Majoring in Badassery, Minoring in Taxidermy.

David Gabriel Strider, 18, student at The Crocker Institute for Education. This is a closed RP group.

[crowingtaxidermist-blog]

Amulet You Go Now...

[crowingtaxidermist-blog]

Hearing the girl affirm that David was, in fact, rather cool, had his face burning up as he gave her a nervous chuckle, trying to keep his chill as he acted dramatic and gave her a bow. That is, he was cool until his eyes widened behind his shades as her fingers ghosted over the back of his head, fingers bristling through soft hair and making David’s muscles tense. He could feel his finger tense slightly, shades slipping down his nose as the Strider cleared his throat and tried to not show how amazed he was that someone seemed to actually enjoy his presence thus far that wasn’t both blind and deaf, which he assumed would need to be factors for anyone to show any mild flirting interest in him. Throat constricting for a moment before he could swallow the invisible blockage that had formed in his esophagus, the blond finally reached his free hand up to push his shades back up on his bridge, tuning quickly, “Y-Yeah, that’s me alright. Sticking the f-fucking landing wherever I f-fail- I mean fall. Ah, u-uh, I’m sure I’m fine. My head is a-about as hard as my- N-N-Nevermind.” he started before stopping himself, unsure of how the new sexy stranger would respond to his flirting as he mentally thanked the big guy in the sky for tossing this wild-haired angel into his place of employment.

She really was pretty, and the bubbling excitement and interest he could read in her eyes made her all that more captivating to deal with. She was still letting him hold her hand, too, and while he knew very well that he was lingering in a weird way he couldn’t help but enjoy how well her hand fit in his, mentally considering for a moment how nice her fingers would fit between his as well. Her fingers were still in his hair at that moment only to move away from the back of his head, and he couldn’t deny he sort of missed the fractional contact as she retreated her free hand, the Strider not denying he wouldn’t mind it if her hands were against his skin more. B-But, not even in a kinky raunchy pushing her up against an antique piano, her ass striking the keys in a harsh way as David pushed his jeans-clad hips against her, fingers moving up to twist and undo her hair from it’s pretty bun as he moved his mouth to kiss against hers, hot breath mingling in that intoxicating way as their shades clacked together uncomfortably, leaving them both discarding their eyewear on the closest surface while they- Fuck, David. quit having sweaty teenage fantasies about macking hard on someone’s face for five fucking minutes. You’re slightly better than that.

Readying himself to make another semi-witty quip, David inhaled but then she did the honours for him, leaving Dave choking a bit on his own tongue as the girl who introduced herself as Aradia kept her tease short and barely notable, then watching with wide eyes as she shortly after blew up into a flurry of excitement over hearing Dave’s usual job in the oddities shop. Admittedly, he felt rather flattered that anyone really appreciated the amount of work he put into his animals, and as she mentioned them still holding hands David went rigid as he sputtered quickly, “I- O-Oh. S-S-Sorry!” Before shifting his hand to grasp hers in a brief shake, him trying to calm down a bit while stammering, “I-It’s a pleasure to m-m-meet you, Aradia. A-And thanks, I try my b-best at my job.” He started, feeling kind of silly as he took his hand away from Aradia’s and instinctively wiped his hand on his jeans, other hand coming up to nervously rub the back of his neck as he formulated what he could even fucking do or say to impress the fully hearing and sighted girl that for some reason seemed to enjoy his presence in that moment before lifting his head slightly as an idea formed. Clearing his throat, the Strider finally asked carefully, “Uh, s-so you like my work, huh? W-Well my manager won’t be back f-for another hour at least, but he’ll h-have some new products to ch-check out. Until then, how would you f-f-feel about a private t-tour into th-the back where my workroom is a-and where we store s-some of the shit we can’t keep on the s-s-store floor?” He asked, trying to not get his hopes up too much in case the girl laughed in his face at the offer. Girls tended to do that to David.

[crowingtaxidermist-blog]

Fraudulent Friends

What did Dave do at work? Simple, he did taxidermy stuff. Well, it actually wasn’t that simple and more often than not did he sit on his tube of superglue and get stuck to his chair, but it was something he still liked doing regardless of that. That was, until his boss said that imaginary taxidermy animals would sell like wildfire. Well push comes to shove, Dave was always a people pleaser, it’s just that he could never really come up with anything beyond jackalopes and maybe furred snakes as imaginary animals. After a few days of fooling around with ideas and failing quite miserably, the Strider couldn’t help but temporarily question his choice in hobbies; then proceed to go to a bookstore and pick up a text on legendary monsters.

Okay well, most of these legendary monsters were kinda impossible to replicate, let alone have their names pronounced properly, so this was going to be more of a challenge than the young Strider ever fully considered, having really only remedial monster creation skills. Finally settling for one that looked cool and had a trillion octopus tentacles, the young Strider set to work on preserving tentacles in chemicals and glazing them with sealant and hardener, trying to attach them to what appeared to be a big huge beak. Thus far it was looking pretty neat, and once Dave had completed the creation he set it on his separate shelf to dry, standing up from his seat with a groan and a crack from his back, the Strider moved towards the half door that separated his workshop from the front of the store, walking over to the mini-fridge underneath the counter that held his lunch in it. Pulling the bag from it’s chilly confines, Dave froze in his tracks as someone walked into the store, looking down at his dirty work clothes and biting his lip as he scuttled back to his workshop quickly, knowing all too well that if he didn’t duck out he’d be caught covered in formaldehyde.

Opening the half door quickly and closing it behind himself, the Strider thought he was in the clear until he was the crow - his mortal enemy - squeaking through a small crack in the window getting ready to murder Dave to death with his beak or some shit. Admittedly, David Gabriel Strider was no bird expert, but his first thought was to save the work he just spent six solid hours on, quickly setting down his sandwich bag and not noticing the bag of corn chips he had, had fallen out of said bag and onto the floor. Swiftly hefting the large taxidermy sculpture and trying to move it to the top shelf of his work station so he could close the plexiglass shutter on it and keep it secure, it was like a fucking slow-motion night mare unfolding as Dave moved to almost step on the bag, only for the crow to dive for the corn chips and squawk, startling the Strider and making him topple backwards with his sculpture as an admittedly very girlish scream escaped his lips. Falling and getting pinned under the monster form as he moved to protect it from impending doom, the crow from hell took it’s chance as it snatched the chip bag and flew out the window again, leaving Dave stuck there and winded badly by a heavy animal ornament as someone’s shadow loomed over him, his own pride too hurt already to say much more than, “…P-Please help.”

[eldrichconfidant-blog]

When you have interests as varied as the one and only Rose Lalonde, a plain room can only be put up with for so long. And so the youngest member of the Lalonde family had recently gone on a decoration spree for her room- buying various small figurines to place around her room on empty spaces in her book shelves or on her dresser, printing out posters to dot her walls. It was coming together nicely for the minimal work she had put in to get everything she wanted. Though she felt like something was… missing. The room needed some grand centerpiece to complete the eldritch theme it had developed while Rose was living in it. It would have to be something that her cat Holmes couldn’t rip apart as soon as she got it in the room. The small fuzzball with eyes that Rose had named Holmes was well mannered, but had a knack for clawing things up. Luckily Rose usually had the solution to this problem in the form of the cat tree in the corner of her room, but sometimes Holmes would ignore it and go tear apart the corners of her bed sheets. Rose decided to just do a quick search online of anything and everything eldritch that could be bought off campus and to the platinum haired woman’s complete and utter shock there was a taxidermy shop that sold “Real” eldritch horrors. Pfft, as if. They were apparently being sold starting today, and letting her curiosity get the best of her Rose Lalonde left for ‘Otherworldly Atrocities’ to see just what they had to offer in terms of taxidermy room centerpieces. Leaving campus, Rose was glad to see that it would’t be that long of a walk back once she bought what she was looking for. As the 19 year old walked into the shop she wasn’t sure what she expected. Well no, she expected to see eldritch monstrosities dotting the store but she had yet to see anything of the sort, just dusty taxidermy wolves or cats or something. It was still interesting to see them all on display like they were, even if they were things you could get with a quick google search. Rose was about to call and ask if anyone was in the store that could help her find what she was looking for when she heard one of the girliest screams she had heard since she first set foot on campus. The younger Lalonde made no hurry as she walked over to the source of the scream to see who it had come from. What she had seen however was certainly unexpected. A man with hair as pale as her own trapped under a taxidermy statue of… something. It certainly looked like a monster of some kind, but it wasn’t anything Rose could determine its exact inspiration. When she was asked to help, Rose bent down and lifted the taxidermy abomination off of its winded victim. “You’re welcome.” She said plainly as she pulled the man to his feet. “Is this ready to be sold yet?” Rose asked as she looked at the taxidermy creature that the stranger had been previously  toppled by.

[crowingtaxidermist-blog]

The person that was looming over Dave was unexpected, in all fairness - he had almost expected his boss to come down and start scolding Dave on how he had once again klutz’ed his life up - but what was a little more surprising was the girl looming over him had similar hair to his own. Well, fair enough, a lot of people gene modded their hair to be platinum blond or any other wild array of colours, but he rarely saw another person in person with hair the same colour of snow and latte foam that David had. It was interesting, but what was more interesting was the fact that the girl could comfortably lift the obelisk-esque sculpture off of Dave with ease. It’s not like it was a light object by any means, and it was hard to hold considering it was essentially a disco ball shaped object with obtrusive-ass tentacles sticking out of it. Well, plus a beak that he had laying around and if one looked close enough, they could see the patches of faux frog skin he had laid down on the globe before the tentacles were placed, as well as the object being dotted with what was almost Dave’s entire bucket of taxidermy goat eyes. Because let’s face it, goat eyes were creepy as fuck.

Sitting up and finally taking  solid look at his project - and by god, it looked like a horrid tacky mess in contrast to the the pretty girl that was holding it. Wait, was she actually pretty or was Dave trying too hard to monologue himself into a shoehorned romcom standup guy placement? No, she had to be pretty, because for some reason all people were attractive to David and it infuriated him to no end that he just never knew what to feel besides attraction to others. This included but did not limit himself to attraction to men, women, anyone in between, nice clothes, anything that was red or brandished skeletons on it, anything that consisted of a humour as dry as his dick, and anything that had encyclopedic knowledge of history, specifically anthropology. Because of this, the young Strider was never really sure if he liked someone until he actually got to know them. His case of an extreme sexual and romantic identity crisis wasn’t alleviated on this campus either, thanks to everyone being oddly hot. Damn all these attractive people and their general existing in Dave’s sweaty and nervous vicinity.

Okay wait what was he- Oh fuck, right. He was about to answer this person. This person, who was currently holding his monstrosity of a monster. Admittedly, that made the object sound like he had hit the nail on the head, but the object basically looked like a hentai disco ball. So if this girl wanted to rock out kinky anime style to the music of the 1960s-1970s, he guessed he had become the doctor frankenstein of her dreams. Sitting up and rubbing his head as he groaned and tried to regain a bit of composure, the Strider took a mental assessment to make sure none of his bones were broken while he glanced up at the stranger through his shades and mumbled, “I-I-It’s s-still drying. S-Sorry. Uh, th-thanks though.” He stated, feeling kind of bad that this person one, wanted to buy his eldritch embarrassment, and two, that this person had to watch him get crushed to death by aforementioned embarrassment. Moving to stand up and dusting off his already dirty work clothes - which were still coated in a supple layer of formaldehyde - the Strider turned his head up as he faced the new person, rubbing his neck and cramming a hand uncomfortably into his pants pocket while he continued, “Uh, but h-hey, if you w-wanted to l-l-look around the s-store while it dried, I c-could show you a-around.”

[introxycating]

Stalking Strider Jr.

[introxycating]

Dave definitely looked much cooler than his brother, at the very least he wasn’t wearing dumb pointy anime shades. Of course, all of her hopes and dreams that he may be infinitely cooler than his brother came crashing down as soon as he pretty much jumped out of his skin when she approached and nearly drown in his own coffee. What a way to go. Death by overpriced caffeinated drink. When he recomposed himself and actually smirked she held out some small sliver of hope that he might actually be cool right up until he opened his mouth and stuttered out his first sentence. Ok, so he wasn’t cool. Not by a long shot. He at least looked cooler than his brother though which counted for something she supposed. “…Your Dave, you guess? Shouldn’t you know if you are Dave or not?” Roxy teased with a small laugh, watching with a raised brow as Dave actually got up to pull the chair out for her. It was something she was very unused to but she supposed chivalry wasn’t dead after all “Well, look at you, Dirk didn’t mention you were a gentlemen” hanging her black cat-faced purse on the back of the chair she happily took a seat and waited patiently for him to sit across from her. 

“My name? Probably what you’ll be screaming tonight if this all goes well” She laughed a bit and sipped at her own coffee “Seriously though it’s Roxanne Chardonnay Lalonde but you can just call me Roxy. As for what I want with you well…Dirk showed me some pictures of you and said we would get along so I was curious. Thought you might be cooler and maybe more flirty than your brother. Judging by that blush on your face though my guess is you probably aren’t. Well, maybe more flirty at least and you sure look more cool so…i’m holding out hope” She leaned back in her chair with a small smirk.

“Also, I wouldn’t count on me getting bored of you, Strider Jr. If you are anything at all like your brother, chances are you will be seeing a lot of me from here on out. Hell, even if you aren’t like your brother you will probably see a lot of me. I tend to spend a lot of time around Dirk so since you are his brother” She shrugged a bit. “Besides, like I said, if this goes well you might be seeing a lot of me, literally. Wonk” She said coyly, giving him a wink and flashing him a white toothed grin. Time to find out just how well Strider Jr. responded to flirting.

[crowingtaxidermist-blog]

Blinking slowly behind the safe barrier that his shades made for him, David was pretty fucking sure he was being sassed by a girl he had just met. Well, being sassed by complete strangers wasn’t new, but the fact that she was also sort of flirting with him at the same time - Something he questioned greatly as to wether or not this was forreal happening - had him left just feeling confused and unsure of himself. Maybe if they were about ten feet from each other and she was deaf he’d have a shot at looking cool and awesome while talking, but considering fate had it so neither of these things were the case, he had to just sit there and try his damnedest, which really only made him look more stupid than he thought could be possible. Okay, fuck, what did cool guys in movies and shows do to impress people? Hell, what could David even do to impress anyone? Oh shit right, he had his shades. Uh, well, admittedly that wasn’t very impressive, but he knew how to use that shield as an advantage, so maybe this could work.

Face still flushed slightly as he tried to regain composure while taking his seat, David placed himself across from the pretty blonde and crossed his hands on the table, her face reflecting back at her in the surreal mirrors that were his shades as she made a dirty joke and further teased, the comment really only making the Strider’s ear go red. Okay, so this girl was legit, and was really unfairly attractive as well as flirty. How did Dirk have friends like this? Where does Dirk find friends like this?! Did he make a life-sized Barbie doll real with robotics? Still red in the ears, David cleared his throat finally, bringing a hand over to clasp his cup protectively as the other came up to tilt his shades down on the bridge of his nose, flashing the girl a look at his overly expressive eyes. Admittedly he was really fucking nervous right now, but all fears were being kicked to the wayside as he tried to relax and get to actually know this hot girl, eyes betraying his intrigue thanks to her as he chuckled and winked, before pushing his shades back up on his bridge, the edge of his mouth turning up slightly into a crooked smirk.

Clearing his throat, Dave tried to ease himself into the situation carefully as he toned laxly, “D-Dunno if I can even spell Chardonnay, not gonna lie, b-but hey if you don’t mind me fucking t-t-telling you that you don’t have to put on a dress tonight, I sure as hell wouldn’t complain if you complied.” He commented quickly, trying to cool his jets and let his mouth go on auto as he flirted back, still really wanting to impress this girl as he made a joke about the song Roxanne from The Police. Hopefully, she got the reference. She... Probably didn’t get the reference. Coughing and clearing his throat again, David rolled his shoulders and took a sip of his drink, eyes watching Roxy while finally asking, “So you h-have to fucking tell me now, a-are you real? Because I d-don’t believe for one hot fucking minute that D-Dirk could ever get a lady friend as pretty and fun as you. H-He’s a robot himself, so it’d make sense if h-he made you in a mad scientist lab t-to be his friend. You a-aren’t really helping the case, either, l-looking perfect and all.” He complimented, trying his damnedest to be suave and maybe quit stuttering for ten fucking minutes. It’d be easier to stop if he wasn’t talking to someone attractive, needless to say.

[crowingtaxidermist-blog]

Dungeons and Dumbasses

What would a cool looking and trendy dude like David Strider do in some of the clubs he chose, you may ask? Well, fact be so, while David looked cool and awesome, that was an illusion. Y’know, kinda like a mirage of water in the desert. He was one classy-ass fucking mirage of a normal and interesting person, and as soon as you got too close you saw the awesome trippy shades persona leave out the window like fucking Howl in his fucking bird form. Right out your window that beast went, leaving usually a sweaty and socially uncomfortable mess that looked more like he’d fit in a trashcan than anywhere else. And this particular inhabitant of the garbage realm, knew very well that he was shit. Not the shit, but just outright shit. And his interests reflected this in ways that made him look like a douchey Kevin Bacon dancing his fucking douchey heart out in Footloose. Admittedly, David had not seen Footloose, but his logic still stood that he was indeed, Kevin Bacon. Or maybe he was a toolish John Travolta in Grease. The blond’s knowledge of musicals were, sadly, rather sparse at best.

But despite that drop of realness about David’s, well, Dave-ness, he still pursued his jackhole passions with the love and true interest of a certain Kevin Bacon dancing his cock off- Okay, he wasn’t knowledgable enough to finish that subpar analogy, but the thought stayed, David liked to like things. Wow, fucking beautiful. And with that, it also meant very unironically liking things and then playing them off as stupid and ironic so people didn’t immediately assume he was a huge loser. Sadly, this train of self-preserving logic did not stand up well to actual facts and reasoning, but he persisted that it worked. Really, if it didn’t what else was Dave supposed to utilize as his self defence mechanism? Actually being a sociable and upfront person about his personality? What kind of backwards and painfully honest bullshit was that? Especially when faking it until you either broke down crying or sort of barely made it was clearly the most reasonable idea. Look, all aside, this particular Strider was now doing something that he loved under the guise of doing it for his club head’s sake. In truth, he all but begged Nepeta to let him DM a Dungeons and Dragons session. But the man still had enough pride around her to not openly admit that part. Again.

And so there David was, with his table set up in the club meeting room - which, shamefully, was more of a club broom closet than a club room - and his Dungeons and Dragons stuff laying about in a general disarray as usual D&D tables were set up. He had gone all out, truly, which meant fuck yes they had more than one pencil and eraser, and the xeroxed copies of the character sheets were of moderate and legible quality. Truly, this Stridork was going all out for this. And he had his idea for the campaign, too, he just needed to wait for people to walk in and join. Sitting at the head of the table with his Dungeon Master Divider in place - something he had sadly borrowed from his brother, so it had a disturbing amount of anime girls on it, specifically one leek-wielding Hatsune Miku - the blond taxidermist slumped back in his set and popped open his can of pop, relaxing for the ten minutes before anyone was supposed to show up just as someone slammed open the club room door in a very abrupt manner. Sitting up a bit and letting his shades slide down his nose as he stared at the person, completely aghast, the Strider took in the fact that this fucker was clearly ready to go for that free-throw and layup, because they were in full fucking costume and standing rather proudly in front of the Dungeon Master, David really not sure how to process what the hell was even going on for a moment before slowly raising an eyebrow and asking, “A-Are you fucking serious, Holmes?”

[crowingtaxidermist-blog]

Kiss Kiss Fall in... On the Floor...

Contrary to popular belief, David liked to read. He didn’t like reading boring shit like school books - they invented Sparknotes for a fucking reason - but he did like medieval fantasy and books on photography, as well as biographies and autobiographies about historical figures and murderers. Not in that exact order of preference, per-sé. But either way, there was a rather cool new coffee shop and bookstore that just opened up just off campus, and while David usually didn’t go into niche-y pseudo hipster joints just to avoid being absorbed into the hive mind that was veganism and guitars in places where guitars shouldn’t fucking be permitted, Dave heard their book selection was fucking great and the temptation to have real, physical fucking books to enjoy in his spare time was too great to ignore. God, he could already feel himself metaphorically getting hard over the great, solid feeling of a book pressed between his hands, opening it slowly and flipping through the pages with his fingers tenderly, supporting the smooth spine with his other hand as he brought his handsome face down to the open book, inhaling that sweet smell of ink on crisp paper as he- Okay this was starting to get weirdly sexual for someone who was a fucking virgin supreme.

Shaking his head to quit imagining books in a way that was kind of pervy, David continued to move in the line at the coffee shop section of the store, figuring that if he waited in the long line and got his drink first, he’d then be able to maybe enjoy taking his time looking through the nice shelves of books cluttering the other half of the antique-style building. Finally getting to the front of the line and giving his name as he placed his drink order, Dave sighed once he finally got his beverage and the side of the cup read “Dave Stridork”. He really wasn’t sure this time if that was an error because the building was busy and loud, or because the barista decided that she hated that he used debit for a four dollar purchase, but either way he was now drinking from a cup that truthfully proclaimed he was a dork as he went off to walk around. Ah well, it’s not like his final form didn’t scream “Hey, I’m David Strider and you should come punch me in my douche-ass face!” anyways, he just wished that he could live one fucking day without being reminded of it.

Walking through the aisles of bookshelves and looking around at the genres based on the sign designations, Dave comfortably sipped his dork-coffee, scanning along the shelves of books behind the protective reflection of his shades as he finally found the section he was looking for; the biography section. One catch though, despite David’s height, he could not reach the topmost shelves of these book holding pillars these mom-and-pop based hipster owners called bookshelves. So he had to pull over the rolling ladder. Truly, no man has properly lived until he got the pleasure of using those silly roll-y ladders that plagued all bookstores everywhere. They were true innovation, and were the equivalent to bringing a limo to a street race when you were cunning enough to get one for an office chair race. Truly, these things were the product of innovation.

Having already collected two other books - one on the history of taxidermy, and another being a medieval fantasy romance novel of a certain Lalonde’s recommendation - and as he reached and picked up the third - a book on the psyche of some of the world’s greatest sociopaths - Dave suddenly felt like he was floating. Which he wasn’t. He was fucking falling backwards because he was so stupid as to not put down the brake on the wheelie-dealies that were on his ladder, leaving him falling and playing the song Ave Maria in his head as he readied for impact, hoping to god he wouldn’t break any limbs in the process. Closing his eyes and clutching his book selection close to his chest  - you break it you buy it, and all that crap withstanding - and waited for fate to rear it’s ugly head. Which it didn’t. 

After a moment of wondering why he hadn’t gone splat yet, the Strider peeked open an eye, looking up at a person clearly struggling to hold the rather tall blond boy up princess-style, the strong look in their eyes making little shoujo anime bubbles and sparkles and rose petals appear around their form in Dave’s mind - truly, the most manly and profound way for someone to be smitten by the actions of another - while he watched them finally exhale sharply out of exhaustion and drop him, the shorter fall hurting much less than what Dave had assumed his bigger fall would’ve, as he gasped on the hard wooden floor and mumbled out, “... Thanks, I guess..?”

[crowingtaxidermist-blog]

Swingin’ with the Best of ‘Em

[crowingtaxidermist-blog]

Feeling his brother sort of drag him to his feet, Dave didn’t make any point of acknowledging the action until he could feel his kneecaps again, the younger Strider taking his shades off and hooking them onto the collar of his shirt as he started to dust himself off, feeling rather stupid but very relieved he was out of that treacherous swing. Trying to block out listening to his brother talk about how being tall is great - it isn’t - and then proceeding to talk about the other tall guys on campus - there weren’t many - Dave just shook his head, still not comfortable in his sweaty and uncomfortable teenager body. And he probably never would be. In fact, just accepting sweaty gross teenager-y fate was probably the best plan of action at this point.

Exhaling under his breath and putting his shades back on, the younger Strider finally turned to his brother, mumbling, “Yeah, well, I’m still like, third tallest guy here from what I’ve seen. Hell, there’s even a girl taller than me. Some big black girl who looks kinda murder-y.” he commented, recalling that girl with the tallest and scariest looking guy he’s seen in a while walking around campus. God, those monsters would have scary giant kids. Shuddering at that thought, Dave finally looked down at his pants. Fuck, these were all clean and neatly pressed, too. Not even trying to humour himself with the thought of fixing his pants - because he couldn’t - while his brother mocked him, which gave Dave a devious idea as he quickly grabbed Dirk and pulled him into a hug. Making sure to rub his oily legs against his brother and even hooking a leg around Dirk’s back to get him from behind, Dave let go after a moment and stifled a chuckle, muttering, “W-Well now you can be in on the n-new trend, Dirk. R-Really suits you, too.”

Calming down and finally moving on from teasing his brother, Dave stretched out his back and turned himself to face the direction of campus, nodding a bit and responding to his brother with, “And yeah, we c-could go get food or whatever. You probably don’t want to open m-mom’s care package for you, it kinda reeks like she tried to m-make a meatloaf then forgot it in her c-car before mailing it. Also means you’d get t-to see my new dorm, too. Think one of my roomies was moving in t-today.” he commented, fishing his dorm card out of his pocket and waving his brother along as he headed towards the college dorm building, the walk not being long at all from where they were as Dave processed the end of what Dirk said as they stopped in front of the robotics department, the younger Strider raising an eyebrow and questioning, “Show me? Show me what? You know robots aren’t my thing.”

[blondrobotics]

Dirk shook his head of course Dave would do something as immature as rub his oily body all over Dirk’s. Why wouldn’t his brother try to stain some of the few non-stained clothing that Dirk owned? Dirk let out a slightly disgruntled sigh as he just resigned himself to his oily fate, giving his brother a soft jab to the side as he released him, it wouldn’t hurt but it’d more than likely sting for a second or two. Looking down at his moving attire he grumbled slightly, “Yeah yeah, the Strider brothers, fashion icons of Skaia.” Dirk shook his head slightly at the rather horrid joke. The two Striders were equally as inept at talking publicly to anyone who wasn’t part of their family as the other, truly it was some sort of miracle that they had found friends at all.

As they began walking Dirk kept his eyes ahead of him as Dave explained what his mother’s care package smelled like Dirk rolled his eyes from under his shades, “David, I hardly think our mother would send something that rancid to the son she hasn’t seen in…when was the last time I saw mother.” Dirk muttered to himself as the walked, though perhaps Dave was correct and it was better not to open it, Dirk would pass judgement when he got there. “Ah, I’m suppose to be moving into my new place today, maybe you could give me a hand with a few of the boxes if you’re not doing anything after our supper?” He questioned, he sort of wanted to catch up with his brother, he was one of the few people who actually understood what Dirk went through on the day to day basis that was social anxiety.

However, Dave’s hatred for robotics sort of soared over Dirk’s head, shaking his head slightly he grumbled, “It’s not a robot this time Dave, it’s something else, a tool for martial arts.” He explained simply nodding his head a few times, “Besides, I really don’t understand why you are so afraid of robotics when you work with fucking dead animals for a living.” He pointed out, shaking his head a bit. Truly, both Striders had weird hobbies but they were odd for different reasons, Dave’s morbid curiosity of the dead was always something of a worry for his older brother, as for Dirk’s robotics, it only made sense for someone as cold and calculated as him to work with something he could easily work with that wouldn’t talk or judge him when he wasn’t perfect but it itself worked perfectly by design just as he wanted his entire world to be, like an ever turning machine were all the cogs fit perfectly in their place.

[crowingtaxidermist-blog]

Shaking his head and grunting in disapproval at Dirk’s skepticism over their mother’s cooking, the younger Strider knew better than to expect an edible and physically safe bare minimum from their parent. He’d - sadly - grown up mainly on their poor mother’s cooking, and while she was otherwise a very openly loving and optimistic as well as encouraging parent, her cooking and her nosiness make her rather tough to deal with. Especially for two socially inept siblings that may or may not go by the last name Strider. And by that, Dave abso-fucking-lutely meant Dirk and himself as the Striders tasked with the impossible challenge that was their mother. But that could be dealt with later, in much the same way David had intended on dealing with the care package; through digging a pit, dropping the haphazardly wrapped and kind of dripping parcel in aforementioned pit, then promptly dropping a few cans of lighter fluid in it as well as a few matches for good measure. Jesus fuck, that sounded more murderous in his head than it really is. He wasn’t murder-y, it was just metaphorical.

As it came down to it, David didn’t like robots in much the same way he didn’t like his mother’s cooking. He could tolerate and put up with both, but at the end of the day he’d prefer to avoid such things. Especially the robots. It was just... There was something inherently wrong, almost off-putting, about something that never naturally was alive that just didn’t sit right with Dave when he saw it walking around. It was like watching an animal do something unnatural, or observing a human do something twisted and out of the norm. Nature was balanced, it had a sort of pseudo status-quo, and robots were artificial. they didn’t adhere to nature’s rules, and to Dave, that made them scary and unpredictable. It really didn’t help that he was still a little shaken up from having to use the robo-fencer during his fencing classes, but that was an aside he’d like to forget. Maybe even drink away if David wasn’t a pussy with alcohol and got drunk two shots in. Maybe he should consider working on that.

Shaking his head and dismissing the notion of taking up alcoholism as a career path, the younger Strider shoved his hands deep into his pockets as he tuned in again while his brother spoke, brows lowering and knitting together under the protective shield of his shades as he asked, “Not a r-robot? Are you sure you’re m-my brother? Because the real Dirk would never-” He started before halting, adding to the over-dramaticness of his statement by feigning a scared gasp and hushing, “Oh my god it’s Invasion of the Bodysnatchers all up in this bitch. You’re a pod person and I’m Miles in the originally intended ending screaming in a field as truckloads of your kind are driven into the city. No wait, this has to be a Dirk-bot. So instead of being Kevin McCarthy I’m a rugged and robo-skeptical Will Smith with a hot Bridget Moynahan on a motorcycle ripping around in a dystopian neo-noir future Earth, saving everyone from the hive-mind that is overtaking everyone.” He joked, clearly unabashed by his own ego-stroking at implying he is the main protagonist in his own mind as he broke his facade, giving his brother a toothy grin for a split moment as he enjoyed his own encyclopedic bad movie knowledge, completely ignoring his brother as they walked into the robotics labs looking like two dirty hipst- Okay, so Dave looked like a dirty oil-slathered hipster. Dirk looked like he belonged in the messy robotics lab, because he did.

[crowingtaxidermist-blog]

Putting Gordon Ramsey to Shame

All Dave wanted was scrambled eggs, dammit. Like, he wasn’t asking the impossible, it’s just that he had the cooking skills of a person who was blind and had no sense of taste or smell and also had bricks for hands. Okay, well, look, either way, the process was trying even with concise instructions from The Legend Himself - Gordon Ramsey - on Twitter. He expected these instructions to be easy to follow, but lo and behold, there were crushed eggshells on almost every surface imaginable in the Home Economics kitchen, two cartons completely empty as Dave worked on his third carton of disappointment, and among the yolky wreckage there was also some half-scrambled eggs stuck to the wall and to the ceiling. How they got on the ceiling, Dave would openly refuse to discuss, but one can assume it was a traumatic incident. Which it fucking was.

And the thing was, Dave definitely got his cooking skills from his mother. While other kids got to grow up with awesome casseroles and Mom’s cookies being a fond memory, David mostly remembered having to put out fires and sparing his poor mom’s feelings by eating whatever disappointment she made regardless of how hazardous it was to ingest. Admittedly, this caused the blond to have a cast-iron stomach, but that didn’t mean he didn’t appreciate edible food more than whatever the hell he or his parental unit could create. God, he still had nightmares from when his mom tried her hardest to make him a birthday cake when he was ten, the echoes of the other children at his birthday party screaming and crying at the disaster still clear in the Strider’s mind like it was only eight years ago. Oh, wait, scratch that.

Hand shaking as he tried to crack an egg on the edge of the bowl again, one tap, two taps, and the Strider finally successfully broke an egg without it turning to evil shell dust beneath his grip. Exhaling deeply, he watched the pretty gold yolk slide into the ceramic dish, deciding that he could live with just one fucking egg if it meant he could cook it properly. Sighing and pushing his shades back up on the bridge of his nose, the taxidermist trudged over to the stove, pulling out the last clean pan from the cupboard and trepidatiously placing it on the burner, placing a little daub of butter in the pan as he turned on the heat and let it melt. Okay, so far so good. Kinda. 

Pouring the single egg into the pan, the Strider broke the yolk and started mixing it as it began to sizzle and cook, assuming that mixing it more was better as he tried to gauge if it was cooked yet. Shit, like he could tell with his shades on, David grunting at this realization and lifting the lenses up just as a hot splatter of butter jumped from the pan, causing him to leap in surprise, completely forgetting that his other hand was on the handle of the pan as he launched the half-scorched eggs in a large gooey cascade across the room, them going splat in a pathetic mess on a spot of floor near the door... Right the fuck where someone was watching him and fucking judging the hell out of his culinary skills. Well, truly and deeply, Gordon Fucking Ramsey would be ashamed of David Gabriel Strider.

[aestheticallycatastrophic]

Cat Got Your Tongue?

Nepeta loved working as a stage hand in the theater. She got to wear all black and pretend she was a stealthy cat as she moved around back stage, taking care of all the business no one in the audience ever saw, but that was essential to every production. Plus, she was able to go up into the catwalks on a semi regular basis, hanging lights and altering fixtures. Those were the answers she gave every time someone asked why she wasn’t an actor, purposefully choosing silly answers to more easily brush of the question. She wasn’t lying either, both of those were reasons she loved to be in the theater, but neither was the real reason she never acted in a play. Nepeta had stage freight, a fact she had quickly learned back in elementary school when she had been cast as cat number three in the mandatory production. She had only had four lines, but had been unable to get any of them out of her mouth, until she had burst into tears on the stage. Each year followed the same way, with each play she had less lines, but still she had never managed to say them. Even when her teachers had finally conceded and given the young girl non-speaking roles, like tree number four and back of horse, Nepeta still got incredible anxious whenever she stepped out onto the stage.

Luckily, those days were long behind her. She had found her place in the theater was anywhere but the stage. Nepeta kept her stage freight a secret, not wanting anyone to learn the embarrassing fact. She was happy offstage, silently mouthing the lines to herself as she worked and supporting the people who had the guts to walk into the bright lights and act. Sometimes, when the theater was empty, when the actors had received their flowers and gone off with loved ones, when the other technicians had finished their post show lists and left, Nepeta would step out onto the darkened stage. She would say all those lines she had memorized, hearing them day after day, listening to the notes the director gave to the actors. She would practice her intonations and emotional responses, finally able to be on the stage without fear.

It was closing night on a rather grueling production, one where Nepeta had poured extra time and effort to make sure everything went off without a hitch. As the cast took their final bow, applause filling the theater, the visiting director stood to say a few parting words. He thanked people who had worked on the show, calling them out onto the stage to say a few words before continuing onward to talk about the next person. Nepeta wasn’t worried, generally only the actors received attention and on the rare occasion technicians did, it was always the designers, which is why she didn’t expect the pair of hands on her back, shoving her onto the stage. She stumbled, bringing up a hand to shield her eyes from the bright lights, then froze. The director was still droning on, but Nepeta could no longer hear him. Her heart was pounding in her chest, her knees shaking, stomach twisting hard, perspiration beading on her skin, a lump forming in her throat. He fell silent and she was vaguely aware that she was supposed to say something.

A second of silence, drew out into a few seconds, until the silence could officially be declared awkward. Nepeta couldn’t move, couldn’t speak, couldn’t do anything but stand there frozen. She heard crickets chirping, confusion spreading across her face, the sound drawing a laugh from the audience. Angry, embarrassed tears stung her eyes as she turned and bolted from the stage. As she ran, the tears started to stream down her face, blurring her vision. Nepeta wasn’t sure where she was going, all she knew was that she had to get away from the theater, had to get away from everyone’s judgmental gaze and the laughing crowd. She was moving on autopilot, not even completely sure if she was still in the theater or if she had gotten outside, face downcast to hide that she was crying, utterly mortified as she ran square into someone, sending herself sprawling backward onto her ass.

[crowingtaxidermist-blog]

Dave liked theatre, but the fact that he was the new student director came just by fluke. He hadn’t expected to get caught in the middle of the library writing a screenplay for fun, and he sure as hell didn’t expect that to get him an offer to work as a student director. For the next production, though. Not this recent one. No, David was expected to shadow their current sod of a director to learn the ropes, and fuck were the ropes boring. Or at least, their current director was fucking boring. Everything else was kind of okay and even a little bit cool, but because he was sure the director hated him, the Strider was always given the shit jobs. Which, at this time, included but didn’t only consist of Dave being the light and sound technician for the entire show.

It wasn’t a hard job, just follow the cues written on his version of the script and actually listen for his cues and shit, but it was still mind numbing to the point where Dave just ended up wrangling a nervous stage hand into doing the job, him sneaking out and heading into the costume lab for inspiration as the show went on without him. Walking into the dressing room, the Strider looked around at the shelves and racks of outfits, all expertly categorized by type and size by none other than the Strider himself. Well, that was due to the fact that the entirety of the prop and costume rooms were left looking like Hell on Ice™, but now both were acceptably organized so as to make his life suck increasingly less. Either way, he already knew the costume he wanted to try on, having seen it while he was working on cleaning a few days prior and setting the oddly well fitting outfit aside to try on again later. It was just a white suit and matching dress pants, but paired with the black button up shirt and red suspenders he found, Dave admitted he thought he looked pretty fucking sharp for once, instead of just looking like God shat out the stereotypical hipster teen trend blogger and decided that adding douchey shades might lower the trashiness. Well God was wrong, much like Dave had been so many times before and would continue to be.

In fact, Dave was so fucking wrong that he had miscalculated the time he had to put on something decent and head backstage, him reaching for his phone that he had set on a table and letting out a long string of curses as he grabbed his jacket and started out of the room quickly, not really thinking about wether or not it would be a good idea to run in the halls, or wether he should be watching himself, the Strider running and reaching for the stage door, only for it to slam open on him - someone on the other side beating him to it and promptly smacking solidly into the Strider as they bolted. Grunting and feeling the other very very solid person headbutt the wind right out of Dave’s lungs, the Strider ragdolled, slamming into the adjacent wall and slumping with a shudder and a hard gasp, trying to blink away the stars behind his eyes as he pushed his shades back up on the bridge of his nose, looking up and grunting while huffing out breathlessly, “... F-Fuck, you okay? I’m s-sorry...” Feeling his face go dark with a blush as he started to stutter like an idiot, really not sure what else to say after colliding with someone in the back fucking hall of the theater.

[crowingtaxidermist-blog]

Pest Problems

There were many things Dave was - attractive, funny, clumsy, a virgin - but one thing he would never intentionally be was an animal hater. Fuck, even though he loved dead animals, he loved living ones even more. So what was the problem, you say? One particular animal fucking hated his guts more than anything or anyone ever before in his goddamned short-ass sweaty teen life. And it wasn’t even an intentional thing that he did that made this animal hate him! There he was, enjoying a stupid game of bocce ball at a class barbecue last July, and as he was throwing the stupid bocce a crow landed on the grass just unfortunately enough where the ball landed. And god did he still feel terrible for hurting the animal and making it upset, but apparently no amount of corn chips set out on his windowsill was enough to sate this animal’s burning hatred.

But why would Dave recall such a small incident? Because the same idiot crow that was pissed after flying in the line of bocce fire was currently circling the coffee shop Dave was using as sanctuary. Admittedly, he kinda figured that bird would claim his revenge somehow, but maybe a few weeks or a month after the incident, not fucking hold a grudge for a whole goddamned year and exact it by preparing to murder Dave via murder. God, this was just his fucking luck to pick an unintentional fight with a harbinger of Satan himself, that is, if that bird wasn’t already hellish enough to fucking be Satan.

Standing with his face almost pressed against the glass pane of the coffee shop, his cappuccino in one hand, Dave watched in utter horror as the bird he so vividly recognized sat calmly on a branch in the tree directly in front of the shop entrance with about ninety of his fucking friends. How does a fucking bird even have ninety friends? What does he do to earn friends, tell them the best shitting spots? Point them towards the McDanks garbage cans? Either way, it was wrong and Dave had to nut up. And by nut up, he meant grabbing the nearest person who was moving to exit in that moment and hiding his head in their sweater as he picked them up and used them as a shield, blocking out their protests as he ran like hell and held firmly onto his coffee while yelling out, “I’m sorry! Sorry! Sorry! So fucking sorry!” and making a mad dash for his van parked two blocks away. He just really hoped this person didn’t kick him in the head and leave the Strider to be murdered at the hands(wings?) of a murder.

[crustaceousgenesis-blog]

Getting up in the morning was never any easier for Karkat. It didn’t matter how much he managed to sleep at night (a whole whopping three hours) or how hard he tried to get more sleep into his tired and more than likely failing biological systems. He still felt like a fucking zombie and it was really starting to aggravate him. Maybe he shouldn’t have moved right out from his dad’s watchful eye since he usually was forced to bed whenever he’d be caught online or downstairs watching TV. Maybe he should have stayed longer, but no, Karkat just had to get his independence. Right now his independence meant coming to this coffee shop every damn day for what seems like a month now that even the baristas knew what time and had his coffee right out on the normal table he’d sit for. 

It was frankly pretty damn embarrassing, but he guessed it was to keep from hearing his grating voice shouting at them in the early working hours when everyone was still crusty from sleep. 

Karkat exhales into his cup as he takes a sip while he sits on his phone and reading whatever asinine news article that popped up into his feed to let the time go pass. The shop was pretty empty since he sat down and he lets his reddish brown eyes gaze from the dimmed screen of his phone to stare at the various other patrons of the coffee place and then outside where he found fuck ton of crows that caused the boy to furrow his brow in confusion. Superstition begins creeping in his head and so he gets up to pay for his beverage and finishes what little was left to stand and quickly make way for the exit and past the murder flock.

Or that would have been the plan if he wasn’t suddenly picked up and used as a god damn meat shield as another. “What the fuck! Let me go you sweaty sack of shit!” Karkat screeches like a banshee as he flails and almost near socks the other young man in the side of his jaw with his flailing elbows and arms.  Just who the fuck was this kid? “I swear to fucking God you impetuous sniveling moron if you don’t let me fucking down!” Or what? Karkat was more bark than bite honestly and if the stranger could carry him with ease as they pass by the seemingly angry (and very loudly squawking) murder and to an unfamiliar car.

Seemingly with luck Karkat manages to push himself and finds himself ducking at a crow that had flew right above him where his head would have been. “Holy shit..” He breathes out as he lays flat on the ground as they all fly away and to a tree to house themselves. The Vantas takes a moment to compose himself before looking at the asshole who got him in this mess and snarls as he pushes himself up and marches up. “Who the fuck do you think you are grabbing some random asshat to use as your fucking murder shield?” He sneers as he steps ahead to block him from his path of his van, unknown of the pack of crows waiting for another moment to regroup and strike. “And you think a dainty little fucking apology is going to make up for that? One of those little fuckers almost could have took my head off! I should throw you into a fucking ditch so they can get you where they want you, you insufferable prick!”

[crowingtaxidermist-blog]

In that fucking moment, David Gabriel Strider could’ve and probably did break a world speed record for running. And people said running from your problems wasn’t a solution. Well, Dave was living proof that running the fuck away was always a solution as long as you believed in yourself and had the right footwear. Well, okay, he was wearing scuffed up converse sneakers, but hey, it was still better than the dress shoes he was originally going to wear that fateful morning. Taking off into a headlong sprint with his screaming human shield in tow, the Strider jumped over bushes and hydrants like fucking hurdles, miraculously, not once tripping as he made headway dead towards his fucking van. His ugly, gaudy taxidermy van. Okay, maybe Dave should consider investing in a new set of wheels, but for now the sanctuary that was his van was very welcoming.

Or that is, it would’ve been welcoming if the shield he had grabbed didn’t give Dave a good stamp between the shoulders, leaving the Strider stumbling like a fucking gazelle on stilts as he tried to right himself, dropping the person he had been carrying like an eager surfer to the riptide - or whatever, Dave didn’t surf so he didn’t know nor care about the correct terminology for surfing - and dropping his coffee at the same time, just pausing for a moment to mentally mourn the loss of a cup of coffee that never truly had the chance to live before flicking his gaze back up at the person he had utilized as his shield, the shorter-than-Dave asshole spouting something angry as Dave got all Nicholas Cagey up in this fucking bitch, realizing they were out in the open, which was essentially the real-life equivalent to being naked and afraid. And Dave could see the crows beginning to circle.

Not even listening to the other guy yelling like an imbecile and drawing attention to them via crow-infrared, the Strider needed to act fast, once again not listening to the protests of the innocent bystander he dragged into this full-blown avian war as Dave did the only thing he could think to do; Grab the other dude princess-style and run like fucking hell the final fifty feet separating them from his van, the Strider being skilled enough at opening his back doors with his feet as he kicked the old handle and heard the door click and open lazily, the Strider not taking a single moment for granted as he haphazardly chucked the stranger into the fucking back of his taxidermy van, at least relieved he had all the shit in the back organized and a few old blankets down on the floor to avoid anything falling off the wall hooks being wrecked as he jumped in quickly behind, pulling the doors shut just in time to hear a battalion of about ten crow lackeys slam into the window, mere inches from where David and the angry guy were just standing. staying silent for a moment, the Strider finally let go of the breath he didn’t realize he had been holding, slumping and resting his forehead against the door before finally muttering, “Dude, l-look, I’m fucking so-” Before stopping dead in his tracks as he turned around to face the stranger, just staring blankly as the shorter guy was in the loving arms of the top half of an incomplete grizzly bear. Well. This can’t end well.

[crowingtaxidermist-blog]

Supercalifragelisticdoubledeckerhoverbus

Okay, so it’s not unusual seeing a Strider standing uncomfortably in a public area, but for once it was for a purpose with a certain David Strider. He was waiting for someone. Not like, a date or anything badass like that, but he was waiting for someone he had deemed rather important to his life. He was waiting for someone he had openly called his best friend for upwards eight years, roughly, and today of all the shitty overcast days Dave was going to meet his best friend face to face for the first time. Like, in real time. In real fucking time. And saying David wasn’t ecstatic would be a lie, because there he was, standing at the closest transit port off campus in a nice red plaid shirt and black fitted jeans. Sure, his red converse were scuffed to hell, but he figured he saved the look with a roasted almond coloured cardigan. And yes, Dave fucking knew what he was talking about with clothes. People didn’t just accidentally dress as good as he did.

Huffing and rolling his shoulders uncomfortably as he kept his mother’s old leather satchel close to his side, David kept shifting his weight from foot to foot impatiently, eyes scanning above the crowds with ease behind the safety of his shades as he tried to spot his friend. Shit, would John even recognize him? Thinking about it, Dave had changed a lot structurally in the past eight months since he sent John a full body picture of himself, the most notable difference being the blond growing roughly a foot in height, which made him look a lot lankier and more awkward, as well as just making him overall clumsier due to not being used to his new longer limbs getting in the way of things. The hair wasn’t new though, John being present through a video call back before Dave had his hair modded, him having made an attempt to bleach it out back when they were both fourteen. God, he could recall maybe a million memories where John was present through his computer screen. Dave’s prom night where he got his first kiss, that time when he got his hand stuck in a pickle jar for three hours, hell John was even around to talk to when his brother Dirk wasn’t. No denying it, John was his friend. So there was no backing out now.

Okay, so maybe Dave still could back out, but it’d look shifty now if he just walked away from the transit port without meeting up with the companion he was very clearly waiting for. Shit, maybe he could glom onto some stranger and slip out easily. Hell, Dave was attractive enough to probably get one of the girls leaving off of the hover-bus to walk with him for a few blocks and just chat nicely until he was out of the view of the transit port, but that’d also mean walking up to a stranger and just... Talking... And that was a pretty fucking tall order for the socially nervous Strider. Maybe he knew someone besides John at the transit station? It happened, a lot of students used the hover-buses to get to regions of the city without having to rely on their own vehicle, so maybe if he looked arou- Oh shit. Feeling his heart stammer in his chest as all the colour drained from David’s freckled face, the Strider went rigid as he spotted someone he was pretty sure was his best friend, and he was coming directly towards Dave. Shit, what if John hated him? No, don’t think like that, Hasselhoff. It was time to get this show on the road. Kinda...

[crowingtaxidermist-blog]

Yes My Moves are Righteous

Smooth was a word that people never used to describe a certain Strider. While his brother was fluid, graceful, and agile, that gene somehow missed David. He’d have to bring up this unfairness to his mother later, but for now he was busy doing work. It was hard being the student director for school plays and shows, especially because he was the person meant to step up and help as a stage hand when people called in sick, but he liked it pretty well nonetheless. Admittedly, he had spent the last hour tripping and bumping into stacks of boxes sorting through what he needed for props, but as the list got more checkmarks added to his flimsy clipboard, he neared the end of his rather annoying game of where’s-that-motherfucking-tiny-ass-prop, he had just one last thing to grab.

Grunting and covered in a light spray of dust, the Strider lifted his shades and pushed them up on his forehead as he squinted at his checklist again, huffing as he scoured through the large and disorganized prop room, then finally found the stark white mannequin that he needed for the next show. It was a women’s mannequin of fucking course, because how dare anywhere own a male dress mannequin that didn’t look like a fucking pasty-ass Dorito with arms, and as Dave went to move the prop he looked down and sighed, it being one of those mannequins with the weird short plastic peg stands that were meant to fit into the pads of the feet, the thing otherwise being able to be moved and manipulated freely like one of those disturbing wooden body model things that the art students had. But this one was huge. And kind of sinister looking. Shit, he really didn’t want to be fondling this weird plastic demon’s Barbie ass while trying to maneuver out of this fucking room.

Finally breaking free of the prop room and stumbling backwards onto the stage where he had all the other props and furniture he was collecting laying out like some sort of impressionistic art deco exhibit, the Strider righted himself as he detached from the mannequin, sighing and turning on his music for him to listen to on the loud speakers while he still had about two hours of work left to do. Dusting himself off as the beat rung through the room, David flickered his attention back to the disturbing mannequin - figuring that the faster he moved that thing the faster he’d feel at ease - and moving to put an arm around it’s waist, him trying to touch it as little as possible when lifting it, but gravity betraying him as headmost dropped the prop, catching the faceless doll in a quick dip and pausing in that position. Shit, Dave really didn’t want to be dipping a doll, but as the music picked up he just shrugged himself off - no one was in the theatre besides him, anyways - and relaxed, gripping the mannequin’s wrist as he began to spin “her” around, the Strider stepping and dancing to the beat of the song for a few moments in wide circles before steering his faux partner towards “her” allotted box, promptly slam dunking the creepy prop into “her” new cardboard home and shivering for a moment before he heard clapping coming from the far corner of the theatre. Right... Where... The... Door... Was... Goddamnit Strider.

[crowingtaxidermist-blog]

Pretty Fly for a- HOLY FUCK

Okay well, it’s not like he didn’t expect this to happen, but regardless of one being able to practically foresee the cruel chain of events that they were about to enact like some fucking prophet or some shit that didn’t mean that one had to like it. The “one” referring to a one and only, David Strider. And some might ask him if they could see into his brain why he called himself David in his head but insisted others call him Dave to his face, but in all fairness, not even David was sure why he did that. Or why he wasted time talking in the third person to himself when he was alone. Like, seriously, this kid’s idiosyncrasies were stupid to the max. And yet, the jam he got himself into made all those weird mannerisms and nervous ticks look like smooth, clear jelly.

He gat gotten himself stuck upside down. But not like, in a cool and awesome way, in an I-Thought-A-Magna-Board-Would-Be-A-Fun-Hobby-To-Pick-Up-But-I’m-Also-The-Clumsiest-Fucker-In-All-Of-Whoville type way. Truly, David was gifted in making himself look stupid but also oddly nonchalant. Well, about as nonchalant as someone could look, hanging about seven feet from the ground upside down with his feet currently stuck in the magna-board harnesses. God, of all the things to fuck up, it had to be something that would make the blood rush to his head and make his face look even more red than usual. Well, at least his body couldn’t do that unforgivable and inconvenient thing with blood rushing somewhere more south on his persons when he was stuck upside down. At least that was a “benefit”. Kinda.

Casually hovering down the street like the whitest Aladdin impersonator ever, Dave knew very well that people were gawking at him. In all fairness, if he saw someone in his exact position, he’d probably go even further and take a selfie with them, but for now he just took upside down pictures of himself all by his lonesome, every once in a while giving someone a finger pistol as he casually hovered past them, looking deadpan and collected as fuck with his shades on. At least, he thought he looked nonchalant and cool, most people probably wondered why he wore them like a Ben Stiller/Horatio wannabe, but it’s not like Dave particularly cared to give an answer. To him, the shades were just cool. They didn’t need explaining. Sighing and rubbing his neck where a kink was starting to form, the Strider lifted his phone again, sending another picture of himself to his brother in hopes that Dirk might come and rescue him again, only to falter as someone leaned on the upturned magna-board, causing Dave to stutter and look up at the character, unsure of what to say for a moment before droning cooly, “Uh, c-can I help you? Or are you looking to hitch a l-lift surfer-style?”

[crowingtaxidermist-blog]

Fraudulent Friends

What did Dave do at work? Simple, he did taxidermy stuff. Well, it actually wasn’t that simple and more often than not did he sit on his tube of superglue and get stuck to his chair, but it was something he still liked doing regardless of that. That was, until his boss said that imaginary taxidermy animals would sell like wildfire. Well push comes to shove, Dave was always a people pleaser, it’s just that he could never really come up with anything beyond jackalopes and maybe furred snakes as imaginary animals. After a few days of fooling around with ideas and failing quite miserably, the Strider couldn’t help but temporarily question his choice in hobbies; then proceed to go to a bookstore and pick up a text on legendary monsters.

Okay well, most of these legendary monsters were kinda impossible to replicate, let alone have their names pronounced properly, so this was going to be more of a challenge than the young Strider ever fully considered, having really only remedial monster creation skills. Finally settling for one that looked cool and had a trillion octopus tentacles, the young Strider set to work on preserving tentacles in chemicals and glazing them with sealant and hardener, trying to attach them to what appeared to be a big huge beak. Thus far it was looking pretty neat, and once Dave had completed the creation he set it on his separate shelf to dry, standing up from his seat with a groan and a crack from his back, the Strider moved towards the half door that separated his workshop from the front of the store, walking over to the mini-fridge underneath the counter that held his lunch in it. Pulling the bag from it’s chilly confines, Dave froze in his tracks as someone walked into the store, looking down at his dirty work clothes and biting his lip as he scuttled back to his workshop quickly, knowing all too well that if he didn’t duck out he’d be caught covered in formaldehyde.

Opening the half door quickly and closing it behind himself, the Strider thought he was in the clear until he was the crow - his mortal enemy - squeaking through a small crack in the window getting ready to murder Dave to death with his beak or some shit. Admittedly, David Gabriel Strider was no bird expert, but his first thought was to save the work he just spent six solid hours on, quickly setting down his sandwich bag and not noticing the bag of corn chips he had, had fallen out of said bag and onto the floor. Swiftly hefting the large taxidermy sculpture and trying to move it to the top shelf of his work station so he could close the plexiglass shutter on it and keep it secure, it was like a fucking slow-motion night mare unfolding as Dave moved to almost step on the bag, only for the crow to dive for the corn chips and squawk, startling the Strider and making him topple backwards with his sculpture as an admittedly very girlish scream escaped his lips. Falling and getting pinned under the monster form as he moved to protect it from impending doom, the crow from hell took it’s chance as it snatched the chip bag and flew out the window again, leaving Dave stuck there and winded badly by a heavy animal ornament as someone’s shadow loomed over him, his own pride too hurt already to say much more than, “...P-Please help.”

[introxycating]

Stalking Strider Jr.

She had been sitting in this coffee shop for at least an hour now. Not that Roxy really minded all that much, she liked Coffee shops. It gave her the opportunity to watch people, sometimes even flirt with a few people. There would be no flirting today though. Today was about serious business….well ok there might be a little flirting- or a lot- if and when she found the person she was looking for. For now she had to stay vigilant so that she would be able to pick the boy, who she had only seen in photos, out of the crowd. Okay so that made it sound a little bit creepy and maybe it sort of was, but she was best friends with said boy’s older brother so that gave her grounds to be creepy as far as she was concerned. Besides, she wouldn’t even have to do this if Dirk had just given her a little bit of information about his younger brother but nooo he had to be cagey and aloof as ever, leaving her to dig up information on her own. Luckily she had managed to get enough information to know that Condybucks was where Dave had a tendency to be after his shifts at work so she just had to stake the place out long enough to run into him. 

Condybucks wasn’t exactly her favorite coffee shop in the world. In fact, normally she avoided the place like the plague but now that she was here she had to admit it wasn’t all that bad. She had ordered some fancy drink topped with whipped cream and it had a very sweet and creamy taste to it, almost like some drinkable dessert instead of coffee. The drink remained grasped in one hand, the nails of her other drumming against the table as she looked around, trying not to focus on any one person too long. Easier said than done considering everyone in the whole damn coffee shop looked even hotter than her coffee. Finally, she saw the person she had been looking for, sitting at a table on the other side of the shop. He was even cuter in person if she was being honest. She only hoped he was a little more sexy and flirty than Dirk so that she would have someone around to entertain herself with. Taking another sip of her coffee the blonde stood and made her way over to his table, walking up behind him.

She walked up to the side of the table and bent over, resting her elbows on the wooden surface with a wide grin on her face “So, you must be the Dave Strider I have heard so much about huh? Well actually so little. I wish I had heard more about you. Your brother would just not give up any information on you though! He did say we would probably get along at least so that is a promising sign I suppose” She muttered, looking him from head to toe now that she was closer to him. He was very well dressed which was a tad surprising considering Dirk almost always dressed for function. It was a good look though, made him look very fashionable. She wondered if he was single. Probably. Dirk hadn’t mentioned Dave having any sort of significant other. That made him totally eligible boyfriend material, now she just had to not mess this up.

[crowingtaxidermist-blog]

David Gabriel Strider was good at a lot of things, and one of those things was looking cool and awesome at a distance. Up close? Forget that shit, he’ll fall all over his words and make a fool out of himself. But at a distance, he looked like one of those interesting model-type aesthetic teen vogue bloggers that probably did crazy fun shit at his family beachfront property. He did none of these things. If anything, he was a social media celebrity, but even then once the tweets were made and the photos were instagrammed he was back to sitting alone in his room, most of the time either working on a new taxidermy project or more recently, watching documentaries with a certain girl that he personally thought was pretty cool.

What Dave usually did after his shifts at work was change clothes, drop off a holo-message for his mom at a port-pad, and go get a coffee and sit down for a while. Well, he had already finished tasks one and two, so him standing in line to place his order at the Condybucks closest to campus wasn’t a surprise, him standing out like some trendy, attractive artist in a sea of tired and emotionally broken college students and 9-5 workers as he placed his usual order - large coffee, two cream - and got his drink promptly afterwards. Smiling sheepishly to the barista and taking his coffee over to one of the few empty tables in the building - and right wedged in a window corner, so Dave could be as anti-social as he wanted without appearing as such - the Strider sluffed his backpack off his shoulder and sat down, the legs of the chair squeaking annoyingly against the tile floors for a moment as he settled.

Pulling his phone from his pocket and sipping his coffee, the young Strider soon choking as a girl caught him off guard, leaving him spitting out part of his coffee onto the floor while he hacked and coughed. Shit, who was- Oh, she knew Dirk. Well, that explained a bit, but why she even remotely cared about Dave was still a question left unanswered. Wiping his face with a napkin to try and tidy himself, the young blond kept his gaze on the stranger through the reflective lenses of his shades, unsure of what to do or say for a moment before forcing himself to relax and extending a hand to the pretty girl, the corner of his mouth playing into a slight smirk as he rushedly charmed, “O-Oh, uh, hey. I-I’m Dave, I guess? But you already knew that, d-didn’t you?” he faltered, feeling his face break into a blush before abruptly standing up, pulling the other chair from the table out so the girl could sit down with him as he commented nervously, “W-Well, I guess I should ask y-your name? I’m n-not really sure why a f-friend of Dirk’s would w-want anything f-from me, but I guess I c-can humour you until you get b-bored with me.” he remarked, trying to play off how silly he probably sounded with a light chuckle as he took in the really pretty girl deliberately talking to him. Why was it always pretty people who had to make Dave’s life hard?!

[crowingtaxidermist-blog]

Swingin’ with the Best of ‘Em

[crowingtaxidermist-blog]

Feeling his brother sort of drag him to his feet, Dave didn’t make any point of acknowledging the action until he could feel his kneecaps again, the younger Strider taking his shades off and hooking them onto the collar of his shirt as he started to dust himself off, feeling rather stupid but very relieved he was out of that treacherous swing. Trying to block out listening to his brother talk about how being tall is great - it isn’t - and then proceeding to talk about the other tall guys on campus - there weren’t many - Dave just shook his head, still not comfortable in his sweaty and uncomfortable teenager body. And he probably never would be. In fact, just accepting sweaty gross teenager-y fate was probably the best plan of action at this point.

Exhaling under his breath and putting his shades back on, the younger Strider finally turned to his brother, mumbling, “Yeah, well, I’m still like, third tallest guy here from what I’ve seen. Hell, there’s even a girl taller than me. Some big black girl who looks kinda murder-y.” he commented, recalling that girl with the tallest and scariest looking guy he’s seen in a while walking around campus. God, those monsters would have scary giant kids. Shuddering at that thought, Dave finally looked down at his pants. Fuck, these were all clean and neatly pressed, too. Not even trying to humour himself with the thought of fixing his pants - because he couldn’t - while his brother mocked him, which gave Dave a devious idea as he quickly grabbed Dirk and pulled him into a hug. Making sure to rub his oily legs against his brother and even hooking a leg around Dirk’s back to get him from behind, Dave let go after a moment and stifled a chuckle, muttering, “W-Well now you can be in on the n-new trend, Dirk. R-Really suits you, too.”

Calming down and finally moving on from teasing his brother, Dave stretched out his back and turned himself to face the direction of campus, nodding a bit and responding to his brother with, “And yeah, we c-could go get food or whatever. You probably don’t want to open m-mom’s care package for you, it kinda reeks like she tried to m-make a meatloaf then forgot it in her c-car before mailing it. Also means you’d get t-to see my new dorm, too. Think one of my roomies was moving in t-today.” he commented, fishing his dorm card out of his pocket and waving his brother along as he headed towards the college dorm building, the walk not being long at all from where they were as Dave processed the end of what Dirk said as they stopped in front of the robotics department, the younger Strider raising an eyebrow and questioning, “Show me? Show me what? You know robots aren’t my thing.”

[crowingtaxidermist-blog]

Have Xylophone, Will Xylotext

[rooty-tooty-point-and-shooty-gal]

Jade read the text after feeling her phone buzz on her lap and had to clap a hand over her mouth to keep from laughing. He thought she was going to walk over there and kick his ass? Jade, the girl who looked like the definition of the word nerd. She totally could kick his ass of course, she was way stronger than she looked and Eridan and her grandfather both made sure she knew how to handle herself but she still couldn’t help finding it funny that this guy had even let such a thought cross his mind. Then again she had probably looked pretty annoyed at the time as she had thought he was trying to bully her and she couldn’t get any of the notes on her flute to sound right.

She could see right through his cool act of course but she decided to play along for his sake. He was trying at least, maybe a bit too hard since he was wearing sunglasses indoors, but still. It also didn’t help that she could see the tips of his ears turning just as red as the flats she was currently wearing. “Well, i’m glad that you at least didn’t mean to hit me in the head! Even though you did I still think that went much better than it could have gone. I mean at least it went to the right person right? It could have hit the boy sitting behind me or one of the girls next to me or something!” She couldn’t help but laugh a bit, thinking how much more awkward this would be if the plane had hit anyone else.

“So what is it that you play Dave? I mean, I play flute obviously, if you can even call what I do playing it.” She paused and gave a sour look to the metal object which she had left sitting in her chair. Her gaze turned back to Dave quickly however and she looked chipper as ever “Still, I sit in the front so I don’t really get to look around too much at everyone else which is probably why I have never seen you around before!” She still wished she could play her bass guitar, that was so much cooler than the flute and sounded way better.

[crowingtaxidermist-blog]

Okay, so far Jade seemed really cool and nice. Time to not blow it out your ass and be super cool, Strider. Glancing over at the boy behind Jade that she had commented on, Dave heard a low growl escape the human skyscraper’s throat as he thanked god his shades hid the scared fucking nutless expression the Strider now wore like a mask. Shaking his head and turning back to Jade, chuckling and smirking a bit as he rolled his shoulders, trying to look nonchalant but probably looking more like an idiot, as always. Okay, David, time to be awesome and cool and shit. Stepping in front of the girl he was listening to, the Strider moved to lean on her music stand, propping his elbows up on the object for a moment before the stand bar collapsed in on itself, leaving Dave’s top half slamming down a few inches abruptly and sending his shades askew on his face.

Blinking a few times in shock before quickly adjusting his shades to cover his eyes - it being undoubted in his mind that Jade probably saw his vividly modded irises - the Strider cleared his throat and stood up straight again, his blush evolving from being at just his ears to now spread across his cheeks and the bridge of his nose. Nice one, Strider. Trying to act like that didn’t just happen, Dave just rubbed the back of his neck with his hand, sputtering out, “H-Hah. Uh, yeah. W-Well if that note hit someone else and they texted me, I guess I’d have just chalked it up to fate and let love blossom. I’m sure the guy behind you wouldn’t have minded finding his soulmate.” he commented, chuckling a bit and making finger pistols at the other guy as he packed his tuba up, shooting Dave a glare as he left the band room.

Putting his hand over his heart and making a little dramatized frown, the Strider just sighed, watching the other band member leave before turning back to Jade, “Yeah but, fate will have it, I hit my mark. Mark is your middle name, right? H-Hah. That was t-terrible. Sorry.” he stuttered, starting to feel shaky before remembering he had to answer her question. Fuck. Scrambling mentally for a moment, Dave finally motioned to pull his xylophone stick things out of his back pocket, holding them up and pointing at the implements while stating, “Oh y-yeah, I play the xylophone. It’s, well, it’s fuck easy. Which is why I kinda chose it? Well that, and I’m not really good at playing anything e-else. Unless you count spitting ill rhymes as an instrument type.” he joked, pointing at his large xylophone at the back of the room, it partially obscured with chairs from where they were standing, him commenting, “Yeah, and my xylophone is all the way in the back, so it’s not really a surprise you never saw me even though I’m clearly too beautiful to be ignored. S-So, uh, you play flute? What made you choose that? You seem pretty soured by your instrument.” he asked, sounding a little dazed because he was only a little - a lot - entranced by the pretty girl that was giving him the time of day in that moment.

[crowingtaxidermist-blog]

Foiled Again

Why was Dave doing this again? Struggling and putting his safety at risk for an idiot’s sport that he sucked balls at? Very simple, he was asked to and didn’t want to say no to someone of whom he had known for ten years prior. That’s right, Dave I-Can’t-Keep-My-Face-From-It’s-One-True-Love-The-Ground Strider used to fence, and after a year of avoiding even using tinfoil to wrap his leftovers in, he was back trying to keep his ass from getting too terribly kicked. Well, they weren’t going to kick his ass, but sure as hell anyone he went up against would try and slice him like a tomato, which really wouldn’t be that difficult being as Dave was kind of a wuss, but that was an aside. Regardless, it’s fucking impolite to try to slice up another person like a tomato.

Groaning and removing his shades as he set them down on the bench in the fencing room in the athletics building on campus, the Strider adjusted his gear and tried to tell himself this was what he wanted when it clearly wasn’t. Dave would have rather been a part of track and field, being as running took no actual thought, but alas he was a sucker for people who asked him for shit that he didn’t have a good reason to deny. Damn his desire to please others and earn love and respect. Turning his attention back to the idle practice robot inhabiting the center of the room, the Strider pulled out the master key to turn the machine on, pulling his mask over his face and rolling his shoulders before walking over and bringing the dummy to life.

With the key springing the machine to mechanical life, Dave felt kind of uneasy, not really enjoying how puppet-like these practice dummies always looked. Their mechanical movements didn’t help it either, but after switching the machine to the easiest setting and stepping back to get into his proper starting position, the Strider exhaled and adjusted his mask on his face, yelling out, “Start match!” in the empty room to activate the robot, still feeling damn uneasy about all of this. Watching the dummy get into position - green glowing eyes scanning where its opponent was - before the robot twitched oddly and the colour of its eyes changed to red, Dave getting worried about what was to happen next before barely dodging the machine’s first strike, yelping and ducking out of the way of a strike that embedded the robot’s sabre into the wooden floor, the machine pulling the blade out effortlessly before turning back to Dave. Oh fuck.

Moving into a defensive stance, the Strider worked to try and keep up with the lightning strikes the robot made, trying hard to keep his stance balanced while he deflected every potential hit because he was sure that if one landed on him he’d lose an arm or something. What the fuck was wrong with this robot?! Taking his thoughts away from his spar to try and figure out what this robot’s damage was, the Strider’s reaction speed slowed for just long enough to have him feel a hot line form on his shoulder, gasping a bit behind his mask and not even looking at the cut he knew was now there while he tried to keep up. Really, what the FUCK was wrong with this robot?!

It wasn’t long before the Strider was backed into a corner, his sabre raised to protect his fucking face as he tried to formulate an idea, only really getting one once glancing to his right and seeing the bench he set his shit on. With the lightbulb in his brain being turned on the Strider acted fast, moving and jumping as he used the corner he was in as a springboard so he could soar over the death robot like a majestic bird, rolling and standing up shakily before making a mad dash for the bench, hearing the robot running up behind him and thinking fast as he jumped up on the bench and kicked the mechanical menace down, watching the robot fall backwards before leaping on it and beheading the demonic contraption with his sabre.

Gasping and shaking, Dave stumbled back off of the robotic corpse and knit his brows together in confusion, unsure of what the hell happened before hearing something shuffle in the other corner of the room, his gaze shooting towards someone trying to sneak out of the room as he painstakingly got up. Muscles screaming in protest as the Strider stood up and made a mad dash towards the stranger, he moved to tackle the person, knocking a computer out of their hands an sending it skidding across the floor as he pinned them down, accusing, “Who the fuck are you and what the fuck did you do to that robot?!”