immediately to Draco’s delight. His mother allowed his father to push the cart from her waiting hands as she trailed behind them. Finding a compartment that was empty, his father lifted one end of the trunk easily while Draco heaved his end up with both hands. Pushing it up into the rack above the seat his father clapped him heartily on the shoulder and squeezed. Not being the touchy-feely type, this gesture was practically a hug and a kiss from his father and Draco beamed up at his him as if it were. The moment was ruined by the Goyle’s pushing their way into the compartment, forcing them to vacate the small space as they got situated.

Back out on the platform, his mother crouched before him and grasped his forearms, “You’ll write, won’t you?”

“Of course, mother,” he said softly.

“Often?”

“Often.”

“Good boy,” she said firmly, smoothing hair back from his face lovingly. Rising from her crouch, she leaned forward slightly and pressed a kiss to his forehead, “Have a good time at school darling and we’ll see you for Christmas.” Draco kissed her cheek quickly and climbed back onto the train. He slid into the empty bench across from Crabbe and Goyle and looked out the window. His mother and father were still standing just outside and he waved to them. His mother waved back and his father gave him a curt nod then began to lead her away. Craning his neck, he watched them until they were swallowed up by the billowing steam from the train.

Turning to Crabbe and Goyle, Draco sighed resolutely, “So what’ve you lot been up to since I last saw you?” After a few minutes, the conversation dissolved into bickering between the two other boys about the last time they had played a mock game of Quidditch. Draco let his eyes drift back towards the window where he watched other Hogwarts students and their families rush to and fro.

After a large red-headed family passed by the pane, he heard Crabbe say, “I heard Harry Potter is starting this year.”

Draco immediately tuned back into the conversation.

Goyle laughed in his booming way, “No he’s not you dolt.”

“My father said he was!” Crabbe cried.

“Well your father-” Goyle started to say, a beginning to a sentence that what would undoubtedly cause the two to resort to blows if Draco had not interrupted immediately.

“What exactly did your father say, Crabbe?” he asked.

Crabbe shrugged, “I don’t know, all he said was that we should look out for him. He’s our age and all.”

Draco stood up to go take a look for himself and was immediately flung back into his seat as the scarlet steam engine started to move. He rearranged himself on the seat as gracefully as he could and smoothed his hands down his thighs, fixing the lines of his trousers. Of course he had heard the stories about Harry Potter as a child. Practically every man, woman, and child who called themselves a witch or a wizard knew who he was. The only problem was that no one had seen hide nor hair of the boy since he mysteriously defeated the Dark Lord as an infant. The only thing anyone knew for sure about him was the lightning shaped scar that marred his forehead, the only trace that he had been hit with the killing curse and somehow survived.

However, the conversations around Harry Potter in his household had probably differed slightly from others. Rather than speak of him reverently as an unlikely hero, his name had been uttered with anywhere from malevolence to reserved suspicion. Draco’s curiosity had always been peeked whenever Harry Potter was mentioned by his father, given that Lucius Malfoy had always said that it would take an even more powerful dark wizard to defeat the Dark Lord at the height of his power. The possibility that Potter would turn out to be just as formidable, if not worse than him, had been a swirling undercurrent in most of the conversations had between his father and his friends for years. And now it seemed, Draco had the chance to see for himself.

An old witch arrived a few hours or so into the journey to Hogwarts at the door to their compartment, pushing a trolley bogged down with treats. Draco bought a few pumpkin pasties for himself and bet Goyle that Crabbe could eat more pepper imps than him. It was a sound bet considering how wide Crabbe’s mouth was. The sight of huge clouds of smoke pouring out of Crabbe and Goyle’s ears as they tried to chew around the mass of candy they’d shoved in their mouths may have been enough to sustain Draco for the rest of his life.

Wiping tears from his eyes, he looked into the hall outside of their compartment and saw two of the red-haired boys from earlier strolling by. Due to the fact that they hadn’t bothered to fully shut the sliding door all the way, Draco heard a part of their conversation as they ambled past, another boy with mid-length dreads following close behind.

“Fred, come on mate, you’re pulling my leg, there’s no way that you met Harry bloody Potter on the platform!” the third boy exclaimed.

“Lee, would I lie to you?”

“Yes!”

At the mention of Harry Potter, Draco had leapt out of his seat and slid the door open. Leaning out of the doorway, he called down the hallway, ��Did you say Harry Potter?”

The three older boys turned around with raised brows. Draco was momentarily taken aback to see that the two gingers were identical, down to the way they dressed. They were both in matching green jumpers. He also knew that he was in an uncertain amount of trouble when matching mischievous grins split their faces. “Yes, we did,” said the twin on the left.

“Why do you want to know?” said the twin on the right, taking a step back towards Draco.

“Just, y’know, rumors on the train,” Draco said evasively, dying to go back in time to a minute ago to stop himself from practically leaping into the hallway at the slightest mention of Harry Potter. A few heads were poking out of other compartments now to see what the commotion was about in the hall and Draco felt his cheeks starting to get pink.

He got the distinct impression that the twins liked to be the center of attention as their smiles grew as more heads started to pop out of doorways and people started to whisper to each other, every topic of conversation now about Harry Potter.

“If you want to join us, we were just about to go and pop in, give him a little hello,” the twin on the left said.

“Nope, I’m fine here, thanks,” Draco said, feeling both Crabbe and Goyle rise up behind him to see what he was doing. Thankfully, the smoke had finally dissipated from their ears, with only the smallest puffs escaping as they breathed in and out of their noses, like two clumsy, pale dragons.

“Alright, well let us know if you need anything blondie, we’re always happy to help,” said the twin on the right as the trio turned together and walked down the length of the train. Draco felt the press of Crabbe and Goyle’s collective weight against his back, threatening to push him fully out into the hallway. He drove his elbows backwards into their stomachs, not taking his eyes off the red and black heads moving away from him. Draco heard the slight “oof!” exclamation from the boys behind him and smirked to himself.

Leaning a little further out into the hallway so he wouldn’t lose sight of them, he felt a distinctive shove from behind and stumbled forward out into the open space. Whipping around to snarl at his companions, he saw the twins out of the corner of his eye stop to enter a compartment nearly at the other end of the train. One of them waited outside as his brother and their friend passed through the door. He wiggled his fingers in a mocking wave at Draco and then disappeared beyond the door himself. Draco, embarrassed, pressed his palms to Crabbe and Goyle’s foreheads and knocked them back into the compartment from where they were leaning out into the hallway from the vantage point he had been previously standing in.

They flailed backwards and ended up on the floor in a writhing tangle of limbs. Rolling his eyes, Draco stepped over them and sat back down on his bench. Crossing his legs underneath him, he deftly unwrapped his last pasty, thinking about what he was going to do with this newfound information. It was quite possible that the ginger twins could be lying. After all, only a moment before Draco had opened his loud mouth, their friend had basically confirmed that they had a history with the practice.

But there was also the possibility that Harry Potter really was on the train and in that compartment. Resolving to wait until the twins and their friend had walked back down the hall to investigate for himself, Draco smiled angelically down at Crabbe and Goyle’s faces, “If you push me like that again, I’ll hex the toes off your feet.” They blanched, but Draco kept smiling as he looked out on the wild Scottish landscape flying by the window. The sun cast late afternoon light onto the waving grasses of the plains that became sparkling lochs, that were swallowed up by tangled pine forests.

The sun was beginning to make its descent towards the edge of the horizon when, out of the corner of his eye, he saw the twins walking past the sliding door to the compartment. Draco waited a few more minutes before standing up and stretching. “I’m going to the loo,” he announced. Crabbe and Goyle barely spared him a glance before returning back to their discussion about which Quidditch teams would make the quarter finals that year.

Slipping out into the hall, Draco shoved his hands into his pockets as he strolled past numerous sliding doors. There was one pair of compartments he had to duck to walk past as the occupants of one tossed a fanged frisbee to the other. He waved away their calls of “Sorry mate!” He didn’t have the focus required to fillet them right this moment.

He neared the door to which his quarry may or may not lay behind, but just before he could crane his neck to look at the occupants within, a mass of curly brown hair engulfed his vision and he was pressed up against the opposite compartment door by a girl shoving her way past him and into the very compartment he was trying to look into. Another boy who looked his age scurried along after her and gave him an apologetic smile. Feeling his ire start to simmer, Draco sneered back and he saw the boy, who was already quite pale, become ghostly. The boy fled into the compartment after the girl and Draco straightened himself. Mostly he just wanted to check to make sure that his shoes were still spotless.

“Have you two seen a toad? Neville here has seemed to misplace his,” the girl said, her tone imperious.

“We already told him we haven’t seen it,” someone grumbled from within. Draco silently stepped across the hall and leaned against the strip of wall to the left of the compartment door. He was already here after all, might as well listen in.

The ghostly boy edged towards the door, but the girl said, “Oh, were you about to do magic?” A beat of silence filled the space as she continued, “Well, let’s see it then.”

The curls disappeared from Draco’s line of sight as the girl sat down and the ghostly boy, forgetting his need to escape, stepped forward eagerly as the grumbled voice turned annoyed, “I suppose if you insist.” A throat was cleared and then:

“Sunshine daisies, butter mellow, turn this stupid, fat rat yellow!”

There was an abrupt squeak, and then silence.

“Are you sure that was a real spell? It doesn’t seem to have worked,” the girl said matter-of-factly. Draco could practically feel the heat of the glares in the compartment beyond him and he had to clap his hand over his mouth to keep his laughter from slipping out. “I’ve tried a few simple spells myself and they’ve all worked for me. Not a single person in my family has any magic at all, so it was a real shock when my letter arrived.” Draco’s nose wrinkled in disgust as she kept going, “It came by owl post and everything! I was ever so pleased, considering, of course, that Hogwarts is the best school of witchcraft there is. I’ve already learned all our coursebooks by heart and read Hogwarts: A History cover to cover.” She seemed to finally take a breath at this point in her lecture and caught herself, “My name is Hermione Granger by the way, it’s nice to meet you…?”

She was met with shocked silence for a moment. Finally, one of the occupants of the room said, “I’m Ron Weasley.” And suddenly, the presence of the red-haired twins made sense to Draco.

“And you?” she asked.

“I’m Harry Potter.”

Draco nearly swallowed his tongue. He knew that voice. Of course, he hadn’t thought about the trip to Diagon Alley in weeks, but now he wanted to kick himself for being such an idiot. He was standing right next to Harry Potter and he didn’t even know! Well, at least now you’ve figured out what the boy’s name was. Squashing the thought, Draco barely had time to leap away from the wall as he heard the girl say, “You two should change into your school robes. I suspect we’re arriving soon.” Draco turned on his heel and was already retracing his steps back to his compartment before she had even stepped out of the room.

His mind buzzing, it was dark out by the time he made it back to Crabbe and Goyle. They nodded at him as if he hadn’t been gone for an absurdly long amount of time to simply go to the bathroom. They were even still having the exact same argument about the Quidditch quarter finals. Rolling his eyes, Draco stepped onto his seat and rifled through his trunk, pulling his Hogwarts robes out. “You two may want to consider getting your robes on,” he said over his shoulder. He received two grunts in an affirmative and he resisted the urge to roll his eyes again.

Draco pulled one arm through, and then the other before stepping off the cushions of his seat. Remembering what had happened when the steam engine lurched into forward motion, he was already sitting as the train screeched to a stop. Sadly, both Crabbe and Goyle were still standing up, trying to tug their robes over their beefy arms. The sudden reversal in movement sent both boys tumbling towards Draco and he barely had enough time to scoot himself out of the way. Instead of being crushed under both boys, he only had to deal with one large Goyle in his lap.

Shoving him away, Draco stepped up to the door. Turning to look behind him at the two prone idiots he sighed heavily once more. It was going to be a long term if he only had these two for company. “Well, get up!” he exclaimed. They scrambled upright and Draco looked them both over. Crabbe had thankfully succeeded in putting his robe on fully. Goyle, however, was still only half in his. “Let’s get this over with then,” Draco said monotonously. Stepping past the sliding door, Draco allowed the flow of students to carry him out onto the platform.

Now that the sun had fully descended past the line of the horizon, the air was chilly outside. A few lamps led off into the darkness of the surrounding woods and Draco took a step towards the glowing path before a booming voice called out over the throng of students, “First years to me! C’mon now!”

Looking in the direction of the voice, Draco grumbled, “Oh, you’ve got to be joking.” Towering over even the tallest of students, the giant man that had been with Potter in Diagon Alley was waving the first years to him. Weaving through the crowd, with Crabbe and Goyle shoving other students out of the way unsanctimoniously behind him, Draco stepped up to the back of the crowd of first years that had already gathered around the giant.

The giant man smiled down at them all, his cheeks rosy, “Is that everyone? Right, now watch yer step now and follow me!” He turned and started to amble off down a steep, narrow path. Slipping and sliding, the first years followed behind him obediently. Finally, after Draco lost his footing twice and nearly slid the rest of the way down the path, they rounded a bend and a vast black lake was revealed, it’s surface mirrorlike, reflecting the twinkling lights of the castle perched atop the short cliff on the opposite side.

The tranquil moment was shattered as the giant called, “Only four ‘n a boat now!” Following his finger to where he was pointing, Draco saw that the trail led all the way to the edge of the lake, where several docks floated, next to which a set of small row boats bobbed in the black water. Walking the rest of the way down the trail and tramping across the boards of the docks with the rest of the first years, Draco carefully lowered himself into the front of one of the boats. Before Crabbe and Goyle could clamber in behind him though, a girl with a black, cropped bob shoved the two of them apart and sat down besides him with a flourish.

“Er, hello,” Draco said.

The girl didn’t bother returning the greeting as she said, “I’m Pansy Parkinson.”

“Good for you?”

Rolling her eyes dramatically, she huffed, “This is where you tell me your name.”

Not having any experience with talking a to a girl, Draco wondered if they were all this brusque, “Oh, my name is Draco Malfoy.”

“Wanna be friends?” she asked.

“Um… sure?” he said questioningly. By the way she asked the question, he wasn’t sure there was any other way too answer.

“Great!” Pansy whipped her head around to glare at Crabbe and Goyle. “Are you two idiots getting in or what?” Draco decided in that moment that he and Pansy would get along famously.

After they’d decided to scoop their jaws up off the floor, Crabbe and Goyle both got into the boat, causing it to rock back and forth treacherously. Shooting another glare over her shoulder that was threatening enough to make Crabbe put his hands up in immediate surrender, Pansy turned to Draco and said, “You’re going to be in Slytherin, I can feel it. You’ve got that look.”

Not sure if he should feel offended or not, Draco said, “What look?”

All she did was smile in a knowing way as the giant, a boat all to himself, bellowed, “Right then. Forward!” Then the boats all glided away from the docks in neat little rows and out onto the Black Lake.

< Chapter 1 / Chapter 3 >

#book one #dm

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eternaleve · 8 years ago

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‘Simply Henry’

Welcome back costume and history fiends.

Thanks for those blank staring eyes, Henners. No nightmares here.

‘Henry and his court look to sign the treaty with France, though tempers of both kings flare up at the summit. Meanwhile, Henry takes on a new mistress named Mary Boleyn, though he soon tires of her and Mary’s sister, Anne, is summoned to the court.’

There’s a lot that takes place in this episode. I mean, the stuff with Mary Boleyn could cover an episode in itself but the pace just rattles on through several really important things.

What The Heckaroonie is a Field of Cloth of Gold Anyway?

The Field of Cloth of Gold was a peace summit between Francis I of France and Henry VIII of England, Ireland, and France that took place between the 7th and 24th of June 1520. The really interesting thing about English foreign policy under Henry and Cardinal Wolsey is their interest in creating England as a peaceful arbiter of Europe – to live out Renaissance Humanist policies in real life political policy. The Field of Cloth of Gold was designed to increase the bond between the French and English monarchs after the 1514 Anglo-French treaty. It was also a chance to show off. Both Henry and Francis were incredibly young, flashy, Renaissance monarchs who wanted to strut their stuff.

There’s a lot about the summit that is actually pretty accurate. Someone did really care about getting some of the finer details right.

This is a 1545 painting from Hampton Court depicting the Field of Cloth of Gold. You can see the English Palace of Illusion, a wine fountain, and Henry and Francis wrestling.

So, these parts are really quite accurate. What’s not so accurate is Henry turning around and throwing a massive temper tantrum.

You see, he lost a wrestling match. And as a perfectly logical thing for a twenty nine year old man to do, he’s having a temper tantrum that involves destroying all his belongings with an axe. The Tudors has gone for a very strange characterisation of Henry. They proclaim to be a new and interesting look at the young Henry, but this involves making him into a screaming, bawling brat with limited character depth.

Henners is also upset that Charles V of Spain, nephew to his wife, has become Holy Roman Emperor and pretty much the most powerful man in Europe. Only this happened in 1519, not 1520, so he’s having a bit of a delayed reaction.

‘Tis a Pity She’s A Whore

The next big thing in the episode is that Mary and Anne Boleyn are more formally introduced and start making things happen. Also they’re WHOOOOOOOOORRRESSSSS, sexy, sexy whores to add all this amazing sex appeal with their naughty sexy behaviour.

I hope I laid the sarcasm on thick enough. I generally find the portrayal of the Boleyn sisters to be pretty poor in anything, and I think Mary’s depiction is pretty degrading. (FYI, my family is descended from Mary Boleyn. Actually. So I tend to get very personally protective of her.)

Let’s compare the Tudors version of Mary and the real one.

Mary is introduced in a brothel/bar/some place full of sex workers. Because she’s a WHOOORRRRREEEEEE. She’s some woman that Francis I sleeps with – his ‘English Mare’ – and she’s shown as a stupid, slutty woman that has no idea what she’s doing in life other than looking for dick.

It’s a very nuanced character, you see.

In real life, Mary was an accomplished courtier who had been educated in the usual manner of a Tudor gentry woman. You know, maths, reading and writing, grammar, two or three languages, dancing, embroidery, music, singing, gaming, falconry, riding, and hunting. Maybe she wasn’t an overwhelming genius of science or theology, but she was still a highly educated woman. And her education didn’t involve sucking dick.

Suck my thumb. Do it. Show me your French wiles.

Mary, it transpires, has been at the French court for two years. That makes this episode set in 1516, then. Mary Boleyn was sent to the French court in the retinue of Mary, Henry’s sister, when she was sent to marry Louis XII of France in 1514.

In real life, Mary and Henry did not meet until 1520 when she returned to the English court to be married. She may or may not have been a mistress to Francis I, but I would err on not. It’s very convenient for her to sleep around because it makes the family look bad, and I suspect it’s gossip that gets reported as fact. Henry and Mary did have an affair, but we don’t really know when or for how long. There’s actually very little evidence of their affair, other than Henry admitting it later when he needed to marry her sister, Anne.

Anyway, her dick sucking is not as good as advertised, and Henry tires of her.

So the Howard and Boleyn families decide that Anne should step forward and seduce Henry. Because over the course of fifty minutes, where Mary was in two scenes with Henry in total, they were showered with such preference and wealth and prestige that they’re just going to throw Anne at Henners and see if it sticks.

I don’t especially like the whole ‘the Boleyns and Howards planned and maliciously duped Henry for their own power’ idea which pervades shitty historical fiction, and this makes no sense in time. It’s 1520 – or 1516, or 1518 – and Anne and Henry did not become involved until 1525/1526. Anne wasn’t even in England until 1522. They’re throwing her at him about six years too early.

Also There’s Some Treason

Yeah, the Duke of Buckingham is still plotting away. But not for too long because he’s going to die.

He’s gathering up people loyal to him and he’s going to… do something. Either just outright murder Henners or launch full, open rebellion. In real life, Edward Stafford did no such thing. There’s accusations of him doing treasonous things, such as talking about the death of the King and his lack of children, but he was never outright going to just stab him.

He’s also dressed just like Henry.

Literally just the same outfit. If you wanted to hire the guy as Henry, why didn’t you.

Anyway, Buckingham gets caught. Because he wasn’t exactly being subtle.

How could this happen to me, I made a mistake…..

Then some real bullshit takes place with his execution.

This is a catalogue of wrong. Executions of the nobility were generally private affairs, not open to the common sorts of the public. He’s a peer – and even in death, he’s treated with honour. He would not be dragged to his place of execution and he would not sob and weep on the scaffold. Yes, it’s awful to be dying, but he’s a member of the nobility. He would conduct himself with dignity and grace as to not reflect badly on himself and his family.

And a friend of Henners would not be holding a man’s arms down for an execution. That’s just… good lord, it’s terrible. What a terrible, sensationalised depiction of an execution.

Buckingham’s execution is secured by the Duke of Norfolk, uncle to Anne and Mary Boleyn. He’s blackmailed into this position by Charles Brandon, close friend to Henners, giving him his father’s ring. You see, the Duke of Norfolk’s father was executed by Henry VII.

There’s a lot of wrong in this short two minute scene.

For a start, Thomas Howard as not the Duke of Norfolk in 1520. His father would not die until 1524. Thomas Howard, 2nd Duke of Norfolk, died of old age in his bed. He was not executed by Henry VII. That would certainly be a feat of time travel, seeing as Henners 7 had been dead for twenty five years at that point. You could say that they conflated the third and second dukes, sure. Only the first Duke of Norfolk was not executed by Henners 7 either. He died from an arrow to the face at the Battle of Bosworth. So, there’s nothing really right in this scene. Especially to have Charles Brandon threaten the frigging Duke of Norfolk in the street.

Also, the Duke of Buckingham was arrested and executed in 1521. This was a plotline that could have been allowed to develop for longer; as such, it feels like a rush of hot air that goes nowhere.

God, I Have a Son!

Henry’s mistress, despite finding out that she’s pregnant in the last episode, is already popping it out. Even though it’s Christmas 1520, and Henry Fitzroy was born the 15th of June 1519.

Tudor women didn’t generally give birth lying in a bed. They used a birthing chair. If they were in a bed, it was the pallet bed that would be underneath the main bed. You don’t want to ruin your nice bed with blood and afterbirth. People have to sleep on that.

Henners is so overjoyed at this arrival of an illegitimate son that he almost breaks his neck. Good job holding the baby. Guess we know why only one of your children with Katherine survived.

Sashay Shantay

Collars and high necks are very in this episode. Shame they don’t really become fashionable in Europe until the 1530s. Francis was fashionable, but not this fashion forward. He needs to be wearing a low, square neckline.

This is better. Square shoulders with undergarments showing. The hair is weird though. Too modern. Even him that nice chinlength bob Tudor men wore.

Where are your undergarments, Francis??? Your doublet is silk. You know what ruins silk? Water! What is your sweat made of? Water! Keep your clothes fresh and non-stinky with your underwear!

The collar on Henry’s outfit is far too high, and the doublet looks like it’s from the later half of the sixteenth century. It’s still far better than whatever this get up that Francis has on. Weird Swiss Guard/Fall of the Roman Empire runway look there, Francis. You brought a concept here, but it really doesn’t fit. At all.

Henry is clearly the architect of the Puritan movement. For some reason. He’s a king. He needs to look it.

Canadian beaver realness. To be honest, there is not enough fur on these costumes. I know that fur is not looked upon with favour these days, but he should be decked out in the finest of ermine and cheetah. Henry should look more kingly. More money, more power.

Turns out the greatest hunt is man.

Thomas Boleyn is continuing his fight against bad costumes. His remain the most accurate. Bless you, you evil man. Bless your ongoing stance against high collars.

Curtain Realness

The exposed shoulders are a bit iffy, as is the single colour for the gowns. Skirts had underskirts of a separate colour. The one colourness is a little cheap for two queens. And there are no trumpet sleeves.

That nursemaid is straight out of the 1590s. That’s some impressive time travel.

How hard is it to make a bloody hood? Women did not have their hair uncovered in public. Women didn’t have uncovered hair in public until the fricking 1960s, and they certainly wouldn’t in the 1520s. I hate the jewelled headpieces, I hate the stupid headband thing, and I laughed at the strange Nefertiti inspired headpiece worn by the French queen because I have literally no idea what it’s supposed to be. I like her expression though.

It’s the latest in Tudor maternity wear; pregnancy sack! With added useless shoulder cutouts! Because that’s what you want when you’re pregnant. Not easy access to a toilet, painkillers, and something loose to wear. Cold shoulders is what you really need.

To prove that Mary Boleyn is a whore, they’ve literally dressed her as a Venetian prostitute.

Why is your hair loose? Where are your trumpet sleeves? There is an incredibly famous picture of Katherine – use that! Use that as your basis for her clothing and design around that. We know how she dressed, and it was not like this.

What the fuck is on your head.

Bessie Blunt is wearing some Restoration gown. Look at those thin sleeves and cuffs – seventeenth century, ish. The hair net is fine, some women did wear them, but look at that woman on the right. That is a 1490s style hood there. Did you get it from your grandmother? That’s thirty years out of fashion, and it’s still not right. The front part of her head is out.

That waiting woman is wearing a seventeenth century dress. They took that straight off the rack of an English civil war drama and thought ‘eh, it’ll do’. Her hood is Elizabethan as well.

In Other News

The Pope’s dead. Sorry bout it.

Unpicking the Tudors; S1 EP2 'Simply Henry' Welcome back costume and history fiends. ‘Henry and his court look to sign the treaty with France, though tempers of both kings flare up at the summit.

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deliciouslyexplosive · 6 years ago

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Cedar Point Headcanons

This gets long. Only the bigger coasters for now since I haven’t been on or really care about the smaller kid/family ones.

Blue Streak-

A sweet old fellow, used to be more rowdy in his youth but has had to slow down over the years, but not as much so as some wooden coasters. Sort of generic-looking average-built old man, looks sort of like the typical mental image of the guys who actually make coasters. Wild about anything blue, especially towards the lighter or cyan side and exclusively wears that color. A real peacekeeper, on good terms with just about everyone in the park being the oldest coaster there.

Corkscrew-

A someone eccentric, but serious older lady. White/dark blue hair, thin, boxy figure, very 70s sense of style. Something of a wine mom. Loves to shut down dirty jokes/negative comments (especially from Magnum) with godawful wine/patriotic jokes or wholesome twists. Makes cursed jello salads.

Gemini-

Nerdy old identical twins, somewhat similar in appearance and personality to Blue Streak but more into that sweet 70s aesthetic than blue. They really don’t think much of younger (mid-80s and later) Arrows like Magnum since they’re too much for them to handle but get along very well with older B&Ms. Somewhat awkward and standoffish, and not too talkative, but nice once you get to know them. A decent and stable source of authority in the park who aren’y corrupted by a quiet lust for chaos like Blue Streak.

Iron Dragon-

Very petite lady, imaginative and fond of make-believe games like looking for shapes in clouds, Dungeons and Dragons, and pretending she has theming. Good with kids because of that, sometimes comes out to entertain guests in long lines. Like other Arrow suspended coasters, she tends to hide pain or serious problems from others behind a cheerful exterior, and some at the park worry she may not have long left since her kind often doesn’t live as long as more typical steel coasters because of the stress of the swinging on the track.

Magnum XL-200

An egotistical, vulgar, but surprisingly dependable drama queen who still thinks he’s top of the line. He constantly talks about fucking and makes terrible naughty jokes about anyone and everyone until they shoo him away (slapping does nothing... he’s actually into that lmao). Dresses in full 80s glam/sexy rocket ship regalia with crazy red hair, full makeup, way too much spandex, giant stupid shoulder pads, and hardcore cheekbones. Sometimes rocks a Madonna bullet bra even. Extremely energetic, very off key but dramatic singer, awful driver. His personality makes him someone you either love or hate, though he’s softened a little over time. An item with Vortex over at Kings Island and regularly drives three hours+ nonstop to reach him, he’s very determined and would do anything for his friends/family/lovers

Mean Streak/Steel Vengeance:

Mean Streak was a sadsack all his life and just wallowed in it, feeling hopeless due to being such an inherently shitty ride layout-wise and a massive resource drain. And then Mean Streak had a midlife crisis and got RMCd and started parading around as a wannabe outlaw. And grew half a foot, decided to out-Maverick Maverick and thus steal her heart, and came out as a lady. The last one surprised absolutely nobody, there had been a lot of signs. She doesn’t mind and actually prefers being referred to as male when discussing Mean Streak since she wants to distance herself from being that person and really loves roasting Mean Streak.

Anyways, SV is nucking futs and shockingly agile and bouncy for being pretty bulky and well-endowed. As said before, she fancies herself an outlaw, talks in a laughably fake country accent (her natural voice is midwestern), carries one of those toy guns with the little “bang” flag, and drunkenly crashes park shows at times and joins in dancing (surprisingly well). Used to fuck with the park train by holding fake robberies that consist of begging people for Cheetos and trying to recreate Buster Keaton stunts. She stopped that shit fast after being lectured about safety and rules, every coaster person’s weakness. Kind of (a huge) dumbass and impulsive as hell but makes up for it in charm and passion and certainly brings some excitement wherever she goes. May be lowkey into vore. And highkey loves boobs and a huge lesbian (much to the disappointment of Magnum who’s had a lowkey crush on her his whole life).

Raptor-

A tree stump of a guy, with thin, spiky hair, a constant glare of disapproval, and some kind of 90s windbreaker on no matter the weather. Very much the stern, no fun sort, with little tolerance for most other coasters at the Point except his buddy Rougarou and the older Arrows. Just an overall stubborn and not terribly loveable guy, but hardworking and dependable as B&Ms tend to be. Him and Magnum mutually hate each other.

Rougarou

More friendly than Raptor, but still the aloof sort. Very hairy and apparantly bleeds green. Shoots the shit with on the beach and complains about the youngins with Raptor, but their feelings are mutually entirely platonic. Dresses in generally modest or heavy clothing. Don’t speak to him about Mantis. Just don’t. They are the same person, but he holds MUCH more animosity towards his old identity than Steel does and doesn’t even appreciate joking about it like her.

Millennium Force-

Serene, graceful, sort of supermodel-like lady. Willowy but surprisingly strong, kind and generally accepted as authority within the park, to Magnum’s disappointment. She’s actually a bit lonely because she tends to seem so unapproachable to others and they don’t get close to her or fall in love with her as a coaster only. Long hair, fishnets, form-fitting and sometimes skimpy outfits.

Wicked Twister-

A grating, annoying guy who likes grating, annoying things like early 2000s pop music and bright colors. Never really grew up past his teenage years and lives on curly fries and soft serve. Fortunately, a number of the flats in his area are also that way, so good for him.

Top Thrill Dragster-

Nervous and flighty as hell, absolute beanpole of a guy, once got tricked into being Henry from Thomas the Tannk Engine for Halloween and tbh that’s not a bad comparison. Physically fragile, but very coordinated and a good sprinter despite his lanky limbs. Sometimes goes on joyrides in “borrowed” cars with Magnum, who ‘s been trying to get him out of his shell to mixed success. His sense of humor certainly wiped off on him, much to everyone’s annoyance. He’s terrified of rain and lunch meat, because it looks like a warped brake fin to him.

Maverick-

Even more of a tree stump than Raptor, snappy little lady who used to be a real dick, especially to Mean Streak, until they ripped off her hard restraints. She softened up a bit after that but still is a wild child (somewhat more cautious than Steel, though). Once Steel got converted she got a massive mutual crush on her and things worked out and now those two are a thing despite the rivalry in SV’s park backstory. She’s fucking crazy about horses even though she doesn’t know shit about them or how to ride them. A true match made in heaven for SV the fake western outlaw.

Gatekeeper-

Sweet, calm, and pretty ditzy. Likes to just stare at the lake or sky or whatever until someone snaps her out of it. Not exactly bright, but very nice and perhaps too affectionate, making her a good greeter for the park. Broad, birdlike chest and long arms, wears loose-fitting, light colored, comfortable, clothing.

Valravn-

Also a big, friendly, but spacey gal like Gatekeeper. It’s a new-school B&M thing. A lot like her, but a bit less affectionate, a bit smarter, and much physically beefier (but still top heavy and birdlike in proportions). Unsurprisingly, those two have become a thing. They’re a cute couple for sure, very loving and affectionate and find of long walks and sunset watching on the beach together.

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