#car payment calculator

[chowtrolls]

FIXED THE CLUNK IN MY CAAAARRR AND IT DIDNT COST ME A DIIIMMMEEE IT WAS LITERALLY A LOOSE BOLTTTTTTT 🎉🎉🎉🎉🎉

[flavia8]

Applying for a loan to buy a car, hopefully it's fine. I should be able to Qualify rather easily for a 19,000 dollar loan. And I can swing 500 dollar per month payment MAX but if I've calculated it correctly the monthly payment should be 350, then plus insurance at like 150, I should be good! As I earn like 3000 a month.

The car is a 2015 Bright Yellow Jeep Wrangler that my mom's friend is selling! I hope I can get it :)

[theres-whump-in-that-nebula]

I wonder if I can save money on food when moving out by just getting a 30 day supply of “just add water” MREs and cutting the portions in half? The only other food items I’d get would be flour and rice (in bulk), and maybe eggs, so I could pay only around 200 dollars in food for a supply of two months or potentially longer. It would work wonders for my executive dysfunction, not having to cook much. Plus, I could save money on gas by not having to drive to the store very often. I could also grow food indoors.

[moderncalculators]

Empowering Financial Decisions with Modern Calculators: Your Key to Financial Success

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[investingdrone]

Understanding New Loan Disclaimers In The United States 2024

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[carevoauto]

Where Do I Find Easy-to-Access Car Loan Payment Calculator in Canada?

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[creditspeak]

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[toastbutteregg]

if you make $50,000/year, after tax will be $36,000 (estimate)

$36,000/12 months = $3,000 to spend and save monthly

being super conservative with the spending and calculation (state of GA):

$1,500 (rent/mortgage) + $300 (utilities/internet/phone bill) + $300 (grocery) + $150 (gas) + $450 (car + insurance payment) = $2,700 spent with $300 left

$300 left for:

medical bills (copay/coinsurance) that you might need to pay for

other monthly bills that i have not listed

car maintenance (oil change etc) or home repairs

buying presents for family or yourself

savings

investing in something that hopefully will give you a good return

there is really nothing left

[deceptive-daydreams]

Ch. 1 | Ch. 2 | Ch. 3 | Ch. 4 | Ch. 5 | Ch. 6 | Ch. 7 | Ch. 8 | Ch. 9 | Ch. 10 | Ch. 11 | Ch. 12 | Ch. 13 | Ch. 14 |

Smoke Signals

Chapter One - Damn Mailbox

W/C: 5K

Eddie x Fem reader - Grumpy!Bartender!Eddie x Shy!Reader

Relocating to the small town of Knife’s Edge in hopes of leaving your old life behind and starting brand new solves all of your problems, right? Wrong. It only creates more and one of them may live right next door. Side effects may include blaring music at 3AM, a scowling neighbor, and one too many shots of tequila on several occasions. (That The Bourbon will not be comping.)

A/N: I'm super excited to start this lil series, I've had this idea for a little while and I can never resist writing total opposites, it's just so fun to explore their dynamic when they want to reject each other so bad. Also a lot of this fic is inspired by Smoke Signals by Phoebe Bridgers (hence the name). As always I would love your feedback and any comments y’all have 🙂 OH and finally...the hugest largest biggest thank you to @uglypastels for beta reading and proof reading and all that good stuff, it was SO appreciated and really helped smooth things out ILY Z YOU'RE SO GOOD AT WHAT YOU DO 💜

Masterlist

Next

Morning dew was like an old friend, someone you hadn’t paid attention to since childhood but felt so familiar with, so…safe.  Maybe it was a little too ridiculous to find security in a few dew drops but arriving in a new town with a population of less than five hundred would have that effect.  Twists and turns of windy roads unknown, trees larger than any house, and barely any infrastructure would all frazzle anyone not accustomed to its elements.  Normally you wouldn’t get car sick but these roads were a beast you’d never encountered before in your life, stomach threatening to send back your lunch of tuna on white bread and a bag of Doritos.  You refused to let bile even trace your tongue so with just enough self control, you swallowed any sickness down and pushed forward.  Now you were hunched over in the driver’s seat, the door open as you sucked in the fresh mountain air, perfect lengthy blades of grass grazing the bottom of the door.  Just before you, up the driveway made up of damp dirt, was home.  A home you were a stranger to at the moment but hoped to at least become acquaintances with.  Lower expectations created less disappointment.  If you dive in head first, you can only guarantee yourself vulnerability and pain, slow and steady was the only pace.

It’s not permanent; you are just figuring things out.

It’s what you kept preaching to yourself during the altitude change, where flatter land transformed into large mountains, the tallest peaks coated in white.  Where your ears popped and your brain felt pressure.  And then shortly after, you were submerged deep into the forests, far from home, where you knew there was no going back for quite some time.  It was a trial run although it didn’t feel that way when the moving truck packed with your life pulled up just minutes after you, delivering every piece of your life to some cabin in a secluded town that was nearly invisible on any map.  Temporary was starting to feel foreign when everything felt more set in stone.

You’d think a town called ‘Knife’s Edge’ would steer you away and maybe that was the intent when it was first named; to ward off newcomers who had no business being out in the woods.  But it only intrigued you.  From what you could find out in a few tourism magazines, Knife’s Edge was not somewhere you went for a getaway, not according to the locals who were a tight knit community where everyone knew everyone.  The economy relied on the small businesses down in The Village, on Main Street which according to your calculations was about five miles down the road and around the lake then up.  That was the extent of knowledge you’d had on your new home and yes, maybe you should have gathered more information before daring to even place a down payment on some random cabin in the woods but when a new start calls, you either answer the phone or stare at it until nothing happens.  The cabin was either yours if you paid the down payment or it would’ve been torn down and sold to the neighbor for more land which would’ve sent you on your way again, on a wild goose chase for a new place that you could fit into.  Not that you were too sure that you’d even fit in here.  But it seemed too obvious that this was where you were meant to be when the realtor advised that it was yours at a low down payment, a steal.  So you’d try to make it work.

The moving truck’s door startled you, slamming against the top as two men got to work, unloading all your belongings.  You figured this was your cue to exit your beat-up sedan to unlock the front door–wide-paneled and made of a beautiful dark oak.  The crunch of pebbles and dirt alerted the movers to your presence where you let them know you were going to open up so they could begin their tedious process, one of them grumbling something incoherent in response.  As you approached even closer, there were knicks and dents decorating the surface of the door but it seemed to add to the essence.  The wooden steps creaked underneath your weight and upon glancing around the porch, you found two well built rocking chairs that the previous owner must have left behind.  Other than that, there were pine needles and other debris from the surrounding nature caked in the corners, some scattered along the rest of the floor that would need to be swept up but it wasn’t an urgent task in comparison to actually setting up your bed and other necessities.

The lock was stubborn as you twisted the key but with one more persistent shove and turn, it clicked and you were able to push your way in, the hinges painfully squeaking as you made a mental note to pick up some WD40.  The air inside was stale, smelling of dust and maybe a half hearted spritz of air freshener.  Or maybe it was drenched in air freshener but it did little to nothing to cover up the smell of an old abandoned cabin; you weren’t sure.  It was a modest size, the kitchen off to the right, tucked into the corner with a small island in the center.  The living room was the first room you walked into from the front, the floorplan more open than you’d expected.  A little to the left was a narrow hallway with shutter doors lining both sides, you assumed one side had to be the laundry.  The door at the end had to be the bedroom and the door just before you embark into the hall had to be the bathroom but you had no time to explore right now.

Morning light trickled in through the kitchen window just above the stove, creating a beautiful hue against the wood paneling of the walls which you only noticed as you came back in, setting a box that was labeled ‘kitchen’ on the counter before rushing back out to retrieve more of your belongings.  It was too early to be doing such strenuous work but that's what you get for securing a slot with the moving company first thing in the morning.  In hindsight, you didn’t realize you were signing yourself up to meet said moving truck at 6:00 AM but in your defense, you’d never done this before. 

By 7:00 AM the truck was fully unloaded and on its way out and with it went the grumpy movers, more than likely unsatisfied with the fact that they’d have to trek back down the mountain.  You graciously offered them an extra twenty bucks which they gladly took but still appeared crabby nonetheless.  Now for the part you had been dreading the most: unpacking each box and putting everything in its respective place.  But first, you wanted to take it all in.  You were right; the laundry was on the left side of the hall behind the shutter door and on the other side was a closet.  The bedroom was settled right where you had guessed, at the end of the hall and rather than being empty, it now held your bed and mattress, sheets still yet to be found among the boxes labeled ‘bedroom’ in thick sharpie.  The wallpaper was something you could do without but maybe you’d find time to peel it off later and replace it with something more to your taste.  Currently the bedroom walls were lined with floral designs and pale blue stripes and if you could be honest, the design was a bit too busy for your liking.  But it was a roof over your head for a good price so complaining was out of the equation.

At the opposite end of the hall, just off the living room was the bathroom, sporting a less off putting wallpaper of faded yellow and white vertical stripes.  You first ensured your hygiene essentials were in place, toothbrush and toothpaste in a glass on the sink, towels on the rack, and soaps set up in the shower including shampoo, conditioner, and bar of Dove.  Having these accessible was a priority, cleanliness being one of the most important factors of your daily routine.  

Clothes were next and you’d forgotten a box in your trunk of your most worn items of clothing that you could pick through until you were fully settled.  Lazily carrying yourself back to the driveway where your maroon sedan sat on top of the copper-toned dirt, you do a double take when you realize your mailbox was taken out, wood splintering out of the ground as the poor box lays among the grass at the edge of the street.  From what you could remember, it was fully intact when you first drove up so you’re forced to conclude that the movers you’d tipped generously must have run it over and not given it a second thought.

The half of the mailbox that rested on the ground was a lot heavier than it looked and you would’ve thought it was made of cement just by the weight.  You felt pathetic dragging it up the driveway, creating a prominent line in the dirt along the way.  A brief break in getting the damn thing up to your porch has you about half way up the driveway, glancing around at your surroundings, only to finally take into account that you had a neighbor relatively close by, a cabin similar to yours only a few hundred yards away except it was a darker wood and a red pickup sat idle in front of it.

You braced yourself, catching your breath to continue hauling the mailbox back until you can figure out how to repair it when your eyes catch on figure, a man making his way down the steps of the cabin you’d just been analyzing.  And you’re quick to shy away until you realize he’d already been looking at you, a cocky grin on his face as he slowly, almost tauntingly stepped off his porch.  The way he walked closer reminded you of a lion declaring its territory, especially with the mane of curls he had, shaggy and brunette.  He wasn’t close enough to allow you to examine any further; however, you caught the click of his tongue before he spoke.

“Gonna get splinters draggin’ wood around like that.”

It’s all he says, a toothpick between his teeth before he turns on his heel, combat boot digging into the soil and it’s only then that you realize he wasn’t offering assistance, he was simply picking up the hose connected to his spigot to rinse off his windshield which now that he’d drawn attention to it, was filthy with mud and leaves.  He wore a red and black flannel which reminded you of a lumberjack but this man just didn’t fit that description based on your short interaction with him.  Or rather his interaction with you.  Your first indication was that he had no facial hair; he was clean-shaven.  And his tight jeans that had black rips at the knees didn’t seem very suitable for a job that required a larger range of motion.

Without any further acknowledgement of your existence, he hopped in his truck and sped off around the bend without a care in the world.  He was a resident douchebag and you’d never even spoken a word to him.  You quickly realized you were still stood in the middle of the driveway with half a mailbox, grunting in protest as you lugged it the rest of the way up to the porch, leaning it against the railing for future contemplation on how to repair it or if you’d have to fork up money for a brand new one.  That was a problem for future you and though future you would be pissed at past you for putting the responsibility on her, you had other things to sort out such as unpacking the rest of the kitchen so you’d be able to actually use it to feed yourself.  And then of course you’d have to make your way into town a ways down the road to actually get groceries because not a crumb of anything edible was packed.  Aside from a bag of Chex Mix that sat in the passenger seat of your car that you’d picked up at a gas station.

–

Going overboard was an understatement when it came to how much you’d actually gotten done.  By 12:00 PM you almost had each room unpacked and put away, moving boxes discarded next to the front door to be thrown out later.  Your plan was to finish off the kitchen and then go into town.  Instead you finished the kitchen and moved from room to room with more motivation than you’d ever experienced in your life.  Maybe it was the adrenaline of living alone, no one else could tell you what to do or where to put things.  It was all up to you and maybe you were a little drunk off that power.  Regardless, you were now worn out and that energy didn’t last very long.  At least you had a freshly made bed for when you came back, that’s what you would reward yourself with. 

If you go grocery shopping then you can come back and nap.

There were still various projects to be done, items to be organized, and objects without a home but for the most part, you could sleep peacefully with the work you’d done today.  The floors were yet to be cleaned and the fridge still needed a good scrub down but that could wait until tonight after you properly refueled.  

Humming to some song you’d heard on the radio earlier, you make your way out the door, patting your pockets for your keys and wallet, both of which you had before locking up and heading for the car.  You rolled your eyes passing the mutilated mailbox, settling into the driver’s seat with an ache in your back from the grueling labor in the early hours of the morning.  Shifting into drive and then rapidly back to park, you remember that these roads are foreign to you and that you could easily get lost and possibly become a bear’s lunch with your luck.  With a tug, the glove box opens and reveals the map you had set in it before embarking on our journey.  The map that was mailed to you of the town didn’t seem very complicated.  But if you happened to make a wrong turn it could land you amongst some rocky cliffs which you thought better to stay away from.  So you carefully examined the route to town, what the people here seemed to call The Village Square.  You took the liberty of drawing your house on the map, a cute little doodle in blue gel pen and then proceeding to draw the rest of the route in the same blue so you’d always have it.

This was it.  A fresh start where no one knew your name.  This would be good for you.  At least that's what you kept trying to convince yourself.  

Goodbye someone else’s daughter and hello new self-made woman.

–

You weren’t lost.  You were just…exploring.

Okay, you were a little lost but the signs for The Village Square kept passing you by and yet you found yourself also passing the same exact pine trees–and you knew they were the same pine trees because every time you saw them you thought ‘hey that kinda looks like a dog’.  At some point it started to feel as if you were spawning in and out of some dimension until you finally turned into a lot directly behind one of the signs, sick of this game of hide and seek.  There were no signs for parking which is why you’d passed by so many times in the first place, and now it seemed like you were behind a restaurant of some kind.  This couldn’t be where everyone parked, right?  Anxiety was pooling in your stomach and before you could sike yourself out, you ultimately decided to park and walk from here.  You would only be a few minutes and hopefully you’d be able to muster up the courage to ask someone where to park from now on, even if it did make you seem like an idiot.

Leaves crunched under your sneakers, an obvious indication of the Fall season trickling one leaf at a time.  As if you were a wary animal, you cautiously walked around the building, finding that it was someplace called The Bourbon; the letters written out in neon red lights that weren’t yet illuminated, the open sign in the window dull signifying they were closed.  You let your eyes roam up and down the street, small businesses lined up all the way through and a few patrons, clearly with an agenda making their way along the sidewalks.  It was a cute place, nestled in a little valley.  Instead of plain old cement the sidewalks were cobblestone and overall it seemed to be a pedestrian oriented community with several cross walks and barely any traffic.  

From here you had no idea how to get to Marvin’s Grocery, which seemed to be one of the only produce stores around according to your map.  The others were a little more out of the way, your house conveniently only around five miles away from The Village Square.  The shops you passed as you attempted to gain a sense of direction were exquisite.  Mom-and-pop shops that either smelled of delicious baked goods or hunger-inducing aromas that filled your nostrils with savory goodness.  The smell would haunt you in the best way for days to come.  A candle shop piqued your interest, as well as a flower shop that bloomed so beautifully among the muted tones of the brick buildings around it.

Everything was so unlike what you were used to, back home things were more commercialized, built for quantity not quality.  Here it seemed to be the polar opposite which you could appreciate.  Corporations were the root of all evil and you had yet to see one single corporation among the several businesses you passed so far.  People seemed friendly but also confused by your presence, offering you a meaningful wave accompanied by a puzzled expression written on every face you encountered.  You were a stranger and it was becoming more apparent the deeper you found yourself in the square.  Some people whispered and you happened to snag onto a few words, mostly grasping ‘is she new?’.  In return, you graced them with a polite smile.  It wasn’t like you to initiate small talk or approach new friendships.  If they happened, they happened per the other party’s account, not yours, never one to try and stand out in the crowd only making this infinitely more uncomfortable for you, which was no one’s fault other than your own insecurity.

Eventually you were able to come face to face with the giant ‘Marvin’s Grocery’ sign which looked to be handpainted in big white letters outlined in black with a few cartoony carrots, a tomato, and a head of lettuce.  Wandering around for an extra ten minutes and refusing to ask for help certainly wasn’t ideal but it did familiarize you with the shops you would soon be buying from on the regular.  And it did give you a soft introduction to the small population of Knife’s Edge which despite the name, the people seemed lovely enough.

The store wasn’t the slightest bit crowded and it wasn’t very large either.  A mother and her two kids skimmed one of the aisles while an older man pondered over the produce, apples specifically.  Grabbing a cart, you begin gathering the items you had sorted out on a list in your head.  First bananas, grapes, and blueberries, you didn’t want to bother with too much produce as it went bad fast and you were only one person so those would do for now.  Then you moved on to pantry essentials, canned goods that you could stock up on and always have on hand.  Green beans, corn, peas, baked beans, even soups such as tomato, cream of mushroom, and the standard chicken noodle.

You’d built up a cart full in no time, and by then,  no one else was around so you noted that this time would be perfect to get your shopping done in the future so as to avoid as many people as possible.  The cashier was a woman, probably in her early sixties who seemed not all that intimidating which you were grateful for.  She smiles warmly and you appreciate the sentiment, grinning back at her as you place each item at the register. 

“You’re new.  But I bet you’ve already had an earful of that, haven’t you?”  She lightly teases.

You laugh softly, avoiding eye contact while still trying to remain well mannered, taking notice in small glances that the woman’s name tag reads Donnie in bold red letters as well as the ‘help wanted’ sign perched up against the window.  She seems friendly, a little rough around the edges though in the sense that she had several tattoos that disappeared into the rolled up sleeve of her blue crewneck sweater as well as a fire in her icy blue eyes.  You could already guess that she was quite the character.

“Don’t let them scare you off.”  Donnie carefully bags the eggs with a few more light items, her confidence radiating, as if she doesn’t even need to try, as if it just comes to her so naturally.  Something you could only wish for every once in a blue moon.  “We don’t get many newbies.  They’ll get it outta their system.”  Her voice is a tad scratchy but smooth otherwise, bringing a strange sense of comfort.

“Thank you.”  A mouse may as well have been louder than you but you tried and that’s what counts, right?  New people were not your thing but they would have to become your thing, moving to a place where no one knew you existed and all.  Or maybe you could fly under the radar?  It couldn’t hurt to become the mysterious outsider that spoke to no one although it wasn’t a very realistic ambition.

This was fucked.  You thought to yourself in the solitude of your brain.  Of course the second thoughts were coming now and not before you bought the damn property that tied you to this place.  Initially, the idea was a temporary situation far from home but the deeper you delved into this town, the more permanent it started to feel.  Not just anyone up and moved here and that was clear by the reaction you pulled from several onlookers.  And yet you moved here, bought that damn cabin with the money left to you from your father’s estate, and ultimately, left everything you knew in a manic state.  A mid life crisis in your early twenties.  

“Miss, your change.”  The woman broke through your thoughts and you must have shifted into autopilot, not even remembering handing her any money in the first place.

“S-sorry.”  You mutter, collecting the filthy coins in your palm, shoving them into the front pocket of your jeans which you knew would be a pain to dig out later but again, that was an issue for future you.  She hated your guts.

“No prob–”

It was abrupt, your exit but despite your rude departure, she called out “I’m Donnie!” and you never felt like a shittier person.  She was welcoming you to her home and you didn’t even have the decency to introduce yourself.  That’s how it looked at least, on the inside you were panicking and needed to isolate yourself immediately.  

You must have looked like a maniac carrying your groceries in a near sprint toward the direction of your car.  Everyone else seemed to move at such a mellow pace, not a single vein close to popping out of stress whereas you looked like you’d crumble under the slightest inconvenience.  Which you would if you didn’t get to the car fast enough.  A small misstep causing you to trip?  No chance, you wouldn’t show your face again for weeks.  Your groceries spilling all over the pavement because of said possible misstep?  You would consider moving all over again.

Thankfully the majority of the walk back to the little lot behind one of many businesses was blacked out, your heart practically pumping in your ear the whole time.  What you couldn’t black out from was the man-the same man from this morning smoking a cigarette as he stared at your car.  Fear drenched you; you couldn’t gauge his expression with his back to you but you could guess he wasn’t going to be smiling with the way he was lingering, shuffling his boots back and forth in contemplation.

Announcing yourself felt like the most daunting task in the world, humiliation melting into your skin like an uncomfortable burn.  Maybe some higher power heard your pathetic struggle because the crunch of your sneaker on a perfectly placed leaf called his attention to you, his head snapping in your direction instantly.

The urge to just run was strong but you maintained whatever cool was left within you, fingers waving at him weakly.

His expression was blank, unreadable.  He didn’t say a word as you slowly inched your way closer to the vehicle, only eyeing your every movement like a predator protecting his territory, much like he did that same morning.  The closer view of his face showcased his stoic yet soft features, eyes almost puppy dog-like but something glazed over them, a facade of some kind.  Something that overtook the puppy dog nature they were capable of and replaced them with a cruel glare.  The shape of his nose was endearing at least, rounded at the tip and tinted pink from the cold.

“You just park anywhere you want where you’re from?”  He asks, gesturing vaguely with a tip of his cigarette toward the car.  

Your shaky breath has him furrowing his brows at you, seemingly offended.  It’s not in your nature to offend people but you can’t seem to stop doing it, especially today whether you mean to or not.  But you definitely don’t think you mean to.

“N-no, ‘m sorry.”

“Sorry?”  He mocks, scoffing before inhaling a puff of smoke once more.

“I-I uh, I’m leaving.  It won’t happen again.”  You rush out, all the while forcing yourself not to cry.  “I just–I couldn’t find parking–I was driving around and—there was no–I couldn’t–”

“Don’t let it happen again.”  He warns, stern but easing up on his intense demeanor.

“Promise.”  You whisper, a tear betraying you and rolling down your cheek to which you quickly gather your grocery bags in one hand to swat away at your cheek.  It’s too late, he already saw.

No empathy is detected in his stare, not that you feel you deserve any.  It was just an observation.  “Now, get out of my lot.”  It’s a demand, a non-negotiable demand that if you were brave enough to argue, would probably have him towing your shitty little sedan.  

So you nod, blinking back the water works as best you could while tossing your groceries into the passenger seat, him watching the whole time.  With your seatbelt suddenly feeling like the most complicated thing in the world, you expect to look up and meet pure rage but instead your ears perk up at a few knocks on the window.  Rolling it down as fast as possible with the manual handle, the man stands towering over you, cigarette abandoned sometime in between you getting in the car and struggling to remember how a seatbelt works.  Did he have more choice words for you for illegally parking on what he deemed ‘his lot’?  You really didn’t want to stick around to find out but you had no choice.

“Left on Main.  Then right on Cherry.”  His dark eyes hinted at hues of warm honey but they were briskly dismissed by his cold attitude.

“What?”

“Next time.  So you don’t turn into my damn lot again.”  

You still didn’t know what he meant by ‘his lot’ and you didn’t have the backbone to ask.  You did however fully get the message that you were to never park here again and were now aware of which streets to search for to avoid it at all costs.  You’d memorize every detail of it if it meant you could steer clear of the apathetic man before you.  With a nervous nod, you were off, not once looking back just as he did that morning except he had more grit in his actions, you just came off as a scared church mouse.  You never even caught his name and you didn’t mind not knowing it at this rate seeing as he was all bite and bark for no good reason.

This place never felt so far from home.  Nowhere was home.  Your heart was in a sense homeless, lost and longing for the connections that these people had with each other that you couldn’t seem to tap into even if your life depended on it.  In all fairness, it had only been a few hours and you couldn’t gauge your success based on that but it was tugging on your brain like a parasite, eating away at your final optimistic thoughts.  

I don’t belong here.

I don’t fit in.

The drive ‘home’ was flooded with tears and muffled sobs into your now sticky sleeve, coated in snot and if anyone were to pass you along the way you would look psychotic with how your face scrunched up at every exhale, doing your best to keep yourself quiet despite being the only one in the car.  You were always doing your best.  Always to please others.  And it never worked.

~end~

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tags - @gravedigginbbydoll @ohauggieo @spicysix @lunatictardis @ali-r3n @batkin028 @mrsjellymunson @witchwolflea @emma77645

[collapsedsquid]

In its simplest and most elemental form, check kiting is the simple practice of stealing money or valuable goods by paying for them with a check that you know (or ought to know) will be rejected because there aren’t sufficient funds in the bank account to honor it. In this form it is known to the specialists as “paper hanging,” and it’s often a crime of desperation or one carried out with stolen checkbooks rather than a calculated commercial decision—there are obvious disadvantages to a method of stealing that requires you to give the victim your name and address. It is possible to make paper hanging into both a systematic fraud and a lifestyle, as Frank Abagnale did (and wrote about in his autobiography, Catch Me If You Can, later made into a movie starring Leonardo DiCaprio). Abagnale got over the main drawback by adopting a nomadic lifestyle and impersonating an airline pilot, something that also allowed him to travel for free, to date flight attendants during the high period of Pan Am recruitment sexism, and to have a plausible excuse for needing to cash checks all the time and not having a permanent local address. But as a commercial fraud carried out by businesspeople, check kiting is a little bit more sophisticated and takes advantage of a peculiarity of the American banking system. [...] The important technical detail here is that because paper checks are particularly common in America, and because the check-clearing cycle is so long, American banks have—unusually in a global context—historically been very generous when it comes to allowing their business customers to make payments out of “uncleared funds,” that is to say checks that have been deposited into their account but that have not yet been endorsed by the bank that they are drawn on. Effectively, when you deposit a check, you get access to a short-term interest-free loan, lasting for the duration of the check-clearing cycle. This raises the possibility of a form of fraud that is the equivalent of NFL football and pumpkin pie—something that Europeans would no doubt enjoy greatly if they tried it, but that is so deeply embedded into the overall American way of doing things that it doesn’t really travel.

What you do (in the simplest form) is that you open accounts in two banks. Call them Bank A (from which you get a checkbook with pictures of trees in it) and Bank B (which gives you a checkbook full of pictures of sports cars). Pretend for the time being that you put a token hundred bucks into each account. But now you write a check for $500,000 from your “trees” checkbook and deposit it in your Bank B account. That check is going to bounce, for certain. Except… it will only bounce when the check gets presented, and in the meantime, thinking that you have $500,000 in the bank, Bank B will not mind if you write a sports-car check and deposit it in Bank A. If Bank A sees the sports-car check, they will not mind honoring the trees check for the time being, while they are waiting for the sports-car check to clear. If they honor that check, then you can write another check to Bank B, and so on…

Of course, this looks like a bit of a closed system—you can make the checks going back and forth look as big as you like, but if you ever take the money out in cash or spend it on something, the checks will actually bounce and turn you into just another paper hanger. But creating the illusion of having two bank accounts with half a million dollars in each can be profitable in itself because as well as allowing customers to make payments out of uncleared funds, American banks used to be quite generous about paying interest on deposits as soon as they were made. In the heyday of check kiting in the early 1980s when interest rates were in the midteens and bank computer systems in their infancy, you could have earned quite a lot out of the simple kiting scheme described above, unless someone happened to notice. And although even a dull bank clerk might spot a kite based on two banks and checks going back and forth every few days, if you bring more banks into the scheme (“chaining”) and intermingle the kite with the ordinary back-and-forth cash flow of a large operating business, it becomes very difficult to detect.

Interest rates are back baby, guess it is time to bring back kiting

[bitchesgetriches]

Kill Your Debt Faster With the Death by a Thousand Cuts Technique

If you’ve got credit card debt, the interest is calculated on the “average daily balance.” So it’s beneficial to lower that balance as quickly as possible. And you can only lower the balance by making a payment… or payments.

The sooner you send a dollar to that debt, the less interest you’ll end up paying! It’s that simple!

Even if you can only afford the minimum required payment every month, splitting it into two payments helps. That can drastically reduce the average daily balance, and thus, the interest you have to pay. So making half of your monthly payment on the 15th of the month and the other half on the 30th (don’t @ me, February) can effectively save you money on interest. This goes for credit card debt as well as home mortgages and car loans.

Keep reading.

Did we just help you out? Join our Patreon!

[movingout101]

Things you should do while planning to move out

Calculate all your monthly expenses and add them to a google sheet, things to include: rent, food, phone bill, laundry, Misc, Dentist, Takeout, car payments, power and light, and if you have pets add the expenses from that

Start saving! Do the 50: 30:20 rule. -Needs 50%: Food/groceries, bills & utilities, housing & rent, Transportation. -Wants 30: Shopping, dining out, entertainment, travel. -Savings 20: emergency fund, Savings account, retirement fund, investments, debt payment, stocks, crypto

Make a five year plan (find ideas online)

Prepare yourself mentally to live alone

[lostlegendaerie]

Fuck it! US Private Student Loans Guide!

DISCLAIMER: while I have worked in private loans specifically for five+ years, this isn't ‘financial’ advice and is just a heavily summarized guide on how to navigate them. Yes, these loans suck, but complain to your legislators not me. I’m just trying to help you know what you’re doing. Additional info for each section is under the cut!

1) Who are you and who are all the companies constantly running around with my money?

I work in loan SERVICING, which is basically the billing department. If you’ve got a new company asking you for money, it's probably a new servicer and your debt is still owned by the bank. We enforce the terms in the promissory note, the document you sign telling the bank “yeah I'll play by your rules if you give me the money.” If your loan defaults, you’ll get contacted by a third (fourth?) party, but how that works is beyond my wheelhouse. The bank or your servicer should be able to confirm what happens in case of default.

2) What am I looking for in a ‘good’ loan?

Generally, you’re going to want SIMPLE instead of compound interest, a FIXED RATE opposed to a variable one, and you’ll want to go for FULL DEFERMENT while in school and make manual payments when you can. Also ask up front about stuff like if disability forgiveness or co-signer release (getting your parents off it) is offered.

3) This loan sucks! How do I make it better?

Student loans are NOTORIOUSLY hard to get out of, unfortunately. If the interest rate/payment relief options suck, you can try to REFINANCE where you take out a new loan to pay off the old one. This gives you a new promissory note, interest rate, and terms/conditions. If you’re trying to erase the debt entirely, ask for the promissory note (if they can't provide a copy, we have to forgive the debt. I've only seen this happen ONCE.) or try to go through social security disability.

DO NOT USE FREEDOM DEBT RELIEF OR OTHER SERVICES. DO NOT. THEY ARE SCAMS.

More in depth information for each point!

1) Lenders and Servicers

The lender is the person who provides the funds in the debt - the bank who pays the school or the hospital or the home contractor fixing your sink. The servicer is the company that is your point of contact when you need to make payments, ask for payment relief, or otherwise manage the loan that exists. Think of us as the mechanic (we keep the car running) where the bank is the manufacturer (they make the car). Some different servicers are SoFi, Zuntafi, Great Lakes, Nelnet and Firstmark Services; their names will be on the billing statements. Some different banks are Citizens, US Bank, NorthStar; their names will be on the promissory note and the disclosures.

Sometimes banks do sell the debt, however! A couple years ago Wells Fargo sold an enormous chunk of their loans off somewhere (an investment group, maybe?) but! The promissory note will still be the EXACT same if your debt gets sold. You’ll only get a new promissory note if you refinance the loan yourself.

2a) Interest Accrual and Rates

Interest is how banks profit off the loans they give out and/or ‘ensure they don't end up with a loss if the loan defaults’. (It's profit.) Most, but not all, loans calculate interest with the simple daily interest formula, shown below:

[(Current loan balance) x (interest rate)] divided by 365

If your loan’s balance is $10,000 and your interest rate is 6% you’ll be charged $1.64 each day. SIMPLE INTEREST means that this interest just kind of floats around on the account until a payment comes in and pays it off, where COMPOUND adds that interest to the balance at the end of the month/day/whatever. Compound charges you more over the life of the loan.

FIXED INTEREST is a set percent that doesn't change, where VARIABLE will change usually based on whatever the economy is doing. There’s a minimum and maximum value to the variable interest rates, so if you’re doing a variable ASK WHAT THE MINS AND MAXES ARE. A fixed rate might be 8% and a variable might be 3.25% the day you take it out, but that variable could have a maximum interest rate of 25% so be VERY, VERY CAREFUL. If you get stuck in a real bad variable interest rate, your best solution is probably a refinance.

2b) Deferment and Payment Allocation

So interest is gonna be accruing on your loan from the day the money leaves the bank. Sucks. And you may not be able to make payments while you're in school, so opting to DEFER your payments will stop them from billing you so you can skip a month or whatever without penalty. At the END of that deferment, though, whatever interest that accrued will be added to your current balance. If we use the example from above (10k loan with 1.64 daily interest) four years of school will add $2,400 to your balance and then your daily interest will jump up to $2.03 a day.

Solution? Make payments of what you can while you’re in school to chip away at that floating interest. Usually when you make a payment, it’s gonna go towards the interest first and then the rest drops the balance. (E.g. if you make a $20.00 payment ten days after your loan is disbursed, $16.40 will go towards interest and $3.60 towards your 10k balance). There is NO PENALTY for making extra payments or making early payments, but it might make your bills look a little weird if you’re being billed each month for just the interest.

3) Why are these loans so horrible? Can’t I find anything to help me?

Blame Reagan and the republicans who enabled him.

No, but really. The problem with these loans is that those promissory notes are VERY legally binding and have lots of fine print in there designed to make it as hard as possible for someone to skimp out on their debt without having their credit score decimated. Some lenders might even dip into your paychecks if you're crazy behind or default; again, that's not my wheelhouse and I've only maybe seen that once. Your best bet is just to pay it off as fast as possible (again, no penalty for paying the loan off early) or refinance into better terms.

And I get it. I really do. I hate how we’ve made so many incredibly important things in our society locked behind a paywall that charges poor people more to climb than the rich. But if you’ve made it this far, please don't turn your anger at me for not giving you the answers you want. The best I can do is vote for people who are willing to crack down on predatory lending, keep fighting for student loan forgiveness… and at my own job, make sure that my coworkers aren't making mistakes.

If you have a more specific question, I can try to answer as best I can without breaking any information privacy laws. And take care, okay? You are never fighting alone.

[mistyhollowcottage]

Saving Money as a Homemaker 🧺

I’ve posted before that we’re anxiously awaiting and preparing for our second baby and with that we’re focusing heavily on saving money! We have high hopes of buying first cars, paying for college, etc etc for both of our girls and despite the fact one is 18 months old and the other is still in utero, we know that the saving and preparing starts now. I do not bring in an income in our home but I do help manage the money my husband brings in and I work hard at making every dollar go as far as possible, so here are some things that make our money go further:

1. Eating at home - everyone gives this advice and it’s because it’s 100% true. You are literally throwing away money eating out and more and more the food that you buy at restaurants isn’t even that good. An easy way to make the switch is by making crockpot meals. Many are “dump and go” meals that require no skill and 9/10 you’ll even have leftovers for lunch the next day. Plus a crock pot is like $20-25 and they last forever.

2. Pay off existing debt - I’m not talking just your monthly minimums. If you have an extra $100 without a job in your monthly budget, it should go towards debt. Any extra you pay on your principal now is money you don’t have to pay in interest later. If you need more motivation for paying off your debt early, pull up a debt calculator and see how much in interest you’ll be paying before it’s all said and done. I promise you’ll get motivated real quick.

3. Create a budget!!! - if you are just floating through life, spending money willy nilly, I promise you don’t even realize how much money you’re just throwing away every month. I remember after I graduated from college and met my husband, we sat down to look at my finances together and I was legitimately embarrassed to see how much money I spent just getting coffee. I was spending a car payments worth on coffee every month and I literally was a barista. I could make that ish at home!! side note - "fun money" is a category you should have in your budget. You are bound to stumble if you aren't ever allowed to spend any money on yourself.

4. Determine what’s worth investing in and what’s not - for us this is list is pretty short. We invest in food and “clean” products. We eat and feel good on a high protein diet so we prioritize meat within our budget. Yes, there are plenty of cheaper plant protein sources, but that is not how we choose to fuel our bodies and it’s not how we feel best. But, more than just choosing to prioritize this financially, we prioritize the time it takes for my husband to go hunting to help save money on this as well. As far as “clean” products, I’m talking fragrance/toxin free shampoos, conditioners, cleaning supplies, etc. We’ll shop sales if one becomes available but we will not skimp with a $1 bottle of shampoo that will irritate my husbands skin or leave me with a migraine. This list will and should look different for every family but if you have your priorities clearly laid out there’s no room for convincing yourself that something not on this list is worth spending extra money on.

5. If you can make it at home, you should make it at home - cleaning products, food, gifts, home decor, all of it.

6. Thrift! But not as a hobby - I love thrifting and there’s a heck of a thrill in finding a beautiful ceramic mug or stumbling upon a cute sweater, but you’re not saving money like that. You should thrift for the things you need first and make sure to have a clear idea of what you’re looking for before going in. The thrift store should ideally be your first stop when looking to buy, but if you can’t find it after a bit of time looking, you’re not less than for having to buy new.

7. Borrow borrow borrow - sure, it’s kinda annoying to borrow other peoples stuff, but there’s really no reason to buy something you only need once or twice.

8. Learn to sew- I’ve had so many pieces of clothing rip at a seam and if I didn’t know how to stitch that back together, I’d have to throw it away and probably replace it (I’m looking you pockets on jackets). Instead, a five minute YouTube video has saved me, idk, probably at least $100.

9. Order your groceries online - this is probably very dependent on which grocers you have close to you, but ours still has online coupons and sales and it is an excellent way to make sure that you're sticking to your list. Plus, it's a godsend with little kids.

10. Finally, identify yours and your spouse's strengths and weaknesses - by this I mean, can you not help yourself from buying something if you go "just to look around" at your favorite shop? Does your husband add 47 unnecessary items to the grocery order anytime it's his turn to do the shopping? Whatever your individual money spending weakness are, identify those and help keep each other accountable or hand off the things that the other excels in so the temptation is just never there.

Happy money saving!

[audrinawf]

I don’t know how but my fiancé always finds a way to get a discount/ money / free things. like he treats all the big corporations like his friends. he just called apple and asked if he could get a new pair of AirPods cause his AirPods don’t sound as good anymore and they just said aight bet and now we have 3 AirPods. they didn’t even ask to see his insurance they just took his word for it. I was thinking they’d at least ask him to send his old AirPods but nope.

like he just asked his job if he could have a car and then he asked if they would pay for his tennis lessons cause it improved his mood which would then improve his work…and his job said ok. like I don’t know if it’s astrology or he’s just a manifesting king???

and that reminds me of when my fiancé ordered my engagement ring and wedding band and they sent them in separate boxes so he had to pay so much money to customs for each box cause they calculated the value of each ring and cause it was two boxes it was going to be two payments but he just called the customs office and said he didn’t want to pay it cause the wedding band is still apart of the engagement ring. and guess what? he didn’t have to pay….like I don’t understand how one gets to just get away without paying customs??? like what????

and it’s really funny to witness things just go his way but then it’s also frustrating cause whenever I’m going through something his response is alway - “well can’t you just tell them you don’t want to pay?” his suggestions to problems are always wild to me cause like what do you mean I should just call them and ask for a discount/things/money/favors ???

[steviewashere]

Happy Doing Taxes With You

Rating: General CW: None apply! Tags: Established Relationship, Married Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson, Domestic Fluff, Tooth-rotting Fluff, Dialogue Light, Doing Mundane Things With One Another

For the @steddielovemonth prompt: "Love is being able to exist together comfortably, sitting side by side and doing your own thing."

💕—————💕

Sundays were for work and complete and utter silence in their house. Now, it wasn’t for big errands like going to the bank or out grocery shopping or any of that nonsense. It was the small things. Things that could be completed over time, if necessary, but were still manageable enough that they could be done in a day or so. This was the day for house chores: laundry, mopping, vacuuming, meal prep. It was a day for: returning their DVD rentals, getting a quick tire pressure check, going through the car wash. It was another simple day of: sit in silence and bask in each other’s easy glow.

During tax season, though, Sundays were for paperwork. Checkbook balancing, getting their receipts in order, finalizing the songwriting (in Eddie’s case), editing that week’s lesson plan (in Steve’s).

This particular Sunday morning, the tax season of 2012, it was for genuine tax paperwork. Collecting W-2s and miscellaneous necessary purchases, the student loan payment on Steve’s part, a car loan for Eddie. It was a coffee and bagels kind of morning. It was a sit at the dining table and let Poncho snooze peacefully on the couch, curled up in a ball, purring away the rays of sunlight beaming on him. A morning in which Steve didn’t contemplate dying his hair to cover up the white streaks or notice how dirty his everyday glasses were, where instead he sat on Eddie’s right, eighth grade exams laid out in front of him, a red pen in hand to mark off errors. One where Eddie has the tax documents, the Casio calculator the size of a small paperback book, his hair tied up (the white dispersed and gentle), his eyebrows furrowed in concentration, his tongue tucked into his bottom lip, leaning back with his reading glasses perched low on his nose, and doing all the math for the both of them.

Steve enjoyed this kind of work. The warmth in it all. Their blinds half open. The dust of their space floating through the air in a gentle gust. Pens making soft taps against the dining table as it made strokes on their respective papers.

He loved sipping noisily on his coffee every once in a while, which earned a small snort from Eddie. Loved letting his eyes drift for a moment, basking in Eddie’s careful left hand marking beautifully all the big numbers that Steve fucking hated. Even loved looking at the same test questions for hours on end, if it all meant soaking up the soft heat of Eddie’s body next to his.

Eventually, though, they both hit a wall. Eddie, because he needs a moment to stand on their back porch and look out at the backyard, as the butterflies settled on the flower garden Steve started, taking in the crisp March breeze, maybe smoking a cigarette if he felt inclined to do so—just away from the numbers that began to bleed together. Steve, well all those years twirling bats and wringing things around with his hands finally caught up to him, a bad case of carpal tunnel syndrome in both wrists—and also, for the same reason, the words bled together. (There’s so much English literature that he can consume. And he’s had to read fifteen summaries on The Outsiders.)

So, they take their warm, room temp coffees. A fresh onion bagel from the toaster, smothered in cream cheese and some slightly bitter beet jam (Steve’s own specialty, he’d raised the beets like children). And they go stand outside next to each other.

Elbows on the fencing of their wraparound porch. Faces pointed towards the calmly stirring grass. Slurping noisily, again Eddie snorts, and again, Steve can’t contain his smile. Their bagels go quick. Crumbs littering the porch’s wood. Cream cheese lightly stuck to the corners of their mouths, tongues darting out like party noisemakers.

Eddie takes Steve’s left hand and squeezes. The wedding band on Steve’s finger clinking against Eddie’s old, well loved mood ring that can only show one color:

Pink.

Steve squeezes back with passion. Knowing that, in about fifteen or twenty or forty minutes, they’ll go back inside and sit back down at the dining table, noses to their paperwork, ruminating on numbers and words. Steve’ll run out of papers to grade, he’ll rub a palm down Eddie’s back, stirring him gently. He’ll kiss Eddie’s cheek, his rough stubble itching at Steve’s chapstick softened lips. They’ll discuss: “Tilapia and couscous? Or should we celebrate being done with our work?” Steve knows he won’t be frying up fish. “Pizza and beer and Golden Girls?” Eddie will ask.

He won’t be able to say no, Steve knows that. He finds it easier to comply with Eddie. To go along with it. After all, doing taxes and house work and discussing dinners, four years wedded but married since 1995—being together since 1986—Steve knows his life is nothing but flat plains and lavender. No more monsters. No more bloodshed. Just simple things.

Like leaning into Eddie’s side, their hands still joined, coffee cups empty, breath mingling as cream cheese and onion bagels. Looking out on their backyard. Standing on the wraparound porch that Eddie promised. In the glow of midday sunlight and one another.

“Love you,” Steve whispers, voice hesitant to break the quiet.

“I love you, too,” Eddie promises just as soft.

💕—————💕 I realized the other day that like all of my steddielovemonth works can be read in such a way that you follow Steve and Eddie from before they got together to when they got married. So, I guess this kind of a married Steve and Eddie AU now, too.