This is for the Vriska admin on my page
..I took excerpts from a page of Homestuck, the parts in the italics and quotes, I do not claim this as my own, nor do I own any part of Homestuck. Homestuck and MSPaintAdventures belong to Andrew Hussie
Vriska has always loved roleplay, having been part of a highly respected and feared Flarp team, as well as taken part in it's tamer side. Though regular roleplay didn't hold quite the same level of thrill or satisfaction. That was of course until an old kismit had introduced her to the kinker side of her favorite hobby.
But it had been sweeps since she'd had a kismesis or matesprit willing to indulge her.
Vriska sighed. In all honesty a few might have, had she ever broached the subject.
The cerulean blood let out another sigh, returning her gaze to the tattered, yellowed pages of the book in her hand.
Ever since she'd found the chest filled with the worn leather-bond journals, which once belonged to Marquise Spinneret Mindfang, she'd taken to the pages whenever she questioned a choice.
Reading the tales of the pirate's life as she'd seen them, made Vriska feel like she'd known her ancestor personally. Sometimes their lives paralleled and she found herself looking at the words scrawled across the weathered pages, imagining she had been the one to ink them.
Growing bored with the current entry, she turned through the pages, coming to a stop when she saw the date she'd been looking for.
"~ On the 14th 8ilunar perigee of the 2nd dim season's equinox ~"
"The Orphaner poses a caliginous riddle like no other I've met. I am presuming him 8othered 8y jealousy, and it would 8e sickening if it were not so marvelously amusing..."
The Scorpio smirked before going back to scanning further down the page.
"...And so not knowing, I take her will, 8ut leave enough of it to enjoy her response..."
Breath hitches despite the page's contents being known by heart.
"...Her hands are in my service 8ut they still shake. They unfasten the first 8utton at my jacket's waist, clumsily. I have masked the line 8etween my puppeteering and her volition exquisitely, and her uncertainty over her own control fuels her fear. She unfastens the second 8utton..."
A shiver runs down her spine.
"I look again at the face of my slave, imagining for a moment her mind is not an unguarded port to her every dread. I imagine I cannot feel her conviction that it's not merely a matter of whether she will 8e put to the irons, 8ut how hot they will 8e if she fails to please..."
A message chime from Trollian breaks the troll's concentration, but she doesn't look to see who had messaged her, going back to reading instead.
"...Poor thing. Her horns make attractive shapes and pair themselves pleasantly amidst her violent snarls of hair. Her fingers, which I have lost track of, to my surprise have come 8etween the petticoat and my skin. The heat of her touch tells me the likely range for the color of her 8lood. I wouldn't have guessed it to look at her, not with her sign stripped..."
Another chime sounded, followed by two more a moment later.
"...I pause to consider. What will her fear 8ecome if I choose to show her mercy later? And even, in days, kindness? Will this 8e the red dalliance that 8ecomes fully flushed? Love demands my cunning just as my raids. If it is to 8e, she will never understand how thoroughly she was manipul8ted, her 8ody, her mind, her devotion..."
That last line repeated itself in Vriska's thinkpan, and she shut the journal, tossing it back on her desk with the others before finally paying attention to the flashing Trollian window.
There is more to come, don't worry