IC Contact

[murderpotato]

Hello, you have reached the voicemail box of:

What the fuck do you want?

At the tone, please leave a brief message.

Comments

text 1/? i'm sorry

[hybridification]

Hey Gren.

[hybridification]

Buddy.

[hybridification]

Pal.

[hybridification]

How cool would it be if we had a sleepover? You, me, definitely nobody else, about five people want to murder me right now and one of them is a legendary magical being and one of them is an insanely strong sociopathic psycho, so we can just keep the fact that I live here between us and just you and I hang out and spend some quality one on one time and really get to know one another and make lots of coffee with lots of whiskey in it and never mention the fact that I'm currently in the city, yeah?

[hybridification]

Sounds like a plan? Sounds like a plan. Motion carried!

DONE

[hybridification]

Also can I sleep under your bed.

goddammit rhys

[murderpotato]

RHYS WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU DO

cries 1/2

[hybridification]

NOTHING?

None of this is my fault! I think I'm just going to die slowly and painfully and I'd rather avoid that, but like, it's no big deal everything is totally fine. Nothing to panic about, okay? I promise.

[hybridification]

Was that a, uh, yes or no on the sleeping under your bed thing?

1/2

[murderpotato]

WHY THE FUCK DO PEOPLE WANT TO KILL YOU

[murderpotato]

AND NO YOU CANT FUCKIN SLEEP UNDER MY BED, WHAT THE FCUK RHYS

[hybridification]

It's a very long story that actually has absolutely nothing to do with me at all. I'm literally just a completely innocent bystander caught in the crossfire between the perfect epitome of all creation and a bunch of bandits with crazy ass powers.

[murderpotato]

RHYS WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU TALKIN ABOUT

WHO THE FUCK IS TRYING TO KILL YOU AND WHY

THE REAL FUCKIN REASON

[hybridification]

OKAY OKAY it's kind of a long story??? Calm down and I'll explain it.

[murderpotato]

are you fuckin hiding in your room right now

after the encounter with the shambling mound

[ishotyouuu]

[When Wade awakens a few days later, it's in an unfamiliar room. Well, unfamiliar to him, anyway-- all rooms start to look the same after you've been stuck in one place for more than a few months. He's hungry. And thirsty. And every nerve in his body aches. Wade gingerly rises to a sitting position, swaying a little as a wash of vertigo briefly overtakes him.]

Th' hell did I do last night...?

[Still, it's better to parse out such mysteries on a full stomach. Wade slips out of the bed, takes one step-- and immediately decides to get up close and personal with the floor with a loud, furniture-shaking thud. Wade remains where he's fallen, waiting for the stars to stop firing off in his vision. Awesome start, but definitely needs improvement on the dismount.]

...Ow.

[murderpotato]

[The past couple of days have been... well, boring as fuck, really. It's not exactly thrilling to watch a guy sleep off a month's worth of being slowly digested by a compost pile. Watching Wade sleep is like watching paint dry or something.]

[He knows that the guy's awake, though, when he hears the thud of a heavy person hitting the floor. He makes his way over to the source of the noise, holding a mug of... mostly coffee.]

And he fuckin' sticks the landing.

[Olympic-level skill there, Wade.]

Welcome back to the land of the fuckin' living.

[ishotyouuu]

Amazing bedside manner you've got there, Gren. You're a regular Florence Nightingale. With effort, Wade manages to sort of roll-shift into a sitting position, squinting up at the swarthy soulpatched man in dated clothing.]

...I take it this ain't my room, then?

[Not the most coherent or intelligent thing he could have said, but he's not exactly firing on all cylinders right now.]

[murderpotato]

[Gren knew that Wade was going to be fine after they'd pulled him out of that compost pile and he'd had enough of a brain left to be a little shit. After that it was just a matter of giving him time and a place to sleep it off.]

No, you're at my place.

[He even put you in his own bed, Wade, be grateful. He could've dumped your heavy ass on the couch or something.]

You want somethin' to drink?

[Guy's gotta be thirsty after hanging around for a few weeks inside of a plant monster.]

[ishotyouuu]

[...Okay, that doesn't seem too out of the ordinary. Seems like they both end up at each other's place one way or another. Doesn't really explain why he feels so weak, though. Speaking of which...]

God yes. My throat's dryer'n Joan Rivers's cootch right now. Gimme whatever you got.

[Please have the good sense to give him water, Gren.]

[murderpotato]

[Nice image there, Wade.]

[He goes out into his kitchen and starts to get a glass of water, then thinks better of it and just gets a whole goddamn pitcher of it. The guy's been dry for a couple of weeks, slamming as much water as possible through his kidneys will probably do him some good. Even with the healing factor, it's pretty amazing that the guy's still ticking after everything he's been through.]

[When he returns, he hands the pitcher off. Drink up.]

I got whiskey if you want some stronger shit, but maybe try some of this first.

[ishotyouuu]

[Honestly, this will probably be the first and only time Wade will choose water over something stronger. When Gren comes back with a large pitcher of water, Wade would've teared up at the sight of it if he wasn't so dehydrated to begin with.

He grabs it from Gren's hands with an urgency bordering on desperation, tipping the pitcher up and taking great hearty gulps of the cool clear liquid. The pitcher's a third of the way empty before he's drunk his fill, and he exhales in a gusty sigh as he sets it down on the floor.]

Oh, man. That hits the spot.

[His voice is breathless.]

[murderpotato]

[There's something a little alarming about how Wade grabs that pitcher and chugs it like his life depends on it; but, well, so long as he gets some water in him, it's fine, right? Whatever, that's not the point. The point is that now that Wade's awake and moving around and drinking prodigious amounts of water, Gren can go back to being fucking pissed off at him.]

[Because there's still that little issue of Wade running off without telling anybody and getting eaten by a goddamn plant monster.]

You've got a lotta fuckin' nerve, Wade Wilson, you know that?

[He's got a lot of nerve, sitting on the floor and drinking his water and not even looking a little bit apologetic. Gren went into the fucking caves and tore out a wampa's goddamn throat for this asshole, and does he appreciate it?]

You go and wander your fuckin' ass into the caves without tellin' anybody like a fuckin' idiot and disappear for a goddamn month. Who the fuck does that? What the fuck were you thinkin'? Did it ever occur to you to maybe leave a fuckin' note so that somebody might know what happened to your dumb ass? Or did you think that nobody was gonna fuckin' notice that you had fucked off for a few weeks to spend time in the middle of a fuckin' walkin' pile of compost?

voice; backdated to the 8th of March

[restinglichface]

[Lup doesn't usually do these kinds of calls, but it's been two weeks and there's a part of her that's still intensely grateful for what Gren did for her.]

Thanks. For everything. I know that sounds lame, but I mean it.

12/24 baby

[restinglichface]

[However Gren manages to find it, a paper has been left tacked to his door the day of the 24th, a scribbled message on it with a drawing of a bush and a candle on top. The whole thing manages to glow slightly and smell like wassail, though how it's doing that makes no logical sense. The text upon it is loopy and sloppy, and reads:]

You're Invited!

What: It's Candlenights, baby!
When: Tomorrow
Where: Horny House (y'know, Lup and Taako's place)
Details: Wear pants, bring gifts, prepare to lose both

We know you're not doing anything better with your time! You better be there!

[It looks inviting enough- or so the twins thought. But the party is real, and they hope he'll attend.]