#it's still 999 in PST...this counts...

[silasoctakiseron]

These were supposed to be part of a fic for @alectopause, but the fic simply didn't manifest in time so I'm posting them by themselves. Shitty Eighthsploitation romance from out-of-House vs. Serious and Morally Correct Romance Between Two Upstanding Young Women of the Eighth, as reviewed by one Silas Octakiseron during his brief period in office.

Bonus archival front matter for the collection containing these records below.

Select Annotated Bibliographic Works From the Archived Personal Effects of the Five Hundred Eighty-Seventh Master Templar of the Order of the White Glass (Regn. 9995-10000 YKU)

Held By: Pontifical Archives of the Order of the White Glass

Selection Compiled By: Wythren, Sr. Keren-Happuch [Senior Archival Specialist]

Date Compiled: 13 Entombment 10002

Archival Collection Code: PAWG-MT-587-OS

Abstract: Curated annotated excerpts from works of fiction purporting to depict the culture of the Eighth House released between the years 9995 and 10000, which reached the desk of then-Master Templar, Silas Octakiseron. These and accompanying notes were recovered alongside the Master Templar’s other personal effects, now archived, from his quarters within the central clerical complex of the Eighth. M∴ Octakiseron was known to leave extensive notes on pieces he was obliged to review, clearly detailing his thought processes and the reasons that leave for continued print might be granted or denied. While the task of issuance, denial, and revocation of imprimantur was and remains generally the duty of lower-ranked clergy in administrative roles, the occasional text requires closer examination from members of the curia in order to reach a final determination. M∴ Octakiseron did not leave the mother House until the age of sixteen, and therefore chose to involve himself extensively in the process of permissal in order to familiarize himself with both appropriate and unacceptable depictions of the Eighth House from offworld.

Extent of Collection: 12.5 linear feet (12 cartons, 2 flat boxes)

Biography: His Holiness Silas Octakiseron, M∴T∴ (b. 9984, d. 10000; regn. 9995-10000) was the five hundred eighty-seventh Master Templar of the Order of the White Glass. He assumed the title at age eleven and was subsequently responsible for the theocratic governance of the complete body politic of the Empire of the Necrolord Prime, coupled with similar such principality over the government and curial courts of his mother House, until [CLASSIFIED: O-10 SPECIAL CLEARANCE OR HIGHER] at age sixteen.

His scholarly corpus, though circumstantially limited, consists of several works which received significant interest in theological circles throughout both the term of his pontificate and the years that ensued. These include his “Treatise on the Comparative Necromantic Value of Spiritual and Corporeal Materials” (9998), a number of ecclesiastical orders, and the essays “Against Ecumenicalism: Arguments Opposing Proselytization on the House of the Ninth” (9999) and “Toward a Theodician Reading of the Tome” (pub. 10001, posth.; orig. title ��Why Does the Emperor Allow Suffering?”, unpublished paper toward fifth-year primary certification, 9993). He left behind at the time of his death early components of an incomplete sacerdotal inquiry titled “Treatise on the Moral Inculpability of the Interfluvescent Cavalier” (forthcoming 10003, posth.). He was considered an adept of prodigious skill with the River, capable of channelling immense power from its banks. He was served in partnership by the six hundred thirteenth Cavalier Primary of the Eighth House (d. 10000).

Preferred Citation: “Archived Personal Effects of the Five Hundred Eighty-Seventh Master Templar of the Order of the White Glass” (13 Ent. 10002) Pontifical Archives of the Order of the White Glass, PAWG-MT-587-OS, Carton 7, Folder 16.

[dreamcatcherfication]

If I Say I’m Fine Enough Then I’ll Believe It

@nightingale6374 I’m back on my bullshit. (Okay but I named this fic a while ago, so does it really count???)

Hello everyone, and welcome to another episode of Anne angst. You guys really love Anne angst, I’m starting to learn. This was a mix of two prompts that just went too well together for me to resist. You can check them both out here, but the basic summary was that Anne has a heart attack onstage and the queens and audience witness it. I did a little research on heart attacks, but I can’t promise this is completely accurate. Regardless, I hope you enjoy this one shot! Sorry for any spelling/grammatical errors, there are a thousand pigeons attacking me right now. 

Writing Masterpost

If you want to send a request or a prompt, my inbox is always open! I publish a story at 8:00 AM PST everyday, so I’m always in need of new ideas. If you want to be tagged in my works, just let me know and I’ll be sure to tag you!

Prompts | More Prompts | The Trifecta of Prompts | Original Prompts

Trigger Warnings: Heart attacks, general anxiety, mentions of beheading

Anne was fine.

Perfectly, A-okay, stable, and healthy. Fine.

The tightness in her chest wasn’t enough to stop her from performing, Anne kept assuring herself. All day Anne had been off, her chest feeling like something was crushing down on it, making it almost impossible to breathe. But she was on for the show tonight, and Anne refused to be stopped by some chest ache that probably meant nothing.

Joining the other queens for places, Anne adjusted her in-ear and stood in her position. Soon enough the ladies would start playing Greensleeves and she would put on her show persona. Jane shot her a glance and smiled. “You ready?” she gently asked.

Shrugging, Anne showed her teeth in a semblance of a grin. “Yup, never better.” If Jane noticed Anne’s strange behavior, she didn’t comment. 

Anxiously tapping her foot, Anne watched the ladies in waiting, begging for them to start the intro. Sure enough, the opening notes played and Anne sighed with relief. The tightness seemed to be fading as her body numbed slightly. She could make it through the show like this. It was only just over an hour, Anne could make it.

Entering the stage, Anne put up her mask. Her back was to the audience, thankfully, or they might have seen the grey ashiness that was taking over her face. Listening to the music start up was almost surreal for Anne. It felt like a faded melody in the back of her mind, and her body was only going through the motions of performing. She couldn’t even believe her body was keeping up with all the other queens as they moved around at what looked like the speed of light.

Her lines must have been lackluster, because the other queens started shooting her strange looks as they introduced the ladies. The audience wouldn’t be able to see it, but there was concern in Kat and Aragon’s eyes as they noticed the way Anne’s words seemed forced out. Cathy and Anna shared a look across the stage, but they kept silent. Jane furrowed her eyebrows at Joan, but the pianist could only mouth I don’t know lest Anne hear her through the in-ears. 

No Way seemed to pass quickly, the dance moving by in a blur for Anne. She was starting to grow nauseous, the tightness of her chest spreading to her limbs and her jaw. It would be incredibly hard to sing, she noted, but still pressed on. Her whole little intro went off without a hitch, Anne throwing in an extra high giggle in order to convince the audience that she was better than ever. Standing up, Anne stumbled on her feet but quickly recovered.

Singing the opening lyrics to her song, Anne went over the top, probably appearing like an overexcited teenage girl to the audience. But Anne knew if she let even a little bit of her facade slip, she would go tumbling down.

Making her way over to the side of the stage, Anne turned to look at her fellow queens. She almost cut off her song in the middle of the second verse when she saw their concerned faces. Why were they looking at her like that? Was something wrong? Ignoring it, Anne moved to center stage, her body slow and barely keeping up with the tempo. Her voice was cracking between syllables, and clearly people were starting to notice. “Anne?” she heard Joan in her ear.

“Sorry not sorry -” Anne managed to get out before her body seized up and she collapsed, limp on the floor. 

Immediately, Kat shrieked, dropping her character and rushing to her cousin’s side. The audience had gone completely silent, unsure of what was happening. Microphone discarded, Kat started to shake Anne. “Anne? Annie? What happened? Why aren’t you saying anything?” The poor girl was terrified, watching her cousin’s blank, empty face. 

For a moment, there was stillness throughout the entire theatre as Kat leaned over her unconscious cousin, eyes filled with tears. Then everyone sprung into action, all reacting at once. The four other queens scrambled over to Anne’s body, trying to see if they could get a response. Anna put a hand on Kat’s shoulder and tried to pull her backwards softly, trying to offer support for the worried teen. Jane was instantly at Anne’s other side, examining her face. Aragon and Cathy were standing over Anne together, not wanting to get too close and invade the girl’s personal space.

The audience was reacting terribly, having not expected something so unbelievable to occur. Many of the guests towards the back were trying to get out of the theatre, not knowing what had happened other than a performer seemed dead. A handful of the audience has pulled their phones out and were recording, documenting the events as they unfolded. But the majority of the audience was talking frantically as they watched the queens for any sign of what to do.

The ladies in waiting were the real saviors. Maggie ripped off her guitar and scrambled towards one of the audience members, asking, “Can I use your phone?” Maria and Joan scrambled backstage to look for anything to help Anne while Bessie moved to join Maggie and crowd control. The person Maggie was talking to fumbled for their phone, getting it out and handing it over to the lady. Maggie quickly dialled 999 and waited for a responder to pick up.

Kat had fallen backwards into Anna, gripping her arm. The older queen was holding her friend tight against her chest, making sure she had someone to hold onto. Maria and Joan returned with a couch pillow that they slipped under Anne’s head to better support her. Kat mumbled something, but Anna couldn’t make it out over the cacophony of sound the audience was making. “Say that again,” she rubbed Kat’s shoulder, trying to make the girl feel safe.

“Is Anne going to be alright?” Kat mumbled, slightly louder this time.

Anna didn’t want to make a promise she couldn’t keep, so she told Kat the truth. “Honestly, I don’t know. But Anne’s a fighter, and whatever it is, she won’t go down easy.”

Kat nodded and sunk further into Anna’s arms. Her eyes never left Anne’s prone form, but her breathing slowed down, if only by a little bit.

On the other hand, Jane was very much still freaking out. Cathy had migrated over to her side and Aragon was talking with Maria and Joan by Anne’s head. “Why did we let her go on?” Jane’s face was turning white like Anne’s ashen one. “We should have noticed something -”

“But we didn’t,” Cathy cut her off. “What Anne needs right now isn’t regrets, okay? She needs you to be strong and ready to help her when she needs it.”

“I can do that,” Jane glanced at Cathy. “We can do that.”

“Yes we can,” Cathy agreed, taking Jane’s shaky hand in hers. It was only a small source of comfort, but it worked in the moment. “Things will be fine.”

Aragon couldn’t help but overhear Cathy and Jane. She sighed, itching at her big costume. It wasn’t the ideal clothes for a moment like this, but that wasn’t something she would complain about. None of this was ideal, but it was reality and Aragon had to wake up and face it. “Maggie’s already called an ambulance, they’ll be here any moment,” Maria told her friend.

Watching Anne out of the corner of her eye, Aragon prayed the ambulance was about to enter the theatre doors. “What if it’s already too late?” Fear was starting to creep into Aragon’s body, swallowing her with it’s black, unforgiving jaws.

“It’s not,” Bessie promised, “It can’t be too late.”

“But what if -”

“What if’s mean nothing Catherine,” Bessie explained. “The ambulance is almost here and that’s what you can rely on.”

As the words came out of Bessie’s mouth, the theatre doors slammed open, EMTs rushing down the aisle and up onto the stage. They shooed the queens away from Anne, picking her up with ease and setting her on a stretcher. In the blink of an eye they were gone, rushing back out of the theatre with Anne in tow. 

Shooting out of Anna’s arms, Kat gasped, “We have to follow her, go to the hospital!”

“Kat, we’re in our costumes in a theatre full of confused people -” Aragon tried to say.

“We can handle the crowd,” Joan took Kat’s side. “You get changed and head to the hospital where Anne is.”

That was all Kat needed to bolt offstage and up to her dressing room. The queens thanked the ladies and stood up, following Kat to get out of their costumes. Once they were offstage, the ladies turned their attention to the clamoring audience. Maria picked up a discarded microphone and tapped it. “Everyone!” she called for attention. “I’m sorry you had to see that. I wish I could tell you that we know what happened, but the truth is we don’t. If you could please give us all some privacy while we deal with this, it would be greatly appreciated.” Before the audience could respond, the ladies turned off the microphones and prepared themselves for the onslaught of questions they were about to face.

Thankfully, Aragon had decided to drive the group to the theatre earlier instead of taking public transport. All the queens piled into the car and drove in silence on the way to see Anne. There was a clear tension among them, no one having the answers they all so desperately wanted. It felt like hours before they finally reached the hospital, but Aragon pulled into a parking spot and they were free to rush to the front doors.

Kat made it first, followed closely behind by Jane and then the other queens. They entered the hospital and beelined for the nurse’s desk. The woman sitting at the desk looked up and smiled kindly. “How can I help you?” she asked.

“Anne Boleyn,” Cathy informed her, “she has to be recently admitted.”

Scanning her papers, the woman nodded. “It looks like she’s in intensive care currently, but I can send over a doctor to talk to you.” At her words, Kat recoiled, her arms wrapping around her body. The girl’s breathing sped up and she stumbled into Anna, pulling her friend close.

Keeping her composure as best as possible, Cathy nodded. “If you could, please.” The nurse pulled out a phone, but Cathy had turned her attention back to the other queens. They were all in different states of shock. Kat was on the verge of tears in Anna’s arms as the German queen scrunched her face together in order to hide her emotions. Aragon was staring at the ground, her body unresponsive. Jane was holding a hand to her mouth, her eyes wide and unseeing. And Cathy herself was doing everything possible to hold herself together in order to keep some form of control over the situation.

A moment later, a doctor emerged from the hallway next to the nurse’s desk. “Family of Anne Boleyn?” He asked, raising an eyebrow. The five queens nodded frantically, their distress clear as day. “Well I hate to tell you this,” the queens inhaled sharply, “But Miss Boleyn had a heart attack.”

“Wh-what?” Jane stuttered.

“How is that even possible? She’s young and fit,” Cathy furrowed her eyebrows, not convinced by the doctor’s answer.

The man put his hands up in defense. “We really don’t know what caused it, probably something genetic. There’s a lot we don’t know about you bunch, so we can’t say for sure. But one of her main arteries was severely blocked, so much so that she could have died.”

“Could… have?” Kat asked.

“Could have,” the doctor confirmed. “Miss Boleyn will be fine, and hopefully soon too. But right now, she needs her rest. We’re lucky we were even able to help her so quickly. I suggest coming back another time.”

There was a universal sigh of relief among the queens at the doctor’s confirmation. Even if they couldn’t see Anne, even if she wasn’t with them, she would be soon. “Can we come back tomorrow?” Anna questioned, pulling Kat closer to her.

Clicking his tongue, the doctor shook his head. “You can come check in, but you won’t be able to see her for a couple days. But I’ll make sure you’re all told when she wakes up.”

“Thank you,” Aragon’s smile was small, but genuine.

“Of course,” the doctor nodded and disappeared once again. 

It had taken a couple days, but finally the queens would get to see Anne. It had been chaotic, trying to deal with all the videos that had surfaced of the girl’s accident and all the rumors that had popped up. The media didn’t quite understand that the queens and ladies wanted privacy as they tried to deal with the fallout of Anne’s heart attack.

But none of that mattered, because Anne was awake and they were going to see her. “Do you think she’ll be sick?” Kat asked, playing with the edge of her coat.

“Why would you think that?” Cathy replied as she opened the doors to the hospital.

“Well some symptoms of a heart attack are nausea and vomiting, so I thought maybe she might be feeling sick,” Kat explained.

Aragon patted Kat on the back. “I don’t think they’d let us see her if she was still sick. But there’s only one way to find out.”

The nurse at the front desk acknowledged the queens, remembering them from previous visits. She pointed down the hall, a small reminder of where Anne’s room was. This would be the first time they would actually get to see her and not pace around outside her door. “Moment of truth,” Anna psyched herself and the others up, putting a hand on the doorknob. Slowly, she pushed it open so they could see Anne on the other side.

There were plenty of machines and tubes surrounding Anne, but her face was no longer grey and her eyes had regained a familiar light. “Queens!” she gasped when she saw them. “You came.”

Kat rushed over to Anne’s side, but restrained herself from hugging her cousin. Instead, Kat slapped Anne’s hand lightly. Kat then gave a hmph and crossed her arms. “What was that for?” Anne frowned.

“You scared us,” Kat dropped her arms and leaned over Anne.

“We thought you were going to die,” Jane spoke up from across the room.

Turning her attention to Jane, Anne attempted to shift herself in the bed. “Jane,” she huffed as her hand almost slipped, “I wouldn’t have died. I’m Anne Boleyn. It takes a sword to the head to get rid of me, not a stupid heart problem.”

“But,” Aragon spoke up, “What if it gets bad again?” She internally cursed herself for going back to the what if’s. 

It was surprising how Anne was the most laid back of them all. “I won’t let it. We won’t let it. So what if I have heart problems, apparently. Not doing anything isn’t going to fix it either, so I’m still gonna dance and sing. Sound good to you?”

Anna chuckled and put a hand on Anne’s shoulder. “Sounds great to me.”

And together, all the queens shared a genuine smile, relief washing over them like a calm wave. Anne hadn’t sung her last performance, and she hadn’t taken her last breath. And that was the important thing, they realized. Maybe Anne wasn’t on stage, singing her heart out. But Anne was fine.

Anne was fine. 

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Tag List:

@radcowboyalmondtree @boleynhowards @annabanana2401 @babeebobo @dont-lose-your-queerhead @everything-insanity @mindless-pidgeon @i-wanna-dance-and-sing-six @thedemidisaster @its-totes-gods-will @thatbolxyngirl @thenameisnoone @sixqueendom