welcome to my little safe haven

hi and welcome to my little sappy corner of the internet 🤍

it’s means the world to me that you’re here, interested in reading what i’m writing. please don’t be a silent reader, all the feedback is what keeps me going

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“Someone will be consoled by looking at your thorns for sure” - Moonchild by RM, 2018

I’ve been sitting these last few days running my hands over the moonchild tattoo that sit on my left wrist.

The constant reminder of how low, how ruined and how broken I was after I survived him.

This year was the first year in over 10 years where I didn’t have an anxiety attack on February 14th, a day where the world celebrate love and I try to forget what he did and how he forever changed me.

I got out - I was lucky.

Since then I swore that I would always believe anyone strong enough, brave enough to talk about the abuse they suffered at the hands of those claiming to love them.

I swore that even if the whole world was against these women and men, that they would at least have me.

Which is why the last few days has caused turmoil within my soul and my heart.

I found BTS not long after that day in February, like many other army I was at my absolute lowest, drowning in life, responsibility and dread of the future. Mostly because of how he had broken me

And on my birthday in 2018, RM released mono, and I cried. It felt like he understood, as if he knew what those years had brought, that I was trying to fight and that I just needed a hand, a gentle push.

I carved moonchild into my wrist, a reminder of where I had been, of how long I had come since then, who I was now because I had been strong enough to survive what he had done to me.

And now I watch him, the man that brought me comfort, who helped me heal, pose with a man that has brought just as much despair, sadness and anxiety into other women’s lives.

It’s a gut punch, one that has taken me days to recover from, and while thinking and reflecting I realized I make excuses for my bias, the same way I did for him after he hit me.

Oh it wasn’t on purpose - he doesn’t know he’s hurting me - he just has a lot of feeling regarding this issue - he hasn’t done something like this before - I’m overreacting - he’ll apologize - he’ll learn from this, I’m sure he will

So now I’m standing here, numb and heartbroken, feeling stupid for believing that some men are in fact different when they tell you they are.

It’s a lesson I thought I had already learned. But here I am, leaning once again that men, especially those who has fame, power and fortune, are a disappointment.

You don’t have to agree with me, but I thank you for listening to my story, and I hope that you’ll be understanding of the decision I have made:

The BTS soulmate series will be on an indefinite hiatus.

I cannot write love stories and idealize men who actively support and endorse an abuser. Because these days all I see when I look at them are the faces of all of those that didn’t believe me, that didn’t protect me, that told me it was my fault or that they didn’t care, those that stayed silent, when I shared my experience.

I don’t know if this is something I’ll ever get over, I don’t know if this means I’ll take down RM’s story and I don’t know if this means I will cover up the tattoo on my wrist.

I hope that they take responsibility, I hope that they apologize, but until then I have no support nor love to give to my original 7

I don’t know why this is something I need to voice, but I read a lot about how ai and how it’s impacting the arts. Especially since BTS have made a collab with Gemini, it has now entered my space, my fandom(s) - therefore my writing is now a part of this conversation.

I feel like it’s important to note that my writing is made without ai, it takes time to find the right inspiration, the right mood, and the right state of mind to get it out. It’s why my updates take time.

I’m not a computer, I can’t spit out a 3k story by just putting my ideas into a short sentences. I could use it for my work, yet I choose not to.

Because these stories, these characters, although based on real people, are characters I feel like I owe something real. Maybe a part of me feel like I owe it to the people they are based on; the people I admire, because they too make art without the use of AI, and that these characters are a reflection of them.

And I hope you as my readers see that.

It’s not always perfect, I myself can lose sense of the plot I had originally planned out, but I also feel like that is what makes it special. What makes it real.

To call my work art, might be a stretch. And yet I feel like something I make with my own imagination and a deep love for all of these communities that I’m a part of, deserves to be recognized in one way or another. Which in the end is why I do this, why I find joy in it.

I would also like to take this moment to thank all of you that are readers of “wo(man)-made-art”. Those of us that writes do it mostly for our own benefit. But in some cases, like my own, we find a community that loves and supports what we do. And keeps this imagination and love for writing alive.

I would not write if it wasn’t for those who started before me. I would not keep writing if it wasn’t for you that read my stories, those that gives me love, feedback and who identify enough with my work to share it.

We were all here before artificial intelligence, the reason why we connect to one another in these stories is because the work is human made for human consumption.

It is beautiful, and maybe I need to retract my previous statement, because you know what? It is art. It might not be commercial, it might not be well known outside our little bubble. But if it has made just one person feel joy, sadness, devotion and/or happiness, maybe art is the only way to describe it.

I know I’m not the only writer out there sitting behind that screen, fearing the day someone comments: “well I could write this in an hour using ai so why wait for your update?” and that is a genuine fear in this climate we as artists live in.

To have spend hours brainstorming, writing notes, writing drafts, deleting and proofreading, just for your work to be called ai is terrifying.

So I want to take the time to thank you, all of my followers, all of those that stumble upon my work, even if you don’t necessarily like my writing style or who I write for, for taking the time to consume these little pieces of my soul, the pieces of the souls of every writers that’s embedded in all that we do.

Thank you for supporting us. Because without you, we would have no impact. And that is what sets us apart from the machines.

Currently brainstorming a social media au because I can’t seem to let seventeen go

sometimes i think about doing a facereveal, other times i think that nothing needs to tie me to this blog, lol

He really said: look at me I’m all grown huh?

Afterparty

✦ pairing: Mingyu x reader

✦ genre: soulmate au, fluff, found family, drinking

✦ word count: 2.8k

✦ trigger warning: mentions of alcohol and edibles (don't do drugs kids)

✦ note: what would my fanfic universe be if it didn't have a Jackson Wang party?

✦ reading order: Hoshi ✦ Jun ✦ Jeonghan ✦ Woozi ✦ Minghao ✦ Dino ✦ Wonwoo ✦ Dokyeom ✦ Seungkwan ✦ The article ✦ Scoups ✦ Joshua ✦ Vernon ✦ Mingyu ✦

When Mingyu woke up on his thirteenth birthday the first place he looked was on his wrist. And to his surprise right there it said: waffles. 

He had furrowed his brows for a second before he laughed. There were a lot of different marks that contained words, what precisely his was, he wouldn’t know straight away. 

Just as he was about to let his arm fall down to his side, he saw the letters disappear, only to be replaced by ‘ommelette’. 

He had quickly grabbed a pillow next to him and buried his head in it as he screamed. He was so excited, but he also knew that this wasn’t going to be easy. 

After a few days he had come to the conclusion that this had to be things that you craved at any given moment. 

Despite it being difficult, and not really giving him any hint of who his other half were, it did still teach him a lot about you. 

When he had met his brothers he had quickly realized that he would most likely be the last one to find his other half. Some of their marks made him thank fate itself for not having it, or curse it from sheer jealousy. 

In the end it turned out that he had been right, that the nagging voice that had always told him he would be the last one, was in fact right. 

i have to many thoughts and even more ideas for my stories on my mind - so I need you guys to help me pick what to do first