Oookie dokie, now that you senpais are starting to notice me, I think it's about time I finally get my intro together~
I'm The Scarred Prince, but you can call me Espie. This is pretty much an all around vent blog, so I come here when I'm sad, I come here when I'm horny, and I come here when I'm feeling all around a little dangerous to myself or society ("metaphorically"). In other words: DON'T expect to maintain a comfortable boner here. I aim to make you question wtf is wrong with the Internet.
Pronouns:
<3 He/They
General TW ahead of time for SH, EDs, and the kinks below:
Been wanting to make smth like this since going down some upsetting 🐰 holes, and I will be using it on all of my posts from now on...
This page is run by an ADULT with an active and dark imagination. Nothing more. If that "ruins" anything for you, I need you to leave NOW! Idc if you think it, but there are times when you really SHOULDN'T be it. Sorry, not sorry. FICTION is fun! We need to keep abusers from ruining our fun, feel free to use this banner if you agree! 🌈🍖
Fell out of my bed like a dumb lil bunny a few days ago + got some gnarly bruises on my knees. I just had to get a pic to edit before they faded completely 💙🤭💜
It DOES still count, TRUE morning doesn't start until 5am!! 😤 Now, lookie! I have more on my Fansly, including the actual edits used for the cards and a special card that couldn't be included here 🤭👯♂️💋
Oh, did I forget to tell y'all I have a F@nsly now??
Sorry, didn't mean to zone out while you were talking. It's just that I've been daydreaming icky things ever since you "accidentally" grazed by me earlier, I'll be a good boy and listen now.💗💞
Warnings: Kidnapping, Abuse, Manipulation, Ableism, Implied Transphobia, General Malvolence
Pairing(s): Lorne Malvo x transmasc!reader
This is a true story. The events depicted in this story took place in Colorado in 2004. At the request of the survivors, the names have been changed. Out of respect for the dead, the rest has been told exactly as it occurred.
The next morning starts early. I'm certain neither me nor Abe slept for more than a few hours, but he drags me up from my spot on the floor and sits me in a chair he has pulled out. He throws a glass of ice water in my face to wake me up, and the draft in this room is already hardly bearable. I cough the water out of my throat and pant for breath, almost falling forward out of the chair. Abe shoves me back, the hard wood digging into my shoulder blades.
“I want to make it clear to you: I'm not letting you off easy. This isn't some smut novel where the good girl just gets to run off and fuck around with the bad boy,” he says to me, holding my head up to meet his gaze. I wince again at the word ‘girl’, and he seems to take notice as he pauses, cocks his head, and squints at me. “What was that?”
“W-what?”
Abe elaborates, “Every time I've called you a girl, you've pulled that long face on me. What's the problem?”
I just shake my head, “I-it's bad timing. The zip-ties are just really cutting into my wrist.”
He takes out a curved knife, and I flinch thinking that he is going to use it on me only for him to reach around to slice the plastic band around my wrist. My arms part, the tension in my arm muscles releasing. I wait for Abe's next move.
“How’s that, girl? Feel any better, hm, girl?” He asks as though he's speaking to an animal. “Come on: Speak up, girl.”
“Stop!” I snap, my fists clenched. “Even if I was a girl, I'm not a fucking dog!”
An eerie glint came to Abe's eye. “So, you admit you're not a woman, then.”
I didn't respond too soon, deeply afraid of what would come next if I did. Still, after a moment of silence and overthinking, I realize there is no good way that this could end. Might as well try to act strong. “W-what is this? You out me and make some screwed up example out of me? Try to fix me?”
“Oh, hell no,” Abe scoffs, then cocks his head. “Hmm, maybe. But, I'm not going to try to convert you into some little housewife. That's not going to happen. You think you're a boy?”
Another long pause. “Yes, I do.”
“No,” Abe argues, “you're a man, I can see it. All this frilly shit is just compensation for what you think you don't have.”
I shake my head. “I-I don't know what you're talking about, I'm n-not-”
“What did I tell you about the stutter?”
Taking a deep breath, I smooth out my words. “I… I'm not even out anywhere. I'm barely even a boy.”
Abe scoffs. “If you stand for nothing, you'll fall for anything. Ever heard that? Get up.”
I don't know why, it's in no way a well thought out idea, but people don't tend to think their best in these situations. So, I ask, “where are we going?”
Abe doesn't respond. Instead, he raises his foot and presses it against the edge of the chair and pushes, sending me humiliatingly onto the floor and scrambling to my feet. He warns me that he won't be asking again as he walks out the door. I don't necessarily know what that means, but there's something about this man's aura that sends me chasing after him. A disturbing realization dawns on me, however, as I look at my kidnapper: I'm not only chasing him out of fear. I'm ready to start my life, to actually experience something real.
“Get that starry eyed look off your face,” he grumbles, starting the car.
I shake my head, jarred by my own behavior. The handle doesn't click when I try to pull to open the door, and Abe shakes his head at my efforts to escape.
“At least make up your mind on what kind of crazy you're going to be if you're going to try to play the psycho.”
Slinking back I swallow hard, my mind swimming with schools of thoughts and emotions; fear, regret, anticipation. All of the above. Maybe that is the true nature of the “psycho”, not to know what kind of crazy to be, because one can't simply be crazy. It's not an aspiration or goal, it is a destiny. Looks like it might even be mine.
Abe asks a question, bringing my internal rant to an end. I hum, not having heard him initially.
“I asked if you're here alone. Am I going to have to worry about anyone coming looking for you?”
I shrug. “Not really,” I answer with a sigh. “I was here to visit a friend, but I got a hotel and I was supposed to be leaving in the morning anyway. Plus, I-I mean- sorry-”
“Move past it.”
“Plus,” I say carefully, starting from the beginning, “I’m kind of a flake. Even my actual family wouldn't be surprised if I just kind of ran off one day.”
He smirks at this, as though he's won a great prize. “Well, isn't that convenient,” he sneers.
For the first time, he leans over and touches me more than what's required to tie or shove me where he wants me, brushing some hair from my face. He shakes his head, returning his eyes to the road.
“Do you want this?” He asks plainly.
“Excuse me?”
“Do you want this?” He repeats, more insistent this time. “I'm just saying, you don't seem to be putting up much of a fight, so I'm just wondering: If I would have given you an out back on that cliff, would you have even taken it?”
I chew on my lower lip, studying the trees and snow outside the passenger side window. “Probably,” I respond, afraid to elaborate on the fact that it would have been pure cowardice driving me away, not any true resistance or lack of intrigue. “I guess we'll just have to see where this goes.”
“No,” Abe tells me in full certainty. “That would tell us where you end up, you still would have taken the easy way where you started. I mean, that's all it is, isn't it?”
Damn it. “Yeah,” I hiss through gritted teeth. “I just don't like fighting just to live 24 fucking 7, and I like to minimize the fight as much as possible.”
I roll my eyes and curl my lip in doubt. “It doesn't have to be. I know, the survival instinct and everything, but I'm surviving either way. That's the root of it for me.”
I want you on your hands and knees. Crawling as I mutilate your flesh with harsh slaps of leather. Choking out moans laced with pain and lust. Allowing Sir to break your mind. Kicking random body parts to humiliate you even further. Yelling obscenities in order to throw you over the edge. Dehumanizing you to fracture the soul.
