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    my muse ( Josh ) is your muse's best friend. Your muse and mine are always hanging out, but never at your muse's house. The two hang out in the forest behind your muse's house, sometimes in the treehouse they built, or just in the shadows of the trees. Your muse's family doesn't believe that Josh is real. Josh and your muse have known each other for ten years, at least. They met when they were 7. When your muse was 7, anyways. Josh was 8 at the time. Your muse is forced to go to a psychiatrist, and a psychologist. Your muse's doctor listens to your muse talk about Josh and everything else. But, because of your muse's parents not believing Josh exists, this has built a wall around your muse, which means that your muse doesn't talk to their parents about anything that often. Eventually, your muse starts to get feelings for Josh, which may take a turn for the worst... Turns out that Josh likes your muse as well, but what can your muse say? They're in love with and dating someone that everyone doesn't think exists? No. Yet, your muse doesn't go to school, so that proves a good thing. Your muse can't embarrass themselves. But, when your muse starts questioning Josh's existence, what will happen?

    ;; YOUR MUSE IS 17, MINE IS 18.


    ;; please be semi-advanced/advanced !! your muse can be male or female.

    Josh sat in the treehouse, waiting for [ your muse's name ]. He hummed to himself, looking out the window that had been carved into the wood more than eight years ago. Snow fell from the sky, leaving Josh to feel a sort of... blue-orange-green. Or, fascinated, interested, in 'normal words' He huffed, shaking his head and speaking aloud. "No, Josh... Stop talking like that. [ Your muse's name ] said to speak normally. Stop using colors to describe feelings." He muttered softly. Truth was, he and [ your muse's name ] had made up a secret language, sort of. They used colors to describe most emotions. For Josh, most things were blue-black. Isolated and Melancholy. But, around [ your muse's name ] ? He felt... green-red-yellow. Safe, and sweet. After all, [ your muse's name ] was his best friend. Returning his attention to the falling snow, he slipped over towards the ladder and climbing down. He'd been staying in the treehouse for a while now. It was okay with [ your muse's name ], after all, and he didn't want to return home. His entire house was blue-black. It was horrible. It had been snowing for a long while now, and when Josh dropped from the ladder into the snow, a grin fell onto his lips. He'd never experienced snow before. It was cold. Made him feel... orange-green-purple. Confused. In normal words. He looked up as he saw [ your muse's name ] walking towards him. [ Your muse's name ] seemed to be wrapped up head to toe in warm clothes. Josh grinned, the eighteen year old laughing softly as he walked towards his friend, ushering them softly up the ladder into the treehouse. Josh waited for a word from his friend, not knowing what to say.

    [align=right][fancypost=background: transparent; height: 155px; font-family: arial; color: violet; font-size: 16px; line-height: 10px;]i like to think that [i]nothing's final; [/i]and that [b]everyone [/b]gets to be together even when it looks like they don't, that it all [i]works out [/i]even when all the evidence seems to say [b]something else;[/b] that [i]you and i [/i] are [b]always young[/b] in the woods[i],[/i] and that i'll see you sometime again, even if it's not with any kind of eyes i know of or [i]understand. [/i]i wouldn't be [b]surprised [/b]if that is the way things go, after all— that [i]all things[/i] [b]end happy. [/b]for you and me. [fancypost=font-size: 10px; color: white; height: 15px;]-advanced / selective / active.-[/fancypost][/fancypost][/align]
  • ;; pfft yeah it is

    [align=right][fancypost=background: transparent; height: 155px; font-family: arial; color: violet; font-size: 16px; line-height: 10px;]i like to think that [i]nothing's final; [/i]and that [b]everyone [/b]gets to be together even when it looks like they don't, that it all [i]works out [/i]even when all the evidence seems to say [b]something else;[/b] that [i]you and i [/i] are [b]always young[/b] in the woods[i],[/i] and that i'll see you sometime again, even if it's not with any kind of eyes i know of or [i]understand. [/i]i wouldn't be [b]surprised [/b]if that is the way things go, after all— that [i]all things[/i] [b]end happy. [/b]for you and me. [fancypost=font-size: 10px; color: white; height: 15px;]-advanced / selective / active.-[/fancypost][/fancypost][/align]

    The post was edited 1 time, last by jude. ().

  • [center]

    eames h. viwell !

    [fancypost=background: transparent; font-family: arial; color: #A0B0A8; font-size: 11px; width: 500px; text-align: justify;]"I'll be fine. I don't need help. I don't want help."

    "That's not for you to decide, Eames! Me and your mother are concerned, you know tha-"

    "You have no reason to be. I'm as sane as the next guy... I don't have to explain myself to you anyway. I'm going out."

    Eames pulled the scarf around his neck in a thick, fluffy layer that wrapped its way warmly around his neck. Tugging on a hat to match and his lately pulled out winter coat, he stomped his way to the door. His throat was clenched, muscles tense but there was determination in his eyes. Things seemed to be going much better outside of his house. For all of that, he blamed his parents. They were responsible for this suffocating atmosphere that has taken over their lives - his life. Even now, especially now, he could feel the hawkish glare of his parents disapprovingly standing behind him as they hoped he'd all of a sudden change his mind and remain home. Maybe call that damn psychiatrist himself. Hell, then that psychologist they mentioned.

    They were making him into some kind of a lunatic and he was slowly starting to despise them for it. "Where are you going, honey?" His mother's voice was much more gentle, spoken softly and filled with sickly concern.

    "You know where, mum." He mumbled, voice muffled through the layer of fabric covering his lips. He could almost feel the heartbreak from his own mother at the news, saw his father's own lips part to throw in just another argument before he could leave. Nothing that he gave him time for. With a single, swift swoop, he was out of the door which semi-loudly closed in his wake.

    Red-orange-yellow. In other words, he was fuming and needed something to relax him. That something, of course, being the sight of his best friend. No matter how unhealthy his parents believed the habit to be, thinking of him wandering alone through the forest more than likely, left to his own devices. All the while he was passing time in likely the best company available to him. If only they ever tried to see it that way. Stubbornly, they appeared to refuse.

    The further the distance between himself and the dreaded household, the more the feelings dissipated. He caught his mind where it trailed into the color-emotion coding game they've made up when still young, back when their friendship was in its rightful bloom. His mind cleared of foggy annoyance and changed into a pleasant eagerness as he awaited the sight of their special treehouse ahead of him. The lone sight of it, he knew, would get rid of the rest of the bitterness left from his previous conversation. If that's what it could be called. He waved when it fell into his lie of sight, hoping to catch Josh's attention swiftly.

    Within a flash, he was comfortable up in the treehouse, all bundled up in his winter, warmer clothes. He pulled down his scarf, fixing it around his neck in a way that gave him a chance to speak. "Were you here long? My parents kept me back, I was trying to get around earlier." He said with an apologetic smile.

  • Josh sat there, back against the wooden wall. He gazed around at the furniture in the treehouse. He'd bought that with the money that he'd earned. Tell Eames' parents that he wasn't real, then, he thought to himself, sneering. He furrowed his brows, tapping his fingers in a rhythmic pattern against the wood floor. He smiled upon seeing Eames. "Ah, no, actually. I just got here, a while ago." He flashed another grin. The sight of his best friend made him happy. Really happy. But, when he thought about his best friend's parents... He felt the opposite. According to his parents, he was just another story, that wasn't worth the reading. He didn't exist to them. He was nothing but a figment of their son's imagination. At least, that's what they thought...Oh, how he'd love to break it to them that he was real, but, such a damn shame that he couldn't. He wouldn't bring it up to Eames. "You okay?"

    As those words left his mouth, he stuffed his hands into his pockets. From the outside, the treehouse looked like nothing special. That was good. As the snow fell, Josh couldn't keep his mind off of Eames' parents. It made him think of his own parents, his own family. Everything was blue-black at home. Blue-black seemed to describe most things for him. Isolated and melancholic. He stuffed his hands in his pockets, wishing he could take his younger siblings and run. Run from their mother and father. The father who was too drunk and angry, the father that took his anger out on them. And Josh, the oldest, always stood up for his siblings, always fought back to protect them. That's what he was supposed to do, and that's what he would never stop doing. The mother, who was too drunk to care about what happened. When she was sober, she was a nice person. But that was very rare. Even if he could run away with them, he wouldn't have anywhere to go. He couldn't bring them here, oh, no. Shaking his head, wanting to get rid of the blue-black thoughts, he returned his attention to Eames. Josh never talked about his own parents or family. In a way, he was on his own, and nobody was coming for him. Moving over to the window, he gazed out at the snowfall.

    "Your parents, were they bothering you again?" Josh asked, pulling his hood over his bright red hair. Sometimes, Josh felt like he was watching from the outside, as if he were someone else, viewing the life of someone through clips. But that wasn't the case. He sat up, turning around to face his friend. A childish grin crossed his features, and a look of happiness could be seen in his eyes. He was happy around Eames. To him, he was one of very few things that brought life into his life. Two of the major problems and causes of negativity in his life were his parents, and the fact that nobody Eames' knew believed he existed. Well, maybe Eames' little sister, but he'd never ask. He never liked bringing up the fact that not many people thought he existed. "... Eames. What do you want to do with your life?"

    [align=right][fancypost=background: transparent; height: 155px; font-family: arial; color: violet; font-size: 16px; line-height: 10px;]i like to think that [i]nothing's final; [/i]and that [b]everyone [/b]gets to be together even when it looks like they don't, that it all [i]works out [/i]even when all the evidence seems to say [b]something else;[/b] that [i]you and i [/i] are [b]always young[/b] in the woods[i],[/i] and that i'll see you sometime again, even if it's not with any kind of eyes i know of or [i]understand. [/i]i wouldn't be [b]surprised [/b]if that is the way things go, after all— that [i]all things[/i] [b]end happy. [/b]for you and me. [fancypost=font-size: 10px; color: white; height: 15px;]-advanced / selective / active.-[/fancypost][/fancypost][/align]
  • [center][fancypost=background: transparent; font-family: arial; color: #A0B0A8; font-size: 11px; width: 500px; text-align: justify;]Eames never chose a particularly likable spot in the treehouse. Nothing to call a favorite. It was the general atmosphere that made walking over a pleasure to do so, the hard work that it took in order to bring it there and the homely taste that was fleeting from his life. He loved their treehouse, acting almost like a symbol to him. Retiring to sit cross-legged, his back leaning against one of the few piece of furniture within the house, quite gently as not to stir them. His fingers traveled to his messy hair, drawn around by the breeze outside and filled with tiny specks of white snow that refused to downright melt.

    "Oh, that's good," he smiled up at Josh with sincerity. There was a kind of relief that he didn't miss out on anything important just because he'd have to stay at home. He squirmed at the thought, the thought of his father not allowing him to escape in the manner that he did and forcing him back inside again playing in his mind momentarily.

    This wasn't their time. His parents had their time and they wasted it away on implying he's crazy and attempts at forcing him to admit. Apparently, that being the first step to 'recovery'. The closer he looked at Josh, the more he drew away from the thoughts. How could they doubt that he was real? He stared with a kid-like awe, pride even that he saw something that his parents couldn't. Something special and important in his life. "Yeah, I'm fine. It's nice hanging out with you again." He hummed happily, not minding the implications of such a question.

    For today, he was tired of it. It basically started the whole fiasco. A single flash of concerned looks and a soft-spoken, "Are you okay, son?" during the time it took for him to start preparing to leave, always around the same time.

    Momentarily, he was curious on how Josh must have felt. Eames was pissed, of course. Reserved the right to be. But what must Josh be feeling to know that two important people in his life would simply outright say that he wasn't real. It must be a kind of blow, he supposed, when they've dedicated so much time and energy into their relationship, only for it to be overruled by someone he told him about but that his friend wouldn't even know personally.

    Upon the question, he had to pause for a moment. Eames brought his knees up to his chest, resting his chin on top of them, staring at Josh in a way that would imply he didn't really see him at all. Then, he shrugged, brushing the topic off. "They made something up and now they want to force me into things I don't want to do. They're being absurd, that's all. It'll pass." His words didn't carry a lot of definition behind them, in a way suggesting that he had doubts under that statement himself. Many doubts, to be honest. They appeared to be dedicated now to make his life miserable, using the therapy as a kind of excuse.

    They weren't being very logical with their approach either, never making an outright effort to meet Josh. It came suddenly and might have been one of the reasons for his own harsh reaction. He knew that they didn't mean wrong for him but it was an overnight decision that burst into things suddenly and with the force of a hurricane.

    Eames was swept off his feet.

    The second question, however, got him laughing softly again, beaming up. "Well, that depends, work-wise, school-wise, life-wise? You know, I don't really think I know the answer to any of that, even if I tried to come up with something. Plans fail all the time, so maybe it'd be safer not to make any. That's professionally, at least." He tapped his fingers on his knees thoughtfully, taking another second to fully make up an answer.

    "Same applies for school, I supposed. I don't want to go anywhere further than I'd need to. Mostly, I just want to stay friends with you. Suppose that's what I'd like to do for a start. I can think of everything else as we go along then. We could. Together." He spoke almost childishly of the dream but remained plenty dedicated to it. Eames didn't want their friendship to falter, not for another long time and not because of what was happening now. He trusted they'll just overcome that and he'd get his wish granted.

    Hell, their way was pretty much clear. He was home-schooled, there wasn't much to stop him from not going on further. On the other hand, even home-schooled, he could probably get into university somewhere. Somewhere.

    Studying Josh's face carefully, he leaned in to inspect him a bit closer, a curiosity alight in his gentle-colored eyes. "What about you? What would you like to do with your life?" He asked, tone naturally filled with interest and matching, childlike glee at the sight of each other, the conversation taking place. A conversation everyone he knew would think was between himself.

  • Josh said nothing for a while, staring at the floorboards. He didn't know what he wanted to do. He really didn't. Closing his eyes as he rested his arms on his knees and his chin on his arms, he sighed. "I don't know." He admitted, "I really don't..." He shrugged, opening his eyes and looking away.

    "Together?" He repeated Eames' words. "What are you suggesting? What do you mean?" He was confused. He lifted his chin, gazing at his friend. "I've always wants to be a musician, I guess? Being a drummer sounds cool." He shrugged once again, knowing his dream was hopeless. He wanted to aim high. But not high enough that he could never get there.

    "I want to be able to help people. I'm too young to do that now. But, I think, when I get older, I can do just that. I believe, anyways. But, you know, when I can, I'm getting tattoos. One, they're cool. Two, people won't take advantage of me that way.

    Josh fell silent once again. He knew how to play the drums, pretty well, at that, but he would never show Eames. Not unless he asked. And he hoped he didn't. What he really wanted to do was be able to help his family. His mother and siblings. He could care less about his dad. He sat up, arms crossing,, like a child when they pout. He pushed himself to his feet. Stretching, he let out a yawn, pushing his hoof off his head and zipping up his coat. "No. What I really want to do, is show them that I'm real." By 'them' he meant Eames' parents. He narrowed his eyes a bit, making his way to climb down the ladder. He liked snow, at times. It was pretty to look at, but cold to the touch. It irritated him.

    The red-haired male waited for Eames to follow him, looking over at him as he did so. Walking over to his friend, he pulled Eames' hood over his head. "Follow me, we're going for a walk." He didn't know why he wanted to, or where they were going to go, but he wanted to get out of that treehouse. Sometimes, he regretted leaving his house. He returned, a few times a week, but he just... Didn't like it there. "Doesn't matter what I want to do with my life. As long as you're there beside me, it's okay."
    ;; hella rushed bc I'm tired and my iPod is about to die !!
    ;; pfft forgot to mention this is the backup to the josh dun acc above ( aka me ) oops

  • [center][fancypost=background: transparent; font-family: arial; color: #A0B0A8; font-size: 11px; width: 500px; text-align: justify;]"I want us to be friends, to be close like we are now. Not to grow apart just because my parents would like that." Eames shrugged, not sure how to tackle the problem laid in front of him. It was enough simply knowing that he wanted to keep Josh close, still be friends and still trudge to their designated spots whenever he got bored or lonely.

    He beamed slightly at the suggestion, not with a mean-spirited smile that would ridicule the dream, but rather with a bright, curious one. He was meekly aware that he's never heard Josh play before but that didn't necessarily bother his faith in him. If he wanted it, he may just become a drummer after all. Everything like that seemed to just take an occasional larger effort. Nothing that he wouldn't assume he was more than capable of.

    "Tattoos?" He repeated with brief amusement, eyeing him as if to imagine him bearing the tattoos anywhere on his body, huffing softly. "Doesn't sound like a bad idea. None of it does." Eames hummed in a sort of approval. He couldn't see himself ever getting a tattoo personally, mostly afraid of the pain of the needle digging between skin tissue.

    His expression contorted when his parents were thrown in the mix.

    It would take a bit of effort to do that. He's been relentlessly trying for six months now and he has, officially, ran out of ideas on how else to approach the topic. "If we manage to convince them. The important part if that I know you are." He shrugged lightly, a smile slowly returning onto his features. Steadily, his faith in the concept of his parents acceptance of the friendship was slowly dying. Flickering like a candle left under the wind. For all its worth, he focused on Josh alone and keeping their own friendship alight. With or without his parents' approval.

    Eames doubted anyone ever went into a feud with their parents over something as stupid as this. And he was growing tired of it. When Josh stood up, he watched him with obvious curiosity, and when he began to move outside of the treehouse, the younger boy went to follow. He heaved himself back up to his feet with a weak sigh, stretching muscles that decided to fall asleep on him during his brief period of rest.

    With that, he climbed down the ladder and landed on the snowy ground below them, admiring it for a second or so before looking back to his friend once more. He felt the tug on his hood and peered at him through the tip of it that fell over his face. His face already picking up the bickering cold, turning a pink rosy color around the cheeks.

    "Sure, where do you wanna head?" He asked, glancing around them. He stuffed his hands back into his pockets to possibly prevent them from freezing into icicles by the time they got anywhere. A grin inched its way across his face at the statement and nodded slowly in agreement, sighing and watching a small cloud of water vapor fill the air in a small puff.

    "I'll always be here for you."

    ((ahh its fine, i only just woke up a while ago myself so this might not be my best))