#Christen Press daughter

[sugarbbgrl]

Perfect

perfect by ed sheeran suggested by @heliumshorns for a fluff prompt

wc: 1295

Simon had met you a while ago, what started out as a few drunken nights together turned into a soft and patient relationship. He was a hard stone to crack, his own baggage weighing his heart down from feeling the love he’d deserved. You’d spent countless nights holding the giant man in your arms as he wept to you, breaking his walls down slowly until he finally caved.

You two were married in coming years later, Simon had popped the question on a much needed vacation after he’d gone on leave. He asked Laswell for a few extra days, explaining his plan to which she obliged, happy for the hardened soldier. The wedding was amazing, going as well as intended. Johnny had been his best man and the rest his groomsmen. It ended as one would expect, the christening of a newly wed couple some might say.

When he found out you were pregnant, he had a swarm of mixed emotions run ice cold through his veins. Was he fit to be a father? What if he was killed in a fire fight? Is it going to last? Too many negatives plaguing him like a disease. One Lillian was finally born, his whole world flipped. As soon as she opened her little eyes and stared up at him in the labor room, he was wrapped around her finger. He would go to the ends of the earth for his girls, nothing could ever happen to them while he was around. His life wasn’t just his anymore and as hardened as he was, she took a tiny fist and punched a hole straight through it.

He’d never considered himself a family man before his fate inevitably changed. You two were his world, he couldn’t imagine a life without. His eyes were brighter, his smile was bigger, and his fingernails a bit pinker and sparklier than before. He loved to watch Lily play, even gifting her a small teddy with little fatigues for her to hug tight when he was called out for another mission. Every day he was away, his heart swelled in agony, he would watch the clock and wait for the moment he could run to the both of you again.

“Daddy!” Your daughter gasped, throwing whatever toy she had in her hand to the floor and immediately ran to the door to jump into Simon’s arms. Tears pricked your eyes as you stood from your place on the couch and watched your husband envelop your 4 year old in an embrace. When you finally reached the both of them, Simon dragged you into his arms as well, kissing you softly.

“Been too long, ay? He said as he pulled away from your lips, placing a light kiss to Lily’s forehead. “Hope my little flower has been alright since I’ve been gone, hm?” Lily nodded excitedly and wrapped her arms around his neck, almost strangling her father in the process. 

“Daddy! I have something to show you!” She wiggled around in his arms, her tight, blonde curls bouncing in the process. Simon sets her down as she can over to the speaker next to the tv.

“Mommy, play the song!” Lily exclaimed, bouncing on her toes with her hands clasped together in a pleading way. You snickered and pulled out your phone from your back pocket, searching through your music and pressing play on the song she wanted.

Perfect by Ed Sheeran began to play through the speakers, the little girl swayed slowly along with the melody. “Daddy, come dance!” She threw her hands up to her dad, making small grabby hands toward him. The giant next to you chuckled and shook his head, giving you a quick kiss before making his way to his daughter. You leaned on the wall, watching as your beloved took Lily’s hands in his much larger ones, lifting her to stand on the toes of his combat boots. 

“Where did you learn this song, bub?” Simon asked Lily, rotating the two of them in a small circle.

“I heard it in a movie one time! I thought you would like it!” She smiled wide as her daddy let one of her hands go, spinning her. “This is my favorite song, don’t you like it, daddy?” She looked up at him with an inquisitive look as she stepped back onto his toes.

“Of course, my little love. Your favorite song is my favorite song.” A salty tear slipped from the corner of your eye watching your husband gently handle your daughter, wanting nothing more than to live in this moment forever. Lily looked over at you and smiled wide, scrunching up her nose as the song continued to play.

“Mommy join us!” She held out one of her stubby hands, reaching for you. Your eyes flicked from hers and to Simon’s, a wink dropping from his eyes. You smiled and walked over to them, taking a hand from each of them. Lily put one of her feet on yours, sharing the space with you. You let a few more tears fall and when Simon let go of Lily’s hand to dip you, your head fell back in a fit of laughter.

“Ooh, me next, Daddy! Me next!” Lily jumped up and down his her hands up, waiting impatiently for Simon to pick her up. 

“Alright, flower.” Simon chuckled and picked up his daughter, taking one of her hands and mimicking the dip he did for you. Lily’s giggles filled the room and Simon took it upon himself to start tickling her lightly, her giggles turning into full on belly laughs. His smile grew wider a the pleasant sound, letting her back up and wrapping his free arm around your waist.

“I missed you, my perfect little poppies.” Simon nuzzled his nose to Lily’s, giving her a mall eskimo kiss. “I’ll never leave you again.” He whispered, looking over at you as your eyes widened at his confession.

“What? You’ve retired?” You gasped, gripping onto his bicep. His eyes welled with tears as he nodded at you, a small laugh leaving his lips. You looked down at your daughter and back to Simon, more tears falling from your eyes now. You leaned up and kissed him a bit more passionately this time, a small ‘yuck’ coming from Lily. You two chuckled against each other lips, pecking each other once more before turning back to face Lily.

“Mommy, I’m hungry now.” She pouted slightly as the song ended and leaned her head against Simon’s shoulder. “I want some fish sticks.”

“How’s about I take you and Mommy out for dinner? A celebration dinner?” He asked Lily’s who’s eyes lit up, once again wiggling out of SImon’s arms to run to her room to change. He laughed and set her down, watching her little feet carry her quickly to her room. 

“And how about after we get her down for the night, we try to make her a sibling.” He said, wiggling his eyebrows and biting his lip, gripping you by the waist. You cocked and eyebrow and leaned into him, wrapping your arms around his neck.

“Is that so?” You smirk as he lightly kisses your neck, peppering them along your neck. You kissed his cheek before pulling away, patting him on the chest. “Before anything, I have to dress your daughter before she gets into my makeup, again.” You hurriedly walked to your daughter’s room.

Simon couldn’t be more content with the life he now, and will forever, live. He never wanted to leave them again so he decided to ask for a permanent position much closer to home, one not involving war and bloodshed. He never wanted to miss another milestone or birthday, he was meant for this life.

[copper-16]

Masterlist

Majority of my works can be found on ao3 (which can be found here), but I’ll link a few of the big ones below along with anything posted on here!

No longer an active writer 🩵

AO3 Advice Can Be Found Here

Ingrid Engen/Mapi Leon

did she feel better than me?

You Didn’t Let Me Finish

Do You See Something I Can't

Success is Easy

Haunted By The Ghost Of You

How You Get The Girl

la princesa

How Do I Trust Again?

Ingrid Engen/Mapi Leon x daughter

I Wanna Thank You Baby, You Make It Feel Like Christmas

Why Would She Say That?

She Feels Safe With You

Scary

You Can Do This

We Can't Figure Out What It Means

She’s Perfect

I’m Sorry

Mascot

The Beginning

Elena and Alexia Day!

Elena - The Later Years

First Meetings

Tulips and Two Embarrassing Mothers

Misa Rodriguez/Marta Cardona

You Can’t Talk No Sh*t Without Penalties

Lena Oberdorf/Jule Brand

Hothead

Andrea Medina x Lola Gallardo (platonic)

I Try, I Try

Lia Wälti/Mariona Caldentey

I'm Scared I'll Always Be This Way, That People Will Not Want To Stay

Jana Fernandez/Jill Roord

Heaven Won’t Be The Same

Couples I will write for/have written for (placed in order of who I am most willing to write about, starting at the top):

Ingrid Engen🇳🇴/Mapi León🇪🇸- 26 works 

Jana Fernández 🇪🇸/Jill Roord🇳🇱 - 4 works 

Mariona Caldentey 🇪🇸/Lia Wälti🇨🇭- 3 works 

Caroline Graham Hansen🇳🇴/Marta Torrejón 🇪🇸 - 4 works 

Ona Batlle 🇪🇸/Aitana Bonmatí🇪🇸 - 1 work 

Ona Batlle🇪🇸/Lucy Bronze🏴󠁧󠁢󠁥󠁮󠁧󠁿 - 1 work 

Misa Rodríquez🇪🇸/Marta Cardona🇪🇸 - 1 work 

Lola Gallardo🇪🇸 & Andrea Medina 🇪🇸- 1 work 

Fran Kirby🏴󠁧󠁢󠁥󠁮󠁧󠁿/Maren Mjelde🇳🇴 - 4 works 

Ana Maria Crnogorčević🇨🇭/Lia Wälti🇨🇭 - 1 work

Leah Williamson🏴󠁧󠁢󠁥󠁮󠁧󠁿/Lia Wälti🇨🇭 - 1 work 

Sam Kerr🇦🇺/Kristie Mewis🇺🇸- 4 works 

Frida Maanum🇳🇴/Emma Lennartsson🇸🇪- 5 works 

Magdalena Erickson🇸🇪/Pernille Harder 🇩🇰- 2 works 

Jessie Fleming🇨🇦/Niamh Charles🏴󠁧󠁢󠁥󠁮󠁧󠁿 - 1 work 

Laura Wienroither🇦🇹/Stina Blackstenius🇸🇪 - 1 work 

Tobin Health🇺🇸/Christen Press🇺🇸 - 1 work

Patri Guijarro🇪🇸/Claudia Pina🇪🇸 - 1 work

Cata Coll🇪🇸/Claudia Pina🇪🇸 - 1 work

Lucy Bronze🏴󠁧󠁢󠁥󠁮󠁧󠁿/Keira Walsh🏴󠁧󠁢󠁥󠁮󠁧󠁿 - 5 works 

Ruesha Littlejohn🇮🇪/Katie McCabe🇮🇪 - 2 works 

[insomniakisses]

Reader comforting aegon cuz he's just so broken after the treatment he's been through 🤠

A Lovers Comfort

Character: Aegon Targaryen (HOTD)

Warnings/Notes: mentions of parental neglect/abuse, Viserys slander, mild Alicent slander (i love her tho), soft hubby Aegon, your Rhaenyra's daughter (you can chose adopted or not), war doesnt happen, aemond still looses his eye.

When you where first told you where to marry Aegon you were worried to say the least. Having heard many stories from your brothers and mother, not to mention the not so fond memories of him when you were all kids. But it had been years now, surely he had matured into a man? Perhaps he hadn't with the outrage you could see of your mother's face, your whole family's faces.

Yes, your mother had long ago proposed Jace marry Helaena, to solidify the bonds between the greens and blacks. But to her this? This was different. You were her baby, her only girl and she couldn't let them take you from her. Make you bare his children. No she had to stop this.

Which led to now, all of you on dragon back heading to kingslanding. Your mother and Daemon leading on Syrax and Caraxes, while you and your brothers followed. Being greeted by the king and queen upon landing you remained silent as you were all led inside.

There you watched as your mother and Daemon enter the council meetings room along with the king and Alicent, Your brothers being sent to the training grounds and Aemond accompanying his wife, Helaena back to their chambers with a soft nod to you. Leaving you alone with a half drunken Aegon.

"You don't want me." he laughs, deeply amused at the scrunch of you face when he slumps in the seat next to you. "You've never liked me, no one does"

Rolling your eyes you take the wine from his hand, pushing him back in his seat. "Your family likes you Aegon, your mother, surely" your voice is short, seemingly bored of his presence already. Not something he's unused to.

"No.. They don't like me" It comes out soft, and barely audible but you hear him. It makes you turn slightly, staring at him unsure of how to proceed. Your heart aches and you find yourself reaching for his hands, the action makes him look up unshed tears filling his eyes.

"Father does not care for me, us. he spent so long wanting sons and dreamers yet now he finds himself with two songs and a dreamer in my sister and he still views your mother as his only child." You wince at that, sure you had seen it growing up you weren't blind to the kings dismissal of his children or fondness of your mother. you had no idea just how little he cared.

"Your mother must love you though, i've seen her with Aemond she seems rather loving?" Your carful with your words not wanting to offend your prince its his laugh that startles you. "I am no son of hers, she made that clear after aemond lost his eye. He and Helaena are all that she cares for. I'm just her drunken, ungrateful son."

You understand him now, understand his anger, his drinking. He's hurt and lost and crying out for help when no ones bothered to listen. You feel yourself move towards him, unsure why, you pull him into a hug.

He nuzzles his head into your neck and releases a breath he didn't know he was holding, letting his eyes close and his body relax in your hold. "I'll marry you." his head shoots up at your words, confused as to why you would give your life to him. "But, reduce the drinking. You don't have to stop, just drink less okay?"

"Okay." He smiles then, a true genuine smile and you lean down to press a soft kiss to his nose laughing when he scrunches up his face in protest. "Good. I'll hold you to that."

Feeling him hum against you, you move to run your hands through his hair. "Ser Christen, please in form my mother and the rest of the council that the meeting need not proceed as Aegon and I are accepting the terms of our betrothal."

"Of course Princess."

Should this be a series?

[fandomnerd9602]

Just One

Female!Tony Stark x Reader

For Ms Antonia ‘Toni’ Stark, the genius billionaire philanthropist and founding member of A Force, there was a lot supposed to be ‘just one’s when it came to you.

Just One Meeting

She hated having to meet potential candidates for test pilots. Toni found most of them to be more narcissistic than her, if that were even possible. If Toni had it her way, she’d be testing her own jets and planes. They’re hers after all.

And then you stepped through the door, humble yet confident. Your eyes were focused on two things: the job and how her eyes were your favorite thing to look at. Other pilots would try to quickly get her in the sack. Not you. You were respectful of her and her authority.

Toni was never one to fall in love. And then she fell flat on her face in love with you.

Just One Drink

It was supposed to be a company mixer. Toni tried to take her mind off of you. It was illegal, you were an employee of hers. But you were so perfect.

She tried to drink the problems away. But that just led to her being hunched over a toilet with someone keeping her hair out of her face as she vomited.

“It’s okay Toni” the voice reassured her, “I got you”

It was you who was there for her. You and Rhodey helped care for her that night and with the hangover the following morning.

Toni couldn’t help but smile.

Just One Kiss

It was supposed to be just one. One kiss to silence the feelings. Well…so she thought. One kiss led to another. Next thing you and Toni knew, you were pressing each other against every wall possible, slowly making your way towards your room. Her lips on yours, it was everything you dreamt of.

“Are you sure this is what you want?” You ask her. “I don’t want you to think-“

Toni giggles, “I know what i want and what I want is you”

Toni never felt so loved. So taken care of, even the following morning. You held her hand as you drank coffee together and talked about things you wanted to do.

Toni saw a glimpse, a hope, she could get used to doing this with you. Every single day of the rest of her life.

She knew you were a keeper.

Just One Date

It was just one date. One date to find out if you and her were really compatible. Well one date became several. And several become multiple.

Toni found that her favorite kind of date was just cuddling with you on your couch and making out while listening to AC/DC. You can tell a lot about a person by their taste in music…and just their taste in general.

Just One Dance

It was just one dance. An important one though. You and her swayed to the music out on the dance floor.

“You look beautiful, my love” you complimented her on her wedding dress.

“You look so good I wanna tear you out of yours” she purrs in your ear.

“Later, darling” you whisper back to your bride.

Just One Little Hospital Visit

It was a pleasant little surprise. Or maybe not. Toni really wanted one and so did you.

Toni was tired, sweaty, and worn out from the labor but it was all worth it as the doctors laid yours and hers little baby girl on her chest.

“Hello Morgan” Toni smiled at her baby. “I’m your momma. You just got the world’s coolest set of parents”

“She sure did” you chuckle as you hold Toni close and kiss her forehead.

Just One Move

Toni wouldn’t tell you where she was taking you and Morgan. All you knew was the biggest smile was on her face. The look of giddiness was so priceless.

Toni led you and Morgan to your new home. A two story cabin near a pristine lake.

“Welcome home” she smiled before pulling you into a hug. She whispered in your ear, “and once Morgan is asleep, you and I can ‘christen’ every single room”

Your mischievous wife topped it off with a little smirk and a wink. Why did she have to look so hot when she does that?

Just One?

It was one morning as you were playing in the field close to the cabin with your daughter Morgan. Toni walks up to you with a familiar sway in her hips.

“Hey you” she purrs.

“Hey gorgeous” you respond as your wife wraps her arms around your neck.

“We did agree on just one right?” She asks with a mischievous grin as she smacks you playfully with a pregnancy test.

“What?! You’re-?!”

Toni laughs as she nods up and down happily. She kisses you and hold onto you tightly.

[blakelysco-pilot]

Over the Threshold

A post-war interlude in the Eight To the Bar series.

When Valencia had written home in August 1943, she wasn’t sure how her mother would react to the news that she had met someone. She’d been through it before; once, where she had gushed over a wonderful man that had only ended up hurting her, only after she’d given all of herself to him. When she had spent hours crying on Curt’s shoulder, never fully divulging to her mother what had happened. Only that, her wonderful man had found someone else.

Her mothers first letter had been what she expected. Skepticism and worry for her daughter; so far away and falling in love on a whim with a pilot. But as time wore on, and Everett remained part of her letters her mother seemed to warm up to the idea of him. It was a letter in March of 1945 that had surprised her- the parlor floor in her childhood home, a gift for them both, should they choose to start their life in New York after the war.

A building that her father had saved to purchase when they immigrated from Sicily, and that her mother had kept pristine after his death. She’d collected rent from tenants for years, and to know that her mother was giving up the rent on that floor for her and Everett, well, that meant something. Everett was excited at the prospect, writing to his own mother back in Seattle to invite her to meet him in New York, to meet Val, whenever the time came. But he knew his sweethearts family relied on that rent, so he made a promise to his mother in law that they would continue to pay rent until they found a place of their own.

So, they had stayed, and lived in the DiRosano home while they worked on their own fixer upper. It had taken them six months into their marriage, plus the eight months prior, to get their forever home ready. Not going far from her mother in Bensonhurst, they were making the ten minute move to Dyker Heights.

Now, the day was upon them, and he wasn’t surprised to find her sitting in the bay window in their now vacant parlor floor apartment, knees tucked up to her chest as she watched the leaves fall over Bath Avenue.

“Honey?”

“Hmm…”

“Val, all that’s left is, well, us.”

��Okay…”

That’s when he saw the tears in her eyes. He rarely ever saw her cry; there had been only four occasions; when Curt went down, VE Day, when he proposed, and the day they got married. He could count it all on one hand.

“Oh, sweetheart, are you okay?”

“I’m being silly,” She furiously wiped her eyes. “It’s not like the house is going anywhere. Mama and this place are staying put.”

“It’s okay to feel sad,” Coming to sit behind her, he pulled her back against his chest. “You lived your whole life here. We started our life here.”

“You’re right…”

“Of course I’m right. Now come on, I want to carry you over the threshold of our house.”

“Charmer,” She scoffed. “How many thresholds have you carried me over now?”

“Hmmm, this will make three,” He murmured, pressing his lips to the underside of her jaw. “The hotel in Palm Beach on our honeymoon, this place, and now…”

“Hmm, I see your point. Lots of new rooms to christen, too, Mr. Blakely.”

“Exactly,” He grinned against her cheek. “What do you say? Ready for the next adventure Mrs. Blakely?”

Turning from her spot, she wrapped her arms around him, carding her fingers through his already mused hair, the curl that fell over his forehead landing right back in place. Everett pulled her into his lap with practiced ease, holding her close as she took her time letting her hands explore him as they had done countless times before. Nosing against him, her eyes fluttered closed as she inhaled his scent, the cologne he had put on after his shower that morning now mixed with the scent of a hard day's work. She had never loved a single scent more than that of her husband.

“Take me home,” She whispered, teeth closing over his earlobe, tugging gently. “But first, one more for the road.”

Tag List: @winniemaywebber @sagesolsticewrites @bobparkhurst @rosiesriveter @victoryrollsandredlips @bcolfanfic @major-mads @footprintsinthesxnd @roosevelt-stalin-cocacola @justheretoreadthxxs @claireelizabeth85 @hephaestn @ktredshoes @barrykeoghussy @peachessndreamss @hellfirequinnie @spinteresting @prettyinlimegreenboots @manonsmanicmind @precious-little-scoundrel @beingalive1 @ptvstvrrr

[uswnt5]

Hi Gos! I went to the game yesterday with my friends and I'd like to share a very funny experience. lol

My friends and I were sitting behind a married couple who brought their two young daughters to the game. Both daughters were repping Syd jerseys. When C came on, the Dad stood up and began to clap. However, Dad was on his cell the entire time until CP23 subbed in. The wife asked her hubby, "Oh, is she a good player?" The Dad replied, "Huh?? Yes! That's Christen Press!". Angry wife laser eyes appeared directly at her hubby. They began to actually argue over why her hubby knows only one specific player from ACFC by name. It was cringe because it was in front of their kids and everyone else. Another wife loudly chimed in and said, "It's ok. My husband is like in love with her. Don't worry! I love reminding him she's gay and I get the house if he wants a divorce." Husband #2 looked like he wanted to cry. I nearly pee'd myself from laughing, as were many people. lol

lol! this is wild! so funny

[roguelov]

I've seen the idea of Morpheus x Matthew's daughter reader before and I love it because "Your chatty raven employee is your father in law and Your emo boss is your son in law" tickles me to no end, and grandpa Matthew babysitting their child would be so adorable, but yk, since my mind is infinitely in the gutter, it could goes like Morpheus is just so naughty and shameless. He loves christening the whole dreaming with reader and he always manages to melt her into a puddle despite her protesting that her dad might walk in on them, assuring her that he would sense Mathew from a distance if he's coming. But for a few time the poor raven nearly catches these two in the act. Morpheus is probably able to remain stoic and pristine, but reader looks very flustered. So Matthew has a very good guess of what they've been up to and reader and Morpheus can infer that Mathew's most likely aware of their activities given his suspicious tone. But they are not gonna talk about it.

Oh my god 😂😂😂 I love this! Dream the king of smugness vs the suspicious father constantly battling it out while you are stuck in the middle silently begging for death

Your back pressed into the wall of this confusing hallway. While, Dream nuzzled his face into your neck. His mouth nibbled along your neck, enjoying the soft breathy sounds you made.

“Dream - ah, oh, okay, wait. Aren’t you supposed to meet with my - ah!” You moaned as his tongue swirled around his fresh bite. Your knees nearly buckled under his teases.

“You worry too much,” he murmured into your skin. “If Matthew comes I will know.”

“Yes, yes, I know you know but -“ His legs slotted between your legs. You gasped at the minimal friction. Your hands latched onto the front of his coat. “Shit,” you hissed.

“Such vile words, my dear, perhaps I will put your mouth to better use,” he teased.

Your heart flipped.

“Boss! You here?”

Only for your heart to drop into the pit of your stomach. An icy chill rushed over your hot, flushed skin.

Dream sighed deeply. He pulled away from you, and straightened out his clothes. His eyes flickered over to you. Amusement twinkled in his eyes. He reached out fixing you while you stared in horror and shock. His eyes dropped to your neck, and a flicker of a smirk tugged on his lips. Clearing his throat, he stepped out of your hiding spot. “Yes, Matthew?”

Matthew swooped over, landing on the floor. “Sorry, boss, but Lucienne -“

The raven’s eyes darted over, catching you not particularly hidden well in shadows. His beady eyes jumped between the two of you. You avoided your father’s gaze. You were an adult, and yet in this moment you felt like a teenager again caught red handed.

“What does Lucienne need, Matthew?” Dream asked, suppressing his smugness.

Matthew ruffled his feathers. He knew what just transpired, and he buried his usual fatherly instincts. “She needed help, talking about a library expansion with the flood of new books and stories being dreamt of.”

Matthew’s tone was short, despite who he was speaking with.

“Of course, thank you, Matthew.” Dream turned towards you. “Shall we continue this later?”

Your mouth fell open. He did not just -

Dream only chuckled to himself before walking off. Matthew looked to you. You continue to avoid his gaze as you crossed your arms hiding your embarrassment behind your anger.

“Come, Matthew.” Dream called out.

Matthew sighed, before flying after Dream. Internally, he debated asking for a bell around his talon to avoid any more of these encounters. His stomach twisted into knots. He didn’t need to know when his daughter and his boss were having their fun.

[woso-dreamzzz]

Hi, how is everything going?

First of all love all your work ♥️

And second, I was wondering if you only write off European players? Because I just got an idea for a Christen press x Tobin Heath and their daughter fic (but if you don’t write for them don’t worry I was just making sure before sending my ask)

I don't write for Christen and Tobin write now!

But if that changes, I'll let you know

[bandedbulbussnarfblat]

Home chapter 4

here is the final chapter of my latest fic in the old maniel gets it series

The next month seems to fly by.  It's filled with paint swatches and wallpaper samples and endless browsing for furniture.  Daniel doesn’t much care how they decorate.  It's a good thing, because Armand prefers making the decisions. (He does at least run everything by Daniel first.) 

They have something of an argument about whether to move in right away, or have decorators prepare the house first.  Daniel wants to move in as soon as possible.  Armand wants to make things perfect first.  Then Daniel reminds him that he is sick, and his time left is limited.  So Armand gives in.

It's the only real time they've argued; besides a bit of mild bickering.  It's been a good month.  Daniel hasn't felt this domestic since he was married.  It feels like being married.  

They sleep in the same bed during the day.  At night, they'll go out sometimes and stay in others.  They've gotten a few odd glances, but Daniel has ignored them.  He gets from the outside it looks like a strange pairing.  

Armand has been biting him nearly every night, as well as giving him the blood.  It's much more frequent than when he was younger.  Daniel asks about it one night, and Armand tells him it's to help with his pain.  Aches and pains are part of old age; Daniel barely notices it anymore.  But it's sweet that Armand worries over him.

They've also been fucking like rabbits.  Daniel’s had more sex in the last month than in the last five years.  It's always as good as the first time.  Everything is good with Armand; Daniel feels happier than he ever has.  

They fly on the private jet to Florida.  The movers have already arrived by the time they get there and have unloaded most of their things.  Daniel oversees them moving the remaining things, and has them put to where he thinks Armand would want them.  He’s almost certain Armand will redo most of it anyway.  

At nightfall, Armand joins him.  

They christen the bed, staining the new sheets with blood and other fluids.  Then they drink champagne and toast to the future.  Daniel feels almost completely content.  

“Are you happy, my love?”  Armand asks.  There’s something in his eyes, some intensity that Daniel can’t understand.  

Daniel lays his head on Armand’s chest and twines their legs together.  Armand’s fingers stroke through his hair.  “Yeah, I’m happy.”

“And is there anything else you would like?  Anything at all?”  That same intensity there again.

Daniel props up on an elbow and peers down at Armand.  “What’s up with you?”

“Nothing, Daniel.  I merely wish to see you happy.”

“Uh-huh,” Daniel says, not buying that for a minute.  “Well, all I need to be happy is you.”

Daniel means to press Armand further, but then Armand pulls him into a kiss and the next thing he knows he’s on his back and Armand is inside him and it can wait.

/

The days slip by, one after the other.  Daniel is happy and content.  He still occasionally thinks of his daughters, and wishes that he could fix things with them.  But he figures they need time.  Maybe once things get bad off with him, they’ll come to patch things up before he dies.

It’s thinking of them that leads him into thoughts of death.  Precisely into thoughts of how he doesn’t want to die.  He was ready to meet death before, when he didn’t have anything to live for.  Now he has Armand.  Now, he’s happy.  He doesn’t want to give all this up.  

Daniel doesn’t say anything to Armand.  He’s made it pretty clear that he has no intention of making Daniel a vampire.  Unless he’s changed his mind in the years between them.  But Daniel is afraid to ask.  

Still, he can’t stop thinking about it.  

It’s on his mind all the time.  So much so that one lazy Sunday, around three weeks after they’ve moved in, Armand pauses Netflix and looks over to him.  “Just ask, Daniel.”

“What?”

“You’ve been thinking so loud you’re practically shouting.”

Daniel frowns; he hates when Armand pokes around his head without permission.  But Armand has explained that when Daniel ‘thinks loudly’ he has to work to block out his thoughts.  It requires effort to do so, and he’s typically relaxed around Daniel.  And Daniel wants him to be comfortable. 

But he’s been mulling over something and Daniel doesn’t know what it is, and it isn’t fair that Armand gets to read his mind.

“Why ask when I already know the answer?”  The bitterness in his voice surprises Daniel.  

Armand just looks at him for a long moment, then sighs.  “You’re dying, beloved.  I can sense it.  And I’m too much of a coward to let you go.”

Daniel’s heart races.  Dying?  Is that what has been on Armand’s mind?  That Daniel is dying?  “How long do I have left?”

Armand shakes his head.  “It doesn’t work like that.  I can sense your death approaching, like an aura.  It isn’t precise.”

He moves across the couch and straddles Daniel’s lap.  His hands cup Daniel’s face.  “I don’t want you to die.”

Daniel swallows and looks into his eyes.  “I don’t want to die.”

“And I love you too much to let you.”

Daniel puts his hands on Armand’s waist.  “Are you actually agreeing to make me like you?”

Armand presses their foreheads together.  “If that’s what you want.  I won’t deny you; we’ll be together in hell, after all.”

Daniel nods and his voice is shaky when he answers “It’s what I want.  I want to live forever with you.”

“Eternity is long, Daniel.  And the world is ever changing.  Who knows what lies ahead for us?”

“I don’t care.  I’ll go towards it with you.”

A tear slips from Armand’s eye and Daniel kisses his cheek, his mouth.  “Don’t cry, baby.  Look, all human decisions are like this.  Do you think a parent knows what will happen to their child?  Everybody is lost.”

“I’ve never done it before.  I’ve done my share of evil, but never this.”

Daniel winds their fingers together.  “ What does it matter if you give it to me and it's wrong?I want it, and I would have it.”

Armand nods.  “Just say the word, my love.  We’ll do it whenever you’re ready.”

Daniel wants to say goodbye to his family first, then he’ll be ready.  “Give me a few days to tie things up.”

Only a few days, and he’ll have Armand forever.

[cityofdreamsrp]

Harry Shum Jr app

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I already play Christen Press, Harry will be a sideblog.  I’ll be bringing him in divorced from Shelby Rabara, they have a daughter named Xia Shum.

[emmashouldbewriting]

Not the most interesting part of the christening announcement, but: when Harry and Meghan announced their daughter's birth, the wording of their press release suggested that she would primarily be known as Lili, not Lilibet. Yet now their spokesperson is referring to her as "Princess Lilibet," not "Princess Lili," even though Sussex comms would never call Harry "Prince Henry"

Princess Lilibet Diana, anon. Gotta get all that colonial, racist, royal connotation in there.

[sarah-dipitous]

Hellsite Nostalgia Tour 2023 Day 298

The Six Thatchers

“The Six Thatchers”

Plot Description: Sherlock takes on the case of finding out who is going around and smashing six unique head statues of late Prime Minister Margaret Thatcher.

And here we are…the worst season of this show…it’s so mean that they put an ad for season 10 of doctor who on this dvd

Sherlock having a twitter account…sounds nightmarish

Ohhhh, the aquarium imagery reminds me this is when Mary dies

So Sherlock’s gonna just wait out and solve crimes while “Moriarty” makes his “posthumous” next move

Omg stop texting or whatever at your goddaughter’s christening, I don’t care if you don’t believe. It’s just rude

You can’t make demands of babies, Sherlock. I can barely make them of my cat.

Ok this case is pretty interesting…a young man who is supposed to be in Tibet is somehow found dead in his car after a drunk driver hits it and it ignites…however, that body was dead for a week already and the kid’s dad had talked to him on the phone more recently than that (my money’s on prerecorded conversation bits, maybe??)

How’s Sherlock gonna make comments about how John and Mary will be great parents because they did a great job dealing with him but then not understand the jokes John and Lestrade are making comparing him to the baby?

I’d start dissociating if I was in a home with a Thatcher shrine, too

Oh. Oh that’s tragic. The kid tried to surprise his dad for the dad’s birthday, suffered a medical emergency, died in the car in a costume meant to mimic the car seat, and because no one had any cause to go to the car, he stayed there til the drunk driver hit it

Mycroft reacting to seeing a picture of the Watsons’ baby is exaggerated but relatable. He’s also not good with people, but the difference is I at least sometimes strive to be

Is that Janine?? No. Just another detective who needed Sherlock’s help. Didn’t even look THAT much like her

How did the dog get in trouble with the US? So much so that charges were pressed and subsequently dropped?

(Megumi does not like this show…but considering she’s only seen part of one episode from season 4, who could blame her?)

Ok this case is no longer interesting…I take it back. Mary’s thumb drive was in the last of the thatcher busts, even though she said she destroyed it, all the dark secrets from her past

I don’t…maybe he doesn’t want to kill her but he knows someone DOES and THAT is why he said Mary is a dead woman walking (he being the guy Sherlock fought who was in an assassin team or whatever with Mary)

She drugged Sherlock? Come on…

Why does Mycroft’s office look so stupid? He’s better than this

There’s something distasteful about Mary’s cover on this plane…why is she drawing so much attention to herself??? Oh, she switched places with the flight attendant.

What ruins this is I know Sherlock and John will find her, and the way she gets caught by them will probably be really simple and obvious

YUP! He lojacked the memory stick…and it was John’s idea.

The number of lies she’s living is just astounding. I don’t know how john puts up with it…

Oh no. That guy definitely wants her dead. Being tortured got six years will do that to ya

Trying to remember if the women from the bus is Sherlock’s sister….that seemed….not random. It definitely is. She signed the number she gave John “E”.

John, I know your marriage has kind of always been in shambles but maybe cheating isn’t the answer

I can’t believe you’re texting Sherlock’s sister while your wife takes care of your daughter

I forgot it was Lady Smallwood’s secretary who betrayed Mary’s assassin team

Truly, I probably would have just shot Sherlock if he read me like that. Well, she tried…but Mary got in the way

This should be more emotional than it is. Even John’s sounds of anguish are not convincing. Sounds more like he’s having trouble shitting than mourning his wife

John Watson stop losing people in even numbered seasons challenge

Well, at least he went back to therapy……….I mean, he’s physically there, at least…I guess—Oh, it’s Sherlock, not John. Feels like a not so good idea that they both have/had the same therapist

Oof. That’s gotta sting. John would rather have ANYONE but Sherlock help him now that Mary is gone?

[cedefaci]

Five Times Vongola Settimo retrieved corpses at his CEDEF counterpart’s behest, and one time he made one

1, 2, A Christening Gift, 4, 5, 1

“You know,” Fabio tut-tutted, “There are plenty of occasions for leaving corpses in the harbour and impersonating the revenant ghost of Daemon Spade, but my daughter’s christening is not one of them.”

“I would claim the contrary.” Spada stretched, catlike, all lithe muscle under lovingly tailored dark wool, though Fabio couldn’t fathom when he found the time to exercise when they were both swamped by the unending work of consolidating Vongola resources as international tensions rose. “Did I not swear to you, Don Vongola, that I would not see your children fall to weakness? What would be more fitting a gift for the youngest of your blood than a show of strength ere she grows into her own?”

“Besides, I did give you a set of toys.” He added as an afterthought.

“Spealing of which, where did you find a set of authentic seventeenth century dolls with their original costumes? Daniela thanks you for both presents, but I don’t.”

Fabio laughed at Spada’s expression, “Why the long face? I’m entitled to my griping when you make so much more work for me—these poor dockworkers deserve some compensation for having to put up with your dramatics.”

“You shouldn’t take such a conciliatory stance.” The other man frowned, “You are Don Vongola, and I am the External Consultant. We answer to no one, especially not to petty labourers for executing a traitor.”

A deep furrow lay upon his companion’s brow, pressed deep by the weight of their woes, and Fabio longed to smooth it away. He shook his head instead. “That may be so, but this is a new century, and a new age. Tradition runs strong in Sicily, but the Vongola must affirm them if they are to hold in the face of an influx of new ideas. It costs us nothing to thank our people for keeping to omertà, which binds us all, nor to remind them that we are all proud Sicilians, no matter our station.”

“Omertà.” Spada said contemplatively. “You do not refer to the secrecy of Flame, but to the law that justice comes only at the hands of the wronged, that it is not to those on high that one might look to for redress, for they are selfish and care only for their own gain. Yes. As a Sky, Don Vongola, your power lies in connection, thus you have seen what I have overlooked. I defer to your judgement in this.”

There the man went again. His CEDEF Commander, being yet more stereotypically a Mist than Ligurio, was unreasonably attached to the image he projected, and retreated into melodramatics the moment he felt his composure was threatened. Fabio would have felt offended by the lack of trust, had he not seen the extent to which Spada concealed himself in the face of others. He, at least, knew that the Mist was not the thirty-year-old he claimed to be.

“Well,” Fabio adjusted his monocle, “I’ll admit, it’s a bit more complicated in practice than in theory. How you do things matters. Mess up, and instead of making a show of benevolence, an apology becomes a sign of weakness, so you aren’t wrong, exactly, to want to play it safe.”

“While you would rather risk it?”

At Spada’s raised eyebrow, Fabio smirked and cracked his knuckles. “I am a venture capitalist. Just follow my lead. We’re going to buy these men a few rounds of drinks, and then you, my hapless second, will be getting drunk.”

“You are a ridiculous man, Don Vongola.” Spada straightened from his slump and scrubbed a hand over his face, all pretence of needing Fabio’s support to stumble along gone with the drunken blush on his cheeks, now that they were out of sight of the pub, “I don’t see why you needed to bring my love life into it.”

They had first repossessed the corpse and sent it off to be dumped in front of the church steps, after which they had engaged in multiple rounds of socializing under Fabio’s lead, to Spada’s chagrin, only disentangling themselves after the stars had come out.

“Was I right, though?�� Fabio asked, as they rounded a corner, falling into step with one another, “Have you already given your heart to another?” His attention was already on his companion, so he caught Spada’s aborted gesture towards his watch pocket, as well as the grief in the tight line of his mouth.

“I have—had—have.” Spada said, his eyes set far away. “She is dead now.”

“What was her name?”

“El—her name is not important.” The other man turned on Fabio, his gaze hollow and dark in the dim gloaming. “What must be remembered is that I failed, and she paid the price for my weakness—for Vongola’s weakness. It is in her name and for her memory that I have sworn never again to abide a feeble hand or hesitant heart in the Vongola.”

“She must have been a noble soul indeed, for you to love her so deeply.” He meant it.

On an impulse—perhaps the alcohol had affected him more deeply than he thought—Fabio clasped his counterpart’s gloved hand in his own, Intuition screaming that they were walking along the edge of a precipice—but his next words came naturally, easily, inevitably. “Never again, I promise you. Between the two of us, we will make the Vongola strong enough to protect those we love.”

“I hear you.” Spada replied, a fond twist to his lips, “Did I not offer oath already, Vongola Settimo? With this Ring,” He tapped the ring where it sat on Fabio’s right hand, “Passed from me to you, given in support? It has been four years thence, and I have had no cause to regret it. Your Flame may be weak, but your resolve is strong, and a general needs not take the field when he has a champion such as I. I have witnessed the Vongola flourish under your lead, I say to you, you are worthy of the name.”

I am. It was something Fabio had always known, and yet he never believed those words so deeply as when he heard Spada utter them.

“Then this I say to you, my sword.” Spada’s hand was steady beneath his own. “You were wrong when you said that we answer to no one. Though together we do not answer to any higher power, we are accountable to each other. I trust you, because you trust me. And together we are all the stronger for it.”

Was that—? For a moment, Fabio thought that he glimpsed a flash of sapphire, but Spada’s hair was as light as always, albeit mussed from the evening of drinking, and his eyes were steely blue-grey.

“Together we are all the stronger for it.” His sword repeated, and finally, they let go of each other’s hands.

Night had fallen. But darkness was their dominion. They walked, fearless, into it.

Daemon: Indeed, I am impersonating Daemon Spade (don’t date my gifts too closely, they most certainly weren’t the toy soldiers and dolls Elena and I were planning to give out own children)

Or, Fabio is unknowingly poking at all of Daemon Spade’s Giotto-related neuroses to the point that he lost control of his appearance even as Spada is soothing all of Fabio’s insecurities from having weak Flames.

next

[snowyunxuefu]

Video Screening of Sheng at VR WSPark from Snow Yunxue Fu on Vimeo.

VR WSPark is pleased to announce that the new opening date of the Metaverse Exhibition - Sheng 生 is going to be on Monday, 04/24/2023 on the Social VR Platform Sansar. The Web 3 link will be accessible on the day of the opening. The live artist talks and events will also be held in the following weeks in April and May.

Sheng (生) is the Chinese character for life (人生), living (生活), birth (出生), and Lives (生命). The artworks in this group exhibition explore these concepts and their implications in the context of existence in digital spaces and the Metaverse, and virtual beings created with imaging technologies. Sheng (生) is a Web 3 exhibition taking place in the virtual exhibition space, VR WSPark, hosted on the social VR platform, Sansar. Sheng (生) is curated by the digital human, #DaughterICE, and her progenitor, New Media Artist Snow Yunxue Fu. The exhibition is co-hosted by the Dslcollection.

Exhibiting Artists: Carla Cannis, Christen Smith, Claudia Hart, Daughter ICE, Frank Yefeng Wang, Genesis Kai, Josette Roberts, Lorie Novak, MaryAnn Talavera, Marianne R. Petit, Reese Antoinette, Snow Yunxue Fu, Suki Violet Su, Tianyu Qiu, Xiaobing Liu, Yuge Zhou, and Ziqiong Huang

The exhibition’s arts writing is done by Natasha Chuk, art and media scholar and writer. You can read the full article in the exhibition’s press release here: https://bit.ly/3ZWz5YQ

[a-wayfairing-stranger]

alrighty. give 👏 me 👏 some 👏 intimacy 👏

"hugging the other from behind" or "pressing soft kisses on their shoulders"

or both 👀 because that could be a good combo. up to you!

Alex always felt guilty about the fact she had a horse while the rest of the riflemen had to walk, tonight though she was glad of it, the sun had set hours ago and it was still warm, her damp clothes to stuck to her, and there was a trickle of sweat running down her spine, and she had a dozen small cuts that stung every time the liquid passed over them, exhaustion gnawed at her bones, she could barely sit in the saddle of the horse, a white mare that Maddie, her daughter, had christened ‘Sugar lump.’

Either because he had noticed his wife’s exhaustion, or because his knee was killing him and he was tired of walking, Richard had climbed up behind her, he was sat behind her, his arms around her waist, Sugar Lump’s reins in his hands, all though the horse didn’t need much controlling, she followed Harper with a obedience that made him question if he had a carrot in his back pocket.

“I’m getting too old for this..” Alex laughed, nesting back into Richard’s chest 

“Old?” He laughed, “You’re barely thirty.” 

“Exactly, old.”

He chuckled and kissed her bare shoulders, sun kissed skin, where freckles were dotted like stars in the sky.

“You’ve barely aged since I met you..”  He mumbled to her, “In fact the longer hair makes you look younger.” 

“I have been debating cutting it short again..”

“Makes no difference to me what you do.”

“You say that..but if I say…Wanted to run naked across enemy lines, you would go ballistic.”

“There’s a huge difference between cutting your bloody hair and doing a stupid thing like that.”

“It would be the perfect distraction.” 

He pressed a dozen soft kisses to her skin again, smiling “For both sides.”

“A common cause to broker peace..”

“Lex, your tits are nice but I don’t think they are peace worthy.”

Beside them, Perkins and Harris snickered. 

“I have never been more offended.” She huffed “And from my own husband neither the less…”

“Oh quiet..” He kissed her neck, causing her to laugh “I’ll make it up to you.”

“Not until we’re at camp you won’t!” Harper shouted from in front of them “Been a bad night as if, don’t need you two making it worse.”

“Only in your dreams, Pat!” Alex shouted back

“The contents of a man's dreams are one's own, Madam.” Harper responded, she could see him flash a smile over his shoulder in the dark.  

“And thank Christ for that.” Richard tightened his arms around Alex’s waist.

She smiled and closed her eyes

“If I fall asleep, make sure I don’t fall off.”

“Of course.” He kissed her temple “We’re almost back, anyway.”

[snapheart1536]

Thank you.

Part Two

Mary Howard, Duchess of Richmond and Somerset

Besides her mother, I'd say Anne's strongest connection in the Howard family was with Mary, who was known to be her militant champion.

As proof of their bond, Mary not only came along to Calais too, but participated in three of the most important ceremonies of Anne's life:

• Carrying Anne's train and coronet at her investiture as Marquess of Pembroke;

• Performing the same service at Anne's debut as Queen of England, on Easter Eve, 1533 (my apologies for Chapuys's sanctimonious spin on it);

• Bearing the basin, or 'chrisom', at Elizabeth's christening.

And when it came to marriage, Anne couldn't have got her a better match, ensuring that Mary, being both the daughter and granddaughter of dukes, ended up a double duchess, and one of the most prominent ladies of the realm.

Naturally, the default response to this is everyone reading the most self-serving cynical motivations into Anne's behaviour, insisting she only did it to somehow 'neutralise' any threat FitzRoy posed to Elizabeth, as if protecting your own child would be a bad thing anyway.

Were it the case, the very fact she trusted Norfolk's loyalty to hold fast to her cause whilst presenting him with an alternative path to power (via promoting FitzRoy as the 'Plan B', with Mary thus enshrined as Queen) suggests Anne enjoyed a much closer kinship with her uncle than is usually assumed.

As for why Norfolk insisted it was entirely Henry's idea, well he wouldn't say as much whilst she was still alive, so I presume he was attempting to disconnect Mary's marriage from Anne's memory once she was gone.

For if Norfolk persuaded Henry it was all his fault, then Mary's suffering solely for obeying his will, and guilt-tripping Henry was the desperate method of prodding him into supporting her.

Not to mention wishful thinking.

I can't see how Elizabeth Stafford benefitted from lying about it, especially as the above implies she was willing to serve Anne before then, as why else would she suddenly refuse to attend the ceremony so late in the day?

In her letters (which I'll get to eventually), she goes into detail about Anne waiving the dowry and promising Mary £1000 a year if FitzRoy predeceased her.

So why jeopardise her daughter's prospects by inventing such things?

As Gareth Russell says, never would a hard, grasping, covetous old sinner like Henry pass up the opportunity to squeeze Norfolk until the pips squeaked unless Anne had talked him out of it, which in turn is probably why Norfolk went so carefully in pressing Mary's case.

Come on now, we don't want Henry remembering that.

I love imagining the little poetry circle Mary gathered round her during Anne's queenship (there's photocopies of the Devonshire Manuscript here), especially how it featured relatives from the Boleyn side, such as the Sheltons and Cleres.

In modern times, we probably never so much as meet the cousins of our cousins, and yet one of Mary Howard's best friends was Mary Shelton, leading to me to wonder how long the acquaintance stretched back; whether they met when serving Anne or if the Boleyns ever hosted get-togethers in days gone by where both sets of family were invited.

Then of course there's Margaret Douglas (above), whom Mary only encountered because Anne married Margaret's uncle.

And then Margaret married Anne's uncle, Thomas Howard, making them simultaneously both aunt and niece to one another.

AND THEN Margaret had an affair with Katherine Howard's brother Charles, being the nephew of her first husband, so effectively ended up as her own aunt an' all!

Oh-ho! She loved herself some Howards!

There's something so touching about Mary acting as chaperone and go-between for Margaret, all the while knowing the danger of doing so, and yet rebelling against Henry's will nonetheless, just to help a friend, with Margaret and Thomas protecting her come discovery.

Despite the circumstances, I also like that when Katherine Howard fell, Margaret and Mary were such an inseparable duo they ended up chucked out together, as if sending only the one away would be silly.

And since Margaret was four years Mary's senior, as Norfolk's eldest daughter (a third Catherine Howard) had been, perhaps Mary looked up to Margaret as a vital replacement for her sister.

We never hear much about genuine friendship in this fandom, yet their life-long bond held firm despite all the undulating earth shifting beneath them.

On a side note, although Margaret stressed she'd completely forgotten her husband and didn't care one bit if he was dead, I consider that complete nonsense.

As once widowed, Margaret penned the above farewell, picturing her own guilt-ridden ghost visiting her father one last time, begging his forgiveness and pleading for him to go on without her, before slipping away to follow Thomas into eternity.

Am I supposed to believe a verse of such absolute, shattering pain came from nothing?

The strange aspect of researching Mary is how often you encounter the same contrary information all over the place:

• The insistence she died in 1555 rather than 1557;

• Everyone flinging her in the Tower upon the arrest of Katherine Howard, when only those she previously lived with, in particular Agnes, William, Catherine, and William's wife, Margaret Gamage, ended up there;

(I forgot to say before that Catherine was such a hardnut that when interrogated and facing imprisonment she took 'em all on and refused to be intimidated.)

• The constant refrain that she never served Anne of Cleves, when she's recorded as one of her 'Great Ladies'.

But the repetitive insistence she was willing to accept Seymour second time around sets me on fire with rage.

I do not know how such a repulsive slur ever gained ground when it quite clearly says 'her fantasy would not serve to marry with him', only that Surrey advised her to feign a vague approval in order to lure Henry into close quarters.

But I can't tell how seriously we should take her brother's master plan; if it really is a fantastically evil ploy to gain power or only harmless bad-taste teasing of his little sister taken out of context.

On the one hand, he specifies Mary should become Henry's mistress, not his wife, thereby protecting her from dangerous political intrigue and factions seeking to supplant her, as if it ever came to it, Henry can simply dump Mary and move on, with no messy separation to contend with, whether legal or fatal.

On the other, it's plainly obvious what he's asking of her.

Remember your cousins, Surrey?! Remember them?!

In Part One I mentioned how irritating I found the ingrained insistence old historians had in hysterically avoiding any mention of emotion (when dealing with the Boleyns and Howards), instead scratting about in the dust for a reassuring 'logical explanation', even if the so-called rationality was thrown so out-there by tip-toeing round the vast caverns of feeling it was utterly absurd.

Well whenever this scene comes up, Mary's disgust is explained away with the oh-so cosy notion of Henry's status as her second father, thus she'd rather 'cut her own throat' than commit incest.

Yeah, because there's no other possible reason, is there?

It's definitely nothing whatsoever to do with Henry's odorous decrepitude, or the memory of Anne, Katherine and the violent misery of their deaths.

No, no, no, that's silly.

See Surrey's the villain here, so the narrative has to find a way to condemn him whilst clearing Henry; so if we put the blame on Surrey's perverted plans then it's okay to kill him immediately.

I'm convinced certain victims have poor reputations solely because earlier experts wanted to sell their deaths as lurid morality tales, giving the reader a Punch-and-Judy style macabre satisfaction that Bad Comes To A Bad End.

In a sense it's preferable to believe a carefully selected few 'deserved it', rather than accept Henry was the source of all their suffering, yet died in his bed.

There's also an unintentionally acidic aspect to Mary's reply, even if the conversation is nothing more than petty familial mud-slinging.

As in, better she cut her own throat now, to save Henry the bother, because then the result's all the same, without any unpleasantness in between.

If we lazily berate Norfolk and Surrey as 'snobs', it automatically makes every conflict their fault, and never tries to see it from either man's point of view.

But to say the common refrain is always how Norfolk targeted Cromwell for nothing more than a pathetic prejudice, as if the latter was a blameless individual minding his own business who never did no harm to nobody (honest, guv!), both of these depositions show Surrey seriously believed Cromwell and Wolsey were out to kill his father.

But apparently thinking a man who brought down and murdered the Queen of England might be a bit dangerous is what mad lads do, and so Surrey's concerns are taken as proof his sanity was slipping out of control.

When not ignored, it's interpreted as ludicrous aristocratic hysteria, where ker-razy Surrey expects dirty peasants to descend upon the nobility like the zombie apocalypse ANY MINUTE NOW, and we're encouraged have a good laugh at how deranged and far-removed he was from reality.

So, you know, it's probably For The Best Henry beheaded a complete nutter.

No one ever concedes that perhaps his fears were justified, or that being destroyed with such a dizzying speed all the testimonies collected against him are in the above solitary link, which covers merely four days' worth of correspondence, entirely proves his point.

It's just a complete coincidence Edward Seymour robbed the family blind after the men of the house were arrested, and left Mary (who had nothing as it was) and Frances (heavily pregnant and on the verge of widowhood) to make do with whatever he didn't want.

Don't be ridiculous. Surrey got himself killed. Totally.

Yep. No conspiracy there.

I also resent that even Mary's first refusal of marriage needs a 'logical explanation', where she won't marry Seymour in case she loses FitzRoy's money, as if that piece of scum wouldn't have been gagging to his hands on her riches.

I've seen it suggested elsewhere that Henry approved the match with the idea it'd get him out of paying her, which gives the impression Seymour's some cap-wringing, honest-to-God 'umble farming gentleman who Knows His Place and wouldn't dare disrupt the doings of his betters, no siree.

As if.

But it is always the way with that Seymour pair, where their sister's cod-canonization lends them a certain reputational glow, which they don't deserve at all.

Writing this led me to speculate there's a underlying theme at play, i.e. they're intended to be seen as stand-ins for the modern reader: good middle class boys trying to make it in a cesspit of braying fossilized toffs, and coming out on top thanks to old-fashioned Decency, Character and Being Yourself, plus joyously free of those howwid 'stuffy' hang-ups like keeping your hands where we can see 'em.

And that's The Real Victory, kids.

Hence why they're ALWAYS described as 'dashing' and 'handsome' despite the evidence of my own bloody eyes.

It's to convince women to want them, and, being gentry, tell ladies these 'sexy' (BLEURGH) fellas are completely on their level, thus available and up for it, unlike stiff, boring upper-crusties.

Every single time a Seymour comes to blows with any Howard descendant it's always everyone else's fault.

1. The story of Anne ripping the locket from Jane's neck is continuously used to 'prove' Anne was a bit mental and degraded queenship forever with her uncultured, low-born aggression, for never could she feign the graceful regal dignity of her predecessor (the sort that comes from True Breeding, no less), so it's just as well Henry got rid.

Nevermind the tale has Jane flaunting Henry's portrait to his wife, who's not only Queen of England, but her employer and relative, to whom she owes utter loyalty and obedience.

No. Anne was in the wrong there.

2. If Surrey hates them, he's just a grunting bigot keeping all the good stuff to himself.

3. When Seymour breaks into Elizabeth's room to molest her over and over again, well clearly she lured him with her slutty succubus ways and completely asked for it by having twelve birthdays beforehand.

And now Mary won't marry him for no higher reason than she's eyeing up the King's purse hoping more than moths emerge.

You can bet if she were a more prominent figure this would be whipped up into jeering at her as a greedy bitch who chose money over The Love Of A Good Man and so died alone, heh heh heh.

So even though Mary was a hardline Anne supporter, came to court to serve her and then attended every later wife EXCEPT Jane Seymour, refusing to marry her brother is clearly just a sound business decision without a drop of human feeling attached.

See hating someone who profited from the murder of your family doesn't count as a 'rational explanation' if it means ever admitting someone truly loved Anne Boleyn.

The only possible way I could envision any woman, especially one so refined as delicate as our Mary, agreeing to settle for a revolting old nonce like Seymour would be out of absolute, gnawing desperation for children, thus enduring his clammy proximity as a means to an end, as there's no other explanation.

But even when Mary knows she's close to never being a mother, she STILL won't sink that low, good girl.

On a further side note, Seymour remaining a bachelor all those years is very unsettling, particularly given the conventions of the time.

As a comparison, whereas Parr was his first wife, he was her fourth husband, when she's younger than him.

He's therefore had no previous above-board contact with women, and since I doubt he'd taken a vow of chastity, it means his only access to them involved either payment or violence.

As Mary was a Protestant, Anne had to be the major religious influence upon her, which isn't given the weight it deserves in the modern mentality.

If there's only one path to Jesus Christ, and one true branch of Christianity, where walking the wrong way equals burning for all of eternity, you'd best be certain you're on the right road.

Consider then, how highly Mary respected Anne that she believed in her cause enough to embrace breaking away from Rome, thus abandoning the faith they all grew up in for the new thinking, so certain was she that this was the only chance any of them had.

As in, she idolized her Queen, trusting Anne to guide her soul to salvation and eternal life together.

When Mary had care of Surrey's children, she employed John Foxe as their tutor, and supplied all the information about Anne that he later included in the Book of Martyrs.

As Foxe was dismissed once Norfolk got out, presumably everything she told him came from Edward's reign, who, as far as she knew, would grow to manhood, sire sons and perpetuate the Tudor male line into the oncoming centuries.

Elizabeth would only ever be their spinster sister and aunt, like Anne of Cleves, never reaching any higher than an old king's acknowledged bastard.

And Anne, if recalled at all, would be a shameful, unmentioned misstep of Henry's darkened early years before The One He Really Loved came along and showed him the way.

Mary knew full-well she was going against the official story in openly praising the woman killed so the new king could be born, and yet did it anyway, once more defying the rules to do the right thing, because she wanted Anne to be known for more than that.

And what does she say?

That Anne was gentle, and kind, and helped so many in need, for there had never been anyone like her, and never would be again, yet she'd be remembered until the world breathed its last.

Because that's what she meant to Mary, who kept her memory alive all those years on.

Yet another thing that has me reaching for the gin is that whenever Elizabeth's locket ring comes up, the 'logical explanation' bastards WILL NOT accept it's Anne, because NO ONE is ever allowed to love her.

When it's not two pictures of Elizabeth (EH?) or Parr (ARRRRRRRGH!!!), they've got the bloody nerve to insist the phoenix proves it cames from the Seymours!

DON'T START ME!!!

The moment yer think you've got away from their slimy clutches, you turn around and they're on yer again!

THERE IS NO ESCAPE!!!

This conveniently ignores Elizabeth used the phoenix too, AND that the Seymour symbol was previously a peacock, until they cashed in on Jane's death, and suddenly they all deserve praise because she 'sacrificed herself' for The Greater Good.

I hate Tudor Q and A to my bones; can you believe they suggest Seymour the Pædo gave it to Elizabeth?!!

Anyway, when looking up John Foxe I found this extremely long essay analysing Anne's descriptions during Elizabethan times.

Ulpian Fulwell's The Flower of Fame has the excellent idea of removing Henry from Elizabeth's bloodline altogether, describing Anne as a phoenix whose very death gave Elizabeth life, gifting her daughter to the world before departing for Paradise.

Fulwell's poem was published in 1575; the ring is dated as c. 1575.

That's what it means.

Elizabeth, the reborn phoenix, who rose from the ashes of Anne's destruction into a golden glory.

Hi there,

I noticed you've been following me for awhile thanks. I saw some of your posts on the Howards and noticed that you mentioned somewhere that the Duke of Norfolk might have played a part in Cromwell's downfall in 1540 in order to get revenge for Anne Boleyn's execution.

That's a very interesting theory and I like it. Is there much evidence for any affection Norfolk or the other Howards had for Anne? I've always seen Norfolk as an evil villain who treated his family badly but maybe there was more to him than that?

Hello.

Sorry it's taken such a time to respond, but as you'll see it's VERY long, so I wouldn't start reading this on the bus.

Part One

As a child I used to be very annoyed by 20th-century writers treating historical figures like ice-cold robots welded to lifeless 'logic', and incapable of doing anything rash or ridiculous.

Oh why would Richard kill the Princes when it'd make him look bad?!

See? It must've been a plot by Margaret Beaufort all along.

(I know it's improved since then, but that first impression stuck.)

Reading history, I've always assumed family members instinctively cared for one another, unless their words and actions proved otherwise, and yet the above mentality pushed the exact opposite: that it was 'irresponsible' to even suggest any sort of natural bond between relatives unless they actually wrote it down, which is an absurd standard.

To me it's as silly as saying 'we don't know' if they breathed air as no one put it in a diary.

What does it matter how long ago they lived? They're still people.

I've even seen the extremely smug attitude that caring about one's own children is entirely a 'modern' invention, and the Mediæval and Tudor age wouldn't have understood such a concept.

Wouldn't have understood love!

Since then I've been interested in emotional bonds between friends and family, given how much closer they were than now, particularly rebelling against the idea Elizabeth didn't care about Anne.

And the Boleyns / Howards are my favourites, so their clannish level of kinship fascinates me the most.

Let's go through some of them:

Catherine Howard, Countess of Bridgewater

Catherine's first husband was Rhys ap Gruffydd, heir of a powerful Welsh family.

Problem was when his grandfather died Rhys got passed over (I expect because he was seventeen) in favour of Walter Devereux (the 10th Baron Ferrers), and Rhys wasn't 'avin that.

Devereux arrested him for disturbing the peace, which sent Catherine bananas as she'd convinced herself they were all out to get her husband.

In response she stirred up the local gentry and marched on Carmarthen Castle, threatening to burn the door down and bust on in there if Rhys wasn't freed.

Well after that unease and bitter factionalism bubbled up to denonation point, with servants killed on either side and Catherine attacking and destroying Devereux's property, meaning he sent word to England descibing BOTH of them as leaders of a 'rebellion and insurrection'.

Rhys sounds like a knob to me. You could say Henry caused this mess in the first place, but Rhys ought to have known where all this was leading.

His Wiki page lays it on that he was some noble folk hero martyred to the Reformation, but adding 'FitzUrien' to his name, thereby playing on ancient Welsh myths and thus (supposedly) announcing himself as Prince of Wales, was pushing his luck to say the least.

That's a worse blunder than Henry Howard made and no one ever feels sorry for him.

I shouldn't think he had conspired with James V, but going by this quote from the chronicler Elis Gruffudd (a very interesting fella in his own right) he wasn't universally mourned:

Rhys was beheaded in 1531, but Catherine was in the soup herself after all she'd been up to assisting him.

As Gareth Russell says:

'While we may never know exactly how much his own actions brought about Rhys's death, we can be certain of the devastating effect it had on his widow. She had been intimately involved in her husband's quarrel, and so the possibility that she would be accused of complicity in his alleged treason was tangible.

Left to forge prospects for their three young children — Anne, Thomas and Gruffydd — and fearful for herself, Lady Katherine followed in the footsteps of her elder brother Edmund and flung herself on the mercy of their niece, Anne Boleyn. Once again, the family's dark-eyed golden girl did not disappoint.'

It notable how often you see Anne, and later Elizabeth, willingly pull relatives out of sticky situations, which suggests at least some previous attachment on both sides, as I shouldn't imagine either would be too happy doing it for the more hostile characters.

Compare Katherine's reliance on Anne, a half-niece, to Elizabeth Seymour writing to Cromwell for help, not Jane, her own sister.

'She may even have tried to limit the damage for her aunt and young cousins shortly before Rhys's execution.'

Which was good of Anne considering Rhys had slagged her off, with both of those links having the nerve to imply his death was somehow her doing.

Had he lived, I do wonder if his opposition, compared to Catherine, who, familiarity or not, no doubt wanted to benefit from the connection, would've provoked a certain marital discord.

'Rhys had been attainted at the time of his conviction, meaning that the Crown could seize his goods and property, but his Act of Attainder specifically and unusally made provisions for his widow, who was left with an annual income of about £196.

If Anne could not save Rhys, she worked hard to salvage his family's situation.'

Meaning she got Henry to surrender some of his ill-gotten gains solely to avoid her aunt's destitution, where plenty of other widows and orphans were left to fend for themselves.

Anne also got Catherine a new husband in old-timer Henry Daubeney, but they bloody hated each other and split up soon enough.

According to Eric Ives:

'Over the winter of 1535-6, Katherine Howard, Anne's aunt, was trying to secure a separation from her second husband, Henry, Lord Daubeney. She told Cromwell that the only assistance she was receiving was from the Queen herself, and this despite the strenuous efforts which were being made to destroy her standing with Anne.

The help may have been very practical indeed; Lord Daubeney, who was certainly pleading financial hardship at one stage, reached an amicable agreement with his wife after Anne's father had made available £400.'

Even though this post about Catherine insists neither Anne nor Norfolk gave a toss about her personal woes, from the looks a things Anne was trying to solve this problem too.

'I have none to do me help except the Queen, to whom I am much bound, and with whom much effort is made to draw her favour from me.

My lord my husband has paid well to make friends against me, but I trust that the truth of what I suffer will be known...'

One wonders how all these paid agitators ended up gathered 'round Anne, nagging or distracting her from Catherine's cause, but evidently she wasn't put off.

Plus, according to that last link, Catherine never learnt her lesson and took part in the Pilgrimage of Grace an' all, raising 3,000 men against Henry!

By the sounds of it, this isn't a sudden burst of furious piety at work, rather there's almost an absence of religion in Catherine's life.

The obvious explanation would be yet again wreaking vengeance in Rhys's memory, and that's evident given her long-standing vendetta against his disloyal servants.

But would it be too much to think she was motivated to a certain extent by the death of her niece and nephew, being 'much bound' to the former?

And as she avoided all punishment, the remaining Howards (i.e. Norfolk) had to have covered up for her.

William Howard, 1st Baron Howard of Effingham

In 1529 there was much scrapping over the wardship of the Broughton sisters.

Wolsey ended up with the younger, Katherine, but upon his fall it seems Anne got the girl transferred to the care of Agnes Tilney, who then married her to William, so Anne was responsible for his first marriage.

(Not that it prevented Katherine Broughton from acting, as Ives puts it, as 'ringleader', in a demo for Mary six years later, and getting herself locked up in the Tower as a result, but there you go.)

Given the amount of important roles he enjoyed during Anne's queenship, all whilst barely out of his teens, she must have liked him:

• 1531: Ambassador to Scotland.

• 1532: Travelled to Calais with Anne to meet Francis.

• 1533: Served as Earl Marshal during Anne's coronation, in place of Norfolk.

• 1533: Held the canopy at Elizabeth's christening.

• 1535: Visited Scotland to award the Order of the Garter to James.

• 1536: Went again to Scotland to arrange a meeting between Henry and James.

Besides, Chapuys said of him:

'People are astonished at the despatch of so stupid and indiscreet a man.'

So he had to be Anne's friend.

Once he hears of her arrest, William curses it as 'heavy news', demanding to know the truth from Cromwell and resenting all the Scottish clergy as 'capital enemies' for rejoicing in her fall.

Mainly I'm mentioning him to discuss his own character, and where his evident loyalty to other family might give us a further suggestion of his relationship to Anne, and how he kept to that sense of honour even when it led him into dangerous territory.

Consider, for example, how he named his son Charles after his brother, and called his daughter Douglas in honour Margaret Douglas, Charles's wife, thus commemorating their doomed romance.

You'd also be surprised how often he turns up in Young and Damned and Fair, as he appears to have been Katherine's closest uncle, for all that she's usually connected to Norfolk.

Indeed, so deep was he in it Agnes had to be advised not to warn him off coming home, meaning he arrived from France and found himself immediately clapped in the Tower, whereupon he craftily claimed all his best plate was washed overboard so Henry couldn't get at it, which worked.

Later, his connection with Henry Howard ensured he missed out on being Admiral, and when he did get it, Mary took it off him to punish his partiality to Elizabeth.

There's a section here detailing his bond with Elizabeth, where he's credited with saving her life, if you ignore the obvious errors:

I especially like the idea everyone feared William would kidnap Philip!

However, there's a very odd paragraph in his son's Wiki page:

'In 1552, he was sent to France to become well-educated in the French language, but was soon brought back to England at the request of his father because of questionable or unexpected treatment.'

Am I mad or does this imply Charles Howard endured sexual abuse in his teens?

Were it only poor lodgings or sub-standard teaching, he could've moved elsewhere.

Were it excessive beating, you'd expect it to be made plain, not using all this cagey, obfuscating language.

But the thought did lead me to ponder their father-son bond, where Charles, whatever shame he suffered, knew he was loved enough that writing to his father would make it stop.

And William, reading it, rescued him immediately, proving the boy right.

This is a mere fancy of mine, but when it's just after Elizabeth's ordeal, whom he obviously cared so much about, and knowing she could easily have died like Katherine, which happened in part because he never stopped Dereham, one wonders if his moral failing then pushed him to protect Charles and Elizabeth later.

Thomas Howard, 1st Viscount Howard of Bindon

I'm hard-pressed to unearth much information on this lad, but everyone leaves him out so I won't.

There's gotta be some reason Elizabeth ennobled him, and so early on (in 1559) before he'd had the chance to serve her.

It can't just be she looked round the court, noticed he was the last of Norfolk's children, and awarded him for that.

I wish we knew more about Elizabeth's childhood, as in who she met and associated with at court, because you can be certain she met the Howards then.

I also want to add a little about his eldest son, the 2nd Viscount, who was...odd, to say the least:

• Being a pirate;

• Dressing as a tramp;

• Beating everyone including his wife.

This gave me the the idea that perhaps his and Norfolk's reputation had somehow been rolled up together over the centuries, where this Henry Howard, although unknown today, was probably infamous in his time, and maybe his behaviour in a sense lended credibility to the accusations of spousal abuse against Norfolk, where people felt Henry 'got it from somewhere'.

When Elizabeth learnt what he was up to, she sent Hercules Meautys (what a name) to rescue his sister, and took Frances in, with her husband dubbing her 'a filthy and porky whore', which was rich coming from him.

And his other son, the 3rd Viscount, killed his own father-in-law and had a long-running feud with Walter Raleigh.

He also spent years trying to have his brother's granddaughter Ambrosia declared a bastard to grab all her land, so Elizabeth locked him up!

Henry Howard, Earl of Surrey

Anne found Surrey a wife and took him with her to France, where he and FitzRoy remained as honoured guests until the next autumn.

He was then obliged to serve as Earl Marshal as Anne and George were sentenced to death.

Four years later, according to Gareth Russell, Surrey not only watched Cromwell's execution, but gloated about it afterwards:

'Henry Howard, Earl of Surrey, stood at the forefront of the crowd and watched the scene without pity. He was missing his cousin's wedding to be here to see his family's bête noire finished off.

Later that day, he could not conceal his good mood. It felt to him like a settling of scores:

"Now is the false churl dead, so ambitious of others' blood."'

What does this mean?

Who's blood has Cromwell lusted after?

Who did he kill four years ago?

Surrey can't be referring to himself when Cromwell had actually protected him from punishment not long before, which in itself suggests a few interesting things:

• Cromwell was not yet aware of just how much the Howards despised him, as in, up til then his relationship with them was at least civil, cordial even, so the old line about Norfolk begrudging the 'new men' just because they're new men doesn't quite wash.

• This would've the perfect opportunity to bring down a mighty rival, but instead Cromwell felt bizarrely generous and intervened on Surrey's behalf, meaning he saw no harm in preserving the family, and instead thought it useful to get them on side.

• Why does he feel the need to favour the family?

Has he done something to antagonise them?

• The Howards are collectively putting on an Oscar-worthy acting routine of feigned friendliness, or at least indifference to said actions, so Cromwell, whilst he might suspect he's given slight offence, assumes it'll soon be forgotten if he pats them on the head here and there.

• Except whatever Cromwell did, saving Surrey wasn't enough to warrant forgiveness.

And let's examine this quote in detail:

Surrey is at 'the forefront' of spectators, keen to behold Cromwell dying in all its gory brutality, besides opting to watch such a horrendous deed over attending Katherine's wedding.

Instead of a happy celebration of his family's success, something he could've easily enjoyed in the knowledge of Cromwell being dealt with out of the way, he insisted on serving as a witness, as if it wouldn't be over until he'd seen it done, almost to be sure that it had.

For this would 'settle the score', shedding his blood in payback for... what exactly?

Thetford Priory?

Is that all?

Or for the blood Cromwell himself so coveted?

And even the sight of such suffering left Surrey unmoved, ridiculing the dead man not only as a 'churl', but a 'false' one.

False to whom?

'False' as in affecting loyalty to his Queen whilst working to bring her down?

Because is that extreme level of hatred really just supposed to be nothing deeper than empty class prejudice?

Usually, Cromwell's fractious history with the Howards is portrayed as Norfolk's one-man defamation campaign of all-encompassing lordly outrage verging on eye-popping insanity, except Surrey clearly loathed him too.

Perhaps from that we can conclude that Cromwell had become unpopular with the whole family, hence the 'bete noir' reference above.

When Surrey's resentment is remembered, it's conveniently boxed up and filed away as the same-old 'snobbery' of his father, which a very neat, uncomplicated excuse that prevents us looking into it properly.

I daresay Surrey was proud and class-conscious, but wouldn't everyone be like that, to a greater or lesser extent?

Why then is this 'haughtiness' only ever attributed to characters we're supposed to dislike, namely Anne, Norfolk, and occasionally George and Surrey, with the 'good' people somehow immune to such 'base' emotions?

Indeed, I'm starting to wonder how much real evidence there is for this common supposition of arrogance.

As if Surrey's known at all, it's for the manner of his death, namely he 'got himself killed' by 'stupidly' quartering the royal arms with his own, which, whilst a gross oversimplification, nevertheless defines him, where history views his character through this lens and reads his entire life backwards, as if there's no explanation for his behaviour other than he was just born to be a cocksure moron.

It plays upon modern bigotry against aristocrats, where they're all stuck-up, slow-witted inbreds fixated with the pecking order and archiac symbolism, keeping the honest worker down to prove they're better than everyone else, which is a laugh because they're all REALLY shallow, superfluous chuckleheads and deserve what they get.

Since the idea Surrey died for something so 'silly' as what badge went where slots so well into the stereotype, then it's cheapened his reputation overall.

Rather than being highly esteemed as a pioneer of English literature and the forerunner of Shakespeare, he's treated as nothing but a hot-headed toff tripped up by his own idiotic pretensions, with an end offered as a 'fitting' denouement, almost a lesson in morality; about where not 'knowing your place' or 'getting ideas above your station' leads... after vilifying Surrey and Norfolk for apparently demanding people know their place and not get ideas above their station.

Something hypocritical there.

There's also a reflexive judgementalism within this fandom and the lower end of publishing (i.e. novels and pop. history) where it's assumed if Anne or any of her family are executed, then even if they're technically innocent, they must've deserved it really, else 'the universe' wouldn't let it happen.

Therefore, known evidence is read with the most bad-faith interpretation, with any declared slip leapt upon and blown out of proportion, solely to prove their own bias correct.

You're right to think that, you are.

Hating them makes you A Good Person.

Again, this ONLY applies to Anne and her supporters, not her enemies.

No, no. They were martyrs to the Cause.

But I wouldn't say Surrey's usage of royal arms spoke to any pathological sense of superiority, certainly not to the extent it should define his memory.

Heraldry and ancestry is the lifeblood of nobility: everyone he knew fought for whatever their birth and court careers entitled them, so why shouldn't he?

Look at his sister protesting again and again and again for her rights as FitzRoy's widow: does this make her a 'snob' because she never gave up fighting?

In fact, dubbing Cromwell a 'churl' doesn't mean too much either.

The average person objects to someone because they're a thief, cheat, liar, etc. but calling them as much is a toothless insult, as they'd require a sense of honour to feel the sting.

And if they had that, they would've have committed the offence it in the first place.

So, you pick on something they probably are sensitive about, such as status or physical appearance, to get your own back.

Calling Henry VIII, for example, a fat bastard, doesn't mean you oppose him for having a weight problem, or that you dislike fat men generally.

It's that you're hitting 'below the belt' to inflict the worst punishment you can.

Oh yeah, it's petty, but the aggrieved often are.

Surrey's real crime, if we deem it one, was apparently rash language of what vengeance he'd wreak on his foes once the King was gone, meaning the Seymours.

So is it mere coincidence that the main targets of this infamous 'snobbery' are those who caused or benefited from Anne's fall?

Are we to believe his only complaint, right down to twice vetoing Mary Howard's marriage, is nothing better than looking down his nose at humble Seymour origins, for they've done nothing whatsoever to draw his ire?

For all the time I've been reading history, the way the court of 1536 splits between the Boleyns and those pushing Jane Seymour, and then, once the Boleyns are wiped out, it greatest rivalry becomes Howard versus Seymour, one lasting for the remainder of Henry's reign, has always struck me as both telling and appropriate.

The idea the Howards took over hating the Seymours because of their slain family is to me to most obvious explanation; the driving force pushing the enmity beyond a decade, and blaming it all on snooty la-di-da attitudes baffles me.

It's so pat and offhand, as if it was thrown into historical research centuries ago and never questioned, passed down to us as unassailable received wisdom, rendered true from repetition, as no one likes Surrey or Norfolk enough to bother reassessing their motivations.

But could such prolonged open hostility run on no greater impulse than keeping the gentry in check?

Is THAT all?

And do note how leading this narrative is, where, if we accept the Howards despised the Seymours as upstarts, then the fault for all bad blood is immediately shoved onto them and them alone, when those poor Seymour lads, rosy-cheeked and pure of heart, are just doing their best in life, working hard and loving everyone.

But oh! Those nasty Howards bullies are So Mean!

Not once is it reversed, proposing that the Seymours envied the Howards' breeding and birth, vowing to bring them down out of spite.

Instead they're absolved of all guilt in the conflict and justified in everything they do as a self-defence measure, even when they brought about Surrey's death and tried it on ten years previously.

So why on earth should he like them?

How I wish this painting still existed.

Starkey describes Henry Howard thus:

'Surrey inherited all Buckingham's grand pride in blood and aristocracy, and all his determination that noblemen should once more come into their own.

Perhaps it was from his mother's side too that he got his most dangerous trait: a rashness and a violence that bordered on madness.

Add to all this an intelligence that was both penetrating and fast and the result was one of the most remarkable men of the age.'

And yet I don't know of any aggressive outbursts prior to 1536, being then known for 'soberness and good learning'.

We tend to class poets of later eras as on the sensitive side, so far from being 'always like that', it may well be that the deaths of George, Anne, FitzRoy and putting down the Pilgrimage of Grace knocked him off the rails, a process then driven beyond all remedy by watching Katherine die and the suicidal shame he endured over his military failures.

Although I do like the sound of him as the hero of High Fantasy.

Whilst I'm here, let's look at this very awkward scenario of Surrey attending the triple Neville wedding, being the children of his mother's intended and her sister.

Considering how desperate so many are to clear Henry VIII of Anne's death, protesting how he Genuinely Believed and that makes it alright then, he's cheerful enough fannying about as a Turk less than two months later.

Finally, writing this I read several of Surrey's poems, and must include this truly endearing piece commemorating his wife's love for him:

Such a poet, and still no one credits him with any tender emotions.

Anyway, don't mind me but I've hit the picture limit.

I'm not sure when Part Two will be done, but I'll let you know, come the time.