i'm sorry "if i didn't have this ring, i would never have met you" is SUCH an insane thing for jane to say before giving lisbon his wedding ring from his previous marriage. i don't think jane's the type to 'what if.' he doesn't look at the past and wonder if things would've been different if he made different choices; he accepts and hates himself for his choices, but he isn't unproductive about it in that way. i truly believe it has never crossed his mind to wonder angela or lisbon, because that's a quandary that would never exist. red john/revenge or lisbon? definitely. but i don't think he compares his two wives in any serious way, even just in his head. so the wedding ring is not just about angela. it represents his quest for revenge and the hold it has on him as something that kept him going when nothing else could.
what he had to go through... the pain and suffering and trauma that will one hundred percent continue to affect him for the rest of his life... we, as viewers, witnessed it. lisbon witnessed it. jane's tragic past is unique among tragic pasts because it's vile and shocking and anyone who has a child could hardly think of even surviving it. it's somehow both completely relatable and unimaginable at the same time. so for jane to sit there and say i'm grateful for that pain, i'm grateful this ring kept me alive and got me out of the mental hospital, because i met you... it's unspeakably precious. because i bet lisbon thinks the ring forged a path to red john. and maybe it started that way, but it ended up clearing jane's path to lisbon, even if it took him red john's death and two years on a beach to see it. and i love that he can verbally set red john to the side like this, because it lessens the power he still has on jane beyond the grave and jane and lisbon deserve to go into their future with one less ghost between them.
Fan Changyu nodded, but Xie Zheng didn’t leave. Instead, he knelt in front of the bed, took both her hands, and kissed them. With a very serious expression, he said, “Letting you be with me like this, I’ve truly wronged you. When everything settles down, I’ll give you a grand wedding unparalleled in the world.”
Whether it was because Fan Changyu was carefree or because she no longer cared so much about worldly etiquette after experiencing so much, she wasn’t that concerned about these promises Xie Zheng made to her.
But when he spoke to her so solemnly, it was as if a small pebble had been thrown into the lake of her heart, causing ripples to spread.
This feeling of being cherished and loved made her feel that even if the road ahead was treacherous, she would fearlessly walk it together with the man before her.
Chasing Jade
I love this! She's got so much evidence now that he'll never leave her, so who cares that they were forced to have sex multiple times because of aphrodisiac poison?
(I'm convinced the poison wore off after the first encounter and then he just kept going for fun)
(The author may have written that they only had sex twice before they married like a year later but I do not believe. There was at least hand stuff. This guy is too horny to survive that long)
CWs: BBU, pet whump, hidden injuries, mention of death threats, low self-esteem, caretaker new whumper, collar, conditioned whumpee
Neko wakes up slowly.
At first she's not sure where she is. The bed doesn't feel right, the grinding noise, it's not quite dark, sunlight filtering in through the nearly-closed shutters. She has a duvet and a blanket, and she’s so warm. Even her leg feels better than usual.
Then she remembers. Mr Josh. No, Master Josh now. Santa’s Grotto.
Home.
She slides out of the bed and pads over to the door. The movement is, in fact, just Master Josh.
She just watches for a moment, hardly able to believe her luck. He adopted her, took her home, and she really wasn't expecting that, and he lent her some of his clothes because the shops were all shut for Christmas by the time they got out, and he let her have a warm shower and food and now he’s just letting her sleep. He’s not even complained about her leg once.
She thought she was going to die. But instead… this.
She pinches herself. Ow. Not a dream.
She pushes the door open a crack and slips out.
Master Josh turns, eyes lighting up. “Neko! Happy Christmas! You look way less tired than yesterday. Did I wake you?”
“No, sir.”
“Good. It's just Josh though, remember?”
“Yes, s– Josh.”
He grins. “That’s better. I’m about to make special Christmas Day breakfast. Pancakes. Do you like pancakes?”
“I don't remember eating them, Josh, but I would like to try them.” Her new owner likes them, after all, and he has good taste.
“Great! Why don't you rummage around in my wardrobe for something comfortable and then have a shower?”
Neko’s eyes widen. Another one? She's allowed more?
“Warm, Josh?”
“Yes, warm. Of course. As much as you like.”
The thing is, anyone else she wouldn't believe. But she's just spent six weeks around Master Josh, and despite how irritated or impatient he sometimes got with the situation, he never once hurt her. He even said that was bad. So she decides, despite all available evidence of what people are like, to believe him. Just this once.
“Yes, sir. Josh. Sorry, Josh.”
“Hey, no worries. I don't mind if you make mistakes. We all do it.”
“Um. Yes, Josh.”
She grabs her stick from the doorway and limps off towards Master Josh's bedroom. Nobody ever wants, would ever want, a Domestic who has epilepsy and who’s slow and basically one-handed half the time, but Master Josh does. Master Josh does.
He won't continue to be this kind to her now he owns her. He can't. She can't let herself believe that. Maybe she should stop talking so much, stop asking for things. Master Josh liked that he had a coworker he could talk to but she isn't that anymore, and no-one likes a Domestic who talks. She can't lose this.
What should she do? How should she act? How will she be punished? She doesn't know, she doesn't know any of it. All she knows is that she needs a shower.
She pads into Master Josh's room and picks the softest, warmest top and trousers out of his wardrobe. It feels wrong, just taking his clothes like this, a person's clothes, her master’s, but she tries to tell herself that he ordered her to, and if he'll punish her for orders it's best she finds out now. She doesn't think he will but he could act very differently now.
Her heart continues in its attempts to pound its way out of her chest.
She heads to the bathroom and stands in front of the mirror, staring at herself. Pets don't get privacy or vanity or space but here she is being given all three.
She rubs the hard skin on the side of her neck, where her collar sat permanently until yesterday.
“I need to check the law but I think you'll need to wear it outside, but while we're home you can keep it off, if it's more comfortable?”
She's safe while she's wearing a collar, it feels wrong not to be wearing it, like she's done something wrong and she's going to be badly punished. But Master Josh… Master Josh wanted it off for her to be comfortable so it's okay? Probably? She doesn't know, she doesn't know, she just wishes her heart would stop pounding. Either she'll be punished or she won't, and that's the end of it.
Should be the end of it.
She shakes herself and pulls off the old t-shirt Master Josh lent her for the night. It's big and baggy like a night shirt, with a faded octopus print on the front.
Her side is mostly a sickly yellow-green now, but some parts are still mottled red and purple and blue, the beating standing out horribly against her pale skin.
Master Josh knows about the caning on her bottom but she doesn't think… she doesn't think he knows about this. She's good at hiding things.
Maybe she shouldn't have let herself wind up the handlers so much. But she was so sure it was going to be the last six weeks of her life. What was the point in holding back? Why refuse to sit down with Josh for lunch when she'd never get that chance again, even knowing what it would bring?
But everything hurts so very much now. And she's going to have to live with that.
She hopes so, anyway. What if Master Josh decides he actually doesn't want her? What if she isn't useful enough, if she's too much of a burden? What if—
Anything could happen.
Then she'd better make the most of the time she has.
She steps into the shower and turns on the water, letting the spray pound her upturned face. It feels so good, and then it's warm, too. The water massages her tense muscles, her back, her neck, her shoulders, and after a night here her leg is good enough to stand on without a cane so she just… does. It aches a little, but it's much better than usual.
It won't last. But it hasn't been this good for years.
She lifts the showerhead down, supporting it carefully, and aims the powerful stream of water at her thigh. Oh, it feels so good. The pounding makes it ache but a good ache, a good thrum, it hasn't felt this good since before it was broken.
No. She can't— Master Josh can't see her cry. He's been so good to her. Pets don't cry.
She does, but she's not a good pet. And that hasn't mattered in a long time because nobody wants her anyway but Master Josh does, Master Josh does, so—
She lets the water wash away her tears.
Eventually her leg feels like it's going to collapse and she steps out of the shower, sitting down heavily on the toilet lid. She needs to dress, get back, but she can't summon up the energy.
This place feels like something out of a dream. A dream she'll soon wake from.
Shaking her head, she pulls her clothes to herself across the bathroom floor and dresses carefully. She might be a bad pet but she can at least obey Master Josh.
Whatever Master Josh is making (the pancakes?), it smells very good, and her mouth waters. Will she be allowed to have any?
She dries her hands and the water that's made it onto her cane thoroughly (and the floor, can't forget the floor) and pads out. Josh turns from the stove and grins when he sees her.
“Feeling better?”
“Yes, Josh.”
“Good. I'm glad. Sit down, Christmas pancakes coming right up!”
Neko sits down at the table, where Master Josh told her to sit yesterday, still a little hesitant and uneasy. This isn't where pets sit. She can feel her scars ache already.
But Master Josh… Master Josh wouldn't do that anyway, even if she was behaving badly. Would he?
She watches as Master Josh flips a pancake. There's already a few on a plate beside him. On the table in front of her is a bottle of maple syrup, a bottle of lemon juice, some… sugar, and a bowl of banana slices.
What happens with these then? And what's happened to her life?
There's several typed, highlighted, scribbled sheets of paper pushed into a rough pile at one end of the table. She wonders what they are.
“Ta-da! Breakfast is served!”
She snaps her gaze back to Master Josh. She shouldn't be wondering about his things that he hasn't given her permission to, that's not allowed, and it's giving her a headache anyway.
“Sorry, Josh.”
Josh sets a plate of pancakes in the centre of the table and an empty one in front of her. “Nah, it's okay, we’re all curious about things. Lemon and sugar or banana and maple syrup first?”
“Banana and maple syrup, please, sir?” she asks hopefully. She loves fresh fruit but she doesn't get it very often.
“Cool. Copy me.”
Neko nods, watching carefully as Master Josh scoops a pancake onto his plate. He spoons some banana slices on top and then dribbles maple syrup over the whole thing.
“You can use as much as you like.”
She copies him carefully. The pancake falls apart slightly as she rolls it up but Josh just smiles, not berating her for the mess.
“It's fine. Pancakes are tricky, and I'm not bothered by the presentation of your own food. So, what were you curious about? I'm not angry, I promise.”
“The papers, Josh.”
He perks up. “Oh! Those are audition scripts. Amateur, bit parts, I have a couple of auditions coming up. Would you like to help me practice for them? You can read the part in the scene that I'm not auditioning for. It's kind of hard to practice on my own.”
Neko winces. Oh. Oh no. He doesn't know, does he? He's going to be so disappointed in her. And then what?
Still, she has to tell him.
“I– I can't read, Josh.”
“Oh. Would you like me to teach you? Or– my mum might be better at it, she’s a school teacher, we can ask her for some advice later, but would you like to learn anyway?”
Neko nods eagerly. She'd like to learn what Master Josh is learning. He's been so good to her and she'd like to help.
Also, everything has so many letters and words on it and she keeps getting headaches and she just– she really would like to learn, even if it turns out that she isn't allowed to read anyway.
“Okay, sure. We can do that. Provided you eat your pancakes.”
Neko obediently takes a bite. This is a far better Christmas than she was expecting already. But then, it was never going to be a very high bar, was it? Being alive is already exceeding expectations, let alone being alive and treated this well.
She's still alive. She pinches herself surreptitiously on the hand. Ouch. She doesn't think that's something she's ever going to get over.
Sunrise on the Reaping by Suzanne Collins, favourite quotes:
Is Hattie brewing another batch of forgetfulness? [white liquor]
I've only ever been in an automobile a couple of times... Never when I couldn't see out. Never when I was being taken to die. No light, no air. Like they buried me already.
I wash it down with a bottle of water filled with bubbles, which seems like a stupid thing to do to water, since I just burp them all up anyway.
I shut my eyes and try to empty my mind, so there is only warmth, and the murmur of distant voices, and the smell of soup mingled with the light flowery scent of soap. This is all the world is. Nothing more. I must lie like that for a long time, because the water's cool and my fingertips wrinkly when I open my eyes again. I drain the tub and have a good scrub under the shower, cleaning myself of insecticide, the road dirt, and the last traces of Louella's life.
A fragile collection of muscles and bones, a few quarts of blood, wrapped in a paper-thin package of skin. That's all I am. As I pass through the doors of this marble fortress, I have never felt more breakable.
I am so desperate to forget. To escape the grief, the aching loneliness, the loss of those I love. There are no mementos of them, all are burned or buried. I work on forgetting their voices, their faces, their laughs. Even in my head, my language becomes dull and flat, stripped of the color and music of yesterday.
But I can't say I have no future, because I know that every year for my birthday, I will get a new pair of tributes, one girl and one boy, to mentor to their deaths.
