I really interested with this question. When Bill asked Ford’s permission to get into his mind, Ford said, “you Can call me a friend from now to the end of time” does it mean that the Ford’s mind is always open for Bill?!
“So soon?” Jheselbraum casts a look at at dimension 46’/, where Mabel Pines reaches to shake the hand of the monster they defeated only a year or so ago. “I would have expected at least a few more centuries.”
“I’m sure you know that time is relative.” The is a tone of amusement in the Ancient’s words. “It has been a lot longer than that.”
The Oracle takes that in, watching the events in Stanford’s home dimension play out, and hums in amusement, “‘A different form’,” she repeats to herself, “You couldn’t resist the irony, could you?”
The Axolotl chuckles, “Rather fitting, considering the many times humanity was deceived by him.”
How do you think Wonder Woman will do at the box office?
(this answer ended up being really long because I rambled, sorry aha)
As long as the reviews aren’t a disaster then it should do great, and even if reviews are bad DC fans have proven they can still make a DC movie a financial hit regardless. I’m hoping the female audience will show up for this like they did for ‘Beauty and the Beast’ which is breaking records left and right. I’m expecting ‘Wonder Woman’ to have a huge first weekend and hit at least $600-700million total worldwide, and I think that’s probably what WB are aiming for to consider it a hit. Anything above that is a happy bonus.
It will have competition at the box office which could potentially hinder it but we’ll have to wait and see. ‘Pirates of the Caribbean 5′ is released the weekend before ‘Wonder Woman’ and will undoubtedly have a strong second week. That’s a billion dollar franchise and seems to be getting more buzz and interest than I anticipated. ‘Baywatch’ will also be starting it’s second weekend when WW debuts, which could also make a small dent in Wonder Woman’s debut but nothing major. Fast and Furious 8, Guardians of the Galaxy Vol 2, Alien: Covenant, and King Arthur will all still be playing in theatres too which isn’t ideal but they’ll be old news by then. ‘Captain Underpants’ is the only other new big movie released the same day as ‘Wonder Woman’ but that’s aimed at a completely different audience. Hopefully women (and men but especially women) don’t end up taking their kids to see that movie instead of showing up for ‘Wonder Woman’.
Then the week after ‘Wonder Woman’ debuts ‘The Mummy’ is released. The trailer for that movie got a crazy amount of views in it’s first week. I think it’ll actually make a real dent in Wonder Woman’s second weekend numbers but it should still hold pretty strong. The rest of June sees Cars 3, Transformers 5, and Despicable Me 3 being released. That’s a lot of competition overall to eat away at ‘Wonder Woman’s legs so it really needs to make big money in it’s first couple of weeks. BvS and Suicide Squad each had several weeks at the box office with zero competition. ‘Wonder Woman’ doesn’t have that luxury. It barely has a single weekend all to itself because 2017 is so overcrowded with blockbusters but out of all of those movies it is the only one released that month aimed at a female audience. The male audience is definitely going to be split between several movies but if a large proportion of the female audience shows up for ‘Wonder Woman’ it’ll be huge.
he sets a steaming mug on the coffee-table beside her, the scent of hot chocolate curling her lips up. last night, he made them rib-eyes with spinach and mashed potatoes, used that ridiculously expensive grass-fed butter and everything; she picks up the mug, takes a creamy sip, and decides that she can summarize this weekend with the word rich. though they only have two space-heaters in this little cabin, the room feels cozy nonetheless. she lounges on the couch, the secret history on her pajamaed lap, her legs up on the cushions while he sits down at her feet, lifts her toes up onto his lap. she sets the mug back down, returns to her words while he takes one of her wool socks into his hands and rubs his thumb along her arch. yes, she thinks; rich is the correct term.
though she’s unsure as to whose cabin this is, she knows it belongs to an old friend of mulder’s, some guy whose wife or daughter or other relative had been abducted, and due to mulder’s brash heroism - she stopped listening as soon as he began the story, for she figured it wouldn’t be true or that the true version would be far less exhilarating than mulder’s rendition - and she doesn’t want to question the ownership, not when it’s ever-so-softly snowing outside and not while their little space of the adirondacks is so blissfully, wonderfully quiet. according to the true locals, this is off-season, and they’re in a portion of the state that’s been owned by a specific family for years; the lake water, apparently, is safe to drink though she made sure mulder boiled it anyway. nonetheless, it’s just them and the neighboring cabin’s occupants out here for the weekend, the nearest paved road being thirty miles away, the closest gas station probably thirty-five.
“are we staying in today?” he asks as he rubs her feet, still tired from their past week of nonstop paperwork. to skinner on friday, mulder claimed that he would have a twenty-four hour virus starting on that coming monday, a lie that skinner grinned and bore; as for her excuse to spend the weekend away, she was registered to attend a conference in alexandria that she’d intended to attend though mulder’s mentioned it hundreds of times that, technically speaking, they’re both playing hooky. yesterday, they spent the morning snowshoeing the property and hiking the short path down to the frozen-over lake, but today, life sounds best when her book, a blanket, and mulder are involved.
glancing out the window, she watches as an evergreen folds heavily beneath the falling snow; outside, the world is silent but full of change, the gravity shifting as it does with every storm. to herself, she wonders if they might end up snowed in and finds she doesn’t mind that prospect.
“i’d like to,” she says as he switches to her other foot.
of course, she’d been resistant at his first mention of a weekend like this, one planned out and researched and intended for - she nearly cringes at the word - romance.
“just wait for a holiday weekend instead,” she insisted as they sat together in the basement office, as she flicked through some new file, as she remained friendly but indifferent toward him in the way she’d mastered at work over the years. though their relationship had changed drastically - in a good way, in the best of ways - since he kissed her on the first, she still needed to be professional. “i’d rather not take time off.”
“but it is a holiday weekend,” he gave softly, his eyes puppying and his gaze silently hurt.
“mulder, martin luther king day is in january, not february.”
“yeah, i know that.”
“then what holiday are you talking about?”
and though she knew that their territory since he kissed her on the first was uncharted, and though she knew that her priorities didn’t tend toward hallmark holidays, and though she knew better than to think he would overlook such a thing, she stared incredulously at him, couldn’t remember any february holiday other than her birthday though even that one was hardly worth celebrating.
“that’s the weekend of valentine’s day,” he explained, his eyes downcast, his ribs still as he waited for the inevitable rejection. “the fourteenth’s that monday.”
and now, she’s playing hooky for the first time in her career, and she’s wearing his thermal shirt, and he made her belgian waffles for breakfast, the world beyond them is a mess of bright white, and work is the last thing on her mind.
“i think there’s a scrabble board on the bookshelf,” he says, glancing back at the dusty, faded stack of almanacs; this place, all gas-powered and wooden, looks exactly the way a cabin should look, the decor straight out of the 1960s, the mugs in the cabinet all fading shades of green and yellow, all of the furniture holding the scent of pine. if there’s a box of scrabble in here, it’ll be an old version, the rulebook fading and three or four of the pieces missing. looking to him, she smiles softly, figures that everything’s more alluring when it has a quirk or two.
“yeah,” she offers, folding her pages over her bookmark, setting the novel down on the coffee-table. then, she shimmies down against the couch, her knees falling over his lap, and motions for him to come closer. though the word of the weekend is rich, she figures contact would also suffice.
“we’re not going to fit,” he warns but leans down alongside her anyway; with his folded legs draping across her hips and his arm steadying himself around her stomach, she exhales, her mind blanking meditatively, her heartbeat slow and soft.
“i’m sorry that there’s not much to do around here,” he whispers against her skin, his lips ghosting against her collarbone. “i should’ve planned something else. though i know you like quiet places, this might be a little too quiet.”
“no, no,” she says, shaking her head as she twines his fingers through his hair. then, she quirks a lip, says, “a calm, quiet weekend with you is a rare treat.”
“we could’ve gone to san jose,” he muses; though she’s not entirely sure, she thinks he’s joking. “i heard that there have been sightings there. we could’ve stayed up until four in the morning, looked for flying saucers, and eaten junk food all weekend.”
“how romantic,” she deadpans.
“this hasn’t been romantic at all,” he grumbles, the statement self-deprecating, his words intended for himself only.
on the drive from some tiny rural airport in vermont to this cabin, he brought out his blues brothers cd to keep them entertained while the radio stations went in and out; he imitated the guys on npr for a certain stretch of miles, each quip being met with a smile from her. though they arrived too late on friday night to see much of the property, he offered her a ski mask and sat on the cabin’s porch with her, pointed out the seven sisters constellation and labeled it the smudge in the sky. that night, she took his sleep-shirt out of his duffel, put it on before he could, and the incredulous but deeply satisfied look he gave her for that - and the mild-mannered but insistent way he managed to get it back, or at least to let it reside on the bedroom’s floor for the remainder of the evening - was worth any backroad boredom they could’ve had. though she always knew he was loving, could discern his intelligent passion from the moment she first met him, she’s still shocked with every extraneous touch, with every unnecessary caress, with the way he’ll stop stirring risotto just so he can bring her into his arms, and she’s far more shocked with how at ease she feels with him. when he makes her dinner, when he borrows her chapstick though she insists that he shouldn’t, when he spoons up against her in bed as though he could read her mind and sense that she felt cold, she feels her mind soften, her muscles relax; simultaneously, they’re honeymooners and best friends, and as she turns her head, kisses his forehead, she whispers, “it’s been romantic.”
“but has it been a valentine’s day kind of romantic?” he asks.
“of course it has,” she laughs.
“you’re asking someone who forgot about the holiday altogether.”
“so i should’ve made this year so memorable that you would never forget it.”
she closes her eyes, breathes him in, thinks of how many hours they have to themselves, just the two of them in the middle of nowhere on a snowy day, books and scrabble keeping them company, this cabin making them feel as though they’re the only people left on earth.
“i’ll never forget it,” she whispers to him. “i promise.”
Ever in hurry trying to get there
my dear friend
where are you going pray tell please do tell me where how is it I inquire you still don’t know there is no unknown destination stop and breathe for a moment you arrived long ago eventually all things pass yet smile let me dry that tear how will it be any better there if you cannot find your happiness here precious moments are lost when we delay set your travel plans aside relax, enjoy, live a little if you wish to discover all that’s meaningful simply be fully alive and loving this day
It may have meandered just a bit, but this “little” poem was originally inspired by Thich Nhat Han’s teaching, “Smile you have arrived.” To paraphrase, he states we’re ever delaying our happiness today while awaiting some future event (arrival) such as when I graduate, when we’re married, when the kids are grown, etc. He then lightheartedly adds, the final destination for all is a pine box, why be in a hurry to get there. Enjoy today my friends, and please do smile, you truly have arrived. Love, Mike.
info- you find your age in this (17), just remember “being legal” wasn’t a thing back then. e/c = eye colour
You lay awake, the sun shining through your eyelids when you feel Dan shift next to you. He groans a bit, tightening his grip on you which causes you to sigh in content.
You haven’t been held like this before. You felt almost safe, relaxed for the first time in ages. You open your eyes to take a peak at Dan, but when you open your eyes you are met with his brown ones starring at you.
“Good morning, love.” He whispers, leaning down to kiss you. He softly presses his lips onto yours, pulling away after a few seconds.
“Morning, Daniel.” You whisper back, a smile playing on your lips. You had only met him two days ago, but he was your husband and so far his presence has made you happy. You were hoping the more you get to know him, the happier he’d make you. You were stuck with him until death, after all.
“I told you last night, call me Dan.” He whispers, reminding you.
“Yes, but in front of people I am to address you as Daniel. It is your proper and fu-” He cuts you off by pressing his lips to yours. He presses harder against you, if that was possible, before pulling away and kissing your forehead.
“Daniel, we have to get ready.” You start, teasing him a bit causing him to narrow his eyes a you. “You have your celebration today and I’ve got to go to class.”
“Class?” He asks.
“Yes, I’ve got to learn to be a proper queen for my king, and today is one of my last classes. Been taking them since I was five.” You explain.
“But I thought classes were only from age five to eighteen?” He asks, a look of realization settling over him.
“You’re not eighteen?” He asks, sitting up. You sit up as well and turn to face him.
“No, I turn eighteen in one week. Next Friday.” You answer.
“Well then I’ve got only a week to plan the celebration, dammit.” He says under his breath.
“No. No celebrations.” You answer. He looks over at you curiously before agreeing. You both get up and get ready for the day. You no longer had maids to dress you, that was Daniel’s job now. He helped you after you explained how to tie the corset properly. You had to keep reassuring him that it wasn’t tight enough and you would be fine.
“I don’t understand those things, it’s so tight it looks as if you can’t breath.” He says, pulling his jacket on.
“The point of it is to look thinner.” You explain.
“I knew that, I just think it’s unnecessary.” He says.
“That’s all good and well, but I’m afraid that we are going to be late if we converse any longer, dear.” You say, walking towards the door.
“Ugh, don’t call me dear. We aren’t old enough for that.”
“You’re old.” You say, laughing a bit and resting your hand on the door knob.
“Hey!” He says, acting offended. “I’m only 21!” You laugh, pulling the door open and pulling him out after it. You fix yourselves, linking you arms as you walk down the corridor. You stop at the room where Dan’s celebration was to be held.
“Have fun.” You whisper as he opens the door, joining the men sitting inside. You continue down a few more corridors until you reach your class.
You had finished your class early for the day and were walking to meet Dan at the room of the celebration. It was about three hours past and you knew that the party would have ended or been close to it. You stop outside the door, ready to knock when you hear your name mentioned from the inside. You pause to listen.
“So was Queen y/n a good fuck, Daniel?” One voice said.
“Bet her pretty little mouth did more than smiling and talking if you know what I mean.” Another voice said.
You hear Dan nervously laugh.
“Must’ve been tigh-” You’d had enough. You knocked loudly.
“That must be your lady, Danny.” Someone yelled.
“Go get her! Before someone else in the castle does, there’s a line.” A clearly drunken voice yells. People gasp and shush the man. Must’ve been a secret.
You feel tears brimming your eyes.
No one has ever spoken of you this way. You were a Princess, now a Queen. People are not to speak that way!
“There’s what?” Dan’s voice says from inside the room, sounding infuriated.
“You know what? The crude comments were enough, but a line to see who could fuck my wife and your Queen is unacceptable. I suggest you get rid of any evidence of that before you’re all punished.” Dan growls the last bit and the door swings open. He almost crashes into you. He looks down, ready to yell when he notices it’s you and sees your state.
There were tears running down your cheeks, not many, but enough to piss off Dan. He sends a glare back into the room of men before slamming the door and embracing you.
“Love, I’m so sorry you heard any of that. You don’t deserve that shit.”
“Dan, don’t swear.” You whisper.
“Dan, huh?” He asks, trying to cheer you up.
“Quiet.” You breath, laughing a bit. He pulls you by your hand down the corridor, linking your arms after a bit as you manage not to trip over your dress. You arrive at your bedroom.
“Daniel, we have to go to the dining hall, they are expecting us in ten min-” He cuts you off with a rough kiss. He moves his lips passionately against yours, filled with lust and something else. He pushes you back onto the bed, pining you down and boxing you in with his forearms on either side of your face.
“They can wait.” He says, kissing your lips.
“You see,” He kisses your jaw, “y/n.” He kisses your neck.
“I don’t like what they said anymore than you do.” He breaths, kissing down your neck and making his way to your collarbones, kissing the sweet spot he found last night, making your breath hitch. “And you see, love.” He brings his face back to yours, your lips not even a centimeter apart. He looks you straight in the eyes, his chocolate orbs peering into your e/c eyes. There’s a fire burning behind the brown of his.
Stan is a powerhouse with surprisingly good footwork and convincing feints, but tires more quickly nowadays. He’s not always quick enough to dodge or block incoming attacks, but he’s used this to his advantage since he’s pretty good at taking hits. He strikes when you do because when his punches land, they hit REALLY hard, and he knows it doesn’t take many of his hits for a knockout.
Ford is a slippery one, much more likely to dodge and dodge well, then come back with a flurry of quick jabs to test your defenses. His strikes don’t have the overwhelming power that Stan’s do, but he just needs to buy himself enough time to find your weakness. Surprises everyone by being more likely to fight dirty than Stan (except when fighting Stan).
Soos will attempt to distract you with a sexy belly dance. Everyone is horrified when it works.