tonight was a very good night thank you all friends. v0v
but if you want more me singing or reading lines as bobby you can reply to this with whatever or message me! i'm gonna do kate and alex' requests tomorrow in the same recording!
These were really fun to write! Thanks for sending them in, and the same goes to my anons from yesterday!
Bobby was only a child, just a little blue boy with soft orange curls in a world that would hurt him.
Caligosto knew that all too well. He rocked himself back and forth, fingers latched at his elbows as he stared down the clock. Two hours had gone by since his darling little Bobby was snatched from him by those social workers. He could only look on in disarray as they gently explained to the young boy that he needed to go away for a while, and Bobby threw one of the biggest temper tantrums he had ever seen. His face grew hot, fiery red to match the darkest parts of his hair, and he stomped his barefoot on their polished dress shoes. With his sharp, piercing voice, Bobby hurled insults at them as a woman dragged him out of the house, and Caligosto could still hear Bobby shouting for him.
He glanced down at his arm, scratching it absentmindedly as the even continuously mulled over in his mind. Social Services claimed he was “an unfit parent” and that Bobby would grow up in an “abusive” environment. “Unfit parent” was only one way to describe his troubles. With his sanity seeming to slip every day as brains and teeth wrapped around his mind, Caligosto’s outbursts broke more often than not. He had shouted and panicked in a grocery store in front of Bobby, who only gazed at Caligosto with frightened tears in his eyes, and onlookers were quick to dial for the police. He was sent in for mental evaluation, nearly failed it, and social services were swift to retrieve Bobby. His legs suddenly gave out, causing him to cry out in shock and land on his bottom. With the dying echo of his crash and the creaking of wood perishing, Caligosto gripped onto his short black tangles of hair. Just where was Bobby? What would they do to him? More importantly, where were they taking the last joy he had left?
It was foster care, he realized, biting down on his knuckles and whimpering pathetically in the somber darkness of his broken home. They would take Bobby to a new home and force him to call strangers his parents and be tormented by new “siblings.” Bobby was fragile, wasn’t he? He needed him, needed his father to show him the way, even if he had no idea where the way was anymore. Caligosto stumbled to his feet, sluggishly ambling in the shadowed corridors and fumbled into Bobby’s room. His closet was cleared out, leaving no scrap of clothing, and his bed was still a mess with the covers listlessly sloping off his mattress. Stuffed animals were gone, and even Bobby’s watch, the one that Caligosto bought for him two years ago with the image of his favorite superhero, was missing from his cleaned table.
“Bobby,” he called with a hint of a nervous grin, “Bobby, are you in here? Don’t hide on me, lad.”
His call, uncertain and frantic, went unanswered. Slowly, as the words that bubbled up in his throat died, Caligosto’s hands shot to his wet eyes. He simpered, hiccupping and darting for Bobby’s bed, collapsing onto it. Gathering his blankets, he heaved them around himself, exposing his shins, and he buried his face into his fluffy blue pillow and wailed. Scratchy, discordant howls echoed throughout the vacant abode, shrieking into the silent twilight. They stole little joy, his tiny lad of five. Caligosto gnashed his teeth against the pillow, muffling his hollering woes as he beat his tired hands against the mattress. Each punch brought a springy retort with the bed rejecting his fist by forcing it to twitch with each impact.
How dare they? How dare they? How dare they? How dare they? How dare they take him from me! He was my lad, my boy! No one else’s! He was my precious, precocious brainy boy!
Caligosto’s blurred eyes, obscured by bulbous tears leaking down his face, squinted to try and see clearer. Yet, his mind warped, leaving him to see only distorted imagery of his son gazing down at him in horror. Gripping his head, Caligosto choked on his sobs, burying his face back into the pillow to block out that horrible mental trick. His mind had already cursed him, and in the end, Caligosto lost the only one who mattered, leaving him alone to his screams.
---
Rose Bouquet
Red was respect, devotion, and, most importantly, love. Pink symbolized happiness and appreciation while yellow represented friendship and joy. Orange belonged to the category of fascination and enthusiasm. White, finally, closed the deal with simplicity and reverence.
Each carefully trimmed rose was perfect. With soft, velvety petals, ripe with various colors, the roses were bound together by a silk cloth and a feathery gold strap. Adjusting the flowers so the red roses were in the middle, the bouquet would fit anyone’s outstretched hands perfectly and cuddle into their chest with a promise of protected adoration.
With every knock, a breath was taken. That person always knew how to keep someone waiting. With time to check fingernails and polished hiking boots, an aggravated sigh was heaved and numerous more knocks ensured. A sputtering cry echoed from within followed by hurried stomping of uniform-issued boots. When the door to his office at headquarters opened, the bouquet was hurriedly stuffed into dumbfounded arms.
“Took you long enough to open your door,” Lili snapped, crossing her arms as Raz readjusted himself. “What were you doing in there?”
“I was finishing up paperwork. Sorry about that,” Raz replied, averting her tight gaze to the rose bouquet. Taking in a deep whiff, the fresh, sweet aroma whirled his senses, becoming a fantasy of delight. “Wow! These smell so great!”
Rolling her eye, Lili placed her hand onto her cocked hip and smirked. “You didn’t even notice how I organized. All you do is smell things, which is kinda weird, Raz.”
He tapped his nose, grinning. “Well, I’ve always had a great nose.”
“Do you like them? I mean, I thought they all suited you. I was just gonna go with red, but that seemed so clichéd. It’s always about red roses when there is just so much more to the rose family.”
“Absolutely!” His voice could not contain his delight, beaming with enchantment over the present, and he telekinetically held the bouquet over his head, taking her hand and gently tugging her into his office. Letting the bouquet fall into his opened hands, he added, “Did you cultivate these? The fragrance is just so nice!”
“Mm, yeah. I grew them in a special in my garden. Since we’ve been dating for a while, I thought I’d make something like this for you.”
Flicking up his pea green eyes, Raz let his lips form a cursory ‘O.’ Shock dominated his features, nearly dropping the bouquet as he proclaimed, “Ahh! Then I should get you something! Hold on! Wait right here!”
As Raz hurried to leave, he found his feet were no longer slamming against the ground. Rolling his ankles, he looked down to find his body levitating off the ground before Lili, using her expert telekinesis, dragged him back in front of her.
“Raz, you giant doof.” She frowned, lips pursing together irritably before sighing. A light grin stretched into her pallid cheeks as she placed him onto the ground. “You don’t have to get me anything in return. Just consider this a promise.”
“A…promise?”
She stuck her tongue out at him. “But I won’t tell you what that promise is.”
“Heeey, secrets aren’t good in a relationship, Lili,” Raz teased, wrapping his free arm around her waist and gripped the bouquet with the other.
Placing her finger to her lip, she winked at him and left him to continuously ask. It was a silent promise, and each rose embodied what she felt and would continue to feel for him. That was the vow, for her to continue on with their love, trust, and every and all emotions no matter what storms they needed to weather. Roses were strong and tough, able to last for countless years, and that was her promise.
---
Height Complaints
He was short. That was plain and simple. Oleander was taller than Raz by a few inches, and Milla and Sasha towered over him. On missions, his fellow agents would have the nerve to place their arm on his head and use him as an armrest. Yet, what worsened and bruised his egos were the clichéd insults. “Shorty,” “half-pint,” “midget,” he had heard them all ever since he was a little boy.
Oleander’s stunted growth had always irked him. He was severely shorter than average, and when he became a Psychonaut, he was already over the edge with the invectives and jabs sent his way. Being a Senior Facility Officer, Oleander was in charge of a plethora of training units for young psychics, and even they did not respect him because of his height. The Whispering Rock campers were awful at times, leaving him seething and shouting, scaring off the more innocent cadets that had actually, genuinely liked him.
“Don’t worry about the name-calling, darling. You’re perfect the way you are.”
Milla always had a kind word for him. Even when she did scold him, it was in a nurturing manner like she was reproaching a child. Yet, she never mentioned his height at least to his face. While he was not certain if she ever thought anything demeaning about him, Oleander could never telepathically pick it up. However, that was not in her character to snidely rebuke someone behind their back.
Milla said his height was a part of his charm. He rolled his eyes, thought that was stupid and said she needed to work on better compliments. She merely chuckled, gloved fingers to her lips, and explained that with his height, he had an advantage over certain enemies. She also added that his height did not define him.
“Of course it does,” he ruefully replied, placing his crossed arms onto the wooden bars of his treehouse. The campers were playing a massive game of telekinetic tag with Mikhail as ‘it,’ leaving several students scrambling and screaming as Mikhail bolted after Benny under Maloof’s order. “Even the short kid, what’s his name? Malcolm?”
“Maloof, darling,” Milla gently corrected, and she smiled down at the scrambling children.
“Maloof’s short, but he has that Russian kid under his thumb. That commie kid respects him and does what he says. Hell, I never thought I’d be jealous of a brat, but…”
“Morry, there’s nothing to be jealous of,” Milla interjected when Oleander glanced away, biting down on his lip. “Maloof and Mikhail are very close friends. Mikhail helps Maloof with his powers, and Maloof is teaching him English. It’s a very good friendship, and it has nothing to do with Maloof’s height.”
“Half of those kids don’t respect me, Vodello! Yeah, those cheerleaders think I’m great, and Bobby actually likes challenging me to combat battles in Basic Braining, but most of them? They think I’m a joke, a short-tempered joke or they think I’m gonna kill them.”
“Well, there was that time with the boy and the soda…”
“How was I supposed to know he drank a six-pack when he was late to class? It was his fault.”
Milla shook her head slightly, sighing in slight exasperation before casting him another smile. “You know, what I think you need to do is know that you’re great, Morry. Height doesn’t matter when it comes to respect. What does matter is how you treat others. How you treat is others is how you want to be treated, no?”
“That’s so corny. It sounds like something a preschool teacher would sa-” Cutting himself off, Oleander quickly shook his head, saying, “I mean, uh, hell, maybe you’re right.”
“I am right, darling.” She placed her hand on his shoulder, bending down and giving him a slight kiss on the cheek. At his disgruntled expression and groan, Milla laughed, taking his hands and dragging him down the wooden steps. “Come on, baby! Let’s go play with the children! We can show them who the real king and queen at tag are, and for that, height means nothing!”
“Hey, yeah! I can easily snatch those kids up with my telekinesis! Hah, those tykes won’t know what hit them!”
