Im In Such Disbelief Right Now And Beyond Disgusted.

i’m in such disbelief right now and beyond disgusted.

i really hope y’all are choosing your morals over kpop; because we do not know these men at all. i will never side with or defend a predator and a criminal, even with little to no proof. even if there is the smallest chance he may be innocent, i will always believe the victim first.

some of you, as fans of the boys for years and him in general, i know you must be feeling disappointed and betrayed. you’re not dumb for previously supporting him, as we couldn’t have possibly known. but now is the time for a reality check and it’s time to wake up and take a step back. this just goes to show that we know absolutely nothing about them.

for sm to just outright put out a statement on their own before any rumors even surfaced and immediately kick him out? this has to be insanely serious and i’m terrified of what he could’ve done. the crazy thing is with everything currently happening in korea with the telegram situation, and korean women constantly being in danger in general because of the men there, i’m not at all surprised that celebrities are being exposed. sm has protected criminals before, and held onto lucas when his scandal came out as well as other artists who have been exposed for similar crimes. i can’t even imagine the severity of the current situation. we’ve seen what happened with the burning sun, and these men are not immune to being misogynistic, vile human beings.

members have already unfollowed him and deleted posts with him in them; his best friend of 17yrs has unfollowed him. the company taking the initiative and him getting kicked out of the group in less than a second before anything even came out, no denying the claims or even trying to defend him. that should be enough to tell you and understand how serious this actually is. i am beyond disgusted with him and this whole situation.

i sincerely hope the victim is doing okay and praying for them to heal and get the justice they deserve. and remember that your love for these celebrities should always be conditional, because we do not know them. it’s their job to put on a show and show you their public persona, but behind closed doors? we don’t know what they’re actually like. we put them on a pedestal and yet we don’t know what they’re really capable of. they are still men after all. i hope the police are taking this seriously. there needs to be consequences and these women need to be protected.

let this be a lesson to all of us. they don’t know us, and we don’t know them, not really, not at all.

ALWAYS choose morals over these strangers you idolize. and as women, we should be standing with the victims.

maybe not all men, but enough of them. and maybe not all men, but somehow always a man. and going forward, i will continue to support nct as a whole with the remaining members. however, keeping the situation in mind, i will be supporting from afar for a little while. if the situation escalates and other members are investigated and new information comes to light about the rest of them either knowing or possibly being involved, it would be best to step away for good. i will do my best to stay updated. but i do hope the rest of the members are doing okay, and hopefully no other members were involved; but this, just shows that they can always surprise us. you never think it’ll be your fave, until it is.

let’s hope this causes a domino effect and more of these people are exposed and charged for the crimes they’re committing.

sending love to anyone who has ever experienced sexual violence or has been targeted and been in a similar situation. it is not your fault and it never was!

love you all and my dms are always open if you need to vent. <3

❗️EDIT: also i wanna add that we need to not praise the rest of the members or any other celebrity for simply unfollowing him on social media. that is the least of anyone’s worries.

we don’t know if they were aware, we don’t know if they knew and were protecting him or turning a blind eye. it could be them trying to save themselves and clear their guilty conscience. maybe they didn’t know and are just as shocked as we are, we don’t know that either.

we blindly trust these people and believe they have good intentions but look at where that can lead to. fans being upset is valid, yes; but remember people with money and power will do whatever it takes to sweep things under the rug and make it go away in order to save face and keep their image and reputation.

oh my god, the fragment of your short story is very cool and your illustration looks beautiful😍😍😍. I'm always extremely happy when I see Slavic mythology somewhere (I'm from Slovakia). I keep my fingers crossed for your work, it will definitely be amazing

ps: I wish you a early recovery

Beloved Husband

Especially for you, the entire story is translated below

[ warnings: character death, violence, progressive madness, depression, mourning ]

Although it had been two springs since her beloved closed his eyes forever, it seemed to her that just a moment ago she was standing at his side in front of the altar in a small wooden church. She was clad that day in her new linen chemise and kaftan, under which stretched her skirt sewn from long, colourful strips, embroidered by her own hands over many nights.

That morning, her mother herself had collected fresh flowers in the field, from which she later wove a beautiful garland of daisies and forget-me-nots for her. The smell of baking cake spread throughout the room as her sisters helped her dress and prepare to leave her family home.

All her belongings, which consisted of several linen shirts and woollen skirts, two kaftans, one winter coat, two pairs of shoes − one for colder days, the other festive, only for church − hair pins, a set of bedding and a holy picture she had received as a gift from her godparents, fit easily into a small wooden chest decorated with painterly ornaments.

Her beloved was beautiful, joyful and kind, his lips curving into a lazy smile at the sight of her, for he had loved her ever since she could remember. He called out to her when she returned from the fair, when she left church with her parents, he made her laugh by looking at her over the fence as she fed her geese, by telling her made-up tales and legends.

He would come to her parents with gifts, wishing them to look upon him with a more favourable eye, as he was poorer than they were − she was the daughter of a respectable farmer, while he was the son of a simple serf peasant apprenticed to a blacksmith.

Although her guardians at first regarded him with disapproval and reserve, they eventually recognised his industriousness, which also brought him a tangible income. He spent days and nights in the forge, creating things that were not only useful and durable, but also beautiful, appreciated by the villagers and the heirs of the manor houses.

Without delay, he came to the aid of his future parents-in-law when the hinges of their doors and shutters began to loosen and fall off. He forged new ones for them, beautifully fitted, with indentations and swirls, which they later showed off to their neighbours. She watched it all from afar, daring to offer him only her warm, happy smile and a gratitude that filled his heart with fervent hope.

− Wait for me, pretty dove − he called out to her then, and she laughed, not even thinking of marrying another.

His approach full of patience and understanding eventually won the hearts of her parents. Her father decided, after some thought, that it was good to have such a swift, hard-working son-in-law, who, in addition, was cordial to the women.

He believed that he would certainly be a good and gentle husband, who would not hit or shout at his daughter, and who would also gladly drink vodka with his father-in-law, and would conduct a conversation well, as his mind was sharp and enlightened.

She knew that she had caught God by the feet when they finally agreed to give him her hand, and she did not hide her joy. She thanked her Lord during every evening prayer for the fact that she did not have to marry a drunkard, a scoundrel, but a kind, handsome, hard-working young man, at the sight of whom she felt warmth melt through her heart.

Not even one spring of their marital happiness had passed when her beloved fainted, having returned from the forge all hot and fiery. He coughed terribly and babbled, only making it home with the help of their neighbour. They laid him on the bed together, wondering what to do. Fear then overtook her and she immediately sent for an herbalist who lived a few huts away.

The woman arrived in the evening and, without saying anything or demanding payment, prepared water over the cooker by throwing dried leaves and herbs into it, muttering something at the same time. After these mysterious procedures, she gave her decoction to her husband, ordering him to drink.

She rejoiced, for the colours returned to his countenance, for life returned to his members, for he recognised her, calling her his pretty dove.

Her heart was filled anew with hope. Lying by his side at night, she prayed fervently, thanking God for his grace.

Only in the morning, when the first rays of the sun woke her up, wanting to attend to her daily chores and prepare his morning meal, did she feel that the body lying next to her was cold and stiff.

She was afraid to look at him, and when she finally did, she saw his face, pale and blue, his lips parted slightly, as if he were in fact still asleep. She tried to wake him, at first with a whisper, then with cries and wails, clamping her fingers over his body, but his eyelids never opened again.

She couldn't name what was happening to her. It seemed to her as if her speech had been completely taken away. Her body was left without strength, her mind became blank, dulled. She lay next to him, looking at his face, holding his cold hand in hers, unable to let go of the thought that the only thing left of him was his body.

She didn't understand what her mother was saying, stroking her cheeks and shoulders as they stood over his grave on the day of his funeral. She stared at the simple wooden cross stuck into the fresh, damp earth, listening to the women wailing and crying raucously around the coffin, chanting mournful hymns that only increased her despondency.

It seemed to her that her mind was foggy and sluggish. She drank, she ate, she did her chores, but she did not feel or experience anything. Her body was as if in a state of prolonged shock. In her mind there was still the conviction that her husband would cross the threshold of their home as he did every evening, that he would take her in his arms, speaking of his longing, that they would sit down to supper together, recounting what the day had brought them.

Her parents, seeing the impact of her bereavement and such a sudden loss, ordered her to return to the family home, which she did. From then on, she helped them with their daily chores, as she had done when she was still a maiden.

She would speak to them and be in their company, but her mind seemed to be out of her body, the emptiness that filled her began to be slowly replaced by a progressive rage and irritation, as she noticed that everyone had begun to forget about him. They laughed and smiled, got drunk and danced as he lay there, deep underground, alone.

Shrill thoughts flashed through her head as she lay alone at night under her quilt. Her heart squeezed with pain at the notion that perhaps the gravedigger had not buried him deep enough and his body would be desecrated by wolves or stray dogs or, God forbid, her poor beloved would wake up in his wooden grave and be unable to get out, driving his nails helplessly into the wooden lid.

She would cry aloud then, burying her face in her hands, holding her thoughts and pains deep inside her, feeling that no one else would understand her suffering, that only he, her dearest, if he were still alive, could comfort her.

It was then that she heard him for the first time since the day he closed his eyes forever: the loud, clear rustling of the grass and the quiet cracking of the branches beneath his feet.

She rose quickly, feeling the aggressive, chest-shattering pounding of her heart. A cold sweat ran down her back as she leaned out uncertainly to look out of the window.

There was no one in the courtyard.

She sat still for a moment, feeling a tightness in her throat at the thought that there was a graveyard beyond the woods overlooking her small room.

The next day she lay down to sleep faster than usual, excusing herself to her family for being unwell, feeling a pleasant tingling in her fingers and excitement at the thought that perhaps her beloved would visit her again, give her some sign, tell her what he needed. No one came, however, and salty tears of regret and disappointment ran down her cheeks as she lay, facing the window, watching the first rays of the sun.

She wandered off to the cemetery in the morning, explaining to her relatives that she wished to place fresh flowers on her late husband's grave. However, when she arrived at the site, she found to her disbelief and dismay that although grass should have grown on the grave long ago, the sand on it was still wet and fresh, as if he had been buried only the day before.

Walking back home along the dirt road, wrapping herself in a warm woollen shawl, she thought of her grandmother's stories. Of how people who had died, called wraiths, rose from their graves to haunt their families, peering down on their children and placing cold, corpse-like kisses on the lips of their wives and husbands.

At this thought she felt heat in her lower abdomen, a pleasant tickling sensation engulfed her fingertips and lips, and she imagined that her beloved had come to her then, that night, wanting to prove to her that he remembered her, that he loved her and could not leave without her.

The realisation that he could wander still in the world without knowing a holy rest both frightened and delighted her at the same time, that their love could be stronger than death, that his desire to stay with her was more important to him than the will of God himself, who had called him to join him.

She stopped and trembled as she heard a loud rustling in the depths of a field filled all around with tall, golden wheat. She lifted herself up on tiptoe, feeling the rumbling of her yearning heart, looking around carefully. Her breathing became raspy and loud, full of excitement.

− My love? − She heard her own trembling, warm voice, sounding as if a mother was calling her child, wanting to give him courage.

However, she saw nothing, nor did she hear any reply.

Nevertheless, the conviction that her husband was still prowling the earth and watching her was growing stronger within her. Candles would suddenly burn out in the rooms she was in, although no one passed by them, doors would open with a loud creak of old wood even though no one was standing behind them. She was awakened at night by a quiet tapping on the windowpanes that kept her awake. She had the impression that she heard someone's footsteps even when there was no one in the room but her.

She whispered to him each time, asking him to appear to her. She would convince him that his cadaverous, pale face would certainly not scare her away, that he still remained her beloved, her only one.

He did not answer.

It seemed to her that she was slowly losing her mind. She was getting thinner and thinner, her face becoming pale, bruises from dozens of sleepless nights surrounding her lifeless eyes. Her parents, worried about her behaviour and the fact that the slightest sound or movement made her flinch as she looked around the rooms, suggested that perhaps it was time to find her a new husband.

− You will have your children, and he too will comfort you with a kind word and a strong embrace of his arms − her mother said. She looked at her dully, feeling that her pale lips trembled parted in disbelief. Cold sweat trickled down her neck, her fingers clenched tightly on the material of her skirt.

That night, she cried aloud with her face pressed into her pillow, calling for her beloved, her kindest, cursing him and begging him to relieve her suffering, to prevent her from being given away to any other man, because they had promised each other that they would be together, now and for eternity.

It was then that she heard him again − the quiet crackling and rustling outside her window, someone's footsteps so clear that her heart leapt into her throat. She pulled herself up from her bed and looked out of the window, pressing her palms against the glass. A pitiful, low sob escaped from her throat as she spotted a male figure disappearing deep into the dark woods.

She got up quickly, putting a warm blanket over herself, and slipped out of her family home in only her nightgown, moving after the mysterious silhouette, wanting to shout for him to stop, fearing, however, that she would startle him. Seeing only the full moon and stars above her, she trudged through the tall shrubs, the needles of the pines and the sharp stones beneath her feet hurting her skin.

She knew that in order to reach the cemetery she had to walk straight ahead, and despite her fear, her heart was filled with courage, because for him, for her beloved, she was willing to do anything.

A loud sigh of relief left her lungs when she finally stood at the border of the forest, seeing clearly the outlines of wooden and iron crosses. She froze completely when she noticed a male figure leaning deeply into one of the grave pits. A broad smile appeared on her face for the first time since fate had separated them.

− My beloved! − She shouted with joy, with hope, with relief, drenched in tears, running towards him with confidence, thinking only of throwing herself into his arms again, of speaking to him again, of hearing his voice again.

My pretty dove.

She stopped halfway, feeling her heart freeze, shivers ran along her spine as the man she was running towards jumped out of the pit like a burned man.

She saw his terrified eyes, he was panting heavily as if he was some wild animal, raising his hands high in the air. She found to her horror that she did not recognise either his face or his figure, looking at him in the moonlight. He was older and taller than her husband, dressed in dark, dirty trousers and coat, his large hands black from the ground.

Only after a moment did she notice a long shovel lying next to his feet, a sack lay immediately next to it, she swallowed with difficulty recognising in its contents something that resembled shimmering gold jewellery in the moonlight.

The stranger moved suddenly towards her, grabbing earlier a shovel lying on the ground. She screamed loudly, throwing herself into flight, understanding her mistake, her stupidity, her naivety. She stumbled several times over tombstones and tree roots, her sore feet seeming to scream with every step she took.

Her voice stuck in her throat when suddenly something dull and hard hit her heavily on the back of her head, then again and again; she fell to the ground, panting heavily. Everything around her seemed to spin, she no longer recognised shapes or where she was, warm liquid ran down her forehead, the metallic taste of blood that had flooded her face melted between her lips.

She wanted to scream for rescue to her beloved, to her parents, but she was unable to get the words out. She cried out loudly and drew in a loud breath, bursting out crying when she felt his large, rough hands clamp down on her bare calves, pulling her back on the ground. Her fingers impulsively dug into the sand and grass, fruitlessly trying to resist him, something akin to a grunt escaped her throat.

My God, have mercy.

She was already completely limp when he threw her into the middle of the grave. No sound left her lips as the heavy, cold sand began to fall on her body. Her empty gaze, from which the life was slowly escaping, was fixed on the bright moon disc spreading over her head.

Before the last breath left her lungs, a thought flashed through her dying mind, from which she smiled gratefully at the stranger who stood high above her like death itself.

I will see him again.

_____

Illustrations and text are created by me. Do not repost.

Loveee the edits where alicent goes “plain featured sons” only to get mogged by jacaerys chalamet after the beat drops

I just saw tiktok with that girl at the gym and she was showing her back muscles and biceps god damn.

i love women so much, can someone please squeeze my hea—

Behold, my wife

ㅤㅤ  i like me better when

⠀⠀ 　 i'm with you 📄　۪ ׄ