#wouldn’t be me if I didn’t write one last ah controversy thought piece

[gvinfrees]

a send off to ah.

i remember years ago when a gaming group I didn’t really watch disbanded. i remember thinking at the time “I wonder if achievement hunter will ever end”. It was my worst nightmare.

And here we are. Here we finally are.

I’ve kept my distance from ah since last year when a lot of things got dug up from the past. And I’m not going to sit here now and pretend those skeletons didn’t and still do exist. Nor will I ignore the harm they caused.

But as ah said “you can do better”, and thankfully from their current/former now? employees’ point of views, it seems like they did by the end. Even if that can’t undo their past mistakes.

But no matter what, I still can’t overstate the importance this group had on me. I found ah in middle school from a random tumblr post and it quickly became my biggest support. I struggled in middle/high school from being heavily introverted and struggling with anxiety.

But all I’d have to remember was that there was going to be Minecraft on fridays. VS on tuesdays. GTA on mondays. As embarrassing as it sounds, it really kept me going.

There was a long stretch of my life where I didn’t go a single day without watching some form of their content.

I remember so vividly having one of the worst days of my life as a 14 year old, crying my eyes out and thinking the world was going to end. Then the rainbow 6 let’s play of jack laughing at Gavin throwing a grenade at himself came out: Suddenly I was crying of laughter. Their content did that for me when nothing else could.

And I have hundreds of memories just like that.

It goes without saying there’s been a lot of downs as an achievement hunter fan. And honestly I don’t even want to go into detail because we all know some of the worst.

But to grow from a 13 year old to a 24 year old through their content, I can’t not at least recognize something that had such an effect on me for almost half of my life.

A part of me is surprised I am so sad by the news considering how long it has seemingly been on the horizon. But I also can’t wipe their importance from my life. And though I rarely watched their content over the last year, still knowing it is gone hurts.

So I have handled this like any normal person would, i bought the piece of retired merch I never was able to get off eBay to remember them by, and wrote this way too wordy and sentimental post.

And with that, thanks for a lot achievement hunter. 💚🖤

[darkdevasofdestruction]

The Idiot ~ Fyodor Dostoevsky

In which the reader is the last Russian princess from our contemporary times and Fyodor is there to watch, observe, analyse and write a novel while being the reader’s sort of guardian/mentor, all while reader finds herself in an impossible, almost-Anna Karenina-like situation that drives her to desperate decisions.

And yes, I’m very much basing this story Dostoevsky’s “The Idiot” novel, Tolstyi’s “Anna Karenina” and Katyusha, both the Russian song, and the “Resurrection” novel from Tolstoy that has Katyusha as an unfortunate, yet important character.

Also, a little nod to our dear Ana Lesko for her song “Anicyka Maya”, which will serve as a cute little nickname for our dear reader, although the song is Romanian, and it’s about a seductive woman. 

Other nicknames will include: Kiska ( kitten ), Zaika ( bunny ), Kroshka ( little one ), Krasotka ( gorgeous ).

I’m not Russian, I don’t know about Russia’s culture, history and language as much as I know about my own, obviously, but as ex-commie & ex-USSR, we still have a shit ton of similarities. Nevertheless, I will try not to get into too many details that will compromise authenticity.

Luxury, glamour, wealth, gold, jewellery, diamonds, class, facades, masks, masquerades, social gatherings, lies, marriages, politics, horses, deals, gambling... These represent some of the few words people from everywhere around would describe the royal family.

Why do some still exist, anyway? Shouldn’t they have just completely disappeared at the same time with the Romanov family? ...Stupid cartoon movies and their resurrection of Anastasia...

Nobody truly cares about these rich rats who worked naught for their wealth, and would never understand the struggle and poverty of the normal citizens of Russia...They just live in their abnormally huge palace, having more servants than the population of Moscow and eat at one meal more than normal people do in one week altogether.

How utterly ridiculous.

Their lives are all perfect, they marry themselves to keep that ridiculous purity and their infinite wealth in the family...How atrocious!  What about charity? Kindness? Altruism? Helping out the common folk?

All these thoughts, and you’d think a very bitter and vindictive, very poor and malicious person came up with, and yet, the reality was rather distorted. 

From the top stair of the palace, in a dark room, sitting on the windowpane, a gorgeous young woman cast her dull eyes over the snowy city and the people hurrying down the roads, hoping to go home before it got too late and cold.

Maybe they were poor and hateful, and rightfully so, she’d say, but perhaps they can also be deemed happier, if they can take into account their freedom...As much as the government provides them, at least - Yet even so, even the poorest person held more freedom than this caged bird, forever trapped and shackled by fate from the second she was born...As if she had any choice, that is.

Perhaps she deserves this treatment, this hatred, this...Manipulation from her own family, who only see her as a political and financial pawn, planning her marriage from the second she first cried into this world... Like a martyr, she will accept all torture and live on, never knowing what ‘living’ truly means, only imagining it by reading all day and all night long, or when she plays the piano one of the many songs she learnt.

As the grandfather clock rang to 7 times to announce dinner time, Y/N dressed in a simple, yet elegant dress, put on a pair of classy black stiletto shoes, and went down to the luxurious dining room, sitting in her usual seat, only for a brunet stranger dressed in white to grace the sight with his unexpected presence.

She didn’t dare speak to him, yet her eyes couldn’t leave his form, no matter how her meek demeanour made her hung her head to avoid showing anything other than her demure expression.

Thankfully, her parents arrived, along with the waiters that served the food, so it saved some of the awkwardness of the unknown.

“Y/N, darling, this man here is Fyodor Dostoevsky. He is here as a writer, wanting to learn more about us and about people in general. As a compromise, he agreed to be your personal guard...Considering the other one was a sacrilege to our dear daughter...What a lecherous man, making advances on you...But, anyway, let us toast to the success of this young man’s writing career!” the mother raised her champagne, and the four of them clinked glasses. “I thank you for the unique opportunity to learn and understand society and people better. May you live a long and prosperous life.” this new stranger held a charming smile on his face, trying to impress and buy everyone’s trust. “Do you have yet any idea about the theme of your novel? Or, perhaps an idea for a title?” the father asked, making the brunet shake his head softly. “No, not yet, unfortunately. I prefer to study hard, and only then, when I am educated enough, to allow the flow of creation to take over me.” this Fyodor nodded in acknowledgement, while the girl kept completely silent for the duration of the dinner, waiting for everything to be over so she could escape back to the little faux haven she created and called ‘safe’. “Y/N, show Mr. Fyodor to your room, he will be sleeping there for now on. The butlers already brought a spare bed there, so it’s alright.” the mother waved her hand dismissively, and the girl could only bow quickly and go back to her room, making sure to point out what each of the rooms represent, before reluctantly inviting him to her bedroom. “Please, make yourself at home, Mr. Dostoevsky. I hope it will be comfortable and to your liking. Should you need anything, please do not hesitate to tell me so we can make your stay as great as possible.” she spoke to him in a soft, meek voice, not daring to make eye contact in any way. “Call me Fyodor, no need for formalities. We are going to room together, might as well become friendly. What don’t you tell me about yourself? Your hobbies, your interests, your dreams, your aspirations.” the brunet paced around the room, observing all of her personal objects, which, turned out, except for jewellery, books, a small, pink Gloxinia, and a pickup with 1920s British vinyls, there was nothing to represent her...Which was, in its own way, an intriguing peculiarity. “I...Like reading, flowers, music...And I wish I could get a dog and learn how to play the violin too. There aren’t many interesting things about me...I’m not special or anything out of the ordinary. I am not allowed to put myself out there in any way, so this is the little I could do to express who I am.” so tried to be as vague as possible, fidgeting on her feet uncomfortably, knowing that the punishment for embarrassing the family would be grave, should it be known. “Hmmm...I see, I see...Ah, you’re a Tolstoy reader, I see. Anna Karenina...Very interesting, yet tragic, wouldn’t you say?” he asked, picking up a book that was supposed to be hidden. “N-No! Don’t take that out of there...Nobody can know I have it. I was strictly forbidden from reading it...Please don’t tell anyone I have this book.” the princess snatched the book from his hands, hiding it further back in the bookshelf. “Ohh~? Why would you not be allowed to read a Russian book? You’d think the Russian princess would be urged to read Russian literature.” he stepped in front of her, picking her chin and raising her head slightly to allow him to look deep into her fawn-like eyes. “Because of the ending...And the controversial decisions Anna made, some of them even contradictory to her own beliefs, and yet, she made her own decisions, at some point in her life. When your fate is decided from before you are born, having opinions is the worst enemy of a puppeteer...Wouldn’t you agree?” she muttered, walking away from him, taking her nightgown and walking towards her bathroom.

This made the man think more about how dysfunctional this supposed perfect royal family actually was. The illusion of a flawless individual, living together, forming a flawless family, a flawless life, in a flawless palace. 

Perhaps facades aren’t as obvious to see through, or understand, for while the parents are completely bland...This girl...So much potential locked away in a timid chest of massive oak wood, embellished with overly expensive jewellery, clearly unwanted. She could be a genius, shining in her happiness, glowing like her dazzling smile, and yet, there she is, eclipsed by chaff, when she could be burning brighter than the morning Sun.

Those parents of hers think he wants to be here and get dazzled by the infinite stream of diamonds that keep flowing around the whole place - And yet, perhaps they are the ones living in mental poverty, considering they believe financial wealth and fame is the sole reason for being alive - To uphold a certain kind of status that they worked naught for, but received hereditary, from one lazy deadbeat to yet another generation of useless people for this society.

They truly are like the plague, incredibly rare nowadays, but completely fatal once you fall grasp to their dark claws that drag you to hell to succumb to their completely fictional utopian world that they create only amongst themselves, as if whatever lives beyond these golden walls is putrid and deserves to rot to pieces.

As his mind wandered farther and farther away down the country, snowy roads he created with his own imagination of thoughts, he heard the bathroom door softly open, and the angelic creature garbed in a thin - Possibly silk, snow white nightgown - Stepped back into their now shared room, and just as before, her demeanour resembled that of a small, frightened fawn, or a bunny.

When you have to deal with such a pure being that could completely shatter, it’s difficult not to impulsively break down all walls around and snatch her away - It’s close to impossible not to attempt to test all existing boundaries and see the limits where she would break...Or, almost, at least. 

However, abstinence makes for a great suspense and greed...You want more...And more...And the more you wait, the harder it is to resist, but the satisfaction you get when the frail creature trusts you enough to eat from your own palm, and you finally claim it as yours...

It’s Heavenly.

“Sweet Dreams, Fyodor.” she spoke softly, putting on a Tchaikovsky vinyl and picking up a book, getting in bed and reading it, the only light still open being a dim lantern on her nightstand. “How would you like to show me around the city tomorrow?” the brunet asked so casually that it shocked the girl enough to drop her book on her lap. “O-Oh...U-Uhmm...I’m not exactly to go out of this place unless it’s for Christmas shopping...I’m sorry I can’t properly do as you wish...” she quickly took her book back, hiding her face to hide her embarrassment and disappointment. “Well, then, what a gorgeous coincidence, isn’t it? In barely two months, Christmas shall come, and then, you can properly show me around, correct?” the man mused, the ghost of a smirk playing on his face. “..You’re right! My, you’ll get to see the beautiful fairy light and Christmas decorations all around the city! I can’t believe it, you truly chose the perfect time to come here. Oh, and, the ballet, the opera and the national orchestra are going to perform...I believe The Nutcracker is going to play this year...And Traviata. It should be beautiful, don’t you agree?” Y/N asked with a soft smile on her face, sparks gleaming in her eyes, and for the first time since he’s met her, it felt like she was finally alive. “Yes, yes, I would have to agree. And if you are there with me, the experience will be even better.” he hummed, teasing the poor girl who had no idea what else to say to such bold affirmations. “O-Oh...W-Well...Th-Thank you...I-I think...Your presence there will also make the going out more interesting...And nice.” she offered a comeback that pleased the man well enough. “Good night to you as well, Printsessa.”

What a lovely young woman, he thought, as he closed his eyes and let his mind fly at different aspects of life and of humanity, trying to decipher each and every person he met that day and wondering if his assumptions were correct, as they always are.

Morning came by faster than expected as a shy ray of of Sun creeped inside the room through the window, but Fyodor was already awake, writing at the desk rather rapidly - Most likely, he had some inspiration hitting him, so he proceeded to pour out his conflicting thoughts on the paper, all while stealing a peek from time to time at the girl sleeping peacefully, almost as if she was a Disney Princess.

The way the soft light caressed her face had him take the stray streak of h/c hair and pull it back so it won’t tickle her awake, while also being allowed to watch her peacefully inhale and exhale, a small smile on her face...Perhaps she was having a beautiful dream? Was that why she told him to have sweet dreams? Were her dreams her only lovely escape from this horrible reality she was forced to live in?

There were so many mysteries yet to be unveiled, but all in due time, as Fyodor noticed the gentle flutter of her lashes, and with a grace only reserved to a Swan Princess, she raised and stretched with a sweet hum, and the brunet man watched as his eyes felt absolutely blessed seeing such a beauty...

If people complained that Disney Princesses weren’t relatable, since they have messy hair when they wake up, just like Anna, they clearly haven’t seen how perfect Y/N looks, even as she blinks her sleepiness away.

“I see you slept well, Printsessa. Good morning.” she heard him speak, and she noticed it wasn’t as en garde and...It almost seemed...Pleased to see her. “Fyodor...You woke up before me. You should have woke me up. Please wake me up next time, I wouldn’t want you to feel lonely or upset. This place is like a piranha tank...Thread carefully, otherwise, you’re like a little animal who fell in.” she quickly got up, rushing through her daily routine so she could be by his side, not only because her parents assigned her to that, but also because this Dostoevsky man is the only little thing that could rip her out of her completely dull routine and show her a little bit of insight into what could be something out of her imagination entirely. “Aww, the little songbird wishes to spend time with me, how adorable. Very well, Printsessa, what is it that you want to do today? My job here is to observe and write, after all.” he asked, crossing one leg over the other, resting his chin on his fist, watching her with intense interest. “Oh, well, I have to practice the piano today, but other than that, I have nothing in my schedule.” she explained, guiding him to the music room that very much resembled a whole orchestra surrounding a place - Not too small, yet not too big either - Meant for ballroom dancing. “I bet the national orchestra isn’t as fancy as this place is.” he mused, walking up to the cello and tracing his fingertips across the chords. “...Do you know how to play it?” she asked, walking up to him, having the curiosity of a baby fawn exploring the world. “Would you like to hear?” he asked, sitting on the chair and expertly hugging the cello, he grabbed the bow and teased the girl with a mischievous look in his gleaming purple eyes. “Oh, yes, please, if it’s not too much to ask! It would be absolutely splendid.” Y/N clasped her hands together, grinning widely as she stepped a few feet away to give him enough space so he could start playing. “It would be my pleasure, Printsessa.” and with the nod of his head, he started playing the famous Sugar plum fairy song, making the girl gasp in surprise at how gorgeous it sounded.

She crouched to reach the perfect eye view of the bow gliding along the chords, her mouth slightly agape and she gazed with absolute wonder, not even realising when the song was over, for she was much too mesmerised.

“Well, Printsessa, how did you like it?” he rested his arms on the curves of the cello, leaning forwards for a better look at her. “That was better than even our national cello player! It was absolutely stunning, woaw...Just...You left me speechless! You’re...You’re...You are...Perfectly splendid!” she clapped for him rapidly and incredibly enthusiastic, making him chuckle in amusement at her cuteness. “Why, thank you, Printsessa. How about you entertain me now, little Anicyka Maya?” he carefully put the Cello in its place, stepping in front of her and caressing her porcelain skin, quenching his thirst for discovery by seeing her rosy cheeks. “Well...I can’t say I’m anywhere as great as you are...But, sure. I hope you will like it.” she looked down, fidgeting with her fingers as she hurried timidly to the piano, and taking a deep breath, cracking her fingers, she liter her fingers skillfully dance over the keys, as her voice followed every word of the song called “Katyusha”. However, she wasn’t expecting him to applaud and whistle to her, congratulating her for being such a beautiful nightingale. “You clearly underestimate your hard work and talent. Perhaps we should play together one day. I’m sure it would put a smile on your parents’ faces.” Fyodor bowed to kiss Y/N’s hand, only to hear the door opening. “Yes, Mr. Fyodor, we would quite like to hear the two of you dueting together. Since Y/N will have to perform both dance and a song at the piano, as a Christmas tradition, it will show how much she’s improved...If at all. I have to tell you the truth, Mr. Fyodor, over the past few years, she has been exceptionally disappointing...Well, perhaps you coming here will prove to give her a jolt in the right direction.” Y/N’s mother came out of nowhere in the music room, almost as if she was stalking the pair, and Fyodor could see how the Princess’ behaviour changed 180 degrees, and from the excitable and lively young girl, she went back to hide in her guarded shell, trying to protect herself from the numerous blows everyone throws her way.

And just as he expected, once they started playing, despite throwing in one or two intentional mistakes, while she had none of her own, the mother reprimanded her daughter, while praising him. He thought, at first, this was going to be some kind of tough love encouragement and determination she was trying to give the girl, but truly, it was nothing more than unrealistic dreams of an already flawless performance.

This family was nowhere close to being the perfect, or the most loving one, that was without a doubt. But being so horrible to your own daughter, humiliating her in front of a complete stranger, making her tremble softly while trying her best to keep herself from bursting into sobbing fits, was a whole different kind of cruel and unnecessary malice.

For some reason, Fyodor felt a certain kind of warmth in his chest...But not the same kind of warmth he feels when he is around Y/N, but something...Similar to fury. To rage. He was sure he never felt such a personal sort of offense, despite not being him that was belittled.

A terrifying sort of justice bubbled inside him, and he smirked, thinking about just one sole thing.

Crime and Punishment.

Fyodor hoped dearly that it would be only the maternal figure that was the problem, yet it seemed to be much worse, and the toxicity levels that kept vibing all over the place seemed to be equivalent to that of Chernobyl at the time of the explosion.

All throughout the week, he noticed the dirty looks all the staff was giving the Princess, possibly because she was being a shy and quiet pushover...But it went completely beyond his understanding how these servants would even dare be so rude to her, considering she is always so sweet to them, always forgives their mistakes and shares her whole allowance with them in equal parts...

But they complain it’s not enough. They complain others get more, or less, but clearly, they don’t care about that, they just want more and more money...They are greedy jackals who don’t care about the life or soul of a poor little lady who just wants to be happy...

But perhaps happiness isn’t meant for royalty.

A week until Christmas, and Fyodor was ready with the quick draft, and he left it on the desk for Y/N to read, and he couldn’t help but admire and drink in each and every emotion she would express on her lovely face with every word she read, every action, every chapter that stirred more and more conflicting feelings and thoughts battling together - Conflicts that she was trying so hard to hide, no doubt feeling his burning, hawk-like stare on her, analysing her as if she was a new specimen under a microscope.

She was great at hiding what she truly felt, yet her eyes betrayed her inner self, the sparkling of nostalgia and sadness crawling out, shrieking at the top of her lungs to be discovered and taken out of this well of darkness she was drowning in - She wanted to be saved, she was at her breaking point, and clearly, she was afraid. 

Afraid of life. Afraid of people. Afraid of her family. Afraid of this society. Afraid her own self. Afraid of her actions.

And most of all.

She was afraid of spiritual, mental and emotional imprisonment.

As Christmas approached with rapid footsteps, Fyodor could notice how Y/N stiffer, more silent, flinching more, keeping herself in check, alone, barely speaking to anyone...Clearly, she was being stressed out and afraid of the consequences of screwing up anything.

Perhaps, the problem here was the fatalist and completely out of her control destiny she was thrown in, and she knew from the very beginning that, no matter how flawless her performance was, she would still be reprimanded and punished, so she resigned herself to this kind of treatment...The same as every year.

“It’s so beautiful outside...And it’s snowing...! So soft and cold...It’s almost numbing you entirely, but the beauty of Christmas still melts down even the most frozen of hearts.” she spoke with such sadness dripping from her tongue, that Fyodor felt the need to take his fur hat and put it on her head before taking a hold of both of her hands, rubbing them together and kissing her knuckles. “It’s not the day or the decorations that are supposed to move a person, but the kindness and altruism of people. From what I’ve seen in the past weeks, the only consistency in this place is the beauty of your heart and the cruelty of everyone else that keep eclipsing you. You deserve better than this, kroshka.” the man spoke simply, waiting to see the way she’d react. “...I didn’t choose this life, nor did it choose me, yet here I am, trying to keep my head above the water in a whirlpool. I have all my life planned and written ahead of me, and there’s nothing I can do about it. From the very beginning, since before I was even born, they knew they will sell me out to some old, rich man, just so they could benefit, but they cared naught about my well-being, as long as I could keep him entertained in any way possible. The least I can do is try to enjoy the little things...Even if they are nothing more than just that...Little things.” she admits to him, taking away her hands and holding them to her chest, too afraid to trust her own heart. “You let the servants make a mockery out of your kindness. You let your family humiliate you in front of everyone. You let common folk bash you, even if you tip them greatly...Tell me, krasotka, have you read the draft to my book yet?” they continued to stroll down the cobbled streets, looking up at the snowflakes gently dancing in the light of the lamposts, as Fyodor carried most of her shopping bags that held Christmas gifts for everyone but herself. “Yes...I did...But I did not finish it. I was much too afraid to read the ending of it.” she nodded to him, biting her lip nervously. “Afraid? Why ever would you be afraid of reading some words made of ink on a piece of paper?” the man frowned in confusion and interest, hearing such a peculiarity of an answer. “Because...Because I know that Prince Myshkin actually represents me...And how life treats me...So I’m afraid the ending will hint to Anna Karenina’s ending...And I don’t want that. I don’t...That’s why I’m afraid...I’m scared that...I’m scared that I won’t be able to endure this madness anymore, and sooner, rather than later, I will shatter into an unrecognisable version of myself that not even I will decipher...And I will do scary things that I would otherwise be afraid of even thinking about. You know I read the book, I wouldn’t put it past you to tease me like that.” she smiled ironically, shaking her head to stop herself from shuddering at such a dreadful thought. “Congratulations, Printsessa, you are surely insightful. However, I must advise you to read it, and keep in mind that you are not entirely wrong in your thinking. While the ending isn’t identical to Tolstoy’s novel, it isn’t on the complete opposite spectrum either. What you read is one of the possible outcomes of your life, should you choose to remain a passive onlooker and let everyone control you, like a little, pretty doll. Should you, however, choose to take fate into your own hands and finally make your first choice of your life...I can promise you, you are going to be much happier.” Fyodor kissed her forehead before leading her back to the palace so she could take the day off...For tomorrow, she must perform.

But the author wasn’t lying, Y/N realised as she spent the last hours past curfew to finish the book, and she realised that while Myshkin didn’t kill himself, he was still dead inside, and just like the catatonic state he was stuck into, she has been living a life of complete comatose herself.  Fyodor was right all along - A life without choices is not a life, nor is it one without freedom and happiness - And maybe, for the first time in her life, she would make the most difficult decision the universe threw at her, and that was to choose between Duty and Happiness, something every royal member, especially women all over the world, who were seen as nothing more than political and decorative objects meant to create heirs and nothing more, had to pick, and dutifully chose to sacrifice themselves to keep the family and the nobility going.

But not anymore....

“You look beautiful today, my little zaika. This velvet colour of your dress, the way it highlights you stunning silhouette...And this jewellery...And your hair and make up...You are above and beyond the most beautiful person to ever grace this life. How are you going to enchant us today?” Fyodor pat down his white suit so he would look completely impeccable...Or, perfectly splendid, as Y/N would say. “Does it truly matter, in the end? Nobody but you will pay attention, and at the end of the day, I will only hear critiques. It’s the same every year, so there is no point in bothering to stand out, have any particularity or give a name. It just...Is. So...Let me get this over with so I can go to my room and pretend this day never happened...Again.” she muttered, hooking her arm to his, entering the big ballroom together.

A ton of people were there, not only family, but enough family ‘friends’, all of them incredibly rich, with a combined fortune great enough to buy the whole Russia somehow...And all eyes were on her. She didn’t mind. She was used to the nervousness and the either critical or lustful stares she received - But only during these kinds of events, and because she was a Princess, otherwise nobody would have cared about her existence or her feelings...

Nobody...Except for Fyodor.

Until the time of his arrival, nobody cared about her, nor did they bother trying to understand or talk to her, and yet, here he was, always by her side, and frankly, she fell in love with him. She, for the first time in her life, cared naught about everything surrounding her, and she thought solely about him and their time spent together. That is all that mattered to her.

So, with that in mind, and a warm heart, she performed the Waltz of Flowers flawlessly at the piano, along with a few other songs, adding some festive ones. Fyodor was absolutely captivated by the spells she put on people whenever she radiated with such pure gentleness, just like Christmas’ true angel.

Her fingers glided so gracefully over the keys, as she hummed along the music, not even bothering to look at the sheet, for she new everything by heart - But somehow, it all sounded even more magical than before, and nobody could tell why.

But Fyodor knew, and he smiled, figuring out her trick. And he was going to call her out for that when this whole charade was over.  But for now, he allowed himself to enjoy bathing in her radiating warmth, for she was shining brighter than the Sun itself.

By the time she finished her little repertoire, she did a pretty courtesy and walked to the man in the white suit, taking a glass of red wine and sipping from it, that gentle smile never leaving her face.

They exchanged no words, but there was no need for that, as the look in their eyes spoke more than anything else, and they danced the night away, together, in graceful and intimate waltzes, or swaying together, keeping their hearts glued together, beating in sync and feeling each other’s heat.

She might not have wanted to end up like Karenina, but she wasn’t too far away from her situation, and she knew very well, should she leave with this man, she was going to break down every rule, and find an identity for herself, after all these years.

But happiness is emphemeral in the life of a Princess, and just before the Christmas Ball ended, her parents dragged her to the table of this old man, so they would share gifts. This old man, who so happened to be the man chosen to be her future husband, and had fewer hairs on his head and teeth in his mouth than her age.

Most of the gifts were pretty basic - Jewellery for women, cigars, fedoras, watches for men...But for her...She received some of he oddest gifts so far - And yet, she thought life couldn’t surprise her anymore.

Several little outfits, fit for babies, were neatly folded in all boxes, sans one - The sole box being a small, velvet box, which revealed a sapphire ring that expressed the definite bond of marriage that must be officiated very soon, through papers and a church ceremony.

Frozen was the clock, frozen was the time, and frozen was life itself, for the shock was great - Being put on the spot is scarier than the anticipation and fear of venturing into the unknown - Yet here she was, with her supposed fossil of a husband, with several babies promised to be born, and a very angry author, watching the disgusting exchange of pleasantries between the elder people.

He noticed Y/N doing a little courtesy, excusing herself with a nervous smile, and rushing out of the ballroom, the clicks of her elegant heels giving away her location at all time. Following her, he saw her on the edge of the rood, barefoot, her back to the empty space, as she hummed, looking up at the clouds pouring snow, and swaying to her tippy toes occasionally.

“You sure like the feeling of being alive, don’t you? Otherwise you wouldn’t be staying there after being faced with such a disgusting situation.” he pointed out, clasping his hands behind his back and carefully stepped towards her. “Life is full of surprises. But it is not called life, unless you have a say in the paths that you go down by. Today, I realised what I have to do in order to achieve true bliss and happiness...Something ethereal, although utopian in its quintessence. I have to make a choice. And right now, I’m making it.” she smiled, extending her arms to the side, resembling a Goddess, as a few stray tears streamed down her face - But they were tears of relief, not of fear, anxiety of depression. She was happy. “You said you didn’t want to choose the path of Karenina, nor of Myshkin, and yet, there you are, on the brink of death, as the way to show that you are no longer a caged bird. Is it truly worth it, in the end?” Fyodor asked, frowning at the delusional words she was spewing. “Death is but the beginning of a new adventure, and with me falling, I will find out what freedom is, unlike all the other Princesses before me. It is not death I’m choosing, nor will I regret it as soon as I step into this free fall hazard, like Karenina, and, as you can see, I chose to wake up from my catatonic state, unlike Myshkin. I know what awaits me as soon as I reach the ground...But do you?” Y/N hummed in amusement, watching the conflict painted all over his face - And it was for the first time that Fyodor showed such confusion and inner turmoil, that much was obvious to her. “Stop this, Y/N, I don’t understand your reasoning, but don’t kill yourse- “ but he couldn’t finish his sentence, for the girl uttered just a few words - Words that changed even the rotation of the Earth around the Sun - And as she pushed herself on the tips of her toes, she embraced the cold wind of Winter being her guide down to the ground, as she watched the snowflakes following her down.

And she smiled.

Because love won, and life won, and she knew she chose correct - These weren’t the times to choose everyone else over herself anymore, and nor is she a saint, a martyr, an angel, or some perfect Christian role model.  She was just a woman thirsting for happiness and for the tangible sensation of life and of flying, and with this jump, she got completely wasted.

The secure embrace of a white angel made sure she lived for another day, but not quite, for her guardian angel jumped to save her, yet had no idea himself that he wasn’t the only special one, after all, and just as they were going to reach the ground, time seemed to stop, and they reached the ground gracefully and softly, like two linked feathers.

She lay down on the crystal blanket of snow, laughing mirthfully, almost with a childlike charm, as her long hair was sprawled all over her, and Fyodor’s arms were fiercely holding her, and he looked down at her, his eyes wide in understanding.

“I didn’t choose death. I chose life. I chose love...I chose you, and I chose me. I knew you had an ability too, and that you were confident in it, so I was sure that, should you choose to, you could jump from the roof of the palace to save me - Which you did. I never really have the opportunity to use my ability, but it’s rather useful in some situations, if I can say so myself. So, by the way you’d respond to my feelings and actions, I’d know whether I chose right or not...I think we both know the answer now, don’t we?” she grinned mischievously, extending a hand to his face to caress it gently. “That’s the most idiotic, most reckless thing anyone has ever one...And yet, you strategised everything, as if we were pieces in a game of chess. How did you get the courage to reach such a conclusion?” his voice was low, like a murmur, trying to understand her impossible, labyrinthine mind. “Life offered me a Christmas gift today, and that was serendipity, so, I used it. Everything else was a perfect strategy of a game of chess I played myself - The White King versus the Black King - And, was far as my luck and the universe brought about, I believe I won. But you must still answer back, otherwise, the magic will vanish.” Fyodor noticed a smirk growing on her face - One that somehow resembled his, and he almost felt conflicted seeing her mimicking him in his demeanour, in a way...But he also felt incredibly proud. “I cannot take you with me, Y/N. The part I walk is dangerous, it could even be fatal, and I would rather you not walk down a boulevard of broken dreams. You just now achieved happiness, don’t throw it out of the window. It a world full of crimes, I choose to be both the justiciar and the executioner of the unworthy. In a world of crime, I shall inflict punishment upon the evil-doers and paint this world red with the blood of the guilty.” he wanted her, he truly didn’t want to leave without her, nor did he want to leave her alone, here, with these hyenas, but could he really have it in his heart to endanger her so? “Fyodor, my darling, it matters naught for me whether I live or die, as long as the journey is by your side, and I’m not shackled anymore. I want to see, I want to hear, I want to touch, I want to taste, I want to smell, I want to learn. Everything. Without exception. There is a whole world out there, open, waiting to be explored and unveiled, and I shall be its explorer. As long as I have you by my side, I will surely be fearless. Being a hero, being a villain, or anything in between is of no concern for me...However, I cannot deny that I would be rather...Interested in seeing you deliver the sentence down to...Some specific people.” she giggled, winking at him, as she obviously hinted towards her kin and the unlimited amount of gossips she has heard about so many people, over the years.

With a wide smirk on his face, Fyodor Dostoevsky helped Princess Y/N on her feet and gave her a passionate, fire-like kiss, before picking her up bridal style and making their way to her room, so she would start packing and leave at the earliest convenience.

There may still be a bit of official work to do at the palace, and as his ability is called, there is no crime without punishment, he was going to make sure of that. Until then, there was one thing certain, and one alone, that was going to guide the both of them to a path of exciting uncertainty and thrill.

“I love you, my dear Y/N.”

[bounnostra]

I should Not be Listening to Mr. Blue Sky as I write this || PIP || Monothea

He tried so hard.

He tried so hard to conceal the truth.

To lie.

He burnt bridges.

He ruined friendships.

He antagonized himself.

All for the sake of a goal.

For the sake of derailing the trial enough to keep people from finding the truth. 

And yet, and yet-- it all falls apart, just like that, doesn't it? He heard those words from the 'monster's' mouth. He wasn't supposed to be there. He did everything he could to get it right, to derail the trial, and somehow it worked. He lied through his teeth, and somehow his theories stuck to some. Masaki being alone in the Udon Stand? Yeah, right. He said that through clenched teeth, and by some miracle, it manage to stick. The amulet belonging to BOOTS' previous partner, hence the magic traces? Admittedly, he didn't slip that one through so thoroughly, but it at least got people to focus on it more than necessary. Helping provide evidence on why Amita and BOOTS both intended to betray one another and using other's words against them? He learned to do that here. But he had at least convincingly led the trial to the wrong conclusion. So why is this the final outcome?

Masaki? PIP certainly cared for him, and spoke honestly about how he felt about him, but matter-of-the-fact was that he was dead. Taken too soon from this world, his life wasn't stolen by BOOTS, Masaki was stolen from mankind! But unlike Masaki, BOOTS was still alive. Once the owl had interrupted, even though he was dejected on the outside, on the inside he was beaming! There was still one... One last thing in this place that brought unbridled joy to his life, and it wasn't IVEY, DUCK, ROOKIE or anyone else that he had gotten buddy-buddy with, but her. But then the announcement came. A 'technicality.' A. Technicality? What? His eyes widen, but no sound escapes him. What did the bird meant by 'a technicality?' No, this couldn't be right! And yet, it was. Even after all he did, after trying so damn hard, it all just gets taken from him.

Is it selfish? Yes, he recognizes that now. But why should he care? Everyone else was selfish here, everyone had their own morals and ethics! Everyone else did stuff that only made them happy, so why is him sticking up and empathizing with his partner so controversial?! He doesn't see anyone questioning QUININE's unity with ORWELL or even DUCK's flings with IVEY. So why is his partner the only one deserving of this punishment over a technicality?! The tightening of his chest, was that... Regret? Regret over not having contributed to ORWELL or IVEY's demise during the previous trials? Yeah, it is. But he's tired. Exhausted. The current is simply too strong, and sometimes the best thing to do is to just, stop fighting. The amulet-- he still has it... He can only grip it in his hands and stare at the gem and his reflection on it. Fragmented. Shattered. Broken on the outside and on the inside with no magic to replenish it. Dull coloration. It's how he felt.

"I hope you are all happy now. You are all just as guilty for murder as BOOTS. May the blood that now smears your hands never wash away. I swear that if any of you even come close to me, I will not hesitate to kill you where you stand."

He then wraps the amulet around him once more, and notices he still has ORWELL's note in his hand... Ah, that's right, he had yet to read it... It wouldn't matter anymore though, right? He doesn't bother to unfold it and just, tears it into tiny little pieces and drops them to the great below, scattering its remains never to be read. He knows exactly who the 'three' Gambit mentions are, exclusively because he knew what this case consisted of, and why he tried so hard to hide it, just like IVEY did with ORWELL. But he remains silent, and only gives soulless stares to those three unnamed individuals. 

He hates this. Why does he feel like this? Why does he feel so irate? So... Wrathful? So angry, tired, exhausted, so... Wrathful! Is this what it felt to fume? He didn't like the feeling of it at all! He thought the feeling of nausea that came over him after lying eyes on Amita and Masaki's bodies was enough to make him sick. He felt as if it had been his throat and chest that had been so savagely slashed! But somehow, this feels even worse. This burns, an anger that doesn't quell, but a silent one. A silent one that he fears won't ever end...

"I'm not forgiving any one of you for this."