designedtoparty | Entries tagged with character: claire bennet

[You could probably guess Nathan would post for this. You can probably also guess what he's been doing... if you can't, the soiled boxers he's wiping his hands on should be a good clue. Luckily, he's dressed. Even if he hasn't bothered doing his fly back up yet.]

I'm starting to think the deities are lightening up a bit. These curses just get better and better. [Never mind that the kissing curse turned out to be terrible. That's irrelevant by now.]

Hey, did anyone see the one with that double jointed chick? I've been trying to find a girl who can do that with her legs for years.

[And because I couldn't let this go by without some form of trauma... little does Nathan know his post is spamming people with girl-on-girl old lady porn. Just what everyone wanted to see. Some jokes never stop being old to me. :(b]

[Nathan is hanging out on a bench near the fountain, seeming more interested in his phone than the camera.]

You know, Johnny. I was going to text you, but I keep getting this overwhelming urge to tell you to try slipping me an E before you send me to my fiery grave. Since you're probably still on a trial period thanks to you being a total psychopath, I thought it'd be best to say where all your police friends could hear me pointing out that you're not my current drug dealer, even if I do have my suspicions about what you do on the side.

That, and I couldn't be bothered to think up a new alias for you. But it's mostly the dealer thing.

[Here is Nathan, sporting a very expensive looking suit (stolen by someone who wasn't him, thank you very much) and looking extremely worked up about something.]

Hey! Hey, cop fellers. Since you're always so keen to get on my back over nothing, I thought you might like to deal with some real crime for a change. I know you were too wrapped up with other, no doubt more important stuff to bother the last time I got murdered, but maybe this time you could try doing your jobs for a change.

So I got stabbed, right? I don't know what I got stabbed with, mind. It might have been sword, or something. I'm kind of fuzzy here, so it's hard to say for sure.

Anyway, that bit's all fine. Not that I want people to kill me, but stabbing's fairly tame. Only this guy must've been completely insane. I woke up, and my clothes were just gone. He'd put me in this thing instead. [He tugs at the lapels of his suit jacket here, then continues with his rant.] And he had the indecency to dump a load of newspaper over my head and leaving me lying around outside.

I don't want to start throwing around accusations, or anything, but I reckon this guy must've violated me while I was out. He's probably out there right now, rubbing his dick all over my t-shirt and getting off on his memories of skull fucking me.

He left chewing gum in my pockets, for God's sake. If that isn't a sign of guilt, I don't know what is.

[The shot opens on a close up of the back of Nathan's Community Payback jumpsuit, which, once the camera has zoomed out, can be seen to be hung on the back of his door. It's about the only thing in his room that seems to be in place when the camera pans around the room. There's a pile of dirty washing. A pile of shoes. Some stray feathers. His cigarettes, lighter, iPod, mobile phone and an empty Coke can are cluttered on his bedside cabinet. Finally, the camera comes to focus on Nathan, curled up under his blankets and a layer of letters. He's fast asleep. If you didn't know him, you might almost say he looks innocent.

And then the voice of the narrator.]

Today we join Nathan, a young offender rumoured to have been given his ASBO after eating some pick'n'mix. Currently trapped in a universe without Wertham, he's taking what he sees as a well earned break from his Community Service.

( A Day in the Life of Nathan Young )

[ooc: Cut, because wow, that got long. This is what I get for playing someone who'll play along. Italics is the narrator. Orange is clone Nathan. Pink is NPC girl.

ETA- And I meant to say. Post forward-dated to midnight.]

[Nathan is curled up in bed, so his voice is slightly muffled by his covers.]

Okay, so is anyone else getting any more of those pains that were going on before we managed to get rid of those harpies? Or am I the lucky winner here? [He says 'we'. In reality he didn't do anything to help.]

Fuck. I think this actually feels worse than getting impaled to begin with.

[A pause and some creaking as Nathan shifts on his mattress.]

I think there's still bird shit in my bed. Those bastards better not have given me bird flu, or something.

[Nathan is standing with his arms outstretched, his right arm with five ravens perched on it, and four crows on his left. His left shoulder is occupied by a blue and gold macaw. Despite being covered in a fair amount of bird poo (his navy hoodie may not have been his best choice today), he looks pretty pleased.]

Hey, Captain Birdseye. Say cunt.

[The macaw, Captain Birdseye, just whistles at him, much to Nathan's disappointment.]

No, cunt. C'mon, man. Say it with me. Cunt!

[This time he gets a screech and a click. Which still doesn't impress him. He frowns, starting to get a bit irritated.]

Cunt.

[Click. Nathan glares at him, sulkily.] Fine. Don't say it. [Side eye, then he mutters under his breath.] Twat.

[Screeeeeeeeeeeech.] Wanker. [Click, click, click. And then he's cleaning his feathers.]

What the fuck?! Where'd you get wanker from? I gave up on teaching you that one ages ago.

[Birdseye ignores him in favour of cleaning. Nathan pouts, arms drooping a little.] How long is this going to last for? My arms hurt.

[If you want action, Nathan is around the city, charging at random people with his bird flock.]

[Grubby and cobwebby, Nathan is slouched on his bed, smoking a joint. He's definitely not feeling his usual self, looking a bit more withdrawn than he would normally.]

So, I think I died last night. Either that, or someone slipped me some really bad acid. [He stops and groans there, squeezing his eyes shut and dragging a hand down his face.] I don't know. I'm kind of fuzzy on the details.

On the plus side, immortal. So, I don't have to worry about that zombie shit the rest of you lot have going. Down side... actually, I don't think there is a down side to dying, in this case. I mean, it's that or I got raped by some big, beefy bloke while having the worst trip of my life. [Pauses, looking mildly disgusted as he pictures that.] Yeah... let's not go there.

[He waves a dismissive hand at the camera.]

Anyway, I have this letter... bill... thing. Just so you know, I didn't buy anything, so you can forget about me paying it. Thanks.

[He takes one last, long drag off the joint, then pushes himself forward to stub the end out and turn off the camera.]

[The feed switches to audio after that, Nathan's sarcastic tone cutting in almost immediately.]

Well, that was touching. Almost like having the good old days back, when Barry would creep around after me filming everything. I mean, this obviously looks like a much steadier hand, but that whole stalker-vibe's still there.

Really, though. Nostalgia makes you feel a whole lot fuzzier when you don't come from a total shit heap. Sorry, City, but try again. 5/10.

[Nathan is leaned up a wall outside a bar, smoking and looking rather irritated. No, he is not wearing green. Which may explain the irritation.]

Okay, so some of you aren't from around here. And by 'here', I do mean worlds where you may find Ireland. I get that! I do. So, for the record? The phrase is 'kiss me, I'm Irish'. So, stop fucking pinching me. All right?

And if you are going to pinch me, at least have the decency to go for the arse.

[Nathan pauses to sniff and pout.]

Today of all days, I should be swimming in Guinness and blow jobs. Not dealing with this!

Jesus...

[Nathan, who's made sure the camera is far enough back to show off his entire body, is kitted out in a denim mini skirt and a skimpy spaghetti top. It also looks as though there may be a badly stuffed bra underneath that. He's barefooted at the moment, but there's a stray strappy sandle next to one of his feet.

Besides him is a fox, wearing a pink, lacy bra.]

City! As a good friend of mine once told me, "every man dies, but not every man really lives". Which is why, now my soul has presented herself to me, I have decided to embrace the truth and live my life as a woman. I can't lie to myself any longer. Not when the truth's right there in front of me.

Now, boys... I know it's tempting, but just so you know, I am definitely a lesbian. So, no touching.

And thank you, inner fox lady, for revealing this to me.

[Bending down, Nathan gives the fox a sloppy kiss on the nose. She looks smug, giving his cheek an equally sloppy lick.]

Now all you need is a new name. Maybe one of them can think one up?

Nah. Fuck 'em. I can think of my own name. Anyway, you're forgetting surgery.

Naming seems easier. And less painful.

Hey, you know what they say. You can't have pussy without having some pain.

[With a grin, Nathan disconnects the feed.]

[ooc; Nathan will be affected by Daemon Day for the entire weekend. Orange text is his daemon, regular text is Nathan. And, no. He didn't pay for those clothes. So if police types want to have had reports of Nathan not-so-subtly hanging around with a fox making off with women's clothing, feel free. \o>]

[Hello, City. Today you are being treated to a lovely view of a scrawny, still kind of malnourished Nathan in nothing but his briefs. Should you be pleased? Well, he certainly seems to think so.]

Deities! Or anyone else who knows their way around a washing machine. I have an irresistible offer for you to take me up on.

Since my flatmate refuses to do my laundry for me, I've been left with no choice but to resort to other means.

What are these other means, you might ask. To which I respond, this. [Nathan trails his hands sloooowwwwwwwly down his torso, hands coming to a rest just above his crotch.]

That's right. In exchange for washing my clothes, I offer you my body, to do with as you wish. This will be an ongoing agreement, naturally. Unless your services aren't up to my standards, in which case I reserve the right to put a stop to any agreement we might have.

[The video opens with a bewildered looking youth in a grubby, orange jumpsuit holding the camera at arms length. When he speaks, the Irish accent quickly becomes apparent.]

Okay, first off I'd like to thank whoever conveniently decided to leave me with some form of communication, even if it is utterly useless for getting in touch with people I actually care about.

Second? A big fuck you to whoever's fault it is that I appear to be stuck here. I mean, come on! What the fuck!? Clearly I'm not dead, because hello? Immortal. So, what could possibly be going on here?

[At that he drops the confused look, rolling his eyes and looking annoyed instead.]

Oh, wait. Of course! It's something to do with the storm. Which is just a shocker, I know. It's not like that happens every week, or anything.

[A beat. Just waiting for that sarcasm to sink in, then...]

Ohhhhhh, no, sorry. It does. So, I know exactly what's going on here. It's someone's fucked up idea of a super power. Which means you're either a beautiful, barely legal girl, planning on doing something horrible to me, or...

[Nathan gasps, eyes widening with 'realisation'.]

You!

You're the probation worker. You sick bastard! I thought I could trust you. For once, I thought we had a probation worker we could trust. To guide us, to reform us, to refrain from trying to brutally murder us...

Instead you're pulling me into your sick, perverted fantasies, so you can have your filthy way with me.

[Throwing a dramatic arm over his face, Nathan lets out a loud, false sob.]

Be gentle with me. No one's ever taken me that way before.

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Nathan Young

January 2020

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Me? I was done for eating some pick'n'mix.

Entries tagged with character: claire bennet

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