take out a loan

anonymous asked:

Hide part of the money so he doesn't know it exists. Or hide it completely. My parents took everything we made and we are still paying for our college bc we had to take out loans. We had to depend on them bc they took away our independence by taking our money. So lie and hide it. You'll never regret it.

it’s not that he knows exactly how much i make, but he always guilt trips me that i don’t “help him enough” with money and like okay then! i’m already super stressed and tired, just let me overwork myself right into the grave, thanks

Gemma Doesn’t Like You: Part 2

Part 1

Masterlist linked in bio


A month after Y/n’s encounter with Gemma, she hasn’t been seen again. She had cut ties with Harry and his family, meaning she started taking out loans and working every day just to pay off her schooling. Harry had absolutely no access to her. He never expected his last moments with Y/n to be in a three-hour car ride where silence consumed them whole as Y/n wouldn’t even look at him. The memory still haunts him, in his sleep and even when he’s awake, laying on their bed with a glass full of bourbon at 4 in the morning.

He’s changed since then, every bit of him broken and unfixable. He questions his reason for living. With finishing his career and his friends busy managing businesses and living their lives, the only thing keeping Harry going was now gone, had disappeared from his life and showed no sign of return. He saw a future with Y/n, a new beginning to an end with her, and now that it’s over, he feels his reason to live and his future has turned non-existent.

Gemma hasn’t heard from Harry ever since that night, either. She had tried numerous times to explain herself but he simply ignored her, blaming her for ruining his life. She didn’t know exactly what to think, she believed what she did was to protect him, but she started to doubt herself whenever Anne told her he’s been locked up in his house with excessive amounts of alcohol and drinking his pain away. She had hoped a part of him would have learned that she was right and moved onto a different woman, but she knew that was highly unlikely. She was just frustrated, not only with Harry, but with herself as well.

“You and Harry need to talk about things.” Anne demands through the phone.

Gemma rolls her eyes, letting out a slight groan.

“Mum, if he wants to put all the blame on me, he can have fun doing that. However, there isn’t a thing I’ve done wrong and I’m not just going to sit here and-“

“I have never seen your brother more miserable in my life.” Anne whispers, a slight quiver in her voice as she speaks. “He’s not doing well, mentally, at least.”

Anne lets out an almost inaudible sigh, “Gemma, I don’t care what your intentions were, but the outcome of what you did is killing him.”

Gemma takes in a shaky breath, leaning her elbow on the kitchen counter, placing the palm of her hand on her forehead.

"I’m not calling you a bad guy, but please, my Gem, fix this.”

“But mum, I-“

“They drove three hours to see you just for you to deliberately embarrass her in front of her boyfriend.”

Anne’s tone suddenly became rough, not tolerating the fight Gemma has been constantly putting up whenever they discussed the situation.

"I understand you were trying to protect your brother but that is not how you go about it. Now, I will not tell you again, you speak to Harry about this before you lose your brother forever.”

The line goes dead against Gemma’s ear. She sighs, locking her phone before pressing her forehead against the kitchen counter. She knows she has to talk to Harry about this, but a part of her still feels like she can’t allow Harry to stay with Y/n. It’s as if her big sister instincts kicked in. She doesn’t want to see him hurt because of Y/n, but she questions whether she’s the one doing it instead.

“Fine, fine!” Gemma groans to herself, picking up her car keys from the counter, “Guess I’ll have to fix this.”


Harry decides that it’s a good night to go out. A new bar has opened up a couple blocks from his home, and he feels it’s time for him to at least grief outside of his bedroom. Of course he was drunk prior to his arrival, and he went alone, but that didn’t change the fact that this is the most improvement he’s shown since Y/n left.

“Jus’ some vodka, please.” He slurs, struggling to get onto the bar stool properly.

The bartender pours him his drink, which Harry takes a big swig of. He has never been one to rely on alcohol for his problems. He’s always just learned to get over them and to never look back on the situation. But this? This is different. Alcohol is his only way of becoming numb, an attempt to escape his horrifying reality.

If there’s one thing he’s learned, it’s that alcohol actually makes it worse. It numbs him, but the second Y/n enters his mind, there’s no way of getting her out. At least when sober, he can cook, listen to music, read, or write to distract himself from the thoughts of her. But once alcohol is in his system, Y/n is barricaded inside, trapped in his conscious. And in some sick, twisted way, Harry loves it.

Harry lifts his drink up to his lips, looking around the bar for, hopefully, a friend he hasn’t spoken to in a while. He almost gives up on his attempts of finding company when, suddenly, he sees a mysterious woman across the bar. Maybe it’s the intoxication playing tricks on his brain, but she just looks so much like her. He can’t stop staring at her, so much of her reminds him of Y/n. The way her hair flows naturally to her breasts, and how she moves her body almost perfectly like Y/n does. He could swear she’s even holding the same drink Y/n would be, and her lips are colored with a color that reminds him so much of Y/n’s favorite lipstick shade. There is no way it is her, this isn’t her scene, but it’s almost like this woman was inspired by Y/n’s natural, charming looks.

After seeing her, everything became a blur. He remembers approaching her, but doesn’t remember any conversation they might have had. All he can remember afterward was letting her kiss him and asking if her if she wanted to leave with him. And now, he’s making out with her on his bed. His hands roaming her body, tongue battling dominance against hers. He aggressively holds her hips down, squeezing the tips of his fingers into her hips. She moans into his kiss, biting his bottom lip as her hands slide underneath his shirt. She lifts his shirt off his body, Harry panting heavy breaths before going back down to kiss her more. His lips travel to her neck, nibbling on her skin, sucking on her jawline.

His hands travel to her legs, hitching them up so they can hook around his waist. He pins her hands above her head, where she lets out a tiny giggle as he does so. His lips travel down to her chest, chin pulling down the neck of her shirt the lower he goes. His hips move against hers, the friction hot against his skin. He bites down on her shoulder, his hands gripping onto her shirt, ready to discard it from her body.

“Harry” she whispers, nails gently scraping down his back.

The voice that whispered his name makes him come in touch with reality. This isn’t right, this isn’t Y/n. How could he be touching another woman like this? She doesn’t even feel right. Her skin isn’t as soft as Y/n’s. Her hair isn’t as light at Y/n’s, either, and the way she moves against him isn’t as effortless and magnetic as Y/n’s. Her voice doesn’t make his heart race and her touch doesn’t set his skin on fire like Y/n’s always has.

Harry quickly places his hand onto her chest and pushes himself off of her.

No!” he growls.

The woman bounces on the bed, her face twisting with confusion when he begins to aggressively put his shirt back on. He’s already crying, his hands rubbing over his face as he keeps whispering “That’s not her. She’s not her.”

“What the fuck?” she squeals, propping herself up with her elbows and she stares at his back–his way of choosing to not face the situation.

“You need to get out.” Harry cries, his body like a ticking time bomb, ready to explode the second she leaves the room.

He grabs a glass from his nightstand, pouring bourbon from a bottle left there for nights he wasn’t able to sleep, an accessible reliant to help him become numb.

How could he do this? He never imagined himself being that intimate with another woman. Y/n was the only one he’s ever been comfortable with, exposing parts of him nobody else even knew existed. He may be famous, but he was never able to find women he felt stable with. To him, they were temporary, just to keep some sort of consistency in his hectic lifestyle. But he never felt love, never felt a connection with them, not until he met Y/n. She opened him up, discovered parts of him nobody else took time to discover. He never felt so alive the way he did with her, like his job and the entire world he knew meant absolutely nothing without her.

“What?” the woman asked again, sitting up at the foot of his bed.

“Please just get out!” Harry roars, his rage taking over as he throws his bourbon-filled glass across the room.

The woman flinches as pieces of broken glass fall onto the floor, quickly gathering her belongings before making her way out the bedroom door. As she was hurrying down the stairs, trying to fix herself, her body rams into another.

“What in the-?”

“S-so sorry” she stutters, “so sorry.”

Gemma turns her head around to watch the mysterious woman walk out the door. Her eyebrows furrow in confusion, utterly lost as to what just happened.

“Harry?” She calls.

The only response she gets back is sounds of objects being thrown and Harry’s drunken slurs. Her eyes widen, quickly rushing up the last bit of stairs to reach where Harry is. When she reaches his bedroom, Harry is throwing the sheets off the mattress. The pillows had already been thrown across the room, the duvets pooled by his feet. He’s muttering to himself, quietly, strings of slurred curses harshly leaving his lips as he drowns in inhumane sobs. Gemma’s mouth hangs open as he aggressively flips the mattress off the springs of the bed, screaming as he does so. This is no Harry she’s ever seen. He’s almost animalistic, but in a more depressed sense, like his violence is derived from desperation and guilt.

“Harry!” Gemma yells, quickly approaching the mattress that has ended up on the floor.

“What the fuck are you doing?!”

Harry watches as she places the mattress back in it’s place, almost throwing up everything inside of him as he looks at it. It was a simple object, meant for comfort and rest. But it was so much more to him. Almost all his favorite memories with Y/n happened on that mattress. Hours of countless jokes, tickle fights, making love, and even stupid fucking fights that they later joked about happened on that mattress, between those sheets, upon those pillows. But now? He’s ruined it. He touched another woman on there, made another woman feel good on the mattress that was meant for him and Y/n.

“I was on there with some other woman” Harry breathes out, gulping once he finishes his sentence. “I don’t even know her name, Gem. I don’t know what I just did.”

She looks up at him. His face is crimson and covered in tears, his hair a complete mess, eyes red and wet, almost trying to hold back all the tears built in them. He’s shaking, almost like he’s lost control of his body.

“Harry, it’s okay. You guys- you guys aren’t together anymore. You didn’t do anything wrong.” Gemma says softly, picking at the sheets that lay on the floor.

She can’t lie, she suddenly feels like a villain when she sees him like this. He almost looks dead as he stares at the bed emotionless. Harry is the last person she’d expect to lose their temper. He was always the strong one in the family. When their parents first got divorced, Gemma had felt so broken. Anne wasn’t much better. They both broke down several times a night, holding onto each other for dear life, as if trying to keep their family together. Harry was the one who helped them through it. Although he felt as if his entire world was flipped upside down, he remained strong, for not only his family, but for himself. This had happened countless times throughout their lives. Whatever came at him, Harry was always able to take it strongly, never showing anybody, including himself, the pain that was inflicted on him.

“How could you say that?” Harry whispers, still refusing to look at Gemma. “I was on our bed with another woman. I did everything wrong.”

Not knowing how to respond, Gemma ignores his comment, blinking her tears away, quickly tearing her gaze from her broken brother to look at the shattered glass on the floor.

“Do you have any plastic bags for that?” She asks quietly, getting up from her spot to look by his nightstand.

“Closet.”

Gemma opens up his closet, looking sadly at the half-filled rack of Harry’s clothes. They are pushed perfectly to one side, as if he felt like he couldn’t occupy Y/n’s. It doesn’t just look empty, but it feels empty, even to Gemma. It doesn’t even look right.

She shakes her head, rummaging through a bin on the floor. As she grabs a plastic bag from the bottom, a small, black velvet box falls onto the floor right by her feet. Gemma’s heart drops the second she sees it, almost afraid of what it actually is.

She hesitantly picks it up, opening it slowly. A sob rips through her, a diamond engagement ring set perfectly in its place. It shines against the dimmed lights in Harry’s bedroom, making Gemma’s heart break.

“What is this, Harry?” Gemma asks.

Harry doesn’t answer, unmoving in the same position, looking at his bed, silent cries and words of guilt leaving his mouth as Gemma speaks.

“Harry, what is this?” she asks, harsher this time, demanding for the answer she needs to hear from him.

He turns his head over, looking sadly at the box, his lips pressed harshly together. He closes his eyes, excess tears running down his cheeks, almost wishing he wasn’t reminded of it. He looks down, his hand traveling to the back of his neck.

“I was going to marry her” Harry whispers, “Wanted to marry her.”

Gemma inhales sharply, her face twisting with guilt as she looks at her brother like he’s a lost puppy. She feels her heart break for him. Not only did he not get the chance to marry Y/n, but it was her own fault that he couldn’t marry her. It was Y/n’s choice to break off things with Harry, and honestly, Gemma couldn’t be happier when she found out they weren’t together anymore. She wanted Harry to move on and find a woman who respected and loved him for who he was, not for his money. But as she looks at him now, alone and emotionally damaged, how could she be happy? He wanted marriage, a life and a family with Y/n, and she completely broke that. She had completely taken away his happiness and future.

“H-Harry, I-“

Her apology is interrupted by the doorbell, making her sigh before putting the ring back in the bin.

“I’ll get it. Just try to clean up, please.”

Harry gives her a small nod before Gemma makes her way down the steps, wiping her sweating hands on her jeans before making her way to the door. When she opens it, her breath is taken right out of her lungs. Y/n is standing there, fiddling with her fingers nervously.

She didn’t expect Gemma to answer, but it was exactly what she wanted. Since everything happened, Y/n felt guilty for not talking things out with Harry. Oh, how she missed him. How every part of her craved him everyday. How her skin craved his touch, how her ears craved his voice and lips craved his. No part of her was able to let him go. She attempted to many times to rid the pain that has inevitably taken over her, but nothing could help her. She was helpless, the pain had consumed her whole and made her into an emotionless woman, unable to feel anything besides pain.

She regretted everything. He was willing to throw everything away for them. He fought for their relationship so strongly, and she just left, not putting up a fight back. Y/n planned on talking to Gemma, however, she didn’t think it would happen so soon. She intended on working things out with Harry before making peace with her, but it seems as though she has to start where she wanted to end.

“Y/n.” Gemma breathes out, almost relieved.

Y/n’s shocked when she hears Gemma say her name. She normally says it with such disgust, like it was poison to her. But something about the way she said it now, and the way she looks at her as she does so, that genuinely makes her believe everything will be okay.

“G-Gemma, I just want to um, want to say that-“

“I know” Gemma interrupts, “I know what you’re gonna say, but you don’t have to say it. I treated you like utter scum, Y/n, and you never deserved that. I know you’re not having Harry pay for your schooling anymore, and that just makes me feel so bad. You work hard, Y/n, you really do. You work harder than anybody I’ve known, and I just jumped to conclusions.”

“Gemma, I-”

“Let me finish” Gemma states, “I was protective of my brother because all his past girlfriends were only with him for his money. I never did anything about it, you know? I just watched it all happen, and when I heard that he was dating someone low income, I just-I just felt like I had to do something. Which sounds so stupid because you love him so much. You cared so much about him and his family that you broke your own heart just so that he didn’t have to choose between you and his family. You have done so much for my brother, and I never saw that, and I’m so sorry, Y/n. I’m so, so sorry.”

Y/n nods, a small smile on her face as she lets out a breath of relief.

“It’s okay” she smiles, “I understand.”

Gemma smiles, looking down at the ground before opening the door wider.

“Harry’s um, Harry’s upstairs. You can go in.”

Y/n smiles, muttering a small “thank you” before making her way up the steps.

“Harry?” she calls when she reaches the bedroom door.

She sees him standing in the same place, stiff, tears continuously rolling down his cheeks. He isn’t how she remembered. There is no glow to him, no life left inside of him. There is no bit of the Harry she knew inside this man, instead, all she sees is a broken man, with his soul completely taken out of him.

His eyes look up at her, and he swears his knees almost give out on him the second he sees her in their bedroom.

“Y-Y/n?” He whispers.

“Hey” she says softly, slowly walking towards him, making sure to not step on any of the mess on the floor. “I wanted to talk.”

She moves to sit onto the bed, but Harry is quick to grab onto her arm before she can,

“Don’t-don’t sit there,” he pleas softly, shaking his head, “I just-I just had a woman on there, but we didn’t do anything besides kiss and I know that doesn’t make a difference, and I am so, so sorry, Y/n, but I was drunk and I was trying to help me recover from all of this but it wasn’t working, and I am so sorry but can’t see you sit there right now.”

Y/n lets a few tears fall at his confession, but she can’t blame him for it. It hurts her, it hurts her tremendously to know he was with another girl before she came here. But what else did she expect? When she was gone, she wanted him to move on and find somebody else. She was the one who broke things off, she wanted him to find someone worthy for his family’s acceptance. She just couldn’t blame him, no matter how much it hurt.

“It’s okay, Harry” she whispers, placing her hand softly against his cheek, “I understand, it’s okay.”

He lets out a shaky breath, nodding his head softly, one of his hands reaching up to hold hers.

“I’m sorry I didn’t fight for us,” Y/n cries, “I just walked away and I never gave us a chance. You are the love of my life and I didn’t even fight for you. I did it because I love you, and I couldn’t be the one to stand in between your relationship with Gemma. She’s your sister, and no matter how much I love you, I can’t be selfish with you. I had to let you go so that you can have your family.”

“Oh, baby” Harry sobs, pulling her against his body.

His forehead presses against hers, his arms wrapped securely around her waist. They’re both crying, breaking down for the amount of time they’ve spent apart.

“I know, baby, I know. I just can’t live without you. You’re my everything, you know that? My money, my image, my life means nothing without you. I would give it all up for you.”

Y/n nods, sobbing at his words. She lifts his head from hers, her thumb wiping away his tears before pressing her lips to his. They kiss hungrily, starving from their lack of one another. Every bit of their bodies are like magnets, drawn to each other the closer they get.

“Marry me” Harry mutters between kisses, “now.”

His lips fall back to hers, his hands reaching to grab hers.

“I’ve got the ring” he pants between kisses, “marry me.”

Y/n giggles, Harry’s lips moving down to her neck, sucking on the skin.

“I think she says yes, Harry” Gemma laughs.

Y/n giggles again, reaching to detach Harry’s lips from her neck.

“I think so, too.”

Animal Crossing: Welcome Amiibo Notes

Hi everyone! I’m going to post my notes on what I figure out/find out for the new Animal Crossing New Leaf Welcome Amiibo update that went live this morning!

Stuff I know so far:

  • Secret Store Room: You need to talk to Tom Nook and take out yet another loan for this upgrade. It’s about 158k bells. It will be added the next day to your home.
  • In order to connect your Happy Home Designer data, save game after you first enter upon updating it, exit, and it should show up in the start screen menu. Isabelle will help you out with this. Click to connect data and it will ask if you have download or retail (physical copy). Lottie shows up explains treats. I believe this means you can now use the new furniture that they made for Happy Home Designer.
  • Still can’t find Wisp’s magic lamp FOUND WISP! Walk around your town and he will call out to you! Then you take him home!
  • Check your TPC card (your little in game ID card) and there are now daily tasks to earn meow tickets. Note– once you complete the task it will not do a happy little victory dance or anything. The ticket machine will flash at town hall and then you can use it to get your tickets. 
  • Amiibo Camera is also in the start screen menu.
  • I time traveled ahead a day. The Secret Storage now shows up once you enter the house you live in. It’s a sliding door icon on touch screen.
  • Secret Storage consists of 4 tabs (playing card suits) with 9 trays in each. Yay for hoarding all that junk in game!

I’m destined to forever be a pauper.

Since I graduated college 4 years ago, I’ve only been able to make 5 payments on my student loans. And those payments were only a couple hundred dollars (if that) because that’s all I could afford at that time. And those were times when I was doing alright financially.

To add to this, if I put every cent I have right now toward my student loans, it would barely cover 13% of the total loan. There’s a reason I’m not doing well physically, mentally, and financially.

So keep this in mind when you’re looking into colleges and thinking about taking out loans. A lot of people don’t talk about how rough it can be. And with the resources available online these days, there are a lot cheaper options. Think through all your options before you make a final decision!

ELI5: What exactly did John Oliver do in the latest episode of Last Week Tonight by forgiving $15 million in medical debt?

Whenever you take out a loan or get a service that you don’t pay for in advance, you owe someone money. If you don’t pay, they chase you down looking to get their money. For many of these people who are owed money, they want to spend their time performing services for people, not chasing down delinquent payers. So for a fraction of the total price of the debt, they sell the right to collect the money to some third party. That way they get some of their money back (more than they would without a bunch more effort chasing down the people who haven’t been paying).

So now the third party who specializes in chasing these people down will try to find the people who haven’t paid and get them to pay. What John Oliver did was buy the right to collect these debts, just like these third parties do, but then forgive the debts- tell the people who owe money that they don’t have to pay him back.

Explain Like I`m Five: good questions, best answers.

Go to school, take extracurriculars. Go to college, get decent grades. Get an office job. It pays alright. It’s fine. Try dating. It’s fine. Spend weekends watching tv or finishing your workload. It’s fine. It’s fine. It’s fine. It's— “Fuck it,” Bokuto and Kuroo decide one day. “Fuck it all”. They fish around. They start saving up. They find a big old house in the north country, dilapidated and cheap, on a drive to nowhere, and save up. Save up.

They quit their jobs and leave the city. They take out a loan and start fixing the house up. They’ll turn it into a bed & breakfast, they think. They get to know the locals. About a mile down the road lives a farmer, a youngish man named Ushijima. He knows some people and recommends them. They help with the plumbing. And the wiring. And the carpentry. And everything that this great lumbering beast of a house needs. Bokuto and Kuroo camp in the living room while the rest of the house is made habitable, using an actual tent against any leaks, and use a portable camping stove for the first few days before the gas and oven are working. “This is crazy,” they think laughingly, as they grill hot dogs and marshmallows over their dinky little stove, mocking themselves and this ridiculous idea of theirs.

They meet a guy in town named Terushima. He’s from the city too, like them (and his style of fashion certainly shows it, with his bleached hair, undercut, and tongue piercing), but he’s lived out here in the boondocks for the past five years. He teaches snowboarding and skiing to tourists at a lodge, up in the nearby, looming mountains, in the wintertime, having taken a lifelong passion and made a job out of it. He’s a little uncouth, but easy-going and has a good sense of humor, and they become quick friends. They tell him they’re opening a bed and breakfast. He laughs; he says he wouldn’t have pegged them for the type, they reply they didn’t either. He’s intrigued, and seems to nearly whoop with excitement when they invite him to come around once they’re open, and thanks them with vigor.

They post flyers around town and take an ad out in the paper to recruit employees. They chat up the local librarians hoping to get to know the town better, as well as maybe get the word out if it wouldn’t be too much trouble? The librarians tell them soliciting is frowned upon but they do have some brochure maps for the town if they’re interested, and then ask them to move out of the way for the people behind them in line. They don’t expect much, but when they’re in again a week later, one librarian, a calm, authoritative yet kindly woman in her fifties, tells them they have a potential candidate if they’d like to meet with her? They agree, and she leaves them and comes back a minute later with a small young woman who nervously, timidly introduces herself as Yachi Hitoka. She volunteers at the library after school but would like to try working as a maid, or a server, or whatever they need, and they tell her with a smile they’ll keep her in mind. The librarian tells them knowingly before they leave, after Yachi has gone back to work, that despite her timidity she’s a hard worker, and very good at what she does, and they’d honestly be lucky to have her as an employee. “We understand,” they say politely, and thank her.

They don’t have enough money to fix up the house, they realize, or at least not all of it. They make the painful decision to make sure everything needed is done for structural integrity, and then to leave several of the rooms untouched cosmetically. They’ll only have a handful of rooms for guests, but with hope and luck they’ll have the rest of the house fixed up with revenue within a year or two. On the bright side, the limit for capacity prevents them from taking on more customers than they might be able to handle; it’ll almost be like a trial period for them, a training run, and they’ll get sorely-needed practice in.

They hire Yachi. They open in time, and they get customers, though not many. Bokuto takes a day job at a restaurant to help pay the bills, and Kuroo translates some English literature into Japanese and vice versa for hire in his nights. Bokuto, the better cook, should be the one cooking for the guests, but he’s the only one who’d been able to find a job among the limited options the town holds for them, so he helps Kuroo improve his own culinary ability in the mornings and evenings before and after his shifts. “God bless his endless energy,” Kuroo thinks, his heart brimming with love as the other explains the finer points of a more complicated recipe.

Their first winter in the town they head up, at Terushima’s invitation, to the lodge he works at, and get to see him in action. He’s wearing a sleek winter sport suit that looks expensive as hell, and he swaggers a little as he moves around, until they get his attention, and then he comes bounding up to them, almost a bit like an excited dog, with a whoop and a holler. He shows them around the lodge and buys them lunch on his break, and then insists to try teaching them how to snowboard, or ski, their choice. Bokuto chooses snowboarding, Kuroo skiing (Terushima seems put out at that, and Kuroo supposes with amusement he chose wrongly), and Terushima does his best to teach them the basics. His efforts fruitless after one hour, he goes back to teach his afternoon class, and they decide to loiter and watch him teach. He’s calmer than they expected from a rebel punk, and more authoritative, and he’s surprisingly good with the children in the group.

They put out ads every once in a while, and they slowly build up local knowledge of their existence. They work hard, and it’s slow going, but eventually they get more customers. They finally manage to fix up the last few rooms, and their capacity expands. Yachi is a hardworking little champion, and in the evenings, on the days she can stay late, Kuroo helps tutor her in preparation for her entrance exams (she’s brilliant, clever, and innovative, and Kuroo laughs at the idea of her getting anything less than a scholarship to even a good school, but her mother is overbearing and Hitoka, sweet, and likely anxious even by nature, is riddled with insecurity, so Kuroo is happy to help assuage her fears any way he can). Bokuto sometimes sits in while they study and watches, leaning in, and his frequent gasps and exclamations of incredulity and praise earn laughs and blushes from her, and snickers, eye-rolls, and rebuttals of “Shut up, go do something useful” from Kuroo as he shoves him away by the face.

They’re studying one night when Yachi thanks Kuroo again for his help.
“What’s this?” he asks, gasping in an exaggerated manner. “I told you to stop thanking me.” The first thirty times were more than enough, and he’s told her so.
“I know,” she says, “It’s just that—”
“What?” he asks, goading.
She pauses, working up her courage. “I think you’re the smartest person I’ve ever met,” Yachi says.
“Well,” he replies, regrowing his grin once his shock’s worn off, “that’s flattering, because you are definitely the smartest person I’ve ever met.” He manages to reply with his usual lazy smirk and drawl, but, unused to being complimented so straightforwardly,  he can’t quite help the blush spreading slightly across his cheeks.
Yachi, for her part, combusts and stammers out Thank Yous and Oh Noes with a crimson face, too shocked to notice how touched her tutor is. Kuroo waits for her to calm down, and then they continue as if nothing happened.

All the while, Kuroo and Bokuto are forced to examine their feelings, which slowly, imperceptibly, have been changing over time. “When did this start?” They ask themselves, ask each other, but neither has the answer; maybe when they hatched this scheme, probably long beforehand. Maybe in high school, even, when they were young and things were simple enough to categorize as deep friendship. Maybe there wasn’t a single point where they crossed the line; there couldn’t have been, they’re sure, with how gradual it all happened. How natural it feels, they realize. They start having a talk one quiet night, but neither can finish it, and words die on their lips as they go back to watching tv. It takes a few days to find the courage to finish.

It’s three years (well, three years and five and a half months, but who’s counting) after it first opened that all the invited guests gather on the house’s front lawn. Officially it’s an engagement-cum-life pledge celebration, and legalized gay marriage is still years away for Japan, but they all know what it’s supposed to be. Yachi’s there, along with the greying librarian her mentor; Terushima is there, filming the reception with a very expensive-looking video camera and a wide, ecstatic grin (when he’s not looking impish and smug, claiming he saw them coming years beforehand); Ushijima too, who, earthen and straightforward but believing in a take-life-as-it-comes philosophy, had become good friends with them and had never bat an eye (surprising them) when they themselves had become something more; along with the many other friends they’ve made in the town, including even a few former guests.

I’m considering closing my Etsy store. I opened it to help pay for textbooks and the loans I had to take out to afford college. In the two years it’s been open I have had 30 sales, 25 of which were made in a two week period last August.

I am spending more money on supplies and listings then I am making since I am not getting any orders.

Help

Hey guys so I hate asking but I really need some help. I am struggling, I’m a college student in Kansas. I’m behind on rant which is $310 a month, but I also had to buy books and pay for my dogs food and vet. I can’t take out a loan because I’m technically considered an international student (from Brazil). I’m have a job lined up but I can only start mid February. I’ll get kicked out if I don’t pay it, I barely have any money… Please I would appreciate any help I could get… even $10 from someone, I really need it… it’s urgent. Thanks… btw my venmo is @Ttatiana if you need my snap message me please. Thank you so much.

I Give Up - part 15 (A Baekhyun Series)

MATURE CONTENT 18+ ONLY

Genre: Smut / Fluff / Angst / Romance

Characters: Baekhyun X You

A/N: hiatus? Postponed for a moment. Read this guys.

I Give Up [M]- part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5 , part 6 , part 7 , part 8 , part 9 , part 10 , part 11 , part 12, part 13, part 14, part 15, part 16, part 17, part 18, part 19, part 20, part 21, part 22, part 23, part 24, part 25


A few weeks passed. You started your next semester of college as you normally did. Meeting new professors, getting class syllabuses, buying low cost digital versions of expensive text books online to save money, taking out student loans, doing the math and figuring out that you would have to work as a doctor for 10 solid years while aggressively paying off the debt to be free of it completely. You grumbled to yourself as you rolled homemade kimbap with your mom that morning.

Keep reading

We often talk like corporations are being stupid and crazy when they post entry-level positions that ask for a ridiculous amount of experience, but there’s nothing stupid about it. It’s entirely calculated.

Y’see, they’ve set things up so that the only way to get the required experience for entry-level positions is through internship programs. At the same time, they’ve systematically eliminated paid internship in favour of unpaid internship. Yeah, unpaid internships are totally a thing - you’re literally working for free in order to build up “relevant experience” to apply for positions that actually pay you.

If that was all there was to it - i.e., scamming free labour out of young college graduates - it would be bad enough, but it goes further. Consider: what sort of college graduate can afford to spend a year or two working for free? Well, naturally it would have to be someone who didn’t have to take out any loans; unemployment is grounds for deferral of student loan repayments, but an unpaid internship counts as being employed, thus disqualifying you for a deferred repayment schedule, even though you’re not getting paid.

Combined with skyrocketing tuition fees that render it virtually impossible to pay for college with a part-time job, the upshot is that there’s a whole class of jobs that are effectively available only to those with financially well-off parents: they’re the only ones who can afford to take on the unpaid internships that are required to rack up the necessary “relevant experience” to apply for those jobs in the first place.

So really, it’s not just about free labour: the unpaid internship racket also serves to filter employment by economic class, ensuring that only the children of the wealthy are able to apply for jobs that permit actual career advancement. You thus have the appearance of openness in a job market that is, in reality, rotten with cronyism. And it works perfectly - it’s really a brilliant arrangement, if you’re willing to look past the fact that it’s pure evil.

(This is also the scam behind those job application forms that ask for a long list of references in good standing, but specifically exclude relatives, teachers, past employers, and just about anybody else you’re likely to know who’d qualify as “in good standing”; what they’re really saying is “put down the names of your rich Dad’s golf buddies”.)

Meth use is like taking out a huge loan on future happiness and pleasure, with incredibly high interest rates and no grace period.

Meth does not forgive those who sell out. It will extract your very soul, then invite you back .

Meth doesn’t kill pain, it postpones it, then multiplies it.

Meth doesn’t kill depression, it postpones it, then multiplies it.