#AFTER LIFE SWEEEEEP

[sexiestpodcastcharacter]

Sexiest Podcast Character — Unscripted Bracket — Round 5

Propaganda

Glenn Close (Dungeons & Daddies):

#Propaganda for Glenn Close: one of the other PCs mentions multiple times how hot he is #Actually several characters point it out but especially Henry #Also the only person in a podcast that has to put a disclaimer about not being a BDSM podcast to have had sex during the course of the show

Young hot rocker dilf

Loyal to his dead wife <3

Does in fact smoke weed

BARD!! HES A BARD. HE WAS LEAD GUITAR IN HIS BAND (that he was kicked out of)

His band was a Christmas cover band btw.

Literally the fandom had hot Glenn summer which consisted of drawing him being incredibly hot and sexy

Anti government (ofc)

Kind of cringefail (Disney adult) (was on dilfs of disneyland)

Young and sexy not your style? Then how about HIM AFTER YEARS LOCKED IN A TIME PRISON WITH A DAMN HANNIBAL MASK ??

Lost an eye and wears a fucking eyepatch

One incredibly buff arm

Has a pet rat named after his son <3

Immeasurable amounts of trauma in this man- becomes progressively more unhinged

OH OLD HUMAN BARD ISNT CUTTING IT? FINE

HE BECOMES A FUCKING DEMON

A COOL HOT ONE-EYED DEMON WHO WANTS TO KILL HIS DAD (also sexy)

HE CANONICALLY ENDS CHRISTIAN HELL VIA CHRISTMAS

IS ALSO WAY OVERLEVELED

Becomes a demon hunter for the rest of his existence

Also nonwhite !!! We are done with cringefail whiteboys !!!!!!!!!

I can’t put into words ok just know he is the best plz love him.

Okay but Glenn made a minivan cum by talking to her so

HE HAS A BOOK THAT HE MARKS X’S AND CHECKS FOR EVERY DAY TO SEE IF THAT DAY WAS A SUCCESS OR NOT. TO SEE IF HE DID GOOD THAT DAY. ITS ALMOST ENTIRELY X’S. HE WAS CUCKED OUT OF A SON. AND A DEAD WIFE. HE DIDN’T EVEN GET TO KILL HIS DAD IN REVENGE. There’s absolutely nothing going for him except his sex appeal in his life. Nobody he loved remembers him. He lost his eye. All he has is a pet rat and friends who admit they don’t really like him that much. He was kicked out of his own band. The band was named after him. He was kicked out of the Glenn Close trio. All he could do was deez nuts the big bad and be sexy. If nothing else, then pity him. Look in his eyes. Look at his heart and soul. He did not do the BDSM episode for this I’ll tell you what. Do this for my his sake. Do it for Nick Jr, who needs the prize money to pay for his rat snacks. Do it for his son. For Morgan. Ganbatte.

Glenn is the goofiest sexiest character there is and I will die on this hill! I will ride into battle for him! what Dndads created is truly unique and Glenn is a key part of that and for that he deserves to win. I said it before and I'll say it again - GLENN SWEEEEEP

Can we talk about how he says ‘baby’ casually? Like he just calls people that?? That’s HOT. THAT IS HOT!! He’s also bilingual and knows Japanese!!!! He’s a big dumb idiot with a lot of charisma!!!!!! HE WORKED AT A BDSM PLACE FOR TWO SEPARATE ONE SHOTS. HES SO SAD BUT PLAYS IT OFF LIKE HE’S CHILL ALL THE TIME!! HE DOESN’T THINK OF HIMSELF AS SINGLE BECAUSE HE DIDN’T DIVORCE HIS DEAD WIFE!!! He’s like.. the perfect guy. We need this win.

I’d also like to add the fact I made this. Which is the first 11 episodes edited to (almost) only have Glenn in them <3 which is a level of insanity I hope to reiterate. These took hours to make. I wouldn’t do that for anyone else.

Mod Note: While I will still take "bad dads are sexy" propaganda and "bad dads aren't sexy" anti-propaganda, I kindly request no more discussion on whether or not he was a bad father. This is a sexypoll, not a parentingpoll. If you see a post you strongly disagree with, you can just not reblog it.

Mod Note 2: This tournament is about fictional podcast characters. Please do not vote for the real actress Glenn Close.

Amber Gris (The Adventure Zone: Ethersea):

Middle aged woman who punches sharks to death. My hero

If you love me you'll vote for amber gris I swear to everything holy on earth amen

Amber is butch, instant win

Amber Gris has a negative charisma modifier and she pissed her pants on purpose in order to trick a guard and knock him out. She tied up a dude. She once killed an evil magic shark (they're out for murder. not like real sharks) by punching it and then picked it up and smashed it into another shark, also killing it. She talks in a southern accent. She calls people guppy because it indicates a lack of respect. She has a big pair of magical green arms that come from her stomach. She got a fancy jacket and immediately ripped its sleeves off. She has a gay thing going on with one of the political leaders in the city. She gets in fights with people and doesnt do vulnerability and tries to lay low and not get in any social trouble she doesn't have to. She jumped through a portal into a new world because she could. She's now the god of said world, alone with only afformentioned political leader, who was previously possessed and she had to fight. She spends her time in a bar called the Cloaca. She calls people she doesn't like claspers, because it means shark penis. She and her friend, an old man named Uncle Joshy, sneak attack each other and yell VIBE CHECK! She tries to talk fancy to impress people and she's really bad at it (verily).

She’s everything and more. She’s irreverent. She punches sharks for a living. She becomes God. What more do you need in a butch.

amber gris propaganda: she is straightup the physical embodiment of "women want me, fish fear me." also she's an appalachian post apocalyptic sea captain. that's just objectively cool.

AMBER GRIS IS PUNCHES SHARKS AND IS (one of) THE MOST BADASS BLACK WOMEN PCS IN DND SHOWS IVE EVER SEEN. SHES INCREDIBLE AND A WIN FOR DYKES EVERYWHERE

amber's creator said she was based off of the type of working-class woman you commonly see in appalachia where "this is the sort of woman that you see walking past CVS, and you know that a truck could hit her and it would just split around her as she continued to go pick up whatever she had to do that day." and that's pretty hot

guys Amber becomes lesbian god of the new world with her childhood “”friend””

#amber gris is LITERALLY a middle-aged butch #she would win this entire tournament in a just world

Last time Amber got horny was when she killed that shark

"it was a savage bummer though, don't-- trust me, there's nothing that great about a history. You know? I got one. What did I do, killed a bunch of sharks? Last time I got horny, god and christ I can't even tell you-- well, it was when I killed that shark. But! Hey. We're all just kinda figuring it out."

Moonshine Cybin (Not Another D&D Podcast: Bahumia):

She's a hot elf with mushrooms growing on her. She has 1 level of barbarian. She's bisexual. She shapeshifted into a dragon and ate a god.

how tf does the post not mention Moonshine’s giant boobs her greatest asset

Moonshine has canonically gone down on a woman for a solid hour without asking for anything in return. Moonshine edged a dryad just by kissing them. Moonshine faced down someone being controlled to kill everyone in his path and told him if he still wanted to hurt her, she would take his blows as a friend. Moonshine makes jambalaya for her family and friends. Moonshine mispronounced someone’s name for a month and that woman still wanted to hook up with Moonshine. These are just a few of the reasons why Moonshine is sexy.

shes illiterate

canonically huffs dirty water from a bong

has big tatas

wears a belly chain with a demon trapped in it

almost became the queen of hell

ate a god

turned into a pregnant moose & gave birth

The woman she went down on for an hour asking nothing in return is still hung up on her, 200 years later. Moonshine is unmatched

To be clear the woman whose name Moonshine mispronounced for a month and then hooked up with is the same woman she went down on for an hour, and the same woman who is still flustered over her 200 years later. The rizz is unparalleled. She’s also incredibly kind and accepting of others, and goes out of her way to bolster her friends. The party always requests one big bed.

moonshine cybin is a druid who learned counterspell through sheer force of will. moonshine cybin turned one of the four horsemen of the apocalypse into a dolphin, flew him 60 feet up into the air, dropped him on the ground, and then spit spores into his face to kill him. moonshine cybin turned into a dragon and bit the head off of a double god. moonshine cybin was willing to confine herself to an eternal hell to save the world. moonshine cybin is a dragon rider. you know what you must do.

Amber and Moonshine Together

Look at them. They should not have to fight when they could be gay instead. Imagine the power they would have combined... Every lesbian in a hundred mile radius of the post would swoon. It may be an odd alliance, but from an Ethersea fan to Bahumia fans, i believe this will strengthen both our odds. I have always been insane about Amber Gris but through this poll I have also learned about Moonshine and come to love her too. Take my hand... We can do this together...

OKAY HEAR ME OUT MOONSHINE AND AMBER WOULD GET ALONG SO WELL

appalachian sapphic solidarity!

Art of Amber and Moonshine from @pirateknight.

#Round 5 #Glenn Close #Glenn Close DnDads #Moonshine Cybin #Amber Gris #Not Another D&D Podcast #Bahumia #The Adventure Zone #TAZ Ethersea #Dungeons & Daddies #Dungeons and Daddies

[h4rr3h]

Harry and Evan were as platonic as platonic could be. Living together does that. You see their unlivable quirks; like how they always leave the toilet seat up, or how they never rinse their dishes, or how they never fully close the chip bag so they end up stale. And after six years of living together, Harry and Evan knew each other’s quirks well. The pair were long gone from their college days and fully immersed in the confusing reality of adulthood. Navigating your twenties is hard, but with your best friend by your side, it makes the whole disarray just that much easier. But, Harry has a secret, one that he’s been hiding from his best friend since the day they met, and she’s about to find out. Especially now that Niall spilled about the “Ohio Incident”. A lesson on facing your fears, being too old for college parties, cronuts (are those even still a thing?) and finding things out just a bit too late.

ohio is for lovers, chapter one evan bosco and the greatest one night stand that never happened

Since they day they met, Harry Styles knew Evan Bosco would take him on the ride of his life.

Sunday, March 25, 2018

185 Bleecker Street, Apartment 11A, New York, NY

Since they day they met, Harry Styles knew Evan Bosco would take him on the ride of his life.

 “Get up! Get up!” She hollers, jumping on the edge of his bed.

 It’s eight o’clock on a Sunday morning. Harry is hoping for another hour of sleep, Evan is hoping for Harry’s homemade pancakes.

 “I want breakfast!” She grumbles, like a child.

 Harry knows he won’t say no. God, he could never say no to this girl, “make them yourself.” He groans, pushing his face into his pillow.

 Evan jumps closer, and Harry grabs her ankle and wiggles her around a bit. She stumbles but puts her palm against the ceiling to stable her balance. She’s wearing one of his jumpers with a pair of pajama shorts underneath. He pretends that he can’t see the eggplant shaped birthmark on her inner thigh. That’s not his territory.

 “Let gooooo - “

 Harry tugs on her leg, pulling her onto him. Evan laughs in protest but wraps her arms around him, hugging him close, throwing a leg over his lap, “Pancakes?” She jets her bottom lip out and he gives in.

 “Pancakes.”

Thursday, August 23, 2012 Washington Square Diner

150 West 4th Street, New York, NY

Harry Styles is not a fan of decaf coffee. But it’s three in the morning and he was about to round his thirtieth hour of no sleep and he reckoned if he had another drip of caffeine he would surely die of a heart attack at the age of eighteen. The chemical always heightened his senses. He was all too aware of the bored waitress sweeping behind the counter of empty display cases that in just a few hours time will hold bagels and pastries galore. Her rhythm is off key when she moves to the left, it’s a sweep, sweeeeep instead of a short quick sweep sweep.

 There are four other people in Washington Square Diner with him; an old man sitting on the furthest inside seat of counter, a punk looking couple, and a simple girl. The old geezer is leaned up so gingerly against the brick facade wall that Harry worries that the slightest gust of wind from an incoming customer might knock him over. He’s clearly asleep, or drunk, or dead. The couple are picking at the paper placemats laid in front of them despite a table full of hot, greasy food. And finally the girl, that damn girl.

 Sweep, Sweeeeep.

 Evan Bosco sits at the other end Washington Square Diner, earbuds in, but nothing playing. People leave you alone when they think you’re listening to music. She picks at her stack of pancakes, so soaked with syrup that they’re sticky and too sickly sweet for the common human. But that was how she liked them. Evan pretends not to notice the red eyed boy staring wide eyed at the scene around him.

 He must be a tourist, she thinks.

 She listens to the peaceful pattern of sweeps from the lonely waitress behind the counter. Another mouthful of pancakes washed down by her cup of black coffee and she’s counted twice now since the boy with bloodshot eyes has caught her sightline again. Old Man Figgins snorts in his sleep and Evan attempts to hide her bemusement. Mitch and Hannah in the front and center booth are high on Molly or X or whatever fad drug they were doing this week. Evan catches Harry’s eye again. Only she doesn’t know him as Harry, at least not yet. For now, he was the zombie boy who caught her gaze in between staring into his untouched mug of coffee and looking around him like he was hiding from something.

 Harry’s shoulders ache. He supposes it’s his bad posture, or at least that what his mother would tell him. He shifts his weight in the booth, the squeak of the fake leather seat whining as he makes a feeble attempt to stretch his sore muscles.

 Sweep, Sweeeeep.

 The air smells sweet like maple syrup and powdered sugar. The scent almost makes him nauseous. He glares down at the room temperature cup of decaf coffee and lets out a little sob to himself. Harry winces before the taste even hits his lips.

 Fucking decaf, he complains to himself.

 He can’t tell if the girl with honey hair sitting on the other side of the Diner is looking at him on purpose or not. Her hair is pulled back in a low bun, strands still falling in her face. She hides almond eyes behind a pair of oversized wire rimmed glasses that look like they belong to the elderly man asleep (or dead) at the counter instead of a young woman. There’s a crinkle in her forehead when he catches her looking again.

 It’s then that he notices the sweeping has stopped.

 Evan rises from her seat, but not without shoving another bite of pancake into her mouth. She licks her sticky lips and crosses the Diner in thirteen strides to the back corner booth where the boy is sitting. He looks even worse for wear up close. His greenish (although they look dull under the pale Diner lighting) eyes are bloodshot to hell and, along with red rimmed eyes, he has bags so dark Evan wondered for a moment if he’d been recently socked in the face. She notices he’d put far too much creamer in his coffee, it sits so beige and stagnant in the white mug with roadmap-like hairpin cracks along the edge of its mouth.

 Something like this wasn’t rash for Evan Bosco. She was used to flighty strangers in the night, whether she was at the park or the Diner, or the Subway station. New York really was the city that never slept, in the sense that the people who inhabited it were walking talking zombies who drank expensive coffee and ate fad pastries instead of brains, just shuffling and grunting onto their next stop. It was these strange hours of the night a few times a month that Evan stepped away from the hustle and bustle of simply existing in such an exhausting city and took some time to pause.

 She met some interesting people along the way, like Hannah and Mitch who would sometimes pay for her pancakes if they were feeling up to it and offered her drugs she’d never take. Or Old Man Figgins, who smelled faintly of cat pee thanks to the dozen or so cats he had collected in his studio apartment around the corner on MacDougal Street.

 Why was she coming towards him? Harry thinks, She’s probably coming to tell me to fuck off.

 But she doesn’t, and Evan slides gracefully into his booth and it takes him a moment to resonate that the girl he’d been staring at for the better part of forty-five minutes is staring back him from across the table.

 And she smells like maple syrup.

 Neither of them speak when she sits, Harry looks into his mug like he’s waiting for it to tell him its greatest secrets.

 “I’ve never seen someone look so somberly at a mug of coffee.” Evan states.

 Harry blinks once, “it’s decaf.”

 That explains it, she thinks. Also, nice accent.

 “Why’re you drinking that?” She questions.

 He shrugs, What an odd question.

 Odd question for an odd girl.

 He rips open a sugar packet and dumps it in, hoping it will mask the flavor (it won’t), “too much caffeine. Been up too long. Need to sleep sometime I suppose.”

 Evan nods her head, “so why do you keep staring at me? Do I have something in my teeth?”

 She curls her lips up and bares a white smile to Harry. He tries his best not to smile too much back at her. He pulls his coffee mug to his mouth to try and hide it.

 “Just wonderin’ what you were doing here,” he mutters, lips pressed to the edge of the porcelain mug.

 Evan rips tiny tears into the edges of the paper placemat, “could ask you the same thing.”

 “This is the city that never sleeps, am I right?”

 She rolls her eyes, what a cliche tourist thing to say.

 “I guess,” she huffs, “this is really the only place around here that’s open twenty-four hours. I come here when I need to think.”

 Harry rolls his eyes, what a cliche teenage girl thing to say.

 “And what do you think about?” He quizzes.

 By now Evan has made it three quarters of the way around her placemat and she’s mentally scanning the rest of the table for things to occupy her fingertips; the napkins, sugar packets, a dollar store miniature coloring book with three waxy crayons in red, yellow and blue.

 She shrugs, how terribly invasive, she thinks to herself. Although it’s exciting. She’s spent most of her time in and out of this city. Between dad’s work and travels she’s seen the inside of airport terminals so often she thought she ought to have a punch card for the JFK airport. There’s something fuzzy growing in her stomach and it makes her want to throw up, but in the most exhilarating way possible. She can be anyone tonight. Anyone to this person. She’s not her father’s daughter who shares the same bright eyes and sense of adventure and terrible nail biting habit. And she’s definitely not the girl that Jacob Huckabee just dumped twelve hours ago in a Starbucks on Bleecker Street.

 “I think about the color blue, and the way that the sky looks right before the sun rises,” Evan plucks out a crayon from the little cardboard box and flips her edge torn paper placemat to the blank white side, “I think about this city and how, despite us being constantly surrounded by other people that we never actually touch them,” she draws a cluster of stick figures inside of a box below a deep blue crayon sky, “sure, we may bump into them on the sidewalk or the subway but we don’t interact with more than a mumble of a sorry or barely even that. All these damn people and then they bump into other people and it just keeps going on and on-,” Evan drags the circle around the box a few times, “for seemingly forever. One-point-six million people just bumping into each other, day in and day out.”

 Harry raises an eyebrow. He pulls the red crayon from the box and turns the paper around to him, scribbling hair and smiley faces  on two of the stick figures standing side by side before presenting it back to her, “and then there’s us.”

 “You never answered my question,” Evan replies, “about what you’re doing here. I’ve never seen you here before tonight.”

 Harry doesn’t like questions, mostly because he never really has an answer. He was at the Washington Square Diner and three thirty in the morning because he was wired on caffeine, jet lagged, stressing about his upcoming first year at university, and well, hungry.

 “You’ve met all one point six million people in this city?” He raises an eyebrow. Evan folds her arms and he caves. “And I was hungry.”

 There’s a wrinkle of questioning between Evan’s eyes that causes her glasses to slip ever so slightly, “you don’t have any food.”

 Harry shrugs.

 Evan reaches for the last crayon, the yellow one, and draws a door that leads out of the stick figure clustered box and past the circle of repetition and to the blank part of the placemat.

 “Want to get out of here?” She asks.

 Harry isn’t sure what this girl is asking. Is she trying to sleep with me? He thinks. Not that it would be the worst way this night (morning?) could end.

 “Sure.”

 Evan smiles and damn near pulls him straight from the booth. Harry grabs the paper placemat with the torn edges and their drawing and folds it neatly, “in case we get lost we’ll always know where to find each other,” he says before tucking it into his back pocket.

 Old man Figgins wakes up when the front door of Washington Square Diner slams shut. It’s a fairly warm night. There’s no wind and the air is stagnant with summer’s leftovers. A slight lick of humidity fills the air; it’s stale, old, recycled. Just like this damn city. It’s a smell that Harry can’t place and one that Evan just calls “that city smell”. It’s mechanical, but still manages to smell like greasy chinese food after its sat out for too long, mixed with the slight wet dog smell of this evening’s rainstorm.

 Harry and Evan run down the sidewalk of West 4th Street towards Washington Square Park. Evan’s not much of a runner, especially with a stomach full of sticky pancakes and black coffee.

 Harry isn’t sure why they’re running. Is it a race? No, she’s not running fast enough for that. Is she running away from him? No, she’s smiling every time he looks at her to check her pace. She grabs his hand and drags him further, her hand is soft in his.

 Evan isn’t quite sure why she’s running. Overtired? Maybe, she should’ve been in bed hours ago. Craziness? Probably, she’s felt every emotion crammed into a half day and still lived to tell about it.

 They enter the park at the corner of Macdougal and Washington Square South.

 With heavy breaths, they fall to the ground in a fit of laughter, two strangers in the middle of the night. If this were a romantic comedy, Harry probably would’ve kissed her. But all he could notice in this moment was the way that the sidewalk lamp posts glowed in the reflection of her glasses and that her blue eyes looked so bright he thought he could’ve fallen in love right there on the spot.

 Harry didn’t really believe in love at first sight or even really love at all for that matter. It was a thing for saps and Hallmark cards. But, by God, he swore he saw the rest of his life with this girl flash in front of his eyes when she shut hers and placed her hand over his.

 “So what’s the plan?” He asks, when his breath finally catches up to him.

 Evan lets out a breathy laugh, “that’s one thing you’ll learn about me, I never have a plan.”

 Sunday, March 25, 2018

185 Bleecker Street, Apartment 11A, New York, NY

 It’s like a dance routine, the way that Harry and Evan work around their tiny apartment kitchen. They’ve mastered the art of passing by the other to get a utensil from the opposite end of the counter. Harry knows to dip slightly to the left when Evan reaches above his head for the mixing bowls; all her weight rested on her right foot, her left one extended backwards behind her. It’s choreographed teamwork.

 “Shit, we’re out of chocolate chips,” Evan groans as she digs through the cupboard.

 Harry’s got his Kiss the Cook apron on, mixing bowl full of raw pancake batter cradled in one arm and whisk in the other, “when did we run out?”

 “I made those cookies for Poll’s party a couple weeks ago.”

 “You didn’t write it in on the shopping list,” Harry tuts.

 Evan glares over the tops of her glasses, “shut up,” she say, kicking him swiftly on the ass.

 He does that cocky little smirk that causes the crease of his dimples to indent even more. Evan swears she’s detested  it since the day she met him, but that’s only because it causes one single butterfly in her lower stomach to flutter for just a fraction of a moment that happens so quickly, the first few times it happened she could’ve sworn she was imagining things.

 “So what’s on the agenda today?” Harry asks.

 Evan shrugs, shaking away the butterfly, “Huck had something he wants to do later. He was scarce on the details.”

 “Isn’t he always?” Harry quips.

 Evan hates when her best friend takes jabs at her boyfriend. Sure, Harry and Huck get along as well as they probably ever could, but there’s those backhanded compliments and little quips between comments that they fire at one another that makes her think one of them is bound to get sucker punched one of these days.

 It’s the second time in the course of sixty seconds that Evan tells Harry to shut up, but this time it’s with a little more fervor and he takes the hint. At least for now.

 “Maybe it’s a surprise,” Harry wiggles his fingers dramatically.

 “Eh,” Evan starts, “he’s not really one for surprises,” she acts nonchalant but her head swirls with ideas.

 They spin together to swap sides of the kitchen, pressed chest to chest for the briefest moment. Evan chuckles to herself at the sight of Harry’s tattoo-laden bare chest under his apron. A sizzling sound sparks in the air when Harry pours the batter into the hot pan, tiny bubbles forming up. Two steps to the left and Evan is pulling out more milk for their coffee that’s been steeping in the French press. They cheers with their matching monogrammed mugs that Harry still insists drinking out of even though his has a chip on the lip.

 “I can’t wait for the day you cut your mouth open on that mug so I can dance around the apartment screaming ‘told ya so!’”

 Harry winks and takes a sip from the side with the chip and the mug rubs against slightly rough spot on the inside of his upper lip where it’s cut him over and over in the past but this time there’s no metallic taste of blood mixed with his coffee.

 Outside the front door of apartment 11A, Jake Huckabee can smell the sweet scent of pancakes outside of his girlfriend’s apartment. While he much preferred waffles, after pulling an all nighter studying for Monday’s exam, pancakes would just have to do right now. He knocks four times in rapid succession and can hear the gentle pat pat of Evan’s feet against the hardwood floors.

 “Baby, you look so tired,” Evan groans to her boyfriend, holding her hands on either side of his face.

 She slides them down to his shoulders, giving them a single squeeze before wrapping her arms around his neck. Jake presses his forehead into her collarbone and peppers kisses along her neck. Evan giggles and pulls him into the apartment, kicking the door shut behind him.

 Harry tries not to stare at their spectacle and finishes up the first round of pancakes, “have a fresh batch ready to go!” Harry says a little too loudly, his voice cracking a bit at the end.

 Evan laces her fingers with Huck and pulls him to the kitchen. The dance is disturbed now by Huck standing like an awkward fucking giant in the middle of the kitchen. Evan bumps into him with a hot pan of cooked bacon and he winces and rubs the rapidly forming burn on his arm, Harry steps on his big toe while backing up to get the syrup from the cupboard.

 “Hey Huck, can you put this stuff on the table?” Harry asks, slightly annoyed, but mostly just to get him out of the fucking way.

 “Sure, man,” he replies, giving Evan a kiss on the forehead before putting the plate of fresh pancakes on the tiny dining table in what was supposed to be the other half of the living room.

 Living in a New York City apartment, especially when you’re barely able to cover rent and food, is like playing a real life game of tetris. The buildings are full of right angles and corners and straight lines, and the rooms take on multiple uses. The living room becomes a dining room on Sunday morning but a dance hall on Saturday nights. The weird corner in the kitchen that’s too small for a table but too big for a bar cart becomes a place for Harry and Evan’s ‘his and hers’ cats to perch and catch some morning rays. The bedrooms double as therapist offices and gymnasiums. And so on, and so forth.

 The threesome settles at the dining table and it’s a symphony of scraping forks and Huck’s cow chewing because of a deviated septum from a broken nose as a kid. They’ve had many a morning like this. Harry would be stupid to act like this didn’t happen every goddamn Sunday morning and now especially since Evan and Huck saw less of each other because of his spastic medical school schedule, time was precious.

 “So how goes Ye Olde Med School?” Harry asks, letting his fork scrape against his teeth for a second or two too long.

 Huck rubs his tired eyes. The classes are exhausting and seemingly never ending, the course load is enough to make anyone’s goddamn head explode, he sleeps an average of four hours a night, and he spends so much time in the library he can’t remember what day of the week it is most of the time.

 “It’s good,” he says simply.

 Thursday, August 23, 2012

Washington Square Park, New York, NY

 “So what are you thinking about now?” He asks.

 “Are you a therapist?” Evan questions in a dry tone.

 She opens her eyes and rolls her head over to face him, she can feel the soft tickle of the grass on her cheek. It’s quiet, and that’s saying something for the city. There’s the ever present sirens in the distance and honks and the other white noise static she’s become accustomed to. After all the places in the world that her father had taken her on his work trips, she detested the fact that he had to settle on New York City when it came time to take the promotion and settle down. Now he was the Editor-in-Chief of Travel Lately; one of those boujee travel magazines that showcased resorts and accommodations only the one-percent could afford. It was a modest upbringing when her father was just a measly travel writer carting his daughter around the world. But he was amazing at what he did and made good connections, and well, things changed. Now he spent 9-5 in an office building surrounded by glass walls and computer monitors the size of big screen televisions.

 “I’m interested in what you have to say,” Harry says, plainly. He’s turned his head over too and Evan can feel his breath feather across her face. He smells of coffee and mint.

 Is he trying to sleep with me? She thinks. Men are all the same.

 Evan rolls onto her side, propping her face up on her palm and surveys Harry. He’s laying on his back, hands folded on his stomach. His breathing is light and steady in perfect rhythm. His heart is racing, and she can hear. Even his heart beat is in sync with his breathing and she wondered how in the Hell anyone could be so in tune. Harry’s eyes are more green than she noticed in the diner; they looked more hazel under the fluorescents and she spots a pair of swallow tattoos just below his collar bone poking out from above his shirt. She reaches out to trace one.

 “I already told you what I think about, and what I was doing in the Diner. How about you answer some questions, buddy?” She finishes dragging her finger across his skin, his body emitting shivers under her touch.

 Harry takes a deep breath to try and recover himself, he wonders if she can hear how fast his heart is racing, “do you want the long or short version?”

 “Long,” she smiles, “we’ve got another couple hours until sunrise.”

 Evan listens intently while he speaks, “well, I got here this afternoon, from England, if you couldn’t tell.”

 She could.

 “I’m starting University on Tuesday and I’m scared shitless. I already hate this city. It’s so loud and lonely despite the fact you are never actually alone anywhere...ever,” he continues, “you have to wait twenty minutes for a seven dollar cup of coffee that takes less time to drink than it took for you to get it. It’s so goddamn loud. I don’t think I’ve heard a second of silence since I’ve gotten here. And there’s tourists, like, everywhere. It’s exhausting.”

 “Shit, I’d hate to see what you’ll be like after a month,” Evan quips.

 “Dead, hopefully.”

 There’s a playful smirk on his face and it makes Evan feel things she shouldn’t feel about a complete stranger, “Where are you going to school?”

 “NYU-”

 “Wait are you shitting me?” Evan sits up, clutching her chest.

 Harry is confused, “no?”

 “I’m going there too! That’s so cool! Small world, huh?” She jabs his ribs, “so what made you decide to cross the world to come to school?”

 He lets out a stream of breath, it comes out as a low whistle, “...my best friend talked me into it. Wanted something different, I suppose. If I stayed home I’d probably be working in my parent’s little pub. Sold me into the whole big city thing and here I am.”

 “So where’s he?” Evan asks.

 Harry shrugs, “probably at home.”

 “What’s his name?”

 “You ask a lot of questions,” Harry tuts.

 Evan rolls her eyes, “so says the guy who wants to know what I’m thinking because he’s sooo interested in what I have to say,” she proclaims with faux drama.

 “Fair enough,” Harry starts, “his name is Louis. We met really young. He’s a couple years older, already in school. His family lived next door to my parents growing up. Parents split and his dad stayed in England so he’d spend summers with him and the rest of the year here with his Mum. We just stayed in touch over the years.”

 “So you just dropped everything to move to the states and be with your best friend?”

 Harry thinks about it. That wasn’t really the full reason why. It was just his easiest way out of a drone life of working the pub and then it would eventually be passed on to him like it was his to his Mum and surely onto his children after he grew too old to care for it. It wouldn’t have been a bad life. It’d be comfortable, he’d marry the girl next door and she’d work in a shop up the block from the pub and they’d have a comfortable and familiar existence together and maybe pop out a few kids and go on a couple vacations. But Harry had known from a very young age that that was not what he wanted for himself. So the easiest way out was taking Lou’s advice and getting the fuck out of dodge.

 “I guess, in a way. It’s complicated back home but entirely not at the same time. I needed to get away from the constant sameness of the day to day. I needed something more for myself than what life back home could offer me and he offered to help me out and here I am.”

 Evan clutches her chest again and finds the whole thing so goddamn endearing she may burst. She wants to ask him about home and the best friend that she can thank for bringing him here and about a thousand other things but she doesn’t.

 “That’s so bromantic!”

 Harry rolls his eyes, “does that adequately answer your question?”

 She adjusts herself so that her head is resting on his chest. His heart is racing so fast Evan can feel it thump gently against her and Harry flushes and prays she doesn’t notice.

 She does.

 “For now.”

 She lets her fingers tiptoe on the grass around her. A silence has fallen between them (if you’re not counting Harry’s furiously beating heart) and Evan musters up the courage to ask what she’s about to, “so where are you staying tonight?”

 Harry fumbles with his answer, “uh just some like cruddy hotel until uh I move into the dorms. Louis’ mum’s apartment is cramped enough as it is without me there. W-why do you ask?”

 “Can I see it?”

 He chokes on air. Holy shit she really is trying to sleep with me. He blinks once, “uhm sure, I guess.”

 Sunday, March 25, 2018

185 Bleecker Street, Apartment 11A, New York, NY

 “Does this mean you’ve finally grown a pair of balls?” Niall asks, sipping his beer,  feet resting on the edge of the coffee table.

 Harry pushes his legs off his goddamn coffee table and leans back in his seat, taking a last sip of his drink before slamming the bottle on the table, “no, I’m just going to start being honest. I can’t stand seeing her with that human Valium.”

 “They’ve been together longer than you’ve known her, mate. I think you need to just keep your mouth shut and accept the fact that it’s never going to happen,” Louis chimes in, always the voice of reason.

 “If you tell her does that mean you’re going to stop bringing up your overdone sad sap trope every time she’s not around and you’ve had more than two drinks?” Niall pips casually.

 Louis tries his best not to chuckle, “yeah man, it’s kind of getting old. Either move on or tell her. And personally, I vote don’t tell her. Not after this long, and you live together…it’s just kind of sad and entirely too creepy.”

 “Thanks,” Harry seethes, finishing his beer and getting up for another.

 “Where is she anyways?” Niall asks.

 “Out with the Valium,” Harry sneers. He’s four beers in and feeling brave.

 “Bitter, table of one.” Niall mumbles into his beer.

 Louis rolls his eyes and mentally adds another tick to his count of how many times he has to smooth over something Niall says for Harry’s benefit. Just a normal side effect of having one friend with no filter and another who takes everything much too personally.

 “How’s Jordan?” Louis asks, changing the subject.

 Oh, right, my girlfriend. Harry thinks. Well, at least this week.

 “She’s good. We’re supposed to be going on a weekend trip up north to see her parents in a couple weeks. That should be interesting.”

 “You’ve met her parents like four dozen times, what’s so different this time?” Louis inquires.

 Mr. and Mrs. Charles Meyers of Troy, New York wanted nothing more than for their first born daughter to marry the man of her dreams. Harry was not this man. They were old fashioned, made Harry and Jordan sleep in separate bedrooms whenever they spent a night at their McMansion upstate. But a little after midnight Jordan would sneak into the guest room and snuggle up to Harry for a cuddle or a fuck or whatever they were feeling at that particular time. There’s just something about that boy, they always thought. He was smart, well put together, made good conversation, was respectful to their daughter, but Mr. and Mrs. Meyers knew that Harry Styles was not the man their daughter would marry.

 “It’s their like thirtieth wedding anniversary or some bullshit. So everyone is making a big deal about it and Jordan is asking too many questions about ‘the next step’.”

 “...you mean like normal couples do?” Louis fails to see the clear annoyance in Harry’s tone.

 He groans and puts his face in his hands, “she’s just - I don’t know how to describe it. She’s all over me all the time and then I’ll say something she doesn’t agree with and she’ll dump me for two weeks and then just show up at my door like she hasn’t been cursing my existence for the last fourteen days.”

 Niall pushes his glasses up his nose, “poor Harry, can’t get the girl he wants, can’t get rid of the one he doesn’t. Life is so cruel.”

 “Remind me again why we keep you around?” Harry snickers.

 Niall grins, “for the amazing commentary and real life wisdom.”

 “Yeah,” Harry snorts, “that’s it.”

 Thursday, August 23, 2012

St. Marks Hotel

2 St Marks Pl, New York, NY

 Harry wipes his sweaty palms against his jeans and paces the length of the tiny hotel room four times by the time Evan is done in the bathroom. He’d never had a one night stand before, unless you counted the time he lost his virginity to his first girlfriend who then promptly dumped him the next day. Harry liked to think there was no correlation, but he was just a lousy kisser and an even worse lay at age sixteen.

 He sits at the edge of the bed and it let out a squeaking groan in protest. Whoever was staying next door was surely in for a (loud) treat. He ponders briefly if he should play some music to help set the mood or dim the lights or shut them off completely. The blanket he’s sitting on is scratchy and he swears he can feel it through the fabric of his jeans. Finally, he hears the click of the bathroom door opening and approximately five thoughts process through his head at once;

 One, her hair is down, swung over one shoulder. It’s precise without looking like she did it on purpose (she did). Harry notices a small globe tattoo at the very top of her shoulder.

 Two, she’s taller than he thought, standing in front of him as he’s seated on the edge of the bed frozen with fear. He’s eye level with her bust and now he can hear her heart too.

 Three, her skin is a lot warmer than Harry expected. His hand cups her hip, his thumb toying with the bottom hem of her loose fitting tee shirt.

 Four, she smells like a mixture of seasalt and French vanilla coffee.

 Five, he can’t fucking go through with this.

 “I - I’m sorry, I can’t.”

 Harry stands and backs himself into a corner, biting at his thumbnail, shoulders hunched over. Evan takes a step towards him and he flinches backwards.

 “Have I done something wrong?” She asks. She’s on the verge of tears, mostly from the embarrassment of flinging herself at a total stranger she’d picked up at a fucking Diner, and partially because she misses her boyfriend, well, ex now.

 “No, no. You’re fine. I just can’t sleep with you. You’re great, honestly. I just...can’t do it.”

 “Oh my God,” Evan gasps, “are you gay? I’m so sorry, I just assumed - “

 “No! No I’m not gay,” Harry corrects, “not that there’s anything wrong with that. I’m just, not. I know I’ll regret all of this in the morning and quite possibly the rest of my life -”

 Evan laughs, loud and breathy. It’s more of a relief than anything. She really didn’t want to sleep with Harry either. Although he was quite attractive and interesting and all that but in a way she thought that sleeping with him would cheapen the night. Having sex with him would’ve given the whole spontaneity of everything less meaning and it took him forcing himself into a corner like a terrified puppy for her to realize that.

 “Come here,” she says, sitting down and patting the space of mattress next to her.

 Harry hesitates, his heart still racing as if she were underneath him.

 “I just got dumped,” Evan starts, and he isn’t quite sure why she’s telling him this, “he said that while we were great together, he had to focus on school and his career and I just didn’t fit into that. So I cried, and went to the Diner, ate my weight in pancakes and now I’m here, with you.”

 “I think he’s an idiot,” Harry consoles, holding her hand in his.

 Evan swallows the lump in her throat, “thanks.”

 “No problem.”

 Silence again, and it’s truly quiet for the first time since Harry had arrived in the City. He sighs and savors what he’s sure are going to be far and few in between moments. Evan yawns and rubs her eyes, it’s been a while since she’s been this tired. She’s been tired since she got to the Diner and the night’s ups and downs just added to her exhaustion.

 “You can sleep here if you want,” Harry offers, “or I can call you a cab if you’re not comfortable with that.”

 Evan smiles, “I think I’ll stay here.”

 Sunday, March 25, 2018

185 Bleecker Street, Apartment 11A, New York, NY

 “Where the fuck is Evan?!” Polly hollers from the hallway between apartments 11A and 11B.

 It’s half past seven and the boy’s show at the bar up the street starts in a half hour. Evan never misses show nights on Sundays and Polly is impatient.

 “Relax, maybe she got stuck in traffic,” Louis rubs her lower back, trying to calm down his girlfriend.

 Polly stomps and puts her hands on her hips, “well then she should’ve called! This is so disrespectful. She knows how important - “

 Louis covers her mouth with his palm, “Polls, it’s fine. I’m going to round up Harry and Niall and we’re going to go across the street to get set up. Meet us there in ten?”

 She nods, her stature loosening a bit when he removes his hand, “sorry, I’m PMS-ing,” she defends, folding her arms across her chest.

 “Yeah, I know,” Lou teases before giving her a kiss on the forehead, “I’ll order us a round and you can get nice and blitzed tonight.”

 She chuckles and smacks him on the bum, “go! You’ll be late!”

 Louis goes back into 11A and Polly can hear the faint sounds of him hollering at the other two to hurry up. Pounding footsteps make their way up the hallway and Polly is half pissed, half relieved to finally see her cousin.

 “Finally! I didn’t think you were going to make it,” Polly snapped.

 Evan didn’t respond and just pulled her into the apartment.

 “Everyone to the living room!” She yells excitedly and Polly rolls her eyes and wonders what the hell she’s doing.

 The three boys come rushing into the living room. Huck isn’t far behind and lets himself into the apartment. Evan steps away from her cousin and clutches onto her boyfriend, excitedly biting her lip.

 “What?!” The four friends chime in unison.

 “We’re engaged!” And she holds up her left hand and shiny diamond ring to prove it.

 Niall stifles a laugh into a cough and Harry plans on getting very, very drunk.

 Sunday, August 26, 2012

Goddard Hall

79 Washington Square East, New York, NY

 It had been three days since Evan parted ways with Harry. They hadn’t so much as shared their names with each other, nor phone numbers nor anything else. They fell asleep halfway into an episode of Friends and Evan left when the dawn of morning came. When Harry finally woke up in the early afternoon, he thought maybe she’d been a dream; a toxic combination of too much coffee, not enough sleep and a brand new city. But when he heard a crinkle from his back pocket and pulled out the tattered paper placemat with her drawing, he knew she had, in fact, been for real.

 He couldn’t wait to tell Louis.

 Move in day at Goddard Hall was going smoothly for Evan and her father, Evan Bosco Sr. After believing for months that their daughter was a son due to faulty ultrasound equipment in Cambodia, Mr. and Mrs. Bosco couldn’t decide on a name for their daughter, so they just settled on naming her what they had intended on naming their son.

 “I think that’s the last of it,” Evan Sr. says, dropping the last tote of belongs on the floor of his daughter’s new dorm room, “want me to help you unpack?”

 “Nah,” Evan replies, “I’ll probably just do the essentials tonight, get a pizza and watch some Netflix.”

 Evan Sr. had a swollen heart, watching his only daughter, his only child leave home for college. Even if she really wasn’t all that far from home. The apartment would be quieter, he’d miss their morning cups of coffee while they split the paper; crosswords and the business section for him, current affairs and comics for her. He’d miss (although he’d never admit it) when he’d have to remind her to pick up her dishes or clean up her room. He’d miss having his partner in crime with him.

 “Alright, if you need anything, just call me and I’ll be here.”

 “Yes dad,” Evan groans.

 “I’m not far. Even if you need to get away from your new roommate -”

 “I’m sure the twelve minute subway ride to get home will really be a daunting when I want to shower in private.”

 He laughs, “where is this roommate anyways?”

 “No clue,” Evan shrugs, “maybe I’ll get lucky and end up with a room to myself. Then you’ll really never see me.”

 “Hey,” Evan Sr. turns the rolling chair from the desk and sits in it, “how about once a week, no matter what, we do something? Whether it’s dinner, lunch, shopping, a movie, doesn’t matter. Deal?”

 “Dad,” she starts, she can see the corners of her father’s eyes twinkling like they do right before he cries, “I’m not moving to a different country, just a different neighborhood. You’ll be too busy living up the bachelor lifestyle in your newly empty apartment that you won’t have time to miss me.”

 Evan Sr. stands and pulls his daughter into a hug. He squeezes her tight and plants a kiss on the top of her head before letting her go and heading for the door, “okay, I’ll let you get to it.”

 “Love you, Dad.” She says.

 Her father waves and yells, “Love you too, my little snickerdoodle!” Down the crowded hallway back at her.

 Evan laughs and closes the door, turning to her empty dorm room. She sighs once and lays down on the uncomfortable twin bed and instantly regrets fighting her father to let her live on campus.

 Somewhere in the middle of the third season of Arrested Development, Evan falls asleep, curled into a ball on her unmade bed. It’s dark in the room when she wakes up a couple hours later with still no sign of her roommate. Maybe I did get lucky and end up alone. She thinks. She plugs in her microwave and whips up some cup noodles and settles back into bed. Another hour passes before there’s a the sound of keys jingling outside the dorm door. After a couple of hushed swears the door pops open and it takes a few seconds for Evan’s eyes to adjust from the brightness of her laptop screen to the darkness of the room.

 When the light flicks on she can’t seem to find the words she wants to say so instead, stares with her mouth agape at the sight of Diner boy standing in front of her. He looks at the piece of paper in his hand, “Evan?”

 “Yeah?”

 Evan scrambles to the move in slip on her bedside table with the name of her roommate listed on it, “I assumed Harry was short for Harriet.”

 Harry bursts out laughing, falling onto his bed across from Evan’s.

 Since they day they met, Harry Styles knew Evan Bosco would take him on the ride of his life.

FIRST AND FOREMOST THANK YOU FOR ALL THE LOVE ON THE PROLOGUE. Holy crap. And all the lovely messages too! I’m so excited to go on this journey with you guys and share all of the shenanigans that this gang is going to get into. 

Until next time!

#fic: oifl #chapter oneeeeee #harry styles #harry styles fic #harry styles fanfiction #1dff

[sexiestpodcastcharacter]

Sexiest Podcast Character — Unscripted Bracket — Finals

Propaganda

Glenn Close (Dungeons & Daddies):

#Propaganda for Glenn Close: one of the other PCs mentions multiple times how hot he is #Actually several characters point it out but especially Henry #Also the only person in a podcast that has to put a disclaimer about not being a BDSM podcast to have had sex during the course of the show

Young hot rocker dilf

Loyal to his dead wife <3

Does in fact smoke weed

BARD!! HES A BARD. HE WAS LEAD GUITAR IN HIS BAND (that he was kicked out of)

His band was a Christmas cover band btw.

Literally the fandom had hot Glenn summer which consisted of drawing him being incredibly hot and sexy

Anti government (ofc)

Kind of cringefail (Disney adult) (was on dilfs of disneyland)

Young and sexy not your style? Then how about HIM AFTER YEARS LOCKED IN A TIME PRISON WITH A DAMN HANNIBAL MASK ??

Lost an eye and wears a fucking eyepatch

One incredibly buff arm

Has a pet rat named after his son <3

Immeasurable amounts of trauma in this man- becomes progressively more unhinged

OH OLD HUMAN BARD ISNT CUTTING IT? FINE

HE BECOMES A FUCKING DEMON

A COOL HOT ONE-EYED DEMON WHO WANTS TO KILL HIS DAD (also sexy)

HE CANONICALLY ENDS CHRISTIAN HELL VIA CHRISTMAS

IS ALSO WAY OVERLEVELED

Becomes a demon hunter for the rest of his existence

Also nonwhite !!! We are done with cringefail whiteboys !!!!!!!!!

I can’t put into words ok just know he is the best plz love him.

Okay but Glenn made a minivan cum by talking to her so

HE HAS A BOOK THAT HE MARKS X’S AND CHECKS FOR EVERY DAY TO SEE IF THAT DAY WAS A SUCCESS OR NOT. TO SEE IF HE DID GOOD THAT DAY. ITS ALMOST ENTIRELY X’S. HE WAS CUCKED OUT OF A SON. AND A DEAD WIFE. HE DIDN’T EVEN GET TO KILL HIS DAD IN REVENGE. There’s absolutely nothing going for him except his sex appeal in his life. Nobody he loved remembers him. He lost his eye. All he has is a pet rat and friends who admit they don’t really like him that much. He was kicked out of his own band. The band was named after him. He was kicked out of the Glenn Close trio. All he could do was deez nuts the big bad and be sexy. If nothing else, then pity him. Look in his eyes. Look at his heart and soul. He did not do the BDSM episode for this I’ll tell you what. Do this for my his sake. Do it for Nick Jr, who needs the prize money to pay for his rat snacks. Do it for his son. For Morgan. Ganbatte.

Glenn is the goofiest sexiest character there is and I will die on this hill! I will ride into battle for him! what Dndads created is truly unique and Glenn is a key part of that and for that he deserves to win. I said it before and I'll say it again - GLENN SWEEEEEP

Can we talk about how he says ‘baby’ casually? Like he just calls people that?? That’s HOT. THAT IS HOT!! He’s also bilingual and knows Japanese!!!! He’s a big dumb idiot with a lot of charisma!!!!!! HE WORKED AT A BDSM PLACE FOR TWO SEPARATE ONE SHOTS. HES SO SAD BUT PLAYS IT OFF LIKE HE’S CHILL ALL THE TIME!! HE DOESN’T THINK OF HIMSELF AS SINGLE BECAUSE HE DIDN’T DIVORCE HIS DEAD WIFE!!! He’s like.. the perfect guy. We need this win.

I’d also like to add the fact I made this. Which is the first 11 episodes edited to (almost) only have Glenn in them <3 which is a level of insanity I hope to reiterate. These took hours to make. I wouldn’t do that for anyone else.

vote Glenn I am asking with the biggest saddest eyes possible 🥺🥺🥺 he is so sexy it's pathetic and also so pathetic it's sexy, no I can not possibly adequately elaborate just trust me

Mod Note: While I will still take "bad dads are sexy" propaganda and "bad dads aren't sexy" anti-propaganda, I kindly request no more discussion on whether or not he was a bad father. This is a sexypoll, not a parentingpoll. If you see a post you strongly disagree with, you can just not reblog it.

Mod Note 2: This tournament is about fictional podcast characters. Please do not vote for the real actress Glenn Close.

Gable (Campaign: Skyjacks):

7ft tall silver-haired thembo of a fallen angel. was the literal sword of god until they killed him! reasons slightly unclear but probably sure to forbidden queer love! super caring for their friends. has one friend they have known for hundreds of years who they HATE but are bound to by the red string of fate. their sword is a part of them, they can sheathe it into a tattoo. they start out indistinct at the edges but as they have continued on through the campaign they have become more and more distinct. they became a flaming engine of justice to kill their friends shitheaded older brother who was following him. they have learned enough necromancy to allow other fallen angels to die, even though they typically cannot. they fly giant birds in to battle.

7ft tall beefcake wielding a sword as tall as they are. vengeful sweetheart

Imagine now: a fallen angel with beautiful gray hair and very big muscles. Now imagine them with a 9 ft sword. Now imagine them as a helmsperson of a pirate ship in a flowy deep-v pirate shirt. Now imagine they're dumb as a fucking rock. And finally, imagine that they killed god. Here, you have made Gable Skyjacks: sexiest podcast character of all time.

7ft tall nonbinary/genderfluid thembo fallen angel sky pirate who wields a buster sword. silvergrey hair with black/gold streaks as they regain feathers/memories of before their fall. back is covered in tattoos that hide the scars of their shredded off wings. killed God. toxic exes with lucifer. they are the keeper of several giant war birds who occasionally crave human flesh. they enjoy getting rowdy/smoking rope with their boys. they collect rocks that they think are neat. When anyone admits they are attracted to them, Gable trips over their words and absolutely swaglessly ends up sounding stupider and sexier by the end of the conversation; the will they/won't they and teasing they dish out to these (un?)lucky few is palpable. Sometimes the buster sword is on fire. They are immortal, they are cringe, they are trying to atone because they believe they are the reason the world is ruined.

Okay so aside from all of the above (giant with a matching giant flaming sword, killed god, extreme dumbass), here's some more propaganda for Gable the Godkiller.

They've escaped death multiple times with their partner in... crime? Like literally they were about to be executed in the most brutal way possible and just. Escaped and killed all their captors in the snowy wastelands.

They are the helmsperson of the Uhuru and take this job very seriously and definitely haven't left it to Bowser (you know, like from Mario) multiple times. Can steer that flying ship in horrible weather and still make it to port safely.

Healed an entire fucking hospital by cutting their hair for someone they had the hots for who was also in the hospital. Imagine being on that level of myth making in some random port city because of a hair cut.

Giant bird caretaker and also took the giant birds out on their friend's bachelor party (this was like. his Xth polyamorous marriage at this point btw) and had a fucking blast getting high on some rope and fucking around. They've also flown these birds into combat and looked cool as hell doing it (see: killing their friend's shithead of an older brother in a joust).

Had a relationship with Lucifer the Morning Star before they fell as an angel and killed God. Literally the reason the stars fell was their love for each other. The world would not look the same without Gable and they are, at the very least indirectly responsible for the creation of the Church of the Slain God and everything it represents (fantasy Catholicism).

And also yeah they are regularly tripping over themself and saying very silly things. 10/10 character we love Liz Anderson and Gable in this house

I am seeing people say that this Nicky fellow is basically trans! That's very cool! Gable is actually trans. Pronouns they/them/any presentation whatever they feel like.

Gable held a bachelor party for a BFF where the attendees hunted from their sky birds, wore dresses, and still managed to keep their eyeliner on point!

Gable killed God because he wouldn't let them be queer. They should rightfully crush anyone in their path.

We are finally going up against a character I know. I can confidently say all sexy moments with Gable are much sexier than TAZ's largely off-screen romances. Mod Note: This was written during the poll versus Killian Fangbattle.

But seriously. Listen to Gable's most recent introduction. Unparalleled sexy thembo introduction! Context: The Captain's Council is at a magical tattoo/piercing parlor (which has a lengthy form and disclosure process), trying to stay below the radar, and the Captain and Jonnit are pretending to be father/son to keep up the ruse. And to let Jonnit get a tattoo, since he's technically sort of underage. Bonus: Gable's decision at the tattoo/piercing parlor and noping out of Orimar and Jonnit's acting. (You should check out the full episode! Episode 197 starts a new arc and a good point to step into the series!)

Nicky Close (Dungeons & Daddies):

One armed half-demon man with a sword (also a Dedicated, Involved, Loving Father). (Specifically campaign 2, where he is an adult)

Transmasc bisexual (or at least so widely accepted as such it's basically canon) dilf half-demon let's start with the basics

And by half-demon I mean the literal prince of Hell

But also simultaneously is Saint Nicolas get you a man who can do both specifically this man

Missing an arm cause his ex-friends tragically betrayed him and shot it off but he doesn't need two arms to show you a good time wink wink ;)

The betrayal in question forced him to be seperated from his also hot milf voice actress wife and their son which is sad but in like a way that makes him sexier

Uses his one hand to wield a flaming katana that he used to rescue his son from the FBI

Protects his family with his life very literally which is hot as hell

Big himbo energy couldn't come up with a good plan if he used 100% of his brain

When he does fail at things it's pretty cute honestly

Definitely played a variety of musical instruments before the whole arm thing happened! Maybe he still does idk he's a sexy mystery

2 in 1 deal! This man was born from the merging of two timelines! Kinda sick!!! Also two dads = twice the daddy issues

You'd think the whole being forcibly split from his family thing would mean he isn't very close with his son but nope! His son adores him! They get along great!!!

His mom is simultaneously alive and dead

His mom bagged fucking two different dudes (one of whom FOUND HER DEAD in a different timeline, both of which are demons)

HIS MOMS NAME IS MORGAN FREEMAN, HIS DAD’S NAME IS GLENN CLOSE, AND HIS OTHER DAD’S NAME IS JODIE FOSTER, AND HIS GREAT SOMETHING GRANDFATHER’S NAME IS MERYL STREEP

HIS SONS NAME IS TAYLOR SWIFT

Lifelong pot smoker 👍 (plus drug flower user!!)

CANONICALLY BOTH A POLO WEARER (and yes, has all the stereotypes of that attached with it — a nerd, which is hot) AND A LEATHER JACKET WEARER (which also has all the stereotypes attached with it — a rebel dude person, which is also hot) [<- all widely accepted as canon by the fandom even as he’s older]

A part of the SECOND BIGGEST ship of season two, (Nark) despite the two characters only having one-two canon interactions (one of which JUST happened last episode)

Man’s a himbo what’s hotter than that

So many fucking names. You try to tag him in anything and he takes up half the space. That’s probably hot. For someone out there

This was already mentioned but so very very trans. Like. It’s basically canon

Rock and roll(er)

Joined a group of thieves called the watermice when he was like 13

for a few minutes had a guitar called the Battle Axe of Hatred

definitely had an frienimies with benefits relationship with his childhood friend Lark (sorry ppl that don’t ship nark lol) (it’s canon after ep 44 hah)

Nicky also acts like his sons Pokémon! Taylor tells his dad to do things, and Nicky does it without thinking about anything else he could do!

I feel like the audio of the entire Nick-breaking-into-the-FBI scene should be propaganda, but I'm copying select bits from the transcript:

Anthony: Yeah, it kind of echoes up through the vent, like the beginning of Metal Gear Solid. You hear a voice that strikes you as ever so slightly familiar, Taylor. Saying—  ??: [a deep voice] [echoing in the vent] Where is he?  Anthony: You hear—  Will: Uh-oh, he’s hot.  Anthony: —a bunch of shouting voices.  [giggles]  Beth: Uh-oh! Anthony: You hear a bunch of shouting voices and people shouting for him to get down on the ground to turn off his flame. To fucking get his hands behind his back. You hear this rhythmic stepping forward— because his footsteps don't sound like anybody else's because it's almost like… y’know when you toss a little bit of water onto a really hot pan and it just sizzles like that? It's like every footstep he's taking, you can hear that— Freddie: Cool  Anthony: — and you can feel some of that heat coming up in this vent, even though you can't see him at this point. And he goes—  ??: [echoing] Where. Is. My. Boy? Anthony: You hear the FBI agent—the FBI in quotation marks agent—in the back going like—  Agent: [echoing] He's safe for now. If you want to go ahead and make sure that he stays that way, you feel free to go ahead and step inside the suite that we've prepared for you, my boy. Anthony: And you hear the hot guy voice saying—  [chuckles]  The Hot Guy: [echoing] I don't think that's going to happen.

...

[a powerful rush of air builds] Anthony: You hear—  [gunfire, and the air rush culminates in a burst of flame; from underneath the fire, metal music starts playing] Anthony: —plumes of flame exploding.  [a person’s pained shout, gunfire and bursts of flame continue]  Anthony: You can feel the heat radiating through this metal vent and it's actually beginning to hurt and burn your hands.

...

Anthony: And you hear blood—  [sizzling]  Anthony: —hitting the fucking ground and you hear sizzling and things boiling and burning. Taylor: That could just be coffee! That could just be coffee. Link, let's go. Anthony: And you are getting closer and closer to the elevator. And you hear that same hot voice say—  The Hot Guy: [echoing] Where the hell is Taylor?

Gable and Nicky Together:

We are on a joint ticket now! This is a truly unbeatable combo. Not even god can nerf it because Gable killed him. Vote for us. Nicky Close will watch your stuff and play with your cats while Gable gives you the night of your life.

Gable and Nicky can literally be yuor angle or ur bevil.

Art of Gable and Nicky from @slightlyhopefulromantic.

#Round 6 #Glenn Close #Glenn Close DnDads #Gable #Gable Skyjacks #Nicky Close #Campaign #Campaign Podcast #Campaign: Skyjacks #Skyjacks #Dungeons & Daddies #Dungeons and Daddies