say hello to my current wip, making assumptions, aka the fic about chay's truly impressive collection of monsterfucker sex toys. i'm banging my head against my desk as i work on one of the emotional scenes, so here's a ~1k preview of the first chapter because i like validation 😂
The thing about fucking up a lot is that you get really good at identifying the little voice in your head yelling hey moron amongst all the alarm bells. It’s just that, if you’re Kim, the little voice can scream as loud as it likes, but it won’t change the fact that the stupid decision is so often the only decision available.
I, Kim thinks as he picks the lock on Chay’s door, am very bad at lying to myself.
It’s just, Kim is nosy. He doesn’t know how not to be, not with a childhood of secrets that kill and a father who lies more than he cares. So, when Kim had snooped through the family’s finance accounts and happened upon Chay’s bank statements, which showed no activity beyond Papa adding an allowance for months and then abruptly incurred multiple pages of mysterious payments totalling to several thousand baht in less than two weeks, which transactions could only be less obvious if they were plastered in neon DRUGS HERE! signs, well. What was Kim supposed to do?
…Not break into Chay’s room and scour the place for secret drug stashes is the correct answer, but Kim is so far past that now. He doesn’t even know what he’s going to do when he finds the stashes of drugs--probably throw them out, except then he’d have to tell Chay, because people rearranging your rooms and throwing out your stuff behind your back is the worst, and he won’t do that to Chay. But he’s also been trying to respect Chay’s fuck off boundary line, no matter how much it hurts, so Chay’s going to hate him twice as much for this, fuck, he’s really thrown himself into a right pickle this time--
He should turn back now. Before he makes this worse.
Then Kim thinks of Chay collapsed in his own pile of vomit, or passed out with blood dripping from his nose, or pale with a needle still sticking out of his arm, because Kim knows the shit dealers cut their products with, because Papa had wanted him to take over the gritty side of the business, and then Kim’s inside Chay’s rooms without a second’s hesitation.
Chay’s room is a mess. Not the type of mess Kim had liked to drop in on, back when he’d surprise Chay at home and get treated to Chay frantically tidying the place while making half a dozen excuses for why Kim couldn’t come over, despite knowing Kim was watching him clean through the front window, and then finally invite Kim in and pout at him until he did something nice to make up for his bullying. This mess isn’t small piles of debris and laundry and dirty dishes--it’s several unpacked boxes growing dust in a corner, a small hamper of clean clothes infront of an empty closet, a collection of dirty glasses atop a stack of textbooks before the nightstand. If Kim hadn’t known this is Chay’s room, hadn’t secretly triple checked the security of this wing and Chay’s position to it obsessively when Chay had first moved in, he might’ve thought this the room for one of Papa’s infrequent guests. It’s…unsettling, to see a space Chay spends so much time in be so empty of his presence.
…He’s wasting time.
The rooms in this wing are all outfitted with the same basic setup: bed in the middle, oversized nightstand between it and the corner, lamp and chair in another, entrance to a full bath and toilet in the last. Usually, long term guests customize their rooms into anything besides a soulless box, but Chay hasn’t even tacked up so much as a postcard on the wall. The only thing unique is the large wooden chest with a well-loved blanket tossed over it, so that’s where Kim starts. It’s too obvious as a hiding place, and Kim almost wants to scold Chay or give him lessons on how to hide shit he wants to stay hidden, but…it’s the one piece Chay’s chosen in this room. Chay could just grab a backpack and this chest and disappear--anything he wants safe will be in it.
…The chest isn’t even locked, and Kim returns to the urge to go find and grab Chay by his shoulders and shake him until he remembers something about situational awareness, or keeping secrets, or distrusting people, or a lot of other basic caution measures, except Kim’s one of the things Chay’s currently keeping himself safe from, so that definitely won’t do him any favors. Kim settles for closing his eyes and sighing deeply through his nose.
Then he opens the chest to reveal…tentacles. Literally dozens of plastic tentacles.
What?
Kim stares down at the chest full of…plastic octopus legs? Or, at least, the tips of several of them, in all varieties of colors, from coral pink to a deep, shimmery blue. Kim even grabs one that glistens like oil slick when he moves it in the dim sunlight. They all vary in shape too, some are more sleek with just tiny bumps and ridges in different patterns, some with thick bases and thin tips and others with thin bodies and flared heads, others with strangely realistic suckers that yield under his finger tips, and then even more underneath those that look far too strange to be called proper tentacles. Kim pulls out a deep green one with a cute flower at the base and a body that curls aggressively, another that’s mostly straight but has the look of chewed bubble gum, and yet another that’s shorter than the rest but twice as thick and covered in bulging bumps.
It’s not until Kim finally pulls out a toy covered in flared ridges, scales, and other alarming geometry, but also distinctly phallic, does his brain finally accept that all of these are dildos.
Chay…Chay has a chest of sex toys in his room.
Chay has a chest of sex toys in his room.
Chay has a chest of sex toys in his room.
Kim’s brain gives up. His face is too hot for him to think, his ears are ringing with what he’s quite sure is literal steam coming directly off his brain. He keeps pulling out more new toys, unable to stop. There’s one that looks like a tongue, with twice as many veins and a bumpy texture that is much too real for the scraps of his sanity. An alarmingly long and bendy tube with a pretty rainbow gradient and a disturbing number of knobs. A dark blue dildo that seems strangely plain until it lights up with half a dozen glittery rings when he accidentally squeezes the base too hard.
Pretty, Kim thinks, then is so startled by the sound of his own thoughts he misses the sound of the door clicking open behind him.
“Kim?”
Kim actually startles, whacking his knee on the chest of sex toys, and comes face-to-face with Chay.
…While sitting in a half-circle of monster dicks.
Chay’s eyes dart from him, to the toys on the floor, to the chest, and blushes all the way to his ears. “Kim?”
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i think i made a post several months ago like "this is the year i finally finish reading the dark forest" --
right, backing up a bit. i bought the three-body problem (paperback) from the mit coop at the beginning of campus preview weekend 2016 and hauled it around campus everywhere in my silly little blue messenger bag i thought would Finally make me Look Cool[^1], but unfortunately it happened to rain a lot that weekend and my cheap shitty messenger bag was NOT waterproofed so not only did the book get wet and wrinkly and need to be squarshed flat again, the fore-edge is to this day stained with blue dye. but i read it and loved it and then bought the dark forest (paperback) at the coop as my Post-Finals Book Treatsie sometime in freshman year, and proceeded to NOT read it until i'd well and truly forgotten what happened in book 1. at which point i was like "hm i'd better reread three-body problem! guess i'll start that on the plane home"
longtime followers may remember the events of summer 2017, which i shan't recapitulate here; suffice it to say i didn't get a lot of reading done outside of the absolute baseline comfort rereading-every-diana-wynne-jones-book-for-the-twentieth-time, and shortly before my surgery this year i pulled three-body problem off my shelf and realized that 1) there was a bookmark 1/4 of the way through it 2) it was my fucking boarding pass from my may 2017 flight home, which really carbon-dates the last time i touched it. ANYWAY i finished it, went "cool! i will definitely read dark forest immediately!" and then......... read the first fiftyish pages and stopped, leaving it to languish on the pile AGAIN
BUT TODAY I FINISHED READING IT FOR REAL and now i have that good good scifi book hangover where i'm just kind of. staring at the wall thinking about it. might fuck around and blorbify luo ji and/or zhang beihai idk
[^1]: with time i've accepted that i'm never going to look cool, except maybe to a highly specific audience that can appreciate my rare vintage robotics startup t-shirts, and also that this particular bag was definitely not large enough for how bad i always overpack
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