***This Trigger Has Been Hijacked By A PSA***
Blame the moon, blame the almost-Friday-The-13th, blame the coincidental and unexpected airing of my favorite hour of television ever*,hell, we can even throw the weather into the mix as a source of blame but in th(more)e end,the blame lies squarely on the shoulders of Joss Whedon.
Because I'm going to the movies tomorrow.
An actual for-real overpriced-popcorn-selling movie theater.
Last movie I saw in a theater was Interview With A Vampire when it was first released.
I prefer watching movies that come with a pause button. Also,I'm an evil cigarette-smoker and then there's the whole sitting-behind-the-huge-hat-wearer thing.
I guess I should get to the Public Service Announcement part.
Cabin In The Woods opens tomorrow.
Friday the 13th.
Joss Whedon and Drew Goddard (Cloverfield, Lost, Buffy The Vampire Slayer) and did I mention Joss Whedon?
Anyone that knows me knows I have an addictive personality but that has nothing to do with the fact that Joss Whedon Is My Master.
Next month the summer-blockbuster-type-movie The Avengers opens. It's the first kazillion-dollar-budget-Joss-Movie and now he's going to be all kinds of big-time famous.
It's like seeing the Ramones a zillion times before they were signed then all of a sudden you hear them in supermarkets and elevators.
But I promise I won't be bitter. This time.
*Once More With Feeling BTVS S6- my favorite hour of television ever, Buffy, vampires, a musical that advances the plot and isn't just a gimmick, yummy Spuffy goodness, and, (if you're still with me and I haven't geeked you away yet) the beginning of a story-arc containing some of the best stuff I can't believe got through the censors on non-cable tv in ever.
I possibly might have Joss Whedon Obsession Issues. The non-stalkery kind.
The steep mountain was home to the high aerie castle known as Ravenscair. The road here was tilted so that only feet could navigate the grade, leaving no possibility that cart or mule could manage.
Gemma wished Anvilo was still alive: she knew his dwarven sensibilities would have th(more)e answer to her question. She tried the others.
"Why aren't there switchbacks?"
Sir Goldwell huffed into his mustache. "For tactical advantage, little druid".
He didn't know her secret.
"Seige engines, machines of war, could never be brought up to attack the fortress. Just as we must approach on foot, so too had to approach the old First Age armies when challenging the old king who ruled here."
"The last was King Ruvalotte." Aleena knew this region.
Sloth's stomach rumbled. They ignored him when he muttered "Erg, sorry".
"More honorable anyway," Goldwell continued, "to fight without catapults, if you ask me."
The mage Bargell smiled and paused to lean on the walking stick helping his ascent. "A tyrant. Ruvalotte was known as the Ear-stealer, according to our elven friend Illuryia."
At the mention of their dead Archer, the party lost some brightness. Dark was her fate three days ago- she'd been felled by a magical trap, one that cursed her to remain a phantom-ghost. With magical effort, they'd managed to lock her spirit into a special a golden bottle. Now, that vessel was tenderly wrapped, inside Gemma's pack.
Aleena broke the dark quiet, "The elves have one story, the locals had another - they blamed the monsters."
Gemma saw Sloth catch sight of the were-turtle nest.
"Those aren't what you think they are, Sloth"
"She's right." Aleena added.
He stopped mid-reach, hand above gold egg. His base need, his hunger conflicting with obedience.
Gemma pilfered one. The thief in her had to.(less)