metacognition: fei du's peace lily is pieces lily. (1.)

w0 saturday

[personal profile] metacognition 2023-06-18 01:30 am (UTC)(link)
[ whew what a trial

after all of that, fei du can be found innnn the ikea. he's sitting in a chair tucked away a bit, a green jacket slung around his shoulders, and most importantly, there's soft music playing from his phone that's sitting on his lap.

his eyes are closed, but, at least it doesn't look like he's asleep or anything! hello ]
metacognition: fei du won't judge. out loud. (111)

w1 sat

[personal profile] metacognition 2023-06-25 01:23 am (UTC)(link)
[ haha damn remember when we were all just chilling and trauma dumping

wherever d's at in the park, eventually, he's going to have company! more specifically, it's fei du; he's got the lord and master lord yiguo's paws slung over his shoulder and is holding him, because he's knocked the fuck out, spoiled. ]


... D. [ calling out. ] There you are.
metacognition: fei du...is fei du. (185)

w4, sunday

[personal profile] metacognition 2023-07-17 01:58 am (UTC)(link)
[ slides in

hey we're hanging out because of course we are! TWO OF THEM! REUNITED! and as d and fei du are vibing

one of these goddamn pigs shows up! and it shows this! ]


[ you're small - maybe five years old, and you went running around in the garden.

at least, you think that's what happened. this memory is fuzzy and hazy; the man, an enormous black shadow, seems to loom over you and you feel terror clutch at your heart. the man's voice is as soft as silk despite his presence, and he speaks to you from on high.

"Only dogs like to run around and play. Fei Du, are you a little dog?"

you feel a sense of confusion. the man takes your hand and pulls you along - somewhere - somewhere - and then, you remember. there's a puppy. it's tiny, so small it could fit in your tiny, tiny hand. it runs towards you, stumbling and faltering, freshly born, and you gently, hesitantly, hold out your hand. the puppy clumsily reaches, too, standing up on its hind paws and slapping its tiny paws into your hand. it sniffs, snuffles at your cold hand.

you feel warm, and you pet it, gently, with just your fingertip.

the man sighs. his voice, ice cold. "There's unhealthy blood flowing in this child. It must be corrected."

the puppy cries out, a sharp, terrified noise as the man picks it up. and then -

there are cold rings slid onto your fingers. a bundle of threads lead back from the rings and through a complex installation, and up, up to an ice cold ring of iron that's been buckled around your small neck. if the threads slacken a millimeter, then the iron band tightens a centimeter. if the threads go entirely slack, the collar clamps around your throat. your fingers twitch and you can't breathe - you are so tiny, and you can't breathe, and you desperately claw at the strings to try and pull on the threads, try to squeeze your fingers together and stretch out your arm and the band that's choking you, panicking you, loosens. slackens. you inhale, a sharp gasp straight down your windpipe, and start coughing, violently enough to wrack your shoulders.

the man laughs, satisfied. "You have to learn to breathe slowly. Clever. It seems there's no need for anyone to teach you. You've already learned how not to asphyxiate."

--

abruptly, the memory changes.

you're sitting in a chair. still tiny, and - your body is strapped into the chair, held down with clinically tied belts. you can't move anything but your fingers, the metal rings, the threads. you're in so much pain - you must have been on death's doorstep for an hour, now, your entire body ice cold, lightheaded, lungs burning, and throat aching. the metal of the iron ring cuts into your skin.

the man returns holding the very same puppy. this is reality. he places it in your other palm, and asks, soft: "Is it soft?"

the dog sniffs at your hand. it must know how terrified you are, because it immediately struggles to push at your hand, licking at your fingers, nuzzling. the man laughs again, soft, and asks, "Is it cute?

you hesitate, and then, you nod.

wrong answer.

the shackle around your neck tightens - you make a horrifying, rasping gasp as your windpipe is squeezed tighter, tighter by ice cold iron, and you subconsciously start squeezing your fingers together stop the pain stop it i can't breathe i need to breathe i can't breathe

the collar loosens loosens, and air, beautiful air fills your lungs, but in unison, the little dog lets out a mournful, pained cry, and with a start, you realize that your hand has closed in that motion around the dog's tiny, fragile neck. you let go - the threads go slack and the iron clamps and you're choking again and you start struggling and thrashing in the chair and -

your memory goes dark, there.

--

but it happens again.

sometimes it's a bird. sometimes it's a squirrel. sometimes it's a cat. a rabbit. it's an animal and your father places your hand around its neck in those iron rings and chokes you until your survival instinct makes your hand clamp to keep those strings taut so you don't die. once, he says to you, as soft and gentle as a kind father who teaches, when he has you put a tiny hamster in your palm, "What is life? This is life."

he wraps his hand around yours this time, and he squeezes - tighter, tighter, as the animal starts to let out the wails of a dying creature - you thrash against his hand and you can't breathe and you gasp, and the man with a voice like a father wraps his hand tighter around yours so you can't let go. the animal makes no more noises, lungs laminated under the pressure of two hands.

"This is death.

It isn’t at all as serious as in people’s exaggerations. The reason why they exaggerate it is that man is a social animal with very grave inherent weaknesses. On the one hand, he wants to improve his existence with the help of the community and of society. On the other hand, he can hardly control all kinds of bizarre evil urges and desires. Therefore he has to agree on mutually restrictive rules, for example ‘law’ and ‘public policy doctrine.’ The former is a contract with society. To guard against you privately going back on the agreement, there’s also the latter, making a person accept the brainwashing of the community’s values and willingly conform to the behavior of the majority. Having recognized this point, you have escaped the pattern of the majority.
"

you stopped listening halfway through and you start shaking your head, violently, desperately trying to get free, thrashing in the chair, as the animal's heartbeat slows to a stop in your hand. the man with a voice like your father - your father, he keeps talking.

"Do you want to see the truth about life and death again… What are you shaking your head for? Children ought to be modest. You have to repeatedly reinforce the things you’ve learned before they can become your own. Come, we’ll start again—”

--

the memory changes again. time passes, and you are fifteen years old.

after your mother dies, the police are occasionally around the fei estate. one in particular, a messy haired young man named tao ran takes a particular liking to you, and you find you like him too - he's kind, maybe the kindest person you've ever met, and you like him so much better than his partner, the sharp, angry, scowling luo wenzhou who, in your fifteen year old opinion, is an idiot.

tao ran's kindness, being his best quality, means that he rescues a kitten one day. it's tiny, an ugly thing with its head too big for its body and its eyes too big for its face. he can't keep it - he lives with his parents - and maybe fei du should watch over it for a little while. you reluctantly agreed. you feed it and give it water, you make sure it has litter, and you turn a blind eye to it, because you have to, because you've been trained, haven't you? disinterest. dislike. the kitten is an ugly thing that you hate.

the kitten is naturally clingy. it comes to cuddle. if you don't play with it, it screams and whines, throwing tantrums. you hate it, but you don't get rid of it. once, it hooks its claws in your nice pant leg and throws itself on the ground, flopping over and demanding attention - it scratches your leg and makes you bleed. your patience with this creature has snapped, and you stare down it, coldly, deliberating how you're going to give it away, and then you hear the sound of a car in the driveway.

the cold deliberation is gone in a second.

the minute you hear fei chengyu's keys in the door - he's home from a business trip - you grab the kitten. you pull a little too hard on its claws to free them from your leg, and you take it in your hand, and then you squeeze it in your hand and it lets out a weak cry and then you

you open a desk drawer, you put the cat in, and you shut the drawer, and then you stride out of the study calmly. your father regards you for a moment.

he walks past you, and he sees the cat food you bought, alongside the small food dish and the small litter box. the litter box is freshly cleaned, and there's no cat food in a bowl. fei chengyu turns his head to look at you.

"What pet have you been keeping?" he asks. ]


A cat. [ you say, absentminded. casual. you're barely fifteen and you're deft as you pull on what your father wants to see. ] That busy-body policeman gave it to me.

[ fei chengyu finally turns his head to look at you again, and his face lights up with great interest. you know that face. it makes you sick to your stomach. "The little cop knows how to amuse children. Where's the cat? Let me see it."

you look at him. (hold the mask in place.) and you let out a laugh, a strange, cold, humorless laugh, and then spread out your hands. on your palm, there are few white and orange cat hairs, tinged red with blood. blood on your fingertips, too. ]
Here it is.

[ fei chengyu tilts his head, and then sighs. he calmly lectures you - buy another cat that's about the same and give it back to tao ran, getting closer to the police would be a benefit in the future, wouldn't it? and he doesn't ask. you listen without looking up, and your heart is pounding so hard you feel like you might be sick.

your father accepts it and waves you off to make a call, and when he does, you lift your hand and blow on the cat hairs soundlessly, so they stick to fei chengyu's perfect, flawless, clean suit, and fei chengyu doesn't notice. he leaves, satisfied with your behavior, his favorite work, his heir, and disappears into his office.

when the door shuts you finally exhale - your shoulders collapse and you turn on your heel, unnatural, stiff, and then hurry to the study and shut the door behind you, shaking out your sweaty palms, your shaking hands, and rush to the drawer. you open it, and the kitten stares at you, affronted but otherwise perfectly, perfectly alive. you can't pick it up, but you hold out a fingertip to it, and it nuzzles against your hand, and you're shaking so hard you have to kneel down in front of the drawers.

this is it. it's your first rebellion. your first deception. the first time you ever successfully lied to fei chengyu, because no one on this earth is omnipotent, and even a demon could be tricked by his own self confidence. you've learned. you saved this kitten's life. it's alive, you saved it's life, and now, your eviction of the cat from the apartment isn't disposal, but a rescue mission.

years later, you find yourself standing in luo wenzhou's living room, in your pajamas, and a fat, familiar cat with too big eyes who has grown into his too big head stares at you. he's orange and white and a little black and he puffs up his tail to challenge you - and then skitters away to hide under the couch, and you find yourself marveling a little at how strange life can really be. ]
metacognition: fei du wants justice. (158)

w5 tuesday

[personal profile] metacognition 2023-07-18 02:48 pm (UTC)(link)
[ also because i forgot to do this yesterday

at some point wherever d's hanging out, there's the distinct sound of a car horn that beeps twice from outside. beep beep! ]