The 35th Precinct

One thousand and ninety-three words today. This is turning into a ridiculous behemoth of a chapter, thirteen thousand words and counting. I know Southern women have a penchant for gossip and tale-spinning, but damn. Hopefully, Mithrandir will prove more concise. Over in Rammsteinland, Richard is desperate to woo his bookworm with roast duck and then have his glorious, unhurried way with her. Meanwhile, aboard the Enterprise, Bones is entertaining the idea of writing a treatise on the three hundred-year-old disabled woman they fished out of deep space. And really, Haldir would like his wife back, please.

Random thought: Nuada from Hellboy II is stupidly sexy despite his extensive scarification and black lips. He is, in fact, fanning the flames of my ever-deepening elf fetish. Damn. Fortunately for my already-overburdened project list, the fires of lust have not kindled the kindred fires of creativity.

Still:



He does...things for me.