I don't normally do this this early, but it's in danger of being canceled and WE CANNOT LET THIS HAPPEN, PEOPLE. I made a Twitter account to stop that from happening. I have written physical letters and joined BS NBC "panels", all right? I feel like I'm possessed. It's weird and uncomfortable and I am legit not letting myself think about there being no season 2 because sometimes fandom should get nice things, all right?

( Nothing Here is Vegetarian: A Hannibal mid-season-1 Pimp Post )

If anyone wants to add recs or awesome things in the comments, feel free! I'm not trying to pimp in a void, here.

Bad news: Wade Robson (remember him? Oh, popslash. You were a billion years ago) is suing Michael Jackson's estate, alleging that he was molested by the singer.

Good news: Daniel Gillies and his wife, Rachel Leigh Cook, are having a baby! If they legit name him or her Keanu Robocop, I am buying someone a fruit basket.

And now it's back to fruitlessly passing the time until Haven S4 (UGH WILL YOU NEVER BE SEPTEMBER) by watching Danish cop shows, because Hannibal has broken me and this is who I am now. (You guys, remind me to talk to you a lot about the 2004 King Arthur movie, in which Hannibal Lecter and Will Graham are two of Arthur's knights. THERE IS HORSE REINCARNATION, IT IS KIND OF FANTASTIC.)

( tvd 4.20: the originals )

Also, Haven taping monkeys: it looks like Lucas Bryant is on Beauty & the Beast *again* tonight, at 9 PM EST.

I'm sitting here, listening to Save Rock & Roll and sitting on my hands to keep from writing the Haven OT3 "when the Troubles are over, Nathan's gonna be touch-starved" story. Ten bucks says he turns into the Maine version of the Bacchae. Or, you know, the law-enforcement-not-a-lady version.

This is the kind of shit that happens when I spent a solid week listening to Fall Out Boy and stumbling back down the Supernatural hole. I THOUGHT I WAS OUT, YOU SONS OF BITCHES.

(...seriously, I am probably going to write that. And I apologize in advance, because I am rusty like a gate.)

I thought I was going to be okay, I really was. I was - fine? Happy! for the first three songs.

And then I got to Alone Together, and I realized I was crying.

I missed you so much, boys. I'm really, really glad you're back.

You guys, I am bad at this! I had no idea Patrick married his girlfriend back in September. I am--I am out of it, is what I am saying. But belated congratulations to the happy couple, and high-five for making it low-key enough that I had to find it out via a SXSW article and Wikipedia.

And then, because that is how this works with me, I watched seven episodes of this amazingly dumb show in a day. Still not as bad as the time I watched the entire 13-episode run of Conviction in an afternoon. (Totally worth it, if only to see Eric Balfour speak Spanish and bust out a confession of love during - you guessed it - a GODDAMN HOSTAGE CRISIS. I sense a theme.)

( and so we come to the rest of the story: MVP, eps 4-10 )

Oh my God you guys, we need to have a long talk about MVP. Or, as the DVD copy calls it, MVP: The Secret Lives of Hockey Wives.

( MVP: Why You Should Watch This Show )