#does that make it even more sinco ??? | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

eyeofclaws · 2 days ago

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I know for a fact there are at least three posts starting exactly like this, but listen to me anyways; Singed must've met Silco while he looked like this for sure.

It's why Silco was interesting to him in the first place i think.

Do you ever think about that? How Singed must've taken Silco in right after him and Vander had the fight? Like, when his eye first started to change, when the wounds kept opening back up, not healing right, partially not healing at all due to the chemicals from the water.

The toxicity sitti deep in Silcos flesh, in his nerves, torturing him every moment of his existence. Singed must've been absolutely awestruck the second he laid eyes on the broken and wrecked man Silco was. Singed saw this broken young man, this absolute freak of nature and nurture, destiny to die but fighting fate with spite and rage, anger that runs so deep that it's keeping him "alive", and thought he was the most beautiful creature to ever walk this earth. A walking corpse that Singed opened his arms for and caught, not only inviting himself into Silcos life, but also inviting Silco into his.

Silco died way before Jinx shot him, way before they even met, and Singed was there to witness the change over the years without and with her. Singed was there for it all, saw every little change, saw the times his eye didn't bother him as much, the time it took to get used to the constant pain, saw the bad times when Silco couldn't even step into the dimly lit streets of Zaun because it was too bright for his injured eye. He worked on Silco, his perpetual little project, the ongoing story of a man turned beast by the hand of family.

LISTEN I JUST GOT VERY STRONG FEELINGS ABOUT THESE TWO OKAY

#arcane #arcane s2 #arcane s1 #arcane league of legends #silco arcane #singed arcane #is this sinco even tho i just want them to have unspeakable amounts of backstory together?#does that make it even more sinco ???#i am feeling very strong emotions about two animated men and their traumatic and fucked up life's #sinco

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ladycapuletwrites · 6 years ago

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Can I get an edit

Some corrupt cops are sitting at the table next to us, I’m stoned and eating pizza.

We had a big night on the bags last night; me and receptionists and some dorm mates.

Natasha is sitting next to me, we’re trying to concentrate on this weird movie we’re watching, but I keep phasing out, and I feel like there’s things I need to do but I can’t remember them. Virgo is at the reception desk. He looks tired. I’m not surprised. A lady came into my dorm room at 10am when he was supposed to start work to tell him he was running late. She stood in the doorway as he awkwardly tried to put his clothes back on without her hawk eyeing his dick.

I remember the hazy details of the night before. He’s one of those tall, art nerd types that I’m so attracted to. Long blonde hair like Legolas. I helped him edit his application letter for a job, and we celebrate him getting offered the position by buying a few grams of coke each and getting so high we can’t decide what’s real and what’s an echo of our thoughts. I mean, it all is really, isn’t it?

He suffers from coke dick in this situation just like many who came before him. Or more accurately, didn’t.

We end up falling into a kind of distracted and uncomfortable buzzed slumber together, after stealing some warm beers and sculling them.

I don’t remember what happened to everyone else, but here are the remainder of us, sitting on this long couch, forcing ourselves to eat pizza and watching a movie that none of us can comprehend.

We’ve ordered it from the Colombian version of Dominos, which is a thing in Medellin. It was only down the street, so it was the ultimate choice.

It occurs to me that I’m leaving tomorrow.

Tomorrow.

I’m headed to Cartagena to find Allan and Lucy for the first time since the beginning of the trip. I feel like a different person. I feel detached, in a way. What happened in Mancora has burrowed its way into me, and the anger and resentment that I hold towards myself spews out onto other people. I am disappointed that Allan wasn’t there for me, though I never asked him to be.

I look at the television. “Does anyone actually know what’s going on in this thing?”

Natasha looks up, piece of pizza rotating slowly.

“Ah, yeah yeah. His mate is a werewolf and he has sex with his mum. Also there’s this weird girl with a droopy eye whose face turns blue when you touch it... Oh yeah, and this guy saw a dragon as well.”

I look at her, quizzically.

“No but seriously, what is happening?” I ask, pushing the pizza box away, laughing.

She starts to giggle. “Look, the moon is in the alley, okay?” We erupt into laughter and the next thing I know, I’m furiously inhaling my last bump of cocaine before I jump in a car on the way to the airport.

Drake gives me a wide hug and I hop into the cab, trying to speak Spanish, but I’m talking too fast, and he’s shaking his head. Eventually, I ask him, sweatily, if we’re going in the right direction. It feels like we’ve turned around. My palms are sweaty, and my I can hear my heart in my ears.

“We go back.” Is all he can say in English, and I don’t understand his Spanish for about three explanations until I realise he’s telling me that I left my passport and wallet back at the hostel and Drake has told him to come back and get them.

By the time he shoves my stuff at me through the window of the cab, I’m already late. “Go quickly! Otherwise they’ll know how fucked you are!” he laughs, but it freaks me out, and I have visions of that one time I smuggled cocaine into Ecuador not long ago and if I get caught in Colombia I am well and truly fucked.

Somehow, I pass through the gates. A few people in the line for the check in look at me sideways, or so I think, I’m so high I can’t tell the difference between paranoia and general instinct. I manage to smuggle my huge second bag onto the plane, much to the discord of the other passengers, I got it through all gates though, all five of them. Swapping the bag from one side to the other, each time I move through a gate.

I’m sure my pupils are the size of dinner plates. I get into my seat without looking at any of the stewardesses.

I'm about three sheets to the wind, maybe four, but I've managed to ask in Spanish, appropriately, whether I can have a beer.

I mean it is six in the morning so there was every chance that she would say 'no', but she didn't.

She says 'in five minutes', which is basically the magic words, but five minutes too late.

I have realised that I'm going to rock up at Angel and Shaina’s pretty drunk, but that's not really a problem, I guess.

That being said I've literally written a bunch inane drivel that doesn't make any sense at all in my last note piece so I can only hope for the best, and for beer, obviously.

“Sinco minut” turns to “diez minut” and I'm still wondering where my fucking beer is. Thinking about calling the air hostess, but worried about seeming so keen that they say no to my beer request. Within a minute they're rolling their trolley down the isle. Bringing mercilessly slowly, my beer. Every second seems to etch itself across my soul and the cocaine pumping through me exceeds time and space. Wow, I have had a lot of cocaine. I think we got into about five bags, and I can’t remember how or why because the last thing I can think of is the girl with the blue face and the moon in the alley and the size of my hangover.

I can see they have a beer perched on the top of the tray. I'm pretty sure it's for me; the one I asked for. They are rapidly approaching and I think about the state I want to arrive in.

Maybe I want to be drunk today.

Some other people have ordered beers.

They have had to get more from the cold fridge at the back of the plane.

They hand me my beer. I think "I've made it", I successfully caught a plane when I'm a million miles from sober. I also am pretty happy that by the time I finish my (second) beer we will have landed.

Just at the time they talk about landing I ask for another beer. The lady doesn't even bother asking me to finish it quickly because I've just suckled a cerveza in seven minutes. I've been counting, had she? Well, yes.

But she's also got the most ridiculous face paint on, for Halloween, so she looks at me disparately from her tiger painted, somewhat pitiful face.

She must either think I'm terrified of flying, or correctly, that I am high as a fucking kite trying to fight off the oncoming existential I may have once whatever the coke was mixed with wears off.

It's an hour flight. You're in the air, and then you're not.

I’ve never landed with a beer in my hand, and even as people around me are unbuckling themselves, I’m still cradling it like a newborn.

This has been the easiest flight I’ve ever had, and I have a moment of terror that the plane might blow up at any point because things can’t be this easy.

I shuffle off the plane and am blindsided by the incomprehensible heat. It is so thick I am gulping at air, feeling like it is never going to go in.

I wait for my bag to come off the belt, and drag all three of my bags and all the layers of the clothing I’ve removed in the onslaught of heat out to the taxi rank.

I push all of my things into the back seat, but something is missing. My rainbow jacket. I had it just a second ago.

I pull my things out of the car and head back inside, frantically checking every step that I had taken before the conveyor belt.

There is no sign of it, but I spent the next hour in confusion wandering around the airport asking confused vendors if they’ve seen it. I’ve never been so attached to an item of clothing before, and it feels as if someone has abducted my child.

It’s a small airport, so after three rounds of looking I am forced to confront the fact that someone has in fact, stolen it. The thought punctures an artery of emotion in me and if I wasn’t still balls deep in whatever it is that is keeping me high I would start to cry huge, sweaty tears. Why the fuck does a person in Cartagena, the hottest place on Earth, have need for a jacket?

As I fold myself into the air conditioning of a taxi after an exhausted search, I start to feel the dread of what I have lost settle over me. All the pieces of new baggage I now carry with me, because every action takes up a little piece of your psychic space, and right now, I am carrying a heavy cargo.

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topinforma · 8 years ago

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New Post has been published on Mortgage News

New Post has been published on http://bit.ly/2pCtSZb

Husband and wife disagree on how to spend an inheritance. Time to call in help

Dear Liz: My wife and I own a home with $61,000 left on the mortgage. I have a 401(k) with about $30,000 in it and she has a pension plan. We are both in our 50s. We stand to inherit around $180,000 in cash and a condo worth about $250,000 from her mother, who is dying. We have no other debt. I want to use the cash to pay off the mortgage, then stick about $100,000 in a retirement account, then remodel the condo and rent it out. My wife wants to sell the condo because of negative memories and bank the money to use for the kids’ college fund in a couple of years.

My argument is that with our regular income, plus the burden of the mortgage lifted, plus the monthly rental, we should be able to fund college costs on an ongoing basis. But if we liquidate, then in six to eight years we will have no college fund left, no condo and no additional income stream. In addition to all of this, I have home repair and remodeling skills (I remodeled our bathroom, new plumbing, new tub, etc. by myself). She thinks I’ve got too much on my plate already (I own my own tech consulting business). My counter is I can hire a property management firm if need be. What do you think?

Answer: It’s possible, but unlikely, that you will inherit from your mother-in-law. She probably will leave her money and condo to her daughter, who can (and in many cases should) keep the assets as separate property. Ultimately, your wife will make the decisions on what to do with her inheritance.

Being a landlord, even with the help of a good property management company, is not for everyone. Tenants can be demanding, destructive and litigious. Remodeling, repairs and maintenance can get expensive. Although you may be proud of your do-it-yourself skills, your wife is probably right to question how much time you’ll be able to devote to this property when you’re running your own business. Perhaps that bathroom took a lot longer than you expected, and she realizes that similar delays with the condo could mean months of expenses before she’d receive any rental income. Being a landlord may just be more stress than she wants to inflict on herself and on your marriage.

Tina Orem

If you made a mistake on your tax return and didn’t realize it until after the filing deadline, congratulations — you’re human. In the 2015 tax year alone, the Internal Revenue Service sent 1.6 million notices to taxpayers for 2.1 million math errors on their returns.

The good news is that if you…

(Tina Orem)

Fortunately, she could generate an income stream by investing the money instead. Stocks and bonds won’t call her in the middle of the night, demanding that their toilets be fixed, and a well-diversified portfolio probably will earn a better return over time than real estate. Using at least some of the money to offset college costs could be another smart move. A fee-only financial planner can help her sort through her options, including determining how much college is likely to cost and how much of it she wants to pay.

You may want to consult the planner as well. If you’re in your 50s, you should have at least six times your income saved in that 401(k) according to Fidelity Investments, which has developed handy metrics for retirement readiness. Given how far behind you are, you probably should focus more on generating income that can be stowed into retirement funds rather than on burnishing your plumbing skills.

How to improve your FICO score

Dear Liz: My FICO score is just under 800. The reason given that it is not higher is that I don’t have any non-mortgage leases. What would be the cheapest way to remedy this without buying something expensive?

Answer: When you get your credit scores, you may be given sometimes-vague reasons for why they’re not higher or lower. The “reason code” you saw probably said something like “no recent non-mortgage balance information.” What that means is that you haven’t been using revolving accounts such as credit cards. To get higher scores, you’d need to dust off your plastic and use it once in a while. (You don’t need to carry a balance to get or keep good scores, however. You can and should pay credit card balances in full each month.)

Any improvement in your scores is likely to be modest, however. Your numbers are already high and the factor known as “mix of credit” — which means responsibly using both revolving and installment accounts — accounts for just 10% of your FICO scores. Plus, there’s no real point in having scores over 800, other than to brag about them. Once your scores exceed 760 or so, you’re already eligible for the best rates and terms.

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Take a 360-degree tour under the streets of downtown Los Angeles. President Trump prepares for his first overseas trip. TV advertising is in a state of ‘total upheaval.’ The killing of a mother and daughter in Long Beach has baffled investigators.

Credits: Getty / Rick Loomis / KTLA / Mel Melcon / Luis Sinco

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Credits: Getty / Rick Loomis / KTLA / Mel Melcon / Luis Sinco

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Credits: Associated Press / Gary Coronado / Getty / KTLA / Mel Melcon / Jessica Meyers / Santa Cruz Memorial

Liz Weston, certified financial planner, is a personal finance columnist for NerdWallet. Questions may be sent to her at 3940 Laurel Canyon, No. 238, Studio City, CA 91604, or by using the “Contact” form at asklizweston.com. Distributed by No More Red Inc.