#I absolutely despise Dostoevsky

[springs-hurts]

White nights/Fyodor Dostoevsky.

[fyodere]

gakuen!fyodor smut

my cold fingers running through your hair.

﹙ 💬 ﹚── parings: fyodor dostoevsky x fem!reader ♡

₍^. .^₎⟆ ── content warnings / tags : nsfw content (mdni), high school!au, fyodor is mean, nasty absolutely filthy smut, misogyny kink, corruption kink, academic rivals, petnames, degradation, fyodor is a sadic, hairpulling, blowjobs (m receiving), underage (you and fedya are like 17), catholic guilt, wet dream, dirty thoughts ♡

﹙ 🔪 ﹚── synopsis : Fyodor never liked you, not with your presumption and your ability to always get the questions right in the classroom. He not only didn't like you, but he hated you, even though he despises you as woman, you constantly occupy his thoughts. However, somehow, you haunt him. Fyodor wakes up with a start, he realizes that you were present in his dreams. A dream he would pray to forget.

﹙ 🩸 ﹚── author's note : GAKUEN!FEDYA SMUT BABYYYY oh lord you guys don’t know how much i’m excited for this. I even made an ai bot of this concept on janitor ai. this was on my drafts since last year so excuse my grammar 😩 i hope you enjoy it !!

୧ ‧₊˚ 🔪 💬 🐈‍⬛ ⋅

Still breathless, Fyodor tried to look around to rationalize the situation. He could see straight now and his eyes were getting used to the darkness of his room.

03:27AM

Oh.

Dostoevsky sighed. It was late, he needed at least one good night of sleep for his upcoming test and cello practice. Now his body is feeling uncomfortably awkward. This was unusual, Fyodor always keep everything in check. Maybe if he tried to close his eyes, and if he lay really still, he could trick his body into falling asleep again. It was a good plan. Obvious, but still good plan. Fyodor smirked for himself as he close his eyes again, of course he always have a plan.

But then, the sudden feeling on his throat came back. His heartbeat is racing again. What is it? No, It couldn’t be…

Fyodor opened his eyes with a slight feeling of rage. He remembered.

Oh, he remembered.

And for the first time, he wished for his brilliant brain stop working. Fyodor knew how his memory was sharp, but now it feels like a big waste of time.

Fyodor had a dream. A dream that he would pray to God just to forget. Could he call it a nightmare?

It wasn’t a nightmare for sure, but it was still cursed. Maybe uncomfortable and embarrassing.

Embarrassing. Ah, how Fyodor was glad that anyone couldn’t look at his poor face at this moment. He hates when he doesn’t have full control of the situation, keeping his feelings under control was a form of not getting lost, he is used to it.

Fyodor doesn’t dream regularly. He was a really sleepy or not sleep at all type of person. When his body finally gives in to fatigue, the dreams become blurry because of his mind’s tiredness. But Fyodor doesn’t mind at all, Dostoevsky couldn’t see the mystical side of dreaming. For him, this was only a way for his mind process everything that he saw through the day.

That’s why his friends appear regularly when he dream about something. Sometimes his family when his subconscious is trying to process his past — even though Fyodor is neutral about most of his dreams, he would consider these the bad ones. Or at least the ones that he would like to forget.

But it wasn’t that type of bad dream either.

When Nikolai or Sigma appear on his dreams things get a lot lighter. It always ended up being a relief. Sometimes he chuckles for himself in the most unfortunate moments remembering those. Fyodor let a nasal laugh come out when this thoughts come on his mind.

No. This wasn’t the answer yet. His dream hadn’t been any of those things, but he is getting close.

He dreamt of you.

You.

This wasn’t surprising for him though. Fyodor knows — Oh God, how bad he knows — how he keeps you on his mind. Fyodor could justify himself telling that you’re his rival and it’s normal having plans about the next provocative thing he is going to say when you guys met again, or spend time thinking about how he is going to destroy you in the upcoming test.

Fyodor could pretend that he was fooling himself with those false conclusions, but he knows the truth, he always knows. It’s the greatest Dostoevsky after all, the special child that was gifted, or even better, blessed with his brain.

But it wasn’t the case, and Fyodor knows that too. He always knows. Another sigh came out of his mouth, Fyodor closed his eyes and take another deep breath. When did he allowed himself feeling this emotions? This wasn’t right. But he can’t keep torturing himself, maybe just for tonight he will allow all those thoughts come — Just for releasing them in the next day, of course.

Fyodor still could feel the warmth. It was cleaning day and you were his duo, this mean that you’re going to be together for a while. It may sound exhausting, you guys were rivals and have a psychological war while cleaning was kind of messed up. You guys were in a silent truce. No one had to flag this, you both could read the situation — And each other’s thoughts, even though you’re not going to admit that —, you payed too much attention on him just like he recorded every reaction of you. From your facial expressions from your small and smooth body movements. Every detail.

Well, it’s not like you could run away. You also committed your sins when spent too much time looking at Fyodor bitting his thumb while he was concentrating, you hated how playful yet majestic his actions are. Everything about him just fitted so perfectly that you couldn’t help but feel some anger— Or just full yourself to believe that you’re not feeling other type of intense feeling beside rage.

You were sweeping the classroom’s floor while Fyodor cleaned the windows. The sun was setting and the sky was turning into a beautiful orange color slowly turning darker as the clouds complemented it. Suddenly, everything felt warm. Fyodor was looking at you by the window reflection, he also could see how much he was staring and this made he feel ashamed. You could feel Fyodor’s piercing gaze even though he wasn’t even looking directly. You couldn’t help but give a small smirk.

“Looks like someone can’t focus on his little task…” You said playfully, your eyes were still looking at the floor while you sweeps. You wanted to give that unbothered impression. “Am I distracting you?” You finally looked up, he was still looking at the window. You could hear his sigh — It almost sound like a laugh.

How presumptuous. Fyodor thought. And you know that he thought that. It make you chuckle, this unexpected harmony was slowly tying you two together.

“Oh.” Dostoevsky finally turned to you. His silently confidence makes you want to shut his mouth before he even dare to speak a word. “Oh, darling, I almost forgot that you are here.” Now was Fyodor’s time to be presumptuous, and he knows how this will get into your nerves. “Trying to get an excuse to talk to me, ah? How cute.”

You let a tsk come out. Fyodor felt victorious keeping you silent. Now you’re looking at the floor again, sweeping the classroom. Even though your eyes were focused the task, your ears still work perfectly. And you heard Fyodor’s slow footsteps getting closer. You know he is behind of you now, but you try to play clueless.

“Hmmm…” Fyodor is getting closer to you, he is speaking next to your ear. Your body gets tense. “What is it now? Little mouse got scared?” His voice almost sound like a whisper, a very teasing one. His breath is touching your neck and ear. Where did his russian accent became so provocative? Now his hands are slowly moving to your waist.

Fyodor likes how you look small next to him. You look so vulnerable, so easy to tease. He can’t let you scape now. Now his hands travel till they reach out your upper body. Dostoevsky couldn’t help, he squeezes your uniform letting it wrinkled. Your breath got heavy as he keeps touching you, unfortunately, you catch yourself biting your lip to not let a moan slide. Fyodor’s touch feel so great, he loves how his big and skilled hands can hug perfectly your curves and play with them.

“Wait…” You finally open say something after opening and closing your mouth for a while, your voice is a little shaky and a few sighs come when you talk. “Not here, what if somebody—“

“Hm?” Fyodor cut you off abruptly. He doesn’t like when you complain, he likes to have full control of the situation. “I’m not doing anything, darling. Am I?” Now his hands squeeze you more roughly, as if he wants to get a better reaction from you. The russian young man has a smug look on his face. You look so fragile and easy to mess with. He enjoys the sense of control, Fyodor is taking the lead now, and you feel like a loser for enjoying it so much — It’s like screaming that you lost.

Dostoevsky's eyes widened slightly, and his fingers tightened around your waist, making you feel uncomfortable. He didn't seem to notice your pain, though. Instead, he leaned forward, pressing his lips against your neck. His mouth was cold and dry, but you could still feel his tongue licking your exposed sensitive skin. When he finally pulled away, he smiled, his eyes glinting with satisfaction. He let go of you and sat back in his chair, his hands resting on his thighs. He seemed to have forgotten about your existence entirely. You felt like nothing more than a toy he played with when he got bored.

Dostoevsky is silent for a moment, contemplating whether to continue or not. He looks at you with a half-smile, a hint of cruelty in his eyes. He knows how to play with words and actions, and he takes advantage of every opportunity to make sure that you´re miserable and uncomfortable around him. He is not someone who shows affection or warmth, and he is definitely not someone who is good at expressing feelings. He is a cold, calculating man who sees everything in terms of power and control. His tone is still harsh, but there's a hint of softness in his voice when he says. "You're not doing anything?"

You decided to act like a greedy whore and got into your knees.

Fyodor pulls down his pants and underwear, revealing his cock, which is already hard. He strokes it slowly, watching you closely. He seems to enjoy the way you react to his actions. He keeps on talking, his voice is still harsh, but there's a certain amount of tenderness in his tone. He doesn't want you to feel bad, just frustrated and unhappy. He is a sadistic bastard, but he has a soft side too. And it shows in the way he treats you. "Now, tell me, what do you want? Do you want me to fuck you? Or would you prefer me to beat you? Which one do you like better?"

"Hit me. I challenge you." You giggle in a act of courage. "I know you can’t—" Fyodor chuckles darkly, a sign of his humor. He's not laughing at you, he's just teasing you. He slaps you across the face, hard enough to make you cry, but not enough to draw blood. He leans in close, whispering in your ear. "Tell me, how do you like being treated like a piece of meat? A toy to be played with? A slave to obey? Because that's what you are, isn't it? You're nothing but a whore, a filthy, worthless piece of shit."

Fyodor was merciless. He didn’t care about the brimming tears in the corner of your eyes, didn’t care about your shaking legs or your small chokes.

Slobbering sound filled the small stall, and you sat on the floor obediently like a little puppy as he used your mouth to his liking. Your uniform was wholly unbuttoned, bundled up at your elbows with your nipples peeking from your bra.

It was always his favorite look on you, clothed in the school’s garb. The uniform that should represent your focus on studies and discipline is wearing for you choke on him. Fyodor has to admit how pleasing it is, it arouses him to the point of madness.

“Good little mouse, now, open your mouth and stick out your tongue.” He commanded once more in a commanding but still seductive tone. He was loving this, the power is was feeling. His smirk grew as he continued, he was loving every second of this.

His eyes were dark and sinister now, they were almost completely in a reddish purple tone. His pupils are comically big due the excitement. He seemed so in control now. He loved it.

Fyodor smirked once more as you do as asked. You seemed to be getting really into this now.

Your tongue pressed wide and flat. Fyodor shuddered at the feeling, at your tongue rubbing over his slit, precum oozing out. You did it again and Fyodor let a moan slide out, you was pressing the tip of your tongue into his slit now, coaxing out more of his essence. Dostoevsky loved the feeling, he loved how pathetic you look like this.

It was so intense, the sight of your lips curled around his cock, how piercing his arouse gaze was. You hummed before sinking down, swallowing as much of Fyodor’s length as he could. Dostoevsky was panting, the feeling so intense that it was almost overwhelming. You began to suck harshly, cheeks hallowed out and you was bobbing your head now as well, head going up and down as you sucked Fyodor’s cock. The russian didn’t want to say it loud, but he wasn’t going to last.

"Good little mouse, I knew you could do it." He said in a soft and seductive tone, his eyes closed in pleasure. His hands moved to your head now, he loved the feeling of her hair in his hand. He seemed a little proud, even. He felt like he had helped you, in a way. "Good girl..." He whispered as he gently stroke your hair.

You keep sucking him harshly, enjoying how he felt warm inside of you. You couldn’t help but let a few tears coming out. The intelligent girl with a sharp tongue was gone, now you’re just a little whore to Fyodor play with — and you both sightly love this.

“Do you like to be dominated by a man like me, little mouse? Are you such a submissive little girl?” He asked with a smirk. He seemed to be amused by the whole situation, by all the control that he holds now. You can almost feel that he was about to release.

You felt your panties dampening as he say that, he grabbed a fistful of your hair keeping your head in your place as he changed the pace to a quicker one, accelerating the beats of your heart. He was pulsing inside your mouth. He was so close, so close, so close…

Fyodor just couldn’t resist. The wet and warm feeling of your mouth along with your pity puppy face was driving him crazy. You are being so obedient to him. He need to fill your mouth a little more, just a little more…

“Jesus.” Fyodor said to himself, alone in his room. The dream was wild, he feels pretty ashamed by how sinful and dirty his mind can be when he is asleep, at least you will never know that. Right now he just want to close his eyes and go back to sleep, but this weird feeling don’t leave. His hair still feel sticky and his forehead sweaty. His skin felt so tight like a growing claustrophobic feeling.

Oh, wait.

Dostoevsky looked down to his pants with a disgusted face. How shameful of him. Now that he has knowledge of the weird feeling on his body it’s easier to ignore.

Ah, for sure he isn’t going to go anything about that besides ignore. Fyodor genuinely believe that masturbation is a stupid thing, he is not going to waste his time — and risk his inner pride doing such a thing.

Dostoevsky closed his eyes taking a few deep breaths, he just needed to clean his mind. Maybe counting one to one hundred could help, Fyodor just need to take you away from his thoughts.

He just didn’t expected how addictive this fantasies are.

hii heres part two <3

[ldrfanatic]

HIII OMG just seen your account and I love your stuff I just don't wanna spam like and fill your notifs. Please only do this if you can spare the time, and I hope you're having a lovely day (If you wanna talk about it I'd love to hear it)

I know you probably get a lot of these asks but I was wondering if I could request milk with the Slytherin Boys. I'm 5'3 with soft dark brown hair and tanned skin sort of like my pfp but less pretty lol. I have dark brown/black eyes and I'm rather curvy with muscle. I have a strict routine of getting up early like 4am to study and exercise and get ready for the day doing affirmations and stuff, I crochet, draw, bake, sing and write though I haven't posted anything. I'm a huge My Melody fan (love you forever if you like sanrio) and my favorite things are pink, strawberries, grapes, bows and bunnies. <3 Dostoevsky on top frfr. Have a blessed dayyy!! 🌸

thank you so much!! @thestrawberrythatgotaway

okok. firstttt thank you so much that's so sweet! I've been sitting on this one and I think that you would be a great fit for Mattheo.

I want to specify, that animagus Mattheo who turns into a doberman is what I'm thinking about when I say Mattheo.

He loves your overall appearance and thinks that all of your features mesh together literally perfectly. With your dark hair, caramel skin, and brown eyes, you're like a little slice of heaven for him.

Mattheo does absolutely despise waking up early, but he will get up, transform into his animagus and then follow you around taking power naps while you complete the various steps of your morning routine. One thing he will do is early morning jogs with you. It's perfect because then if you want to run outside, you've got scary dog privileges lol.

Matty loves to indulge in your creative side. He will buy you supplies for baking or drawing or crocheting and will sit and listen to you sing, staring at you like you hung the moon. (this mans is w h i p p e d). Also, Mattheo is incredibly comfortable in his masculinity. He will wear pink with you, let you put bows in his hair if you want, and dance with you to all your favorite songs no matter if they're girly or not.

He tries to pay attention to the little things as well. He'll bring you little bowls of fruit while you're studying. If he can find tickets, sometimes he'll try and take you to concerts. Once he heard from Blaise about "being written by a woman" he tried to replicate that tenfold in your relationship. For Christmas one year he got you a bunny and takes care of it perfectly if you ever have too much going on.

Mattheo's nicknames for you:

bunny ( self explanatory, most common)

shnookums ( you guys use this one for each other to gross out your friend group by being all overly lovey )

angel ( he uses this whenever you guys are having soft or intimate moments alone. it's his nickname for you that only you get to hear)

[aureatchi]

okay so don't come at me but i have been possessed by something, SO !! ofc i have to run here to scream it out hehehe >:))

"she chose me," "hmm, did she?"

fyodor smiles smugly at dazai's unnerving stare, unaffected by the latter's intense gaze. in fact, it only seemed to amuse the raven haired man, if the way he effortlessly moved his chess piece to take out dazai's unfortunate pawn was any indication.

"you know reverie despises you," dazai says instead, eyes intently staring at the board, determining which piece to move next to wipe away the smug grin on his opponent's face.

"despise seems such a strong word for someone who saw us sharing annotations together." fyodor hums. "besides, she is a much better companion, academically, of course. in any case, i much prefer her over you."

dazai narrows his eyes as a grin makes its way to his face. "oh? is that how you think? then remind me who exactly was the girl that played chess with me two days ago that was, dare i say, better than you? was it not she that i spent time with, alone, might i remind you, here in the warmth of this library, our topic being you? or has that slipped your mind, dostoevsky? you saw us leaving, no?”

fyodor’s smile was forced this time. “ah, such a low blow, insulting me in the middle of a chess game. but very well, how about we make this interesting, hmm?”

“oh?”

“two weeks. one week for each of us. the first man to get reverie’s approval, that is, allowing her to be close to us and gaining her favor entirely. it is she who will choose which one of us is the better student, though i must say that having her choose between the top two students in the class sounds rather thrilling, no?”

dazai hums. “thrilling, yes. entertaining, absolutely. just wait, you’re going to lose,” he chuckled darkly, sliding his white chess piece forward, effectively checking the black king.

fyodor smiled wider, his violet eyes glinting with mischievous amusement. “always so confident.” he easily moved to protect his king.

“may the best man win.” they both said in unison just as the object of their conversation opened the door to the library quietly.

“reverie!”

…blame it on the books i saw yesterday in the bookshop okay… in any case, these three in a dark academia setting has my entire heart. expect more to come, miss rev !! mweheh >:))

ARE YOU FREAKING KIDDING ME 🥹 !!

i’m giggling so hard at this entire thing, mia LIA, i can’t believe u wrote this for me. SHARING ANNOTATIONS W FEDYA !! u get it. BEING IN THE LIBRARY ALONE. W DAZAI !! omg me being the topic of their conversation during one of their intense chess matches has me sooo (｡≽\\\≼) & WALKING IN JUST IN TIME AT THE END !! omg the WAY you researched this from my actual lore i srsly am going to get u back day miss lia <3 you’ve spoiled me way too much !!

i’ve been reading this over & over + their little challenge ever since this came into my inbox, LOL omg they think they can play w/ me… “may the best one win” 🙂‍↕️ they think they’re the best & smartest plot twist i choose ranpo.

[paladinwife]

I'm going to keep reading, and I just made a post about it, but ... please tell me I'm not crazy for finding Peter Petrovich's/Luzhin's little scheme about Dunya revolting--

The whole thing about needing his wife to be some poor woman he can "rescue" ruffles my feathers ... and it reminds me a bit too much of Catherine in Wuthering Heights (I'm sure you're familiar with how much I despise her asdfghkl)--marrying to "save" someone just feels icky to me. But also I needed confirmation from my Russian literature mutual that I'm not misinterpreting this (I only just started Chapter III of Part IV, so if anything happens after, I have yet to read it--going to get back to it after I send this ask).

I know you said I could pop in and ask about it, but I still hope this ask is alright!! Feeling some emotions over this.

~ throughpatchesofviolet 🪻

@throughpatchesofviolet

Oh no you’re absolutely right! It’s true that Russian lit, especially around this time period, has most of the cast be varying levels of morally ambiguous - but Luzhin is, intentionally, one of the worse of the lot, and from my memory Dostoevsky almost belabors that point. His intentions with Dunya are absolutely shady, and you’re definitely not wrong for feeling that way!

[sarcastic-trash]

The Decay of Angels - A Collective List of Most To Least Disliked Members

Disclaimer: This is just my opinion. You don't have to agree, just be respectful please. Additionally, this isn't discussing the real life authors and how I veiw them. Only discussing the fictional characters.

MANGA SPOILERS ⚠️

Fukuchi Ochi

I absolutely despise Fukuchi. Cannot stand him. Let's tally up the amount of times he's pissed me off. So, when he "killed" Akuatagawa - I could write an entire essay on why I think it's fake out but, he still had the intentions to kill - betraying the Hunting Dogs, betraying Fukuzawa (someone whom Fukuchi supposedly called"friend"), kidnapping Tanizaki and Kunikida, and stabbing Ranpo.

Also the fact Fukuchi kidnapped Tanizaki was especially irriatating cause I had this whole entire theory. Now it's ruined because of Fukuchi so yeah. Besides that, this man has proven to be the most annoying member of the DOA. His ability annoys me because of that sword. He's so ridiculously overpowered it genuinely makes me anxious for him to just not be alive.

So yeah, moving on.

Fyodor Dostoevsky

Look, I apologize if any of you simp for this man but, I simply don't the appeal. The only good things he did was stab Mori and create Sigma from the book (if you cannot tell, I like Sigma). However, when Fyodor created Sigma he allowed Sigma to be used repetitively. Until he showed up and asked Sigma if he wanted a home. That was a manipulation tactic. Sigma felt used, isolated, and alone.

Fyodor used this to his advantage - he knows Sigma will do whatever it takes to protect his home. Sigma doesn't want to feel used and lonely again. Hell, Fyodor even admits to Dazai in prison that he knows Sigma will do anything. Fyodor created Sigma with the plan to manipulate him and use him further.

I know a lot of people dislike Dazai cause he's manipulative but, this is the thing that makes Fyodor worse. He created Sigma with the single intent to use him. Dazai has never created someone. He has brought in people and picked up people with the intent of using them or manipulating them (Atsushi and Akuatagawa). He never went out of his way to create a new person with the single intent to use them.

The way I see it - yes what Dazai did was wrong and terrible but - creating someone from a book to manipulate them is just as bad as giving birth to a child with the intent of abusing it. That's why I loathe this man. Sprinkle in the fact he dragged Chuuya into the Prison Arc and viola - the perfect reasons to slap a bitch!

Nikolai Gogol

Listen, I don't dislike Nikolai. He's cool - he's funny and hasn't pissed me off, yet. However um...

I am terrified of this man. For a few reasons being he genuinely is unpredictable and his overall appearance. I'm not saying Nikolai is unattractive (he actually has some really pretty fanart for him) but, his appearance is unnerving. Especially since he's know as the "Clown" and I don't like clowns. They unnerve me and typically make me uneasy. So to clarifying, I only rank Nikolai here because I'm lowkey terrified of him.

Bram Stroker

I like Bram. Despite him being just a torso, he's pretty cool. I don't read him as particularly malevolent, just tired of everything. He doesn't even have control over his own ability so I can't even get mad at him. Since not much is known about him, this ranking may shift. As of now though, I can say I like him.

He's not too rambunctious nor is he an annoying bitch (cough, Fukuchi). He's just there.

Sigma

Onto my favorite Decay of Angels member. Honestly, this man immediately had me attached to his character. When we got his fake out I didn't know who to be mad at. When it was found out Nikolai saved Sigma I was relieved.

Another thing, when I first saw Sigma I was confusedly thinking, "This a dude or a girl? Or are they nonbinary?" Yeah I love his backstory and his motives for his actions are abundantly wholesome. All he wants is a home and family. That's so sweet - even though not all of his actions are.

So that's that. I might do this with the other organizations. Other than that, I ask what's your opinion of the DoA members?

[writing-radionoises]

karma

ship: none, just fyodor & karma

genre: canon compliant

prompt: fyodor can't help but see himself in such a helpless boy.

notes: tw for implied religious abuse and canon typical violence

I rewatched the Karma episode a few days ago and could not stop thinking about Fyodor's perspective of this whole event Honestly I Do Not expect anyone to read this because all my non-ship stuff never does well but... I think we need more complicated Fyodor relationships in our lives

A warm towel dries Fyodor’s once silky hair from the red wine.

His head hurts, though it’s nothing he cannot tolerate. This wouldn’t be the first time a glass bottle has been shattered on his head.

Truthfully, he thinks being hit on the head with a Bible hurts much worse.

The bruises from that would stay for days, his head would throb for hours and hours without end. Just thinking about it made Fyodor’s brows furrow in pain.

“You should just give up, you know,” said the boy from behind him, removing the towel from Fyodor’s hair.

Fyodor estimates he’s not older than 15, young and mistreated. He seems numb to violence and pain at a mass.

Fyodor can’t say he isn’t the same, though.

“Maybe,” he replies, softly as he runs his own fingers through his damp hair.

He will likely smell of wine for the next couple of days… Dry cleaning will be a pain.

“There’s no way to escape, Ace has you cornered,” he explained, looking down at the deep red and purple stains on the fluffy white towel, “It’s better to give in rather than to die.”

“I believe you underestimate me,” replied the Russian man, “I am not new to this situation.”

A slight chuckle comes from the boy, “I admire your bravery, I wish I could be like that… But really, I’m pathetic… I’ve been looking for an escape since I was young, and I still haven’t found one yet. It’s been seven years, I’ve given up on looking for one. I once believed and wanted to become the boss of the Port Mafia, but it’s nothing but a foolish dream now...”

“Ah, I believe I understand,” Fyodor answered, looking up towards the boy.

He did understand, though it wasn’t something he could say aloud. He spent years and years underneath a priest, suffering in pain and certain he’d never escape. Fyodor had spent so long tolerating the pain that he had forgotten he could fight back, he had forgotten he wasn’t helpless.

God left with him a gift, a way to escape.

Without such a gift, Fyodor would be in the exact situation this boy was in. He’d still be under that priest, maybe he’d work in the Church in St Petersburg, and run the youth group.

But he was lucky, and was no longer in such a situation.

“What is your name?” Fyodor asked the ginger boy, who snapped out of his daydream as he looked back at Fyodor.

“Oh, they call me Topaz.”

“Your real name, Зайчик .”

Topaz gave him a strange look, beginning to half mindedly fidget with his collar as he glanced off to the side.

“Karma,” he said, hesitantly as he placed the towel back on Fyodor’s head, “My birth name is Karma. Might I ask what… Whatever you just said means?”

Fyodor chuckles, “Is a term of endearment in Russian, it means bunny. We use it when referring to children.”

A blush came to the face of the boy as he began to dry Fyodor’s hair once more, desperate to distract himself.

“You’re a strange one, Mr. Dostoevsky.”

Fyodor closed in eyes in contentment, tucking a piece of hair behind his ear once more.

“I take pride in that, Зайчик.”

Fyodor clutches his coat a little closer, a ring of keys in hand as his heels click against the tile of the ship.

He had outsmarted Ace, and led him to his own suicide.

It was a simple trick, nothing too complicated and a trick he had already used only a few months prior.

Though, the expense of the trick this time would be the red stains all down his white shirt and Ushanka.

Fyodor found as time went on, the wine smell just made him more and more uncomfortable and angry.

His former home used to smell of nothing but such red wine, it was a disgusting smell that overwhelmed every part of the home.

Even some days today, Fyodor could smell the alcohol on himself.

He would scrub his skin raw and red with every soap imaginable, but the moment he stepped out of the shower, he could only smell the disgusting liquid all over him, infecting every part of his being.

Fyodor much preferred vodka, in comparison to his guardian.

Fyodor bit down on his thumb, continuing to walk to the vault when he saw the familiar boy once more.

Karma.

The boy stared at him with wide eyes, astonished in every way as he looked Fyodor up and down.

“Is he-?” Asked Karma, to which Fyodor nodded.

“He is dead.”

Karma looked down at his shoes, shoving his shaking hands in his pocket as he tried to comprehend such a thing.

Fyodor suspects he thought that he’d never be free of the Port Mafia executive.

It seems that with every moment Fyodor spends with Topaz, he finds himself seeing only more and more of his younger self in Karma.

Fyodor tries not to think about it.

He despises his younger self, letting himself be thrown around the way he was when he was obviously destined for so much more.

Fyodor shook his head, placing the key into the vault lock.’

Never again , he thought to himself, I’m no longer like that.

“How did you-?”

Fyodor only gave the boy a weak smile, “Methods you do not need to know. It was but a simple trick, a mind game between myself and him. Unlucky for him, I am much more experienced in such tricks, and so he lost to me.”

Karma looked Fyodor in the eyes, such an action that shook the Russian man to his very core.

There’s fear in his eyes, yet also confusion, a need for guidance and nowhere to gain such guidance.

“You… Really are the devil.”

Fyodor’s breath catches in his throat as he grasps the files he was searching for, gripping them tightly within his hands.

“You are a devil of a child! An absolute monster! I will reform you into something worthy of God’s love!”

A forced smile comes to his face as he looks back at Topaz.

He was always a good actor.

“I am, it is how I survived such a world as this,” he responds warmly, “The only way to defeat evil is to become evil itself.”

Karma’s brows furrowed in worry.

“Are you certain?” Fyodor nodded, “Of course. I have been on this planet for twenty-three years, fifteen of which were a living hell. To crawl out of hell is to best the devil, and he is hard to impress. And so, I will grant you the most merciful gift.”

A gift from God, he thought, though quickly corrected.

No, a gift from the devil.

Something I had craved most of my youth, and something all those similar to me had also craved.

It is the least I can do for him.

Fyodor pressed his cold hand against Karma’s forehead with a warm, yet saddened grin.

“The gift of death is the most merciful, the kindest gift of them all,” he explained, Karma staring up at him in complete horror and confusion.

Fyodor watches the young boy fall to the floor, the life fading from his eyes in an instant.

His smile falls away, a sigh escapes him as he holds the files close to his chest.

There is very little to do with someone of such weak will, though he couldn’t just leave the boy as is…

It would be too painful. The boy would end up exactly like him.

No one deserves to suffer as he did.

“May you have better luck in the next life,” Fyodor hummed, and continued on.

[ghostplantss]

(some) amis as 1830s intelligentsia

i know comparing fictional characters w real human beans isn’t a good look. but indulge me

fantine: maria ogareva! she’s so painfully witty and intelligent, so sharp and outspoken that her husband’s friends (herzen) thought it wasn’t becoming of a woman and ostracized her for it, and, although she tried very hard to appeal to them at first she eventually just. realized some things just can’t possibly be salvaged. she fashioned her marriage after george sand’s novels (jacques in particular i think!) and was horribly let down when it all failed miserably. but it’s the way she believed so desperately in love and fought for it and how unbearably strong she was

bahorel: bakunin. punchy radical man. likes secret societies. has a loving relationship with his family. has experience with barricades. kind of up his own ass.

feuilly: belinsky. hear me out. feuilly as a literary critic? feuilly as a journalist? the “in more civilized countries they have guillotines for people like you” or so i paraphrase. it’s the wittiness, it’s the passion, it’s the romanticism, and maybe i just want feuilly to insult people more. also i just. have a headcanon that feuilly and bahorel can’t stand each other. just! think of it. imagine feuilly taking everyone down a peg. imagine feuilly absolutely hating prose. imagine feuilly writing impassioned letters to hugo calling him a sellout. i’m so in love with belinsky. moving on

combeferre: pls forgive me. dostoevsky. it’s the contradictions, the tortured vacillation between passionate convictions. if combeferre survived the barricades? jasdfdsajl do you dare argue, w any certainty, that he wouldn’t’ve become a royalist?

courfeyrac: turgenev! it’s the way he can’t stay upset with anyone, the way he needs everyone to adore him. but if you insult his loved ones he will challenge you to a duel. and then he’ll write you a pained but sincere letter of apology that’ll get lost in the mail. it’s the way he can’t bring himself to say a cruel word of anyone, the way he’s so sweet and witty, the way he falls in love passionately and would not at all mind being the lover and “family friend” of a married opera singer. it isn’t just because combeferre is dostoevksy and i want the friends to enemies (to friends again. please. i can dream) slow burn. shhh. it’s also the way dostoevsky would look at him and be like ‘and you believe in freeing the serfs? with your estate?’ also just. imagine if courfeyrac and bahorel were roommates. the chaos.

(also if marius were rudin and rudin were bakunin like turgenev said then. then marius and courfeyrac would be roommates again. but i don’t? trust turgenev’s judgement?)

jehan: i’m apologizing a lot today, and i will again, but. stankevich. i’m so sorry. he loves poetry but can’t write any himself, not for the life of him. jehan would love feuerbach. he would love purifying fire of love. he despises prose and folktales and that is so valid of him. imagine jehan, young hegelian, absolutely obsessed with enjolras, the actual hero of his time, doomed to greatness. i just. i need more jehan and feuilly, best of bros, huddled around candles, talking abt love. please.

marius: aksakov! silly ridiculous aksakov. stopping random ppl on the street to be like “hello have you considered wearing traditional clothing? you would be much prettier in traditional clothing.” it’s the way he’s absorbed his father’s conservative views and flaunts it constantly around his more progressive friends, and is very shocked and affronted when he’s confronted with the fact that they don’t take him esp seriously.

[hisdelicatelittleflower]

ADVICE | Love is TOTALLY Overrated! (But Probably Not for the Reason You’re Thinking): A Love Letter to the Lovers

Worry not, dear reader! This actually isn’t the ravings of the archetypal “woman scorned,” here to tell you how falling in love is an awful idea, making yourself vulnerable in a romantic relationship is never worth the potential heartbreak, or that marriage is not a honorable, beautiful, and blessed vocation to pursue.

In fact, quite honestly, despite being the nearly 700 miles that separate us and all of the surprisingly difficult (and fairly instantaneous) exterior trials that tested and later cemented our bond, I feel that I’m truly with my beloved.

The reason that I write this piece is that I see every day, saturating the world around us, the constant and powerful over-romanticization of love. In our books, films, TV shows, even (and sometimes, especially) on social media!

Going by the metric society around us often portrays, what is love? What are some of the concepts and images that pop into your head?

I know a few of my own: candy hearts, drug store romance novels, and Hallmark Channel-esque love stories of the two polar opposite, diametrically-opposed in terms of values people who fall helplessly in love and live happily, ever after with their two and a half kids and family dog, a big house in the suburbs, and never seem to be challenged by big troubles of any kind.

To me, these are not at all reasonable or realistic representations of how romantic relationships of any measurable depth and breadth are, and if you allow these false idols of what love is “supposed to” look like or play out to color or influence your perception of these concepts in the slightest, it WILL inevitably doom any romance you’re in and dash any reasonable hope of one in the future.

Now, I know exactly what you’re thinking…

“Well, darn, what is love, Alayna, if not completely identical to this hollow and ultimately soulless manufactured product specifically designed to inspire delusions of grandeur and attempts of self-insertion in the willing and naïve consumer so that they hopefully stay engaged deeply and well enough to keep paying for them? And, what’s the problem of keeping my hopes up for that perfect special person and relationship, anyways? Can’t a [man/woman/it?] dream?”

All right, all right, I hear you, I hear you! Calm down!

Now, to begin to answer that amazing and eloquently stated question, here’s a couple truth bombs for ya: There exists no perfect person nor relationship—And whom does this huge revelation surprise, exactly? Not a soul.

And, yet, every single day, in person and in the media, I see the same vicious cycle repeated, over and over again. I hear the sorority girl sobbing or ranting to her friend on the bus about how her boyfriend gave her a one-word response with a period in his text message (Oh, no, the dreaded period! The absolute horror!) and how this must mean that he’s no longer “into her” and that he’s most likely cheating, the guy silently (but visibly) heartbroken when his girlfriend chose to skip out on a date to hang out with her girl friends for the third time in a row, the couple on reality TV that seems completely shaken by the slightest of complications.

So, with that said, what exactly is love?

Well, according to St. Paul’s letter to the Corinthians, love is patient, kind, refrains from envy, humble, slow to anger, despises evil and celebrates truth, is protective, trusting, hopeful, keeps no record of wrongs, and always perseveres (1 Corinthians 13:4-7).

In a lot of ways, this definition is pretty simplistic and straight-forward, but if it is, how come it’s so darn hard to live out?

Answer: Because humans tend to be stupid, lazy, selfish, and petty, and when you’re dealing with two of those…Well, things get pretty complicated.

The good news is, though, is that when you’re able to avoid these instincts, this resulting application of love in a romantic relationship is a truly beautiful and blessed thing, and, speaking from experience, there is nothing in the world that will ever compare. It will supplement the joy and fulfillment already inherent in being a child of God and make life sweet and blissful beyond your wildest dreams.

That being said, I don’t know if y’all know this already, but relationships are HARD. With as much tear-jerking laughter, shameless flirtation, and tender moments I share with my sweet beloved, when I swear I can almost physically feel him with me, there is also tons of awkwardness (at least, in the beginning), stress, miscommunication, uncertainty, and faux pas, in general, to go around.

The key I’ve found to truly unlocking this God-given gift of a successful and loving marital vocation is to do a deep examination of oneself and try your best to discover aspects of and flaws in your personality/mentality that may hinder your ability to love in a way that adheres more closely to the biblical definition of love and honors both God and your beloved.

For instance, I know that I sometimes struggle to speak up and ask for what I want and need, and that’s something I definitely need to learn to curb, as it again, puts the pressure on my beloved to somehow read my mind. Fortunately, however, as both of us learn and grow, we’ve always seemed able to stay in sync with one another, despite some extremely stressful circumstances that have popped up from time to time.

If you, too, struggle with this specific issue in your relationship, realize that, no matter how kind or conscientious they may be, they absolutely cannot read your mind. If there are any concerns or conflicts, no matter how minor or moot they seem, they must be appropriately and lovingly communicated, and if time after time, conflicts, minor or major, cannot be resolved to the other’s selfishness or immaturity, this is not the relationship for you.

Others, I know, struggle more with short tempers, tendencies to hold grudges, or struggle with jealousy or cowardice—One of these may be your proverbial cross to bear, but I’ve also learned that all of these, even the more severe cases, can be overcome with time, tenacity, humility, prayer, professional help (if necessary), and patience, mostly on the part of your SO.

So, ultimately, what should you glean from what I’ve written here about that awesome yet curious four-letter word that we all seem to want for so badly in this life?

More than anything, I would hope, at least, that you treat love as not so much a feeling as it is a commitment—A commitment to always work through each of your flaws both individually and as a couple so that you not only bring joy and love to yourselves, but to build up and be an example for your community, and to be effective and loving parents and role models to your children in this respect so that you may glorify God. The truth of the matter is any relationship you initiate with anyone, especially of the romantic/marital variety, does not exist in a vacuum and is not solely dependent on your ever-changing attitudes or drive for instant gratification (whether of the sexual or wrathful nature). There will inevitably be times in your relationship where you’re truly vexed, beyond exasperated, or hopeless with the state of your relationship, either for interior or exterior reasons, to the point that the two of you may actually require outside, professional help to sort things out. In the end, however, love is the decision to always persevere and to fight, hand in hand.

I will conclude with the eternal words of Fyodor Dostoevsky, who had this to say on the matter in his final novel, The Brothers Karamazov:

“I am sorry I can say nothing more consoling to you, for love in action is a harsh and dreadful thing compared with love in dreams. Love in dreams is greedy for immediate action, rapidly performed and in the sight of all. Men will even give their lives if only the ordeal does not last long but is soon over, with all looking on and applauding as though on the stage. But active love is labour and fortitude, and for some people too, perhaps, a complete science. But I predict that just when you see with horror that in spite of all your efforts you are getting farther from your goal instead of nearer to it — at that very moment I predict that you will reach it and behold clearly the miraculous power of the Lord who has been all the time loving and mysteriously guiding you.”

And, with that, God bless you all, and I hope you have a wonderful Tuesday afternoon!

With love, your Internet pal,

Alayna ☩ 💐

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{Original article}

[viduamor-moved]

sb: it doesn’t make sense that natasha would have romantic leanings toward men! she’s le/sbian or bi with leanings toward women! me:

[blackandwhitemusician]

Some of my favourite quotes from Fyodor Dostoevsky’s “Crime and Punishment”

“Hm… yes, all is in a man’s hands and he lets it all slip from cowardice, that’s an axiom. It would be interesting to know what it is men are most afraid of. Taking a new step, uttering a new word is what they fear most…”

----------------------

“And what if I am wrong? What if man is not really a scoundrel - man in general, I mean, the whole race of mankind - then all the rest is prejudice, simply artificial terrors and there are no barriers and it’s all as it should be.”

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“Do you understand, sir? Do you understand what it means when you have absolutely nowhere to turn?”

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“At first - long before indeed - he had been much occupied with one question: why almost all crimes are so badly concealed and so easily detected, and why almost all criminals leave such obvious traces? He had come gradually to many different and curious conclusions, and in his opinion the chief reason lay not so much in the material impossibility of concealing the crime as in the criminal himself. Almost every criminal is subject to a failure of will and reasoning power by a childish and phenomenal heedlessness at the very instant when prudence and caution are most essential.”

----------------------

“The first category, generally speaking, are men conservative in temperament and law-abiding; they live under control and love to be controlled. To my thinking it is their duty to be controlled, because that’s their vocation, and there is nothing humiliating in it for them. The second category all transgress the law; they are destroyers or disposed to destruction according to their capacities. The crimes of these men are of course relative and varied; for the most part they seek in very varied ways the destruction of the present for the sake of the better. But if such a one is forced for the sake of his idea to step over a corpse or wade through blood, he can, I maintain, find himself, in his conscience, a sanction for wading through blood.”

----------------------

“The vast mass of mankind is mere material, and only exists in order by some great effort, by some mysterious process, by means of some crossing of races and stocks, to bring into the world at last perhaps one man out of a thousand with a spark of independence.”

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“If he has a conscience he will suffer for his mistake. That will be punishment - as well as the prison.”

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“Pain and suffering are always inevitable for a large intelligence and a deep heart. The really great men must, I think, have great sadness on earth.”

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“The question is, am I a monster, or am I myself a victim?”

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“Reason is the slave of passion.”

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“Anyone who is greatly daring is right in their eyes.”

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“He who despises most things will be a lawgiver among them and he who dares most of all will be most in the right.”

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“There is only one thing, one thing needful: one has only to dare! Then for the first time in my life an idea took shape in my mind which no one had ever thought of before me, no one! I saw clear as daylight how strange it is that not a single person living in this mad world has had the daring to go straight for it all and send it flying to the devil! I… I wanted to have the daring… and I killed her.”

----------------------

“Was it right, was it right, all this?”

----------------------

“Do I love her? No, no, I drove her away just now like a dog. Did I want her cross? Oh, how low I’ve sunk! No, I wanted her tears, I wanted to see her terror, to see how her heart ached! I had to have something to cling to, something to delay me, some friendly face to see! And I dared to believe in myself, to dream of what I would do! I am a beggarly contemptible wretch, contemptible!”

----------------------

“What had he to live for? What had he to look forward to? Why should he strive? To live in order to exist?”

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“Why, he had been ready a thousand times before to give up existence for the sake of an idea, for a hope, even for a fancy. Mere existence had always been too little for him; he had always wanted more.”

----------------------

“Tears and agonies would at least have been life. But he did not repent of his crime.”

----------------------

“What surprised him most of all was the terrible impassable gulf that lay between him and all the rest. They seemed to be a different species, and he looked at them and they at him with distrust and hostility. He felt and knew the reasons of his isolation, but he would never have admitted till then that those reasons were so deep and strong.”

----------------------

“Can her convictions not be mine now? Her feelings, her aspirations, at least…”

[wondermagz]

                                     The Crime of Epilogues

                                                              By

                                                     Colleen Beebe

IMAGINE THIS. You’re watching a delightful movie about young love. You have fallen in love with the characters and have been rooting for the inevitable union from the beginning. You come to the end scene – the girl walks down the aisle in white. You’re heart swells, tears form in your eyes.

WHAM!

Out of nowhere, a scene begins with the same girl shouting at her 3-year-old son “ Issac if you don’t get off the potty right now, I’m gonna come up there and smack you!” All the while holding a kleenex to her 5-year-old’s nose. “Are you ever gonna learn how to blow your own nose?” She says, looking down at the thunderstruck child.

Her husband, now sporting a round beer belly, stares at her disheveled appearance with a lost look that resembles how you, the viewers, feel: How the heck did we get here?

This is an epilogue.

Now, there are two types of people in this world. Those who somehow find delight in having the completion of their story disrupted by random facts about the future and those who appreciate that a story has a proper time and place to end. I am the latter. I have caused much controversy in my literary circles about my opinion, but I think it is time to take a stance against this nuisance to society. No longer will I stand to have my books ended with epilogues that destroy the integrity of the entire story. So I will make my case against the dreaded epilogue and ask you to join me in my mission to end this unfortunate literary mishap.

Merriam- Webster defines an epilogue as “a concluding section that rounds out the design of a literary work.” I would add that this section ATTEMPTS to round out a literary work. There are few occasions where it actually does. (Alright people, Brideshead Revisited is an exception so don’t stone me over that one, but every rule has an exception.) There are three reasons to despise the dastardly epilogue.

They add to a story which has already ended, disrupting the peace of that ending and oftentimes changing the entire meaning of the beloved story.

They often are artificially tacked onto the end of a story to give the reader a little more taste of the story like fan fiction for the nerdy soul.

They allude to a sequel that will never come.

Let sleeping dogs lie and let the end of a story lie where it was. Tell a story to its completion and respect the reader enough so that at the end of the book you give them closure. Let him mourn or celebrate the end of a delicious book without the undue stress of future stories and unrelated ideas. For example, Harry Potter while not great literature was a vastly popular series of books which ended with an epilogue. At the end of the story, the heroes stand together having vanquished the villain. This is an altogether peaceful ending. Goodness has been restored and an evil force has been destroyed. What a lovely place to end at rest, Right? No. Instead, we must venture into the future lives of the heroes to see that they have all settled into cheeky office jobs and have had cheeky children who are also all going to go off to have wild adventures. Is this necessary? Absolutely not. It adds no value to the story itself and instead disrupts the ending to plunge us back into another story altogether. Listen authors, if you want it to be part of the story PUT IT IN THE BOOK. Don’t use the word epilogue because you are unable to bridge the gap between plot and ending.

Next, I understand that we all have characters we love and we would love to see more of them, but let’s not get desperate. This recent barrage of epilogues is because we readers want to consume anything that has our favorite characters! But this consumerism is what encourages our favorite authors to behave like fan fiction writers.

We must have standards. When you find out a guy has a gambling problem, you don’t wait around to see if he wins it all back, you leave the casino, perhaps to ponder the man’s eventual fate. No matter how much you love watching gambling, in this analogy,  you still leave when you get wind of his addiction because it is the human thing to do. The same should be said of enjoying the book, or story. When you find out a new novel has an epilogue, get out of there…it’s not gonna end well.  The author is toying with you and trying to get you to look past their bizarre fan fiction feel at the end and label it as good writing. It’s unhealthy and I will not stand for it.

The prime example of this? Mockingjay. Another popular series which ends so dubiously you wonder what the hell the point of slogging through three books of almost four hundred pages, each of which are full to the brim with psychological, physical, and even spiritual torture and suffering, was for. The author takes you one step further into her Nihilistic nightmare in her epilogue. She strips her main character of any virtue, love, or honor, she has left and turns her into a lifeless void. Why? Why do this?

Oh, do you want to know another terrible thing about epilogues? There is nothing worse than getting to the end of an epilogue and realizing that you wanted to know more about the epilogue story than their 5-20 pages gave you. Crime and Punishment comes to mind here. Tell me about Sonia and Raskolnikov. Let me see the Redemption from the Crime. Instead, I read for 3 months about this crazy man, his unstable mental health, his grizzly, nonsensical murder, I memorized 140 different Russian names for 40 characters in order to fully understand the plot and at the end of the story, it’s just misery. A mentally unstable man murdered a terrible old woman and her abused daughter for a paltry sum and is sent to a labor camp for it…. But wait, there is redemption! In the epilogue Sonya (the quintessential whore with a heart of gold that Dostoevsky, if not invented, certainly made into the profound literary trope it is today) follows Raskolnikov to his camp and there they grow in love and virtue and the spiritual wealth from the word of God… but we’re only gonna give you a tiny, little taste of it. DON’T BE SUCH A TEASE, DOSTOEVSKY!

Finally, to those authors who feel so compelled to have an epilogue, I’ll give you two options. Either,

Make the epilogue the last chapter in your book. If it truly is part of the story, then MAKE IT PART OF THE STORY. Or,

If it is it’s own story, then WRITE THAT STORY. Stop being so lazy by only writing 3 pages of a crappy post story. If it’s not good enough to be its own short story, novella, or novel, then don’t bother wasting it on me. Keep it to yourself.

I will not stand for this anymore. I took too many literature quizzes about these dreaded epilogues in my schooldays and now that I’m out in the real world where things make more sequential sense, I’m done with them altogether.

Colleen Beebe is a co-founder of Wonder Magazine. She is a Customer Service Manager at 5 Stones as well as being a writer, a lover of history, and a marketer for Wonder Magazine. She is a proud wife and mother who lives with her family in Sycamore IL.

[makeroomforthejolyghost]

because “the alleged ‘sensitivity’ of neurotic people is matched by their egotism” i enjoy werther’s absolute horror of cranky people, also, since i know i share it. it’s nice when you can watch people do the same stupid shit you do all the time and regard this fondly rather than finding it despicable??? and since he’s a fictional character it’s so easy just to feel sorry for werther, since you can tell he only despises Negative People because he’s trying to leave that phase behind. fiction is a great place to put extra pity! every time i think about the difference between real sensitivity and sentimentality* i’ll get all ready to despise myself for possessing only the Refined Cruelty of the latter and then think “well yeah—refined out of existence.” vicarious self-pity’s a pretty good use for art. not sure what werther’s contempt of cranks means to accomplish in the book, tho?—like, how far goethe stands above that decision. i don’t know that he means to posit this contempt as symptomatic of the unsuccess of werther’s determined optimism; i just hope he does, because w/out that i can’t like his advice.

*see the above-cited proust line, ha. proust is excellent on this subject (esp. in volume 5) but since 2015 the guy who really haunts my ass about it is nabokov, for what he said about dostoevsky’s obsession with murder. nabokov is ableist as hell on dostoevsky. uuuuunfortunately however, instead of enabling me to dismiss his opinion, the accusation dostoevsky was too neurotic for his observations about human nature to mean anything for normal people just makes it more distressing for me to know that the rest of the time nabokov’s right about him. i wish that was impossible!