Your CS Pet Pairs? :3 (NEW THREAD!)

[flashlight reveries~]

[ S o p h i e ] x [ A l e x a n d e r ]

There are many pretty things in life.
...
It's a shame you aren't one of them.



Possible story. ;A;
But I dunno.
... I'm shy. -flees-

Cute pair, and cute story. It made me laugh. ^_^

[Paper Moon]

[Sorry it's going to be a huge post! Once I got going with this I just couldn't stop. . . x__x]


Aurel [♂] xxx Tiberius [♂]

"Aurel, I am concerned your programming may be in error. Your reports indicate you have been spending more time than average with your ward."

-- Sir, I am his Guardian. It is my directive to assist and protect the human child Tiberius at all costs. Correct?

"...Correct," the Inventor replied after a moment. "However, my son is no longer a child. Your services as a Guardian are no longer needed."

Aurel kept his ocular receptors fixed on his creator, but did not immediately respond. A stuttering electric flicker behind the thick yellow lenses expressed his confusion. The mortal man addressing Aurel sighed and dragged tired fingers across his balding scalp. His beard had long since become more salt than pepper, and Aurel noted that the bags below the Inventor's eyes were growing heavier by the day. Aurel's ocular shutters slid shut with a soft 'click,' capturing the image for his databank. Someday when the Inventor's life ran out, Tiberius may wish to peruse Aurel's visual archives for memories of a father he only half-knew.

"I'm dismissing you as Tiberius's Guardian, Aurel. Your services will no longer be needed as of tomorrow," the Inventor repeated. "You'll be assigned to a new directive in a few days."

Aurel's processor whirred and clicked sharply. There was a sudden, fierce brightness lighting the habitually dim glow of his ocular receptors.

-- With all due respect, sir, I disagree. The directive I was given does not specify at what age my protection of Tiberius is terminated. I would like to remain in his employ, if not as his Guardian, than as his Servant.

"Aurel!" The inventor snapped, "You have been given your orders, and you knew this day would come..." He tapped two fingers against his temple and studied the iron man, his eyes narrowed behind his glasses. "...Perhaps your programming is more in error than I thought," he said slowly.

Aurel's processor whirred frantically inside its cranial casing. His cardiac pump sharply increased in speed, causing a corresponding warning light to begin blinking in the peripheral of his ocular receptors.

--I can assure you that my programming is not in error, sir. Your enemies are numerous, and the probability that Tiberius will be attacked upon venturing beyond the facility is quite high. The journey is too dangerous for him to make alone.

The Inventor sat back in his chair with a sigh, steepling his thick fingers together. "Naturally I won't be sending him alone," he replied. "Tiberius will be assigned a Sentinel unit, one equipped with the...proper equipment to handle whatever outside threats he'll come across." The Inventor smiled apologetically. "It's the way things were meant to be, Aurel."

The implication in his words was quite clear to Aurel: 'Machines aren't made to leave the facility. Humans are.'

But Aurel could not ignore his directive. It shoved its way insistently to the forefront of his processor, reverberating soundly against the walls of his cerebral casing: 'Protect and assist the human Tiberius at all costs.'

--Sir, if you were to modify my programming...

"And do what, make you into a Sentinel?" The Inventor scoffed. "Why would I do a thing like that, Aurel, when you're perfectly useful to me as a Guardian?" He eyed Aurel critically over the half-lenses of his spectacles. "No...no, I think I'll keep you just the way you are..." he murmured thoughtfully, "Your loyalty might even be a decent selling point. The government will pay me handsomely to offer a unit like you to protect a dignitary's child, or better yet the Emperor's own daughter!"

The Inventor's greed brought a victorious grin to his lips, and he gave a short bark of laughter at some joke Aurel failed to grasp. His auditory receptors did not recognize the Inventor's laughter as being similar to the unrestrained mirth so often displayed by Tiberius, and none of Aurel's sensors indicated a source of humor in this conversation. His cardiac pump sped up a little more, responding to his unease.

"But enough of this," the Inventor said suddenly, flapping his hand in a dismissive manner, "Your orders are to wait on Tiberius until further notice; he'll need help preparing for tomorrow morning. That should give you enough time to say your goodbyes, hm? You'll receive your new directive once he's on his way. Now go."

Aurel turned and promptly left the Inventor's study, striding purposefully through the maze of hallways to Tiberius's recouperation chamber. His cardiac pump was still siezed by palpitations, the unsually rapid pace causing the corresponding warning light in his ocular receptors' peripheral to begin blinking in earnest. It pulsed a faint red, and was shaped like the symbol humans commonly used to represent a heart. Sounds and images surfaced from Aurel's databank from a recalled video recording of one of his earlier days with Tiberius. It came into focus slowly, through a hiss of white static . . .

>> Tiberius held up a piece of red paper toward his ocular receptors, cut haphazardly into the heart symbol. Childish scrawl spelled out AUREL in smudged black ink. "Will you be my Valentine, Aurel?"

His metallic digits reached out to accept the offered paper, and Tiberius' smile beamed brilliantly up at him.

--I am not sure what this means. He admitted awkwardly. It was never a pleasant thing to concede that his databanks were imperfect, but surely the Inventor had reasons for not imparting the significance of a "Valentine" onto him.

"It means I love you, Aurel! And 'cause you took it, that means you love me too!"

He was baffled. Not by the human child's logic, but because he had never once been made aware of this symbolic "Valentine" or of this thing Tiberius referred to as "love." The logical explanation was that the Inventor had not considered such knowledge necessary to his derivative, to protect and assist this child during his maturation. But the error in the Inventor's logic remained glaringly obvious as he stared down at Tiberius's rapidly fading smile:

In order to interact with the small human, he needed to acquire knowledge of human customs and interactions that he had not been given. But doing so would be subverting the authority of the Inventor. The consequences, if discovered, would be severe.

"What's the matter?" Tiberius's voice was very small. "You do love me, don't you?" Aurel's auditory receptors identified the subtle wavering of the child's voice as an indicator of impending tears, and a soft warning alarm sounded inside Aurel's cranial casing. He needed to redirect the child's emotional state, and quickly.

--I do not know. He answered with all the tact his programming allowed. The boy's lip quivered and Aurel's alarm increased in volume. This was not proceeding as planned.

--Perhaps . . . you can tell me the significance of 'love' first?

Aurel's processor whirred. His request was in direct violation of the Inventor's wishes. The moral cortex of his processor informed him that this was a poor decision, and would result in punishment, and in an irritatingly pleasant voice, began to inform him specifically what that punishment would be. But Tiberius was grinning broadly, and all signs of a tearful meltdown had vanished. . .

He tapped a finger against his temple, shutting off the automatic stream of auditory warnings from the moral cortex. He could always reactivate it later. But seeing the look on the human child's face made Aurel's cardiac pump very slightly increase its speed, even as his databank registered that smiles were a human reaction to approval.

His directive was to protect and asisst the child at all costs, and the logic implanted in Aurel's databank informed him that the cost of whatever punishment the Inventor would impart upon him for this infraction was necessary for the well being of the child Tiberius.

Aurel's hydraulic legs allowed him to sink to the ground in a seated position, and Tiberius immediately clambered into his lap. "So," the child began, his face composed into what Aurel assumed was as 'scholarly' an expression as the seven-year-old could muster, "Love is an emotion that humans feel, like feeling happy or sad or angry . . ."

Aurel hesitated, then raised a hand questioningly. Tiberius giggled, then returned to his serious expression. "Yes, Aurel?"

--What does it mean to feel . . .? <<

. . .The voices from the video recording preserved in his databank faded slowly, and Aurel found himself at the entrance to Tiberius's recouperation chamber, having directed himself there on autopilot while his databank indulged him with a fondly recalled video recording. Aurel rapped his metallic knuckles against the door and stepped inside as it slid open.

"It's not fair, you know."

Aurel turned towards Tiberius, his auditory receptors having barely caught the mumbled words, timed perfectly with the hydraulic 'hiss' of the door opening.

--Pardon?

For a moment, Tiberius didn't answer. His thoughtful gray eyes were transfixed on the blank expanse of ceiling, his mouth pulled sharply downward in a serious frown. His eyes suddenly flicked towards his Guardian. Aurel snapped a quick photo with his ocular shutters for reference. He wanted to be able to recall the perfection of that moment: when the light refracted through the chamber's ventilation portals hit Tiberius's eyes in just such a way that they looked to Aurel like small exploding suns against the smooth backdrop of a face lingering on the coattails of childhood, even as adulthood rapidly lined that smooth brow with the hard creases Aurel had come to associate with the Inventor hard at work.

Tiberius was 18, and no longer a child. The Inventor had made that quite clear.

"It's not fair," the boy [for Aurel would always think of Tiberius as his boy] repeated, "that you can't feel like a human."

--I regret this, as well. He replied without hesitation.

Tiberius frowned, the lines at the corners of his mouth growing deeper. "But you don't actually FEEL regret," he argued, more with himself than with Aurel, so the robot stood by silently. "Your moral cortex tells you that regret is the appropriate response to a decision it tells you is wrong, and your sympathy chip tells you to apologize when I'm upset, but you never actually FEEL these things! It's just programming...There's no empathy there, no HEART."

--Do you believe my cardiac pump is in error? Should I be run a diagnostic for a malfunction? It has been palpitating rather oddly today...

The boy smiled. Aurel's ocular shutters snapped a photo. He wanted to recall the way that smile didn't reach Tiberius's eyes. . .the way it made his expression somehow more hollow. It made him look older, and more like his father than Aurel would have preferred to recognize.

"We both know there's nothing wrong with your cardiac pump, Aurel. I mean that it's cruel to give you this job and keep the one thing that would make you whole away from you."

--To what are you referring, Tiberius? The Sentinel upgrades?

"Well, yes, but that's only part of the answer." The boy stood and crossed the room to stand before his Guardian. "What if I made it so you COULD feel? What if you could experience things like surprise or fear or happiness or..."

--Or love?

"Or love," Tiberius echoed in a whisper. "Would you like that?"

--I do not understand how the Inventor would permit . . .

"Forget about him for a minute, would you? This isn't about my Dad and what HE wants, Aurel, this is about YOU and what YOU want."

His eyes were blazing again. Small suns devouring galaxies somewhere lightyears away.

"Is. This. What. You. Want?"

He asked the question slowly, enunciating each word as it slipped off his tongue.

Aurel's processor whirred in time with the rushing pulse of his cardiac pump. He knew that if his moral cortex had still been left on, it would have been sending up a terrible racket through his cranial casing loud enough to make processing data impossible. The mere recall of the awful noise lingered in Aurel's databank long enough to give him pause.

'Protect and assist the human Tiberius at all costs.'

His answer was the only logical one to give.

--Yes.

[Dr. Mirtachu]

and

^__^

[DarkNinja]

Jake [m].........................Cassandra [f]'

The interviewer looked at the woman that sat opposite her. She didn't look old for her age, around her mid 40's and for her age she was very beautiful. She looked tired, depressed and her pale, cadaverous face was likewise of a weak sun. Her long hair was plaited tightly around her head to give her more of a respectful look; but yet it was impossible to hide those visible long strands of greyness in the depth of her black hair. Her lips were neatly shut and her round large hazel eyes just kept staring at one corner of the room for some reason. Her face was of the cleanest white and yet even make up couldn't hide the dark purple bruises that slept under her eyelids for so long. She had a beautiful ovalar face with a matching Greek nose and yet for some reason she kept her fists close to her legs.
Like what was there to hide? The woman wore mourning clothes and the silence itself seemed to be strange. The room that they themselves sat in was large and well polished but still like its owner; it was pale. Those white walls with dark looking like furniture and those red curtains... Nothing else in the room was so bright coloured as those red curtains.
'Should we start?' The interviewer asked kindly minding the present silence in the room. There was another silence before the interviewee nodded gently. There was a deep breath taken before the introducing questions started.
'Cassandra. Ermm .... Miss Cassandra Brachnetta...' The interviewer struggled suddenly in her words losing self-confidence; after all it was no oridnary aristocrat she was talking to.
'May I start again please?' she asked innocently. There was the same repeatable nod and the interviewer began speaking again.
'Miss Cassandra Brachnetta, you are famous for your work of art where you played the piano and enhanced people with its beauty. When was the first time you were ever able to play the piano to the public?'
'I was young and mischievious... all my life was wasted on my awful mischief...'
'How were you mischievious?' The disturbing interruption annoyed the lady but she said nothing in return.
'I remember being forced to sit beside the piano. My dad taught me day and night. I was from a poor family and the piano came as an inheritance, I sometimes couldn't help detesting it. I had to learn everything I was given. I had to play to the crowds though I never liked it. After that I went to work for the circus and later my talent developed.'
'After losing your hands, was there something you lost inside yourself?'
There was another silence from the lady as she sat uncomfortably in her chair but this time she looked straight at the interviewer.
'I think I did lose a lot but I really everything when my loved one died...'

Please do not blame me for the size of this <.<

Please more <3

[Shark-salad]

[ S o p h i e ] x [ A l e x a n d e r ]

There are many pretty things in life.
...
It's a shame you aren't one of them.



Possible story. ;A;
But I dunno.
... I'm shy. -flees-

Don`t be shy ^^
I really like this pairing, If you`d write a story that`d be amazing ^^

i agree

[haylin]

Now, they lack the items in their story just due to the fact that I am trying to save my C$ for other things rather than items. Just imagine Speak with a fedora and Vula with a raincoat. ;D

xxx
Speak [m] xx Vula [f]

i'm h o t . h o t . h o t
but the rain is pouring
please come away~

"Excuse me, can I borrow your hat?" A fair young lady asked, clutching her jacket around her neck. The man turned, holding his blue umbrella close to his head. His expression was weak, miserable because of the droplets of rain falling from the sky. The woman rushed forwards, her shoes tapping upon the tar ground of the walkway for the circular garden. The male half-smiled and pulled his black fedora from his head and handed it out to the girl. She reached out for the accessory and threw it on her head.

"Thanks," the woman said, blushing. "I'm Vula." Vula put out her hand to the boy. He took her dainty palm and shook it gingerly, scared of injuring her in even the slightest way.

"Speak." He scooted the small umbrella over more so it was covering the girl. She blushed again. "You don't like rain?" Vula moaned.

"Heeeeeck no, I don't know why Gaia would make this crap. It just piddles out of the sky like sap dripping from a tree. Sticky, gross water. I'll stay with my spring water, thank you." The girl moaned. Speak laughed at her response and looked up at the sky from under the protection from the umbrella.

"I like it. It's refreshing."

"Pfft." Speak laughed again.

"Where you coming from, Vula?" He looked at her, charming the girl with his yellow eyes. Again her cheeks turned a light pink hue. He was a handsome boy, always standing outside in the rain.

"Work. Early morning shifts, they're terrible, but I can't work any other times," she sighed. "Oh~!" Vula snatched her vibrating cell phone from the side purse hanging upon her shoulder and flipped it open. "My friend's calling, I gotta take this, do you mi-?" Speak cut her off with a shake of his head. "Thanks." She paced away from him, holding the phone up to her ear.

"Hey--no, I know. Yes, I'm coming, sorry. The one up near the pier? M'kay, good. Bye." She snapped the device shut and waved to Speak. "Hey, I gotta go, I'm s'pose to meet my friend at the coffee shop up in town!" Vula shouted over to him, lying. Speak nodded with a smile and waved back. She turned and began trotting off, but paused mid-stride. "Hey," she spun around running back to Speak. "You got a phone?"

The boy rippled a pen from his jean pocket and scribbled his number on her warm hands.

"Text, call, whatever. Bye Vula." Vula smiled back at him and huffed a friendly 'good-bye' and high-tailed it out of the garden.

"I'd really appreciate it if you text me when you realize that you've got my fedora," Speak chuckled to himself, beginning home with his blue umbrella.

[Aah, this was supposed to be a deep story... :< Continue? :3]

lovelovelove!!please continue:)

[lululizzy23]

[ S o p h i e ] x [ A l e x a n d e r ]

There are many pretty things in life.
...
It's a shame you aren't one of them.



Possible story. ;A;
But I dunno.
... I'm shy. -flees-

Don`t be shy ^^
I really like this pairing, If you`d write a story that`d be amazing ^^

I agree

[Zeee]

Tris (M)

Amy (F)

PART ONE

Butterflies In my stomach

I sigh, grabbing onto the railing and roughly pulling myself up the bus steps. I lead myself down the little aisles of seats, which im gratefull to not have seatbelts. The bus is the one vehicle I cant wear a seatbelt. I shriek with excitment and pull into a window seat. A brown and white girl sits next to me, and I can tell by all the filled seats she has to sit with me. I tap her on the shoulder, making her purple bag fall. She frowns and picks it up quickly, stashing pens and pencils and books back inside. I even see a container of lipstick; why do girls need lipstick, anyways? I apologize, as I might as well make conversation while in this hot and sticky seat. I stare out the window, and see my buddies pushing and shoving. They all wave happily, still shoving, and I wave back. They walk, of course, or skateboard, and I have to take the bus (sometimes). "Hi, Um, sorry for knocking your bag over." I say, smiling. She grins. "Oh, no problem," I smile harder at this, because now I know she's not mad. "Im Amy." I glance at the other seats and admire her name. Amy..... Nice name. "Hi, Amy," I say, removing my hand from the sticky surface of the rubber seats, or whatever bus seats are made out of. I look down under my seat and see gum stuck to the bottom, and swears written in (not washable) marker on the ceiling, the seats, and even on the sides of the outside of the bus. Wow. Some people. "Im Tris." I glance at her joyfully. My hand touches hers and butterflies fill my stomach. I redden, and I even see her redden. I hesitate to take my hand off hers; I like the feeling. I dont know what it is. Maybe... Love? Nah. She's probably a like, cheerleader or something, and Im NOTHING. My nickname is "Not here". Its sad to be called that, but everyone just bumps into me and walks by me like im a ghost; im used to it now. "So, Tris," She says. I look down, now pulling my hand off. "What do you do? Football, hockey, soccer.." She asks. I shrug, digging into my bag. "Nothing." I laugh. She frowns. "Im treated like nothing; a peice of trash. Everyone just walks by me and pushes me like im a ghost. That's why my "nickname" is "Not here"..." I sigh, looking into her eyes. I can tell she feels bad. "Oh. Well, that's no way to live." She smiles. I can TELL she feels bad not just by her eyes, by her tone of voice. "I have no friends." I add, frowning sadly. She pats me. "Well, I think your pretty cool. Ill be your friend," She smiles. I smile back, thanking her. "by the way; im a cheerleader. But not one of those snotty ones." I knew she couldnt be mean. She puts her hand on mine (on purpose ).
Oh man... Here come the butterflies.



((Gotsta' go. Bai.))

MORE!

((Laters... I gotsta' goes to school. Luckily, we dont have school tomorrow on thursday. <3))

[.Autumn.]

Rapunzel & Eugene

We're waiting for the l i g h t to come ~

Best movie ever. =)
And yes, that is the best pet I could find for the lizard, shut up. D=<

Ahhh! I love it!

[VA BP]

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( i don't own these pairs but it would be great if one of these would get pups =)