I swear to God, for a second, I thought I’d dragged a ghost out of the ocean. No, not a ghost—something worse. Something more unreal.
She was tangled in the nets, half-submerged, barely breathing. I’d thought it was a dolphin at first. A seal, maybe. But then I saw skin. Arms. A face.
And then a tail. An actual fucking tail!
Pale blue, glimmering like broken moonlight, long and sleek and torn to hell. It looked delicate, like something made of glass and shimmer. Fins extended near the edges, thin and soft like flower petals, twitching weakly with every wave. there was blood stanning the blue water. Hers.
She flinched when I reached toward her. Her whole body jerked like I’d just hit her, and her hand flew up with shaking fingers, like she meant to strike. Or maybe defend herself. I don’t know. She looked terrified.
And holy hell, she looked… like nothing I’d ever seen. Her chest rose and fell in shallow gasps, covered with shells. Actual pearls and mother-of-pearl, shaped like a bra but more ancient, like something from a forgotten world. Her skin was pale, almost silver under the stormlight, soaked and shivering and marked with tiny cuts. Her lips—soft pink, parted like she wanted to say something, anything—but no sound came.
Just those eyes. Those Ocean blue. Too wide for a human. She was staring at me like I was the monster here. Like she couldn’t understand me—but she felt me. Like she was trying to figure out if I’d hurt her.
Hell, I didn’t even know if I’d hurt her already.
Her hair was soaked, sticking to her face in dark, black waves threaded with seaweed and sand. But it was long. Too long. It floated around her like ink. She looked like she didn’t belong to the whole earth at all. Like the sea spat her out by accident and wanted her back.
I crouched low, slow, trying to get closer without scaring her. She whimpered. Not even words. Just a panicked sound, almost a sob.
And then she tried to bite me. No, really—her teeth grazed my wrist as I untangled the net. She didn’t know who I was. What I was doing. Maybe she thought I was going to kill her. Or keep her.
But I didn’t stop. I couldn’t stop. Even if she hated me for it. Even if she thought I was the enemy. Because all I could think was get her out of this.
Her tail twitched weakly when I got the last knot undone. I barely caught her in time—her body slumped forward, head falling against my chest like she had nothing left.
She fainted. Right there in my arms. And I didn’t even know her name. Hell, I didn’t even know what the hell she was.
But I was already carrying her toward the cabin like she belonged there.
Like maybe I’d been waiting for her longer than I realized.
The Hundred Years’ War on Palestine: A History of Settler Colonialism and Resistance, 1917-2017 (book)
The Ethnic Cleansing of Palestine (book)
Nakba Day: What happened in Palestine in 1948? (Article)
The Nakba did not start or end in 1948 (Article)
Donations and charities:
Al-Shabaka
Electronic Intifada
Adalah Justice Project
IMEU Fundraiser
Medical Aid for Palestinians
Palestine Children’s Relief Fund
Addameer
Muslim Aid
Palestine Red Crescent
Gaza Mutual Aid Patreon
Books:
A New Critical Approach to the History of Palestine
The Idea of Israel: A History of Power and Knowledge
Hidden Histories: Palestine and the Eastern Mediterranean
The Balfour Declaration: Empire, the Mandate and Resistance in Palestine
Queer Palestine and the Empire of Critique
From Haven to Conquest: Readings in Zionism and the Palestine Problem until 1948
Captive Revolution - Palestinian Women’s Anti-Colonial Struggle within the Israeli Prison System
Palestine: A Four Thousand Year History
Except for Palestine: The Limits of Progressive Politics
Before Their Diaspora: A Photographic History of The Palestinians 1876-1948
The Battle for Justice in Palestine Paperback
Uncivil Rites: Palestine and the Limits of Academic Freedom
Palestine Rising: How I survived the 1948 Deir Yasin Massacre
The Transformation of Palestine: Essays on the Origin and Development of the Arab-Israeli Conflict
A Land Without a People: Israel, Transfer, and the Palestinians 1949-1996
The Iron Cage: The Story of the Palestinian Struggle for Statehood
A History of Modern Palestine: One Land, Two Peoples
Where Now for Palestine?: The Demise of the Two-State Solution
Terrorist Assemblages - Homonationalism in Queer Times
Militarization and Violence against Women in Conflict Zones in the Middle East
The one-state solution: A breakthrough for peace in the Israeli-Palestinian deadlock
The Persistence of the Palestinian Question: Essays on Zionism and the Palestinians
Fateful Triangle: The United States, Israel and the Palestinians
The False Prophets of Peace: Liberal Zionism and the Struggle for Palestine
Ten myths about Israel
Blaming the Victims: Spurious Scholarship and the Palestinian Question
Israel and its Palestinian Citizens - Ethnic Privileges in the Jewish State
Palestinians in Israel: Segregation, Discrimination and Democracy
Greater than the Sum of Our Parts: Feminism, Inter/Nationalism, and Palestine
Palestine Hijacked
Palestinian Culture:
Mountain against the Sea: Essays on Palestinian Society and Culture
Palestinian Costume
Traditional Palestinian Costume: Origins and Evolution
Tatreez & Tea: Embroidery and Storytelling in the Palestinian Diaspora
Embroidering Identities: A Century of Palestinian Clothing (Oriental Institute Museum Publications)
The Palestinian Table (Authentic Palestinian Recipes)
Falastin: A Cookbook
Palestine on a Plate: Memories from My Mother’s Kitchen
Palestinian Social Customs and Traditions
Palestinian Culture before the Nakba
Tatreez & Tea (Website)
The Traditional Clothing of Palestine
The Palestinian thobe: A creative expression of national identity
Embroidering Identities:A Century of Palestinian Clothing
Palestine Traditional Costumes
Palestine Family
Palestinian Costume
Encyclopedia of World Dress and Fashion, v5: Volume 5: Central and Southwest Asia
Tent Work in Palestine: A Record of Discovery and Adventure
Documentaries, Films, and Video Essays:
Jenin, Jenin
Born in Gaza
GAZA
Wedding in Galilee
Omar
5 Broken Cameras
OBAIDA
Indigeneity, Indigenous Liberation, and Settler Colonialism (not entirely about Palestine, but an important watch for indigenous struggles worldwide - including Palestine)
Edward Said - Reflections on Exile and Other Essays
Palestine Remix:
AL NAKBA
Gaza Lives On
Gaza we are coming
Lost cities of Palestine
Stories from the Intifada
Last Shepherds of the Valley
Voices from Gaza
Muhammad Smiry
Najla Shawa
Nour Naim
Wael Al dahdouh
Motaz Azaiza
Ghassan Abu Sitta
Refaat Alareer (murdered by Israel - 12/7/2023. Inna lillahi wa inna ilayhi raji'un)
Plestia Alaqad
Bisan Owda
Ebrahem Ateef
Mohammed Zaanoun
Doaa Mohammad
Hind Khoudary
Palestinian Voices, Organizations, and News
Boycott Divest and Sanction (BDS)
Defense for Children in Palestine
Palestine Legal
Palestine Action
Palestine Action US
United Nations relief and works for Palestinian refugees in the Middle East (UNRWA)
I really wanna write some dark romance for seungcheol, but don't know where to start !? Like I wrote the into, have the idea but barely have time to get the whole story together
It started with a knock. Not the kind that makes you jump, but the kind that rings with urgency, like someone's holding their breath on the other side. You opened your door to find your neighbor, Amal, standing there with eyes that had clearly not seen sleep in days, and in her arms, bundled in a pale pink swaddle, her 5-month-old daughter.
"Hey," she said breathlessly. "My mother was admitted into the ER. I need to go now. There’s no one else I can trust. Could you please—"
"Of course. Leave her with me," you said without a second thought, already reaching out.
You hadn't held a baby in ages, and now here you were, standing in the centre of your apartment with a soft, squirming infant against your chest. Her eyes were big and round like glossy black marbles, blinking slowly as if trying to make sense of you. Her tiny fists flailed, and her mouth trembled. Then came the wail—a high-pitched, determined scream that seemed to declare war on silence.
You panicked. You bounced. You shushed. You gave her the bottle her mother handed you in the diaper bag, you sang softly, walked around in circles, even told her the entire story of how you once got lost in a museum as a kid. Nothing worked.
Then you hummed the opening notes of SEVENTEEN's 'Kidult' like four consecutive times.
She blinked. Then yawned. Then, she sighed and collapsed against your chest like a surrender flag.
You let out a breathless laugh. "That’s what I thought."
That’s when you heard the door open.
“Yo, I brought Thai—”
Mingyu stopped cold in the doorway, holding two takeout bags in one hand and a tray of drinks in the other. His dark hair was tousled from the wind, and he was wearing that oversized hoodie you loved stealing. His eyes locked on you—barefoot, baby on your chest, hair in a messy bun, oversized top stained from a near-diaper explosion.
"Holy shit..” he whispered, like he was staring at a miracle.
You put a finger to your lips. “Shut up. She just fell asleep.”
He tiptoed in, eyes wide, voice hushed. “Is she… yours?”
“NO,” you whisper-hissed. “She’s my neighbour’s. Emergency situation.”
Mingyu lowered the food gently onto the counter and came to crouch beside you. “She’s so tiny. Look at those lashes. And those cheeks.” He reached out a long finger and stroked her hair. She sighed again.
You could feel the warmth of his knee against yours. He glanced up at you. “Are you okay? You look exhausted.”
“I’ve been screaming in silence for half an hour. I think she wins.”
He chuckled. “Let me hold her.”
“She’ll cry.”
“She won’t,” he said confidently, gently transferring the baby into his arms. She shifted, blinked at him, and then wrapped her little fist around his thumb.
His heart visibly exploded. You watched him cradle her like he was born for this, arms steady, voice low and sweet. “You’re really good at that.”
He looked over his shoulder, grinning. “We’d make great parents.”
You threw a burp cloth at his head. “Don’t even start.”
He leaned closer and kissed your temple. “Too late. You, barefoot and holding a baby like it’s your calling? I’m done for.”
Outside, the streetlights glowed orange. Inside, Mingyu was holding a baby with one arm and offering you your drink with the other, like the world had always been this soft.
You didn’t say it out loud, but your heart whispered it anyway. 'Maybe we really would make good parents.'
It started by accident. Mingyu wasn’t even looking for her.
But fate — or whatever cruel god lived for slow-burn torment — made them collide in the worst possible place 'the campus gym locker room'
He was leaving late from practice, towel around his neck, hair damp, hoodie clinging to his back from the post-workout heat. He was already tired, already high-strung from thinking about her. Always her. Every damn day since they last encounter.
He turned the corner — and there she was.
Standing near the lockers in the corner, pulling on her black zip-up hoodie. Damp hair curled down her neck, streaking glitter across her jawline. A black tank top clung to her frame, soaked in sweat and attitude. The curve of her sports bra peeked through, fishnet sleeves torn just right, and black shorts hanging low on her hips. Her eyeliner, still brutal after the workout, framed those feline eyes in the way only war paint could.
She froze and He blinked.
“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” she muttered.
He raised both hands like surrender came easy to him. “It’s co-ed,” he said quickly. “I wasn’t—”
“Save it, perv.”, She shouldered past him, sharp and fast.
But he caught her wrist not tightly. Just a brush not cruel, just enough to stop her.
She snapped around like thunder.
“Don’t touch me unless you want your face rearranged.”
His jaw flexed, eyes dark. “You always this ready to fight?”
She narrowed her gaze, chin tilted in defiance. “Only when I’m cornered by guys with god complexes and fuckboy instincts.”
He didn’t let go.
“Maybe I just want to talk.”
“Maybe I just want you to go choke on your ego.”
And something inside him snapped.
He surged forward, backing her up until her spine met cold metal. The clang of lockers echoed like a challenge. Not rough. Not cruel. Just molten. Desperate.
“Why do you hate me so much?” he growled.
“Because you walk around like every girl’s a game and every stare is a conquest.”
“I never looked at anyone the way I look at you.”
“Yeah?” she hissed. “Then stop looking. I’m not something to chase. I’m not a notch on your belt.”
His eyes flicked down. Her Lips. Her Throat. The tremor in her breathing.
“I know,” he said low. “You’re everything.”
That set her off.
With a growl, she shoved him. Flat palms to his chest. He stumbled back a step, stunned.
“Don’t say that shit to me, Mingyu. Not unless you mean to bleed for it.”
His breath faltered. Then steadied.
“I would.”
The room buzzed. Air vents humming. Static between them.
She stepped forward.
Fingers dragged down his chest, sharp nails through fabric.
“Then kneel, king,” she whispered. “Show me you’re not all bark and bedroom eyes.”
He stood there with eyes wide open in disbelief as she left him on his speechless.
One sharp smirk. One biting look. Then the door swung closed behind her, leaving Mingyu alone with the echo of her perfume and the ache in his chest.
But he followed. He had to, to gain some of his shattered dignity. The second he heard her boots echo down the concrete hallway, he was up and moving.
Outside, she cut through the shadows near the rear quad. Neon lights from the party flickered behind her. She walked fast, hoodie only half-zipped, her skirt swishing around toned legs. She was all venom and velvet — and he was already bleeding for her.
“Why are you following me?” she snapped without turning.
“Because I’m not done,” he called, slowing to keep pace but not crowd her. “And I don’t think you are either.”
She stopped. The turn she gave him could’ve sliced through skin.
“You don’t know a thing about me.”
“I know you bite when you're scared,” he said. “And I know you talk like you want me dead, but your hands were shaking when you touched me.”
She marched up to him. “You think you’re so deep, don’t you?” she hissed, jabbing a finger into his chest. “You think a couple of pretty words and some half-decent acting makes you worth listening to?”
He didn’t flinch. “No. I think I’m not scared of you like everyone else is.”
That did it.
She pushed him. Harder than before. Both palms flat against his chest. “You should be.”
Mingyu stepped in, hands raised but firm. “Why? Because you’ve got claws? Because you spit venom and hide behind it like armor?”
“You don’t know what the hell you’re talking about.”
“I know you’re scared of letting anyone in.”
She laughed—cold, hollow. “And you think you’re going to change that? With what? Your pretty little kneel routine? Go collect another girl, Kim. I’m not the type to give a damn.”
His hand found the edge of her hoodie. Not to pull. Just to anchor himself.
“I don’t want just any girl. I want the one who tells me to choke on my ego and still made my knees buckle.”
“You want a girl who’ll gut you for blinking wrong.”
“I want you.”
Silence.
Then she shoved him again, but this time it lacked venom. A desperate kind of push. She turned away, just for a second.
He grabbed her wrist.
“Let go you disgust me!” she breathed furiously.
“No.”
She turned — slow, furious, cornered and crackling.
“You really want to make bleed for this?” she whispered.
He nodded, gaze steady. “If it means you’ll stop running.”
That was the moment.
She didn’t kiss him. Didn’t touch him.
She leaned close, breath against his lips, voice like velvet smoke.
Summary: mingyus the campus heartthrob and the fuckboy had his reputation with either hook up with most of the girls at the campus or sleeping with the other half, yet not satisfied! Because his eyes are on that one girl, you, the sassy, mean girl with sharp eyeliner and untouchable altitude.
Should I write part two? Part²
°•`~☆°•`~☆°•`~☆
The dorm party was chaos — music thumping through the floors like a heartbeat on caffeine, bodies packed into a too-small living room, the air thick with sweat, cheap beer, and bad choices.
She stood near the exit, back pressed to the wall, red cup in one hand, phone in the other. Black dress smooth like second skin, falling mid-thigh, and slit just high enough to draw breath from the weak. Fishnet tights disappearing into knee-high boots. A choker snug around her throat. Her eyeliner was brutal — wings so sharp they could cut, with a dash of silver glitter dusted on her lids like warpaint.
She didn’t laugh, didn’t smile, just sipped, watched, and judged. And across the room — Mingyu noticed.
Leather jacket half-off, white shirt slightly unbuttoned, chain glinting against his collarbone. He looked like a fallen god from a cologne ad. Hair tousled, lips parted. He had a red solo cup in hand but hadn’t touched it.
His eyes were locked on her.
She flicked a glance up and caught him staring, didn’t blush or smile, just lifted her brow with a deadpan ' Really? '
He grinned like a man with nothing left to lose, and within seconds, he was beside her, all tall presence and swagger, “Didn’t expect to see you here, Hellcat.”
She sipped again, voice bored,“Didn’t expect you to still be chasing girls with full-functioning trauma responses.”
He laughed, hand on the wall beside her head now, eyes searching hers,“You’re sharp tonight.”
“I’m always sharp. You’re just used to dull toys.”
He whistled low, leaned in an inch closer, “You watch me a lot for someone who claims to hate me.”
She turned her head just slightly, lips brushing his ear, “I watch crime documentaries too. Doesn’t mean I want to fuck the serial killer.”
He flinched — but barely.
“That’s unfair. I’m charming.”
“You’re a tall walking sex dream with no sense of boundaries and too many groupie stories for a man your age.”
“Still looking at my mouth.”
“Still full of shit.”
He smirked, and she stepped forward, letting her body brush his chest deliberately. A test. A taunt. His jaw twitched.
“You always this mean to the guys who want you?”
“Only the ones who think they deserve me.”
Silence and static in the air. Her body heat was melting into his now, but her eyes stayed dagger-sharp.
He lifted a hand to touch her cheek slowly and cautiously
She grabbed his wrist at the speed of light. Her nails were long, painted black, digging just slightly into his skin. Her voice was velvet lined with venom, “Touch me, and I swear I’ll break every finger you own, pretty boy.”
Mingyu let out a shaky breath,“You’re hot when you threaten me.”
“And you’re pathetic when you’re horny.”, she smirked.
He grinned wider. “So... always?”
She leaned in. Her breath ghosted over his lips, “You want a girl who moans when you wink and lets you lie to her between classes.”
“No,” he said, voice low, rough,“I want you.”
Her lips curved,“Then burn for it.”
And she turned, walked away — slow, swaying hips, confidence bleeding from every step.
Warning: 18+, explicit language, smut, fingering, masturbation ( almost ), teasing, semi public sex
Tonight was his friend’s dinner party—formal, candlelit, filled with quiet conversations and expensive wine. She wore a soft blush dress that clung to her curves, modest in every way except the way it hugged her hips and dipped just low enough at her chest. Seungcheol hadn’t taken his eyes off her since she walked in.
He’d made her sit beside him at the long mahogany table. His hand rested on her thigh—sweet at first, protective. But the longer the dinner dragged on, the higher it slid.
He leaned in, voice soft against her ear,"You’re not wearing panties, are you?"
She choked on her wine, cheeks flooding with heat, "Cheol!"
He smirked, “Relax, no one knows, baby. Just me and that’s exactly how I like it.”
His fingers moved again,higher, slower.
She squeezed her thighs shut instinctively. He clicked his tongue,"Spread them."
She turned, horrified. "Cheol—there are people—"
“Exactly.”, His tone was low, dangerous yet thrilled.
“Be a good girl for me. Open your legs. Let me touch what’s mine.”
Her hands shook under the tablecloth, but she obeyed.
His fingers slid between her thighs. Found her already soaked. He groaned under his breath. “So wet. Just from this?”
She bit her lip, trying to suppress the whimper rising in her throat.
“Keep smiling,” he whispered. “Or they’ll know.”
He dipped one finger inside her. She flinched, toes curling in her heels.
“You’re so tight, even now.”, He rubbed slow circles over her clit, careful, measured.
Across the table, someone asked a question. She nodded weakly, replying with a faint smile while her voice quivered.
Seungcheol chuckled darkly, "That’s my girl. So polite even when she’s falling apart."
He leaned closer, lips grazing her jaw, “Don’t you dare come until we’re back in the car.”
She whimpered, quietly, barely audible. But he heard it.
He kept going. Slow, relentless. Every drag of his fingers pushing her closer to the edge.
She clutched the tablecloth, legs trembling.
He kissed her cheek and murmured,“Better hold it, baby. Because if you don’t, I’ll take you to the restroom and ruin you in the next stall. Loud.”
Her eyes widened. He pulled his hand back just before dessert and wiped his fingers on a napkin, smug,“You can beg for it later,” he whispered.
By the time dessert was served, her thighs were trembling under the tablecloth.
Seungcheol had stopped touching her—at least physically—but the way his eyes stayed locked on her face, like he was watching for any sign of weakness, made it worse.
She couldn’t take it anymore.
Her chest was tight, breath shallow. She muttered something about the restroom and stood up quickly, heart pounding as she made her way toward the back hallway and didn’t hear his footsteps behind her.
She pushed open the door to the women’s room, nearly stumbling inside, her hands already reaching for the hem of her dress—needing just a second of relief, something, anything.
But before she could even reach the stall—A firm hand grabbed her wrist.
She gasped and spun around. “Cheol—!”
His eyes were dark, unreadable. “Running from me?”
She tried to back away, shaking her head. “I just needed a second, I—”
He stepped forward. “To touch yourself without me?”
“I didn’t mean—just please, let me—”
She moved again, trying to slip around him, but he caught her waist and pinned her back against the wall.
“Cheol, stop—people could walk in—”
“Then you better keep your voice down.”
His body pressed into hers, firm but not forceful.
“You think you can just sneak away, touch what belongs to me, and I’ll let it go?”
Her hands braced against his chest. “I wasn’t thinking—I just needed relief.”
He leaned in closer, lips brushing her ear. “Then beg me.”
She looked up at him, eyes wide and trembling. “No.”
His eyes flickered,“No?”
Her voice wavered. “I don’t want to beg.”
His breath hitched, Then a dark smile curled his lips,“You’re gonna fight me now, baby?”
She turned her head away, heart pounding. “You’re not the boss of me.”
“Oh, but I am,” he growled, and then—he backed off and raised his hands in surrender.
“Alright,” he said, stepping back. “If you want to touch yourself… go ahead.”
She blinked in disbelief,“What?”
“Right now. Here. Against the wall. I won’t lay a finger on you.”
Her throat went dry. “Cheol—”
“You wanted to come without me, right? Then do it. Right now. Make yourself come while I watch.”
Her breath caught. Her knees weakened.
He folded his arms, standing just a step away.
She hesitated, but her hands moved to her dress, lifting it slightly—
He surged forward,“Too slow.”
He pressed her to the mirror, one hand pinning her wrists above her head, the other dragging up her thigh.
“You don’t want to beg? Fine. But you’ll still come my way.”
His fingers slipped between her folds, already drenched, and She whimpered, trying to squirm away.
“No more running,” he growled, kissing her neck, and bit down on her collarbone.
“Next time you fight me, make sure you’re not this wet when you do it.”
He slipped two fingers inside her—rough, fast, unrelenting.
“Now you can come. Right here. Right now. While everyone outside has no idea what I’m doing to you.”
And she did crying out softly, body clenching around his fingers, wrists still pinned as her legs nearly gave out.
He kissed her forehead, “Still think you don’t need to beg?”
She shook her head weakly.
He let her go, adjusted her dress, and whispered against her temple,“Next time, I’ll make you scream it.”
origamiaround
kianamaiart
theartofmadeline
stormborns
