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RAAAAAHHHHHHHHHH I LOVE THIS SO MUCH!!!!!!!!!!!!!! just like ……. gator being in his late 20s/early 30s and healing his inner child/the stupid masculine middle and high schooler that his dad raised him to be :( and him just feeling comfortable and working up the courage to ask questions that he never in a million years would have otherwise known the answers to. like he’s going out to pick up tampons for you when you wake up w your period and you’re in pain, or one day he just like can’t figure out what to wear and he’s having a whole internal crisis and he just confesses to you that he hates everything he owns and he only dresses the way he does bc it’s what his dad wanted and he doesn’t even KNOW what he likes or who he is or who he wants to be!!!!! :(((
also thank you so so much!!!! you’re so sweet <3
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AMERICAN ALLIGATOR (up close) - Composition Sunday
© Erik McGregor - erikrivas@hotmail.com
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I would also love to see more of Gator very very much. Honestly anything they have to offer I’m down I’d love to see his character explored more or even a brief glimpse at what he’s doing now like
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Rambo: First Blood Part II | Gator | 1.4
Gator scans the room. Pinocchio’s sad little confession, everyone else’s attempts at getting to the heart of the matter. Kindly attempts to soften the mood in light of what they’re all assuming is coming down the line. Even Alvin seems willing to play along. And Gator can’t help it; she has to roll her eyes at all that. She snorts and looks down at her phone, making a show of voting while she speaks.
“Daaamn, the vibes in here are kinda miserable. Wish Death Proof was here t'help cheer us all up. Wonder why she missed it. Guess it musta been ‘cause the guy who looks like a scarecrow got lost in a Wes Anderson aesthetic blog decided t’stick a fork in her.”
Is it weird to feel grateful at having been kidnapped? I almost feel like I needed something like this. Would Death Proof feel the same way now? Would that fresh start that got her eyes all lit up seem so appealing if she knew it would end with her bleeding out to not even fix Pinocchio’s problem? That in the end, even he doesn’t seem to feel like it was worth it? His kicked puppy look makes her fingers twitch. Her hands want to be fists and her fists want to be swinging.
“As a second murder, y'know, after the one where he set up a big stupid fuckin’ trap t'choke the life outta Butcher? One'a the slowest 'n’ most miserable ways I can think of t'die? The corpse with the pissed off look on her face, who died strugglin’ in obvious agony? But, hey, he says he didn’t want t'hurt anybody, so, that’s alright, I guess. So sad he had t'do all that work t'set it up an’ didn’t even want to. Musta been one hell of a problem if fixin’ it was worth not one but two corpses. You’d think if he really didn’t want t'hurt anybody he shoulda helped Death Proof open that door an’ at least tried t'make things right, but I guess he just didn’t think of it.”
Gator cracks a grin, all teeth and no mirth. Unlike Inkheart, she’s never had a sword to reach for, no missing step to stumble on and keep herself from doing anything outrageous. It’s nothing but pure willpower shoving down her instinct to pounce. And it is trying her so, so sorely.
At least have the common fuckin’ decency to kill people like you mean it.
She could have at least respected it if he had gone down with his head held high, said he’d do it all again, it was all worth it. Instead of this… this. It’s cowardice and worse than cowardice. She doesn’t have the vocabulary, just the disgust. Put her right in line with Inkheart as willing to deal with this without Long Pengi’s involvement. They hadn’t known each other long, hadn’t been that close, but she'd liked Death Proof. The poor girl deserved better than this.
“Y'all can do whatever your conscience tells you to, 'course. Have as much sympathy for the devil as y'like. But me, hell, I’m a bad person, I ain’t gonna lose any sleep over seein’ the last of this one. He’s done worse t'better.”
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Rage of Honor | Gator | 1.3 | RE: Pinocchio, Court Stenographer(?)
As calm as Inkheart is when he gets accused… Gator is not. Her face clouds over for a moment. Her fingers dig into the back of her chair. And then she’s grinning again, wide and wild- hey, look who’s finally back, it’s her old buddy Being Pissed Off. It feels good. Like part of what she’s been missing since arriving here coming back to her.
But she waits. To her mind, that’s what’s different between her and Alvin: he has to start yowling the instant something rude to say crosses his mind. She can save it up for when she needs it, let Source Code have her say and Josie have her peek. That’s what makes Alvin a funny little housecat and her a tiger.
“Well, well. Thinkin’ we can probably clear Inkheart ‘n’ Death Proof from suspicion on this one, especially on account of they’re basically harmless. Here’s a theory for everybody t'mull over. Anybody considered maybe Death Proof was smilin’ because she achieved the secret dream of all Disney adults: gettin’ stabbed by Goofy himself?”
At last, she steps out from behind her chair, gesturing in Pinocchio’s direction like, hey, get a load of this guy. The words are flowing free now, her mouth is working without her brain involved at all, building up a head of steam, and that’s always when it’s the best. That’s when she’s really flying.
“Oh, oh, tall people, I ain’t one'a those. Oops, gawrsh, I just plum forgot about chairs! I mean, really? Guy pretends like he ain’t been loomin’ over just about everybody here the whole time? Forget the splotch, the Onceler’s backup dancer over here is suspicious as hell just from the way he’s been talkin’.”
The real crime is that Pengi is relying on voting for this. Inkheart’s time had it right; it should’ve stayed trial by combat. She can feel eyes on her as she talks shit. She wants them to see what it looks like as she delivers hell. She has not been able to play her role in what feels like forever, and getting to do half of it here feels like a splash of cold water in the desert and not nearly enough.
“If Pinocchio ain’t guilty an’ he’s just goin’ around with his breakfast all over himself, I think we ought t'consider convictin’ him anyway on grounds of bein’ the kinda guy who’d think it was funny t'wear a spinnin’ bow-tie. Which is serial killer shit t'me. Anyway, hey, Pinocchio, let’s see that tattoo you’re hidin’, hey? Where’d Pengi hide it?”
Gator scoffs. She returns to her seat, and then pauses to add one last important detail. Possibly the most important thing anyone’s said this whole trial.
“Don’t put in the record that I’m mad 'cause he outdid me at ping pong, by the way, it’s 'cause I’m mad about spurious accusations bein’ thrown at my pals. I’m, uh-” She glances at Inkheart for a second, trying to get a hint for the word she means, it’s some knight shit, she’s pretty sure. “Honooorrrrrr….bound?? Yeah, that sounds right. I’m honorbound t'defend 'em, that’s the gym code, an’ that’s all I’m fired up about. Do write down that I’m the best at ping pong, actually, while you’re at it, though.”
Satisfied with this, she sinks down into her chair again. Her spot’s over. Let’s see what everybody else has to say.
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Gymkata | Gator | 1.2 | RE: Alvin & Pinocchio?
Gator gets to her feet again, stepping behind the chairs to pace back and forth in her own little free zone without stomping on anyone’s feet. She makes a mental note to ask Pengi for a treadmill or something in here. Lifting cage, maybe. Making her use her brain AND sit still is too large of an ask. No reason not to run her mouth while real thoughts are percolating, at least.
“First of all, y'can tell Death Proof ain’t the killer without trustin’ Pengi. She’s - WAS - one'a my gym buddies. If she wanted t'do a murder, she woulda just walked up ‘n’ done it without all this Wile E. Coyote bullshit.”
Gator slams her fist into her palm like she’s just scored some incredible point. Sure, Death Proof might have been a scrawny little runt, but she WAS one of Gator’s Gym Buddies. Therefore, she could have Handled It. The logic is unassailable, as far as she’s concerned.
“An’ second, what Alvin 'n’ Pinocchio are sayin’ over there? If we’re lookin’ for a soggy set'a clothes, we got one, don’t we? One'a them dryers has a bundle of clothes in it. Only thing is I ain’t sure about the timin’ of all that. Room’s sealed, ain’t it? Like, you’d have t'start those dryin’ before or durin’ the murder, not after? Or am I missin’ somethin’?”
By now she’s made her way down to the empty seats, where she pauses. She frowns to herself and shakes her head. Turns back towards her own seat, pacing in that direction. Even beyond the dryer, there’s still plenty of loose ends dangling in all this that’ll need to be tied up, like-
“One more thing. There’s unattended Pengi Coins scattered all over the damn place. Anybody know what those’re about? If they ain’t important, I got dibs.”
Gotta keep your eye on the prize, it seems. Airing of thoughts finished for the moment, Gator posts up behind her chair, leaning over the back to watch the proceedings continue. No point sitting down again just yet when she might need to pipe up who knows when.
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I asked my wife, Nissa, who her Florida Man persona would be.
Nissa “They’d call me the Swamp Lady. I’d be convinced that I’m an alligator. I’d walk around town naked. They’d kick me out of Walmart because I keep coming in with an alligator and I’d tell people he’s my husband.
"Eventually they’d get so sick of kicking me out that they’d just meet me out in the parking lot with old rotisserie chickens they’re about to throw out just so I’d leave.”
Me “You walk around with an alligator under your arm?”
Nissa “No he’d follow me. Because I give him rotisserie chickens! People would go out look for gators, shine lights out into the swamp, and see me standing there waist deep in water. My eyes reflecting the light like the dozens of the gators around me. In my arms? A half eaten rotisserie chicken. Why? Who would your Florida Man persona be?”
Me “I have to follow that!?”
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challenge // day 32
rat seemed more fitting here so no opossum censor today !!
gator is all i’ve been playing and thinking about i can’t get her out of my head please send me art and artist of snoot and iwhtg pleaseplease
she’s genuinely so pretty i love her sososo much
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no bc……let’s talk about it. (also this ended up being a full on smutty blurb, whoops!!!!!!!)
in his free time, gator is 1000% playing video games that you could care less about. (and maybe you guys are a lil gaming couple but you prefer actually FUN games like the sims or stardew valley or animal crossing but that’s neither here nor there. anyway.) and tbh you get a little upset that you drove all the way to the ranch just for him to be sitting at his desk playing games w some dickwads he went to high school with that he doesn’t even hang out with irl, so you crawl over to him and lay your head on his thigh with the biggest, saddest eyes you can muster, and all he does is pat your cheek and mouth later to you — and you damn near lose it, because who does this man think he is?
so that’s when you decide you’ve had enough. slowly, your fingers dip beneath the waistband of his pants, moving just carefully enough to where he assumes you’re just being antsy, untucking his shirt and popping open the button to his trousers to pull them down. he notices you then, furrows his eyebrows, but you barely give him a chance to stop you before you loop your fingers around his half-hard length, drooling over the tip. his plump lips form an o-shape and he leans back in his chair, his hand finding the back of your head.
there’s a moment where he can stop you. where he can log off and pay you the attention you deserve.
he does neither, and it makes the act that much dirtier.
when he’s fully hard, you take him to the back of your throat, gagging around his girth so spit pools down to his balls. he mutters out a holy fuck, low enough so no one he’s gaming with can hear him. his eyes flutter shut when you work him with your slick hand as your mouth worships his balls, sucking and licking at them because you know it’ll get him there that much faster. when his thighs start to shake, you quickly move back onto his tip, jerking the rest of him off in your hand, suckling until you feel him explode in your mouth.
you take everything he gives you, watching as he silently comes above you. he bites his fist so he doesn’t moan into the microphone on his headset, but his friends notice that his character hasn’t moved in awhile.
“fuckin— I-I’ll be online later,” he mutters, ripping the headset off. you drop your mouth open to show him the cum you’ve collected on your tongue, giggling at the dirty look he’s currently sporting. “you’re a dirty lil’ minx, you know that?”
you swallow, and gator groans. “should’ve just given me attention to start with.”