' '

𝗪𝗵𝘆 𝗙𝘆𝗼𝗱𝗼𝗿 𝗶𝘀𝗻'𝘁 𝗚𝗼𝗱 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝗱𝗼𝗲𝘀𝗻'𝘁 𝘄𝗮𝗻𝘁 𝘁𝗼 𝗯𝗲 𝗵𝗶𝗺

Fyodor isn't God. He can't be. He, himself, would absolutely detest an idea like that. Even if this thought came up in his head, he would immediately cast it away. Why?

Because Dostoevsky needs someone outside himself he can trust. Someone to whom he can reach out to and get reassurance, when he's confused, scared or hurt.

Fate didn't gift Fyodor loving parents or mentors. But he still longs to be protected, saved. Fyodor wants to believe that there is a Deity out there, who's looking out for him. Even if hundreds of humans want him dead, God will still include him in his plans.

Dostoevsky is painfully self-conscious of how not all-powerful he is. His body has a weak anemic complexion he himself sees as a disadvantage. Fyodor's probably been put through a lot of agonizing pain and pushed to his limits. That's why he is so aware of each of his human weaknesses, whether mental or physical.

Even Fyodor's intellect, the one and only thing he prides himself upon, isn't perfect. He can and does make mistakes. He has spent centuries on a goal that still only about to be fulfilled despite him doing nothing but chasing it.

And what happens when Dostoevsky can't do something? What happens when he messes up?

He turns to his Creator and says that it was a part of His plan. It's a trial. It's all included and aligned in God's mind. And if it's true, no pain or deaths were ever unnecessary. Dostoevsky just did everything as the God said. He can't blame himself.

Therefore, guilt can go away. Fyodor did nothing but follow God's plan. He shouldn't feel any regret.

Dostoevsky's origin story: the first time he didn't die, and the Demon was born

Imagine Fyodor Dostoevsky, young and alone. He is religious. He's faith is his light, he uses it as a compass to navigate through the everyday uncertainty. There are no adults to tell him what's right or wrong. Even if they do, their judgment is tampered with selfish cruelty.

Every so often, Fyodor wonders what makes him so different from other kids. Why is everything that he does is met with cold disdain? Even if he mimics other kids' behavior, adults still see him as a threat. Dostoevsky can't remember doing anything so irreparable that could upset them. But no matter how he tries, the only response to his efforts is disgust.

Maybe, he isn't meant to be loved. At least, right now.

If the family isn't ready to accept him, Fyodor starts looking for the meaning elsewhere. The bible clearly says to honor your parents. But how can he do that if they're so uncaring? Unless this is how it should be, and it's all God's plan.

The older Fyodor grows, the more he forces himself to look past his limited sensations, experiences, feelings. There must be more to the bruises, scars, aches in the stomach, cold sleepless nights. They're all a part of something he has to discover with his mind.

A meaning. He'll grasp it with his bloody fingertips and hold it until they finally feel warm. Until pain in his body will bother him no more.

Eventually, Dostoevsky realizes: it's all part of a trial.

The holy book was right about his parents. He has to respect them for all the efforts they've put in to teach him about pain. They relentlessly test Fyodor's resolve, strengthening his belief in God. They prepare him to become one of his most righteous servants.

This realization helps Dostoevsky cope with everyday struggles. Abuse paired with neglect becomes less painful, when he sees them as a part of a training. They're just shaping him to become better: less attached to his body, no more worried about his earthly life.

When Fyodor finally departs from home, he believes that he knows what God has for him in store. A painful life on earth as a path to Heaven. But still, he sometimes catches himself praying for better days, even knowing, he shouldn't selfishly desire them.

But that's alright. Because Heaven exists. One day, Dostoevsky will be there. He should be grateful for his place in Paradise, the one that's been promised to Fyodor through the suffering God has bestowed.

The only thing is left is to wait for a signal of departure. A moment, when God will call for him, and he'll gladly place his life on the altar.

And then this time comes.

Dostoevsky never forced himself to be careful about who or how he confronted. He was almost curious about which sinner would be the one to lead him to the martyrdom.

Fyodor lived from one plan to another, taking a corrupt society apart, making sure no sin would ever be overlooked or forgotten. He even forced himself not to fear skill users. They were demons all the same, albeit their abilities were quite flashy.

Dostoevsky occasionally wondered what would it feel like to have one of their powers? Maybe, he could enact a bigger change. But he tried to erase thoughts like that. His body, even at its weakest, was still made in God's image. He shouldn't wish any changes or distortions upon this form. Unless, he wanted to be cursed and abandoned by God.

Eventually, Dostoevsky picks an opponent who he can't defeat. He knows it, but the fight is still worthy of risk. He tries his hardest, but that's still not enough.

When a dagger is plunged into his heart, Dostoevsky locks eyes with the enemy and realizes: they're terrified. He almost smiles. His body will die, but the words he has said will hunt them forever, until the end of their days.

Fyodor's chest hurts unbearably, but that's a satisfying finale. His body is screaming its goodbye, but his soul feels lighter. Soon, pain won't be able to claw itself into his flesh. He's waited for it for many years. He's prepared. Is it happiness?

Despite that, part of Fyodor wishes he could stay alive longer, so he could continue his servitude to God. It's a sinful thought. If this moment is meant to be his last, he should comply.

There is so much more to a soul than a life on Earth. The endless beauty of light, the vast landscapes of paradise. Fyodor is ready to see them with his own eyes.

There is so much he'll never miss about his existence. All of his emotions: fear, desperation, grief. They're all soon be gone, caged in his dying body, away from his mind. God will take Fyodor's soul back. It will finally experience the touch of its creator. He will never be alone again. Soon Dostoevsky will be engulfed by a warm wave, leading him away from this reality. Fyodor welcomes a warm embrace of God, a being whose love is bigger than the Universe. He is ready to meet him.

But then He doesn't die. He opens his eyes in another person's body. He survived.

Fyodor almost feels relief, and is disgusted with himself for it. Does he really treasure his life more than heaven? Pathetic.

Dostoevsky lives on. He's forced to stay alive. He doesn't know what to think. Everything seems unreal.

A prolonged life. A second chance. For anyone else, this would be wonderful. A blessing. For him, it turns out to be a tragedy. An ultimate rejection.

Throughout his life, Fyodor was told so many times that he was “strange”, “not human”, “not like others”. But God wouldn't abandon him, right? That's what he believed in.

Now, looking at his new, freshly restored body, Fyodor started to wonder: what if he was the one who was wrong all this time? What if God didn't see him as a human at all? Even Judas died. But he could not.

Why couldn't he see heaven after working so hard to get there? Did he do something so terrible, even death couldn't accept him after that?

Dostoevsky spiraled deep into his mind, obsessively dissecting every bit of his identity. Which part of Fyodor was the one that doomed him to hell, to this earthly suffering forever?

There was only one answer. His special ability.

When Fyodor used to envision his path to Heaven, he calculated everything, except for that. He was simply unaware of being a skill user himself.

It was the most distinguishing element of his existence. The one that couldn't be overlooked easily. It was probably what others thought too, even without realizing it consciously.

“Crime and punishment”, this is how Fyodor decided to call that. It was so inherently inhuman it made others fear him, hate him, hurt him. They sensed that something was deeply wrong with him since he was a kid, even without knowing about his special ability.

This is why they pushed Fyodor away, even when he tried to help. This is why no matter how hard he studied the Bible, he was only a mere “Demon” in their eyes.

And they were right.

Dostoevsky's ability was a truly heretical curse. It dared to define God's plan and distort the time of death that was given to Fyodor by his Creator.

"Crime and punishment ". Like a ticking bomb with a set timer, like a festering wound ready to overflow with rot, it was always inside him, all along. It slept inside the body like a parasite. It curled around his heart like a snake, waiting for it's chance to poison his soul and cast him away from heaven.

Maybe, Dostoevsky always knew it too. That nothing he ever did was good. That's why he's so desperately sought God everywhere. As if trying to ask for forgiveness beforehand.

But could God ever give him that?

Fyodor's “gift” was with him since the moment he was born.

Did it mean that Fyodor had been the “worst sinner who ever lived”? Was he marked as such during the very first second of his life?

Yes, it was probably that.

Everything about Fyodor, even his thinking and breathing, was repulsive. It was a crime. A sin. A disgrace, truly. And staying alive was the punishment he didn't dare to define.

And there was the only way out.

If he's already the greatest sinner, he has to become the greatest martyr, the one who'll make a sacrifice like no others.

Maybe, Fyodor will finally earn the God's forgiveness. God will gift him death, the one that'll reunite him with humanity.

But purifying his own soul won't be enough. God won't forgive him for such a small miracle. His life is barely worth anything. It won't change reality, if he just throws it away and allows his body to perish. He needs more than this to make a change.

What if he purifies all sins? If his ability is the one that's made him evil, made him unworthy of forgiveness, he needs to clear world of all special skills.

It's his responsibility.

It's the only way Fyodor can be forgiven for existing.

If he tries hard enough, God will let him go to heaven.

Dostoevsky will die, and then he'll be finally good enough to stay dead. Forever.

Such a tasty quiz! And still how do fruit ppl eat fruits... A the answer is a mystery 😨

FRUIT QUIZ FRUIT QUIZ FRUIT QUIZ

@persimminos fruit quiz!!!!

Tagging @faggylittleleatherboy @prongsfish @ninety-two-bees @sommerregenjuniluft and whoever wants to

Thank you for peeling off one of Nikolai's masks! Your view of what's behind it is wounderful.

I mean Nikolai is "silly" but he is so incredibly intelligent. And I enjoyed seeing framework behind his intentions.

So basically Nikolai tries to remove one of the core aspects of his personality, because he has grown sick of it? I love it!Gogol always craves "newness" and "new highs", so being stuck with "one self" means always getting repetitive outcomes that makes him feel stagnant / numb inside.

And Nikolai's go-to solution is to get rid of "him" bit by bit. Like he tries to review core aspects of his personality (what his "self" is made of) and then destroy them.

It's also based on his self-image, the way Gogol sees himself as. If he views himself as controlling and manipulative person, he will put himself in the position of someone who's "manipulated".

It's almost as if Nikolai punishes himself for his inability to change.

I wounder what's made him feel that he needs to discard his whole "self"? That his "self" is so entirely unfixable he needs to erase it? Maybe, it's something to do with his connections with others or the quality of bonds he used to create?

Nikolai obviously values "friendship" and his ability to experience closeness with another person. Something probably went very wrong in this area of his life, and it made Gogol think that his "self" and every aspect of it is worth nothing.

Maybe, because no one tried to reach out to him, he thought that it would be better of not existing? And than Fyodor came along.

So many questions! I want answers to them all 😤

Comprehending Nikolai Gogol; The True King

Regarding Nikolai' Gogol within Bungo Stray Sogs…

Incoming character analyzation which was inspired by my comments of a quiz on Quotev. Here's something: I may have developed a unique perspective on Nikolai's character.

Nikolai is perceived as a clown through and through. However, one of the biggest points in his personality is his longing for freedom.

For this, we need to define his version of "freedom", because from what I've observed, it's rather unusual.

Nikolai is unique in terms of his dynamic with Fyodor Dostoevsky. Why does he choose to be with Fyodor? What is his purpose in serving Fyodor?

To me, it simply doesn't make sense. Fyodor appears to be restricting Nikolai, as a result of Fyodor's very own ideologies binding him to his restrictive himanity. Nikolai standing by Fyodor, it's hardly freedom.

And, let's not forget that his clown persona is a mask. Similar to Dazai, Nikolai wears a mask to conceal his true self. Thus, we raise the question: What purpose does Nikolai's mask serve?

I believe that the mask conceals something. Like how Dazai has multiple personas to protect his vulnerability, Nikolai wears a mask to protect something.

So here, I've got word, from well, myself.

It hides his intelligence.

Nikolai is an intelligent man, capable of serving Fyodor, known as one of the two Kings of the Chessboard that is Bungo Stray Dogs.

With that being said, understand this: A royal attendant must be able to satisfy the King's needs.

Fyodor requires those who are capable enough to fulfill his tasks, meaning the intelligent. Nikolai is, naturally, capable. From this, we can conclude that he is more than what he lets on, and Fyodor knows this.

Then, it wouldn't be too far-fetched to say that Fyodor keeps Nikolai by his side, in order to control him even better, no?

This hints at Nikolai's true definition of "freedom", and we're almost concluding.

With Nikolai's intelligence, he is clearly aware of Fyodor's blatant attempts to control him. Yet, he continuously abides by the words of Fyodor. Why is this the case?

From my own experience, let me tell you this: When you've been controller for a long, long time, you grow to despise your role.

You wonder when your rule over your chessboard ends, you wish to break free.

Doesn't that sound like Nikolai?

He purposefully plays himself into the hands of Fyodor, letting Fyodor pull his strings as if he was a marionette.

Through this, he doesn't have to work as a manipulator anymore.

He sits back and allows strings to tug him into position, leaving his every move up to Fyodor's control.

And if he is controlled, he no longer needs to control.

Essentially, he breaks away from his control over the chessboard, detaching himself from his mind that only knows to manipulate.

Fyodor is his controller, he escapes through Fyodor. Yet, he's so much more than Fyodor is, logically and emotionally intelligent like a court jester.

In exchange for freedom, Nikolai serves the King.

Am I so wrong, to see that in Nikolai?

Nikolai sees freedom in being controlled by Fyodor.

WHAT THE ACTUALLL FUCK GAMERS

why is fukuchi a fidget spinner?? ALSO I SWEAR TO GOD IF KUNIKIDA DIES I'M DROPPING THIS SHIT

I HOPE YOU'RE HAVING FUN ASAGIRI

The issue I feel I always hit upon with Nikolai is the six months he spent as a secretary.

If he'd joined the DOA suddenly and, within a few weeks to two or three months, decided to kill himself like this and went through with it, that'd be one thing. But he spent at least six months before Sunday Tragedy as Tonan's secretary, doing God-knows what, which is a real sticking point for me.

I mean, really think about it. Nikolai's whole plan seems unhinged, and somewhat mirrors Gogol's death. But Gogol's death was sudden, with almost no time between talking to the priest and taking up his fast. There wasn't time for deliberation or second-guessing.

Nikolai's part in the DOA's plan, though, gave him more than plenty of time to think it through. He had so many nights after coming home from work. He had so many opportunities to leave. Over six months. It completely changes the context of his death. It's impossible for it to have been impulsive, or spur-of-the-moment. It was methodical, intentional, decisively decided upon.

And that's... really bad for me rn. Because it says something very fundamental about his character, that he was able and willing to spend six months as a Japanese secretary to a high-ranking official, and to stick to that plan the entire time (I'm ignoring Nikolai's whole wanting to kill Fyodor thing until I see evidence that it actually furthers his character).

No matter how I look at it, deciding to die in that way had to be an impulsive action, just as Gogol's death was, and yet according to the manga, it couldn't have been an impulsive action, at least not for so long. At first, sure, it could've been impulsive, but Nikolai had more than enough time to think about it and change his mind (and I believe he'd be able to back out regardless of what the DOA wanted, he's resourceful enough).

The only other explanation would be that Fyodor somehow manipulated Nikolai into wanting to the whole time, which... I guess could be said. But that sort of explanation just undermines the entirety of Nikolai's motivation imo.

So, that leaves me between a rock and a hard place. Because I don't want to change Nikolai's character so fundamentally by altering canon, but I also can't explain to myself how he could've gone through with this whole thing, if not on impulse.

The only reason I can think to explain why Nikolai would be a secretary is because Akaky Akakievich was a secretary. And, just like Akaky Akakievich, he dies after appealing to a superior and without his overcoat ("Save me, sir!" and, if you look at the panels where he's in the chainsaw chair, his cape is conspicuously missing). But making that parallel isn't enough justification for why my interpretation of Nikolai would do this. Even if he didn't want to stay behind in Russia while Fyodor went off to Japan to become a terrorist, I don't see why joining in said terrorism would be anything more than one of his frequent flights of fancy.

I'm not ignoring the fact that he wants to be free. I know that's why he does everything. It's the fact that this particular way of going about freedom is absolutely batshit insane and he had enough time as a secretary to reflect and realise that.

It's also just really difficult for me to make that freedom compelling... Gogol wanted to purify himself, and, presumably, that priest he spoke to at least suggested that an extreme fast would help. His morbid fear of death, hypochondria, religious extremism--all of these character traits help contribute to the relatability of his actions, paint a picture as to how he possibly could've ended up there. And we can feel the humanity in his actions. There's something innately human about fear of death and striving for purity.

But Nikolai's freedom... Try as I might, I can't find an angle that finds its roots in humanity. I try to relate him to Kirillov, but Kirillov looks ascance and tells me that their motivations aren't alike at all, which is certainly true. I try to relate him to Gogol, but my issues are mentioned above. In sheer desperation I try to relate him to Akaky Akakievich, but there's nothing there for it. I've even tried Nastasya Fillipovna, and while she was helpful in other ways, nothing could be found for his freedom.

As I understood it, Kirillov's whole thing was "If God doesn't exist, then I must be God, because my existence is the only one I can prove, so I must be God and not remember>death will free my soul and I'll become God again", and since he was going to die anyway, he figured he might as well accept and give his death to Verkhovensky. But it also seemed to me sometimes that he just wanted to die, and was coming up with excuses. Either way, even that sentiment of "if my existence is the only one I can prove, then am I God" is fairly relatable, I think, even if Kirillov as a whole isn't much.

But Nikolai's freedom... He feels that society is a cage, and wants to escape it. Which... sure, it makes sense, especially for an extreme and eccentric personality like him. That he can't ever truly seem to break free of his societal conditioning is relatable. But somehow, torturing eight people to death and sawing himself in half because he's upset that he can't overcome his conditioning somehow isn't all that relatable.

I feel like Gogol's death was, in its own way, a perfect literary conclusion to Gogol life (though very early and I dearly wish he'd lived far longer). It was foreshadowed and fit his personality completely, and as a story is deeply fascinating and moving.

But Nikolai's death... it was sudden and shocking, a bit intriguing, and that's about it. It certainly didn't relate to any deeply human struggles. People do kill themselves often because of societal rules and conditioning (and people's poor reactions to them when they don't fit those rules), but they don't typically methodically plan out violent acts of terrorism. And I don't find domestic terrorists who commit acts of extreme violence to be particularly relatable. Or redeemable.

I want to make it work so badly, but I fear I never will. My Nikolai might be able to do it if it was spur-of-the-moment, with no time to reflect, but as a secretary... Well, actually, it's even worse than that. Not only does he have time to reflect, but living as a secretary again when he hated it so much the first time would also give him insight into how his life was as an actor... Idk, it's just a mess.