overandoutwatch  asked:

Jesse McCree for that headcanon thing

- Drinks milk straight from the jug, lets it drip down into his beard and could give two shits
- Really loves kisses, REALLY, REALLY loves kisses. Hanzo is his lil Snookum-Wookum and gets AAAAAALL his kisses.
- He’s a great kisser… God, it’s not deadly or godly, but he’s gentle and sweet, beatific- to be honest.
- Wears flannels in 90 degree weather.
- Thinks the only song that is perfect in the ‘describes me best’ category is “Your Man” by Josh Turner.
- He has belt buckles from every little truck stop he’s ever been to.
- Sleeps like an… Angel. A very hungover and dirty angel. He looks so peaceful, but he’s drooling and he has two limbs hanging off the bed, at LEAST.
- “Is it 3 yet? Yeah? Alright where’s the beer.”
- dadbod with a subtle beer belly, skin softer than a baby, and softer (feel) than a mother’s bosom. (We say that here in Downriver and it’s mostly country folk)
- loves getting massages from his lover, contact in general, he’ll hold your hand out of nowhere. But he’s so smooth about it, and if you look at him, he usually winks with a little gritty smile.

Pride & Humility

Words by Johanna Loh

Remember those typical cartoons with the angel hovering beatifically above one shoulder and the devil perched cheekily on the other? The angel always insists upon doing the right thing, whereas the devil tries his best to undermine all the angel’s efforts. More often than not, most cartoon characters end up going on the side of the devil. It’s more self-satisfying, more fun, more alluring.

Sometimes, I feel like the battle between humility and pride can be very similar. It can feel as if my pride tugs me one way, and that its voice is far louder than the gentleness of humility. Rash words unleashed in an argument, wrong judgements passed far too quickly, and a burning desire to demonstrate that I’m better than anyone else around me… All too often, my pride has caused me to say or do something that cannot be taken back.

From experience, the litmus test of humility often demonstrates itself in relationships – friends, family and loved ones. It can be so easy to assert our personal agendas under the pretext of caring for someone else (false humility). It is also possible to continually throw our own weight around and act like we are more important than everyone else. I’ll never forget one “litmus test” moment when one of my closest friends a few years ago, told me I was selfish and cared only for myself. The initial response I had was mild shock, followed by anger and denial. I cannot remember my exact response, but I do remember hanging up the phone in frustration.

Only when we value other people above ourselves, then do we experience what it means to really serve others in love.

For a long while afterwards, I sat down and reflected. And concluded that there was truth in that statement. Without realizing it, I had let my pride take over. To a certain extent, it was “me, myself and I”. It was a hard realization to understand more thoroughly the uglier side of my personality- stubborn, overly self-obsessed and far from humble. Since then, accountability, good role models and self-checks have helped considerably to knock out (hopefully) a considerable amount of pride, and knock in some humility instead.

Pride. Self. Me. Mine. I, I, I.

Humility. You. Them. Us. Others.

Philippians 2:3-4 says, “Do nothing from rivalry or conceit, but in humility count others more significant than yourselves. Let each of you look not only to his own interests, but also to the interests of others.”

We often talk about love, justice and peace. We envision bright futures by the sides of our loved ones. But unless we actively embrace and practice a culture of humility, the vision merely remains a vision. Only when we value other people above ourselves, then do we experience what it means to really serve others in love. Far from being a doormat, elevating others above ourselves helps to change our perspective from being me-focused to others-focused. We slowly learn how to give a little more. Love a little more. Encourage a little more. And sometimes the little extras, when done with humility, do make a big difference.

“They ascended higher and higher in the divine life, and lived in the enjoyment of the Beatific Vision being filled with that interior peace and tranquillity known and experienced only by those who understand the mysteries of the higher and divine life.”

- Zohar

The more clearly the soul sees the blessed face by grace and love, the more it longs to see it in its fullness. Notwithstanding that our Lord God lives in us, and is here with us; notwithstanding that he clasps and enfolds us in his tender love, never to leave us; notwithstanding that he is nearer to us than tongue and heart can think or tell, the fact remains that we shall never cease from sighs, complaints, or tears–or longing–until we see clearly his blessed face. In that precious, blessed sight, no grief can live, no blessing fail.

In this I saw reason for cheer and reason for sighing; cheer, in that our Lord and Maker is so near to us; he is in us, and we are in him, completely safe through his great goodness; sighing in that we are so spiritually blind and weighed down by our mortal flesh and murky sin that we cannot clearly see our Lord’s blessed face. No, and because of this murkiness we have difficulty in believing and trusting his great love and our complete safety. And therefore I say that we never cease from sighs and tears. Tears do not mean physical tears of the eye only, but also the inner weeping of the spirit. For the natural desire of the soul is so vast and immeasurable that were we to be given for our comfort and solace all the finest that God has made in heaven and earth, but could not see the beautiful and blessed face of himself, our sighs and spiritual tears would never cease until we saw the blessed countenance of our Maker. On the other hand, were we to be in the utmost pain that tongue and heart can think or tell, if then we could see his blessed face, none of this pain would distress us.

—  Julian of Norwich, Revelations of Divine Love

I’m at an age I guess where a certain tier of the most vicious power mongering bitches takes on beatific alternate (always public) personas–life coach, vegan mommy blogger, unlicensed “nutritionist”–and honestly no one manifests this reality more fully than Kourtney Kardashian. What do they want????

Those who attain to this beatific vision are unwilling to descend to human affairs; for their souls are ever hastening into the upper world where they desire to dwell.
—  Plato, (427 - 348 BCE) Greek Philosopher, founder of the Platonic School

anonymous asked:

can you please write a short thing about chrollo giving a kiss on phinx's cheek as a bd present? <3 <3

“Phinks?” a cool voice called out, breaking Phinks from his daze. “Could you come over here for a moment?”

He looked up and then tensed, Chrollo watching him from across the room. His latest book was held between his fingers, closed but for the single finger marking his spot. Phinks swallowed, suddenly nervous. What could Chrollo want from him? It must be important, if he was deigning to set aside his book to speak to him.

“Yeah, boss,” he dutifully replied, standing up and moving over to the ledge where Chrollo was perched. “Do you need something? I didn’t think we had anything going on today.”

Chrollo smiled beatifically up at him, crooking his finger for him to lean down. “We don’t, but I just remembered something,” he said, threading his fingers through Phinks’s shirt collar to pull him another few inches lower.

Phinks stopped breathing, his hands beginning to sweat. “What’d you remember, boss?” he managed, though he was shocked it didn’t come out as a squeak.

He jolted when Chrollo tilted his head up, kissing his cheek gently. Mind short-circuiting, Phinks could only stare at the spot past Chrollo’s ear, his eyes wide and his mouth no doubt gaping.

“I remembered it was your birthday. Happy birthday, Phinks,” Chrollo smiled, letting go of the collar so Phinks could stand back up.

It took at least a full thirty seconds to come back to the situation, his cheek burning where Chrollo’s lips had touched. Or maybe, his mind supplied unhelpfully, his face was just red from his embarrassment. Phinks looked to Chrollo, who was still smiling as perfect as could be, and managed a shaky smile of his own.

“Thank you boss,” he breathed.

He didn’t have the heart to tell him that his birthday was tomorrow. Maybe he’d get another kiss once he realized.

  • thirteen or fourteen-year-old in an obnoxious family at the science museum:*struggles with the giant bubble blower for several minutes*
  • my child:*blows a bubble on her first try*
  • teenager, petulantly:oh, well SHE can do it...
  • me, in my head:yes. yes she can. yes my brilliant beatific science daughter made the perfect bubble, yes she did. she is so competent, she turned the control wheel and pressed the fan button exactly right, absolutely, you are CORRECT, would you like some grapes? I'm afraid they're all sour :))))))))))))))))))

Harry and Louis are the Stevie and Lindsey of the mermaid-tattoo-era stadium-rock eye-contact game. Louis’ eyes are dark, intense, controlling, with a surly “damn your love, damn your life” edge. Harry’s eyes say “I hear the darkness you’re expressing and it’s important to me but my heart tells me to twirl right now,” so he twirls and touches his hair. The brooding look vs. the beatific twirl. When one of them gets happy, the other gets wistful. When one of them gets bitchy, the other gets sugary. I could watch them sing together for hours. I could probably watch them do laundry for hours. (I doubt they do laundry.)

16 Reasons One Direction Are on Top of the Stadium Rock Game
Boy band’s performance at New Jersey’s MetLife Stadium proves their supremacy
By Rob Sheffield
August 6, 2015

One of the most favorite article.


Taste of Cherry (1997, Abbas Kiarostami) comes to represent a beatific vision characterized by a sense of harmony and happiness that have been completely lacking throughout the film: ‘This epilogue’ - says the director - ‘is a representation of paradise. A paradise where the soldiers, instead of weapons, hold flowers in their hands.’ This interpretation has been adopted by some Iranian critics and scholars, who see various elements in the video epilogue that would seriously justify this allegorical interpretation, and place this atypical happy ending in the realm of a utopian renewal of life.” (x)    

Was then the sun a dream because there is night?
Hidden in the mortal’s heart the Eternal lives:
He lives secret in the chamber of thy soul,
A Light shines there nor pain nor grief can cross.
A darkness stands between thyself and him,
Thou canst not hear or feel the marvellous Guest,
Thou canst not see the beatific sun.
O queen, thy thought is a light of the Ignorance,
Its brilliant curtain hides from thee God’s face.
—  Sri Aurobindo, Savitri,  Book VI, Canto II - The Way of Fate and the Problem of Pain

Ode to Joy

You don’t see me in moonlight

scabbed knees and tired eyes

vulnerable and brave

boxed in by manners and a desire to fight losing battles

I’ve been strung out since the day I was born

I’ve been waiting heartbroken in the morning to be noticed from my place in the corner

hoping with a dry throat that I’d be the one you’d choose with an open hand and a timid smile

You don’t notice me howling at you or a person like you

beatific while I’m jagged, dangling, waiting to tip over the cliff face

like any other human shipwreck

a clumsily arranged skeleton quivering with anticipation

I’ve always been here

waiting, bleeding, shivering

windy and lonesome

full of adoration and regret

How I’ve longed to feel connected to you

to reach with a sweaty hand and feel it slide home and slick within yours

I’ve burned in half a decade of infernos and drown in rivers of my own salt

I’ve laughed in a circle of faces I love and sat helpless and quiet while they ran hands through my hair

Like you, I’ve been losing time by the leap year wishing things were better

I’ve looked at strangers across hallways and felt both timid and lovestruck

I’ve woken crying in the middle of the night with hands wandering for my mother

I’ve been sublimely happy and tremendously sad

A miracle! Alive! A person!

So much pain in growing up and realising that no one is ever any further through the valley

that, like me, everyone is filled with rust and listlessness

And I’ll only ever see them in the sunshine

And I’ll never know you at all