Your CS Pet Pairs? (NEW THREAD)

[Fullmetal Soul]

Oh Jack, where for 'art thou Jack?

[Aviatrix]

I'm thinking of writing a story here sometime soon, but I have two pairs that I want to write for and I can't choose which one... so which would you prefer?

A continuation of this story

-OR-

a story for these two:

Oh, please keep writing "The Captain and the Creature" I loved it!!!! Please continue!

[cswolf.]

I'm thinking of writing a story here sometime soon, but I have two pairs that I want to write for and I can't choose which one... so which would you prefer?

A continuation of this story

-OR-

a story for these two:

Write one for the two dogs plz.

[Keriae]

I'm thinking of writing a story here sometime soon, but I have two pairs that I want to write for and I can't choose which one... so which would you prefer?

A continuation of this story

-OR-

a story for these two:

Oh, please keep writing "The Captain and the Creature" I loved it!!!! Please continue!

Agreed! I loved it, and I wonder what the Captain would do next.

[. Delirium .]

the fireman......the girl

---

The bow hugged the strings of the instrument, velvetine sounds awing the audience into silence. The single girl stood not on a stage, but on the ground, like the rest of the people, the bright white light glaring against her skin, beads of sweat threatening to break from her pores. Her face was knit together in concentration, her eyes flying across the crude notes scribbled across the sheet of music. There was no doubt in anyones mind about the girls talent. She was amazing; like an angel sent down to earth straight from heaven. When she was done, there was a slight pause, as if the whole room was in disbelief that she was done. And then applause. Such applause; the whole office space erupted. It was a beautiful sight. Almost as beautiful as the little girl.

---

The headlines were all the same. "World Trade Center Attacked; Thosands Dead", "Terrorist Attack on America", "Twin Towers No More", "9/11, a day to remember." What had happened that day was so huge, nobody would have been suprised if aliens had landed. The fireman wiped soot from his forehead, his sides heaving from so much labor, and no rest. They had to work all night to pull the last of the survivors from the rubble. Sirens wailed, people wailing alongside with them. It was a symphony of sadness. Pushing away what seemed like a desk, a petite body lay curled up next to a pile of papers and a chair. She appeared to be sleeping, but the man knew that was not the case. He knelt down to pick her up, when he noticed something in her hand. A violin. It was severely mangled, but he could still distinguish the shape. The girl looked vaguely familiar; like someone he had seen before in a dream. He picked the crumpled body up, tucking her head in, and closing her eyelids. He brought her to the sidewalk, and set her down, violin beside her. Watching with misty eyes, the EMTs placed a sheet over her, as if tucking her in for bed.

But the man knew that was not the case.

---

9/11 is approaching, and I wish I could tell every single person and family that has been effected by this how much I sympathize for them. If I could, I would show each and every one of them my sorrow. Sadly, that is not the case, but I did write this in honor of those lost on September 11th, 2001.

Aww.. this is so amazing.
And R.I.P. all who lost their lives in the terrorist attack on 9/11 <3

[Keriae]

the fireman......the girl

---

The bow hugged the strings of the instrument, velvetine sounds awing the audience into silence. The single girl stood not on a stage, but on the ground, like the rest of the people, the bright white light glaring against her skin, beads of sweat threatening to break from her pores. Her face was knit together in concentration, her eyes flying across the crude notes scribbled across the sheet of music. There was no doubt in anyones mind about the girls talent. She was amazing; like an angel sent down to earth straight from heaven. When she was done, there was a slight pause, as if the whole room was in disbelief that she was done. And then applause. Such applause; the whole office space erupted. It was a beautiful sight. Almost as beautiful as the little girl.

---

The headlines were all the same. "World Trade Center Attacked; Thosands Dead", "Terrorist Attack on America", "Twin Towers No More", "9/11, a day to remember." What had happened that day was so huge, nobody would have been suprised if aliens had landed. The fireman wiped soot from his forehead, his sides heaving from so much labor, and no rest. They had to work all night to pull the last of the survivors from the rubble. Sirens wailed, people wailing alongside with them. It was a symphony of sadness. Pushing away what seemed like a desk, a petite body lay curled up next to a pile of papers and a chair. She appeared to be sleeping, but the man knew that was not the case. He knelt down to pick her up, when he noticed something in her hand. A violin. It was severely mangled, but he could still distinguish the shape. The girl looked vaguely familiar; like someone he had seen before in a dream. He picked the crumpled body up, tucking her head in, and closing her eyelids. He brought her to the sidewalk, and set her down, violin beside her. Watching with misty eyes, the EMTs placed a sheet over her, as if tucking her in for bed.

But the man knew that was not the case.

---

9/11 is approaching, and I wish I could tell every single person and family that has been effected by this how much I sympathize for them. If I could, I would show each and every one of them my sorrow. Sadly, that is not the case, but I did write this in honor of those lost on September 11th, 2001.

Aww.. this is so amazing.
And R.I.P. all who lost their lives in the terrorist attack on 9/11 <3

Agreed to everything you both have said. I don't remember 9/11, but I have been watching documentaries and cried in every single one of them. I feel for all those families who have lost loved ones. May they have been in any of the planes, the twin towers, or the 343 firemen that died on that terrible day.

[alas,]

All of these stories are so good, guys♥ I know we are making our homes proud that they could produce such amazing writers ! c':

@aquamarine; Nice poetry; you rhymed well for a long poem like that. I can never think of any words when I need them OTL
@rainy.day; I love your style of writing. o3o And the way you repeat the phrases in your story is real clever - I love to do that so much - and it graces the text perfectly. :D
@SkySmoke; Late reply is late, but your story is amazing. I can't wait to read more !♥
@wibeke; I had to go rumage through the pages to find your story. And oh God - it was worth it. I am tempted to type in yellow now ~ eue

My muse - once again has returned ! 8D

--

&&
me && you

This isn't my story.

Dancing round the courtyard, hand and hand with the quarterback of the varsity team. He's drop-dead gorgeous - with a clean shave and a buzzcut for hair - and the tuxedo he's wearing only flatters him some more. There are white lights strung around the perimeter of the old garden, and all the wooden benches and tables had been repainted white to better suit our school colors and the spring dance.

Yes .. that's where I am. The school. I couldn't quite remember after being spun around so many times during the slow dances, and bouncing up and down on the fast ones. And these shoes that choke my ankles only make my concentration to them, and how to walk with out murdering myself with a single slip. Honestly, I feel like Cinderella. But I don't have to go, I want to go.

Because this isn't my story.

"You look fantastic," Jason whispers in my ear as we twirl around in circles. I smile for his sake, and nod.

"Thank you." I reply, barely audible.

"Sure, sure," he says after he pulls his head back to really look at my face. I blush a little, not really thinking that I should've since I don't care.

At all, really. I put this make-up on and did my hair all fancy for Mom. When she was little, the family was poor and she couldn't afford a dress. So she was never able to go to dances. I thought at the house I might as well make up for it with me. It worked, but I regret it. I don't want to be called fantastic by some stereotypical boy who probably just wants to lift my dress up and get it over with.

This isn't my story. This isn't me.

"Can we take a break ? I'm dizzy, aha," I blurt suddenly, hoping for another 'sure sure'.

"Oh - yeah ! Sorry, I'm scattered. Too busy thinking about you." He flashes a perfectly white smile and lets go of one of my hands. Using his other hand in mine, I am pulled out of the courtyard into the school.

Too busy thinking about me ? Cheesy.

As I am dragged along to the refreshments, we pass tons of mobs of couples, just like us I suppose. But they are gripping each other and jumping with the pop song that just exploded from the stereos. They're so close, the couples, and the girls are wearing their skimpy little dresses, and the boys in their monkey-suits looking stoned. I'm just glad that I picked a long dress.

"This okay ?" I turn back to face Jason who's pointing at a bowl of what looks like sparkling apple juice. But I know better. It's booze - our school staff lack the supervising skill - and he's grabbing a few cup fulls for himself, gulping them down like air. The school hardly ever has police to help watch the kids, and today our pupils are lucky. The Po-Po are no where in sight.

"I don't drink," I shout over the music, praying that he's taken aback. But he just shrugs and pours the untouched cups of beer back into the big bowl.

This isn't my story. Drinking underaged is illegal.

Suddenly, my eyes hault on a person, another boy. It's my neighbor. I've known him ever since Kindergarten, and we hang out still, in highschool. He stares over towards me and Jason, as if he knows I was watching him. I sort of wave, and he grins a huge, impish smile and strides over to us, obviously coming alone.

His hair is cavorting through the air, curly and about lip length. His walk is simple but sweet, and he seems so relaxed when he does so. His spine arched just so to give him a pleasant look, with hands tucked in his pockets. As he gets closer, I remember his brilliant blue eyes, and icey color that accents his blonde locks perfectly.

"Hiya," he greets happily, almost never dejected. Jason glares at him for a second, deciding whether or not he should beat him or let him say hi.

"Hey man," Jason finally shouts back. They do the guy meet-and-greet hug thing (I've honestly never understood it) and Jason receeds back to my side.

"What's up ?" I ask him. "Looking for your date ?" I add, even though I know that he doesn't have one.

"Nah, came alone. Sort of a downer, but it's alright for now."

Jason sort of smirks at him, glad that no girl is clinging to his side. So I respond, trying to avoid it.

"Well you can chill with us, if you wanna," I offer. Jason's head whips to face me, and it's full of horror. I don't directly look back at him, but I sort of nudge him in the side as if to say cut it out.

"'Kay, thanks," he replies with a head bob.

"Okay, well," Jason begins, "I'm gonna go get a snack."

Right before Jason reaches to grab my hand again, I input: "I'll wait here." He grimaces and leaves, fuming.

"Why're you with him ?" Bur, my neighbor, wonders out loud when Jason's out of sight.

"What ?" I say, giving my brain time to think about the question at hand.

"I know you. You hate this guy. He's not your type, and I swear he'll lay you tonight." Bur speaks, straight and harsh.

"Oh."

This isn't my story.

" .. sooo ?" He persists.

I stay quiet, browsing my head for an excuse. "My mom never got to go to a dance. She couldn't afford a dress; and Jason was the first decent-looking guy to ask me." I know I am pretty, in all honestly, flat out gorgeous. I also know I recieve a lot of attention around the school. From males mostly. Girls don't seem to dig my apperance out of jealousy. I can't be to humble with it.

"That's not like you, either. You don't care about apperances."

This isn't my story.
This isn't my story.
This isn't my story.

I don't know what to say. When I said yes, I didn't know what to say. To make Mom proud, I guess ?

"Zoey." I must've been staring at the ground because Bur reaches out to raise it with my chin. "Why him ?"

I don't want to answer.
I am too scared.
I only started really trying to be pretty.
I don't know what I'm doing.
This is all so new.
How do the popular girls do it ?
I don't want to answer.
I am too scared.
This isn't my story.

Bur pulls me to him, our bodies infinitely close. And there, in my stance, such a perfect time for a little peck on the lips, he hugs me. So tight and warm, but it's also so gentle and fresh. Then I cry. I just explode, sobs racking my body. He places his chin on my head and just holds me there. It's cozy. I don't want to leave.

This is my story.
The story of me and you.

--

asd;fjk fail OTL
this was s'pose to be short and sweet ono
didn't turn out as I hoped OTL

[faraday]

&&
me && you

Very sweet and well written, and thank you<3

@ . Shawna .; thank you, it's a really touchy subject for me, but I'm proud of how it turned out. C:
@ Captain Jade Sparrow; thanks, I'm glad you liked it. n_n

[.a m a r y l l i s.]

Sanctus espiritus
redeem us from our solemn h.o.u.r
Sanctus espiritus
[i n s a n i t y] is all around us
Sanctus espiritus
is this what we [d e s e r v e], can we break free...
from chains of never-ending a.g.o.n.y?

Wow, amazing! This is one of the best stories I've read! It's beautiful!

Sorry for the late-ish reply-thank you so much, I'm glad you liked it so much. I've been in a creative rut lately, so the inspiration for this one was really out of nowhere.

the fireman......the girl

This is such a phenomenal piece of writing...there's nothing I can say about it that hasn't already been said. I'd wanted to write something about it, but I can't just make myself address it.

[micah]

Archive'd.
I was digging through my drafts and found this. It was half done and I swear it wasn't supposed to end like that. |D;; //edit: doubled a word. ono"

[ There once was a story, a silly old tale
Of how a rusty old rose
Blossomed back to health
In the hands of an odd young male ] ...

It started one day when he was sitting the backyard. His back was plastered to the shed and he held a crisp bottle of cola in his hand; sweat was dripping of the tip of his nose and it ran down his forehead. "It's too dang hot for me to be doin' anything anyways," he scoffed lightly. "She won't mind if I slack off jus' a bit."
He continued to sip and think in peace, and eventually slid down and sat. Even in the dog days of summer, he could sit and relax.

" 'Scuse me sir." The voice was small and prim, and sounded a little scratchy. "I was wondering if you could point me to the nearest gas station?"

His eyes opened and he looked at her, clearly confused. "What's a runt like you needin' to go to the gas station for?"

"That's none of your business!" She snapped, vivid eyes curdling with anger. "Just tell me where it is and I'll be on my merry way."

He sighed loudly and rose to his feet to tower over the young girl. Taking a swig of his drink, he wiped his mouth with his arm and extended his other hand. "I'll just walk 'ya there, since there are some less than questionable workers there. Someone's pickin' you up there, though, right?"

"U-Uh, yes, of course..." She twiddled her thumbs, ignoring his gesture to hold hands, and began to stalk off in a random direction. He didn't move an inch.

"The gas station's to tha left, lil woman. You're goin' the wrong way."

She coughed a bit and hid her blush. "I knew that." Twisting her body around she began to walk in the other direction. Now he pried his back from the shed and walked towards her, cowboy boots snapping grass.
He was a very stereotypical man; he wore cowboy boots and a huge belt buckle, his accent was in its prime, and all of the lasses in the town fawned over him. Typically, he would live a perfect life, but this is wrong and he does not.

"What's yer name? You don't sound like you're from 'round here." He laughed slightly. "I'm Mason."

"Rosae..." She looked both ways before crossing a desolate road.

He did a slow nod that she didn't see and told her to go left. Mason tucked his hands partially in his pockets and noticed the new found cloud coverage. He was sure she noticed it and decided not to talk about it again; she seemed to like the silence a lot. And that was quite welcome.
Drops of rain began to peck at them.
Lightning split through the sky.
Thunder laughed after it.

A scream tore through her throat, she collapsed on the shy grass which was muddy now and perfect for planting. His eyes were huge and wide as he fell onto his knees. Cupping her neck in one hand, she smiled before shrinking into dust. It seeped through the cracks that his fingers left and the ground shimmered a bit.
Standing up and stepping back, so aghast he could not think, a rose popped up out of the ground. It was all alone and had no rosebush to accompany it, but there it was, swaying strong.

In light of the creepy events he smiled and decided to lay down next to it, rain sloshing all around. The lightning still cackled and the thunder bellowed as well, but instead he laughed with it.