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Jessie Drugs James and Is Generally Abusive: Team Rocket Gets Dramatic and Not in the Fun Way (part three of four)

It's becoming apparent that twelve!me was processing some weird things when she wrote this. Nothing as bad as what Jessie, James, and Meowth are going through, but enough that this got committed to paper (that's not all that gets committed in this fic god damn it I hate my thoughts sometimes).

Part one is here.

Part two is here.

Content Warning: First-person mixed points-of-view; abuse mentions; questionable depiction of medical and psychological issues; shaky understanding of mental institutions; possibly uncomfortable thoughts on the nature of relationships; general angst; Jessie uses the r-slur; James uses the r-slur; hinting at a Pokémon/Human romantic relationship; out-of-character behavior for James and Meowth; absolute character assassination of Jessie; Jesus Hades Christ twelve!me tortured James a lot in fic (it's spreading to Meowth)

-O-o-O-o-O-

(Meowth's point of view)

James's alarm went off early. I heard it.

"Why are you up so early?" I whispered.

"Quiet, Meowth. Pretend you're dead," James whispered.

I didn't know why he wanted me to do this at the time, but I did it anyway. I almost went back to sleep. I heard James packing our bags and tents.

"Where are you going?" I heard Jessie ask.

"To bury him," James said.

To bury him?!

I opened my eyes slightly. Jessie had gone back to sleep. James put his backpack on and put my backpack on me. I looked around. Only Jessie's tent was up.

James started running. It started to rain. It was extra cold because we were up so early.

I saw a town. James slowed and then stopped.

"We made it," I heard him say. James fell to his knees. He was obviously very tired from running so early.

James began to cry. "Don't worry, James. Whatever it is, it'll probably work out," I said, trying to comfort him.

"I hope so, Meowth. I hope so."

-O-o-O-

We got into a motel even though it was so early. James and I closed the curtains in our room and locked the door. We got in bed.

"What happened?" I asked.

"Jessie wanted me to poison you," James said. He swallowed, probably at what he was asked to do.

"And?" I asked, trying to sound calm.

"I couldn't and didn't," James said.

That's a relief, I thought. My next thought was: Wait a minute, no that's not!

"James? Did you drink any of the poison?" I asked.

"No. I was thinking about it, but the smell was so vile, I poured it into a hole and buried it," James said.

"What if Jessie finds us?"

"She won't. I'm turning her in to the mental institution."

"But….she's our friend."

"I don't care." James's voice broke. He started to cry quietly.

"Maybe if you turn her into the mental institution, you'll save her from being arrested. So you won't be betraying her," I said.

James smiled warmly at me. It was like the sun came out. "That's so sweet of you, Meowth," he said softly.

"Anything to soothe your pain, James," I said.

(James's point of view)

The day we got into the motel was the day we turned Jessie in.

I'll leave out the horrible details: the fight, the hitting, the scratching, the screaming.

The last I heard from Jessie before they put her in the truck was these words: "I'll get you, James and Meowth! Even if it's the last thing I do!"

Our motel was near the mental institution, so we could visit Jessie easily.

I wasn't sure I wanted to.

This was exactly why I didn't want to fall in love. I knew I'd get hurt. I was stupid for a second to think I wouldn't. If Jessie, who I thought was my best friend, could hurt me so badly, how much damage could a boyfriend do? Especially a boyfriend who might be my other best friend and someone I was ordered to kill? I couldn't fall further in love. I couldn't risk getting hurt again.

As I was thinking this, a feeling of hate and pain was overcoming me. I wanted to hate Jessie for putting me through all of this. I wanted to hate myself for turning her in. I wanted to hate myself for loving who I did.

I remembered a time when I had no reason to hate anyone except for Jessiebelle.

Remembering that time brought tears to my eyes. The tears washed away the hate and healed the pain.

I couldn't hate Jessie and I couldn't hate myself.

Because I was too busy loving Meowth.

(Meowth's point of view)

We waited a long time before we visited Jessie.

James spent a long time in the bathroom, staring at the wall before we visited. When I told him maybe we should go tomorrow, he said he might not have the courage to go the next day.

I still remember the fight Jessie started. I think she almost ripped off her straitjacket.

"What are you bitches doing here?" She practically yelled this.

"We're just making sure you're safe," James said. He was clutching his upper body with both arms.

"I was safe until you turned me in, traitor," Jessie said.

That didn't make any sense.

Next to me, James was trembling. The poor boy looked like he was going to run out of the room.

"I turned you in to save you," James whispered.

"Save me?! From what?"

"Killing yourself."

"How would I kill myself?" Jessie yelled.

"You're….You're unstable," James whispered. He looked at the floor.

"What about you? Fucking crying at the drop of a hat, lying to me about plans. You're the unstable one," Jessie said.

"Stop it!" I yelled suddenly. "Stop picking on James. He brought you here to protect you. He didn't want any of us to die or get arrested. Just lay off him, okay? He protected me and I'm going to protect him. Screw with that, and you know what'll happen."

"What do you know?! You're just a little freak Meowth who doesn't know shit about shit. You're both retards!" Jessie yelled.

"Don't you dare call Meowth a retard!" James yelled. "I don't know what's wrong with you, but you better stop it. We're not risking our lives going back to Team Rocket until you're out of here. Until then, you will not abuse Meowth or me emotionally, mentally, physically, or sexually."

I was surprised at James. He was so meek and he rarely yelled. I didn't expect him to scream like this.

Especially at Jessie.

All Jessie did was roll her eyes and say, "Fuck that. Fuck you too. Both of you. I should've handled the poison myself. Meowth is a retarded waste of flesh and blood."

I burst into tears.

James picked me up and tried to comfort me. He looked at Jessie with a mixture of anger and pain in his eyes.

"How could you hurt him like this?" he whispered. He ran out the door with me.

When we got to our room, James put me down on the bed. He went into the bathroom.

He didn't come out for a long time.

(James's point of view)

I cried for a long time. Why did Jessie hurt us like that? Do all psychopaths do this? I never found the answer. I only found more tears.

That was the worst fight I ever had with Jessie. I guess I'll never get her forgiveness. I shouldn't have even hoped for it.

How could Jessie call Meowth a waste of flesh and blood? He was anything but that. He was my….friend. My other best friend.

I couldn't bear to think about us going further than that. Don't even hope for it.

Meowth knocked on the door. "James, are you all right?"

I looked in the mirror. My eyes were glazed over. My hair was a mess. I had dark circles under my eyes, which were swollen from crying.

"I'm fine," I said.

I walked into the bedroom and collapsed into bed. Meowth put a wet rag on my forehead.

After a while, I fell asleep. I had a horrifyingly realistic dream about Jessie breaking out of her cell. I woke up screaming.

"What's wrong?" Meowth asked.

"I just had the worst nightmare about Jessie breaking out of her cell." I was sobbing quietly. Meowth comforted me. I then spoke three words I never thought I'd say.

"I hate Jessie."

-O-o-O-o-O-

Moral of the story: Don't try to force your best friend to poison their other best friend; you'll get in trouble (and make it double).

Jessie Drugs James and Is Generally Abusive: Jessie Evolves Into a 4chan Poster (part four of four)

I don't even know anymore.

Part one

Part two

Part three

Content Warning: First-person mixed points-of-view; abuse mentions; misunderstanding of medical and psychological issues; shaky understanding of mental institutions and psychopathy; general angst; hinting at a Pokémon/Human romantic relationship; out-of-character behavior for James and Meowth; absolute character assassination of Jessie; Jessie says "kys" to James; Meowth watches James sleep; abrupt ending where the issues are maybe not dealt with properly; Jesus Hades Christ twelve!me tortured James a lot in fic (I don't know why; he was and still is my favorite Pokémon character)

-O-o-O-o-O-

(Meowth's point of view)

James had changed.

I hardly knew him anymore. He was more serious and sad. His eyes had lost their light.

What had happened to the James I used to know? He didn't used to cry all the time. He had no reason to hate anyone or anything. He seemed to be sad all the time after the visit. I found out later it was because he felt he'd betrayed Jessie.

I told James he should try to patch things up with Jessie. He agreed reluctantly.

We went to the mental institution again. James took a shaky breath.

"Are you okay?" I asked.

"I can't do it. I can't face her now," James said quietly.

"Maybe you should sleep on it," I said. "You'll feel better about it when you wake up."

We went back to our room. James took a nap. I thought about how James had changed and watched over him.

After a while, I noticed James was trembling. I took a closer look and saw that he was crying.

"James, why are you crying?" I asked.

"I don't want to hate Jessie anymore. I don't want to love….who I love anymore either," James said quietly.

This was ridiculous. Why was Jessie putting us through all this pain? Especially James. He never did anything to her. He always obeyed her.

I comforted James. He went back to sleep. I felt like I needed to pay James back for all the care he'd given me, although he never asked for anything in return.

But how could I do it so he didn't suspect my feelings for him?

I looked at him. He looked so cute and angelic when he was sleeping. Once, just before I had fallen asleep, he kissed me softly on my charm. He didn't realize it, but I replayed that moment a lot in my head.

I went over to James. He was fast asleep. I kissed him gently on his forehead.

Sweet dreams, Little Jim.

(James's point of view)

The next day, we visited Jessie again. The second visit was worse than the first.

Meowth went in first, alone. We wanted to go in alone because we thought it would be better than last time.

We were dead wrong.

Meowth went in. When he came out, he said, "Your turn."

I got up to go in. I was so nervous, I thought I was going to vomit.

I walked into the room. Jessie was in a straitjacket.

"Why are you here?" she asked.

"Just to see you," I said. I didn't like to see Jessie in a cage.

"You put me in here."

"I did it to help you!"

I regretted saying those words as soon as they came out of my mouth.

"Help me?! How the fuck did you think you were helping anyone? You're such a worthless bitch, James. Fuck you. You should've drank the poison yourself. I hate you."

I stood there, frozen. I knew tears were running down my cheeks, but I didn't try to wipe them away.

Jessie would never forgive me.

Jessie HATES me.

I ended up in the waiting room, not sure how I got there. Somehow, I ended up in the motel room, lying flat on my back on the bed.

Meowth sat next to me. "What happened?" he asked.

I never really told him.

(Meowth's point of view)

What happened to James?

He hardly smiled. He smiled a lot before the visit, but he didn't after the second one. He just sat around with a scared look on his face.

He was skinny before the second visit, but now he wasn't eating and he seemed to be wasting away.

He wasn't sleeping right. He had dark circles under his eyes and his hair was constantly messy.

He looked like a lost child.

What went wrong with the visit? What made James give up on life? What could I do to make him want to live again?

"What did Jessie do to you?" I asked.

James didn't answer.

"What did she do?!" I was almost hysterical.

James started crying.

"She….told me to kill myself," James sobbed.

I was pissed.

"That does it. Jessie has hurt you one too many times. Tomorrow, we're going back to that mental institution to straighten things out between you two. You don't deserve all this pain, James," I said.

James looked frightened.

"Will Jessie ever get out of the asylum?" James asked.

"Who knows?" I said.

(James's point of view)

Meowth and I walked back to the mental institution. I was really scared, but I had to straighten things out with Jessie.

"You can go to the bathroom if you need a break, but we're not leaving until we get things straightened out," Meowth had said.

I had no choice but to obey.

I walked into the room. Meowth followed.

"Why are you acting this way?" I managed to ask.

"What?!" Jessie said.

I was so startled I almost didn't answer. "Why are you acting this way" I repeated.

"You said I'm a psychopath," Jessie said.

"I want to know why you're a psychopath!" I didn't know why I was so cranky all of a sudden. I guess I didn't want to be bothered with smart arse comments.

"Fuck, you don't have to scream," Jessie said, uninterested.

"It's the only way you'll listen to me! Why did you want me to kill Meowth?! Why were you drugging me?!" I cried.

"To make Team Rocket better," Jessie said. The words "no, shit" would've fit perfectly in the sentence.

"How would that make us better? What does the word 'partner' mean to you? Meowth doesn't deserve to die and I don't deserve to be told to kill him! And I'm glad I lied and ran away! How would killing Meowth make Team Rocket better?!" I was trying to hold back tears, but I didn't seem to be doing a good job of it.

Jessie didn't look interested at all. I knew she could kick me or hit me from inside the cell (I was in kicking range).

Jessie kicked me in my side and punched me in the face. I was knocked over, of course.

Meowth jumped up and scratched Jessie across her face.

"Don't you ever hurt James like that!" he yelled. He was crying. "Why are you acting like a psychopathical asshole?! Just cut out the shit and stop hurting us! We can't go a fuckin' day without worrying whether you got your ass thrown in jail or escaped! Why are you suddenly such a dickhead, anyway?"

Meowth continued ranting and swearing at Jessie. Jessie still looked bored. Meowth must've realized she wasn't listening to him.

"C'mon, James. Let's go," he said, sounding depressed.

I struggled to get up. Meowth and I walked back to the motel.

Then Meowth was the one sitting around, looking ready to cry.

"Even yelling and swearing didn't make her listen," I said.

Meowth began to cry. I held him. The poor kitty. I had to protect him.

"I just wanted to get Jessie back," Meowth said.

We stared into each other's eyes. Meowth's pretty blue eyes had tears in them. I wiped away one of his tears.

"Maybe we will, Meowth. Maybe we will."

(Meowth's point of view)

Here's what happened.

James and I got out of the motel. We set up our tent next to the mental institution and went in there every day.

Jessie eventually got back to normal. I acted like nothing happened, but it took a while for James to get used to her.

A kind of happy ending to an unhappy experience.

Life isn't half bad.

-O-o-O-o-O-

Moral of the story: When a cat watches someone sleep, it's generally not creepy. If a sapient talking cat Pokémon watches someone sleep, well....It's still a better love story than Twilight.

Mascara

Toxic ex bf! Ghost x reader.

Cw: Verbal abuse, physical abuse, dub con

“Stumblin’ in at the ass crack of dawn dressed like a slag. Typical.” Simon grunts out, his hulking form sprawled lazily on your arm chair.

You freeze in your tracks, mouth going dry, heart beat creeping into your throat, and the hairs on your arm standing at attention. You’d expected something like this to happen soon. Since the break up you’d blocked him cold turkey on everything and tried your best to put the situation as far out of your mind as possible. It was impossible not to notice the signs of his impending debut back into your life though. The burner accounts that always viewed your social media stories first, the unknown number calls, and the middle aged man across the hall who’d warned you about a potential thief casing your place. It reeked of Simon, all of it.

“You need to get out of my house.” You say as firmly as you can, lips pulled tight and arms crossed against your chest, shielding your cleavage in the admittedly skimpy dress.

He lets out a dry chuckle with no humor behind it, somewhere deep in his chest before rising to his feet and taking a step towards you, causing you to reflexively flinch. A few more strides and you find yourself pressed to the door, barely enough room to breathe without your stomach pressing into his. His face connects to the crook of your neck, inhaling deeply. His scent trail follows all the way down, dropping to his knees and lifting your dress to prod at your cunt with his nose while you’re paralyzed in disbelief and fear. He lets out a low hum and taps the outside of your thigh twice before standing, seeming satisfied with his fucked up field report.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” You ask, your voice cracking and hushed as you try to not give him the satisfaction of tears.

“Had to make sure no one else used my pussy. I know she was beggin’ for something all night with the way you’re dressed. You must be starved huh, love?” He muses, his hand snaking down to cup your cunt in his hand, rubbing at your clit with his palm and not bothering to pull your underwear to the side first.

You want to call the police. You want to tell him that you hate him and to get the hell out of your place. You want to scream at him until your vocal cords tear. However, there’s a difference between a want and a need. He’d taught you that well. Right now with the alcohol still in your system and the neglect of your sex drive for months, you need him. You need to feel the way that only he can make you feel, and you can’t tell if you hate him or yourself more in this moment.

Your resistance fades away the more he palms at your pussy and is lost all together when he rips your panties off, spitting on his hand and rubbing two calloused fingers over your puffy clit. The sparks of pleasure run up your spine and down your legs, causing them to shake and become unsteady. In an act of mercy you’re slung over his shoulder and walked to your room. He drops you onto the bed unceremoniously, pawing at your dress before finally ripping it off over your head, letting it fall to the floor.

“There she is.” He hums, running his hands down the soft skin of your belly and stopping right before where you needed him most.

“Please. Simon please just—I need—.” You attempt to say before a sharp slap to your pussy cuts you off, a strangled squeal leaving your throat.

“I know what you need. I know you better than anyone.” He says lowly, hooking his thumbs under the waistband of his sweats and underwear, pulling them down in a fluid motion.

His cock is rock hard, red at the tip and weepy. From the looks of it, he hadn’t gotten laid lately either. He leans forward and slaps the fat tip against your clit, a content smirk on his lips. You scold yourself mentally from almost sentimentalizing it. You shouldn’t be doing this. You shouldn’t be under him again. You should—.

Your thoughts completely clear as you feel the agonizing stretch of very little prep. A deep burn and sting in your core that promises to dissapear and replace itself with blissful fullness. He wastes no time, his hips rocking into you; fat cock dipping in and out of you as his balls slap against your ass. One of his hands finds it’s home on your throat and the other rests on your clit, rubbing agonizingly slow.

“You know where home is. Don’t cha’ baby? Waited nice an’ good for me to come back and take care of my pretty pussy.” He growls, the tempo of his thrusts picking up and causing your hips to ache from the constant slamming.

“Fuck you Simon.” You manage to choke out with all of the malice that you can, and in a moment of boldness spitting right in his face.

His thrusts grind to a halt and he lifts his hand to his face, using the back of his palm to wipe the spit off of his chin and onto your sheets. His eyes lock with yours, brows knitted together and pupils blown out like a jaguar about to disembowel a poor tapir. Immediately you want to take it back, to apologize and kneel at his feet and beg to him like a god for a shred of mercy. But his mind seems to be already made up.

The back of his palm connects with your cheek just once, leaving it red and stinging and angry. The tears that finally flow from your eyes drag muddy grey lines down your face, mascara and eyeliner. Simon seems to be spurred on by your disheveled look, his thrusts picking up again and hand returning to your face.

“I fuckin’ own you. Dumb little bitch. You need to be led and told what to do. Can’t be trusted alone. Gonna get yourself killed or knocked up by some deadbeat.” He grunts into your ear, his pace becoming erratic indicating that he’s nearing his end.

Your cunt clenches hard around him involuntarily, your thighs locking around him as you reach your orgasm, involuntarily milking Simon in the process. You’d be screaming if it wasn’t for the massive hand clamping your airway shut, which your neighbors are probably grateful for. With a loud moan Simon spills, his hips stilling as hot cum floods your insides. He doesn’t bother to pull out before laying next to you, half hard cock nestled comfortably in your pussy.

“Sweet thing. It’s a big world out there, you’d be lost without me wouldn’t you little stray?” He hums, licking his thumb and rubbing it against your cheek to try and wipe off the makeup mess.

“…Yes, Si.” You agree, full of shame and guilt.

I don't feel good. This time, it has nothing to do with those chocolate toast things.

There's an old lady outside s c r e e c h i n g at her grandkids and their pokémon. The words she's using are...

Unpleasant.

I... Can't.

I just...

I want to...

I need to go someplace without outside noise. Like Dad's underground lab. If I don't, I think I'm going to...

- Colanda Achroma

Nothing you could possibly send me would make this okay. And even though I'm acting as I am, this isn't my problem though dad's currently out there defending the kids from that hag's foul mouth.

If I stayed upstairs any longer, I one hundred percent would've been the Achroma to cross her path... And the wrong one!

I'd...

- Colanda Achroma

Picked a bad time to go home. Of all of the things to happen outside her house...

@violet-flower-without-color

You need anything? I know how to send stuff via Pelipper Mail now!

Even as a man who keeps his ideals separate from his truth, I'm appalled by that woman's behavior. What she screamed at her own grandchildren was not unlike what I've heard from the foul mouth of a man I once thought I knew...

- Colress Achroma

Things I Should Not Have Been Told By Group Home Staff

-“You should watch! It’s good practice for when you’re with _____!” (After me saying I was uncomfortable with s3x scenes in movies)

-“You know, if you don’t do that stuff with him, he’ll find it elsewhere.” (After explaining that I was asexual.)

-“If I was mad, I’d do shit like this!” (She threw a chair and sent us into a flashback.)

-“You don’t look like a boy.” (After telling them yeah, I’m a trans dude. And they proceeded to call me she no matter how many times I or others corrected them.)

-“Do I need to call someone to come pick you up?” (Referring to the cops. I was reporting an abusive staff member and was getting SLIGHTLY angry when I wasn’t listened to about it.)

-“Maybe you need to go to a hospital, is that what you want?” (See above scenario.)

-Made a lot of s3xual jokes in front of/to/about me.

-“You’re lucky you’re not worth me losing my job.”

-*silent treatment for hours on end*

They would also watch extremely s3xual movies around me, including a good few with SA scenes in them. It did not matter if I was uncomfortable, because of course not, right?

BTW during all of this I was still very much a minor. So yeahhh.

Read if you'd like too

⚠️TRIGGER WARNING ⚠️ vent about abuse/assault

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.

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I truly wish I was an only child,

all my sister's have done are fk me over and fuck me up mentally,

especially my lil sister she's turned into someone I can't stand to be around she's so manipulative I already can't trust anyone and they just make it sm worse.

But at least I know my mom has my back and will defend me,

She does things on purpose to trigger me and my mother.

She deflects and tries to make excuses for what she does wrong.

I know I should be more understanding and considerate about her mental health but it's tiring when she doesn't give 2 fucks about anyone else's I do not want to be the bigger or better person.

I will never accept or allow her being shitty to me or my mother that's never been me and it never will be.

She assaulted our grandpa hit him and tries to make me not tell my mom I've always told my mother anything that goes on so if it's serious I will tell her but apparently I'm the bad guy for that do I care honestly no.

She made the first move and hit him and bragged and laughed about inflicting pain on him and that she enjoyed it...

Now I wouldn't be so idk about that because I can be pretty violent too but not without reason.

We learned from a young age to never hit someone first to let them take the first hit on us then hit or whatever after...

But I guess it only stuck with me.

Y'know sometimes it takes some tik toks to make you really think..

I don't think I've really thought about or realized how much my childhood really shaped me into the person I am..

How instead of male yelling voices it's female yelling voices that trigger me the most I feel like a lil kid again scared and afraid and I hate feeling like that.

Same old thing no one notices it I tell them but they ignore me.

My mother says are triggers are our own and need to deal with them on our own..

But how when you've never learned how too?

I have audhd and she knows this she's been told since my childhood in school and out of school that things will be harder for me to learn...

Idk I think she thinks I make excuses for why I can't do certain things..

She makes things ten times harder on me "oh it's not that hard" " you can do it it's not that hard" but it is and I don't have the ability to really explain why I can't do it...

It seems like this is just me complaining about the same ol things I already have...

I know I'm pathetic I'm 25 n still living with my mom but I don't have anywhere else to go..

ᵂʰʸ ⁱˢ ⁱᵗ ᵗʰᵃᵗ ᵗʰᵉʸ ᶜᵒᵐᵖˡᵃⁱⁿ ᵃᵇᵒᵘᵗ ᵐᵉ?  ᶜᵒᵐᵖˡᵃⁱⁿ ᵃᵇᵒᵘᵗ ʷʰᵃᵗ ᴵ'ᵛᵉ ᵈᵒⁿᵉ ⁱⁿ ᵗʰᵉ ᵖᵃˢᵗ.

ᵀʰᵉʸ ᵈᵒ ⁿᵒᵗ ᵗʳᵘˢᵗ ᵐᵉ. ᴴᵒʷ ᵗʰᵉʸ ᵐᵘˢᵗ ʲᵘᵈᵍᵉ ᵐᵉ ᶠᵒʳ ᵐʸ ᵖʳᵉˢᵉⁿᵗ ᵃⁿᵈ ᶠᵘᵗᵘʳᵉ.

ᴴᵒʷ ᵈᵒ ᵗʰᵉʸ ʷʳᵒⁿᵍᶠᵘˡˡʸ ᵃᶜᶜᵘˢᵉ ᵐᵉ ˢᵒ ?

ᴺᵒᵇᵒᵈʸ ᵇᵉᵃʳˢ ᵗᵒ ᵃˢᵏ ᵐᵉ, ᴬᵐ ᴵ ᵐᵉⁿᵗᵃˡˡʸ ᵒᵏᵃʸ? 

ᵀʰᵉʸ ᶜˡᵃⁱᵐ ᵗʰᵉʸ ᶜᵃʳᵉ, ᵇᵘᵗ ᵗʰᵉʸ ᵈᵒⁿ'ᵗ.

ᵀʰᵉʸ ᵗʰⁱⁿᵏ ᵒᶠ ᵐʸ ᵐᵉⁿᵗᵃˡⁱᵗʸ ᵃˢ "ʷᵒᵉ ⁱˢ ᵐᵉ?"

ʸᵉᵗ ᵗʰᵉʸ ᵇᵘˡˡʸ ᵐᵉ ʷʰᵉⁿ ᴵ ᵐᵃᵏᵉ ⁱᵗ ᶜˡᵉᵃʳ ᵗʰᵃᵗ ᴵ ʷᵃⁿᵗ ᵗᵒ ᵇᵉ ˡᵉᶠᵗ ᵃˡᵒⁿᵉ.

ᵀʰᵉʸ ʰᵃᵛᵉ ᵏⁱˡˡᵉᵈ ᵐᵉ ᵐᵉⁿᵗᵃˡˡʸ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵉᵐᵒᵗⁱᵒⁿᵃˡˡʸ.

ᵂʰʸ ᵃᵐ ᴵ ᵖᵃʳᵃⁿᵒⁱᵈ ᵃᵇᵒᵘᵗ ˢˡᵉᵉᵖⁱⁿᵍ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵉᵃᵗⁱⁿᵍ?

ᵂʰʸ ᵐᵘˢᵗ ᴵ ˢᵉᵉᵏ ʰᵉˡᵖ ʷʰᵉⁿ ⁱᵗ ⁱˢ ˢᵒ ᵗᵉᵐᵖᵒʳᵃʳʸ? 

ᵂʰʸ ʰᵃᵛᵉ ᴵ ⁿᵒᵗ ᵉⁿᵈᵉᵈ ᵐʸ ˡⁱᶠᵉ ʸᵉᵗ?

ᴵˢ ⁱᵗ ᵇᵉᶜᵃᵘˢᵉ ᴵ'ᵐ ˢᵗⁱˡˡ ʰᵒˡᵈⁱⁿᵍ ᵒⁿᵗᵒ ˢᵒᵐᵉᵗʰⁱⁿᵍ ᴵ ˢᵗⁱˡˡ ᶜʰᵉʳⁱˢʰ?

ᴵ ᶜᵃⁿⁿᵒᵗ ˡᵃᵘᵍʰ ⁿᵒʳ ˢᵐⁱˡᵉ ⁱⁿ ᵃ ᶠᵃᵐⁱˡʸ ᵒᶠ ᵍᵃˢˡⁱᵍʰᵗᵉʳˢ.

ᴵ ᵃᵐ ᵗⁱʳᵉᵈ ᵒᶠ ᵇᵉⁱⁿᵍ ᵉᵐᵒᵗⁱᵒⁿᵃˡˡʸ ᵍᵃˢˡⁱᵗ; ᴵ ᵃᵐ ᵗⁱʳᵉᵈ ᵒᶠ ᵇᵉⁱⁿᵍ ᵐᵉⁿᵗᵃˡˡʸ ᵍᵃˢˡⁱᵗ; ᴵ

ᵃᵐ ᵗⁱʳᵉᵈ , ᴵ ᵃᵐ ᵗⁱʳᵉᵈ , ᴵ ᵃᵐ ᵗⁱʳᵉᵈ. 

ᴵ ᶜᵒⁿˢⁱᵈᵉʳ ᵐʸˢᵉˡᶠ ᵃ ᴳʳᵉᵉᵏ ᵗʳᵃᵍᵉᵈʸ ᵗʰᵃᵗ ᴴᵒᵐᵉʳ ⁿᵉᵛᵉʳ ᵐᵉⁿᵗⁱᵒⁿᵉᵈ ᵇᵉᶜᵃᵘˢᵉ, ʷʰᵃᵗ ᴵ'ᵛᵉ ˢᵖᵒᵏᵉⁿ ʷⁱᵗʰ ᵐʸ ᵗᵒⁿᵍᵘᵉ ⁱˢ ᶜᵒᵛᵉʳᵉᵈ ᵇʸ ᵃⁿᵒᵗʰᵉʳ ᵖᵉʳˢᵒⁿ'ˢ ˡⁱᵉ.

ᴵ ʰᵃᵛᵉ ᵇᵉᵉⁿ ᵗʰʳᵉᵃᵗᵉⁿᵉᵈ ⁿᵒᵗ ᵒⁿᶜᵉ ᵗʰʳⁱᶜᵉ ᵗᵒ ᵇᵉ ᵃˢˢᵃᵘˡᵗᵉᵈ ᵇʸ ᵃ ᶠᵃᵐⁱˡʸ ᵐᵉᵐᵇᵉʳ ᶠᵒʳ ˢᵒᵐᵉᵗʰⁱⁿᵍ ᴵ ʰᵃᵛᵉⁿ'ᵗ ᵈᵒⁿᵉ.

ᴬⁿᵈ ʸᵉᵗ ᵗʰᵉ qᵘᵉˢᵗⁱᵒⁿ ʳᵉᵐᵃⁱⁿˢ...

ˢᵖᵉᵃᵏ ⁿᵒʷ ᵒʳ ᶠᵒʳᵉᵛᵉʳ ʰᵒˡᵈ ʸᵒᵘʳ ᵖᵉᵃᶜᵉ?

WAHH NOO BOBBYBOY

TW: Torture, Implied molestation, Blood, marking, verbal abuse, manipulation, traumatic memories

"Him..."

"I HATE YOU. GET. OUT. OF. MY. HEAD."

Some more Bob lore. And I'm so sorry to those who read this..

Murder Drones Drabble - Too Loud TW// Verbal Abuse and Self Harm

TW// beratement, verbal abuse, gaslighting, mild self harm, emotional distress, corporate jobs

Tessa sat at her repair desk in her bedroom, not chained up, but definitely locked in, and she was hungry because she missing out on mid morning smoko. The now 16 year old girl mulled over what had happened earlier.

--------------------

It was a practice run for when Tessa would start working next year part time. She was sitting at the desk in the small office off of her father's, surrounded by branded pens and stationary. Opening the work e-mails, she noticed one regarding a bigger company hadn't been read yet, and she had been the one who assisted the last time with it. Tessa looked through the database and found the records and certificates needed for the subcontractor of JC Jensen and sent it off attached to a politely worded email that read:

'Dear Avery Johnson of Qlean Flow Solvents,

I hope this email finds you well, please note the documents attached as we had sent them prior. Hope this clears up any discrepancies, Sincerely,

Tessa James Elliott Office Assistant'

She was pleased with her work, noticing her father's voice from the next room over, she paid no mind until her desk phone rang. She didn't understand the need to use a landline sometimes, but, she still answered it. "JC Jensen, Elliott Office, Tessa speaking," she greeted in the corporate tone she had practiced with J for hours on.

The Aussie man on the other end, James Elliott himself, greeted over the phone, "No need to concern the email in regards to the Qlean Flow company, I handled it already with a phone call."

Tessa hesitated at first, but was kind of glad he didn't just walk in to tell her that, because he would've seen the nervousness on her face. "F-Father, I... I may have resent them the documents, but I worded the email politely and-" the ebony haired girl explained until she was interrupted.

"And why would you do that?" James Elliott remarked sharply, the Aussie man sighed in annoyance before Tessa could even talk, "Didn't you see that it was marked read?"

Tessa had opened the email when it was still unread, perhaps even at the same time as her father. "I didn't mean to, I'm sorry, I must have opened it at the same time as you," the Elliott heiress apologized softly.

"What is it with your generation? All of you are daft dingoes. You don't build rapport with customers and business partners by 'emails and texts' you PHONE them."

Tessa tried to get in an apology but got interrupted.

"I mean, how would you feel if one of your drones didn't have the gall to tell you something important and sent you it through a text? Especially if it was something important," James rambled on and on over the phone, "It's like how people get divorces over text because they haven't pulled their head in. How disrespectful is that? And you SAW it was unread, right?" he was now starting to try to gaslight Tessa, not knowing the drone-adoring girl wouldn't be shaken that easily.

"N-no, I-I saw it was unread, I mean it, I'm sorry," she exclaimed in an apologetic tone, not realizing she was talking louder.

James lost his composure, even though this was his daughter, the only heir to his livelihood and someone he cared about when he had time to care or wasn't too busy or forgot, he yelled over the phone, "YOU DROP THAT TONE RIGHT NOW YOUNG LADY!"

Tessa dropped the phone, she out of instinct grabbed at her wrist and squeezed hard where it was already bruised. She hated herself so much in that moment, 'maybe the pain would teach her a lesson' she thought to herself as the man who had given her middle name shouted at her.

"WE BOTH KNOW HOW THIS WILL END, WITH ME TAKING IT OUT ON A LIBRARY DRONE AND YOU CRYING IN THE CORNER AS YOU WATCH, SO YOU BETTER NOT SHOUT AT ME ANYMORE!"

Tessa pleaded, her voice smaller now, just above a whisper as she picked the receiver up, "I-I promise... I w-w-wasn't yelling, s-sir... I... I was just afraid... I'm sorry, it won't happen again, I promise."

James responded sternly, but at least he wasn't yelling now, "I think you need to go take smoko in your room, come back when you are better behaved."

----------------------

And Tessa remembered as soon as she went into her room, the doors had closed behind her and locked, she laughed to herself somberly and looked to the window, seeing the rain outside, she decided she would sneak out to the graveyard. If she wasn't wanted at 'work' then she'd at least go somewhere that she'd be able to forget everything for a while.

She grabbed her sewing scissors, the keys to the mausoleum, and a couple granola bars from the stash J had put under her bed to stuff into her messenger bag, before she unlocked her bedroom window, climbed out, and snuck along the garden's edge until she got below the willow tree. "I may as well make the best of this," she said to herself, heading through the archway to the graveyard.

The End

{adria arjona, 32, she/her} we are so glad to see you safe, LADY AMARA SALAZAR of CARDIFF! it’s dangerous out in the world these days, but i hear that you are  KINDHEARTED and EMPATHETIC  enough to handle it. just don’t let your INGENUOUSLY bring you down! stay on your guard, because with your secret being at risk for exposure, you wouldn’t want everyone to find out YOU OVERHEARD ABOUT A PLOT THAT CAN PLACE YOUR LOVER AT RISK. (its me mara)

Background:

Lady Amara Salazar of Cardiff, originally hailing from a lesser noble family in Puerto Rico. Her early life and childhood was marred by tragedy and abuse. Amara shared a close bond with her little sister Carla, spending countless hours together and forming a deep connection. However, this happiness was shattered when her sister fell gravely ill. Amara stayed by her side, offering care and companionship, but despite her efforts, her sister passed away.

Amara's father, Don Carlos Salazar, was a stern and traditional man who managed the family’s modest estate and small coffee plantation. Despite their noble status, the family’s finances were often strained, adding to the pressures Carlos felt. After the loss of his youngest daughter, Carlos was consumed by grief and anger, directing his blame toward Amara. To cope with his pain, he resorted to drinking heavily, and when drunk, he would treat Amara terribly, subjecting her to both verbal and occasional physical abuse.

Amara's mother, Doña Angelica Dapena, was a gentle and nurturing woman who initially tried to maintain peace within the household. She was devoted to her children and spent her days tending to the household and supporting her husband's endeavors. However, the death of her youngest daughter proved too much for Angelica to bear. Unable to handle the family's turmoil and her husband’s increasing hostility, she abandoned the family shortly after her youngest daughter’s death, leaving Amara to bear the brunt of her father's anger alone.

Despite these hardships, Amara's inherent kindness and empathy shone through. She found solace in activities that allowed her to escape her difficult reality. She would immerse herself in novels, losing herself in stories of far-off places and better times. Amara also expressed herself through painting, creating beautiful artworks that reflected her inner world.

Horseback riding became another of her cherished pastimes, providing a sense of freedom and escape. Additionally, Amara was deeply connected to her community. She would often help her neighbors with tasks such as picking coffee or sugar cane, offering her assistance whenever it was needed. Her willingness to help others and her genuine concern for their well-being made her a beloved figure in her community.

Her beauty caught the eye of a high lord who sought her hand in marriage. Seeing this as an escape from her father's torment, she accepted, though her father made the decision driven solely by financial gain, disregarding her wishes.

Her marriage brought her to Cardiff, where her new husband treated her with gentleness and respect. Their relationship, built on mutual respect, evolved into a deep friendship over the years. Amara embraced her new role, receiving education in etiquette and household management, and dutifully attended social events at her husband's side.

At one of these events, Amara met Philip, a Viscount, whose presence stirred emotions in her that she had longed to feel. Despite being married, Philip captivated her, and Amara, who had always yearned for true love, found herself drawn to him. She desires love and to be loved, without expecting anything in return.

Personality:

Amara's kindhearted and empathetic nature is both her strength and her vulnerability. Her ingenuousness can sometimes lead her into precarious situations. She is a woman defined by her resilience, kindness, and empathy. She is loyal to her responsibilities and the people she cares about. She diligently attended social events with her husband and learned how to manage a household. Her sense of duty extends to her community, where she is always ready to lend a helping hand. Amara’s brave yet vulnerable nature drives her to protect those she loves, even at great personal risk. 

Secret and Motivations:

She harbors a profound secret that weighs heavily on her heart. Recently, she overheard a dangerous plot that threatens the safety of Philip, the Viscount who has captured her affections. This revelation has placed her in a precarious position, torn between her desire to protect Philip and the risk of exposing herself to danger and betrayal.Amara's motivations stem from her deep-seated yearning for love and emotional connection. Her marriage, while respectful, lacks the passionate love she craves. Meeting Philip awakened dormant desires within her, igniting a fervent longing for true intimacy and companionship.