but where do i file this

uh not to alarm anyone but i was poking through the game file with all the endings and there’s an ending where hugo and damien end up together and i don’t know what to do with this information and whether it’s achievable or not (the level20 file if anyone’s interested)

edit: i put the dialogue in order without the extra code and made a post about it here

clayexo  asked:

What's the actual meaning of 1)まもるこラげきしろ (Mamoru is protect, kora is hey??, geki is ??? Shiro is white, need proper translate) 2)あらマハさかない (It means don't mind/it's okay *after u fked up?* also need proper translate) Help please aaa ;-;

Hi! Hum, so I’m sorry but this doesn’t make much sense to me. Kind people? Can anyone translate?

I think it would help to have some context (where do those lines come from, and who’s saying them to whom?) and maybe if you had the source (audio file? Screen shot? Video?)? The fact that there are no kanji and one or two random katakana thrown in confuses me
(T-T)

Sorry, I’m still a beginner! Maybe someone more advanced will have more insights.

Important information for Content Creators on Tumblr (Last Updated June 23, 2017)

okay i know ive posted alot about this just now, but now that ive got it more or less figured out I’m gonna make a better post here and include the tags relevent to my interactions in it to ensure no one else in my fandoms/communities are blindsided like i was. 

I encourage you to make your own, or to just recopy this, tagging the fandoms and communities important to you!

CONTENT CREATORS: TUMBLR IS HIDING YOUR POSTS!

If you make a post with external links, your post will be hidden from searches. If you make a post and link to your redbubble, no one can search for your post. If you make art and link it to your deviantart or artstation, no one can search for you post. If you make any post and just throw on a “hey here is where you find me!” no one can search that post. If you want to recommend a fic or a youtube video, no one can search your post, if you… hell you get the idea. Tumblr has completely shut down content creators on this hellsite and its fucking infuriating.

I have just confirmed that the post type “Link” also does not show up in the tags. Thats right, there is an ENTIRE TYPE OF TUMBLR POST that cannot be searched. G-FUCKING-G TUMBLR.

EDIT: Okay! I have done more testing (and a video to go along with it) and at this point i can say that this is still very real, but that it only affects links to specific websites, presumably ones that tumblr doesn’t have added to some sort of “internal whitelist” of safe sites. 
I would suggest if you intend to continue tagging, to maintain a very very unique tag and use it to keep tabs on your work to ensure they are continuing to show up.
In the meantime, I will do my best to keep a list here of links verified to work, and ones verified to not work. Please feel free to comment on the post or reblog if you have your own experiences!

Also there has been confirmation that this change affects posts regardless of posting date. So it’ll hide posts made before the update went into affect; expected but good to confirm!

Edit (6/1/2017): working with someone to try to determine why an image is being hidden from the tag regardless of if it has text or a link or anything. The image in question should have worked, we tried reposting, we tried changing the file name, it still didn’t show up. Finally we changed it from a .png to a .jpg and it worked! So we thought we stumbled on something but, i posted one of my images in a test tag, as a jpg, as a png and as a transparent png and all showed up. So sometimes posts arent showing up for other reasons that have yet to be discovered (just because tumblr is shit it would seem)

Edit (6/23/2017):  So it looks like certain links might only show up in certain searches.

in this case the etsy link only showed up in recent, not in popular and not in text posts. 

Also if you wanted to try to include a non linked post in the description such as a url with the dots obfuscated by parenthesis then you have to do both the www(.) and the (.)com, one or the other will still find your post blocked.

in short using any links whatsoever COULD be problematic, using no links at all could be, but will probably increase the chances of your post being seen.

In general Tumblr’s search is absolutely degenerating, seemingly with each passing day.

WHAT TO DO?

It shuts down posts with external links, so at first i assumed internal links would be fine. and they are. if you make a page on your tumblr blog called like /links or something you can certainly link to that. But in that way you run into an issue, tumblr mobile is a piece of shit and cant load tumblr pages, and itll just take you back to the mainblog any time you try.

The best solution ive found so far is put all your relevent links in your blog description like so:

and then in every content post, call tumblr out for being a piece of shit and direct them to the links in your blog description.

Edit: In the top right hand side of photo posts you can click on it and include a single link as “source” that should work if you have one link neccessary. though if you need more you are still SOL. Find it like so:

It will appear in dash format at the bottom left of the post:

in desktop them view where it can be found, or if it can be found, varies by theme.

CONTENT CREATOR SUPPORTERS

It is important now more than ever on this hellsite that you try to support your artist and content creators, reblog as much as possible, look to find them on websites off this piece of shit, and generally do your best to spread the word and support them, since tumblr itself is trying to silence them! 

I HAVE AN ACCOMPANYING POST HERE WITH A VIDEO UPDATE AND INFORMATION PLEASE CHECK IT OUT.

Putting Lipstick On A Pig

by reddit user Pippinacious

Except for the whole murder thing, Courtney James seemed like a lovely young woman. She was bright, articulate, a dedicated college student and well liked waitress at a popular restaurant.

I met her when she was sitting in an interrogation room at the precinct. She was a bit on the larger side, dressed conservatively in pastel colors and minimal makeup, and when I came in, she introduced herself with a polite smile, as if we were meeting for a job interview as opposed to a police investigation. She had declined to have an attorney present, so I got right to business.

Keep reading

You were about to make a medical comment, Jim?

So, I was thinking about what a goddamn badass Leonard McCoy is.

Actually, I was thinking about drug shortages. I am a resident in the United States. The United States of America. First world medicine, folks. And sometimes - all too frequently - I have to revise the treatment plan of a healthy patient undergoing elective surgery because I do not have access to the ideal drug.

In other words, I compromise.

That’s a sickening feeling, friends. 

Which brings me back to Bones.

Bones, Chief Medical Officer on a five year mission in deep space, where no man has gone before. Bones, who cares so goddamn deeply. Bones, desperately filing requisition forms for medications that he has no hope of receiving in the foreseeable future. Bones, elbow deep in a unfortunate ensign that caught the wrong end of a blast in engineering, sweat dripping in his eyes, nagging thoughts of, “is his name Jason or Joseph?” Bones, mad as hell because medical takes another budget cut. Bones praying frantically to a god he doesn’t believe in, “oh, please, not again.” Bones, eyeballing a unknown species and making a quick judgment call, based on a hasty heart rate estimate and an eyeballed weight, the effective loading dose of a - probably - renal toxic drug. Bones, hissing at Spock to shut the hell up, all the while making his own calculations. Bones, who years after the mission has ended, bolts up out of a dead sleep in a panic of adrenaline, because endless nights of call have made gentle awakenings impossible. Bones, staring dumbstruck at Starfleet Medical’s supply rooms. Bones, dedicatedly carting his tiny medkit on his hip, facing an alien world with a tricorder and a few hypos. Bones, hiding in his quarters for days, pouring over all of the federation’s published xenophysiology records, searching for a connection, wondering where it went wrong. Bones replaying the day’s scene in his mind, fear still gripping his chest as Jim sleeps peacefully in the biobed. Bones alone in the field, performing a bilateral finger thoracostomy on a blue-lipped yeoman who reminds him a little too much of Joanna (if somebody does not write this fic, I will). Bones, fresh out of med school, feverently murmuring his oath with conviction and wide-eyed naivety. Bones blaming himself. Bones bitching about the unpredictability of genetically modified antimicrobials. Bones needing a goddamn drink. Bones, contemplating the nuances of therapeutic nihilism. Bones, forcing himself to meet Jim’s eyes as Jim officiates a funeral. Bones, calculating pharmacokinetics in his head. Bones, knowing there was nothing to be done, but dammit, what if? Bones, painstakingly documenting his every discovery, every treatment plan, every failure and every triumph, for the next generation of medical professionals. Bones in his office with his head in his hands. Bones, absolutely giddy and shaking with relief, “Don’t be so melodramatic; you were barely dead.”

Practicing medicine is terrifying. Every day, I am horrified at the thought that I will not be able to provide for my patients. I love my field with every breath in my body, but the responsibility is overwhelming, and sobering.

Disease and danger, indeed.


“By golly, Jim, I’m beginning to think I can cure a rainy day.

Yeah, Leonard McCoy. I think you can.

Drarry: A Summary
  • Harry calls Draco “Dragon Boy” because his name means dragon in Greek (from Latin).
  • Draco does not appreciate this and proceeds to call him “Henry” because Harry is a nickname for the German name Henry.
  • Harry also, does not appreciate his pet name.
  • Thus began the list of names they call each other.
    • “Ferret.”
    • “Scarhead.”
    • “Pretty boy.”
    • “WHOREcrux!”
    • “I’m a whore for you, blondie.”
  • Harry holds doors open for Draco. He also pulls out chairs for him.
  • Because Draco is a, “Pretty pretty princess that deserves to be treated like one.”
    • “Cough cough.”
    • “What?”
    • “Cough cough… the door?”
    • “I’m carrying all the groceries, Draco. I don’t have a free hand.”
    • “Well, put some down and open it.”
    • “Are you-”
    • “Yes, Potter, I am serious. Do I look like I open my own doors?”
  • Draco bought them a kitten.
  • He named her Rosie Malfoy-Potter.
  • She’s a little pure white kitty with clear blue eyes, and the constant need to lick Harry’s nose.
  • Harry didn’t know he was going to come home to his boyfriend holding a tiny animal, letting it crawl over his arms and onto their couch.
  • He was shocked, and angry at first.
  • But not even the Boy-Who-Lived can resist a kitten.
    • “Look at her! She’s nuzzling my hand!”
    • “Yes, I see that.”
    • “Isn’t she the cutest thing you’ve ever seen?”
    • “It’s a cat.”
    • “No, it’s our daughter!”
    • “No, it’s a cat.”
    • “Come here, let me just…”
  • Draco placed the fluffy ball of fur in Harry’s arms. She quickly warmed up to him and began snuggling into his chest.
  • Harry picked her up, pulling her in front of his face.
  • Draco pushed the kitten closer, as she cautiously sniffed his nose.
  • And licked it.
    • “See? She loves you.”
    • “….”
    • “Harry? Please, I’ll be the housewife and take care of the children. Let me have her? Let us have her?”
    • “….”
    • “Honey?”
    • “Alright, she can stay.”
  • Harry’s a workaholic.
  • Sometimes he takes extra shifts because he wants to. Not for the money.
  • This annoys Draco.
  • Before they moved in together, he didn’t know how often Harry could throw himself into his work.
  • Saving lives, trying to protect the world from forces that would never cease.
  • Sometimes he needed to be reminded that not everyone can be saved. There’s more to life than being the hero.
  • Draco was a good reminder. Like an alarm.
  • He would go off at a certain time, whenever he needed him. Whenever Harry stayed up for forty-eight hours without sleep working on a case, he was there. Ready to owl him in sick, make sure he slept that night, he got food in the morning, he made sure Harry knew he couldn’t be there for everyone. The only way to stay sane as an Auror is to know when to go home. 
    • “Harry, you can’t keep going like this.”
    • “I have to finish looking over this file. If I can find out where this kid is then-”
    • “Harry Potter!”
    • “Give that back!”
    • “No, you listen to me. You can’t keep doing this.”
    • “Doing what?”
    • “Not eating, not sleeping, not talking, only working. It’s not good for you. I’m worried. You come home, but you’re not home. You’re at work. We haven’t had sex in three weeks. You haven’t had a full meal in three weeks. Mrs. Weasley flooed wondering where you were at dinner this Sunday. You know what I told her? You were hooked on this case. Addicted. This is an addiction, Harry. You’re addicted to saving people. Addicted to helping. Yeah, well you can’t save everyone, Potter! If you’re going to have a fucking hero complex then why don’t you save the ones who really matter in your life. I’ve woken up screaming and crying twice this month, and where were you? Not next to me, not where I needed you. I’ve needed saving. I love you, you stupid prick. I fucking love you. I fucking care about you. Please, for fuck’s sake, don’t do this to yourself.To us.”
  • He stopped bringing his work home after that.
6

EA’s Get to Work Cardigan - Name Tag Removed

I’m going to skip the part where I get all sappy about three hundred of you fan-freaking-tastic people following me, because you already know how I feel. ♡

Instead, let’s talk downloads! You need Get to Work for this to show up in your game. I’ve included three files you can download - my new mesh, which includes all of the original EA colors, a file for my additional recolors (you’ll need the mesh!), and a ‘base’ DDS file if someone would like to do more recolors!  

If someone would like to recolor these, please include credit! 

Mesh + EA  |  Recolors  |  DDS file   (SFS)

Dress Code (m)

Originally posted by gotjhope

➾ reader x CEO!jimin

➾ word count: 6.3k words

➾ warnings: incredibly filthy smut with no plot at all | cumplay | dirty talk | tit fucking | slight demeaning names/ name calling | face fucking | oral sex | unprotected sex

➾ summary: ceo!jimin takes it upon himself to discipline you when your attire doesn’t exactly adhere to HR regulations

➾ a/n: okay look this is just my excuse to write a ceo!jimin smut… i just felt like i owed him big time after what i did to him in instant gratification :”) i speed wrote this in a day and didn’t proofread whatsoever rip…


The clattering sounds of typing, clicking and pages flipping lull you into a state of lethargy as your eyes flutter half-shut in your cubicle. Having graduated as an arts major two years ago, you’d never imagine being holed up with a mundane 9-5 office job that had almost nothing to do with your major. But bills needed to be paid and rent had to come from somewhere, so you find yourself trudging to work soulessly every morning, day in day out.

“Hey, are you almost done with those files I gave you this morning?” The voice of your co-worker Mingyu in the next cubicle jolts you into awareness immediately.

Keep reading

9

Moodboard → Real Percival Graves

Some people got the real problems
Some people out of luck
Some people think I can solve them
Lord heavens above
I’m only human after all

the spy au that @philosophium ordered !!


Andrew slips through a slit in the crowd, brushing through the sleek trains of expensive gowns, rich wool suits jackets catching on his own. He’s on his second flute of champagne, and the tartness keeps him focused. His attention is on the flavour and the rim of the glass and the warp of faces through it. His earpiece crackles and whispers.

He can see his mark on the opposite side of the room, surrounded by servers and liars and pretty things. One of them is all three, Andrew can tell: a waiter’s vest, a seam of over-applied foundation, and bright blue eyes.

He’s distracting, flighty, a rubber band pulled all the way back. He looks like the memory of a case file, and a name occurs to Andrew one second before Kevin hisses it into his ear.

“It’s fuckin’ Charlie Pilot. Don’t engage, Minyard, we’re not here for him.”

Andrew doesn’t make any effort to reply, just takes another pull of champagne. He’s not really watching the troupes of entertainers or the clockwork security or the velvet and silk blooming under bowing chandeliers. He’s not even watching the man he’s either going to rob or kill, who’s laughing and weedy, red in the face from the alcohol. He’s stuck on Pilot –  next to his target, holding a heavily stocked tray of appetizers, his expression pleasant and empty.

He’ll be an irritant to what should be a straightforward plan, if he keeps hovering. Andrew takes a loaded step forward and the voice in his ear complains.

“Don’t even think about moving in until Pilot leaves. He’s probably doing reconnaissance for Matt. I bet he doesn’t even know about the file.”

Andrew watches Pilot’s face tick, the way he blinks like he’s on a timer, the way he’s worrying the inside of his cheek with his teeth.

“I bet he does,” Andrew murmurs, and he drains the last of the champagne. He plucks his tie pin away from the fabric and drops it in the empty glass, leaving it on a passing tray.

“What— what the fuck Minyard, we’ve lost visuals. Do you hear me? Andrew? Andrew?”

Andrew weaves through the rest of the golden crowd, ignoring the buzz of Kevin’s reprimands in his ear. He finds a new spot on the outskirts of the crowd where Pilot has installed himself.

“Do you know how fucking expensive those cameras are? You’re such a piece of shit operative,” Kevin says. “When you inevitably come back without the intelligence and without our equipment, it’s costing us to keep you around, do you realize that?”

Andrew’s more focused on the way Pilot’s shoulders are turning to face him, the slim line of his tailored pants, that eyelash-thick smudge of un-blended make up.

“Shrimp?” Pilot offers, swaying the tray in his direction.

“No,” Andrew says, but he stays uncomfortably near, feeling along the edges of his boundaries without finding any seams. Pilot’s composure is still and reserved as a frost-ravaged garden.

“Have a good evening then,” Pilot says graciously, turning back towards the host that Andrew should be sizing up but hasn’t even looked at. He glances at him for a sliver of a moment, finds himself uninterested, and looks back at Pilot.

Andrew catches him suddenly by the arm, but relaxes his grip just as quickly, caught off guard by his own impulsivity. His own disguise is just an invitation and sun bleached hair; he isn’t playing a character like Pilot is. He’s neutral for a living, but Pilot is a new weight on his scale, unbalancing him so that he can’t quite settle at zero.

When their eyes meet, the polite, curious waiter snips out of existence. Charlie Pilot stares at Andrew, with eyes like the bluest part of a fire.

“There’s a conflict of interest,” he tells Andrew calmly. “And your interest will lose.”

“I’m not interested in anything,” Andrew says broadly.

“Hm,” Pilot says, unconvinced. “You’re lying.”

“I don’t lie,” Andrew says. He’s always saying it; it’s a novelty that employers enjoy and enemies challenge, amused.

Pilot raises his jaw, mouth twitching. “No, you wouldn’t, would you.” His eyes flicker to the side of Andrew’s face, where Kevin is breathing furiously through his earpiece, then down to the grip he still has on his forearm. He lowers his tray down until the rough edge is pressed to the root of Andrew’s hand threateningly. “You’ll want to let me go, Andrew, or you’re going to end up needing a longer armband.”

Andrew feels genuine surprise squeeze his fingers around Pilot’s wrist. He hadn’t noticed the black fabric extending a whiff beyond his crisp white sleeve. He lets go, and Pilot tucks his shoulders back, satisfied. His hair is too dark to match his freckles, Andrew notes quietly. It is, perhaps, what the make up was meant to cover up.

“You are not going to win, Charlie,” Andrew says. “We’re the more capable team.”

Pilot smiles indulgently. “‘Charlie’,” he repeats, mouth curling around the name. “It’s been a long time since I’ve been Charlie Pilot.” He jostles his tray from one hand to another, and loosens his collar with his freed hand. “And I don’t think you understand how much farther ahead we are than you. If you’re looking for information, we already have it. If you’re trying to find the connections this place has to the Yakuza, we’re the ones undoing them.”

“Who’s we? I don’t remember seeing anything about loyalty in your case file. You’re just a runner.”

Pilot looks briefly bothered by this, and he juts his chin again. “I’m loyal to whoever’s doing the work that needs to be done.”

“That doesn’t answer my question. Who are you?”

He looks down, at Andrew’s empty hands, at the hip where he’s hiding his gun. His expression is warped and sad when he looks up, like the real filling in his strange costume is finally oozing out.

“You can call me Neil,” he says, and drops the whole tray of food so that it clatters and rolls into the host’s feet. There are gasps and yelps, partygoers dodging and stooping to catch the runaway platter. Andrew looks impulsively down to track its progress, and when he looks sharply back up into the knot of activity, Neil is gone. Of course he is.

He doesn’t have time to think about where he might have disappeared to, just steps neatly into the opportunity that’s been afforded to him. He uses the distraction as a doorway directly into the offices behind the coddled host.

Kevin is asking repeatedly for updates, and Andrew fishes the earpiece out and tucks it into his breast pocket. He likes to be alone for this part, when the most important door closes behind him and everything makes as much sense as a ticking clock.

He keeps thinking of Neil’s reaction to ‘runner’, of the vulnerability trussed up in his persona. He finds himself sick to his stomach wanting to know what his real hair colour is.

He tries every door in the polished row of them, finding all of them locked. He picks the lock on the door farthest from the burble of the ballroom behind him, and cracks into what looks like a room built for business arrangements and drinking. There’s a snifter next to a half dozen tumblers on a cart along the wall, and extensive cabinets under the desk.

He feels his way along the underside of the desk, and opens each drawer, idealistically left unlocked and unprotected. He finds useless information and shady information and heaps of anonymous, unlabeled tapes.

He finds the safe in the floor, facing up patiently under a wingback chair and a panel of floorboard. He stoops so that he’s face to face with it, shrugs his jacket off like a dead skin onto the floor, and puts the heart of a stethoscope to the face of the safe.

He’s sweating, spread out surreptitiously on the floor, but the safe is flimsy. It cracks in under an hour, the party wilting two rooms over, pressure taking him by the hair. Andrew flicks the door open impatiently, unwinding the stethoscope from around his neck.

It’s filled top to bottom with paper, and he reaches for the first file, carding his fingers through the spill of sheets.

Got you, it says. Over and over again, in unassuming little typescript. And on the next page, got you.

Andrew’s fingers flex. The next file is the same, and the next. A million taunting, twirling repetitions: got you. Got this. Got here first.

The safe was already cracked. The list of names was already stolen. Neil’s face winks and swarms when he closes his eyes, furious. If you’re looking for information, we already have it.

He roots around for the bud in his pocket and pops it back into his ear. He leans back, splayed away from the spill from the safe, the stacks of failure. He enunciates clearly into the microphone sewn into his collar.

“We have to find Neil.”

Keep reading

2

It’s very [moist in Vancouver] and so my hair gets very frizzy and so it takes forever, and between every single take they’d, we’d have to stand there and blow dry my hair again and things take a long time
And I got pissed at that?
Well, I think it added to the tension of the fact that I took so fucking long to, you know, is that anything to do with it?
Well, kind of makes me sound like an asshole

Steal my car, I'll wreck your life.

Back story, i am apart of a small family-owned type used car dealership (cue used car salesman joke here) we have maybe 50 cars on the lot at any time and our main business is sub-prime or people with less than perfect credit. We truly want to help the people that can’t afford/have the credit to buy from a new car dealership. We’re actually very liked in our small community.

So recently I had these customers, lets call her wife and him husband (They’re early 20’s). They come into my store and I like them, they seem like a nice young couple trying to start their lives out, they have two very sweet little girls, and could just use a break. They have made some mistakes in their early lives and have less than perfect credit. I coach them on how to improve their credit and they seem sincerely interested in fixing it so I bust my ass to get them a loan with the wifes mother cosigning on a nice third row SUV. Wife is literally crying hugging me because every other dealer turned them down. Now they are a little short on the down payment so i take a check for the balance and we agree i’ll cash it on his next payday (Mistake number one) but pretty common in this line of work.

I forget about them until the next week when I drop the check at the bank along with other deposits. The next thing i know i receive a notice that the check has bounced. Along with a couple NSF fees attached for me, and the check comes back. It’s a dollar amount that is considered a first degree misdemeanor in our state, just under a felony. I reach out to wife to see what happened and how we can make arrangements to get this taken care of. The last thing I want to do is go after a young couple with two small kids. At first wife is a little shocked and insists the funds were pulled from their account and I show them the picture of the NSF check. She understands and says they can pay half in 2 weeks when she’s paid again and in another 2 weeks pay the other half. I agree to this and just take them on their word (mistake 2).

A couple weeks rolls around and I don’t hear from wife or husband and am now thinking i’ve been taken for a ride Ignoring my calls/texts/etc you get the point. I get a call from the bank and come to find out they haven’t made their first payment either.

Now with this particular bank if the customer does not make their first payment we have to “Buy Back” the deal. Basically we have to give the bank the money they sent us for the loan. After blowing up their phones and facebook they finally call me back. I get the sob story he got let go from his job and he just started a new one and mom is going to help them get back on their feet. I go through hell and high water with the bank to make a deal that if they make their payment they’ll keep the loan but i’m still on the hook if they miss any of the next 3 payments. Wife also tells me they’ll make payments to me on the bounced check once he starts getting paychecks. So i agree, they make their payment to the bank and i go about my life….Until the next month comes around.

I get an email from the bank saying wife didn’t make the next months payment and won’t answer their calls. At this point i’m furious and ready to just go get their vehicle. They won’t answer any of my calls and call mom, mom scrounges everything in her social security paycheck to help try to make the payment for them and is short. Wife and husband tells her they’ll cover the balance and of course don’t pay. Bank says deal is a buyback we need our money back for the loan within 7 days. Now the only way I can payback their loan is if my floor plan (Basically giant credit card we buy cars on) gets pictures of the car in my possession.

I try to call/text/email/message on facebook to get ahold of both wife and husband and they block me on everything. They’re basically just stealing the vehicle without paying. They even blocked mom who has been trying to help them get this handled, yes they screwed over their own mother in this ordeal. I just want the vehicle back and move on with life. So this is where i go @prorevenge on them.

I begin by dropping the check off at the local prosecutor, and they’re delighted to file charges against them. I do some skip tracing calling family members, all of which are more than happy to help because come to find out husband has had 7 jobs in 4 months and has burned every single family member with money they’ve borrowed. I find wifes Father on Facebook, Father has been trying to take custody of deadbeat wife and husbands 2 kids because of how they treat them. He informs me they are staying in sisters house right over the border (we are on the state line of 2 states remember this) I call up a repo company and even myself drive the hour to go get the vehicle. They’ve been hiding it in the garage (according to neighbors and repo company). I do some searching and find out they’re both on probation for stealing a bunch of stuff from multiple stores. So I of course find and call up Mrs. Probation officer to see if she has a last known address. I then mention to her they’re staying above the state line and bounced a very large check to me, and they’re facing fresh charges in my town, she appreciates the knowledge.

Now while I was up at their house one evening I talk to one of the neighbors (Who also hate them they’re always yelling at their kids and eachother) and convince neighbor to call me if they see the vehicle outside. It took one day, I get the call, I send a very large friend who lives nearby them to go get the vehicle. After many expletives, berating my friend, they hand over the vehicle. But not before finally calling me while he was there and tell me how they’re going to sue and blah blah.

I’m out quite a bit of money from the ordeal, but here’s the best part. I just found out by living out of state they violated probation and just got sentenced to 30 days in jail from that, and they also just had their “video court date”(because they’re currently in jail with the probation violation) with the local judge on the new charges of the bounced check. I got my vehicle back and guess what? Deadbeat wife’s Father got custody of the 2 kids.

3

“I remember one time I was asked to do a scene where I was- the FBI agent that I was, but um, directing a line of male, older FBI agents to do something. And I remember feeling, I’m 24 years old! I can’t- wha- me? Like, how am I- I don’t even know how I’m supposed to act that. With my squeaky voice… what, what does one do to pretend that one is in control of this line of men. And then you do it, and once you do it then you feel a bit more confident. Then you do it again and feel a bit more confident.” -Gillian Anderson (x)

3

“The actual kissing and you know - that was never a part of the movie and so we never would have shot that, no. The only time we did that was as a joke. Gillian and I did it to our liking and then I said, you know, ‘Let’s do one, let’s do one where we - I take you up against the wall here.’ But that was never- there was never any thought - we were outside of the camera’s view actually at that point, so that’s not even on film.”

— David Duchovny (TV Guide, 1998)