#maverick reed

[0zzysn00k]

i bruised like three of my ribs at rehearsal last night but THE BMC ART GRIND NEVER STOPS !!!!!! real ref for my oc maverick

[0zzysn00k]

hi i wrote a little thing about my be more chill oc post-squip because i couldnt stop thinking about him. be warned that i am not a writer and do not know what i am doing

“It’s hard to separate yourself from something that was everything for so long. It’ll take time to remember who you are underneath - who you are, not who you were - but you can’t just sit and wait for it to happen.

“You have to do something. Go make new memories. Like - build a new person on top of the one you can’t be anymore. Don’t dwell too long.”

I am Jack’s astoundingly obvious hypocrisy.

Maverick, somehow, cannot bring himself to stop referencing Fight Club in his internal monologue. He supposes it’s not just because the movie is associated with his squip; it’s also his only real, remaining connection to his older brother. He and Terry always watched it together - in fact, it was the first thing they did as a pair after the supercomputers were deactivated. It was nothing short of humiliatingly awkward. No jokes, no comments, no pointing out small details they hadn’t seen on the previous, twenty seventh watch. Just an uncomfortable silence as, for once, the film sunk in. Maverick cannot help but feel guilty, as if it’s his fault his brother can’t be cool like he wanted anymore. If he hadn’t synced with Rich, who synced with Jeremy, who accidentally synced with the whole damned cast of A Midsummer Nightmare About Zombies, at least one person would be spared from their entire life uprooting.

(It’s more like four people: Maverick, Terry, and Terry’s two squipped friends who had been synced with each other since before Maverick had even taken the pill. When he was nine. God, it’s been forever.)

It really is difficult to be someone new. Maverick needs to take his own advice, give it time, no rush… do something. He is, unfortunately, hypocritical and impatient - he murmuringly wishes for someone to swoop him up, graciously grant him a new life, and absolve him of his sin without question. Maverick wants it to be over already; he wants to hide until somebody finds the will in their kind heart to save him. He doesn’t think anyone would understand enough to do that for him, so he finds himself arriving at an obligation to be a savior for everyone else instead.

I am Jack’s guts burning with env-

Nowadays Maverick often realizes, sometimes mid-conversation with them, that he is envious of his peers. Of the cast. Of everyone who can push their one-off superquantum encounters down far enough to say that it was only a bad trip - only an accident with ecstasy. Sure, that explanation has had quite the impact on the reputations of Mr. Reyes and the Middleborough Players Drama Club, but it’s an improvement over knowing. Maverick knows now that he despises knowing.

Yet he keeps quiet. He offers nothing but comforting words to his peers, amidst worries of ‘what if I become an addict?’ to which he thinks we were both at Jake’s Halloween party, everyone knows you already are, but to which he says ‘I’m here for you.’ And Maverick will be - will be there for them, that is, as he hobbles along on the foot he shot out all by himself when that computer chip babbled down his throat in a brook of fizzy Dew.

“Thanks, Mack. You’re a real chill guy, y’know?”

Mack. Chill. Yeah, sure.

I am Jack’s soul, with a forever wound.