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I demand more dark-eyed Kilngons (I swear they all seem to have blue eyes, is it just me???).
Ithke, the professional smut writer- her family doesn’t like it because that sorta writing is whimpy, she don’t give a damn. She doesn't generally write Klingon/Klingon, she likes to write about aliens a lot too.
Her family also wants to know when she’ll get married and her reply is “Neverrrr >8v”
She writes under a psuedonym because the last thing she needs is some asshole biting her face just because she wrote a story.
if you need help making it through the dayremember:
The Coffee GodThe Coffee God behind the counter shuffles foot to foot, a dance of steam and espresso. Black painted fingernails, inch gauged ears and a gray striped sweatshirt, hood crooked on his back. There's a cigarette tucked behind one ear; it bobs and twitches with each step.
“Non-fat caramel latte,” he calls, just as he always does, part of a spell, part of a mantra, toneless (just a tuck at the end). I reach. He looks up.
The espresso maker hisses.
There's something like a grin, something like a spark, something like a shared secret linked eye to eye. When he passes over the drink (rough cardboard sleeve hot to the touch), he lingers. Our fingers brush, a shiver, a jolt, a ten-watt shock.
The Coffee God tilts his chin, shouts, “Hey, mind if I take my break now?”
and ducks around the counter without waiting for a reply.
He slips his cigarette between his lips without taking his eyes from mine. I follow him out the door.
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