Your CS Pet Pairs? (NEW THREAD)

[whoopsydaizy]

[Albion Cyril x Aaliyah Radient]

"I love your eyes."
"I love your paws."
"I love your ears."
"I love your tail."

"I love your heart."

"I love you."

Aaliyah grinned, like the puppy she was.
"Can you spy my secret desire?"
she asked Albion.

"You."
said Albion.
"That's mine, anyways. You."

----

[Madelene x Adron]

"Are you going sailing, Adron?"
"Yes."
"How long will you be?"
"Forever."
"Can I come with you?"
"Noone but you."

[silverfox24]

and

[Grace(:]

Sam-♂-----------------------Pompeii-♀

I'll do a story!

The knight walked in like a solder, all straight and listening.
Pompeii looked at him as he placed his helmet on his head.
She watched him stare at the other's with a look saying 'Don't make me go!'
Sam watched the princess as she looked straight back at him.
They had known each other for a long time and felt the love that day.
Pompeii didn't want him to leave her, with the chance he may never come back.
Sam walked closer to the princess. "I will see you soon. I promise." The words came out of his mouth.
"No. You can't leave. What if you never come back!" The princess said, waiting for a response.
But it was too late, he had already left.

[Nanorat]

Kinda... obvious

[Zeee]

marie & tobias
ribbon & tinsel

♥

[Moon Moon]

Glasgow ♂ x Dean ♂

Quick note; this story is with humanoid versions of these pets. I know that it's a lot but even at this point I feel like there should be more, please give suggestions!
I don't want critiques per-say though.
Anyways these two have had stories posted before. No idea how many thread ago though Hope you all like it!

Small Whites - Dixeia - Oil on Painted Wings

That is where the painting hung.

The lighting was perfect; specifications sent along side the piece, “bright but not too much so, the level must reflect the emotions but not overwhelm the colors,” were followed beautifully to his request. The canvas did not set center stage in the gallery because that would feel unrealistic, pretentious, and rule out the true purpose of what he was trying to accomplish.

Glasgow did not usually stand beside his own paintings. If he stood there too long people would suspect him of being important or, on the occasion that a true art-shark visited his gallery openings, he did not want to give the impression that he was trying to overbear his own creation. But tonight was different. He could not bring himself to care about the other patrons or if some critic saw it fit to critique him instead of his talents. He was not looking to woo a potential client or create a revolutionary form of art or expression. It was about the painting and the person it was dedicated to.

In fact, hung on the wall before him was an almost cliché scene. A small field of warm green, living with opulent butterflies; their diaphanous wings painted some in melancholic and others in sunlit tones. They almost had a shimmer about them as if their pixie dust coated wings might twitch or flutter in a breeze, and if you touched their surface you might too capture some of your own happy thoughts.

To say Glasgow was not proud of the work would be a lie. When he looked beyond the frame into the oil painted scenery with its frail fey insects a soft smile always teased him away into thoughts of some day long passed.


The breeze, spring scented sprig and daffodil, ruffled the pages in his hands with a morning chill- traces of waning winter nights. It made him shiver even as he sat on the open, sun soaked knolls in the university quad. He had left his dorm room feeling fearless of the ebbs of cold still in the air, leaving without a sweater in a simple shirt and pair of well worn slacks. Still, trembling in the frosty weather, he concentrated on his task. The pages of verse that he was shifting around; moving a page from the front to the middle, a middle sheet to the back, and perhaps thinking better of his revision to move a page back now and then, had been his part-time project since late last semester. The whole thing was really nothing special; a few pages of work set aside here and there that held some meaning to him. The most difficult part had been slowly siphoning out works that lost their ability to spark emotions after how ever many reads.

What had been left was only to find the perfect form of organization, to give life to each one, to make a poem in the very order of the pages.

Satisfied he bumped the stack of papers against his thigh, aligning them evenly, a methodical action that gave him a moment to pause.

“Glaz!”

Hearing his nickname called out loudly from behind, caused him to start out of his fleeting silence, papers slack in hand were crunched up a bit when nerve endings twitched in name recognition.

Glasgow glared silently up at the new-comer, letting his hands leisurely smooth out the rumpled pages before responding.
“Dean are you out of class early… did you go?” Glasgow quirked a dark brow at him accusingly, mirth glimmering around the corners of his golden stare and the crinkle between his nose and eyes; knowing the jibe would ruffle Dean like Dean had caused him to crumple his pages.

“Glaz,” a whine evident in Dean’s voice, the smoothed over southern draw pitching up in tone, “Of course I went to class.” Glasgow had to admit to himself that Dean had been improving in his studies, albeit he was also loosing more and more free time, and a bit of that happy spark he used to almost always have about him. Glasgow set down the stack of poems, glare letting up softly. Taking his chances Dean sat beside him, lightly nudging his shoulder with his own, and silently asking for forgiveness.
“I brought that hole-puncher you were asking about.” A tinge of a smile lifted his sulk, he knew Glasgow well enough to foresee the impending dismissal of all charges.

Glasgow leaned into Dean, dramatically wrapping his arms around him to pull them tightly against each other only to nip sharply at his ear. He pulled away, snatching the office supply from Dean’s hand, a wickedly satisfied smirk turning up the corners of his lips.

Dean gasped at the sharp sensation that sent a tingle down his spine, and reached up to sooth the offended ear, rubbing his thumb and forefinger over the lobe. He found Glasgow to be both frustrating and endearing in some of the most unlikely situations; now for example, between a bought of banter and arts and crafts, Glasgow found it timely to tease him.

As Glasgow worked at his task of punching holes through the pages of his poetry book to start his binding Dean watched in silence. His eyes drifting down to follow the extra bits of circular paper as they fell like flower petals into Glasgow’s lap. The dusting of them along his pants grew like a snowy field, blanketing him softly as the last few rounds fluttered down. A comfortable silence settled between them on the slightly dewed lawn. Glasgow worked quietly at weaving a length of ribbon crisscross up the side of the pages to bind them together, the touch of a smile lifting his normally stoic expression.

While Glasgow worked Dean laid back on the grass, sleepless nights of studying catching up on him in his first down time. It was cool and calm, most of the other students harbored away in the cells of education gifting Dean the rare chance to simply spend a moment with Glaz. The last thing he wanted was for Glasgow to worry about him but he just didn’t know how much longer he’d be able to keep up with his classes. He didn’t have the heart to ask for anymore help when it never felt like enough and left him with a foreboding sense that he would prove his family right. Above anything else he would do whatever he could to never look back, at least not until he stood on his own two feet.

With heavy lidded eyes he watched the final tie being made at the very top of the book of poetry, decoratively miss-matched lengths of ribbon draped down from the bow in tendrils. His eyes shuttered half way closed as he fought to stay awake, not wanting to miss out on their time together.

If it had not been for the breeze that picked up around them Dean might have accidently slipped into sleep but for the cold caress of wind across his exposed face that made him shiver awake. His eyes caught sight of Glasgow and saw hundreds of white flecks dancing about him. “Butterflies so early in spring?” He murmured in a sleep heavy jest.

A slow dopey smile lit his face as he watched the motes of paper butterflies surround him. The awe in Glasgow’s slightly parted lips and curious eyes as his gaze followed from piece to piece was unguarded, the simple moment braking down some invisible wall Glasgow held the world behind, Dean included.

“I’ve never seen a living butterfly before.” Glasgow’s eyes met Dean’s, the tiny papers between them caught up again and scattered away.

Somewhere inside Dean was not surprised by the statement. He could not question it, could not ask him if, possibly, there was a time when- maybe he had forgotten them. They never spoke of their pasts, only once after they had gotten into a fight that proved how little they knew about each other. Curled up together on a single dorm room bed Glasgow cried for how Dean’s family had all but disowned him, while Dean watched the smaller form in his arms through tear hazed eyes. What Glasgow told him about his past suck him like barbed wire; a younger boy growing up in one way house after another deep in the slums of the city their university now bordered, trying desperately to get the love his mom and dad either didn’t or couldn’t give. He had never even stopped to think that all of their visits into the city could have left Glasgow shaken. The city was a harsh place, all concrete and staggering buildings in between dirty slums. Sometimes it was hard to picture any color in the drab inner city with its lifeless inhumanity; it was impossible for Dean to imagine a fragile butterfly living in the smog of industry.

“They are intoxicating, watching them in a summer yellowed field, knowing that every year they will be there, all new shimmering wings in field dust.”

“You’ll have to show them to me someday.”

For Dean he knew that someday he would have to return to the place where he had grown up, Glasgow only made it more important that he make sure that he found his path in life sooner rather than later. If there was anything beautiful from his past he wanted to share it with his golden eyed lover, trying to fill the old hurt with some form of magnificence, even if it came in the form of a dusty farmhouse and a countryside full of delicate butterflies.

Glasgow held their eyes fixed to each others’ for a second longer before dropping his away from Dean, looking back over the quad a small, tan anthology resting slack between one palm and his black slacks.


“It’s perfect; I can almost smell the parched fields.” Glasgow looked back over his shoulder at the person behind him and smiled broadly. “I never did get a chance to show them to you.”

Leaning back into Dean, Glasgow rested his cheek on Dean’s uniform lapel.

“There will be another summer, with a Dixeia blanket and baked skies.” He got a hum of agreement in response as they stood together facing the oil painted canvas, ignorant of those that passed by them in that art gallery on that fading, warm summer night.

[Briony]

Briar ---------------------------------------Best Friends------------------------------------------- Amalia

"Amalia?"
"Yeah?" The two puppies were lying on their backs, looking up at the stars as they glimmered in the navy sky that stretched for many a cosmos.
"We'll always be friends, won't we?"
"Duh, Bri. Why would you think we wouldn't be?"
"Okay. Forget I asked." An uncomfortable silence fell over them afer Briar's reply; they refused to look the other in the eye.
Best friends forever?
But when does forever end?

[chewwy]

Briar ---------------------------------------Best Friends------------------------------------------- Amalia

"Amalia?"
"Yeah?" The two puppies were lying on their backs, looking up at the stars as they glimmered in the navy sky that stretched for many a cosmos.
"We'll always be friends, won't we?"
"Duh, Bri. Why would you think we wouldn't be?"
"Okay. Forget I asked." An uncomfortable silence fell over them afer Briar's reply; they refused to look the other in the eye.
Best friends forever?
But when does forever end?

Amazing <3

[Briony]

Briar ---------------------------------------Best Friends------------------------------------------- Amalia

"Amalia?"
"Yeah?" The two puppies were lying on their backs, looking up at the stars as they glimmered in the navy sky that stretched for many a cosmos.
"We'll always be friends, won't we?"
"Duh, Bri. Why would you think we wouldn't be?"
"Okay. Forget I asked." An uncomfortable silence fell over them afer Briar's reply; they refused to look the other in the eye.
Best friends forever?
But when does forever end?

Amazing <3

Thanks, but it's not that good! Just wanted something to post

[Keriae]

It was something I had hoped would never happen. Something I had been forced to do because of the current economic problems. Something which I knew I would regret. There I was, my short, messy hair spread out over the leaf litter, small twigs and scraps of said leaves that could only just be found in the snowy forest resting in said hair. Above me, pinning me to the floor, looming over me with his shadow cast across my frame, was a snatcher. The lead snatcher. The one every knew.

Orion.

His name sent tingles down my spine, and when I said the name, it rolled off my tongue like butter melting on a crumpet. Smooth, delicious. I savoured it every time.

His cool, liquid amber eyes drew me in almost unwillingly until I lost myself, full of a floating feeling like I was supported by water, drifting freely but not too far. His wild, unruly ginger hair, of which contained two, lone deep brown streaks blowing gently in the wind that filtered through the forest. He was studying me. Studying me like a predator studying prey.

No, I hadn't been snatched. Rather, it was the total opposite. What with the Dark Lord taking over and needing people to find the scum that called themselves wizards and witches, he had employed people to hunt them down, in exchange for money. Lots of money. This was a test. A test to see if I was fit enough to become a snatcher, to become one of them. But I was afraid. I was afraid that I had failed. When he had paced in front of those of us trying out, I hadn't listened to a word, just watched him as he moved, making note that it was very feline, very sly, very cunning. His voice had soothed me despite the fact I wasn't listening to the words, and I had had to resist the urge to leap at him and place my lips over his own. How I wanted to feel them moving against my own passionately, sensing the love he held for me. I had known him at Hogwarts, being just a year younger than him, and admired him from a distance, seeking his love even then, wishing that he would turn his devilishly handsome self to look at me just long enough to see me, truly see me. And now I had a chance to get closer.

So here I was, back against the frozen ground, his boot-laden foot pressing me firmly down, my heart thumping so loud I was certain that they could all hear it as it fought like a woodpecker to escape my chest. Even then, I was loosing myself in his features repeatedly. It wasn't until one of the others cleared their throat loudly and clearly that we remembered where we were.

He jolted back to reality, and I noticed he played with that fanged necklace around his neck (no doubt a trophy from a chase) as he removed his foot from my stomach, but didn't help me up. No, it was another wanna-be snatcher who held out his hand and pulled me to my feet as Orion turned his back to me, wild hair drawn into a loose ponytail to keep it from his face when in pursuit. It swayed as he moved and walked forwards, pacing then turning sharply to gaze at me, the hem of his long bottle green, almost black leather jacket swirling. Everyone was watching him expectantly, awaiting his decision as his orbs swimmed with thought, making the final judgement while I cleaned my clothes of the cold dirt and grime that had clung to me as I ran, ducking under branches and leaping over fallen logs in chase of the snatcher who was acting as a blood traitor.

"Well," His voice almost made me swoon, and I had to stand very still, my slender fingers clenching and unclenching as I waited for him to continue, respect shining in my own eyes. "It seems like we have a few new recruits."

It was much harder than I thought it would be, training through the long hours of sunlight and the thick blackness of night. He kept us going every day, no matter what the weather was like. Running through forests, through towns, across wind-swept moors, startling rabbits as we went. And when we weren't running, we were dueling. Paired up with more experianced snatchers, a different one every time, sending curses at us as we tried to counter them. I kept my eye on Scabior throughout these training sessions as they grew rougher and more dangerous, determained to prove everything that I was to him. And I'm sure that at one point, he stared right back.

It was the same as before. We were mezmorised by each other, and I could feel my heart speed up in my chest. My grip on my wand slackened, and there was a flash of red, but I hardly noticed my now tap-dancing feet until I was hit with another curse and I relalitated, my face flushed a merry marroon colour.

I'd ruined everything. Everything in that one moment. I'd be kicked out, or worse, killed for my moment of unfocus. I'd never have the chance again.

He continued advancing around the well-trodden clearing, eyes carefully studying each new snatcher in their small duels, assessing them as he went. I tried desperately to focus, but my mind had different plans, and kept drifting. So I slapped myself mentally, and a sigh of relief shook through my body when he announced we were done for the day with that task. It felt like something was lifted from me and I hastily followed as we retreated to the tents and wolfed down the small meal that we were only allowed every day, the energy returning to me.

Then we proceeded to re-enter the forest to try and increase our stamina. Days of hard, cruel training was already having it's effect on my body. Before, I was a fast sprinter, like a cheetah. Now I was becoming a runner, easily keeping up for a longer amount of time each time we ran. Whenever we ran, he did seem to hold some respect for me, which was the only good thing so far to come out of this predicament.

It was late into the night when we finally returned to the camp. As new recruits, we never had a tent to ourselves, but shared a large one, with a different snatcher every night to keep an eye on us, but it was always right in the center, as if to protect us. Not that we needed it. Snatchers were feared in Britain. Every witch or wizard that was a Mudblood or Blood-Traitor was scared out of their wits of us, and it was best to keep it that way.

How wrong we were.

It was dark. Very dark. Midnight dark. We couldn't see a thing. There was no light penetrating the tent, and only the senior snatcher and I were up. I couldn't sleep, which was a strange occurance. Normally, I could sleep soundly, all through the night. Which was why I had resigned to sitting up by the entrance, helping to keep watch. This wouldn't happen on any other night, but recently things were starting to relax a little, as our intergration into the group was nearly complete.

A shadow, a sillouette, loomed out of the dark frames that were the trees ahead. It was moving fast, bent double as it ducked under the low branches of a young beech tree. It never slowed down, but as it came closer, we were able to make out what it was.

A Death Eater.

We could only guess why. As no snatcher currently bore the Dark Mark, except Fenrir, who was somewhere out in the forest, no doubt snacking on a deer. But it was early morning of May the 1st, and we had no idea of the significance.

As the figure stopped in front of us, kicking up a small amount of dirt. His sides were heaving, his breathing hard as he tried to calm down, to breath properly.

"The Dark Lord wants you at Hogwarts. Now." He panted, then spun on the spot, a familiar crack splitting the silent, still air. The Dark Lord? Wanted us, at Hogwarts? He didn't even go there. He hadn't gone to the legendary school since he had taken over the Ministry. It had to be something important.

We both leapt to our feet, and I didn't need orders to go and wake up the rest. I didn't even shake them. I just pulled out my wand and levitated thm, breaking the spell so they landed on the hard floor with loud thumps. They rumbled, but as soon as I explained everything, they rushed around to get dressed like bees in a beehive. I, meanwhile, went to wait by the tent entrance. A fire had been lit, so the bright orange flames flickered, spreading light across our clearing. Orion was there, the other snatchers beside him.

I jogged over, nodding respectfully, and took my place while the others trailed behind me, yawning but looking excited.

"As you know, a Death Eater called by not five mintues ago. We're wanted at Hogwarts. We'll apparate to Hogsmeade, as the wards as still in place around the school We'll meet the Dark Lord and see what the plan is from there." He explained, his ginger hair looking all the brighter. He stood, his tall frame towring over us, and spun around, disappearing just like the Death Eater.

We quickly followed him in the crushing darkness that was apparation.

A fresh breeze hit me strongly as we stopped spinning and arrived in the wizarding village. Despit the fact I was resising the urge to puke, I glanced around, glad that the alarm hadn't gone off. Orion was walking ahead, seemingly unfazed by our method of transport. Swallowing, I picked up my feet, running after him.

Once I reaced his side, all was silent. As we walked along the deserted, empty street, more and more snatchers appeared beside us, all from different group. I knew they were snatchers because they were all wearing a piece of red cloth around their upper arms, signfying what they were. By the time we had reached the school's gates, there had to be a hundred or more of us. The gates, flanked by stone winged boars, opened with a creaking sound, and we continued on our way.

Not that we got far. As soon as we were a good three feet into the grounds, Death Eaters surrounded us, leading us toward the Forbbidden Forest. I shivered violently. I'd never liked the black forest, it's tall trees forbidding, warding me away. But no one else showed any fear, so I held my head high, breathing deeply in an effort to calm myself.

The Dark Lord himelf was waiting for us. He quickly briefed us on what was going to happen, and sent us on our way. We were to go to one of the bridges, and swamp the school with our numbers before starting to duel.

Then we were running down the slope from the Forest, towards the wooden bridge with a stream running underneath it. Scabior, the head snatcher, one rank above Orion, was in the lead, heading the battle cries. Orion himself was right behind him, but as we ran, two snatcher overtook them, and disintergrated with flashes of bright blue and white light. Scabior and Orion stopped suddenly, their arm wide. It seemed the teachers of Hogwarts had turned against us.

And on the bridge was a lump of a boy. He stood at the edge, yelling at us, while Scabior raised his wand, a piece of fire drifted across. Orion's face turned to one of rage.

"Yeah! You and who's army?"

Scabior and Orion lifted their right feet, slowly over the border line as the wards disintergated. When they made it safely, we rushed forwards, causing the boy to turn and flee along the bridge. We shot curses at hm, wanting to hit him and make him fall, leaving our path clear. He, of course, turned around and shot a spell at us.

It missed.

But the bridge was collasping. Now we no longer ran to kill, but ran to live. Our battle cries changed to cries of terror and the bridge caught up with us, and we plumetted downwards.

Somehow, we didn't hit the ground. No, we hit the stream. Spluttering, my head emerged from the fast flowing waters, and I struggled to breathe, spitting out river water. Others' heads were also emerging, and I looked around, fear welling up inside me as I thought of Orion. That was when I spotted his lifeless form half in, half out of the water.

Swimming the best I could, I limped out and collasped by his side, only just seeing his sides moving. He opened those wonderful liqud amber eyes and gazed at me while I thumbled for my wand, finally realising I must have lost it in the fall.

His hand moved towards me and cupped my cheek that was bleeding from a piece of splinted wood.

"You've been a wonderful snatcher..." He rasped, pulling me close. His lips met mine in a sizzling kiss that filled me with warmth, and died away when it ended. But I stayed beside him as his breathing stopped, and his life left forever, joining those who had already been lost.