Quoted By:
>There’s a sketch of Lucinda. It IS kinda spicy.
Oh me oh my; the tingling on your cheeks would melt a quintillion galaxies if Lucinda’s leg was any higher in this sketch. It is as certain as your fairness that the real deal would like to have a look at this- it certainly conveys what Lifa thinks of her body. While they are busy, you let it fall like a dead leaf in autumn, quite sure that they won’t even bother to look up. It gets mixed up with all the others you rained on them last time.
ರೃ Lucinda: What is this?
Lifa: Oh, what did you find?
ರೃ Lucinda: Me.
Lifa: Hmm, I kinda don’t know how to parse that.
ರೃ Lucinda: Try literally.
Lifa becomes Deatha in what to you, a being of the eons, is a year. Meaning instantly. Yet a healthy red is quick to invade her cheeks as Lucinda’s bitch slap, which would make pimps everywhere agree with each other, gives the lich some life back.
Lifa: …aaaaaaaaAAAAAAUUUCHH…
ರೃ Lucinda: Tell me what you were planning for this because it will not happen.
Lifa’s sudden burning rage is quick to simmer down as Lucinda elegantly turns the page around. As tears stream over her red cheeks again, Lifa can’t do much but shrug in anger.
Lifa: Nothing. I see pretty, I draw. What would I do, publish a manga of you getting tit-fucked by an ugly bastard? As if all the people who hate you wouldn’t shove it right up your nose the minute it hits the panda.
ರೃ Lucinda: Panda.
Lifa: …there’s this page with a panda… it has porn…
Lifa sobs, then sobs again. Her cheeks are as wet as her green eyes.
