The fic was a little choppy in places (the author admitted when they posted unbeta'd chapters), and there were a handful of punctuation errors. But I am cheerfully willing to ignore such things when there's purple prose and Hannibal as a vampire. My id. Right here.

Latest abomination in the portmanteau wars (me vs. the portmaneaux):

Gotham, Edward Nygma and Oswald Cobblepot.

Nygmobblepot.

Guys. Sometimes it just doesn't work. Let it go.

Oh my god! Still better than the insane ship names of Roswell, though.

I really hate most of them.

Why is s / so hard?

I am still searching for a new show new pairing that will grab me.

Is that Arrow and Pitch X-over?

A Pitch Veronica Mars crossover exists, just started, not complete, author I usually enjoy.

Things that make you feel like a Fandom Old:

The Least of All Possible Mistakes came out 5 years ago. Reichencrack would be starting Kindergarten in the fall.

The Least of All Possible Mistakes is easily my favorite het fic ever. Lestrade is wonderful, and I want to have a coffee with her and discuss dog training.

Why is there a Rick/Negan college AU on AO3?

I mean, I know why, but WHY.

I got some kudos on some Mary Tyler Moore drabbles I wrote forever ago, so I wondered if you guys had seen them. [link]

I never met Bourdain, but I wrote "No Reservations" fanfiction once... a crossover with his show and True Blood.I remember that it made NR fans laugh, even if they were like "Fanfic...yuck!" In this part, Tony meets Lafayette.

"How come you eat?" It was simple and then, something went wrong with my entree. I don't remember what now, but it was kind of...obvious. Something if I had done it, I'd have to know, because, like kleptomania, it was a cry for help, and I wanted to get caught.So, you might even say my pointing it out verged on a humanitarian mission or something. You might say that. Lafayette certainly would not, as in my passion on the subject, I *might* have used the expression "griddle jockey" to convey the subject's lack of culinary testicles.If I had known just who I'd be speaking to, it might have gone a little differently.

"You wanted to see me?"

"Yes, I suppose so. Although I'm kind of shocked you're copping to creating this."

He looked at me, growing more fabulous by the minute, and said "I guess it's been a while since you've been shocked regularly."

I wanted to wait a bit before going into all *that*, so I said. "I'm here from New York. And don't distract me...this is cold in the middle."

"Dag, keep your shirt on...I didn't spit on the flag. And can I ask you a question?" "Yeah, sure, I'm an open book." "Why do you eat?"

"Well, you know, we all eat to live, but to my view, it goes deeper than that...the pleasure principle and there are always social and cultural forces at play..."

He must have sensed that I could go on a long time, for I do get paid well to answer these questions on a pretty frequent basis. The Rachel Ray mockery I look at as a lagniappe,as they say around here, because I'm just generous like that. To my surprise, he looked at me as if I were a bit slow and not terribly attractive. I may be flattering myself, but I hadn't seen that face in a few countries.

"No, I mean, are you *people*?"

"I'm sorry?" Rarely had I had my humanity questioned so completely by a virtual stranger. I didn't care for it

"Well, you drank True Bloods, you wear black, and you're telling everyone their business. I kinda figured...what-do-you-call-it, gastronomy, was kind of a moot point."

"Heaven forbid...I'm guessing you're not a cable subscriber." "Oh, I like it all right. Missing Omar, though. I kind of think we'd have understood each other."

Despite this crushing blow to my celebrity ego, we settled into a moment of companionable Wire geek silence. "I'm sorry I went off on you. I suppose they're right on The Wire...conscience does cost." (Ok, I'm not *completely* opposed to delivering the quote as written, but, as you may have guessed, I hold myself to a certain standard, and, flawed as that standard may be, anything that keeps me from the baseball-cap-on-backward set is well within its borders. However, I have a tendency(or five) not to know when to quit, so I said this, too. "We both know this plate is shit. Hell, anyone with a pulse knows it. Anyone with taste buds...shall I go on?"

"What does that have to do with you, Mr New York vampire? You can live with us, you can have all the rights y'all want, but you can't tell me what to do in my own goddamn kitchen. I told Eric and now I'm telling you."

"I only said that because somehow I know you can do better. And, okay, you make good television. I assure you, I'm as human as a man can be after a few years on the Food Network. Look, Ma, no fangs."

(I have to tell you, part of me was a little sad that I couldn't reveal some big pointy ones at this point in the conversation.How cool would that be?) No more morning shoots, no more mall book signings in Des Moines, and I could finally get my books up front and cover up the Twilight shit.Of course, I'd have to tell the Travel Channel things that they had previously only suspected: that I was actually a soul-sucking monster feeding off the blood of the unsuspecting, but, you know, every long professional association faces bumps like that. It's all in the (continued...)