#Online Water Bill Payment

[online-mobile-recharge-best]

HOW TO CHECK FOR CONSUMER NUMBER IN THE WATER BILL

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Comparing Online Platforms: Where To Pay Your Water Bill Easily And Securely

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"Rechargezap.in is dedicated to providing a seamless and secure experience for users looking to pay their water bill payment online. We understand the importance of convenience and safety in today's digital landscape of Rechargezap.in. "Our platform simplifies the process while prioritizing data security, allowing users to manage their water bills with peace of mind."

When it comes to comparing online platforms for water bill payment, Rechargezap.in emerges as a frontrunner. With its user-centric approach, commitment to security, and eco-friendly practices, Rechargezap.in offers a reliable solution for pay water bill online. To experience the convenience and security firsthand, visit https://rechargezap.in/ today.

[saiidahyunie]

fake and true

minatozaki sana x f!reader || pt.2 pt.3

synopsis: you think you struck gold with an offer that's impossible to ignore, and sana thinks she's hit the jackpot in matchmaking. 

warnings: fluff ; cursing ; alcohol ; money talks ; reader is terrible at narrating ; sana is a few years older than reader ; tzuyu x shuhua pairing ; college student / tuition struggles ; jihyo mentioned but never appears ; not proofread

a/n: haven't wrote for sana in a HOT minute, also my first fic that actually uses a proper twice song?!?!

you first hear about it first from your best friend chou tzuyu.

“it’s an app,” she says while sitting on your couch, painting gloss on her nails with your little makeup box that you keep under the nightstand in your room. tzuyu then tosses the small bottle back into the box next to her with no care for it; she’s usually careless about most of the things in her life. “it’s just a way to make money.” 

make money? you think, and ask, with an eyebrow peaked up. isn’t that technically–like sex work? but minus the onlyfans biz—

“don’t be so reductive,” tzuyu corrects sharply. “it’s being called a sugar baby. and sometimes it’s not even that bad. sometimes the girls on there don’t even want sex. just company. they’ll pay you for dinner and that’s it. it doesn’t have to be so exclusive or that involved.” 

“have you ever done it for yourself?” you ask.

“me?” tzuyu snorts. “no, of course not. but it’s all online. a bunch of women have talked about it.” she looks up from her hand and gazes at you meaningfully. “i’m not saying that you should do it, but if you’re that desperate then why not? it’s really not that bad.” 

it’s really not that bad, you think, and just days later, you’re reminded with the numbers of your bank statements.

you rent was due in a week.

you just paid for the internet, drawing cash from whatever was left from your recent loan. most of the tip money you scrapped together for the necessary utilities in the house alone. there was also the debate if it was really necessary to cover the light bill when you could just go to bath and body works and use that money for strategically placed candles around the apartment instead. the water bill was necessary, obviously. and cheap, thank god—you never used it more than you needed to— but rent. rent. 

unfortunately, you can’t cut corners with that one. 

you take another bracing swig of your wine, staring hard into your computer screen. you phone rests right beside your elbow, and you glance at it, considering. mina had told you that you can always ask—

but no. your cousin never had much money to spare, and you can’t expect her to throw hundreds and hundreds of dollars your way every time you find yourself wanting, not when she needs it, herself. not when she’s the one who gave you the warning of going to grad school in the first place, having anticipated this happening. you can’t do that to her and live with yourself. 

but then again, you can’t pay your rent and live in general. you were already on your landlord’s ass for the last overdue payment as it is. 

so you let out an exasperated sigh, with your face in your hands, borderline breaking a sob, before ruthlessly scratching your hair and inhale through your teeth. you don’t know what to do.

you had a good case for compartmentalization. since you were little, you know that some parts of your life were meant to be separate and not coincide with the other. stress from school should not bleed into your work. a bad grade from an exam doesn’t mean that you can spend your day wallowing in the corner of your room and crying. your one option, the only option really, was to get better, try harder, and don’t cry. find your own solutions. it’s what mina kept preaching for you all throughout college: “find your own solutions.” 

find, you think again, distantly, and you look at the black screen of your phone. your own solutions. 

“it’s really not that bad.” 

you bite your lip hard, mind racing, pulse jumping beneath your throat. your adrenaline spikes as you reach for it, taping the screen and opening the app store. the thought in your brain rattles much like: i don’t want to, i don’t want to, but you have to, because you never have enough money, and you can’t afford to work a second job while being a full-time student, and even then it might not be enough. may never be enough. and you have to. the rent is due at the end of the day. 

a fingertip taps on the screen of the light pink app, and it’s downloading. once you open it, you refuse to give the urge to throw your phone across the room and forget that you ever thought of trying this; that you smash it into pieces and toss it into the garbage disposal. but that would be just another expense added onto the list, and you already can’t afford the one you have. 

with a deep breath and another sip of the expensive wine, you suck it up and make a profile. 

when the matches start coming in, you’re getting nervous. 

you drew the line of age range maxing it at just pushing 30 and above, you didn’t want to play with the idea of speaking to anyone older, even if it was just for dinner. most of the women you see are largely unappealing. most of their bios are either cookie cut with the similar story of their life or skevvy, worst comes to worst of the thought being that it wasn’t a viable solution for her money situation. 

the reality sinks in, and you’re nearly brought to tears. 

you’ve only ever had three semi-serious relationships. two of them were in high school, the last being with your ex-girlfriend when you were in your undergrad courses: elizabeth. she was kind to you, and sweet, and very patient. she had a predilection towards arrogance, having grown up with everything pretty much handed to her, but she was good, down to the marrow. it was because of you that the relationship broke; you had aspirations to go to school and elizabeth wanted to settle down, and you were unwilling to meet her in the middle, knowing that something was off. despite all of her vitreus and being aware, despite the fact that you loved her– truly, honestly— she wasn’t the one: she wasn’t the person that you wanted to spend the rest of your life with. 

and, you think wryly, staring down at your phone screen, at the new message notification. neither is park jihyo sadly. 

but that doesn’t really matter, does it? you didn’t download the damn app to find a wife. 

you click on her name. her profile is as spares as it was an hour ago: a brief descpirtion of her job—district attorney, head prosecutor– and three photos of herself, none of them were too grand, just her in a well fit dress or blazer. the photos all lend an air of importance, however. of severity. this is a woman who clearly knows what she wants and is used to getting it. you’re simply another play-thing she gets to choose. the thought chills you. 

opening the message. it’s a matter of fact as you expected it to be: 

do you like dinner?

hi! you type back, cringing with a stank face while your thumbs twiddle with the phone screen. of course i love dinner!

great. a few seconds pass before her icon pops up again, and your heart jumps to the hollow of your throat when you read: would you like to join me for dinner this weekend? and before you can ask, yes, you will be compensated for it.

the upper row of your teeth are latched to your bottom lip, thumbs hovering over the keyboard. the edges of your phone slide agaisnt your clammy palms. you can feel the pulse booming in her ears, like a rush of a tsunami. if you wanted to, this could be the last chance to say no, to delete the app and pretend you were never in this madness to begin with. maybe you can ask mina for money. what cost is your pride, anyway, when compared to this? 

but you already had your mind set on what you were going to say before you could even type it out.

yes! i would love to. <3

it’s amazing for the bold courage you had to tell when you see her on campus, isolated in a corner of the library. tzuyu takes you completely by surprise when she shrieks in the quiet environment. 

“you managed to get a fucking sugar mommy?!” 

“shut up!” you hiss, looking around frantically. none of the other students nearby seemed to have noticed her outburst. “nothing is official. i only agreed to go out to dinner with her.” 

“still,” tzuyu adds, leaning back in her chair, eyes appearing like she’s caught in a daze. “i didn’t expect you, of all people, to actually do it. you barely just lost your virginity.’ 

“that’s not true.” 

“a vibrator doesn’t count.” 

“i was talking about elizabeth!” 

“who you broke up with two years ago. my point still stands,” tzuyu says. her bewilderment has melted from her face, leaving a begrudging amusement. “i still can’t believe you did it, though.” 

“you’re the one who recommended it to me.” 

“i know! but when the hell do you ever listen to me?” she retorts, setting her elbows on the table and cradles her chin with her palms, staring at you expectantly. “so? are you gonna show me pictures of her?” 

“i wasn’t really planning on it,” you say wryly, but pull your phone out anyway. “it’s not like she’s a girl that i’m actually talking to.” 

“oh, but she is,” tzuyu says, taking it. your attention shifts from her face to jihyo’s profile, flushing slightly when you notice the disappointed frown that tugs at her friends lips. “she’s cute, but i don’t know…” 

“what makes you say that?” 

“well….you know…” 

you bristle, shaking your head, “you said it yourself, some women will pay you for the company. she said that i’d be compensated for dinner but didn’t mention anything after.” 

“well, thank god,” tzuyu replies, scrolling through the messages now, pausing over the one selfie you sent to prove that you weren’t a catfish: her request to add by the way. “do you know what you’re gonna wear?” 

“probably some cocktail dress. she said we’d be eating at a restaurant in a hotel. so, i’m not picturing anything that fancy.” 

“i’ve looked through your closet, though. you don’t have any cocktail dresses.” 

“yes, i do. the blue one. with the long sleeves.” 

horror is drawn all over tzuyu’s face. “you mean the one you wore to your senior homecoming. when you were eighteen?” 

“yeah, it’s nice.” 

tzuyu takes your hand from across the table, giving you a look that makes your stomach clench form embarrassment; a look the precedes many of her statements about their different priorities, the vast gap between their socio-economic classes. 

“no offense, y/n. you’re drop dead gorgeous. you’d look beautiful in a black plastic trash bag, but that dress? are you kidding? at–tell me about the restaurant again?” 

“four seasons.” 

tzuyu then slams her palm down flat on the table, earning a glare from the girl sitting behind her. “at the fucking four seasons? hell no. absolutely not. you’re not wearing that, especially if it looks like you got it from fucking windsor.” 

to be fair, she was right about that one. although there’s no point in bringing it up now. “i mean, i don’t have anything else to fall back to.” 

“i’ll let you borrow something. i have, like, a million cocktail dresses.” 

“nothing you have will fit. i’m about your height but your waist is more snatched than mine.” 

“that’s very true, but i’m sure it’ll fit!” 

“should i ask shuhua for her input?” 

“you can! her and i are similar in size so we can ask for her help too and i’m sure she’ll find something for you to borrow.” 

you shift in your comfy chair, still uncomfortable. you’re not the kind of person to ask for anything. “are you sure? i think my dress would be fine.” 

“trust me, it won’t be. and shuhua loves you and loves playing these kinds of games even more. she’d definitely say yes to helping.” 

“if you say so.” you quip while leaning back, watching tzuyu pull up her other best friend’s contact, thumbs flying across the screen. a second passes before she whoops a little and shoves the phone in your face. you can see the clear—and predictable—dry text since she was at work and not with you guys: sure. i can give her the black one.

“do you know which black one she’s talking about?” tzuyu asks, brown eyes sparkling, unfairly dazzling under the muted fluorescent lights. “it’s this one i bought her. it’s a little tight and it has a sweetheart neckline. oh, t/n, you’re gonna look so hot.” 

“i don’t need to look hot,” you retort, flustered, “it’s only—” 

“dinner, i know.” she waves you off, texting again. “but trust me, you’re gonna want to make a good first impression. when is your date?” 

you nick your eyebrow and your mouth winces at the word date, it sets an uneasy feeling in your stomach, a perverse malformation of what romance is supposed to be. “this friday.” 

“perfect. i’ll come over with the dress and help you get ready. i’ll bring my makeup bag too, if you want?” 

you blink at tzuyu, a flush rising beneath your cheeks. you don’t know how to say no. how to remind your friend that this isn’t a date but a transaction, and that there really shouldn’t be any excitement about this. however, before you can try, tzuyu grabs your hand again, grinning widely. 

“this is gonna be so much fun!”

a week passes and friday rolls around frighteningly quick, giving you little to no reprieve or time to prepare, but tzuyu arrives just when she said she was going to. at 6:30 pm, right on the dot, smiling at your front door with a makeup bag in one hand and a garment bag in another. she waltzes in through the open door, gracefully, hair flaunting around, dressed like she was the one going out tonight. 

she jostles the makeup bag on her shoulder. “where are we getting ready?” 

you lead her to your room, crammed between her only bathroom and the small living room, directing her inside. tzuyu tosses the bag on your bed before walking towards the vanity and plopping down on the seat. she pulls the zipper of her pouch and starts pulling out miscellaneous products, an all-name brand: a small eyeshadow palette, a lipstick, bronzer. tom ford, chanel, MAC.

“so,” tzuyu says cherrily, hair up in a low ponytail swinging as she turns to look at you. “are you excited?” 

“no.” the answer comes easier than you expected it to, especially out loud, but it’s true. you’re not excited, rather, you’re— “i’m scared.”

“what? why?” 

“i don’t know this woman.” you walk toward your bed, slumping on the corner, shying away from the dress like it can burn you. “i’ve only talked to her a few times. she’s older and she’s important and she’s rich and—” 

“and?” tzuyu asks, swiveling towards her. “you’ve met my dad and brother. both of them are equally important and granted, one is an esteemed businessman while the other is a professional formula one driver.” 

“that’s different tzu. i’m not trying to be your dad’s sugar baby.” 

“i see your point, but—” 

“this is serious.” you snap, nerves fried, as they have been since you agreed to go on the fucking date. since you also realized that you were so dead broke that you had no other choice but that. “i’m going out with a stranger for money. i have no idea what’s going to happen and i’m scared.” 

“i’m sorry,” tzuyu says, sobered, all wry humor wiped off from her face. “i’m being an ass.” 

you look at the lingering wall, muttering your forgiveness, embarrassed at the outburst, but your friend stands up and makes her way over to you. she’s grabbing your shoulders, looking at you seriously.

“do you want to cancel?” 

“what?” 

“do you want to cancel?” she repeats. “if you’re uncomfortable then you can cancel. there’s no shame in that.” 

“i don’t…” you glance at your feet, eyeing the glossy hardwood floor below you. you’ve been needing to sweep up the place for quite some time, but since your mind has been caught up with other priorities that shifted away from simple house care—

“i can’t. i can’t afford to.” 

“there’s always other ways to make money. you can ask—” 

“i’m not asking mina,” you say firmly. “i’d rather sleep with jihyo than ask mina for anything.” 

tzuyu smirks and takes a step back with her palms up, held open in surrender. “it’s a good thing it’s just dinner than, right?” 

“yeah. just dinner,” you say. it’s as much as a reminder to yourself, and does little to calm your nerves. but it’s the truth, that’s the good thing about it. if she expected anything more, she would’ve mentioned it by now.

“okay,” tzuyu beams, hands on her hips, grinning again. “let’s help you get ready.” 

your uber—graciously paid by tzuyu—drops you off at the four seasons at exactly 8 o’clock; just when jihyo said she’d be there. 

you mumble a thank you to your driver as you step out, pulling your coat tighter around you. the dress beneath was black, the hem would just be a few inches above your knees, and tight. tiger than you thought it would be, but should’ve expected given who the owner is. you had always been slim, but your hips and breasts are—full, is a word for it. you’ve blossomed at seventeen and had a history of finding bras your size since then. 

tzuyu and shuhua, both tall and rail-thin, built like haute couture models. thus, the lent dress give to you would fit more snugly on you than you initially hoped, pulling tight across your hips, pushing your brasts up farther than you’re comfortable with. you feel like you’ve been put out on display, and the thought follows you as you steps inside the ritzy hotel, bundling up in the pit of her stomach like a coil: a woman who’s owned.

you want to vomit on the gleaming marble. 

the nice lady behind the front desk directs you to the restaurant after asking. when you walk away, you wonder if she can sens the anxiety and desperation wafting off of you, the fear. and if she did notice, what does she think? are girls in her situation common? do they all look the way that you do, with their cheap shoes and expensive dresses, hand-me-downs from nicer women? are they older? younger? you can’t fathom it. something being younger and doing this. 

when you walk into the restaurant, a sharply-dressed hostess in all black greets you with a smile. “hello, ma’am. are you meeting someone?” 

“yes, i have a reservation,” you say. it comes out in a breathless rush. “park jihyo. she said to come at 8. she might be here already?” 

“let’s see.” she walks behind the podium and picks up an ipad, tapping it. she scrolls down, brows furrowing, before looking at you. “oh okay. i do see a park jihyo here but she hasn’t checked in yet.” 

“oh,” you breathe, trying to ignore the rush of overwhelming relief. “can i…do i wait for her at the table?” 

she offers a sympathetic frown. “unfortunately, i can’t sit you until i get proof of ID from the person who made the reservation. it’s to prevent people from stealing other people’s tables.” 

“oh. um, do i leave?” 

“you can sit at the bar if you want?” she says, gesturing towards it. “i’m sure you’ll be waiting for just a few minutes anyway.” 

you nod and send a tight smile in thanks, walking towards the bar, angleed against the other side of the restaurant. like everything else in the hotel, it’s disgustingly opulent. the counters are a dark, shiny marble, as black as onyx. the tall stools have golden legs, the cushions soft and leathery when you move to sit atop it. a beautiful woman smiles at you while you settle in. to your relief, there are very few patrons around you. 

“hi. can i get you anything?” 

you consider it for a moment. drinking wasn’t the plan. and you were always a lightweight, and you don’t want anything in your system that could impede her decision making. but…

“a lemon drop, please?” 

she nods and moves towards the drinks, mixing with a quick, effortless efficiency that fascinates you, as eager for distraction as you were right now. the martini finds it’s place down in front of you, and you smile, fiddling with the straw. “i was a bartender for a little bit, you know?” 

“were you?” 

“yeah. i switched to waitressing, though.” 

“oh, really?” her eyes dart down to her fancy dress, alight with curiosity. you try not to blush. “you came here for a nice date then?” 

“um—” 

just then, an older woman sitting a few chairs down snaps at her, calling for her attention. she sends you an apologetic smile before stepping away. you sigh and take a bracing sip of your lemon drop, trying to pace yourself. 

you don’t. 

half an hour later, you’re still sitting at the bar, your second lemon drop in front of you, and more than a litte woozy. the bartender—seulgi, your new friend—stands on the other side of you, drying a crystal cup with a rag, as much of a cliche as she is. 

“do you want me to call a taxi?” she asks, concerned. 

“i think my friend irene would like you,” you say, sitting forward; her question doesn’t register. “she’s got black hair, and a bit shorter compared to you–” you’re holding your hand out and waving it around, slightly above your own head- “she’s really cute.” 

“i’m glad you think so,” she says dryly. “i don’t recall asking for a matchmaker, but—” 

“a lot of us don’t ask for a lot of things, but we get them anyway.” 

“that’s a bit of striking honesty.” 

“well.” you swivel in your chair a little bit, resentful. “my cousin always says that i’m a gloomy brat with a big mouth.” 

“and does your cousin live here? can he or she pick you up?” 

“no,” you pout. “she lives, like, two hours away. i came here for school.” 

“okay, what about your friend irene? can she pick you up?” 

“she’s probably sleeping or studying,” you say, wiving her off. a thought strikes you then, and you smile. “you wanna meet her, don’t you? i can give you her instagram.” 

she drops her elbows onto the counter and states at you. finally, seulgi shrugs. “yeah, let me see.” 

your smile widens and you reach for your coat, now rumpled from when you carelessly tossed it onto the chair next to you after getting overheated. you pull out your phone and quickly scroll through your messages. nothing from jihyo yet, but you expected that, having long since gotten the feeling that you’ve been stood up; not that you really mind. you mourn the money more than anything else. it’s why you haven’t left. 

“here,” you say, once you switched to instagram. “this is her username, renebaebae. you should message her.” 

“i might,” seulgi says, winking at you, before turning over her head. she straightens up, once again slipping into a professional veneer. “hi, welcome. can i get you anything?” 

curious, you turn over, blinking when you notice a woman sitting just a chair away from you. she’s thrown her suit jacket off and has her sleeves rolled up. her eyes follow the length of her toned forearm, lingering on her silver rolex, before moving up again, from the broad stretch of her back to the locks of brown hair. you only stop when you notice that she’s caught you, brown eyes twinkling, the flash of them almost fox-like. 

she has a whiskey in front of her. they’re alone. seulgi had journeyed down the other end of the bar. 

“do you need something?” she asks. 

“no.” you take another sip of your lemon drop, just to keep from looking at her. 

she doesn’t offer the same courtesy. “are you drunk?” 

“no,” you sputter. “obviously not.” 

she hums, disbelievingly and glances at the chair between you, as if in silent permission. you dip your chin and she moves into it, throwing her jacket onto the counter. if you inhale, you can smell her perfume: a rich, dark scent that settles into the pit of your stomach, slow-moving and warm. rich. her watch gleams beneath the golden lights, like her shiny oxford heels and the cuff-links she carelessly tossed into her pocket. she must feel at home here in the grotesque palace of wealth. you wonder if she can smell the fraud wafting off of you, thick as the victoria’s secret perfume you spritzed on just hours before. 

“are you on a date?” 

“no.” a wave of defensiveness rises up, bolstered by resentment, and the alcohol does little to dampen its sting. “and you? why are you here?” 

“i’m drinking,” she says, and takes another swig. your eyes flicker down to the line of her throat as she swallows. when you look back up, her lips quirk. “i had a meeting.” 

“a meeting? at the four seasons?” she really is rich. 

“no, a meeting at the new york-presbyterian hospital and then dinner at the four season. my co-workers are a bunch of old men who fall asleep at 9:30 so i decided to get drunk instead of joining them.” 

“you’re a doctor?” 

“trama surgeon. you?” 

“waitress,” you say dimly, ignoring the flush that warms your cheeks. you hastily add, “and i go to school here. finishing up my undergrad, actually.” 

“nice.”

you lean into your palm, staring at her. “you look very young to be a doctor.”

“so everybody keeps telling me.” 

“how old are you?” 

brown eyes cut to you, sharp like a knife and mirthful in a way you can only describe as mean. “are you sure you’re not on a date?” 

your flush spreads, hot beneath your skin, and you look away from her, taking another swig of the martini. you caught her meaning and you’re not sure if you actually like it, if she’s making fun of you. 

after a beat of tense silence, she sighs and shifts closer, pressing her wrist lightly against her own. 

“twenty-nine,” she says, “and my name is minatozaki sana.” 

roughly about seven or eight years, you think. not that old or too old for that matter. “my name is y/n.” 

“y/n.” and you never knew your name could feel like a caress in someone else’s mouth, but it does. “it’s nice to meet you.” 

“you too.” 

seulgi passes by you again, getting another whiskey for sana and a third lemon drop for you. you can sense that she’s reluctant to give it to you, and you know that you should be mindful of how expensive this tab can be, but you don’t care. after today, with the stress and fear and the adrenaline constantly pumping in your veins, you’ve lost the ability to; you’re numb. 

and so you ignore it. “wanna take shots with me?” 

“you’re really trying to get drunk, aren’t you?” 

“aren’t you?” 

“it usually takes a bit more than two whiskeys and a shot to do me in.” 

“so no?”

“how much have you racked up on this tab y/n?” sana asks, and you visibly stifle a wince. “three lemon drop martinis. that’s probably over a hundred fucking dollars, knowing this place. why the hell would you go to the four seasons to get drunk anyway?” 

the tone is definitely something you don’t like, the patronizing color to it. it makes you reckless. “i was invited.” 

“by who?” 

“someone that isn’t here.” 

“so you are on a date.” 

“no.” 

“then who invited you here?” 

“someone.” 

“a man? woman? probably someone your age.” 

you huff a bitter laugh and take another sip of the martini. “not my age exactly.” 

“so older.” it’s not a question but a statement, and she leans back in her stool, eyes flat. “not a date, but you—some random, pretty-grad student—were invited to the four seasons by someone older than you. i’m assuming or man or woman?” 

“mhm, a woman.”

“can i ask you a personal question?”

“you already have been.” 

“why did you agree to come?” 

why else? you’re pondering. “money.” 

she stares at you for a few seconds. you keep waiting for the disgust to bleed in, or the judgment, or—if worse really happens let alone the unthinkable—the excitement for your perceived vulnerable, but she gives you none of that. instead, she curses softly under her breath and sits up, carding a hand through her brown hair. “that sucks,” she says, looking at you. the intensity of her sympathy startles you. “i’m sorry.” 

“i-it’s okay.” 

“she’s terrible for doing that, what a piece of shit. it’s rare these days how women act like that. even crazier that some can’t find real love on their own so they look for it in people like you. the ones that can’t say no.” 

“i don’t think she wants love from me.” 

her mouth thins, fist clenching atop the counter. “you mean sex?” 

your eyes widen. “no, not sex.” 

“then what is it?” 

“company,” you say. “dinner. sometimes they’ll pay you for it. it’s all over the internet.” 

“yeah, said by fucking liars. what woman is signing up to be a sugar mommy so that she can take a girl that looks like you out for just fucking dinner? how does that make any sense?” 

you’re squirming in your seat, nearly cringing at the discomfort. sana’s saying everything that you’ve been trying to ignore for a week straight, and suddenly, you hate yourself for thinking that you could be so naive. that you have the privilege to be, like tzuyu.

“i—” 

“did you drive here?” 

“what?” 

she stands up, reaching for her suit jacket. a pang of mourning shoots through you when you realize that she’s leaving. “did you drive here?”

“no. my friend ordered an uber for me.” 

sana nods and looks over to seulgi, gesturing for her to come over. she whispers something to her, a request to her tab, probably, before looking back down on you. 

“what time was your date?” 

“eight o’clock.” 

“i think you’ve been stood up.”

“i know.” 

she shrugs the jacket on, fiddling with the cufflinks. she looks disheveled, but in a way that seems purposeful. enticing. seulgi hands her a black booklet, and sana pulls her wallet out. you glance away form her, always awkward around money. 

“you probably shouldn’t talk to this girl again.” 

“wasn’t planning on it.” 

“you should also delete the…app—? she raises an eyebrow at you. you nod—”that you met her on. shit’s already sketchy as it is.” 

“i know.” 

sana steps back, and you bite your tongue, just in case. 

"it's nice to meet you, y/n. maybe i'll see you around?"

unlikely but you’re entertaining with the idea, dipping your chin an acknowledgement because you’re still too afraid to speak. she turns on her heel, and you watch her, eyes following her back until she’s disappeared from sight. you’re hitting the one eighty to face seulgi, only to falter when you notices the black booklet in front of you. “am i cut off?” 

“yup,” seulgi says, a smile playing on her lips.

you brace yourself as you slowly open the bill, cringing away from it like it can hurt her. however, it’s not the sight of an exorbitant price that greets you, but a wad of cash; hundreds of dollars. more than that.

and a series of numbers are written on the receipt, with a note on the bottom, penned in a somewhat elegant writing that shows a sliver of sharp intelligence.

“for subjecting you to an interrogation when you were trying to get drunk. good luck with school.— sana.”

“she left me a hefty tip too. for both of you,” she says, smirking at you. “you must’ve made a very lasting impression.” 

a close of the hand slams the booklet, and your eyes were unseeing. 

five hundred dollars. 

you’re counting five hundred dollars. 

five hundred. now 480 from the twenty you forked over to your uber driver on the way home. but five hundred dollars, given to you by a veritable stranger, along with—

the receipt is in your handbag, not messing with the thought of throwing it away. if not for her company, then for her generosity. and you really should call her; to thank her, send the money back, ask why the hell would she bother throwing that much money away on a poor, drunk woman wallowing away at a bar. jesus christ almi—

the trill of your phone startles you, ducking your head while you’re scrambling to the couch to yank it from your purse. tzuyu’s smile flashes at you from the screen, and you sigh deeply before bringing the phone to your ear. “hello?” 

“hello,” she says, voice pitched in a lilting sing-song. “‘i’m with shuhua and you’re on speaker. say hi.”

“hi, shua.” 

“sup, y/n.”

tzuyu chimes again, “so, how was it?”

“uh,” you glance down at your handbag again, at the wad of cash sticking up from the top of it. your pulse jumps. “it went alright.” 

“was jihyo as scary as you thought she would be?”

she, well- uh– she never showed up.” 

“what!?” you scrunch up your shoulders at the screech. “what do you mean she never showed up?” 

“i got stood up.”

“oh, beb. i’m so sorry.” 

“it’s fine.”

“so it ended up being all for nothing?” shuhua asks, appalled. “you got all dressed up and went down to one of the most expensive hotels in the city for fucking nothing? you’re still broke?”

tzuyu shrieks again, this time shushing in scolding, but you huff a laugh instead of getting offended, still reeling in disbelief.

“not for nothing.” you mumble out. and the line stays quiet on their end. “what did you say, honey?” 

“not for nothing.” you repeat, louder. “i…i met someone, and she…” 

“and she what?” 

saying it out loud wouldn’t make it make sense, but you force the words out in vain hope. “she gave me five hundred bucks.” 

the other end went silent again, clearly digesting this, seeing what they can make from it. that is, until shuhua barks out a mean laugh and asks, “don’t tell me you got on your knees for her or something?” 

“shua!” 

“it’s an honest question! what kind of old, rich woman gives a girl money for free unless she’s actually interested in?”

“i didn’t—” the lump in your throat rises while the heat flushes your cheeks. “nothing happened between us. we just talked. and she isn’t old.” 

“...is she cute?” 

you’re thinking of sana’s strong side profile, rolled up sleeves, and the low registered tone along with the bite of her tongue. “yes.” 

“so if nothing happened, why did she give you money?” shuhua asks.

“i don’t know,” you reply softly, pulling up your knees to hug them. “i think…she just felt bad for me.” 

“felt bad for you? what makes you say that?” 

“i told her why i was there, pretty much. she seemed bothered by it.” 

“if god was a woman,” tzuyu says, a smile in her voice, and despite her generosity, you don’t even know if you’d consider sana your saving grace; there was an intensity to her, to her kindness that belied normal human decency. you can’t even tell if she’d do it for anyone else. 

but if that were the case, why you the? what did you do to earn that kind of attention?

“well, i think there’s something else happening that y/n is telling us,” shuhua says bluntly. “i don’t see why she’d be that nice otherwise.”

tzuyu hums along in agreement, considering. “what do you think, y/n?” 

“i don’t know either, if i knew exactly the i would’ve told you.” 

“maybe it’d be worth taking into account asking her then? let your curiosity get the best of you.” 

you’re reaching for your handbag, pulling the crumpled receipt from it, smoothing your thumb over the fine printed calligraphy of sana’s name. 

“maybe i will.” you whisper. 

later after the call, you text her while you’re tucking yourself into bed, hoping that it’ll be late enough that she won’t immediately respond. the nervousness and confusion rumbling in your head to even go forward into speaking to sana. you toss your phone on the nightstand and turn over, willing not-so-tired body to sleep. 

the hope diminsieses very quickly. phone vibrating for a few seconds to make you jump up, reaching over. you’re tapping at the unsaved contact and click on the text, trembling. your own message flashes at you innocently, and you just want to throw your phone into the toilet or damn fire: hi! this is y/n. the girl you met at the bar tonight. do you remember? 

sn: 

hey. and yeah i do. 

y/n:

cool! your thumbs hover over the touchscreen. unfortunately, i think you might’ve accidentally left something with me. 

sn: 

it wasn’t an accident. 

y/n: 

oh, you think, typing away. i’im so sorry, and thank you so much for your kindness, but i can’t accept that. 

sn: 

why not? 

y/n: 

it’s too much money and you’re a stranger. i can’t ask that of you.

sn: 

you don’t owe me anything. 

a second passes before she adds: can i call you? 

your heart skyrockets up to the opening in your throat while your adrenaline spikes. for a moment, you want to say no. you don’t know if you can handle it, hearing her voice after she’s done you such unnecessary kindness. but it’s the thought that loops around and convinces you: sana gave you five hundred dollars. the least that you can do is have a damn conversation about it. 

yes.

your phone rings just seconds after you’ve pressed send, and you take a deep, steadying breath, willing your heart to slow it’s pace. you pick up. “hello?” 

“hey.” 

the low timbre of her voice makes your breath hitch. she sounds like she’s been sleeping. like she woke up for you. 

“you wanted to talk?” 

“well, you did. mostly.” you can hear a slight rustling on the other line. her shuffling in bed. “you said something about owing me.” 

“i can’t,” you say firmly. “i’d have to repay you, and as you can guess, i’m not made of money right now—” 

“i didn’t give you that because i though you would owe me something. to be honest, i didn’t know if i had a chance in hell of seeing you again. i was trying to be nice.” 

“and i appreciate it, but i can’t accept it. five hundred dollars is a lot of money, and—” 

“i’m a surgeon.” 

“which is how i know you’ve worked hard for it. i’m sorry, sana, but i can’t accept it.” 

“does anyone do nice things for you?” 

you blink, “what?” 

“you just seem to have a hard time accepting kindness.” 

“i…i don’t…” 

“fine,” she huffs. “i’m not gonna force you to keep anything you can’t accept.” 

“can i give it back to you?” 

“i was thinking more along the lines of: you could toss the cash in a fire if you want it—” 

“no,” you say, horrified. “i want to give it back to you.” 

silence lingers on sana’s end. your pulse roars in your eardrums and your fingers are gripping the sheets. you have this distinct feeling that you’re dangling over the precipice, waiting for the ball to be dropped. 

“how about you meet me for lunch?” 

“huh?” 

“lunch. tomorrow afternoon at 2.” 

“i…um…”

“or i can give you my mailing address and you can ship it back to me. whatever you want.” 

“are you asking me out?” 

her voice comes in lower, barely over a rumble over the crack of the speakers. deliberate. “if you’re okay with it.” 

you remember sana at the bar, under the dim golden lights. how she leaned into you when you spoke, how she listened, the geunine sympathy in her eyes when you told her why you were there. the way you mourned the loss of her when she left, with an intensity to it that startled you. 

answering in a breathless rush. “lunch. i-i’d like to go to lunch. with you.” 

“cool.” you can hear her smile. “i’ll text you tomorrow?” 

“yes.” 

“okay. see you then.” 

“see you.” you whisper, and drop your phone once she hung up. about two seconds pass before you pick it up frantically, dialing shuhua’s number. 

she sounds annoyed, plus a giggle is heard in the background. she and tzuyu were definitely hooking up. “what?!”

“shua! i need another one of your dresses!” 

half an hour before your date, sana texts you: “there’s been an emergency at work. i got called in.” 

you, on the other hand, was in the middle of drawing a very sharp wing, not caring for the falling eyeliner when you reach for you phone, frowning. 

y/n: 

huh!? what happened? 

sn: 

one of the other surgeons had a heart attack this morning so i had to fill in for him

it’s been a shitty day. 

y/n: 

i’m sorry :( 

a fleeting attempt to stave off the wave of disappointment that threatens to consume you, feeling ridiculous for it. childish. 

but it’s not so childish however, to keep you from typing, “will you have to cancel? :(“ 

sn: 

for lunch, yeah. but i was thinking we can reschedule for dinner? 

y/n: 

will you be able to get out by then? 

sn: 

my supervisor said i can expect to be out by 6. i can pick you up at 8:30 if you want? 

you press a finger to your lips, smothering a smile. 

y/n: 

i’d love that. 

sana’s reply comes a second later. 

sn: 

i’ll see you then. 

[payrupp]

[itstartedin1989]

emergency commissions!

so, me and my family are currently struggling with money. we've been struggling for a while now and have been able to barely make ends meet, but are especially in need now. we have some late utility and credit card bills and today they cut our water service.

i myself am unemployed and have been struggling to find a full or part time job for a while, so i opened commissions in order to make some money to compensate for the lack of income. however, i didnt have any previous artistic online presence and have yet to grow one in order to get commissions rolling in. this wasn't a big deal before, but like i said, we are in need and money is tight now more than ever.

with that being said... i do have a goal i would like to reach. since i dont live by myself, this is pretty lenient, but i still felt like it was a safe bet. the goal i have in mind is of around $250-300 usd, which is the overall cost of the late bills.

my commissions info post is pinned to my profile (you can also just access it here), but i'll give a rough summary. keep in mind that, since this is for an emergency, i'll be requiring 75% upfront of the total cost, if not paid in full, contrary to the standard 50% or full as stated in my commissions info post. i will also be sorting the queue by order of confirmation of payment. all payments via paypal.

bust sketch $30, colored $45

half body sketch $45, colored $60

full body sketch $75, colored $89

additional character +50% base price per character. background ranges from +$10-25 depending on complexity.

i also do furry art. same price rates.

i dont draw explicit nsfw or heavy gore, complicated mecha or anything discriminating.

any kind of help will be greatly appreciated, whether you get a commission slot or simply reblog and share with friends who may be interested.

[phantomrose96]

Yknow I don't think I've... talked about the absolute smorgasbord of shit what's gone wrong with my condo since I moved in so

day 0 - hadn't moved in yet, was just moving items over, turned the sink on for just a moment. turns out the tube feeding into the sink faucet was full of holes (how???) and this caused a never-ending leak under the sink. the standing water rotted the baseboard under the sink

still day 0 - said leak and water accrual dripped down and damaged downstairs neighbor's ceiling ($$$). she has to call me to tell me about it.

I have to get a plumber out there next day (still not living there yet! empty place! I have to take off work). While waiting for plumber, I discover heat's not working.

Go to basement to investigate boiler. Seller didn't fix the issue they claimed they fixed.

Plumber looks at sink. Declares it full of holes. Says he can come back in a few days to fix it.

(Plumber postpones, then flakes. I chase down a different plumber.)

Plumber 2 says the issue is with the garbage disposal, not the faucet. Can come back x days later to work on that, and the boiler.

Plumber 2 comes back x days later (I have to take off work again), says "oh the disposal was messed up but also the faucet has holes." Says he can come back maybe the NEXT day with a new faucet

Oh also the smoke detector in the back hall is low battery beeping and I don't have a battery for it. It's constant, every minute on the minute.

I bike to a hardware store and buy a faucet and a battery ($$). Get lost on the way home. (All of this back and forth is by bike. I live in the city and do not have a car.)

Plumber replaces the faucet ($$). I replace the smoke detector battery but it's still beeping. Dozens of more stupid minutes later of going up and down and up and down stairs and dragging my big stupid ladder around, I realize it's the carbon monoxide detector which is hidden behind the door I need to open to even get to the back hallway.

Plumber services the boiler ($$$)

I move in. I have a less than great time emptying everything from my apartment, which doesn't have plumbing issues. On a bad foot to start.

Travel for Christmas. Come back. Now the first floor back-hall smoke detector is beeping. (At least I have a fucking battery. Get my big stupid ladder down the back hall, knock every wall on the way down, and replace that battery).

I get first month's heating bill (I'd been living there for 10 days if even.) $334. Jesus christ. Likely due to the boiler issue.

Electricity goes out for the evening, same day as I get this bill from the gas and electric company, because fuck you I guess.

Homeowners insurance log in doesn't work. I haven't received my bill, which I need to pay.

Radiators bang in the middle of the night. Something something about them being old or not level or full of ghosts. Cool I don't need to sleep or whatever.

I've received no correspondence from the bank about my first mortgage payment. It'll be due Jan 1st, which is a holiday, so I reach out early. They say it's in the mail.

I monitor my mail every day. I receive no mail. I contact again. I reach out to my old apartment building in case it's there (they can't tell me). I sign up for a bank account with them online. I jump through various hoops to discover the bank has my address wrong. The address of the place the mortgage is on...

They had the mortgage address right. They had my home address as identical to the mortgage address but with one number missing. No one noticed. They'd been sending my stuff to a non-existent address, or the back of a college warehouse, I haven't quite figured it out.

I jump through more hoops to pay my mortgage payment with a check in the mail (I had to go buy stamps and an envelope) (late, but they assure me there's no penalty, but are you sure.)

^This has all been about 2 weeks. btw.

(I get a therapist, and find my way to being seen by a psychiatrist, which I guess is good but jesus is it $$$. Still figuring out how to use my stupid HSA)

People on floor 1 move out. They've got contractors in constantly renovating the place top to bottom. I get all their paint fumes.

Sound proofing doesn't exist, turns out. I hear my downstairs neighbors' conversations. I hear their tv. I hear street conversations. One night it was pouring rain and I was woken up by the sound of something banging against the house. Like genuinely banging. I go outside and investigate - it's a car idling with their windshield wipers going. Windshield wipers. Why would that be audible. Walls made of paper.

Floor 1 contactors leave the back door open one night. Luckily I wasn't storing anything in the back hall and had the door to my interior locked.

I receive my next month's heating bill. $689. I call the gas company and they shrug. I call the plumber and he shrugs. I turn the heat way down cuz I don't know. I dunno. Something's wrong with the boiler but it just got serviced so I dunno. I have to call someone else.

Speak of the devil, cones appear immediately outside my building declaring there's going to be gas line work. For a month. They start with the jackhammers at 8am every weekday. It's gonna be a month. I miss the windshield wipers.

We have a weekend of arctic freeze. -30F windchill. I go down to the basement Sunday morning to do laundry. Floor 1 contractors have outdone themselves by leaving a window open. Pipe had burst in floor 1 and was pouring water down into the basement, totally flooded.

I have to call the plumber, and flag the Floor 2 people about it and they at least find the master water shutoff. I'm dealing with the plumber and I have no water for half the day and no laundry for me.

I want to lie down in a marsh for a bit.

[netherworldpost]

"Say, your advertising your project's existence was just a little zine, wasn't he?"

I will never advocate being anything less than professional with Staff. Raging user at social media network is not effective or good for anyone.

A(n alleged) decrease of commitment on their part to a platform I am committed to is not a comfortable position

Ultimately, they are treating this like a business decision, which is fair

So am I. We both have an equal right to self preservation and project growth.

Here is an outline post on how to make zines in the thought line of "I run a small widget and I want people to remember I exist."

It's not for everyone, it's not the only solution, it's not perfect, it's not a one-size-fits-all. You'll have to modify it.

MY PLAN

My current numbers as of this writing is to produce a small zine using 1 sheet of paper on a custom-printed envelope and mailed to customers once a month.

Retail price will be $10/year, production cost per customer is just shy of $14/year, so each sign up costs the company $4/year (about $0.33/month).

Free shipping (simplifies things)

Billed 1 year at a time. Payment processing has a floor of $0.30, costs would be destroyed if we handled it monthly.

No auto-renew. This easily could become an experiential nightmare for customers and us as a shop. Reminders will be included during the last few months.

1 sheet of paper cut in half and folded in half stapled into a zine. Very limited space. Fun, bright, we can produce it quickly in-house. Small so it doesn't create a project backlog.

For us: this project is not to make money.

It is to remind folks we exist when they remember "oh hey Someone's Birthday is coming up, I should get a card from Netherworld Post Office. Maybe a few labels to decorate the envelope, a sticker or two for my water bottle."

From past experience, a handful-percent of customers on this kind of system will make the entire system profitable, annually.

The rest will enjoy it tremendously, which pays dividends in unexpected and myriad ways. Word of mouth of mouth of mouth of mouth of mouth (etc.)

Ultimately: the risk is brutally small.

YOUR PLAN

Can be whatever you want.

Part of the reason my costs are so high is because I want custom printed envelopes. If I got blank envelopes then rubber stamped them, I would save about 25%

But. I explicitly want crisply printed multi-colored envelopes

(because we are going to sell envelopes in time, so it's a continual proof of production in terms of what we can do)

You could also charge some or all shipping. Or raise the price. (Or not do any of this!)

There is a pin company in Canada that sends me a reminder every six months or so that they exist and like clockwork I buy a packet of pins and stickers. Not every reminder, probably 2-3 times every 3-4 years.

Same idea.

Some folks will prefer email newsletters -- which they don't pay for, that's great, we offer that too.

Online advertising exists. It can be cheap. It is always at least medium-level complicated.

Moving into the woods and saying "no social media networks for this biz!" is not practical (or us and for many)

Rebooting an audience every 5-10 years on a different network is not practical

I HOPE TUMBLR OUTLIVES ME

It is my sincere and legitimate hope that this site continues, grows, evolves, strengthens. For both personal and professional reasons.

I similarly recognize that my goals and theirs may not continue to align forever -- and that's far more my problem than theirs.

Here is the zine guide link from the beginning.

Here is our shop's landing page with newsletter signup for when we launch.

Good luck everyone (staff explicitly included in "everyone")

[that-punk-adam]

I wish there was a better way of just…. [vague hand gestures]

Housing. Is such a pain. To get and maintain.

Rent. You never own it. $1.4k a MONTH for a poorly designed and maintained closet with NO amenities included in that rent. A single person cannot afford to live alone anymore because I guess we decided to not start burning shit down once $7.20 is a federal minimum that isn’t sustaining whatsoever. It can pay a phone bill and feed you some days. Car insurance, gasoline, maintenance on a car, food, water, gas (utility), electric. You’re super lucky if you’re going to get 3k a month after taxes.

I had to hunt online for housing. I had to apply to places, average $25-50, to get denied at most because husband doesn’t have a job because he wasn’t living in the city full time. You need a car to go ANYWHERE in this fucking country. Car = insurance, payment, gasoline, maintenance. $500? $600? $800? On top of rent + bills. On a single income just a tad over 2.3k after taxes. We didn’t have a vehicle for a while and when we asked (begged) my in-laws (his sister + her wife) for help with a car, they had to drive to Kentucky for the cheapest thing they could find bc there was no way in hell for me to save anything. Nothing at all. After the online nonsense we had to wake up as early as possible for him to drive to these locations, all 20+ minutes away from each other, on a crunched schedule, on what would be considered a ‘last moments notice’. If I was on a 9-5 schedule there would have been zero hope of ever getting out of my parents house short of running away because the modern world only runs between 9a to 6p.

Finally, a paid off car. In-laws back into it and bust the radiator to hell. Totaled. No car. We didn’t even get the insurance and title switched over. They were going not even 5 miles and killed it. Now on our own we won’t ever have a car unless he can work (????) and we manage to have no accidents or try to enjoy life too much.

I was 2 minutes late today after waiting on a ride that took almost 15 minutes to get to the unit we finally managed to get. The second driver got to my workplace as fast as he could but it was still 2 minutes too late. The apartment hunting made me late repeatedly. We almost had a roommate and I had to be late for that too. I was so sick I couldn’t even be awake 2 times in the span of 2 months and I’m convinced it was a nasty variant of covid. Testing isn’t accurate anymore and those tests cost $20/each, not (100%) covered by insurance, and you ‘should’ use at least 4 tests over the span of 3 days.

Y’all. I have only been in the work force for 4 ish years and I am ready to retire. If I loose this position I’m not even going to attempt to look for anything else. I’m going to leave society and if I die then oh well. The concept of being born for the purpose of working until you die is the most cruel and unethical thing I could ever do to another human being. I love my hypothetical children so much that they will never exist. I love my hypothetical children that I will do everything in my power to make sure they are never conceived. There is nothing worst then to be born into this form of slavery and to never to be able to opt out of it except for death.

[trivialbob]

The more I fly with an airline, the nicer they are to me. I get upgrades and free drinks.

The longer I’m with my cable company the worse they are to me. The price creeps up a few dollars every few months. Oh, I’ll deal with this some other time, but I’m not going to worry about $2 right now. It’s the frog in the pot of water on the stove business model.

Service went out last night. I tried the usual online help/chat.

Q: How many cable boxes are not working?

A: Two

Q: Select which one it is.

There were other similar dead ends. Finally I had enough of “Please unplug your set for 30 seconds” and called a human. Nowadays calling a person isn’t necessarily less aggravating for me than trying to “chat” with a computer, but it couldn’t be worse than the chat.

Many years ago, with AOL dial-up (eeeeeee-awwwwww, boing, boing) service, I had some problem. Via my landline I reached a techie guy in the US who was genuinely eager to help. Maybe it was his first week on the job.

When he said, “Oh Dude! I see the problem! Here’s what we gotta do...” His demeanor made me smile. Some people HATE being called dear, sweetie, or dude, but I sort of like that informality in some settings. A grocery store cashier recently said to me, in a bit of a Southern drawl, “Hey hun, you dropped your card.” It cracked me up.

Today’s help desk person was nice. It’s frustrating to be asked to re-do all the steps I tried on my own. They have a script to stick to; I get it. I can also picture this iknstruction in the script: “Be sure to thank the customer at least every 2 minutes for being one of our valued customers.”

From some research I did online for my particular error code, away from the cable company’s web site, I suspected a billing snafu, despite my last payment posting on time and no new payment being due yet. One brief error message on my TV even indicated something about billing, but I wasn’t able to recreate that message.

I asked the person about billing. “No, no. You’re account is in good standing. And thank you for being one of our valued customers, Mr. Bob.”

Then we waited on the fifth or sixth reboot. She also indicated she was starting the process to “escalate the ticket,” because nothing was solving the problem.

She must have sensed a little frustration on my part, though I was very polite the whole time. She ended up changing something that cut my bill a little and even bumped up internet speed (despite my current speed being awesome already).

I had to acknowledge the billing change via a text she sent me. The moment I clicked Yes my service was immediately restored. I said she no longer need to escalate the ticket to a higher level. She seemed happy the problem was resolved. I bet she wondered what happened too.

It’s not a free drink and more legroom. I appreciate the discount. Except it started with a problem, not because I’ve spent a lot of money there over the years.

[thesims3help]

Sims 3 - Gameplay enhancing mods: Money/Finances, Shopping, Transportation.

A category-based mod post. Mods and links previously featured in our Masterlist. All credits to their rightful owners.

Categories include: money, salary, minimum wage, tax, bills, banking, investing, stock market, benefits & services, transportation related mods.

Bills, tax, charities:

Tax Collector - Allows manual tax collecting in-game.

Higher bills (or no bills) and less CAS money

More Money for CAS Families (Four Flavors)

Harder Bills (Higher Payments) & No Fairy Booby Trap Mailbox: 1.50 - 1.67 by Nona Mena (simlogical.com)

Minimum Wage/More Realistic Earnings, Higher Tuition, Higher Boarding School Costs, Higher Grant Money

ClaudiaSharon's Simblr: Donate to Charity for All (tumblr.com)

ClaudiaSharon's Simblr: Harder Bills and Higher Donation Costs mods (tumblr.com)

Banking, stock market:

Non-Core Global Online Banking Mod

Social Clubs Mod (+ banking) - Grow Memberships, Push Activities, Make Bank Accounts and More!

Investment Mod (Update 9/3/23) - MultiTab Compatible

Lost&Found: Stock Market

Things cost money:

Workout Costs Money

Open Cinema

Taxi Charge Mod

Subway Charge Mod

Futuristic Transportation Charge

No Fridge Shopping

No Free Quick Meals

Pay to give bottle and change diaper

Adoption Isn't Free

Simstopics Adoption Costs $$$$

Shop for clothes

More Expensive Medical Advice with flavours - 1.67

Bouncers want Bigger Bribes 1.67

ClaudiaSharon's Simblr: Cheaper Scraps and more options, a mod or two (tumblr.com)

Consigner:

nraas Consigner

Department Store Register

Benefits & Services:

Government Benefits & Services Mod

Transportation:

Realistically Slower Cars, Taxis, and Bikes

No Limos - 1.63 - 1.67 by Nona Mena (simlogical.com)

No Car Relationships

nraas - Traffic

Default Taxis

Vehicle Default Replacement

Old Sailor Taxi - Water Taxi Default Replacement

[online-mobile-recharge-best]

HOW TO CHECK FOR CONSUMER NUMBER IN THE WATER BILL

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[payrup151]

payRup Online Water Bill Payment Pay Water Bill Online-https://payrup.com/water-bill-online-payment

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Water Charges Bill Online Payment

Water Charges Bill Online Payment

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[zerosecurity]

LockBit Ransomware Gang Claims Responsibility for Wichita, KS Cyberattack

The notorious LockBit ransomware gang has claimed responsibility for a devastating cyberattack on the City of Wichita, Kansas, the largest city in the state with a population of nearly 400,000. This ransomware attack has forced the City's authorities to shut down crucial IT systems used for online bill payment, including court fines, water bills, and public transportation. Wichita, a major cultural, economic, and transportation hub in the region, and home to several aircraft factories, announced the disruptive ransomware attack last Sunday, May 5, 2024. In response, the City's IT specialists promptly shut down computers used in online services to contain the damage and stop the spread of the attack, as stated in their announcement: "This decision was not made lightly but was necessary to ensure that systems are securely vetted before returning to service." LockBit Ransomware Gang Threatens Data Leak Earlier today, the LockBit ransomware group added Wichita to its extortion portal, threatening to publish all stolen files on the site by May 15, 2024, unless the City pays the ransom. This unusually quick listing of a ransomware victim, merely three days after the attack, is believed to be in retaliation for the recent international law enforcement operation that named and sanctioned the leader of the LockBit ransomware operation, a 31-year-old Russian national named Dmitry Yuryevich Khoroshev, who uses the online alias "LockBitSupp."

Lockbit Lists the City of Wichita as one of its victims.

Widespread Service Disruptions in Wichita

Meanwhile, Wichita continues to face significant disruptions, with the latest status update indicating that the following services remain unavailable: - Auto payments for water bills are suspended. - Public Wi-Fi at certain locations (Airport terminal, Advanced Learning Library, Evergreen, and Walters branches of the Library). - The online catalog, databases, and some digital services of the Library. - Email communications through the city network for Library staff. - Self-service print release stations and self-check stations at the Library. - Automated materials handler at the Advanced Learning Library. - Most incoming phone call capability for the Library. - Wi-Fi and phone services at neighborhood resource centers. - Public services, including golf courses, parks, courts, and the water district, require residents to pay in cash or by check while online payment platforms are shut down. Additionally, any Request for Bid, Proposal, or Qualifications with a due date of May 10, 2024, has been deferred until May 17, 2024, and the 'Bid Opening' scheduled for Friday, May 10, 2024, has been canceled. Public safety services like the Wichita Fire Department (WFD) and Wichita Police Department (WPD) have resorted to using "pen and paper" reports, and the Wichita Transit buses and landfill services can only accept cash payments. Data Theft and Potential Leak While the City is still investigating whether data was stolen in the attack, the LockBit ransomware gang is known for stealing data before deploying their encryptors. Therefore, if a ransom is not paid, data will likely be leaked in the future on the ransomware gang's data leak site, exacerbating the already severe impact of this cyberattack on the City of Wichita. Read the full article

[bathynalia]

More than you could know.

Retail fucking sucks. Amaranth has gotten good at coping with it though, between social media addiction and little appeals to her self esteem. But god, wouldn't it be nice if she could shut her brain off for a while? If only she had some kind of tentacled eldritch horror to help her out with that. (Thanks to @hutiapendra for the header!) ----------------------------------------------------

Every day, Amaranth got sick of her job in new and familiar ways. Dissociating her way through the “thank you”s, the “can I return this open package”s, the “Bring Me a Manager”s. It felt like all day, every day, she came in and cut her brain into pieces. One for the lady with the alleged service dog biting people. One for the man who had a good chuckle at her name tag. Five-fucking- thousand slices for all the kids screaming because their parents wouldn’t buy them those tantalizing snacks in the checkout aisle.

She savored her hour-long lunch break with the thorns of a famished porcupine. Nobody could make her even think about work. Instead, she gave her miniscule remaining slice of self to the internet. One tweet for the masses of other deadbeat trans girls in her phone. On a good day, this would be something like: “i think we should all be furries but not in the mascot way like we should all just run into the woods and pee on sticks”. This garnered comments that boiled down to variations of “or each other.” Not her thing, but she appreciated the brazen perversion as an escape from her customer service smile. Amaranth had a very carefully curated feed of weirdos and freaks and this was a source of genuine pride for her. On a bad day, such as today: “retail fucking sucks.”

Flipping over to her own page, Amaranth saw that the header image was some stupid slap-dash edit of some orange tomato-looking fruits surrounded by dollar bills with her avatar’s face plastered over them. She had to find some way to restrict her access to social media when she was high off her ass. Then again it probably made good shitpost content.

She chuckled to herself and flipped back to her timeline. This was a vital part of her lunch-time rituals. She would scroll until she inevitably saw some new world event, reaction to online discourse, or plea for crowdsourced rent payments until she remembered that the world sucks, everyone sucks, and it would only ever get worse. From then until her manager harassed her to get back to work, she did little besides scrolling and skimming, barely reading or doing more than liking some art or article she thought she might come back to appreciate later. This was a justification she would inevitably fail to follow through on.

Vitally, this served to prime her for the remainder of her shift: it gave her something to not think about while she helped people. It was much easier to explain that no, not all phones took the same chargers, than it was to feel guilty for ignoring the desperation in that internet panhandler. She was barely getting by as she was. Maybe she should make one of those too. Or maybe that was a humiliating ordeal of vulnerability and she could sell foot pics instead. She wondered every day why she hadn’t gotten into that market yet.

Amaranth gave away a few more slices of herself on the way home. One to apologize for how long she took sliding her crumpled bills in for the bus fare. One for the group of drunk moms who splashed openly carried beer in water bottles as they toasted their daylight bar crawl. One for the man with the scraggly cheek-hairs asking for a light when she got off at her stop. Amaranth didn’t smoke, but she made a point of carrying a lighter because the culture of it appealed to her. That one actually felt nice. One slice given, one slice received. The sun was nearly down, and the air chillier than her oversized sweater was suited for, but Amaranth felt an unusual spring in her step. Maybe this was her purpose. She might fade away under the cruelty of the world, but she could offer reprieve to everyone else coming down with her. She made a mental note to send five bucks to that poster she saw if she made rent this month.

It wasn’t until Amaranth walked through the door of her studio apartment that she remembered she had a roommate. She always remembered right under that threshold. It was another ritual in her day that she was getting pretty good at taking in stride.

“Parsimony, my favorite delusion! I return triumphant, hating the universe one iota less than usual!” Amaranth threw herself on the couch and felt the new yet familiar slither of her unknowable partner’s arms coiling around her torso. Amaranth had long since stopped trying to comprehend what exactly she was cohabitating with. Knowledge of the entity’s presence only maintained itself within the confines of the apartment, and the shape of her body faded the moment you took your eyes off her. But that was fine. Amaranth knew all she had to, which was that Parsimony loved her, and she knew how to use her tentacles.

Parsimony grumbled. If she was such a delusion, then who washed the dishes Amaranth left in the sink all week?

Amaranth waved her hand dismissively. “It’s a term of endearment. Really, thank you. The rain lately, it’s made me wanna jump in a gutter. But hey, today it was just dry and cold, I had a nice chat with a strange man, and I have a wonderful new idea for a business opportunity.”

Parsimony reminded her that she had attempted to sell pictures of her feet online five times in the past month and every time she had stopped short of a deal because she was paranoid about her recipient somehow using the background information in the photo to dox her.

“Oh, shit yeah, good thinking.” Amaranth sat up and waltzed into the kitchen. “Well, with all these clean dishes, I oughtta make us something nice for dinner. In the mood for anything specific? Ramen? Freezer pizza?”

Parsimony slid a tendril under Amaranth’s shirt, groping at her chest and creating a faint haze at the corners of her vision. She intoned that she would like a portion of Amaranth’s conscious mind. It would fill itself back in, of course. Nothing to fear.

Amaranth stared straight ahead, catching her breath.

“That sounds good. Real good. Wait your turn though, I’m fucking starving.”

(Read the rest here! Tumblrs being rude to Parsimony)

[beardedmrbean]

A Turkish firm has cut power supplies to Guinea-Bissau's capital over an unpaid bill of at least $15m (£12m), plunging the city into darkness.

It has severely disrupted daily life, with hospitals affected and radio stations off-air.

Economy Minister Suleimane Seidi acknowledged the arrears, saying most of the bill would be paid in 15 days.

Karpowership is one of the world's biggest floating power plant operators, supplying several African states.

But it has taken a tough line over non-payment. Last month, it cut power to Sierra Leone's capital, Freetown, over an unpaid bill of $40m.

The Turkish company has also signed a deal to supply power to South Africa, saying it will cover more than 5% of the country's total electricity needs.

South Africa has been hit by a wave of power cuts with people going without electricity for up to 10 hours a day.

Power was cut in Bissau, a city with a population of more than 400,000, in the early hours of Tuesday and has not been restored, a resident told the BBC.

Some public hospitals are now using generators to carry out surgery, local journalist Assana Sambu told the BBC.

But they don't have running water because there is not enough electricity, and hospital directors have appealed for power in order to cook food for their patients.

Another journalist, Alberto Dabo, said he was drinking water from a well because water supplies had been cut amid the sweltering heat which reaches 40C.

"Our houses are very hot. Most families stay outside till 4am before entering their houses to spend the rest of the night. You can't stay indoors because of the heat."

State-run Rádio Nacional is among media outlets that have stopped broadcasting, while the private radio station where Sambu works is only partially operating, he added.

Karpowership says it has been supplying 100% of Guinea-Bissau's electricity since signing a five-year agreement with the state-owned electricity and water utility company in 2019.

The country is one of the poorest in the world and has been beset by instability since independence.

"Unfortunately, following a protracted period of non-payment, our [floating power plant] is now unable to continue operating," a Karpowership spokesperson was quoted by the Reuters news agency as saying.

"We are working around the clock with officials to resolve this issue and we aim to have generation back online as soon as possible," the spokesperson added.

Energy Minister Isuf Baldé said $6m of the $15m bill had been paid.

"In a small and poor country like Guinea-Bissau, carrying out a transfer operation of this level, $10m, takes time," he said.

He added that the contract with Karpowership needed to be renegotiated because costs had almost doubled since it began, to a level Guinea-Bissau could no longer afford.

The company also supplies electricity to six other African countries - Ghana, The Gambia, Ivory Coast, Mozambique, Senegal and Sierra Leone.

The company prides itself as "the owner, operator and builder of the world's only Powership (floating power plant)".

Its involvement in the electricity sector is the latest example of Tukey's growing influence in Africa.

Although access to electricity has increased in sub-Saharan Africa in recent years, it still remains low, with more than 50% of the region's population having no grid connection, according to the United Nations Conference on Trade and Development (Unctad).