[ WHY IS THORNS ACCEPTING THIS!!!!!!!!!!! THIS IS HOW THEY BAD END FOR REAL!!! they've officially become claude 1 & 2 except they're just guy 1 & 2. what can they be called colloquially.
he blinks awake at midnight… is thorns still alive… he's been up for so long and working for so long he should be dead. ]
[ thorns is so sweet and naïve they will never know peace again. watches as this slowly becomes virche au as they become the first relivers after an illness wipes everyone out…
also, like. he once again remembers so little of the previous evening but after he sees thorns, none of that matters. his first priority is dragging him up best he can—until he relises his upper body strength is at a literal zero.
tears up. he pads around the bed with blanket in hand, wrapping it around thorns' comfortably. does he stir? elysium will take it as his chance to observe thorns this time… ]
[ he continues to snooze. he has only fallen asleep very recently, so it's still that stage where he hasn't fallen into a deep sleep yet. he looks as one might if they have been running around taking care of someone sick all day while also dealing with scien.
he mutters something but it's difficult to decipher with him talking against the bed. ]
[ the urge to poke him is strong. alas, he remembers just enough of last night to piece together what probably happened, and guilt softens the impulse. thorns deserves at least a little peace…
so, instead of being as annoying as he wants to be, he crawls back to where the pillows are, snags one by stretching his arm over the side, then returns the same way. gently rolling thorns over, he slips the pillow beneath his head before pressing the back of his hand to his forehead.
does thorns seem well… does elysium need to k*ll scien… it's one thing to bother him, but involving the people around him is where he puts his foot down!!!!!!! ]
he no longer has time to date. he has to plot scien's demise.
or, well, he would dive right into that if his first instinct weren't to fuss over thorns. now that thorns is swaddled in a blanket, maybe he can carry him without disturbing him too much? if he stays in this position too long, his back will hurt……
[ he's struggling so bad but he has to do this for thorns
on one hand, if he keeps quiet maybe thorns will drift back to sleep. on the other, it's taking every ounce of focus he has just to shift thorns from the foot of the bed onto the mattress itself. he can't just toss him around like a sack of potatoes either, he has to make sure he's tucked in properly?
both literally and figuratively, he trips over his own feet and crash-lands onto his bed. at least, instinct kicks in just in time: he twists mid-fall, letting his body absorb the impact of landing on a plush bed… and this very heavy, very sprawled bundle of a person on top of him.
which presents the problem of: this sprawled bundle of a person is thorns!!! goodbye. ]
thorns just grunts at the suddenness of it, before making himself comfortable again. why is his bed moving around.... (it's not a bed it's elysium). he gets more comfortable. ]
that's okay... they can nap together... thorns will eventually wake up but it's because both their phones are buzzing since neither of them had sent any update in a while.
because he just immediately starts to fuss by checking his temperature and wiping away any sweat that may have accumulated... this is his beloved patient. ]
[ he wills himself to pass out again but it does not work. okay.
as this drags on, his mind wanders to all the ways he can get back at scien… this is all his fault… he's about to go bald. he just has to endure this for a little while longer until thorns inevitably moves on with his life. it's fine. really, it is. his eyes remain closed. ]
thorns meanwhile browses doordash to find them a nice meal that is healthy for them... he orders it, and then wanders back to the room so he can fluffy elysium's pillows and tuck him in more properly. thorns may feel sick but as long as he feels better than elysium does, he is the nurse.
this time he's only out for half an hour, blinking awake to find the world strangely more comfortable despite the pathetic way he'd went out. but, where's thorns? still in the room? his room? the living room?
elysium doesn't quite trust that it's safe to get up, not with the looming threat of thorns being thorns, but he really should. thorns is sick too, isn't he? he can set his own misery aside long enough to prioritise what should be prioritised. he sits up. where is he. ]
[ thorns is on the couch, mostly because it's closer to the door and he will have to grab their food when it arrives. he is currently quizzing scien on what the heck did he feed elysium, but scien does not want to reveal his secrets in case thorns steals his research... this is hell...
the way he doesn't even bother with words. he just walks up, plants his feet in front of thorns. stares for a beat, then… suddenly topples forward? except no, that isn't quite right; it's just pretense to fold thorns into a hug.
this will be the most awkward minute of both their lives. ]
no subject
he blinks awake at midnight… is thorns still alive… he's been up for so long and working for so long he should be dead. ]
no subject
but elysium will find thorns snoozing at the foot of the bed. zzzzz. ]
no subject
also, like. he once again remembers so little of the previous evening but after he sees thorns, none of that matters. his first priority is dragging him up best he can—until he relises his upper body strength is at a literal zero.
tears up. he pads around the bed with blanket in hand, wrapping it around thorns' comfortably. does he stir? elysium will take it as his chance to observe thorns this time… ]
no subject
he mutters something but it's difficult to decipher with him talking against the bed. ]
no subject
so, instead of being as annoying as he wants to be, he crawls back to where the pillows are, snags one by stretching his arm over the side, then returns the same way. gently rolling thorns over, he slips the pillow beneath his head before pressing the back of his hand to his forehead.
does thorns seem well… does elysium need to k*ll scien… it's one thing to bother him, but involving the people around him is where he puts his foot down!!!!!!! ]
no subject
slightly warm. not as bad as elysium was but still enough that scien is the enemy forever. ]
no subject
he no longer has time to date. he has to plot scien's demise.
or, well, he would dive right into that if his first instinct weren't to fuss over thorns. now that thorns is swaddled in a blanket, maybe he can carry him without disturbing him too much? if he stays in this position too long, his back will hurt……
attempts this. ]
no subject
the jostling is enough to make thorns stir. he opens an eye, closes it, and it seems like that's it for a moment before he just opens both eyes. ]
Elysium...? Go back to bed.
no subject
on one hand, if he keeps quiet maybe thorns will drift back to sleep. on the other, it's taking every ounce of focus he has just to shift thorns from the foot of the bed onto the mattress itself. he can't just toss him around like a sack of potatoes either, he has to make sure he's tucked in properly?
tears up. life is hard ]
no subject
luckily for elysium, thorns is still half-asleep. unluckily, that means all he does is latch onto elysium to snuggle against him.
this is his bird (plush)..... ]
no subject
both literally and figuratively, he trips over his own feet and crash-lands onto his bed. at least, instinct kicks in just in time: he twists mid-fall, letting his body absorb the impact of landing on a plush bed… and this very heavy, very sprawled bundle of a person on top of him.
which presents the problem of: this sprawled bundle of a person is thorns!!! goodbye. ]
no subject
thorns just grunts at the suddenness of it, before making himself comfortable again. why is his bed moving around.... (it's not a bed it's elysium). he gets more comfortable. ]
no subject
he passes out. this is the most stressed he's ever been in his life. ]
no subject
that's okay... they can nap together... thorns will eventually wake up but it's because both their phones are buzzing since neither of them had sent any update in a while.
thorns squints at elysium. why is he under him. ]
Elysium...?
no subject
if he continues to play dead will thorns leave him alone? ]
no subject
because he just immediately starts to fuss by checking his temperature and wiping away any sweat that may have accumulated... this is his beloved patient. ]
Maybe I should order food...?
no subject
as this drags on, his mind wanders to all the ways he can get back at scien… this is all his fault… he's about to go bald. he just has to endure this for a little while longer until thorns inevitably moves on with his life. it's fine. really, it is. his eyes remain closed. ]
no subject
...
he leans in to bury his face against elysium's neck breathes for a second, and then rolls off of him to get up and figure out the plan for today. ]
1/3
is decidedly not platonic. sir. what did you mean by this.
elysium rolls over, buries himself face-first into his bed, hoping he suffocates and dies. ]
no subject
?
[ maybe
he doesn't need to die? hold on. ]
no subject
he ends up passing out again after thinking too much. ]
no subject
thorns meanwhile browses doordash to find them a nice meal that is healthy for them... he orders it, and then wanders back to the room so he can fluffy elysium's pillows and tuck him in more properly. thorns may feel sick but as long as he feels better than elysium does, he is the nurse.
he is unaware of his crisis. ]
no subject
this time he's only out for half an hour, blinking awake to find the world strangely more comfortable despite the pathetic way he'd went out. but, where's thorns? still in the room? his room? the living room?
elysium doesn't quite trust that it's safe to get up, not with the looming threat of thorns being thorns, but he really should. thorns is sick too, isn't he? he can set his own misery aside long enough to prioritise what should be prioritised. he sits up. where is he. ]
no subject
he looks up when he hears footsteps. ]
I ordered food.
no subject
the way he doesn't even bother with words. he just walks up, plants his feet in front of thorns. stares for a beat, then… suddenly topples forward? except no, that isn't quite right; it's just pretense to fold thorns into a hug.
this will be the most awkward minute of both their lives. ]
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
1/3
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
1/2
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...