Pax Custos

im thinkin the multivverse is just jealous a my legs or somethin cause wwhenevver somethin goes wwrong its alwways that

#I think that it was 'Eridan Ampora's legs were made for fucking.'#holydestruction

Wasn't there a post going around saying that you've got god legs or something of the sort?

Logs on.

#Eridan's a seahorse now?#Sips tea.#Interesting.

shit’s quiet. that’s the only motherfuckin way i can really all describe it.

I guess a boring evening is better than a bad one, at least.

oh alright.

yeah, i can get my understanding on to that noise. :o(

Yeah, it's not fun to say the least.

But I'm not really the one who ought to be getting condolences.

In any case, that's no topic to have a first conversation on. How's your evening been? Hopefully better by comparison.

:o)

well, guess it’s not all being hoofbeast shit at least.

sounds all kinds of painful, bro.

Well, to be fair, I'm not the one getting the pain. I'm the one ripping off the band aid, in this case.

I'm basically just being a fucking baby about it, but I don't do well with things like this. So I really just don't want to deal with it at all.

arbitrum started following you

always a welcome to see dirkbros.

how’s it all going motherfucker?

Good evening to you, too, Makara.

It goes... Well, it's going. So far tonight I've had a fair share of laughs balanced out by a steaming pile of hoofbeast shit that I've had to deal with, but hey. At least I probably never have to deal with it again.

Like ripping off a band aid.

“Yeah, but don’t go gettin’ any ideas about wuh-what happened betwuh-ween us. She’s amazin’ly patient for once. Still a complete obliwious bitch, but otherwuh-wise better than nearly ewery other asshat that just eagerly jumps on the propaganda train to dowuh-wntowuh-wn judgmentwille ower shit they wuh-won’t inwolwed in.”

It was a struggle to get to where they were, and they wouldn’t even be at this point if not for Vvoldemora. So he was thankful. For both of them.

“No, you got’a earn it after hawin’ the audacity to insult Orphaner Dualsca. Besides, if you think it’s so bad anywuh-way, wuh-why bother?” Eridan: play hard to get with jokes for entertainment.

"Oooh, don't think she'd appreciate hearing you call her a bitch," he laughed, considering sending her the audio for this conversation. "But that's good, at least. I take it you told her your history, too, of course. You don't seem like the kind of person who'd keep such a secret from the troll you love."

Alright. Dirk could play that game with him. He couldn't think of a time where he'd ever lost a nice game of hard to get. "Aw, but I thought you wanted to tell me the joke," he teased. "Since you thought it was such a good joke and all."

#Did he?#Didn't he?#Well now you're wondering aren't you?#holydestruction

Eridan may or may not have shit himself when I took this picture.

Not at all. As the donor for the traits of Aquarius as known by humans, he proved that the fixed sign was a very resolute sign, set in its ways once a decision was made.

“Yeah, that’s called knowuh-win’ your matesprit, Dirk. She’ll bleed herself dry for ingrates wuh-what don’t deserwe it. And wh—while I do, the fact still remains that she needs lookin’ after.” He made that face for the third time, realizing again that he was stuttering and repeating the whole process. It just kept slipping his mind cause he stopped paying attention to it.

“Hope’s irrelewant right nowuh-wuh, but he’s still my direct ancestor, so ‘fair game’ my woluptuous, wiolet ass. You’re bein’ specesist for pokin’ fun at the longewity’a my caste and you should be ashamed’a yourself. I don’t see wuh-why you deserwe ewen hearin’ the joke any more.”

"Hmm. So she's a girl that's easily taken advantage of, huh?" Dirk didn't know how the topic switched from him to his matesprit, but he was actually quite curious how Eridan managed to catch a Feferi in his net. From what he'd heard, there was a trend of Eridan's in every timeline doing horrible things to Feferi's.

That isn't to say that Dirk doubted the sincerity of Eridan's affections, of course. But... Well, stories are worrying, and he'd heard his fair share of bad ones surrounding the name of Eridan Ampora.

"Aww, don't be like that, you fuckin' tease. Come on, tell me the joke, you can't just dangle it in front of my face and then pull it away just as I start to want to hear it. For once in your life, don't be an asshole about something."

#It smells like burnt meat and propane.#A barbecue perhaps.

Spades are in the air tonight.

galvanizediron

arbitrum reblogged your post: shit, did i say john madden?? i meant john egbert!…

Do you want John Madden’s dick in your mouth, Egbert?

aw, more than anything, dirk! for halloween and christmas and my human birthday. for breakfast, lunch, and dinner! mm-mm-mm!

#You heard it here first folks.#apocryphalprestige

galvanizediron

shit, did i say john madden?? i meant john egbert! i just love john madden so, so much.

Do you want John Madden's dick in your mouth, Egbert?

#apocryphalprestige

This just in: John Egbert thoroughly enjoys having dicks in his mouth.

#Lord what a circus.

Eridan blames Dirk on a constant basis as the catalyst to the hoard of Striders that constantly plague him. His dashboard online is a neverending stream of bad metaphors and hideous sarcasm. Sarcasm he has to dodge and parry at every fucking turn. So their friendly banter stays on a pretty even playing field. Usually. Eridan’s likely lost more often than Dirk.

“I DO fuckin’ say so, cause if anyone can do it it’s Fef. And I’m more concerned about her wuh-wellbein’ than mine as a matter’a fact.” He snorted for good measure. Right over top of whatever jargon he was spewing about options. “Don’t need ‘em and I don’t wuh-want ‘em. I wuh-won’t need fuckin’ bags’a bolts to carry me around wuh-with Fef helpin’. I’ll giwe you empirical ewidence.”

And that was that.

“Wuh-wowuh-wuh. Fuckin’ rude, that’s my ancestor, you pusher-less cudlump. And it’s a great joke, it’s a classic that anyone can appreciate.”

God damn, Ampora's sure don't like listening to people, do they? Dirk is quick to judge that it's easier to shut up while Eridan talks over him, because that's just a shouting match waiting to happen. "You're sitting in a hospital and you're worried about her?" Well, that was intriguing.

Ah, Dirk wanted so badly to try and talk some sense into Eridan and not so blindly place his bets on an uncertain outcome. But even he could see that this promise of a cure was all that was keeping Eridan from totally losing it in here. So he made the wise decision and chose to just leave it at that.

But... how awful would it be if, like Dirk predicted, Feferi ended up incapable of healing this injury?

"All I can say is, I hope you're right, Eridan," he sighed, running his fingers through his hair. It's not often that you hope for yourself to be wrong.

"Yeah, ancestor from, like, 2000 years ago. Sweeps. Whatever it is, I don't even know anymore. Anything older than a generation is fair game to poke fun at. But I can't say I ever heard of a 'string in a bar' joke, so I think you're pretty much full of shit when you call it a 'classic.'"

That was the beautiful thing about pain medication. Eridan was…mostly aware of what was going on. He was aware enough to be able to hold conversation, even if things easily escaped his usually keen notice, but he was candid. There was no more filter there, nothing stopping Eridan from just blurting out whatever came to mind, as it came to mind. And he didn’t even care that he’d said something.

In fact, he always seemed downright pleased with himself and the world in general, no matter what he said.

And Dirk’s comments? Well. He never took them to heart anyway, such was the build of their friendship. But he was actually downright amused by their banter, rather than putting up a more tsundere facade.

“Fuck you, you’re just jealous’a my humor.” He looked almost snotty underneath his grin. “Hawe I told you the one about the string goin’ into the bar?”

Oh, but then that comment about Tavros seemed to strike a chord. His lip quirked up into a half snarl as he hissed, and proved that he convinced himself Feferi would be able to mend his severed nervous system.

“I don’t need fuckin’ prosthetics. I’ll be wuh-walkin’ on my own two legs by the end’a the fuckin’ perigee, and I don’t need to be a Prince’a Hope to tell you that. Fef’s life powuh-wers are a wuh-wonder’a fuckin science, and she’ll hawe these fuckin doctors gawkin’ wuh-when I wuh-walk out that door.”

Dirk always liked Eridan as well for their banter. The Ampora's wit was as sharp as his sword, which made every little victory in their playful teasing all the more fulfilling. One might mistake them for seeing spades, but really, Dirk just liked the even match.

"Huh, it looks like Ampora's really do follow in each others footsteps," he snickered as Eridan propositioned his shitty joke. "Dualscar's bad joke got him killed too. But let's hear it anyways, what do I know? It could be funny."

Dirk, who had no knowledge of the potency of his Feferi's abilities, met his claim with heavy skepticism and some pity. Poor Eridan was in denial. "...If you say so," he sighed, but his agreement thinly masked his doubt. "But if it doesn't, it's still always nice to have options. Have all your bases covered and all."

'Do trolls even have baseball?' Dirk wondered for a brief moment. Even in the midst of such a serious conversation, Strider never failed to ask himself the hard hitting questions.