[ his first instinct is panic - thomas's still limbs wanting to jerk and thrash and pound at the glass above his head - but that isn't the first action. he's rigid, eyes wide in the tinted fluid as they skim from one side to the other. fear screams through his mind, but if thomas has learned anything in the three or four months worth of memory he has, it's that losing it always makes it worse. the woman speaks up inside his head, and thomas pays rapt attention as the fluid drains, trying to memorize every syllable of it. it'll be important later.
they always start like this. they make you bleary, confused, and afraid, and throw you out into hell to see if you're one of the ones that can get their wits around them, adapt and recover quick enough to survive. anger burns in thomas, hot and fierce, because he'd told them - that's enough, no more, and yet, here he is.
But Ripley? They never added in sob stories before. not really, not so directly.
the pod cracks open, and thomas goes from still to near punching it the rest of the way open, yanking at cables and the mask on his face, gagging as it comes up his throat (maybe throwing up a little, ew). there's not much room for dignity here, and thomas doesn't seek it, going straight into attempts to walk, only to have his knees go out and face-plant onto the floor again. somewhere down a long hall, he can see a brighter light, and people milling around.
so, here's this bare-assed teenager, army crawling his lame ass across a gross, fluid slick floor, calling out in a raspy voice: ]
Pen— [ for a writing utensil. ] Anybody got a pen?
[ he has needs, and they're called data integrity. he'll only remember that message he heard for so long, and he needs to get it written down before it's gone, someone get him a goddamn pen and some paper. or, you know, a sheet. to cover up his naked ass while he worms across the floor.]
VR - SPACE WALK;
[ space.
s p a c e .
as much as thomas wants to be annoyed at the whole abduction and body swapping thing, space is so, so incredible. it's really hard to stay mad, even in a virtual environment, knowing he'll get to go out into the real thing soon enough. during the training mission to get some repairs done near the cannons, Thomas pauses half way into shuffling along the side of the ship, straightening up and he breathes out slow, murmuring to himself with an open mic. ]
Shuck me, this is so cool.
[ Newt would've loved this, he thinks immediately, and the thought is a lead brick in his chest, crushing and sinking. distracting enough that when another invisible force gives him a shove, thomas loses his grip on the railing, about to float off into VR space. catch his dumb ass, please? ]
NETWORK;
un: thomas
You know, if we're in synthetic bodies, with a shared neural network like this, how do we know what we're seeing is actually what's real? Or if what we're thinking isn't just coded?
Guess it's not that different from normal life. Synth body or not, what colors and klunk our eyes take in from the world around us isn't necessarily what the world actually looks like, anyway.
WILDCARD;
[ thomas can probably be found tinkering with any part of technology or anything vaguely scientific looking, or taking a jog around the Ring, or putting his nose in literally anything, he's so goddamn curious, it's obnoxious. feel free to put him anywhere that seems fun!! ]
Thomas | The Maze Runner
[ his first instinct is panic - thomas's still limbs wanting to jerk and thrash and pound at the glass above his head - but that isn't the first action. he's rigid, eyes wide in the tinted fluid as they skim from one side to the other. fear screams through his mind, but if thomas has learned anything in the three or four months worth of memory he has, it's that losing it always makes it worse. the woman speaks up inside his head, and thomas pays rapt attention as the fluid drains, trying to memorize every syllable of it. it'll be important later.
they always start like this. they make you bleary, confused, and afraid, and throw you out into hell to see if you're one of the ones that can get their wits around them, adapt and recover quick enough to survive. anger burns in thomas, hot and fierce, because he'd told them - that's enough, no more, and yet, here he is.
But Ripley? They never added in sob stories before. not really, not so directly.
the pod cracks open, and thomas goes from still to near punching it the rest of the way open, yanking at cables and the mask on his face, gagging as it comes up his throat (maybe throwing up a little, ew). there's not much room for dignity here, and thomas doesn't seek it, going straight into attempts to walk, only to have his knees go out and face-plant onto the floor again. somewhere down a long hall, he can see a brighter light, and people milling around.
so, here's this bare-assed teenager, army crawling his lame ass across a gross, fluid slick floor, calling out in a raspy voice: ]
Pen— [ for a writing utensil. ] Anybody got a pen?
[ he has needs, and they're called data integrity. he'll only remember that message he heard for so long, and he needs to get it written down before it's gone, someone get him a goddamn pen and some paper. or, you know, a sheet. to cover up his naked ass while he worms across the floor.]
VR - SPACE WALK;
[ space.
s p a c e .
as much as thomas wants to be annoyed at the whole abduction and body swapping thing, space is so, so incredible. it's really hard to stay mad, even in a virtual environment, knowing he'll get to go out into the real thing soon enough. during the training mission to get some repairs done near the cannons, Thomas pauses half way into shuffling along the side of the ship, straightening up and he breathes out slow, murmuring to himself with an open mic. ]
Shuck me, this is so cool.
[ Newt would've loved this, he thinks immediately, and the thought is a lead brick in his chest, crushing and sinking. distracting enough that when another invisible force gives him a shove, thomas loses his grip on the railing, about to float off into VR space. catch his dumb ass, please? ]
NETWORK;
un: thomas
You know, if we're in synthetic bodies, with a shared neural network like this, how do we know what we're seeing is actually what's real? Or if what we're thinking isn't just coded?
Guess it's not that different from normal life. Synth body or not, what colors and klunk our eyes take in from the world around us isn't necessarily what the world actually looks like, anyway.
WILDCARD;
[ thomas can probably be found tinkering with any part of technology or anything vaguely scientific looking, or taking a jog around the Ring, or putting his nose in literally anything, he's so goddamn curious, it's obnoxious. feel free to put him anywhere that seems fun!! ]