#mpli

[zishuge]

Today I gave myself feels thinking about Fang Duobing, Di Feisheng, and Hulijing moving on and aging in a world without Li Lianhua. A world where Li Lianhua isn't there — but then again, he is there, in Lianhualou, and in the townspeople who flock to it, bearing gifts for the miracle doctor who once saved a life, fixed a roof, exposed a conman, comforted a child. Young Fang Duobing used to want to know every little detail about his hero, Li Xiangyi. Now Fang Duobing wants to know every detail about his beloved friend, Li Lianhua. The years pass and fewer people come. But if they remember him, Li Lianhua lives on.

(long post, half meta, half fic, bittersweet)

They travel together, with Hulijing, in Lianhualou. Fang Duobing has nothing better to do, so he takes up detective work again. Di Feisheng has nothing better to do, so he comes along. Everywhere they go, they look for Li Lianhua. And in their journeys, it seems like everywhere they go, someone is talking about Li Xiangyi. Li Xiangyi, who had always been something of a legend, but ever since his reappearance and subsequent (re)disappearance, has seemingly been elevated into something approaching godhood.

you should've seen him, people say, floating across the rooftops in red, cold and beautiful, like an avenging hero out of some novel. wasn't he dead? no — of course he wasn't, li xiangyi would never have been so easily killed. but it was bicha poison, i heard nobody could survive bicha poison. yes, he was definitely dead, and came back to life through dark magic. no, he'd been alive the whole time, just held captive by di feisheng. he tried to kill his shixiong ten years ago and failed, and came back to finish the job. no, his shixiong tried to kill the emperor and li xiangyi came to stop him. the emperor? impossible. yes — don't you know, li xiangyi is the emperor's long-lost son?

All of it only amuses Di Feisheng, but it irks Fang Duobing. The same Fang Duobing, who, when he was younger, would've hungered for every little detail about Li Xiangyi and begged to hear more, now finds it maddening to listen to these strangers talk about him as if they knew him. The world might have known Li Xiangyi, but it had never known Li Lianhua.

Li Lianhua, who could wield Shaoshi like it was a natural extension of his arm, but regularly cut his fingers clumsily slicing radishes and onions. Li Lianhua, who would invariably try to shrug off an attack of bicha poison, but yelped and jumped back from hot oil splatters in the kitchen like a child. Li Lianhua, who frowned when a passing carriage splashed mud onto his robes, but knelt carelessly into the dirt and grass to play with Hulijing.

None of them knew any of that.

But as Fang Duobing and Di Feisheng continue their travels, they begin to encounter other people as well. People who come running when they see Lianhualou in the distance tottering their way. People who come bearing gifts — a woman looking for the shenyi who had helped her with her back pain and also exposed the con artist who had tried to trick her daughter into marriage. A young man coming to thank the doctor who had given his father herbs for stress while uncovering the corrupt official who had falsely accused him of theft. An elderly couple looking for the young man who had helped them thatch their roof before a rainstorm and had given them some medicinal cream before he left. (One middle-aged man with a club, looking for the wangba quack doctor who had exposed his infidelity to his wife — he had left after one look at Di Feisheng, standing silently in the doorway with his arms folded across his chest and dao strapped across his back.) People who greet Hulijing like an old friend.

Fang Duobing listens eagerly to every story they tell him, and in return, he tells them about his brilliant, kind, exasperating friend. Di Feisheng rolls his eyes every time, but Fang Duobing notices he never walks away either. They don't talk about it. But it’s as if Li Lianhua returns, however briefly, during those visits; in those moments, Fang Duobing can almost see him standing there, bending down to pet Hulijing alongside these old friends as she grins her little doggy grin and wags her tail. She escorts their guests to the door, and sits in the doorway after they leave, looking out at the world as though waiting. He doesn't ask if Di Feisheng can see him too. They sit and share wine after these visits, and eat the fruit that the visitors bring, until Di Feisheng can stand the heavy silence no longer and pushes Fang Duobing outside to spar. Hulijing follows faithfully, as always.

(fang duobing had brought home a puppy, once. he can't remember where he found it, but he remembers that he had held it in his lap in his wheelchair, eager to show it to his uncle before taking it home to his mother. his uncle had glared, and told him that dogs were only useful to guard the house, and tianji manor already had guards, human ones, and that fang duobing would do better to focus on his swordplay rather than waste time on such useless and frivolous things. he had taken the puppy away and fang duobing had never seen it again. it wasn't until those blurry months as he rode across the countryside looking for li lianhua, hulijing trotting along ever so loyally at his side, that he realized this was just another way that shan gudao and li xiangyi were opposites.)

The years pass, and there are fewer and fewer people who come. One day Fang Duobing wakes up with the unbearable realization that he is now older than Li Lianhua had ever been, would ever be, and is unable to get out of bed for a good half a shichen. Di Feisheng leaves him be.

The years pass, and Di Feisheng grows older too. There are lines on his face, snowy white beginning to thread through his jet-black hair. Fang Duobing wants very much to tease him about it, but the words catch in his throat when he looks too closely at the signs of time on Di Feisheng's face. What a precious and altogether rare thing it is, to age.

The years pass, and Hulijing grows older too. Fang Duobing finds that more and more often, Hulijing can no longer keep up with him when he goes riding. He stops going riding. She gets cold more easily now too, and more and more often Fang Duobing wakes in the morning with Hulijing curled up under the covers next to him, her wet nose shoved into his armpit. He holds her close and thinks about Li Lianhua shivering in his arms.

--------------------

It's been nearly a year since their last visitor, but today there is an old man. He comes in the morning, bringing a basket of plums. A long time ago, he says, a young man who lived here saved my life. I had been poisoned, he says, by my son who wanted my money and my lands. The doctors said there was no cure. But then the young man came and performed a miracle. He saved my life. He saved my life.

Fang Duobing knows it was no miracle that saved him. He asks for the old man's hand and it is given readily, albeit bemusedly. He presses his fingers to the inside of the man's wrist, and is greeted with a whisper-faint, gentle thrum of yangzhouman — a soft hello from a much-beloved friend. You fool, he thinks dazedly, caught somewhere between overwhelmed that here is someone, inside whom a piece of Li Lianhua lives on, and so bitterly angry. What had it cost? Some hours, days, weeks? He doesn't let himself think of what another week might have afforded them in those wild final days, in their desperate search for a cure. Fang Duobing gives the old man back his hand and blinks back the sting of tears. He cannot talk about Li Lianhua today. He apologizes and tells him that the man he is looking for is traveling and won't be back for a few days, but that Fang-mou will pass on the message. Before he leaves, the man leans down to rub at Hulijing's ear. My old friend, he says, like me, you, too, are truly old now.

After the man leaves, Fang Duobing folds himself into a sit on the floor of Lianhualou and gathers Hulijing into his arms. Gently — her joints are stiff now, and he can't haul her around, can't roughhouse with her the way he used to. Di Feisheng comes down the stairs from where he had been listening; he stands behind Fang Duobing and places a warm, steady hand on his shoulder. At the edge of his vision, near the door, Fang Duobing can see the hazy hem of green robes. If he looks up, he wonders brokenly, what would he see? The face of a man forever frozen in youth? Or a face lined with age, snowy white beginning to thread through jet-black hair? He suddenly finds that he cannot bear to find out.

Fang Duobing knows. He knows that the myth and the outlandish rumors about proud, arrogant, beautiful Li Xiangyi will never die. But he also knows that one day, there will be no one else who comes to Lianhualou; no one left who remembers gentle, sly, infuriating Li Lianhua. One day, the old man will pass on and the piece of Li Lianhua that he carries with him will fade as well. And one day… Fang Duobing presses his forehead against the soft fur of Hulijing's neck where it has gone white and thin with age. He closes his eyes and breathes.

--------------------

Years and years and years later, Fang Duobing is awakened from where he has fallen into a light doze reading in his chair by a soft knock on the door. There is a woman standing outside, holding a small basket of pears. I think I remember this building, she says. I must've only been six years old, but I had run off and lost my parents. I fell down in the street and skinned my knees. A kind gege helped me and gave me a piece of candy. He said he would walk me home but I said I didn't know whether I should tell him where I lived. He laughed and asked if it would help if I knew where he lived. He pointed to the most fantastical and wild house I had ever seen. I think it was this place. Xiansheng, does he live here? Who was he? Do you know him?

Fang Duobing smiles and invites her inside. On the bed, the small white dog that Di Feisheng has named, ridiculously, Baigujing, raises her head and thumps her tail a few times in hello. Di Feisheng looks up from where he is writing a letter at the table. Fang Duobing leads the woman over and waves at her to sit down. He sits across from her, ignoring Di Feisheng's eyeroll, and offers her a piece of candy. He always keeps candy around. Fang Duobing smiles once more and says, if you'd like to know — there is so much I would like to tell you.

[psychicmoth]

'dunno man things just happened'

[taichi-x-koushiro]

{D I G I M O N} Adventure {S e r i e s} x {T u m b l r} T{e}xt Posts M e m e ~ Koushiro{u} x Taichi {KouTai}

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[themetalvirus]

blaze gay little fire kitty real

[jobean12-blog]

Wrangled

Pairing: Joel Miller x reader (Cowboy/Neighbor AU)

Word Count: 2,214

Summary: There’s a new Cowboy in town and as much as your father-who is too old fashioned and a bit of an asshole- hates to admit it, he needs some help on the farm, so when Joel starts coming around you can’t help but fall for him. 

Author’s Note: The trailer for Pedro’s new film ‘Strange Way of Life’ has sparked some inspo Cowboy style! It’s my first time writing this AU so forgive me for any silly mistakes or cliche stuff. I’m really looking forward to this film! Thank you all so much for reading and much love always! ❤️❤️❤️Divider by my sweet Daisy, thank you! @firefly-graphics 🥰

Warnings: some soft fluffy moments, tension, flirting, Joel being entirely too s-e-x-y and i-mpli-ed s-e-x-y times 

Joel Miller Masterlist

The full glasses of lemonade wobble precariously on the tray as you walk toward the barn, the sweltering sun making droplets of sweat roll down your back.

“There you are,” your father says as you come around the building.

The sound of hooves stomping the dirt drowns out your response as Joel approaches on his horse. He stops just beside you, tugging gently on the reins before he swings one long leg over and slides off.

Joel immediately turns your way, his eyes discreetly sweeping down your body. He tips his hat in greeting before giving your father a short nod.

You hand Joel a glass first, his rough fingers brushing yours and causing a shiver to shoot down your spine despite the early morning heat.

“Looks like I got here just in time,” he drawls. “Thanks darlin’.”

“Sure is a hot one,” your father states as he takes his glass.

You nod in agreement but keep your eyes on Joel, watching intently as he drinks down the cool lemonade.

He takes a long sip, tipping his head back so you can see the muscles in his neck move with every swallow. A bead of sweat rolls along his temple, getting lost in the salt and pepper of his beard before it traces the curve of his jaw and slides down the column of his neck.

Your tongue darts out to trace your lips and his eyes follow the movement, a dark heat simmering behind his warm brown irises.

“I’ve got to go into town and look for some parts for these machines,” you father states, effectively breaking the tension between you and Joel. “I won’t be back ‘til lunch time.”

“Ok,” you say quietly.

“Now I want you to listen to Joel here,” your father continues. “He’s gonna continue workin’ and anything he needs you best be there to git it done.”

“Of course,” you agree with a hard swallow.

“I’m sure we’ll manage just fine,” Joel murmurs and you can feel his eyes on you.

After speaking with Joel about parts and machinery your father goes back to the house and drives away in his truck, leaving you standing alone with Joel.

“You’re lookin’ as pretty as a peach darlin’.”

You eyes fall to your feet but you whisper, “you’re welcome to look.”

Calloused fingertips press under your chin and he lifts your gaze.

“Is that so?” he asks, taking a step closer.

Your breath catches at the look in his eyes, desperate with barely contained desire.

His thumb moves to brush across your lips and your eyelashes flutter against your cheeks. You reach up with a trembling hand and wrap your fingers around his thick wrist as best you can, holding on to steady yourself.

“Is there anything else I can do for you?” you breathe out.

“I’d love another glass of your delicious lemonade darlin’. Can’t seem to quench my thirst today.”

Your eyes open wide and you stare at him before releasing his wrist and practically running up the hill back to the farmhouse.

When you return with a fresh glass of lemonade, Joel is no longer standing outside the barn.

You call his name but there’s no answer so you walk into the cool shade of the barn and search for him.

Then you hear a horse snort and grunt and spot Joel at the far back stable, racking up Whiskey to the post. You approach slowly and Joel stands, giving Whiskey a pat before he takes the glass you’re holding out.

He winks and tips his hat before drinking the whole glass in one long sip. He smacks his lips and places the glass down on a bale of hay.

You gently pat Whiskey on his nose, the horse whinnying and slowly shaking his head. When you feel the weight of Joel’s gaze you cut your eyes to him.

“You’re staring,” you state.

“I like what I see,” he answers as he saunters closer.

You lower your lashes and turn your attention back to the horse but when you feel the heat of his body at your back it sends goosebumps exploding over your skin.

“What are you doin’ all day alone in that house?” he asks, his lips a whisper along the shell of your ear.  

He places a soft kiss just under your ear before sliding his nose down your neck with a deep inhale. Your skin tingles at the sensation and you crane your head to the side with a release of breath.

“Well?” he repeats, moving away so you can turn to face him.

“Nothin’ really,” you say with a shrug. “Except chores and lots of ‘em.”

He moves closer, his long fingers tugging at the red bandana around his neck as he pulls it free and wipes the back of his neck. Your eyes fall to the open buttons of his shirt, his tanned skin no longer obscured by the fabric.

“I’m sure I can keep ya’ busy with somethin’ other than chores this mornin’ darlin’.”

You tilt your head back and meet his eyes, your lips parted with your heavy breathing.

His heated gaze pins you in place as much as his body does when he closes the distance and presses you against the wall.

“So soft,” he murmurs as his hand grazes the curve of your waist.

You tentatively place your hands on his hard chest, spreading your fingers out and testing the feel of him.

They creep higher, dancing over his broad shoulders before wrapping around his neck.

You can feel how much he wants you and when his arms pull you closer, his hands gripping you tightly, he dips his head to press his lips to yours.

There’s no hesitation, no faltering, when he kisses you and there’s no doubt he’s in control. Your lips part for him and he deepens the kiss as his hands slide down to cup your ass, tugging you impossibly closer. You flex your hips against his and he makes a low, rough sound in his throat.

He pulls away abruptly and leans his forehead to yours, his warm breath caressing your skin as he tries to catch his breath.

When he carefully raises his hand to cup your cheek, you lean into his touch but then his fingers trail down the side of your neck, sliding lower until he’s toying with the buttons of your dress and you tremble with a sigh of his name.

“You’re trouble darlin’,” he croons, then his hand settles at the back your neck and he drags you in for another heated and desperate kiss.

His hands move over your body, stroking and teasing every inch of bare skin he can find. His mouth is warm and wet at your throat and then lower, tracing the outline of your collarbone before lingering at the swell of your breasts.

He lifts his head and brushes his lips to yours. “You taste even better than you look darlin’. And I would’ve sworn that was impossible.”

With his eyes on yours he slides his hand between your breasts, the motion torturously slow, until he meets the hem of your dress. He teases the fabric, dancing his fingers over your knee before drawing small circles along your inner thigh.

You press your body closer, your fingers sliding back down to his chest to grip his shirt and steady yourself.

His fingers move higher, his skin calloused and warm and scraping against your softness in perfect balance.

Your legs fall open and he smiles against your lips, keeping them just a whisper away as his fingers gently brush over your damp panties.

But at the feel of you so wet and ready he growls and nibbles your bottom lip and you don’t have a chance to suck in another breath before his mouth is on yours.  

His body is hard and uncompromising as the wall behind you and when he pulls at the fabric that rests on your hips you arch into him, tugging hard on his shirt.

He eases away from you and you nearly go with him. His hat is still on but it’s tipped precariously back and he stares as he slowly slides your panties down your legs.

The sound of an engine startles you both and before you can protest he tugs the fabric from your foot and grins before neatly folding it and sliding it into the back pocket of his jeans.

Your mouth parts in a gasp but you quickly straighten, pulling at your dress and smoothing your hands over yourself.

“Is lunch ready?” your father bellows from the barn door.

Joel steps away and you rush around him before your father sees you.

“Will be in just a few,” you answer as you pretend to be busy with the water pail.

“Ready for somethin’ to eat?” he asks Joel when he sees him.

“Sure am,” Joel replies. “Starved in fact.”

His eyes swing to you and they sparkle as the corner of his mouth lifts into a promising smirk.

You’re still plating the food when both men walk through the door and Joel removes his hat, hanging it on the rack to the side.  After washing up they sit and chat while you serve them lunch.

“Looks amazin’,” Joel raves as he takes a whiff of the steaming food.

“Girl knows how to cook a meal,” your father mutters through a mouthful.

“Aren’t you gonna join us?” Joel asks, giving you an expectant look.

“Oh I don’t usually…” you start to explain but your father interrupts.

“Now don’t be rude honey. Sit. Have somethin’ to eat,” he grumbles.

“Ok,” you say quietly and make yourself a plate.

As you approach the table Joel stands and pulls out the chair next to him, smiling and waiting for you to sit.

With wide eyes you give him a shaky smile in return with a quiet thanks.

The men continue to talk about the new parts and what else needs to be done on the farm and all the while you try to concentrate on the food in front of you but it’s almost impossible when you feel Joel’s warm hand settle on your thigh under the table.

His gently massages your leg, never missing a beat in the conversation and even doing his best to bring you into it.

“Do you like to ride?” Joel asks as he turns to face you.

You whip your head in his direction, giving him a confused look since you didn’t even know they had been talking about the horses, Joel’s touch too distracting.

“Ride?” you squeak.

“What’s going on wit you?” your father rumbles. “Didn’t you understand…?”

“It’s fine,” Joel says placatingly as he glares at your father then turns to you.

“Do you enjoy riding the horses?” he asks again softly.

“Yes. I love to. But I don’t often have much time to do it,” you say politely.

“She’s busy with her chores,” your father butts in and you clamp your mouth shut.

Joel gives your thigh a squeeze and you can see his teeth grind under the hard clench of his jaw.

Before anyone can say another word your father’s phone rings. He answers it with a gruff hello and stands from the table, walking out the front door and onto the porch.

“You know how hard it is to sit here and listen to him talk to you like that?” Joel seethes, bringing his lips close to your ear. “I have a right mind to knock him outta the chair.”

Even though his words are sweet his intent is predatory as his fingers move higher, your bare skin warm and silky.

“And don’t you worry darlin’, I’m gonna take you for the best ride of your life.”

“Joel,” you whimper.

“Mm, what’s the matter darlin’? You makin’ a mess of that chair?”  

The sound of the door makes you jump and your father pins you with a warning glare.

Joel’s hand stills but he doesn’t remove it.  

“I’ve gotta run back to town to pick something up. Should be back within the hour,” your father says to Joel.

“Make sure that pie is still warm for me when I get back,” he then says to you before stomping out the door.

Once you hear the gravel crunch under the tires of his pickup truck you fly from the chair, turning and leaning on the counter as you stare at Joel, your chest rising and falling rapidly.

He stands and walks toward you, his steps purposeful until he has you caged against the counter with his large body.

“Where are you runnin’ off to darlin’?”

“We can’t get caught,” you whisper. “He’ll kill you.”

“You don’t have to worry about me,” Joel simpers. “I can handle it.”

You open your mouth to protest but he firmly presses a finger to your lips.

“What I can’t handle,” he starts as he drops his finger and slides it down your chest and over your stomach, “is standing here another minute and knowing you got nothin’ on under this dress.”

When his finger reaches the hem he hooks it under and slowly starts to lift the fabric.

“I have to feel you…taste you, before I lose my damn mind,” he murmurs.

@sstan-hoe @pedritosdarling @laineyreads @lorilane33 @justkinsey @beccablogsthings @blackwidownat2814​ @littleseasiren​

[homosexualworkaccount]

Chapters: 1/1

Rating: Teen Audiences and Up

Fandom: Mortal Kombat (Video games)

Relationship: Johnny Cage/Kenshi Takahashi

Characters: Takahashi Kenshi, Johnny Cage, Raiden (Mortal Kombat), Kung Lao, Liu Kang (mentioned), Mileena (Mentioned), Jackson “Jax” Briggs (mentioned), Tanya (mentioned)

Additional Tags: Sexual Tension, Blood kink (Kinda?), Canon-Typical ViolenceI, mplied Kung Lao/Raiden, I mean they are dating, just not explicitly stated, Pre-Relationship, Pre-Slash, Feelings Realization, Soft Kenshi Takahashi, towards the end anyway, Non-Graphic Violence, Johnny Cage being Johnny Cage, By that I mean insane, BAMF Johnny Cage, Strength Kink, sorta - Freeform, Kenshi’s just very attracted to Johnny’s fighting skills, Idiots in Love, Politics, Outworld (Mortal Kombat), Outworld Politics, Battle Scenes, Battle, Developing Relationship

Summary;

Johnny’s bloody grin stretches in mania as Tanok struggles, pushing as Tanok stumbles. His shirt tears at the shoulder in his opponents haste to do something, and buttons are shredded when Tanok tries something with his other hand.

Exposed skin is covered in veins of sticky blood, his neck flushed in a pretty red that goes down to his chest.

Kenshi has to cross his legs when his blood drops south. What the fuck, he thinks as Johnny’s shirt is completely torn and hangs on by what’s tucked into his belt, thighs tightening, what the fuck.

(Or, Kenshi realising he’s in love with Johnny through a gladiator battle when he has to fight for the trust of an Outworld colony. It’s more romantic than it sounds)

———

The Mortal Kombat brain rot got to me so have some Johnshi 🫡

[sweetlittlevampire]

SPRING BLOSSOMS

Final and fourth part in the "Seasons of Love" series, alongside Summer Rain, Autumn Wind, and Winter Lights

Rating: T | 14658 words | Wangxian

Established Relationship | Estranged Fathers | Domestic Fluff | Mild Angst | Angst with a Happy Ending | Happy Ending | Tooth-Rotting Fluff | Family IssuesI | mplied/Referenced SuicideI |mplied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism | Implied/Referenced Pet Death | Heart Disease | Rabbits | Podfic Welcome

“Lan Zhan, what’s wrong?” he asks. “Bad news? Is everything alright with Shushu?”

Lan Wangji tries to say something, but his voice fails him. When he finally manages to speak, he sounds hoarse.

“This letter arrived this morning,” he says. “It spelled my birth name on it, the one my mother gave me. I didn’t recognise the handwriting on it, so I set it aside to read it later."

Wei Wuxian is silent, giving Lan Wangji the time he needs to find his words.

“Wei Ying, this letter…it’s from my father.”

Or:

The story of how sometimes, even decades after something has happened, your past sneaks up on you when you're least expecting it.

[beforus-for-real-justice]

Mod Marsti Intro

♣~H♥︎ll♣ th♥︎r♥︎. I ♠︎m M♣d M♠︎rsti,~♦ ♣~And I ♠︎m h♥︎r♥︎ t♣ b♥︎ ♠︎ bit ♣f ♠︎ pl♠︎t♣ni♦ ♠︎uspi♦♥︎.~♦ ♣~Or, in simpl♥︎ t♥︎rms, M♠︎k♥︎ sur♥︎ this bl♣g d♣♥︎sn't g♣ t♣♣ f♠︎r ♣ut ♣f ♦♣ntr♣l.~♦ ♣~T♣ r♥︎pr♥︎s♥︎nt this, I h♠︎♦♥︎ m♠︎d♥︎ my quirk ♣n this bl♣g b♥︎ inspir♥︎d by th♥︎ qu♠︎dr♠︎nts.~♦ (c/v=♦, o=♣, e=♥︎, and a=♠︎)

♣~Rustbl♣♣d lik♥︎ my ♠︎♦♠︎t♠︎r.~♦ ♣~Th♥︎y/Th♥︎m, but i quit♥︎ fr♠︎nkly d♣n't gi♦♥︎ ♠︎ shit.~♦ ♣~A littl♥︎ und♥︎r 9 sw♥︎♥︎ps ♣ld.~♦ ♣~Culling st♠︎tus is... ♦♣mpli♦♠︎t♥︎d.~♦

♣~I h♣p♥︎ y♣u guys ♦♠︎n k♥︎♥︎p y♣urs♥︎l♦♥︎s in lin♥︎ s♣ I d♣n't h♠︎♦♥︎ t♣.~♦ ♣~Th♣ugh ♦♣nsid♥︎ring h♣w it's g♣n♥︎, th♠︎t's ♠︎ pip♥︎ dr♥︎♠︎m.~♦

♣~T♠︎lk t♣ y♣u l♠︎t♥︎r.~♦

[writerwithoutwritinghand]

Quick! Who is your Most and Least favorite of your fellow rabbits? 3..2..1.. GO!!!

c mpli ca t d quest on.

[vinya06]

Look guys.. International events got bigger prices but ya all have no idea how hard the competition in the Philippines are..

Those are 3 teams simultaneously Winning M series. 3 different teams representing PH.. and RSG also won MPLi.. So no offense if ya all disappointed with your local teams.. (u shouldn't) They are very strong.. But we are the most competitive madafakas in there..

Ph competition MPLPH is heavier and more hellish.. That's a fact..

[beeanz]

Check out this listing I just added to my Poshmark closet: ASICS WOMEN'S SNEAKERS AMPLI-FOAM GEL-EXCITE 6 GUC SIZE 9.

[latestnewsbysportstiger]

Mobile Legends ONE Esports MPL Invitational 2023: Dates, Format, Streaming and More

The ONE Esports MPL Invitational (MPLI) 2023 is a Mobile Legends competition that is organised by ONE Esports and MOONTON Games for the fourth successive year.

Read More: Mobile Legends MPL Invitational 2023

The top teams from Singapore, Malaysia, the Philippines, Cambodia, and the Philippines will compete in the online event. The offline MPLI tournament will be hosted for the first time this year.

The ONE Esports social media platforms, including Facebook, TikTok, Twitch, Twitter, and YouTube, will live stream the tournament. The event will be broadcast in English, Tagalog, Bahasa Indonesia, Bahasa Melayu, and Khmer.

[mayflorsblog]

Why You Don’t Need Mortgage Life Insurance

Mortgage life insurance is a special type of insurance policy offered by banks that are affiliated with lenders and by independent insurance companies. But it’s not like other life insurance policies. Rather than paying out a death benefit to your beneficiaries after you die as traditional life insurance does, mortgage life insurance only pays off a mortgage when the borrower dies as long as the loan still exists. This is a big benefit to your heirs if you die and leave behind a balance on your mortgage. But if there’s no mortgage, there’s no payoff.

One thing to keep in mind: don’t confuse mortgage life insurance with mortgage insurance. The latter is private insurance that must be taken out as a condition of some conventional mortgages. While mortgage life insurance can protect you — the borrower — and their heirs, mortgage insurance protects the lender if the mortgagor isn’t able to fulfill their financial obligations. Premiums are either paid separately or are rolled into the borrower’s regular monthly mortgage payment.

Mortgage life insurance is not mortgage insurance — the latter protects the lender in case the borrower defaults on their mortgage loan for any reason.

Once you’ve closed on your loan, be on the lookout for regular mailouts and phone calls trying to sell you a mortgage life insurance policy. These solicitations are often disguised as official requests from mortgage lenders.

Types of Mortgage Life Insurance

Mortgage life insurance policies — also called mortgage protection life insurance or mortgage protection insurance policies — come in two basic forms. The first one is a declining payout policy, where the policy size decreases proportionally as the mortgage loan drops. Therefore, the closer it is to zero, the payout drops, too. The other type of mortgage life insurance is called level term insurance. With this kind of policy, the payout doesn’t decrease.

Mortgage Life Insurance Benefits

Mortgage life insurance may benefit people who don’t qualify for term life insurance because of poor health since this kind of policy is typically sold without underwriting. But like any other policy, candidates should seek quotes from several companies and check each firm’s financial strength rating with AM Best, a rating company that ranks insurers with letter grades.1

Those who want to avoid declining-payout policies should opt for no-medical-exam term policies with level premiums and level death benefits. Although these policies cost more and may offer lower coverage than term policies that review medical histories and conduct physical exams, at least they’ll pay the same benefit, whether you die 10 or 25 years into your mortgage.

Another possibility is to acquire a policy that offers more coverage for a cheaper price earlier in your mortgage term. Once you’ve paid down the principal significantly, consider switching to a guaranteed issue term policy.

Some policies may return your premiums if you never file a claim after you pay off your mortgage. However, the premiums returned to you will likely be worth far less, as inflation erodes their value. Plus, you will have likely squandered the chance to invest any money you would have saved, had you purchased cheaper term life insurance.

#areteautomation #lifehealthadvisors

Credits to: Andrew Blumenthal

Date Posted: January 13, 2022

Source: https:https://www.investopedia.com/mortgage/insurance/why-you-dont-need-mpli/

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[123berita]

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