Maverick | Bitch Ricky Marten-Taylor (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
deuteranope) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
daybreakacademy2019-08-01 08:40 am
deuteranope) wrote in daybreakacademy2019-08-01 08:40 am
cure what ails you. [open]
Who: Maverick Taylor + open!
When: First week of August.
Where: The quad, also a network prompt.
Warnings: Excessive cursing because it's Mav.
[The unintended effect of getting on his guards' good side further than being "Ramona's kid that's surprisingly good most of the time" is that when they see something happening that they think he'd be interested in, they let him know -- and they're pretty good and not doing this all the fucking time. Mostly they leave him alone. When there's a crew heading into the room down the hall, intent on clearing it out of its already sparse personalization, they give him a heads up. They hover nearby and assure that they'll make sure he doesn't do anything he isn't supposed to when he makes his way into the room despite the crew's grumbles so that he can scrape together the few little treasures his best friend might have left behind.
Flipping through his two new notebooks and the various photographs Kano had collected of his friends, it finally sinks in. He really just...went to Canada, and didn't come back. Not like Maverick can blame him, though. That's where his family was.]
Fucking moron...
[The collected scraps get put away, but he doesn't stay satisfied for long, doing nothing.]
un: < weaseling >
ATTENTION DICKWEEDS OF DAYBREAK
as it's become increasingly fucking obvious y'all don't know what the FUCK you're doing, and I've recently had my schedule freed up on account of lieutenant major disaster Cricket not fucking things up around here as of late, I, Maverick Fucking Taylor (fucking optional), have oh so graciously decided to lend you my much-needed services of being able to use my fucking brain to tell you what the fuck you've been doing wrong or what the less stupid way to go about shit going forward will be
translation: meet me in the quad this week if you need advising
if you're vacationing elsewhere because fuck this place, my inbox in open
you're fucking welcome
[True to his post on the network, Mav will have set up a rudimentary table in the Quad, a chair for him on one side and two slightly less comfortable ones on the other for anyone who might stop by. In Peanuts style, there's a sign that says "THE DOCTOR YOU NEED BUT DON'T DESERVE IS IN," which changes to "OUT" when he isn't around despite being done in permanent marker, and a banner that says "ADVICE BOOTH". Below, in smaller letters, he claims there's an optional fee of "whatever the fuck you find on the ground or some shit. or bottled water. keep me fucking hydrated if you want to make good decisions."
One of the days, however, the self-proclaimed doctor is there, according to the sign, but the usual freckled face and curly red mohawk is nowhere to be seen. Instead, something...furry...seems to have taken up residence on the table, curled into a soft little lump. When approached, the red panda's head bobs up and he blinks a few times before squinting and greeting,]
Alright, what've you got? Spit it out. But if you're looking to use me as a therapy animal just because I'm so goddamn irresistible, you can fucking get out.
When: First week of August.
Where: The quad, also a network prompt.
Warnings: Excessive cursing because it's Mav.
[The unintended effect of getting on his guards' good side further than being "Ramona's kid that's surprisingly good most of the time" is that when they see something happening that they think he'd be interested in, they let him know -- and they're pretty good and not doing this all the fucking time. Mostly they leave him alone. When there's a crew heading into the room down the hall, intent on clearing it out of its already sparse personalization, they give him a heads up. They hover nearby and assure that they'll make sure he doesn't do anything he isn't supposed to when he makes his way into the room despite the crew's grumbles so that he can scrape together the few little treasures his best friend might have left behind.
Flipping through his two new notebooks and the various photographs Kano had collected of his friends, it finally sinks in. He really just...went to Canada, and didn't come back. Not like Maverick can blame him, though. That's where his family was.]
Fucking moron...
[The collected scraps get put away, but he doesn't stay satisfied for long, doing nothing.]
un: < weaseling >
ATTENTION DICKWEEDS OF DAYBREAK
as it's become increasingly fucking obvious y'all don't know what the FUCK you're doing, and I've recently had my schedule freed up on account of lieutenant major disaster Cricket not fucking things up around here as of late, I, Maverick Fucking Taylor (fucking optional), have oh so graciously decided to lend you my much-needed services of being able to use my fucking brain to tell you what the fuck you've been doing wrong or what the less stupid way to go about shit going forward will be
translation: meet me in the quad this week if you need advising
if you're vacationing elsewhere because fuck this place, my inbox in open
you're fucking welcome
[True to his post on the network, Mav will have set up a rudimentary table in the Quad, a chair for him on one side and two slightly less comfortable ones on the other for anyone who might stop by. In Peanuts style, there's a sign that says "THE DOCTOR YOU NEED BUT DON'T DESERVE IS IN," which changes to "OUT" when he isn't around despite being done in permanent marker, and a banner that says "ADVICE BOOTH". Below, in smaller letters, he claims there's an optional fee of "whatever the fuck you find on the ground or some shit. or bottled water. keep me fucking hydrated if you want to make good decisions."
One of the days, however, the self-proclaimed doctor is there, according to the sign, but the usual freckled face and curly red mohawk is nowhere to be seen. Instead, something...furry...seems to have taken up residence on the table, curled into a soft little lump. When approached, the red panda's head bobs up and he blinks a few times before squinting and greeting,]
Alright, what've you got? Spit it out. But if you're looking to use me as a therapy animal just because I'm so goddamn irresistible, you can fucking get out.
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