Things that can’t be said
Hi, I’m mentally ill. Here’s a small continuation fic set after 551. I am also bi, so it’s fem!dokjoong. Feel free to imagine their male selves.
Joonghyuk sits on the sidewalk. It’s still early, and the industrial complex remains silent, most of its occupants still asleep. She looks up to a small window in the upper right corner, floor three room five. It was a room she was painfully aware of, one she avoided for the better part of two years. Her hands shake and she grabs her water bottle to steady them.
The person occupying was the one they had all longed to see. Someone worth braving another fucking apocalypse, someone worth causing an unending apocalypse. Despite the odds, their little nebula had succeeded. That’s what they had always done, fight with their backs against the wall unyielding from probability. They created a reality that’s worth living in.
Joonghyuk isn’t happy. She’s not unhappy nor is she regretful. Joonghyuk doesn’t know how she feels. There’s something there, deep down, but her emotions have been dulled from 1864 regressions. That nameless thing sits there like the outer gods and the hounds that chase them, writhing and desperate to grab onto something. Joonghyuk can’t say when they appeared, these feelings she can’t quite suppress. They sit in her bones.
The curtains in the room are closed, but they’ll open around eight. By then, Joonghyuk will be taking Mi Ah to school and helping Namgung Minyoung in her restaurant. It’s been a month since she’s returned from the other reaches of the universe. Time was meaningless there, but the silver streaks in her hair was sign that she was firmly grounded in it nonetheless. That trip did change her. She prefers the day now, feels the seeming insignificance of her stories. Sometimes, she finds Biyoo in her bed, clutching tightly onto her fingers. Joonghyuk wonders who the comfort is really for.
She finishes the water and stretches. Sounds are emerging from the complex and she knows people will start milling about. She needs to go.
“Joonghyuk-ah.”
Joonghyuk stiffens at the hand on her shoulder. That buried feeling sharpens, howling for release. There’s no point in feigning ignorance.
“Kim Dokja.” She gets up and the hand slips through her arm, leading her to a secluded corner. Even in a world without scenarios, her strength far surpasses that of Kimcom’s leader, but she can’t fight against the firm touch.
It’s a tiny grotto Lee Seolhwa had nurtured behind the complex. Little bunches of chrysanthemums, lillies, and surprisingly, sunflowers decorate the ground as weeping willows provide a curtain of privacy. They sit on a stone bench and watch the passerby through the trees.
“Joonghyuk, why have you been avoiding me.” It’s phrased like a question but is a statement, an acknowledgment of the awkwardness. Dokja moves in closer, leaning against Joonghyuk’s shoulder. The tentacles grab at her ribs and it feels like drowning from the inside out.
“You won’t even look at me. What happened?”
“Why don’t you ask the 1%?” She clamps her mouth shut, bending her head to hide beneath her bangs. The hounds are chomping at their bits.
Joonghyuk can see Dokja’s face clearly. The brown-grey eyes widening, eyebrows slightly pinched as her mouth twists in the left corner. It’s one of many looks she’s memorized, one of the only faces still clear in her memories.
“You’ve been avoiding me all month. Han Sooyoung thinks your hiding from me.” Dokja ends with a small laugh. Joonghyuk hand starts to shake as she takes a sharp breath. That feeling has risen into her throat, coats her mouth in a bitter, inky poison that she cannot handle. She stands.
“Joonghyuk-ah, I know your mad—“
“I’m not mad!” Joonghyuk isn’t mad. What she feels is indescribable, it’s the vast darkness of the outer worlds, the bright emptiness of the space between words, it’s the pain of hope taken and dashed in front of her for thousands of years, it’s a fragment masquerading as a whole, it’s the small child lying comatose in room five of the third floor. She finally turns and sees those calculating eyes, the slight paling of skin due to recovery and nerves.
Dokja’s hand is still on her arm, warm, pulse thrumming steadily with life. She looks at Joonghyuk expectantly, like she knows how this would go, how Joonghyuk would react. She always seemed to know, what she thought, how she felt. Those eyes held an answer for every question Joonghyuk has. Does she know what this feeling is? What name to give in order to bind it to the depths of her fragmented soul?
“I’m not mad!” Joonghyuk’s never been one for words, that’s Han Sooyoung. She could describe the indescribable, break it down into digestible words and metaphors that would bring tears to the coldest of hearts, but Joonghyuk isn’t a writer, she’s not a reader, she’s a protagonist.
How can she describe that pain of realizing Dokja had left, again, the pain of looking at that child like some cruel mockery sent to punish her?
Dokja moves in front and carefully traces a finger under her eye. Joonghyuk’s cheeks are warm and she feels wetness traveling down. When did she start crying? What regression did she last shed a tear in?
Those eyes that she imagined in those pages, words she desperately devoured to stay whole, during what she thought was her ▪️▪️They look at her. The certainty that followed her through the 1863rd round. Even deeper lies thus realization, the outcome was already fated. The hounds and outer gods howl as her tears flow in earnest but she can’t let them out. Her chest heaves and her heart feels like it will burst but she will endure. That’s what she does, even in a world with a weakened star stream.
“I can’t undo what’s been done,” two thin arms surround her and her eyes take in the sunflowers through blurry eyes.
“but, I’m sorry. I missed you.”
A mangled scream comes from somewhere. The demons within her cry out in freedom.
If Dokja finds the dead weight leaning on her heavy, she makes no complaint. She just stands there holding the woman who had saved her countless times, again and again, gently patting her hair. In between soul-shattering sobs, she hears:
“I missed you too.”
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large zionist blocklist below
i've compiled a list of all the blogs positively interacting with the @/israel-palestine-bingo blog
there's more info about how the names were complied under the read more, but just to get an idea of how vile the blog is, i just want to quickly mention that the first prize offered in their pinned post, "eight hours of memi mamtera," is the song used in the viral israeli tiktok trend of kidnapping, humiliating, and torturing palestinians in the west bank.
and the "grand prize," which needs no explanation, is "all of palestine! for free!"
some quick info: all the names here have either approvingly replied to, reblogged from, or liked one or more of @/israel-palestine-bingo's posts. for likes, i've only gathered names that appear under their original posts; mostly ones that have not been reblogged, and some with 2-3 reblogs that have not left the immediate sphere of zionists. i've also made sure that these are blogs who have either liked more than one posts from them, or who frequently reblogs from other zionists.
you can also quickly look through the blog yourself (it doesn't have that many posts), or check out any of the names on the list with a quick 'israel' or 'palestine' in the search bar or their blogs.
there are more screenshots at the end of the posts, including ones showing who made the blog (ani-lo-daredevil / katenotbishop), and the bingo board itself (ashenpumpkin).
blocking tip: fastest way to mass block users (on desktop) is to go to settings -> the blog your blocking them from -> scroll all the way down to 'blocked tumblrs,' and then copy-paste the name your blocking
names listed below in alphabetical order
reminder again, block don't engage
2peachy
acleverforgery
ani-lo-daredevil
apollo-enthusiast
ashenpumpkin <- credited for making the bingo board, reblogged/liked almost all of their posts.
aureatecorvid
avi-on-jumblr (main @/clear-what-i-was-seeing)
awstheticshit
bambahalva
bleepiesheepie
bluenorther
blueredfetch
bones-and-crows
britneysmeanshirt
cannibalism-is-my-love-language
captain-navii
casavanse
celepito
chubbybubba
ciitrus--fruitz
coffeelovinggayidiot
da-socks
davos-is-the-one-true-king
dchan87
disregardenedgnostic
elder-millennial-of-zion
faggotry-enjoyer
fdelopera
flowercrownsandfairylights
fluffel677
fluffy-art-moss
george-lucas-is-god
got-chavi
icereader12
illegitimatetenenbaum
inklingm8
its-hila
jewishlivesmatter
just-illegal
karinhasdacookie
katenotbishop <- the main account of the person running the blog. her sideblog is @/ani-lo-daredevil
kelluinox
kingofslush
letaot-ze-magniv
lingonberryjamistakenwhat
lovelyhairedpianist
magic-coffee
marrymepadfoot
marvel-ous-posts
masters-puddle <- pornblog
mixmangosmangoverse
morganas-simp
mossadspydolphin
multifandermissesanakin
nameless370
namiko026
nevleg32
notcrazyiswear
oakstar519
perfectlynormalperson
psychologeek
queerius
randomname3
redvodyanoi
rhysaka
sally006
sbinklebooper
scp-1296
shinekocreator <- commented, 'but is this the 8 hour version?' on a post where someone ''won'' the song used in the tiktok torture videos.
snakelung
sort-of-a-demon
soxiyy
stuffandatherstuff
tearsandice
tedious-waffle
thebejeweledwatercat
the-library-alcove
thirdmagic
thisgingerhasnosoul
timegirl
tolaat-bli-toelet <- the person running the bingo blog. mainblog is @/katenotbishop
transmascpetewentz
tribulation-of-somnolence
unexistencerpg
viktorrotkiv
wanderingmadscientist
whiterose-blackrose
whitesunlars
why5x5
note: @/tolaat-bli-toelet changed her username to @/ani-lo-daredevil (her main is still @/katenotbishop)
and from the same post,
the last post was also reblogged by the creator of the israel-palestine-bingo blog
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