#pay off debts

[yourownbank]

Life insurance is often seen as a Financial Safety Net for your loved ones after you pass away. But what if you’re dealing with Financial Challenges while you’re still alive? You may wonder if you can tap into your life insurance policy to pay off debt. The answer depends on the type of life insurance you have and your financial situation. Let’s explore the possibilities...

[inkskinned]

the thing about art is that it was always supposed to be about us, about the human-ness of us, the impossible and beautiful reality that we (for centuries) have stood still, transfixed by music. that we can close our eyes and cry about the same book passage; the events of which aren't real and never happened. theatre in shakespeare's time was as real as it is now; we all laugh at the same cue (pursued by bear), separated hundreds of years apart.

three years ago my housemates were jamming outdoors, just messing around with their instruments, mostly just making noise. our neighbors - shy, cautious, a little sheepish - sat down and started playing. i don't really know how it happened; i was somehow in charge of dancing, barefoot and laughing - but i looked up, and our yard was full of people. kids stacked on the shoulders of parents. old couples holding hands. someone had brought sidewalk chalk; our front walk became a riot of color. someone ran in with a flute and played the most astounding solo i've ever heard in my life, upright and wiggling, skipping as she did so. she only paused because the violin player was kicking his heels up and she was laughing too hard to continue.

two weeks ago my friend and i met in the basement of her apartment complex so she could work out a piece of choreography. we have a language barrier - i'm not as good at ASL as i'd like to be (i'm still learning!) so we communicate mostly through the notes app and this strange secret language of dancers - we have the same movement vocabulary. the two of us cracking jokes at each other, giggling. there were kids in the basement too, who had been playing soccer until we took up the far corner of the room. one by one they made their slow way over like feral cats - they laid down, belly-flat against the floor, just watching. my friend and i were not in tutus - we were in slouchy shirts and leggings and socks. nothing fancy. but when i asked the kids would you like to dance too? they were immediately on their feet and spinning. i love when people dance with abandon, the wild and leggy fervor of childhood. i think it is gorgeous.

their adults showed up eventually, and a few of them said hey, let's not bother the nice ladies. but they weren't bothering us, they were just having fun - so. a few of the adults started dancing awkwardly along, and then most of the adults. someone brought down a better sound system. someone opened a watermelon and started handing out slices. it was 8 PM on a tuesday and nothing about that day was particularly special; we might as well party.

one time i hosted a free "paint along party" and about 20 adults worked quietly while i taught them how to paint nessie. one time i taught community dance classes and so many people showed up we had to move the whole thing outside. we used chairs and coatracks to balance. one time i showed up to a random band playing in a random location, and the whole thing got packed so quickly we had to open every door and window in the place.

i don't think i can tell you how much people want to be making art and engaging with art. they want to, desperately. so many people would be stunning artists, but they are lied to and told from a very young age that art only matters if it is planned, purposeful, beautiful. that if you have an idea, you need to be able to express it perfectly. this is not true. you don't get only 1 chance to communicate. you can spend a lifetime trying to display exactly 1 thing you can never quite language. you can just express the "!!??!!!"-ing-ness of being alive; that is something none of us really have a full grasp on creating. and even when we can't make what we want - god, it feels fucking good to try. and even just enjoying other artists - art inherently rewards the act of participating.

i wasn't raised wealthy. whenever i make a post about art, someone inevitably says something along the lines of well some of us aren't that lucky. i am not lucky; i am dedicated. i have a chronic condition, my hands are constantly in pain. i am not neurotypical, nor was i raised safe. i worked 5-7 jobs while some of these memories happened. i chose art because it mattered to me more than anything on this fucking planet - i would work 80 hours a week just so i could afford to write in 3 of them.

and i am still telling you - if you are called to make art, you are called to the part of you that is human. you do not have to be good at it. you do not have to have enormous amounts of privilege. you can just... give yourself permission. you can just say i'm going to make something now and then - go out and make it. raquel it won't be good though that is okay, i don't make good things every time either. besides. who decides what good even is?

you weren't called to make something because you wanted it to be good, you were called to make something because it is a basic instinct. you were taught to judge its worth and over-value perfection. you are doing something impossible. a god's ability: from nothing springs creation.

a few months ago i found a piece of sidewalk chalk and started drawing. within an hour i had somehow collected a small classroom of young children. their adults often brought their own chalk. i looked up and about fifteen families had joined me from around the block. we drew scrangly unicorns and messed up flowers and one girl asked me to draw charizard. i am not good at drawing. i basically drew an orb with wings. you would have thought i drew her the mona lisa. she dragged her mother over and pointed and said look! look what she drew for me and, in the moment, i admit i flinched (sorry, i don't -). but the mother just grinned at me. he's beautiful. and then she sat down and started drawing.

someone took a picture of it. it was in the local newspaper. the summary underneath said joyful and spontaneous artwork from local artists springs up in public gallery. in the picture, a little girl covered in chalk dust has her head thrown back, delighted. laughing.

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Burning Rotten Bridges

[First] Prev <–-> Next

[gertritude-art]

i truly understand the temptation of people who make merch when a funny doodle of theirs goes viral because if I could get money from that stupid anon reaction image people apparently still use I would easily do #sellout #greed

[allgremlinart]

inspired by @/mugentakeda's Jet + Iroh hostility doodles but I made it lesko (lesbian jetko) because. I can

[blueskittlesart]

hey has anyone tried to buy a covid test lately. because i just had to buy one for a friend at my local walgreens and the cashier very seriously asked me if i was sure i wanted it because. a 2-pack of tests currently costs $23.99. do we not think that it's a little insane that the only reliable diagnostic tool for a very much ongoing pandemic costs over $20 for a single package. what if I didn't have that kind of money to burn??? Especially if you're already facing potentially losing at least a weeks worth of pay if you DO test positive and can't work. How many people are going to see that price point and decide they can't justify the expense??? literally insane. remember that brief moment of sanity this country had when we all got these for free

[meltedmush]

Can I pay you to make Binghe and SQQ kiss for real in their normal bodies? (They deserve to escape the skin body horror verse for a minute.)

LMAO yes you can!

[krilliondollars]

Cider (og image under read more)

I had no idea what to do with this prompt so I gambled guys. 💪

[kilianromero]

The Payoff

[crazycookiemaniac]

I really need your support :,)

I know I'm a pain in the ass about this. But, please, if you can, please consider commissioning me. I have pay what you can/want commissions open too. If you need I can split the payment in up to 4 installments (or more if you need it) too. I also offer simple 2D animations. If you need a discount, we can talk about it, too. I'm open to draw pretty much anything. So, please, if you like me and/or my art, please consider commissioning me :')

I hate practically begging people to commission me, but I'm so close to paying off all of my debts, but even so the bills are super expensive and I'm scared of not being able to pay them all off this month. Commissions is all I can do (aside from sending free prints of your choice if you commission me and pay the full amount before the month ends if you fill out this form).

If you just want to support me, I accept ko-fi donations as well.

This is so important to me, guys 😭 I'm super thankful to all of you who always reblog my commission info!! I'll forever be thankful if you can commission me during this tough time I'm going through as well, and if there's anything other than art that I can do for you, talk to me and I'll do my best to make it happen if possible!

[fattributes]

It's really hard for me to ask this, but would anyone be able to help me financially get home from work and a doctor's appointment this week? I'm already taking the bus as often as I can, but there isn't one that runs by the time I get off work, and I won't be able to get home otherwise. My next paycheck is expected to drop on the 15th, and I currently only have $5.26 in my bank account. I would really, deeply appreciate any help I can get. Thank you.

cash app: $fattributes ko-fi: fattributes paypal: fattributes@gmail.com

[afloweroutofstone]

Starting a new full-time job on Monday 🥳🍻

[khaire-traveler]

The fact that "broke college student" is a stereotype in the US is indicative that there's a problem.

[veemark]

You know YinWar had a hand in the script when things start getting way too real.

"My ultimate goal is to see everyone in the family live well. My parents won't need to work hard anymore. Dad can come back to Thailand. I'll take care of everyone [...]. I think I can do it". [x] [x] [x]

[creations-by-chaosfay]

Emergency Roof Repair and Storm Cleanup Commissions

As mentioned in previous posts and pinned @anotherdayforchaosfay , we have just been through a natural disaster. Please read the pinned post on that blog. Updates will be added once we get outside and photograph the damage for our insurance claim.

I have opened commissions three months earlier than planned because we need to raise money to cover our insurance deductible as well as hiring someone to remove the tree from our roof and yard. The tree is owned by a lazy landlordlord who owns the property next door. We have told him repeatedly it needs to be trimmed or there will be damage. His property got a quick install sunroof.

I have four slots available across the board and prices start at $150 USD.

I have made the option of commissioning me for a quilt available. Three finished quilt tops are listed as commissions because they're ready for handquilting. Several people have inquired about one of the tops, so now's your chance to have it done sooner than later.

If you can do only a partial payment right now, DM me. I'll write up a contract for payments, and will require 50% upfront and weekly/monthly installs after that. You will then receive an invoice.

Commissions will begin immediately because we now have power.

I will close commissions when all slots are filled or June 1st, 2024. Whichever happens first (hopefully the former). If slots are filled, I will reopen them again after I finish all the commissions. I work fast and may complete six quilts netween now and then.

Donations are accepted,and there are four listings available in my shop with the option to pay more than my asking price (if you add an extra zero, I may very well cry).

Samples of my work below as well as in my gallery.

[feyhunter78]

Among the Sun Ch 2

Description: Your mother must make a choice for the good of the kingdom. Ch 3

Your corset feels too tight, but you relish it, taking comfort in the grip it has on your rib cage, pretending it’s a firm hug, a grounding measure as the throne room fills with armored soldiers.

“You must forgive me y/n, you must.” Your mother says stricken, your hand in hers, her grip ironclad.

“All will be well, do not fret.” You whisper, standing beside the throne, the hem of your skirt wet with blood.

“The Great Sun of the Empire, the Conqueror, He Who Bled Among Demons and Lived, Miguel O’Hara, Emperor of Nueva York, stands before you.” A herald announces as the doors slam open.

You flinch back at the sound and force yourself to turn towards the doors.

“Forgive me, y/n, forgive me, my child.” Your mother whispers over and over again, the sound setting your nerves on edge.

The room quiets as he enters, the sound of his heavy boots echoing off the walls and up to the high domed ceilings.

He is…not the monster you envisioned. He has monstrous traits, but your first thought is that he’s quite handsome. Tall and muscular, with thick black hair and piercing brown eyes. His features are strong, almost divine in their arrangement, and you fight the urge to move towards him for a better look.

“Queen Cyathea, you have my deepest sympathies for the loss of your husband and son, but I am a man of principle, I cannot make exceptions, so I offer you a choice, bend the knee, pay tribute or—”

“Take her.” Your mother says, cutting off the emperor.

You look back at her in shock, but she pushes you forward. “You must do it, y/n, for our people.”

You stumble forward, catching yourself right before you topple into the firm, armored chest of Miguel.

It’s as if he hadn’t noticed you before, but now he grabs your wrists, pulling you closer, inspecting you with an uncaring eye. “You wish to offer your daughter as tribute? My people do not believe in slavery, nor do I.”

“Take her as a bride, a servant, a bedwamer, she is pretty and a quick learner she can do many tasks.” Your mother says frantically, sounding very unlike herself.

Your face burns at her words, and you struggle against Miguel’s grip.

“Stop.” He orders, his voice cold.

You freeze, glancing back at your mother, silently begging her to do something, anything.

“Take her, leave our kingdom alone, we will not trouble you.” Your mother says a tone of finality to her voice.

She has made her choice.

Tears sting your eyes, and you stare up at the ceiling, praying they will not fall. You can’t cry in front of the Conqueror; you can’t show such weakness so early on.

Miguel laughs, it’s a booming sound, soon echoed by his men. It’s terrifying, and you fight the urge to curl in on yourself.

“I will take the girl, your kingdom remains in your hands, My Queen.” He says, giving her a half bow before throwing you over his shoulder and departing.

He doesn’t set you down until you’ve entered some kind of tent. It’s large and lavish, lanterns hanging from taunt ropes, trinkets, and pillows thrown about.

“Please, my mother is grieving, she did not mean what she said, I will return, and we will not trouble you. You can take anything you desire from the kingdom, but I beg of you, please let me go.” You can’t stop the tears from falling, and you try to quickly wipe them away.

Miguel towers over you, his arms crossed, his broad chest rising and falling in an even motion. “An arrangement was made; will you not honor it?”

“I—”

“A queen, a princess, a kingdom without honor is no good to me. It serves only as kindling.” Miguel says the lack of concern dripping from each word.

“No, no, please, I will honor it, I will.” You stumble over your words, cursing yourself for such weakness.

“Good.” He says curtly, his hands settling on your shoulders before they begin to slide down your body, his large warm hands caressing every inch, the skin so hot you fear he’s attempting to burn through the fabric of your dress.

You jump back, mortified. “How dare you?”

He grabs you, pulling you back, one hand on your waist, the other continuing its path. “I am checking you for weapons, cariño, cannot have you attempt to kill me as I sleep.”

You relax, slightly. “Oh…well I did not bring any weapons, I was not allowed to bring anything, but clothing and a few personal items, all of which were checked by your men.”

“But they are not me, they are not allowed to touch you.” He says, his hand leaving your wrist as he crouches down, his hands sliding down your waist, hips, legs, until he stands back up seemingly satisfied.

“I have no weapons.” You tell him.

He hums in response and grabs a dagger from the wall.

“Wait, wait, please, I swear I have nothing.” You plead, throwing your hands up in front of you helplessly.

He throws the dagger with surprising speed, and it tears through the fabric of the tent. Then you hear a thump. He leaves you there, then reappears dragging a body behind him. “Recognize him?”

You force yourself to look at the dead man’s face, he has a strange mark on his neck. You don’t recognize him. “No, I’ve never seen him before.”

Miguel hums in response.

“Should I recognize him?” You ask, inching closer, trying to place the man.

“Stay back.” He warns.

You freeze and your stomach churns as you watch the flesh melt off the man, revealing a twisted, demonic form beneath.

“He’s an anomaly, a human who strayed too close to dark magic and was consumed by it. They prowl the land searching for victims, destroying lives with a single act.” He explains, before he snaps his fingers, and the corpse dissipates.

“And he was coming here? For what reason?” You ask, a chill of fear settling over you.

“There is no reason to these creatures, y/n, if you see one, with that mark on their skin, you run. You find me, and I will kill it, do not attempt to engage it, no matter what it says to you.”

“They speak?” You’re both curious and horrified.

“They lie.”

He’s silent after that and finishes removing his armor, leaving him in simple breeches and a linen shirt. The shirt is unlike any you’ve ever seen. It dips low in a sharp “v” exposing his toned chest, with loose laces you assume meant to close the gap, but Miguel has them undone.

“Where am I to sleep?” You ask carefully, your hands behind your back to hide their fidgeting.

He looks over at you and raises an eyebrow. “In my bed.”

Your face heats up and you shake your head. “I—that is not appropriate, I am unmarried.”

Miguel makes his way over to you, his amber eyes burning into you. “Would it be more appropriate if you were married? If I kept you half bare in my bed while your husband was languishing in a castle somewhere?” He leans down skimming his nose up your throat inhaling deeply. “Yes, perhaps it would, how pathetic he would seem. How tortured he would be knowing that his wife is well satisfied night after night, drooling for my cock like a whore.”

You rear your arm back and slap him. Shock reverberating through you, your hand stinging, your head reeling. You were going to die.

Surprise flickers across his face, then he starts laughing. He keeps laughing, doubling over, the sound rich and still booming, echoing off the walls of the tent, and you take a panicked step back.

“I—I am so sorry, Your Majesty, truly, truly sorry.” You cry, tears welling in your eyes once more.

Miguel straightens up and in one swift motion throws you over his shoulder, then onto his bed. “You have fire cariño, I enjoy it.”

He’s hovering over you, strong arms steady, no sign of fatigue from holding up his weight. Gray ram-like horns protrude from his head, their bases hidden by his thick hair, the ends tipped with gold. He trails a clawed finger down the curve of your cheek, until all you feel is a calloused fingertip resting at the corner of your lips.

Can he retract them? You wonder, your eyes on the cloth ceiling.

Miguel gently grabs your chin, guiding your eyes to his. They’re brown like the rum barrels you often see rolled off ships, and just as potent as the intoxicating liquid they hold.

“Please do not harm me, I will not cause you trouble, I swear.” You promise, feeling a strange tugging at the edge of your consciousness as Miguel keeps his eyes locked on yours.

“Sleep, I will not touch you. I am not an animal who forces himself upon others.” He reassures you, a bitter tinge to his tone, his eyes shifting from yours for a moment, that tugging feeling receding.

You’re too stiff to sleep but try to force yourself to relax. “Thank you.”

Miguel’s eyes snap back to yours, red scattered within the brown, blood flecking the dirt of a battlefield. “Do not thank me, sleep.”

His words echo in your mind for a moment, then you sink into the arms of sleep.

TL: @not-aya, @belos-simp69, @deputy-videogamer, @sxnasbitch, @maxi-ride, @minimari415, @syndrlla97, @gejo333, @lady-necromancer, @zeyzeys-stuff, @tayleighuh, @loser-alert, @envyjmoney, @allysunny, @princessloveweird, @freehentai, @xlittlebubx-blog, @berry-potchy, @drefear, @jkthinkstoomuch