designedtoparty: (check it out)
[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.
designedtoparty: (freaking ouuuuuuut)
[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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designedtoparty: (Default)
Nathan Young

January 2020

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