Your CS Pet Pairs? (NEW THREAD)

[F r o z e n.R a i n]

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Sandstorm


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Firestar

The old ginger she-cat curled up in her nest, sighing.
Remembering. The thing that hurts more than aching bones,
illness, or hunger put together. Remembering him.
"Firestar.." she murmured. Her beloved mate had died many moons ago. now Sandstorm was an elder,
and the oldest cat in the clan.
Sandstorm felt the pain claw at her heart. Sighing again, she laid her
pale ginger head down and slept.

Light. When Sandstorm opened her eyes, there was light.
A shimmering spark was coming towards her. It glowed Light fire
in the strong moonlight. The shimmer got closer, and Sandstorm gasped as she saw it was a cat.
But not just any cat. "Firestar! My beloved!" She yowled and raced to him.
The loving mates nuzzled each other, and Firestar fixed his green gaze on her.
What passed in his gaze was all the secrets of the stars, wisdom beyond belief, and
pure love. "It is time" was all the flame colored tom cat said, as he and Sandstorm padded off into the glittering stars.


Just a warriors fanfic of when Sandstorm gets old and dies.
This is how I imagined it, since it didn't happen in the series.

That's great! XD I always hated Sandstorm and still do, actualy, but this is great all the same X3

[Squishy Fishy]

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Sandstorm


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Firestar

The old ginger she-cat curled up in her nest, sighing.
Remembering. The thing that hurts more than aching bones,
illness, or hunger put together. Remembering him.
"Firestar.." she murmured. Her beloved mate had died many moons ago. now Sandstorm was an elder,
and the oldest cat in the clan.
Sandstorm felt the pain claw at her heart. Sighing again, she laid her
pale ginger head down and slept.

Light. When Sandstorm opened her eyes, there was light.
A shimmering spark was coming towards her. It glowed Light fire
in the strong moonlight. The shimmer got closer, and Sandstorm gasped as she saw it was a cat.
But not just any cat. "Firestar! My beloved!" She yowled and raced to him.
The loving mates nuzzled each other, and Firestar fixed his green gaze on her.
What passed in his gaze was all the secrets of the stars, wisdom beyond belief, and
pure love. "It is time" was all the flame colored tom cat said, as he and Sandstorm padded off into the glittering stars.


Just a warriors fanfic of when Sandstorm gets old and dies.
This is how I imagined it, since it didn't happen in the series.

That's great! XD I always hated Sandstorm and still do, actualy, but this is great all the same X3

Thanks! I never really liked sandstorm, but she was the only one who could fit with my story line XD

[Lennie]

{alright so I know it's not common to post stories with songs in different languages, but this Japanese song was the inspiration to a degree for this story. Here's the song: Some may enjoy listening while reading
And here's a site with translation for the song. site
hope you guys like the story. ^^;

拝啓　この手紙読んでいるあなたは　どこで何をしているのだろう
十五の僕には誰にも話せない　悩みの種があるのです
未来の自分に宛てて書く手紙なら

The blank paper was laid out neatly on the table, the only crinkle showing where the paper had been touched. The ink pen beside it seemed to mock the author as he glanced down, tears welling in his eyes as the paper gained a new blemish of a tear stain, which he quickly wiped aside. Picking up the pen gingerly, he set the tip to the paper the letters being written streaking as the stain of the tear trailed away the ink but he didn't care. He didn't care about anything at all.

The tears stained his cheeks as he glanced down at the paper. I'm sorry I that I stole your life from you. I'm sorry you didn't get to live your dream. And I'm sorry that you're burdened with me. Turning away from the paper, he quickly closed his eyes tightly to stop the tears, and he threw the pen harshly against the opposing wall, only opening them to the sound of a shatter. Allowing his tears to flow again, he fell to the floor, falling beside the shards of glass that remained of the mirror that had stood just moments before.
Seven years bad luck. He'd already caused so much more.

きっと素直に打ち明けられるだろう
今　負けそうで　泣きそうで　消えてしまいそうな僕は
誰の言葉を信じ歩けばいいの？
ひとつしかないこの胸が何度もばらばらに割れて
苦しい中で今を生きている今を生きている

Picking up the pen again, he didn't dwell on the fact he was bleeding, and stood up again only to hear shouts down below. Standing beside the door, he felt the tear stains on his face strain his expression, and he glanced down at his bleeding hand and began to frantically try to wipe away the blood. Sliding down to the floor once more, he began to cry once more, feeling weaker and weaker by the moment, knowing his emotions couldn't take much more.
The shouting only grew, and at a momentary pause which was followed by a crash and a resounding scream, he glanced up, wiping his nose roughly with his sleeve.

Walking out of his room with his pen still clenched in his blood stained hand, he did the one thing he should have done so many years before. Grabbing the half empty bottle of alcohol, he shattered the glass against the source of so many years of pain before helping up his mother who had fallen to the ground, much like he had, so many times before. Running upstairs and grabbing just a handful of money from the jar of meaningless hope, he grabbed just the tear stained paper before taking his mother from the pain, and saving himself as well.

ああ　負けないで　泣かないで　消えてしまいそうな時は
自分の声を信じ歩けばいいの
いつの時代も悲しみを避けては通れないけれど
笑顔を見せて　今を生きていこう 今を生きていこう

It was weeks before the paper was met by pen again, but this time the boy had a smile as he wrote. Hope now had meaning, and he had reason to see a light in his future. Something that had never existed for him before.
--
A man who appeared to be no older than eighteen leaned against a wall, his dimly lit room managing to cast light just upon his face. His eyes trailed up from the faded ink on the wrinkled note, a smile crossing his face as he looked at his reflection in the mirror. His smile greeted him, as did the warmth and joy in his eyes.
"You did good kid. You did good."

拝啓　この手紙読んでいるあなたが

幸せな事を願います

[aquamarine]

@Lennie - be a little more talented, I dare you

♥♥♥

[vixiebun]

A night to remember


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Rustina a girl was walking home when all of a sudden she spotted a boy she ran to him thinking he was hurt are you ok she asked far from the boy replied what happend my dad hit me what you should tell your mother thats just it i have none she died after i was born dad blamed me for everything thats why he hits me well um matrix is my name matrix like the movie yea cool my names rustina come on my mom will patch you up no i got the simply responded see wow well do you play tag ok lets play after an hour playing it was getting dark i have to go home now she said sadly but ill come back tomarow matrix ok ? Ok bye rustina as rustina entered her home her mother scolded her and asked where she had been i was with matrix matrix her mother smiles must be an imganeairy friend the next as rustina left for school she picked up the local news paper extra extra read all about cannibal father eats his son raw rustina saw the mutated body of the boy it it was matrix hes gone she cryed and up in hevens the angels moured the poor boy but he was in a better place with his mother ... Rustina never forgot that night ...

REST IN peace matrix


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[seattle]

Part one
Part two

Tay x Bandit
even the best can go bad

Tay breathed in and out, her whole body trembling, swearing that her heart would leap out of her corset. Ten years. Ten years since she had last seen him. Ten years in prison just so he could be hung.
What did they charge him with? Years of breaking and entering, years of stealing, and oh, worst of all: kidnapping.
Tay had done this to him. Somehow she was forced into picking a side that she wanted to rot in the Wastelands.
It was all so he could survive, and Tay ruined it. She killed him.
She picked up her fan and flapped like crazy, sweeping her hair off of her shoulders. She was too hot and tired to do anything else.
For ten years she had held this guilt on her shoulders, for ten years every time she breathed was like breathing ash. Ash of betrayal.
Her maid adjusted her dress, gibbering on how Tay was finally receiving justice, how they're finally getting this dangerous criminal off the streets for good, et cetera, et cetera. It was all Tay could do not to slap that women.

A while later, before Tay knew it, they were riding off in a carriage to see her beloved die. And no words left her lips.
Their seats were among the the highest ranks, as the king and queen wanted no special treatment this time around. They had a very clear view of what was going to happen, and Tay wanted to kick them both. This was beyond any horrid dream she had since the night Bandit got taken away.

Bandit knew he was going to die. He knew it all along. He breathed in and out, and his breath wasn't even shaky. He wasn't trembling. There was no fear inside of him. There was nothing left inside of them.

Tay could see the person doing the hanging. Her cousin.
What a surprise.
She crossed her arms, tapping her finger. Why couldn't they just get it over already?
"Peter Thomas Williams..."
Tay loved a man that she didn't even know his real name until his death day.
At this time Bandit was in view, stepping up on the wooden board with complete confidence. Tay wondered how he managed in all, but noticed as soon as he looked at the hanging man Bandit's face got red with anger.
The general went on in monotone about Peter's crimes and what he was charged with.
Tay's whole body was shaking with emotion, sweating under the sweltering heat of the summer day.
She couldn't take it anymore.

Bandit felt nothing. Peter. He remembered hating that name so that it was forgotten all together. The man went on and on, but Peter felt nothing, heard nothing, saw nothing...
Until Tay decided to rip apart the threads of her seemingly picture perfect life. Peter's heartbeat grew faster.
The crowd gasped in unison as Tay pulled a long, shiny sword. Before he knew it, Tay had cut the rope free.
She held him hostage, screaming at to the crowd, "This man! Yes, this man... He made my life worthwhile," before she whisked him away, running to the shore and into the trees.

People were yelling in horror, screaming, but the only ones who were silent were her parents.
And Tay was alright with that.
She ran ahead of Peter, sharp sticks whipping her face before she ran so far that she collapsed on the forest floor, unable to breath.
"I hope you know that you just ruined your whole life."
Tay squinted at the panting man, his hands on his knees and sweat dripping from his forehead.
"But that's where your wrong. I just made my life a whole lot better."
Peter was silent for a long time, until Tay spoke up.
"So your name is Peter?"
Peter only nodded.
"I like that name."
Without looking at her, Peter said, "That's who I am. Peter."
Tay laughed and grabbed his hands, looking into his eyes.
"No. You'll always be Bandit."

Thank you for the nice comments for part two. c:

[vixiebun]

You desvire it stella & dot

Foreve in your heart



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Im reandy to die she said to him he just stode there fine then she said ill take my own soul she grabed the reapers wepon and held to her neck He came out of the trace what hey thats my job well it took long ehough she said handing his reaper wepon back now quick and easy no he said strening oh for petes sake ill do it myslef she grabed his wepon and killed her sled her soul went see wasn't that easy now let us go in to the underword he just nodded and wisp them away into :hell:

The end


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[spike.]

if you like this story, let me know -- i have an idea for part 2. ouo

i am the anomaly.
tiny, stunted, shunned at birth, dolled up with pretty golden thread and cold jewel eyes, nobody wants me.
at least, they wanted me at first.
i watched them all from the corner of the shelf -- kids with sticky-lollipop hands and chocolate lips tugging their moms to the store window and pointing through the glass at my "brothers and sisters".
we were, after all, the newest craze. pocket pets, i think they called us. the idea was that we were small enough and flexible enough to fit in a pocket. our fur was made with oh-so-real yarn. our ears were set in identical triangular folds to mimic real cats' ears. they made us for years. i was part of the second batch shipped to this store, so i learned quickly.

"when a kid walks by," they whispered, glancing around to make sure nobody was listening, "pout as much as the thread can handle. keep your tail straight up. balance on one front paw."

we weren't alive, but they made us 'posable', so the kids could have 'hours of fun'. we were the toy to have.
at least, my "brothers and sisters" were.

"here, honey, look at this cute kitty," a mom cooed to her daughter. "isn't it adorable, Phoebe?"
the girl's caramel ringlets swung gently, lifting the scent of strawberry shampoo to my shelf.
i stiffened myself, pouting as hard as i could.
suddenly, the thread snapped. my mouth, a black string, gently floated down to rest just in front of the girl's mary-janes.
"but, mommy!" the girl lisped. "look, it'th mouth ith mithing."
she grabbed my nearest "sibling" and skipped off to the checkout.

it's been like this for years. somehow, for some reason, they made me not as strong as my "brothers and sisters". new batches came and went almost as quickly. on the tiny tv on the checkout man's desk, i watched a news report on us --- we were the "wildfire trend". as soon as there was nothing left to burn -- as soon as no one cared about pocket pets anymore -- we fizzled out.

i don't know how long i've sat here. years, i think. my posable limbs are stuck in one position, the one i was assured would get me a home. my eyes are criss-crossed with scratches, now a murky, dusty gray. my fur is matted with dirt and spiderweb trails. i'm so tired.
nobody wants me.
nobody wants me.
i stare at the clear plastic packaging and choking hazard warning of action figures lined up in a row in front of me, listen to bright, cheery theme-tune music, and watch shadows flit in front of harsh yellow light occasionally as someone walks past.
nobody wants me.
nobody wants me.
nobody even knows i'm here.

suddenly the action figure is shoved aside and a curious, heart-shaped face stares into mine. a young girl, maybe 12, with eyes that match mine.
"oh my god," she whispers. "you're kidding me. a pocket pet?"
her hair. i know it from somewhere. long, long curls, but the shampoo's all wrong...
"hey, guys!" she shouts over her shoulder. "come see!"
a entourage hurries up to the girl's side.
"what, Phoebe?" squeaks a tiny blond boy, trying to see to my shelf. i shy away instinctively.
nobody wants me.
nobody wants me.
don't can't won't get my hopes up.
"look, Tyson!" the girl grabs me and shoves me in the boy's face. "a pocket pet cat! the ones i told you about? remember? i used to have one!"
Tyson frowns. "it looks sad. and yucky."
i wilt away in Phoebe's hand.
"yeah, Phoebe, i think it has fleas." the girl on Phoebe's other side laughs. "god, who knows how long that thing's been here? they died out years ago. we should put it in the trash or something."

Phoebe.
the girl who almost bought me.
i am suddenly lost.

"hey, i'm gonna buy it, okay? just for old time's sake."

i don't even fully hear the checkout man's comment about how he can't believe there was one left in the store.
collectables. valuable. even though...poor condition...
i am a dusty, broken toy bundled up in a paper bag. i am thrown in the back of a car. i tumble out, falling to the floor next to a huge stuffed cat.
i strain my shattered eyes to see better. yes, this is a huge stuffed cat. not a real one. i sigh, staring at the irregular, unrealistic patterns in its fur.

"hi, i'm Princess. what's your name?"

the cat's stitched mouth doesn't move, but i hear it anyway. i try to open my mouth to reply, but the string is gone and i think i was built without a voice.

"speak with your heart, not with your muzzle."

i try to find it in me to talk. i try to find my heart and not my muzzle.

"i...don't have a name."

the cat cocks her head. "wow, you're pretty beaten up, right?"

i stiffen.
nobody wants me.

Princess shrugs. "oh well. i'll look after you."

i fall asleep on a pillow of fake fur.

[cujo.]

if you like this story, let me know -- i have an idea for part 2. ouo

i am the anomaly.
tiny, stunted, shunned at birth, dolled up with pretty golden thread and cold jewel eyes, nobody wants me.
at least, they wanted me at first.
i watched them all from the corner of the shelf -- kids with sticky-lollipop hands and chocolate lips tugging their moms to the store window and pointing through the glass at my "brothers and sisters".
we were, after all, the newest craze. pocket pets, i think they called us. the idea was that we were small enough and flexible enough to fit in a pocket. our fur was made with oh-so-real yarn. our ears were set in identical triangular folds to mimic real cats' ears. they made us for years. i was part of the second batch shipped to this store, so i learned quickly.

"when a kid walks by," they whispered, glancing around to make sure nobody was listening, "pout as much as the thread can handle. keep your tail straight up. balance on one front paw."

we weren't alive, but they made us 'posable', so the kids could have 'hours of fun'. we were the toy to have.
at least, my "brothers and sisters" were.

"here, honey, look at this cute kitty," a mom cooed to her daughter. "isn't it adorable, Phoebe?"
the girl's caramel ringlets swung gently, lifting the scent of strawberry shampoo to my shelf.
i stiffened myself, pouting as hard as i could.
suddenly, the thread snapped. my mouth, a black string, gently floated down to rest just in front of the girl's mary-janes.
"but, mommy!" the girl lisped. "look, it'th mouth ith mithing."
she grabbed my nearest "sibling" and skipped off to the checkout.

it's been like this for years. somehow, for some reason, they made me not as strong as my "brothers and sisters". new batches came and went almost as quickly. on the tiny tv on the checkout man's desk, i watched a news report on us --- we were the "wildfire trend". as soon as there was nothing left to burn -- as soon as no one cared about pocket pets anymore -- we fizzled out.

i don't know how long i've sat here. years, i think. my posable limbs are stuck in one position, the one i was assured would get me a home. my eyes are criss-crossed with scratches, now a murky, dusty gray. my fur is matted with dirt and spiderweb trails. i'm so tired.
nobody wants me.
nobody wants me.
i stare at the clear plastic packaging and choking hazard warning of action figures lined up in a row in front of me, listen to bright, cheery theme-tune music, and watch shadows flit in front of harsh yellow light occasionally as someone walks past.
nobody wants me.
nobody wants me.
nobody even knows i'm here.

suddenly the action figure is shoved aside and a curious, heart-shaped face stares into mine. a young girl, maybe 12, with eyes that match mine.
"oh my god," she whispers. "you're kidding me. a pocket pet?"
her hair. i know it from somewhere. long, long curls, but the shampoo's all wrong...
"hey, guys!" she shouts over her shoulder. "come see!"
a entourage hurries up to the girl's side.
"what, Phoebe?" squeaks a tiny blond boy, trying to see to my shelf. i shy away instinctively.
nobody wants me.
nobody wants me.
don't can't won't get my hopes up.
"look, Tyson!" the girl grabs me and shoves me in the boy's face. "a pocket pet cat! the ones i told you about? remember? i used to have one!"
Tyson frowns. "it looks sad. and yucky."
i wilt away in Phoebe's hand.
"yeah, Phoebe, i think it has fleas." the girl on Phoebe's other side laughs. "god, who knows how long that thing's been here? they died out years ago. we should put it in the trash or something."

Phoebe.
the girl who almost bought me.
i am suddenly lost.

"hey, i'm gonna buy it, okay? just for old time's sake."

i don't even fully hear the checkout man's comment about how he can't believe there was one left in the store.
collectables. valuable. even though...poor condition...
i am a dusty, broken toy bundled up in a paper bag. i am thrown in the back of a car. i tumble out, falling to the floor next to a huge stuffed cat.
i strain my shattered eyes to see better. yes, this is a huge stuffed cat. not a real one. i sigh, staring at the irregular, unrealistic patterns in its fur.

"hi, i'm Princess. what's your name?"

the cat's stitched mouth doesn't move, but i hear it anyway. i try to open my mouth to reply, but the string is gone and i think i was built without a voice.

"speak with your heart, not with your muzzle."

i try to find it in me to talk. i try to find my heart and not my muzzle.

"i...don't have a name."

the cat cocks her head. "wow, you're pretty beaten up, right?"

i stiffen.
nobody wants me.

Princess shrugs. "oh well. i'll look after you."

i fall asleep on a pillow of fake fur.

{Lovely, Hope you do write part two and post it.

[spike.]

if you like this story, let me know -- i have an idea for part 2. ouo

i am the anomaly.
tiny, stunted, shunned at birth, dolled up with pretty golden thread and cold jewel eyes, nobody wants me.
at least, they wanted me at first.
i watched them all from the corner of the shelf -- kids with sticky-lollipop hands and chocolate lips tugging their moms to the store window and pointing through the glass at my "brothers and sisters".
we were, after all, the newest craze. pocket pets, i think they called us. the idea was that we were small enough and flexible enough to fit in a pocket. our fur was made with oh-so-real yarn. our ears were set in identical triangular folds to mimic real cats' ears. they made us for years. i was part of the second batch shipped to this store, so i learned quickly.

"when a kid walks by," they whispered, glancing around to make sure nobody was listening, "pout as much as the thread can handle. keep your tail straight up. balance on one front paw."

we weren't alive, but they made us 'posable', so the kids could have 'hours of fun'. we were the toy to have.
at least, my "brothers and sisters" were.

"here, honey, look at this cute kitty," a mom cooed to her daughter. "isn't it adorable, Phoebe?"
the girl's caramel ringlets swung gently, lifting the scent of strawberry shampoo to my shelf.
i stiffened myself, pouting as hard as i could.
suddenly, the thread snapped. my mouth, a black string, gently floated down to rest just in front of the girl's mary-janes.
"but, mommy!" the girl lisped. "look, it'th mouth ith mithing."
she grabbed my nearest "sibling" and skipped off to the checkout.

it's been like this for years. somehow, for some reason, they made me not as strong as my "brothers and sisters". new batches came and went almost as quickly. on the tiny tv on the checkout man's desk, i watched a news report on us --- we were the "wildfire trend". as soon as there was nothing left to burn -- as soon as no one cared about pocket pets anymore -- we fizzled out.

i don't know how long i've sat here. years, i think. my posable limbs are stuck in one position, the one i was assured would get me a home. my eyes are criss-crossed with scratches, now a murky, dusty gray. my fur is matted with dirt and spiderweb trails. i'm so tired.
nobody wants me.
nobody wants me.
i stare at the clear plastic packaging and choking hazard warning of action figures lined up in a row in front of me, listen to bright, cheery theme-tune music, and watch shadows flit in front of harsh yellow light occasionally as someone walks past.
nobody wants me.
nobody wants me.
nobody even knows i'm here.

suddenly the action figure is shoved aside and a curious, heart-shaped face stares into mine. a young girl, maybe 12, with eyes that match mine.
"oh my god," she whispers. "you're kidding me. a pocket pet?"
her hair. i know it from somewhere. long, long curls, but the shampoo's all wrong...
"hey, guys!" she shouts over her shoulder. "come see!"
a entourage hurries up to the girl's side.
"what, Phoebe?" squeaks a tiny blond boy, trying to see to my shelf. i shy away instinctively.
nobody wants me.
nobody wants me.
don't can't won't get my hopes up.
"look, Tyson!" the girl grabs me and shoves me in the boy's face. "a pocket pet cat! the ones i told you about? remember? i used to have one!"
Tyson frowns. "it looks sad. and yucky."
i wilt away in Phoebe's hand.
"yeah, Phoebe, i think it has fleas." the girl on Phoebe's other side laughs. "god, who knows how long that thing's been here? they died out years ago. we should put it in the trash or something."

Phoebe.
the girl who almost bought me.
i am suddenly lost.

"hey, i'm gonna buy it, okay? just for old time's sake."

i don't even fully hear the checkout man's comment about how he can't believe there was one left in the store.
collectables. valuable. even though...poor condition...
i am a dusty, broken toy bundled up in a paper bag. i am thrown in the back of a car. i tumble out, falling to the floor next to a huge stuffed cat.
i strain my shattered eyes to see better. yes, this is a huge stuffed cat. not a real one. i sigh, staring at the irregular, unrealistic patterns in its fur.

"hi, i'm Princess. what's your name?"

the cat's stitched mouth doesn't move, but i hear it anyway. i try to open my mouth to reply, but the string is gone and i think i was built without a voice.

"speak with your heart, not with your muzzle."

i try to find it in me to talk. i try to find my heart and not my muzzle.

"i...don't have a name."

the cat cocks her head. "wow, you're pretty beaten up, right?"

i stiffen.
nobody wants me.

Princess shrugs. "oh well. i'll look after you."

i fall asleep on a pillow of fake fur.

{Lovely, Hope you do write part two and post it.

thank you very much. ;w;