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Post by Maximillian Goof on Apr 14, 2010 8:07:53 GMT -5
  - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -While we're being completely honest, Max just wants to say, for the record, that this 'ditching of work' is totally legit.
He works pretty hard normally, doing this and that and blah and blah for Mr. Holmes, and he doesn't take bullshit if he doesn't deserve it, and he keeps out of the way because his luck normally means he'll knock over something that-should-not-be-knocked over. He even gives up days off for the sake of his work, and if the academy were some kind of basketball team, Max is absolutely sure he'd be chosen for MVP.
Okay, fine, maybe not MVP, but an almost-MVP. Max has no sense of athletic ability whatsoever, other than skateboarding and maybe-basketball, and he'll probably be trampled on court after the first five seconds. No joke. Not at all. He's being completely serious, here.
Nonetheless, said ditching of work occurs in the nurse's office. When Max enters, he smiles sheepishly at her, trying his best to look like he really needs some rest - and he's about to open her mouth when she tells him to keep his trap shut. "I know. Being Mr. Holmes's assistant is probably difficult," she says, and Max blinks; wondering whether this woman has been a victim of said teacher's eccentricities. He smiles, however, and nods. Thankfully, he moves towards one of the beds, before the nurse stops him again.
"We have to take your temperature, Max," she continues, and who is Max to complain? It's a code, or something, standard operating procedures bull; and he sits obediently and takes the thermometer in his mouth, watching her scribble down his temperature. He then crawls into the nearest bed, snuggling under the covers, making himself comfortable. And boy, he's happy, having this suddenly almost-unattainable free time.
Hopefully, though, nothing's going to keep him even from this. Knowing his luck, something probably will.
[/size][/font][/blockquote][/blockquote] - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - S tatus: finished the post! bwaha!
T agged: anyone~
W ords: 311. super short, i know. i'll make it longer next time~
O utfit: clothes. bah. i'll link later.
N otes: tired max is tired.. SO GO BOTHER HIM 8D
C redit: template by Marv of A Thousand Fireflies
L yrics: Here By Me by 3 Doors Down
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Post by Basil Holmes on Apr 14, 2010 8:47:04 GMT -5
 
Basil was agitated.
He did indeed need his assistant today (disregarding the fact that he always believed the boy below him). But he was an assistant for a reason! He assisted the detective. Assisted him with books, cleaning, helping him teach. All of that was very important, thank you very much. Of course, he could definitely do without him, absolutely. But Matthew or whatever his name was wasn't getting paid to skip work!
He hurried down hallway after hallway, tie askew and coming steadily undone on his chest. His hair was particularly messy, naturally thanks to running his hands through it. Yes, one could call him stressed, but indeed, he was without any help, and class time was to be starting quite soon. This just wouldn't do, not at all.
Rounding another corner, Basil, like every other room he passed, stuck his head inside the threshold. Pursing his lips, he marched into the interior and, coming to a stop before a sickbed, crossed his arms.
"Mr. Gregorson, may I inquire as to why you're here instead of doing your job?" he asked eyebrows raised, "Because I was under the impression I had an assistant. As such--"
Basil broke off abruptly, gaze snapping away to stare at the nurse's oak desk.
"Excuse me," he muttered, just loud enough to be heard by the nurse, "You seem to have termite damage, Miss.." he glanced at her name tag that read "Somerville". "Miss Snoggrass. I'd get that taken care of if I were you."
Glancing back at Michael, Basil's fingers drummed along his arm. "Well?" he asked, not politely though not exactly as rudely as before, "Are you coming or not?"
[/size][/sup] FOR ,, [/color] purr~ <3 WORDS ,,[/color] 261 STATUS ,,[/color] complete! WEARING ,,[/color] a disheveled suit. EXTRA ,, [/color] Hope this was k~ I had fun. ;3[/size] [/blockquote][/font] [/size][/font][/color][/center] |
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Post by Maximillian Goof on Apr 14, 2010 9:10:52 GMT -5
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - Max's eyes are growing heavy, and his eyelids flutter closed - a look of utter bliss on the boy's face. It's not often that he gets such wonderful amounts of rest, and the bed is so warm, and it's so soft, and so comfortable, and--
The sound of rushing footsteps makes Max want to cringe. He draws the blankets further over his head, praying to whatever god existed that he or she or it would increase his sleeping time just a little more, but it's official. Those footsteps are hard, and firm, and absolutely sure of themselves. It's obvious to Max that it's his superior - and it scares him that he can tell he's coming just by the sound of his footsteps. Max is hoping the simple white blanket can keep him from being noticed, but he can swear the man has some kind of super sensitive sense of smell, because the footsteps are coming closer to his bed and he was just so close to finally being able to get more than ten minutes of sleep.
Y
[/color][/size]es, Mr. Holmes noticed him, and Max cries inwardly because this is what always happens. The older man's gotten his name wrong, again, and Max peeks from under the covers, dark brown eyes heavy, and the only parts of him sneaking out, along with the top of his head. "It's 'Goof',"[/color] he mumbles, both tired and frustrated, and then he hears the other speak to the nurse as if she's simply a toy; and Max sits up, rubbing his eyes. He depicts vulnerability at this stage, and he turns his head, looking at Mr. Holmes through sullen eyes. "[/color][/b] You could have at least let me sleep for ten minutes, Mr. Holmes," he murmurs, falling back onto the bed and moving the blankets over his eyes. "Because now you have to wait ten minutes. I'm not getting out of this bed, even if Judgment Day's coming."[/color] Max has never been this firm before, and he knows that his superior who could fire his ass at any time hates waiting - and he knows that he's risking his job right now, but at this point in time, with him tired and frustrated and just not in the mood, Max really couldn't care less. Mr. Holmes could do whatever he wanted - as long as it did not interfere with Max and his beloved, the lovely maiden named 'Sleep'. [/size][/font][/blockquote][/blockquote] - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - S tatus: COMPLETE.
T agged: basil, the bastard >D
W ords: 404, bby.
O utfit: loose light blue shirts, baggy jeans. striped black and blue socks. black and blue checkered vans.
N otes: max is rebellioussssss!
C redit: template by Marv of A Thousand Fireflies
L yrics: Here By Me by 3 Doors Down
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Post by Basil Holmes on Apr 14, 2010 11:47:43 GMT -5
Tapping his foot, Basil continued to gaze at the lump on the bed. His mind was reeling from the slight agitation of having to walk all the way to the nurse's office, just to be given lip.
"It's 'Goof'," comes a muffled sound. Was that the boy talking? Either way, he said something awfully strange. What about a goof?
"This isn't the time for "goofing" around, Matthew!" he cried, hands thrown up in the air, "It's time to go!"
Basil was honestly flabbergasted. What could the boy possibly want from this room? Termite damage, a leaking faucet in the bathroom if his ears served him correctly, and worst of all a nurse who just seemed..too nurse-ish! Exactly, too nurse-ish. Far too nurse-ish for Basil's taste.
"You could have at least let me sleep for ten minutes, Mr. Holmes."
At this the detective's lips twist into a sort of half-pout, half-scowl. It was Mike's own fault that he didn't sleep that night. Basil was prone to not sleeping for days and nothing was wrong with him!
"Because now you have to wait ten minutes. I'm not getting out of this bed, even if Judgment Day's coming."
A moment of silence reined before Basil let out an exasperated breath of air. Really, he was never this difficult as a child. Possibly. Maybe? Now he thought on it..
"Perhaps I was rather obnoxious back then," he muttered, one slender index finger tapping on his cheek, "And I did have a nasty habit of hiding when class started. I did much prefer to read, didn't I? Hmm.."
Blinking, Basil glanced once again at--Mallory, was it?-- and pursed his lips one more.
"Fine," he snapped, taking a seat on the edge of the boy's appointed bed, "Then I'll wait right here. We both need to be present, you know." Crossing one leg over the other and both arms over his chest, Basil closed his eyes and stuck his nose in the air; the perfect model for defiance.
[/size][/sup] FOR ,, [/color] purr~ <3 WORDS ,,[/color] 326 STATUS ,,[/color] complete! WEARING ,,[/color] a disheveled suit. EXTRA ,, [/color] The hardest part was actually thinking of incorrect names to call Max. X3[/size] [/blockquote][/font] [/size][/font][/color][/center] |
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Post by Maximillian Goof on Apr 14, 2010 21:32:54 GMT -5
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - M
[/color][/size]ax wants to roll his eyes at the way this man treats him, as if he's some Grade F trash. Well, okay, so Mr. Holmes has his moments of complete fuckery, and then he has the moments where you can't help but admire him and maybe even love him a little. Max just really can't resist having to wonder why the moments of complete fuckery happen so much more when it involves him. Mr. Holmes is a busy man - Max knows. But Max is a human too, and he has feelings. Apparently said feelings don't matter much, because Mr. Holmes is ranting again and getting his name wrong. He groans and tries to curl into a ball under the sheets, tries to ignore the older man who's acting so much more like a child than normal, but it's difficult when said older man is speaking more than his father. "Max,"[/color] he mumbles absentmindedly, eyes screwed shut, heart pumping excessively. "My name is Max, Mr. Holmes."[/color] T[/color][/size]he nurse is just shaking her head, trying to stay out of this. Basil Holmes is a man you-shall-not-piss-off. Max figures that she'll be letting him sleep in her office a lot more if she survives this little fight. It's not like this isn't something predictable; Max has had a whole lot of moments like this with his superior, and he's pretty much used to it. What he's not used to is the fact that Mr. Holmes is listening him, the fact that Mr. Holmes isn't dragging his sorry ass out of bed for his own personal sake. It's a scary thing, to see a sudden change in him, and Max peeks a little out from under his blanket, just to make sure, and sees him seated on the bed; looking like a regular primadonna. H[/color][/size]e's actually a little surprised that Mr. Holmes is still here, waiting for him, albeit looking like your regular stereotypical bitch. Max can't stop the smile growing on his face, and he goes back under the covers, hiding his actually almost-joyful self from the other male. "You're actually going to wait for me?"[/color] he murmurs from where he is, tone still expressing fatigue, but also a little bit of sentimental touched-ness, and something like surprise. Fatitouchedprise. Max didn't think that such a tone could leave his lips, anyway. Then again, he didn't think Mr. Holmes would just sit there, trying to wait. And he didn't think he'd be able to sleep a little, either. He's already dozing off, not waiting for an answer, not really sure if he has the bravery to accept whatever answer is given. M[/color][/size]ax's breathing evens out, and he's completely at ease. [/size][/font][/blockquote][/blockquote] - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - S tatus: done and done!
T agged: mistah holmez
W ords: 447!? BAHAHAHAHA
O utfit: loose light blue shirt, baggy jeans. striped black and blue socks. black and blue checkered vans.
N otes: moved max is moved. bitchy basil is bitchy. annoying alliteration is annoying.
C redit: template by Marv of A Thousand Fireflies
L yrics: Here By Me by 3 Doors Down
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Post by Basil Holmes on Apr 17, 2010 9:47:37 GMT -5
"My name is Max, Mr. Holmes."
"Whatever," Basil replied with an air of indifference. Marcus' name was of no 'real' importance. He was just his assistant ("gradually getting on his nerves" assistant), but Basil would wait if necessary.
Granted, it's no secret that the teacher abhors waiting. He likes fast-paced situations, no breaks, and most certainly no interruptions. Unfortunately, the only solution he could think of at present was blackmailing the boy with his job, and tell him it's his duty to show up lest he lose it.. But Basil may be rude, but he's not cruel. He understands the need for a job, and he doesn't exactly hate Mathias..But he does hate waiting. Which is what he's doing. Which he hates.
"You're actually going to wait for me?"
Glancing at the boy, Basil twisted his lips slightly, before heaving a quiet sigh.
"Yes, I'll wait for you," he replied, not exactly bitterly but not quite nicely either, "But ten minutes! Ten minutes is all."
He doubted Mr. Galloway heard him though. Judging by the relaxed features, his steady breathing, and his hand curled into a small fist, he was already sound asleep.
Giving a small huff, Basil turned away to stare at the opposite wall, before resting his chin on a palm. If he were honest with himself, Basil was never able to fall asleep that quickly. More often than not, the times he actually attempted it, he tossed and turned for several hours before he managed it. The sheer capacity his brain liked to think was, at times like those, problematic. On occasion he'd even curse his mind for not shutting up, so loud and busy it was. But naturally, he wouldn't be able to do the things he loved, would he? If he was ordinary.
Glancing back at Michael, the detective tilted his head. Ordinary. He was ordinary, lying there, peacefully asleep, his mind at peace with little to no worries, no creeping villains on his mind..
Shaking his head, Basil glanced at the clock above the nurse's desk. Blinking, the teacher looked to his side again.
"Mr. Goldsberry!" he cried, a hand reaching out to shake the boy's shoulder, though that would of course need..touching. Deciding against it, he continued. "Mr. Goldsburry, ten minutes have passed!" Standing up with a hurry, the man reached into his satchel and pulled out a sherlock pipe, and, with a click flick of his wrist, lit up the match before placing it inside the bowl. Giving a few puffs, he turned back to the nurse and gave charming smile in response to her scowl.
[/size][/sup] FOR ,, [/color] purr~ <3 WORDS ,,[/color] 400 STATUS ,,[/color] complete! WEARING ,,[/color] a disheveled suit. EXTRA ,, [/color] >D <3[/size] [/blockquote][/font] [/size][/font][/color][/center] |
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Post by Maximillian Goof on Apr 17, 2010 20:28:33 GMT -5
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - Maximillian, lately, has been having a string of dreams.
M
[/color][/size]ost of them involve him attempting to do something right, though that something is undetermined and is never attained. Most of them involve him running through a corridor, turning wider and longer with each step, with tears dripping down his face at the frustration, with the soles of his shoes worn clear through and his feet beginning to bleed. Most of them have no-one to help him in these situations. This dream was different. This time, someone was reaching out. Max was so ready - so ready right there to give his hand as well - but then the person pulls back and he trips, and a pit opens up and swallows him, and there's darkness and fear and fire; and he's screaming, falling, dying--- "--ten minutes have passed!"[/color] The obnoxiously almost-hated (but not quite) voice rings through his ears, and Max's eyes flutter open, him sitting up and rubbing his eyes. They're possibly late for class, but Max isn't particularly troubled. The more they're late, the less he has to work, and that's just something that could play in his favor - considering the fact that he could run right back into the nurse's office and hop into bed. Without Mr. Holmes (although him being there may be a little enjoyable) to bother him. The man's already smoking his pipe, and Max rolls his eyes at the oddness of this action being something predictable. He slides out of bed, feet falling into his shoes, and walks towards the detective, slinging his arm absentmindedly across his shoulders (though perhaps a small part of him just felt like pissing Mr. Holmes off); and flashing a grin at the nurse. "Thanks, Ms. S. Sorry this guy had to trouble you so much,"[/color] he says, almost-cheerful, before walking out and pretty much dragging his superior with him. Behavior such as this would surely get him fired, this Max is certain of, and if it doesn't, then that means there isn't total contempt for the boy. That Mr. Holmes actually, in a twisted way that was un-Basil-like, needed him. Well, okay. It's obvious he doesn't enjoy his presence very much, and that he'd probably do heaps better if Max simply didn't exist, but there are other reasons. Max doesn't even realize the tear rolling down his cheek as an aftermath of his dream, grin still on his face and now beginning to seem like something made out of plastic. [/size][/font][/blockquote][/blockquote] - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - S tatus: done and done!
T agged: buhzeel
W ords: 414 :|
O utfit: loose light blue shirt, baggy jeans. striped black and blue socks. black and blue checkered vans.
N otes: bawwwwwwwwwwwwwwww
C redit: template by Marv of A Thousand Fireflies
L yrics: Here By Me by 3 Doors Down
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Post by Basil Holmes on Apr 18, 2010 20:29:19 GMT -5
Basil gave something akin to a triumphant, though sarcastic, smile at the immediate response he received from Mr. Maryweather. It seemed he wasn't getting soft in his old age (because 25 means a whole quarter of his life is gone. And oh, think of the magnificent discoveries he could have made before his adolescence! He truly did waste a significant amount of time on useless speculation and interrogations..Looking back, finding girls' dolls really didn't mean as much now. And--
A rather undignified and, if he did say so himself, embarrassing sound came from the detective's mouth. He was pulled close to another's body as an arm casually (of all the nerve!) laid itself of his shoulders.
His mind was a bit in shock because of this unexpected (which is really ridiculous because he always expects exactly that) physical contact. It was alien and foreign and just strange. Basil's mind didn't kick in for a few moments more until he was already being dragged out the door. Giving a purse of his lips and a narrow of his eyes, the teacher politely, though sternly, removed the arm from around his shoulders.
Basil cleared his throat and, without saying a word, sent a pursed-lip look towards the boy. He calmly straightened his clothes and, nervously, ran a hand through his hair, causing it to stick at odd angles.
His expression dropped slowly however, due to the slight gleam of moisture on the boy's cheek. Giving a surprised look, Basil's eyes traced the wet path it made and if he wasn't mistaken--yes, it came from his eyes. Ha! Some shame aught to be good for the little rebel.
But.. With a sigh, the man clicked his tongue and, with a shake of his head, spoke up.
"Why are you crying, mister...Gooch." God he was so bad at being nice, "It's, really not a big deal, old chap."
Basil knew he was to receive hell from the headmaster, being so late again.
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Post by Maximillian Goof on Apr 18, 2010 20:58:56 GMT -5
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - Max doesn't really find the heart to roll his eyes at the immaturity radiating from his superior, his arm hanging loosely by his side; his hand lifting the collar of his shirt to wipe away the suddenly noticed tear. If he's lucky, then Mr. Holmes wouldn't notice it - but luck never necessarily plays in Max's favor, and it's close to a hundred percent that this kook notices things. And, God, Max was right - he can feel eyes on him and he has to bite on his lower lip. There's still that complete, mesmerizing and frightening fear; lacing itself into his system, rendering him numb and cold. He's been able to keep it under wraps for a while, this nightmare, the fear of falling completely into the domains of those who have no future whatsoever, of those who have no fate, but right now - with the detective speaking to him, sounding like he actually cares; it's difficult, per se, not to express this. Max's heart stops and he tries to change the subject. He manages a smile, and it's a brave one, trying to dismiss everything.
H
[/b]e swore to be strong. "[/size][/b] I'm not. It was just that thing you get when you just wake up, you know? Where you're raw and your eyes tear up from suddenly opening after being closed," he answers easily, having lied about this a million times to his father, and yet never quite feeling the amount of guilt he felt right now. This is the first time in a billion years Mr. Holmes has expressed something other than frustration towards him, and Max is putting it down. He rubs the back of his neck, absentmindedly looks at his watch, laughs nervously, in a way that could only express something akin to fear of being fired. H[/color]e has to fix the kinks in his act. Mr. Holmes is not as gullible as his father. "[/color] C'mon, sir. We've been late too many times to afford another one. Sorry for wanting to sleep. Shouldn't have stayed up so late playing video games," Max says, grinning, and yet his eyes ache to release tears. Truth is, video games isn't what he focused on the night before, but he spent the night with books over his head, trying to balance them while walking. Naturally, he failed. Max's body just isn't made for balance and equilibrium. But he tried, and slept at one in the morning, and woke up at five to clean all the materials necessary for Mr. Holmes' class. M[/size][/b]ost people would tell him to quit trying so hard, but Max won't listen anyway. He stuffs his hands in his pockets, a completely normal action for him, and begins to walk along the hallway - not bothering to look back to see whether Ba-- Mr. Holmes is following or not. He doesn't necessarily feel like looking at anyone, right now. [/size][/font][/blockquote][/blockquote] - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - S tatus: done and done!
T agged: ba-- mr. holmes
W ords: 483, baha.
O utfit: loose light blue shirt, baggy jeans. striped black and blue socks. black and blue checkered vans.
N otes: this is what happens when fluff is involved
C redit: template by Marv of A Thousand Fireflies
L yrics: Here By Me by 3 Doors Down
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Post by Basil Holmes on Apr 18, 2010 21:15:28 GMT -5
The obvious lie made Basil's left eyebrow twitch. He never liked the truth being concealed. Especially in a case. And while this wasn't exactly a case.. Well the wellbeing of his assistant was important. Yes, should he be emotionally unstable, it was Basil's duty to ensure he gets a recovery. It was professional concern.
A slim hand slipped into the detective's breast pocket before extracting a embroidered handkerchief. He slowly lowered his arm and, with even more hesitant, held it out to Matthew in an offering. Or..maybe he should just use it himself to dry his cheek? Oh, heavens no, far too personal. The very idea made Basil's spine shiver. Contact was not a favourite thing of the man's.
This time an opportunity to leave? Oh, this was clear avoidance. Something was clearly bothering the boy and caused an emotional reaction out of him. Granted, Basil didn't exactly know the extent of Michell's sensitivity, and though it pained him to deal with potentially over dramatics, Basil was going to help. Because he's a good person. Sometimes.
Giving a soft sigh, Professor Holmes folded his arms in front of his chest.
"It's fine," he replied softly, quickly dismissing the attempt at running, "It's happened enough times, I'm sure one more will have very little attention. Now.." he paused at this, not sure where to go on. Basil carefully slipped a single white glove off his hand and began to wring it slowly.
"You're obviously lying. And I can't let you teach in an emotional state. So you're just going to have to tell me," Basil finished with a definitive nod of his head.
[/size][/sup] FOR ,, [/color] purr~ <3 WORDS ,,[/color] 267 STATUS ,,[/color] complete! WEARING ,,[/color] a disheveled suit. EXTRA ,, [/color]Caring Basil is caring.[/size] [/blockquote][/font] [/size][/font][/color][/center] |
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Post by Maximillian Goof on Apr 18, 2010 21:53:32 GMT -5
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - Any attempts at comforting right now would make Max go 'BULLSHIT!'. Well, not with so much intensity, but something like that, and when he looks back for a quick moment and sees a handkerchief being extended towards him, his mind whispers bullshit, his heart whispers fool, and his hand screams reach out. So he does. He takes the handkerchief, stares at it for a moment, at the embroidery, but that lasts a half-second and he carefully dabs at the corner of his left eye. This is stupid. This is so stupid. Max just wishes he didn't like Mr. Holmes enough to listen to him, that he could hate the man for his outrageous amounts of moments that make absolutely no sense. But that's impossible, really. Max can't hate him. Despite his.. eccentricities, and his obnoxious nature, and his pride and his lack of concern for people other than himself..
W
[/color][/size]ell, thinking back on that, Max is really wondering why he doesn't feel as much contempt for the man with the handkerchief as he should. It's most definitely not the fact that Mr. Holmes controls his job, because enough experiences with people who have far more power than him has taught Max that he can hate them just fine. Is it the underlying good? No. It's more of hilarious than wonderful to think of 'underlying good'. Max doesn't really have much time to think, however, because he can hear Mr. Holmes talking - and his eyes lift from the piece of cloth in his hands to the other man, who looks the tiniest bit of concerned. Which is bullshit. Bullshit bullshit bullshit. That's probably Max's favorite word, now. "Little attention? Where've you been the past few times - under a rock? That headmaster guy threatened you. I don't want to be the reason you turn into a hobo on the streets or something--"[/color] T[/color][/size]oo late. Mr. Holmes is talking again, and he's holding a glove the way Max is holding the handkerchief. He's uncomfortable. Max has seen this side of the man a number of times in his life, and all the same, he knows what he feels. Max is surprised at the amount of knowledge he's gathered - but, obviously, knowledge of things that don't matter. It's obvious Max doesn't know what compounds Mr. Holmes uses, or what junk he puts in his beakers, or what the word 'asjkeashalsd' means. He always learns the things that don't make a difference. A moment passes wherein Max is just speechless at what in the name of the Lord left the older man's lips, something that involved having to tell him. Emotional state. Bullshit. See, he's gone and used the word again. Max sighs. "Listen, Mr. Holmes. Could you spare me some empathy and.. not ask for the truth? I teach in an emotional state a lot. You just never notice. I mean, I totally appreciate it. You trying to care and stuff, but I.. uh, no offense. I just. It's not something I can.. share."[/color] With you, Max is tempted to add, but he doesn't, just so he won't offend the man more than he probably already has. His eyes are burning, and there's that stupid feeling in his nose that alerts him to a possible breakdown. "Thanks, though. Really. First you waited for me and now you're concerned. Or just curious. It's a nice change."[/color] Rather, it's something Max wished was normal. Mancrush going overdrive. Something that drives the boy to think in fragments rather than simple sentences. If he weren't ready to throw the towel, in regards to his dreams, he would have appreciated this more. But giving up is so easy--... "Uh, here. Thanks,"[/color] Max mumbles, handing over the handkerchief, throat going dry. [/size][/font][/blockquote][/blockquote] - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - S tatus: done and done!
T agged: the mancrush
W ords: 625, what the fuck!?
O utfit: loose light blue shirt, baggy jeans. striped black and blue socks. black and blue checkered vans.
N otes: listening to angsty music = this. lyrics = "i swear you didn't care..." = this. 8| also, this post makes no sense. my brain cannot process it. it fails at life.
C redit: template by Marv of A Thousand Fireflies
L yrics: Here By Me by 3 Doors Down
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Post by Basil Holmes on Apr 19, 2010 9:05:21 GMT -5
Basil's eyebrow rose quite high, evidently surprised at the trace of determination in the boy's voice. It appeared as though he honestly cared about his career. Of course, it was more than likely to just didn't want to be responsible for anyone to lose their job. As Basil had witnessed so many times, humans don't enjoy feeling guilt. More often than not it's about them then others.
Either way, it was somewhat pleasant to hear an earnest want to spare someone of punishment. True, the headmaster was known for his harsh reprimands, Basil having been on the receiving end of those a number of time, but he was used to it. Besides, should he ever really be fired, he did still have his badge, certifying him as an official detective. He much preferred mysteries over bratty children any day.
Oh.. oh no he's been talking, hasn't he? Damnitt, Basil, this is supposed to be a very..punctual moment. Straining his ears, he managed to hear the last few words of Matt's lecture.
--you waited for me and now you're concerned. Or just curious. It's a nice change."
Professor Holmes blinked. Was he curious? It's possible, he was often curious. In fact, he spent his whole life curious as can be! Yes, curiosity was a good word. Concerned? Oh, that opened a whole door of possibilities for Basil to go down, none of which he was particularly pleased by. No, curious he was, nothing more. Oh, and professional concern, but that's all. Really.
"Uh, here. Thanks."
Glancing down, the brunette gazed at the outstretched hand, offered his kerchief right back. His lips twitched slightly and formed and awkward sort of kind smile.
"Mm," he nodded, before patting the boy's hand with his gloved one, "Keep it. I believe you'll need it more than me." He wasn't sure exactly what kind of context that was. It could have been an insult, or just a polite gesture. Either way, this was getting very uncomfortable for the man. Too much emotion coming from someone in a situation where he couldn't deflect it was very overwhelming.
[/size][/sup] FOR ,, [/color] purr~ <3 WORDS ,,[/color] 342 STATUS ,,[/color] complete! WEARING ,,[/color] a disheveled suit. EXTRA ,, [/color] Baaahaaa. Uncomfortable Basil is uncomfortable.[/size] [/blockquote][/font] [/size][/font][/color][/center] |
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Post by Maximillian Goof on Apr 19, 2010 9:33:04 GMT -5
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - Add that to Max's current list of 'bullshits'. First, the concern. Then, the handkerchief. Then, the giving back. Then the smile (although it looked more like something that belonged to a Halloween party). And Max's body is still frozen in the state of fear, but his heart is soaring in something akin to success - at the discovery of human emotion, of humanness, in Basil Holmes. Or maybe it's just him being happy. He can't quite tell the difference anymore, as its so beautifully pieced together, aesthetically pulchritudinous. If he wrote this down on a paper, it would appear to people in a the same way a Math equation appears to him.
Nonsensical.
There's the briefest hints of tears again, and they roll and Max wipes them, and for a minute he's not being pulled into a cliff, not feeling like he's a hopeless case. Rather, his mentality is pulled - magnetic to laughing - and he bursts out, into guffaws, unable to keep himself from doing such at the completely inhumane way this situation appears to him. This isn't normal. Mr. Holmes caring, the handkerchief, the tears, the dreaming, the waiting, the everything. Maximillian Goof is crying because of laughter, and he bends downward, arms around his stomach, as if that will help, and when he lets out an 'a-HYUCK' he actually doesn't cover his mouth.
"Oh, God, are you serious?"
[/color] Max asks, hoping he isn't offending the Professor in the least, and he just wraps his arms around him - in something like a hug. Something that shows appreciation. Thanks. Even if Max couldn't speak. Even if Max's heart still felt like failing and dropping to the ground. Part of it was smiling, though. Part of it was happy, and Max can't shake that feeling off. It's been a while. "This is just me dreaming again. But thanks for keeping me from falling down that pit."[/color] He's probably not making any sense right now, and he pulls back - and Max isn't sure whether this is reality or a dream, but he can't quite bring himself to distinguish the difference anymore. Instead, he slips the handkerchief into his pocket, and he'll be surprised when he finds it when he returns home, and he manages a grin despite the tear-stained face, despite the hurt, despite the pain. Strength. "We're really late, you know."Like flying with broken wings-- [/size][/font][/blockquote][/blockquote] - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - S tatus: done and done!
T agged: source of laughter
W ords: 399. lolshort.
O utfit: loose light blue shirt, baggy jeans. striped black and blue socks. black and blue checkered vans.
N otes: big time rush + basil/max = this. guh fail.
C redit: template by Marv of A Thousand Fireflies
L yrics: Here By Me by 3 Doors Down
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Post by Basil Holmes on Apr 22, 2010 11:55:11 GMT -5
The whole situation was very..awkward. Basil plus..feelings usually made for an uncomfortable atmosphere. Here he was, standing there like a buffoon in the face of a crying child. Well, man, legally, but definitely hadn't reached the cusp of manhood yet. EITHER WAY (because yes, Basil thought with caps lock on sometimes), this was strange and alien and foreign and oh god the boy was crying again.
But..laughing? Oh no, no no no, Basil was not the go-to person when someone was having a break down. Mathematics, sciences, even psychology he could handle! But comfort and the situation where he's presented with a possibly not lucid male was very strange. So strange, even the odd sound his assistant made when doubled over laughing didn't really occur to the man.
Wracking his brain, Basil reached his gloved hand forward and placed it tentatively on his shoulder.
He began to speak, trying to come up with the correct name, but before he could get anything out, the boy was speaking again.
A dream? Well that was rather rude! Basil was not so abstract that one would simply think they imagined him up, would they? He wasn't allowed much time to be affronted however, as his ears heard a word that sounded awful like "pit."
...Does Mattias want an apple pit? Or the pit of another fruit? There was definitely no pit around them, not literally anyw--
Oh. Dream, pit.. He imagined falling and Basil..helped him? Odd. He never really imagined he'd help anyone on an emotional level. The very idea made his brow furrow and his lips pout thoughtfully. As a matter of fact, he only helped people when they needed his professional assistance. And emotional support did not fit within that category.
Deciding it best to just skip all the complicated discussions, Basil simply nodded his head and patted the boy's shoulder.
"Yes well," he began, clearing his throat in obvious unease, "You're welcome...Maxwell." He hadn't tried that one yet, had he? Oh well, it probably wasn't right anyway.
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Post by Maximillian Goof on Apr 23, 2010 5:09:28 GMT -5
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - Maxwell.
C
[/i][/size] hrist, Basil called him Maxwell. Now, if Max isn't mistaken, then Maxwell is the name of the man in that reality TV show - the one about the Nanny with the annoying voice, the one with Fran Drescher; and Maxwell is a perfect gentleman with an arousing English accent. That's who Maxwell is. Maximillian, on the other hand, is the dream Max's mother and father wanted him to be - the boy who would succeed. Maximus is just one of dad's close friends confusing his name with something else. But Max? Max is the goofball who has nightmares and cannot speak of said nightmares to anyone, the idiot who spends his nights trying to become a better helper to a person who probably doesn't need him. Max is the boy who doesn't know the square root of one. Max is just 'that kid', a sad smear of grey in a black and white picture. He is optimistic, of course. Optimism comes to him like second nature, because if he isn't happy, then living wouldn't even appear as a choice to him - and living isn't supposed to be a choice. When everything falls apart, when glass houses shatter and become shards in the grass who wished they were stronger: there is nothing left for the lad than to be happy. To believe that there's something better out there, that improvement is possible. Maximillian Goof is no basket case, though his years in high school had seemed awfully close to that due to that little incident, and even though he dreams of death and failure and falling ( endlessly, through space and time and nothingness and blood--), it always falls back to him knowing that feeling sorry for himself brings nothing good. It's because he was determined that he was assigned to Basil Holmes, and there are two possible reasons to this, such as fate kicking him in the ass, or fate giving him a kick in the ass that's meant to be a blessing. Although his voice cracks and his laugh is retarded and he's a trouble magnet, Max can't keep himself from just living. Rather, the boy takes comfort in the one instant of human contact brought about by the detective, takes comfort in the hand on his shoulder covered by cloth; and he sighs that regular sigh, mind still on some kind of high, eyes looking hopeless - but the comical one that appears whenever his name is thought to be something else. "It's Max,"[/color] he says for the nth time, and somewhere else in the world somebody is smiling for no reason at all. This is just an ordinary day, and Max is just an ordinary boy. Well, an ordinary boy with a kook for a partner, but - those who mind don't matter, and those who matter don't mind. [/size][/font][/blockquote][/blockquote] - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - S tatus: completed, against my better judgment
T agged: basil <3;
W ords: 473. yeah. short.
O utfit: loose light blue shirt, baggy jeans. striped black and blue socks. black and blue checkered vans.
N otes: well, this probably doesn't make any sense, because my english is just screwed up right now - and i'm incredibly sorry for making you wait so long for this post. nonetheless, i hope it's decent and to your liking. otherwise, i'd just shoot myself in the head.
C redit: template by Marv of A Thousand Fireflies
L yrics: Here By Me by 3 Doors Down
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