blessed mother and child

“I got pregnant when I was twenty-two. It wasn’t planned. The father and I weren’t even in a relationship. But I thought I could handle it on my own. I felt like a modern woman. I was in law school. I wanted to be a diplomat. But oh man, it was hard. I wasn’t emotionally prepared to deal with it. Society doesn’t treat the child of an unwed mother like a blessing. When you’re married and pregnant, people come up and ask all kinds of questions: ‘Is it a boy? Is it a girl? How are you feeling?’ But that doesn’t happen when you’re single. People saw me getting fatter, but everyone avoided the subject. Instead they asked each other: ‘What happened? Do you know anything?’ I felt invisible. I dropped out of law school because I felt so ashamed. Thankfully a few close friends carried me through. My daughter is eighteen now. Everything turned out fine. But I wish I could have enjoyed my pregnancy more.”

(Rio de Janeiro, Brazil)

July 17, 1794: The Martyrdom of the 16 Blessed Discalced Martyrs of Compeigne

About every two minutes, one voice would fall away from the others, to be heard no more by mortal ears. Each sister, when her time came, went to her Mother and knelt; received a blessing; and kissed the Madonna and Child statuette.
“Permission to die, Mother?”
“Go, my daughter!”

On the evening of July 17, 1794, during the French Revolution’s Reign of Terror, in Paris’s Place de la Nation, a hardened crowd waited at the guillotine for the carts carrying that day’s “batch” from the Palais de Justice. A heavy stench from the putrefying blood in the pit below the scaffold hung over the plaza. During the five weeks the guillotine had stood in the Place de la Nation, a thousand severed heads had fallen into the blood-stiffened leather bag of Sanson, the Paris executioner. The blood pit had been enlarged once already but had quickly filled up again.

Usually, raucous jeers from where Rue du Faubourg St. Antoine emptied into the plaza would signal the approach of the tumbrels carrying the condemned. Not this night. A strange hush spread into the plaza. Then there was something else. Singing. Serene, female voices intoning a cool, effortless chant of verse after verse of the Te Deum.

When the tumbrels rolled up to the scaffold, the crowd grew silent. The singers were sixteen sisters from the Discalced Carmelite monastery in Compiegne. They wore long white choir mantles (cloaks) over brown robes similar to nuns’ habits. Such attire had long since been outlawed in the new order. But these women were not of the new order. Their religious clothing and singing in Latin embodied the lost time before the storming of the Bastille and the start of the revolution on July 14, 1789. Also, while plenty of priests and some nuns had been executed individually, never had an entire religious community been carted up to the guillotine. Their radiant, happy faces were wrong for this place. They should have looked sad. They were about to die. They looked joyous. The other twenty-four condemned prisoners with them looked unhappy.

The reason for the Carmelites’ happiness was their belief that the guillotine was the answer to their prayers. Every day for almost two years, since about the time of the September 1792 massacres, the sisters had made a daily act of consecration in which they offered their own lives to God as a sacrifice to restore peace, help France, and stop the killing. For Christ, their heavenly Spouse, to actually accept their offer of themselves in holocaust and grant them their martyrdom gave them great joy.

Three hours earlier at the Palais de Justice, the sisters had been condemned to death. A show trial proved them “enemies of the people.” The blatantly false charges included “hiding weapons in your convent.” In answer, the 41-year old prioress, Mother Teresa of St. Augustine, lifted her crucifix from her bosom and held it up to the presiding judge saying, “The only weapon we’ve ever had in our convent is this. You cannot prove we have ever had any others.” They had no convent anyway. The revolutionary government had confiscated it and ejected them in September 1792. Carmel Compiegne and everything in it had been sold to finance the revolution.

A fellow prisoner who saw them return from hearing their death sentences reported their faces were “beaming with joy.” A Parisian working class woman who watched the Carmelites pass by on the tumbrels had shouted, “What good souls! Just look at them! Tell me if you don’t think they look just like angels! I tell you, if these women don’t go straight to paradise, then we’ll just have to believe it doesn’t exist!”

At the scaffold, the sisters performed devotions normal for dying Carmelites. The nuns renewed their monastic vows of poverty chastity and obedience. They sang the Veni Creator Spiritus:

Come, Holy Ghost, Creator blest,
and in our hearts take up Thy rest;
come with Thy grace and heav’nly aid,
To fill the hearts which Thou hast made. …

One sister, was heard to cry out, “Only too happy, O my God, if this little sacrifice can calm your wrath and reduce the number of victims.”

Then Mother Teresa of Saint Augustine walked over to the foot of the scaffold steps and turned to face her spiritual daughters. In the palm of her hand, the prioress held a tiny terracotta image of the Virgin and Child, a last relic saved from Carmel Compiegne. She summoned Sister Constance, the youngest sister, who approached.

This was 29-year-old Sister Contance’s first act of obedience as a professed Carmelite. Moments before, as her sisters were renewing their vows, she was pronouncing her vows for the first time. In 1789, at the start of the Revolution, just before she completed her novice year, the revolutionary government prohibited the taking of religious vows. So, after six years as a novice, she finally made her profession in extremis. Previously, she had expressed a terrible fear of the guillotine. She would show no fear this night.

At the steps, Sister Constance knelt at her prioress’s feet and received a blessing. She kissed the clay Madonna and Child cupped in her prioress’ hand. Finally, bowing her head, she asked:
“Permission to die, Mother?”
“Go, my daughter!”

Sister Constance rose from her knees. A witness described her as radiant as “a queen going to her receive her diadem.“ As she began her climb up to the scaffold, she spontaneously intoned the Laudate Dominum omnes gentes, the 117th Psalm. That psalm was sung by the Discalced Carmelite Order’s mother-foundress, St. Teresa of Avila, at the foundation of every new Carmel in 16th-century Spain. Hearing Sister Constance, her sisters immediately took up the chant:

Praise the Lord, all ye nations!
Praise Him all ye people!
For his mercy is confirmed upon us,
And the truth of the Lord endureth forever!
Praise the Lord!

At the top of scaffold steps, still joined in chant with her sisters, Sister Constance waved aside the executioner and his valet. She walked on her own to the vertical balance-plank; was strapped to it; and then lowered into horizontal position. With a swoosh and a thud, the guillotine had cut the number of voices to 15. The remaining voices rose in defiance. Even before her falling head reached Sanson’s leather bag, Sister Constance was in the arms of her heavenly Spouse in the Kingdom of the Lamb.

The exact order in which the other 15 sisters climbed the scaffold has not come down to us. We know only the last two sisters. What is known is that the guillotine mob remained silent the whole time, an almost impossible–or one could say miraculous–occurrence. The bumps, clicks, swooshes and thuds of the death apparatus told of the deadly business. But the calm, austere chant of the Laudate Dominum never stopped.

About every two minutes, one voice would fall away from the others, to be heard no more by mortal ears. Each sister, when her time came, went to her Mother and knelt; received a blessing; and kissed the Madonna and Child statuette.
“Permission to die, Mother?”
“Go, my daughter!”

Here are the names of the other sisters:
Sister Jesus Crucified, choir sister, age 78. She and Sister Charlotte had celebrated their jubilee of 50 years of profession.
Sister Charlotte of the Resurrection, choir sister, age 78. The martyrs arrived at the Paris Concierge (jail) from Compiegne on July 13 after a two-day journey in open carts. Sister Charlotte was unable to rise and step out of the cart with her sisters. She could only walk with a crutch, but her hands were tied behind her back. Exhausted, she sat alone in the tumbrel in the soiled straw. An angry guard jumped up and tossed her out onto the cobblestones. After lying still for a while, Sister Charlotte lifted her bloodied head and gently thanked the brutal guard for not killing her. She wanted to live long enough to make her witness with her sisters.
Sister Euphrasia of the Immaculate Conception, choir sister, age 58
Sister Julie Louise of Jesus, choir sister, age 52. Sister Julie Louise of Jesus entered Carmel as an aristocratic young widow. Well educated and musically talented, she composed a song or poem every year for the community’s July 16 patronal festival, the feast of Our Lady of Mount Carmel. This year, at the Concierge in Paris, since writing materials were forbidden in jail, she managed to obtain scraps of charcoal. She composed a long five stanza song about a happy martyrdom and set it to the tune of the bloodthirsty La Marseillaise. One line went, “Let’s climb, let’s climb, the scaffold high!” The day before they went to the guillotine, all the sisters gaily sang Sister Julie Louise’s feast day song. Their only disappointment was they would not die on the feast of Our Lady of Mount Carmel.
Sister Teresa of the Heart of Mary, choir sister, age 52
Sister Saint Martha, lay sister, age 52
Sister Catherine, extern, age 52
Sister Marie of the Holy Spirit, lay sister, age 51
Sister Teresa of Saint Ignatius, choir sister, age 51
Mother Henriette of Jesus, past prioress and novice mistress, choir sister, age 49
Sister Teresa, extern, age 46
Sister Saint Louis, subprioress, choir sister, age 42
Sister Saint Francis Xavier, lay sister, age 30
Sister Henriette of the Divine Providence, choir sister, age 34. This sister was the second to last to die. She was a fiery beauty, whose nine adult bothers and sisters included two priests and five nuns. Fearing her natural beauty would be a distraction, she had withdrawn from the Sisters of Charity of Nevers, a public nursing order and sought out the hidden life in the cloister at Carmel. One of her sisters became the Superior General of all the Sisters of Charity of Nevers. (This was the order of St Bernadette of Lourdes.)

In the courtroom at the Revolutionary Tribunal on the day of her martyrdom, she boldly challenged the Tribunal’s notorious public prosecutor, Antoine Fouquier-Tinville, to define what he meant by calling her community “fanatic.” In response to her repeated demands that he stop avoiding her question and answer it, the prosecutor finally said their “attachment to their religion” made them criminals and dangers to public freedom. At the guillotine, since she was the Carmel’s infirmarian, she took a place by the steps and helped her older, weaker sisters up the scaffold steps.

The psalm chant stopped only when the last Carmelite, the prioress—Mother Teresa of Saint Augustine, age 41, had climbed the scaffold steps and followed her daughters. She was the only child of an employee of the Paris Observatory. Since she was not from a wealthy family, the generous young Dauphine of France, Marie Antoinette, had paid her dowry for Carmel. The prioress was well educated and artistic. Some of her paintings still hang on the walls of French Carmels. She was only 34 when she was first elected prioress. She is believed to be the first nun to have felt the call to community martyrdom.

Before beginning her walk up the steps, the prioress made the sign of the cross and paused. A pious woman in the crowd, who saw the hesitation, understood and moved up to discreetly take the tiny terracotta Virgin and Child statuette from the hand of the great prioress of Carmel Compiegne. The statuette was kept safe and has come down to us.

Ten days after the Carmelites of Compiegne fulfilled their vow and offered themselves up in sacrifice to stop the bloodshed, Robespierre fell from power. A bloody revolutionary, he was a key architect of the Reign of Terror. The next day, July 28, 1794, he was guillotined and the Reign of Terror soon faded.
That the martyrs were able to wear parts of their forbidden habits at the guillotine, like their white choir mantles, was due to unusual coincidences or, more likely, the hand of God. After their expulsion from Carmel Compiegne, they had been forbidden to wear their habits. With no money to buy clothes, they had to accept worn out, cast-off, immodest clothing. They draped scarves over their shoulders and necks to protect their modesty.

But, on July 12, 1794, in the jail in Compiegne (a confiscated convent) they had donned what remained of their habits in order to wash their single outfits of civilian clothing. At the same time, the mayor received an order from the Paris Committee of Public Safety ordering the martyrs’ immediate transport to Paris for “trial.” The secular clothes were soaking in wash tubs. Delaying the execution of the Paris order was unthinkable (and too risky) for the Compiegne officials. Therefore, the martyrs went to Paris in what they had left of their forbidden habits. Perhaps, when their Lord decided to accept their offer of martyrdom, He also granted the martyrs the tender mercy of dying in their beloved, long, white choir mantles.

The worn-out, immodest civilian clothes left soaking in the tubs at Compiegne had yet another role in God’s plan. Confined in the Compiegne jail with the Carmelites had been 17 English Benedictine sisters. Four others had already died in jail. They had been arrested as foreigners in 1792 at their monastery in Cambrai. A granddaughter of St. Thomas More had founded the monastery when Catholic religious orders were forbidden in England. Though kept apart, Benedictines learned of the Carmelites’ daily consecration to sacrifice themselves to restore peace and free prisoners.

After the Carmelites were taken to Paris, the Compiegne jailers made the Benedictines wear the Carmelites’ abandoned civilian clothes. The Benedictines were still wearing them when they were finally allowed to sail for England in 1795. That community eventually founded England’s famous Stanbrook Abbey. Today, Benedictines at Stanbrook still honor the Carmelites as martyrs whose deaths somehow stopped the killing and saved the jailed Benedictine sisters from the guillotine. In 1895, Stanbrook Abbey returned many of the “wash tub” clothes as venerated relics to the newly reestablished Carmel Compiegne.

The martyrs were beatified by St. Pius X on May 13, 1906. Their memory is celebrated on July 17 by both branches of the Carmelites and the archdiocese of Paris.

anonymous asked:

Hello! I am a huge ACOHAD fan, and really enjoy reading the ACOHAD extras. Can you do one in which Elena is actually pregnant? I found the one with Rhys and her brother so cute!! Also, when will the next chapter of ACOHAD be out? Thanks!!

I’m not sure about the next chapter, I’m having a really hard time with it. 

And sure! Just remember that you asked for this after you’ve read it. Here’s my masterlist if you want to reread the cute stuff once you’ve finished with this. Much love!


Rhys put another slash through his map. Just another territory who wasn’t abiding by the treaty. It’s not the worst thing, it’s just annoying to have to sort them out so often when there were plenty of other things that he and his mate could be doing. Today, he had wanted to shop with his wife for their daughter’s one hundred and eightieth birthday, but now he was stuck here dealing with this crap. It was tomorrow, and although he had certainly gotten her some gifts, it would never be enough for his little girl. He was unlucky that it was so late in the evening. By the time he was done it might be dawn, and fae would have shut up shop by then.

His door opened, and he was ready to tell Feyre his frustrations when he saw that it was his little girl instead.

“What a pleasant surprise!” He got up from his chair and enveloped her in a hug. She was wearing a long dress made of the darkest black velvet, high collared and long sleeved. Her hair, the exact same shade as his, was in a tight bun, and exhaustion was written across her face. “How was the Winter Court? Thank you for doing that for me, I hate that I put it on you because of this stupid treaty debacle. Hey, are you okay?” He pulled back from her shaking form to see that she had covered her face in a desperate attempt to hide her tears.  

“It happened again.” She gasped.

“What happened, Butterfly?”

“I lost another one. Another baby.” A sob tore through her body. “I didn’t even tell Kaden I was pregnant this time.” Her face scrunched up in pure pain, and Rhys pulled her back into him, tears of his own welling in his eyes. His poor Butterfly. How many times had this have to happen? It had gotten to the point where he didn’t even know what to say. What could he say? If there was a way to comfort someone after they had lost a fourth baby, he didn’t know what it was.

“How long have you known you were with child?”

“A month.” Her voice wavered. “I hid it in the bond, covered my scent. It was so horrible. I wasn’t even excited when I found out. I was here, waiting for the pain I knew would come. Do you think I did this to myself? That because – because I didn’t love this baby the way I loved the others, it was taken away?”

Rhys pressed a hard kiss to her head, and squeezed her tighter in his arms. That’s when the metallic scent hit his nose, and he realised that she must have come straight to him after she lost the child. Shit. Shit. Feyre would be here soon, and then he might have an idea of how to sort this out.


Feyre sat next to her daughter, squeezing her hand while she soaked in the bath. She had tried to make it as nice as she could, bubbles over filling the tub, scented candles lining the walls, but her crying had yet to cease, and it was becoming unbearable.

“Rhys is with Kaden right now. He’ll explain everything.” Feyre tried to sooth her.

“I don’t want him to know,” Eleana replied quietly. “Every time this happens, he gets – he just – he is so upset, and he never blames me. He should though. I’m the one that can’t carry our children. I keep thinking about it – why I can’t do this.” She paused, and let out a shuddering breath.  “Why can’t I do this?” Another tear escaped, and Eleana sunk lower into the bubbles and water. “When we lose a child, Kaden likes to tattoo a broken arrow across his heart. He tells me that when we finally have a child, a sword will join their ranks, ready to protect. I can’t bare it, sometimes.”

“Butterfly,” Feyre shook her head, “None of this is your fault. It’s just hard for fae. So many females lose their babies, and as heartbreaking as it is, there is no one you can blame. One day you will know the joy of having a child, but I hope that it is before then, that you realise there is nothing wrong with you.”


Rhys went to find his daughter’s mate to tell him the news. Unsurprisingly, he was shopping for her birthday. He had a wide smile when he saw Rhys that quickly turned sour when Rhys didn’t reciprocate it.

“What’s wrong?” Kaden, his daughter’s husband and mate for well over a century and a half, was a very nice boy, who’d had a very hard beginning in life. He was wearing the matching suit to Eleana’s dress, and still had his crown on from when they went to the Winter Court earlier that day. Eleana had told Feyre, who was streaming everything to Rhys, that when she started bleeding she fled from the court to Rhys, telling Kaden that she had forgotten something else she had to do.

“Here, come with me. We’ll talk at the house.”

Kaden put down the small trinket he was holding, and approached Rhys, shaking his head as he did so. “Is it Eleana? Where is she, I’ll go to her.”

“Just come with me to the house, Kaden.”

“Don’t play around, not with her.” His jaw was set, and his black eyes were hard.

Rhys let out a heavy breath, and braced himself. He looked around and saw that there were no eavesdropping fae around, but talked quietly just in case. “Eleana wanted to wait until after she was finished with the healer before I came to get you. Right now, she’s with Feyre.”

Kaden looked taken aback, and his shoulders tensed. “What happened?” He whispered. The poor male looked utterly devastated at the thought of Eleana’s pain.

“Come with me.”

Kaden finally nodded in agreement, and Rhys took him back to his home to admit to him what Eleana had divulged.


Feyre smoothed back Eleana’s hair, humming a lullaby as her daughter tried to sleep. She had stopped crying, thankfully, but was now just staring blankly into the distance.

A knock sounded at the door, and relief flooded through Feyre now that Rhys was here. Eleana wasn’t the only one who needed her mate.

Rhys came in with Eleana’s mate in tow, his face solemn. He greeted Feyre with a smile, and went straight to Eleana. He shucked off his blazer and shirt, his Illyrian wings tucked in tight to his body, and pushed back the blanket. Eleana’s arms reached out for him, and he sidled into bed next to her, embracing her fully into him.

Feyre took this as her cue to leave, and stood from her chair next to the bed with Rhys’ help. He had been longer than expected. He took Kaden to their house to explain the situation, and then together they came to Eleana and Kaden’s home.

She didn’t know how they were going to get through this, again, and she prayed to the Mother that her daughter be blessed with the child she so very much wanted.

Nineteen Flames For Brigid

Excerpt from “Tending Brigid’s Flame” by Lunaea Weatherstone

This prayer litany can be done all at once or over nineteen nights. You can offer one prayer each night or do it “Twelve Days of Christmas” style: on the first night, offer Flame 1′s prayer, on the second night offer the prayers for Flames 1 and 2, and so on until on the last night you offer all nineteen. However you get there, when you’ve lit that final flame, remember that Brigid holds the twentieth flame, which is eternal.

Flame 1: Wisdom

Brigid of brightness, I bid thee welcome,
Brigid of blessing, come thou in.
Brigid of strength, I bid thee welcome,
This night and every night, this day and every day.

Flame 2: Hearth and Household

Brigid of the threshold, come thou in,
Brigid of the hearthfire, take your ease,
Brigid of the cook-pot, sup with us,
Brigid of all comforts, live in our hearts.

Flame 3: Ancestors

Ancestors all, I embody your legacy,
Ancestors all, I ask for your blessing,
Ancestors all, I offer Brigid’s flame
To light the needfires of deep memory.

Flame 4: Flamekeeper

Brigid of the timeless flame, bless your [children]:
Those who keep the circle bright,
Those whose faith has never failed,
Those who keep your name ablaze.

Flame 5: Healing

Brigid of the holy waters,
Brigid of the soothing hand,
Brigid of the miracles,
Touch me with healing.

Flame 6: Poetry

Brigid of lore, deepen my understanding,
Brigid of bards, increase my eloquence,
Brigid of poetry, lead me to beauty,
Brigid of word and beauty of thought.

Flame 7: Courage

Brigid of the golden shield,
Brigid of courage,
Brigid of the sunbeam,
Increase thou my trust.

Flame 8: Righteous Causes

Brigid, lend your righteous sword
To those who work for justice,
To those who speak the truth,
To those who seek a better world.

Flame 9: The Oppressed

In the name of Brigid, who empowers the oppressed,
In the name of Brigid, who released the enslaved,
In the name of Brigid, who lifts up the downtrodden,
May all her people be honored and free.

Flame 10: Children

Brigid the midwife, bless every birth,
Brigid foster mother, protect every child,
Brigid of springtime, bestow on each childhood
The innocence of wonder and the magic of joy.

Flame 11: Women’s Causes

Mighty Brigid, your keening women call to you:
Strengthen our voice,
Strengthen our resolve,
Strengthen our sisterhood.

Flame 12: The Earth

Brigid, preserve this planet,
The stones and the seas and the skies.
Brigid, spread your green mantle
For the greening of the earth.

Flame 13: Animals

Brigid, protect the earth’s animals,
The fish and the beasts and the bird.
Brigid, shelter your creatures
As your sheep shelter lambs from the wind.

Flame 14: Water

Brigid of the clear dewdrop,
Brigid of the pure wellspring,
Brigid of the pool of knowledge,
Teach us to honor the gift of water.

Flame 15: Creativity

Bright Brigid, flame of creation,
Kindle my enthusiasm,
Fire up my passion,
Ignite my imagination.

Flame 16: Nourishment

Brigid of the overflowing milk,
Brigid of the good brown loaf,
Brigid of the endless butter,
May all beings be nourished.

Flame 17: Peace

Peace of the swan and peace of the [cattle],
Peace of the hearth and peace of the open door,
Peace between neighbors and peace between nations,
The deep peace of Brigid within.

Flame 18: Gratefulness

Brigid, I thank thee three-times-three:
For my birth, my body, my spirit,
For my kin, my clan, my tribe,
For my home, my work, my knowledge of thee.

Flame 19: The Three Flames of Brigid

May the hearthfire of welcome warm me,
May the temple fire of faith sustain me,
May the forge fire of change strengthen me,
And Brigid’s love encompass me, now and evermore.

[Note: Some words have been changed.]

Lucifer 2x14 Meta

Uggh, this episode messed me up so bad!

Originally posted by queerlysad

At the end of 2x11, Lucifer gives Chloe a long-winded speech about how he’s not worthy of her. Chloe’s response is, “Maybe you’re right,” and to kiss him anyway. From an audience’s point of view (and Lucifer’s) we never see Chloe express her feelings about their relationship to his face.

What words of affection does Chloe give Lucifer? If you look carefully, her praise of him is all around their relationship as crime-solving partners, not as friends or romantic partners:

2x01: Look, I don’t know what your deal is, but you make me a better detective. And you’ve always got my back. What more could I ask for?

2x07: If I’m gonna take this guy down, I need my partner and that’s you. Lucifer Morningstar.

2x10: Lucifer is the best partner I have ever had. And I can only hope that he can count on me as much as I count on him.

Lucifer really believes that he’s not good enough for her as a romantic partner. His worst fears are confirmed in 2x12 when Charlotte manipulates him into discovering his Father asked Amenadiel to bless Chloe’s mother and create a “miracle child”.

At the end of 2x13, Chloe asks Lucifer if he wants to pick up their relationship where it left off. Vague words, because Chloe is scared of rejection, and by now Lucifer thinks her feelings are fake, a grand manipulation by his father.

Which brings us to 2x14.

Lucifer tries to stay away from Chloe. Maybe he even tries to take his love of punishing bad guys and solving crimes to Las Vegas, where he saves the life of the woman we know as Candy. But Lucifer can’t stop thinking about Chloe. (Or apparently talking to Candy about Chloe and his work and how hellish almost losing Chloe to poison was and how gut-wrentching it was to have to confront his worst fears of being trapped in hell with no hope of redemption was. I have the head-canon that there must have been some grand adventure that really bonded Lucifer and Candy together. I mean he freely initiates a hug with Candy, which we’ve only ever seen him do sincerely with Delilah and insincerely with Dan to steal his badge and gun.)

So yeah, Lucifer is not in a good state of mind and he can’t stop thinking about Chloe, but he doesn’t want to trap her in a relationship that his Dad set up. He concocts this hair-brained scheme to use Candy to push Chloe to drop her pursuit of him romantically. Don’t think for a second that his real motivation was getting information out of Charlotte. That was a nice side effect, but could have been done without Candy posing as his wife.

This scheme is, in Lucifer’s words to Amenadiel, a way to give Chloe back free will. To allow her to make a “choice” about their romantic relationship. It’s a poorly-thought out plan, because how will Lucifer know if Chloe is really acting on her own accord if she chooses a relationship with him? The only way this plan works is if Chloe obviously chooses not to be with Lucifer, defying God’s plan. It’s a false dichotomy where Lucifer has set himself up to lose no matter what.

Lucifer seals his fate by sabotaging his reunion with Chloe by having Candy walk into the station (come on, did you think Candy who is helping Lucifer by acting like his wife would just decide to take her acting gig so seriously that she would waltz into a police station). He really wants to drive home the point that Chloe shouldn’t trust him romantically, which we can see by his excited, “Yes, just friends!” statement and his desire to “get back to the way things were before” they kissed.

But it back fires. Chloe doesn’t trust him anymore, and wants him out of her life. She’s too broken up to tell him that her heart is broken, so the next best thing is to limit her contact with him and fire him from being her partner in crime.

So now you have Lucifer, who is so freaking scared to have a romantic relationship that his Dad set up, who has only been praised by Chloe for being her partner in crime, who has only ever felt wanted and respected by the people at his job, suddenly lose it all.

Is it any wonder that he spends the entire episode trying to prove he’s a worthy crime-solving partner? That’s been the only relationship connection that Chloe has ever expressed affection and appreciation for. Lucifer has never had a romantic relationship before, ever, and sex is off the table, so he goes about proving his worth by desperately trying so hard to prove that Chloe needs his help solving crimes. He has his musical talents, and Chloe did bond with him over piano playing, so he concocts the hair-brained plan to sing a song from her favorite band and catch a killer.

Lucifer’s just so excited when he catches Marla. Absolute joy on his face when he strums her base in the crime lab. “See, the department needs me, including you.” Only Amenadiel finally calls him on his delusions, reminding Lucifer that it doesn’t matter if Chloe was manipulated by Dad into having feelings for Lucifer; her feelings are real and valid in her mind.

So we have the final scene with the killer band member, guitar cord wrapped around Lucifer’s throat, and Lucifer calls out to Chloe in the only way he knows how: by giving up, by acting out, by pre-emptively striking out against someone he’s afraid of being hurt by. “I’m useless to her. The Detective doesn’t need me anymore.” He urges the band member to strangle him or Chloe to shoot him. Chloe eventually shoots the band member.

But what really breaks my heart is when Lucifer complements Chloe on her aim, and she says, “I was aiming for you.” Again, there’s no verbal confirmation, no words of affection other than Chloe touching his face and asking him if he’s ok. They leave it with Chloe telling Lucifer to “not be late” to the precinct tomorrow. Again, she’s letting him back into his work, giving him that inch, but she’s not letting him back into her life just yet. And that is what has me being a very sad fangirl this week.

Originally posted by astrorhea

Jewish Lesbian

So, I’m not the best storyteller but here goes. 

I come from a conservative household. My da’s grandda was an Orthodox Rabbi. My mother was a first generation American (born to a Shoah survivor). We kept a kosher house and my sister and I grew up in skirts.  When I was in primary school I dreamed about growing up to be a rabbi one day. 

Then I had a a crush in middle school. On a girl. Her name was Michelle. She had a rose tattoo on her foot. I ignore it but start to drift from observing. Stop saying the Shema. Start wearing pants instead of skirts. By the time I graduate middle school, I don’t go to synagogue with my family anymore. 

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Christian Witch Blessing for the Unborn

White Candle

Anoint the candle with your oil of choice of you wish.

Light the candle and meditate. Visualize a white light surrounding the pregnant person. Visualize the light building up in intensity around the belly where the baby is laying in the womb.

Chant the following Psalm 3 times:

Psalm 127:3– “Behold, children are a gift of the Lord, the fruit of the womb is a reward”

Let the candle continue to burn. If you like to pray to saints, Saint Gerard Majella is a patron saint of unborn children. Ask for his prayers and intercession in regards to the pregnancy

Inspired by the person asking curses for an unborn fetus to be miscarried. Christian Witches, if you want to bless the child and the mother instead, you may use this spell :)

Not sure why it deleted it so here it is again because IT’S SUPER IMPORTANT GUYS
This is my friend’s cousin, Marden. He lives in Germantown, Maryland and has been missing since December 18th. Please share this photo to help him be found safely. Prayers are much needed as well. Thank you.

v blessed that my mother wants me to have a child less than I want to have a child, and I don’t want one at ALL (her main thing is just like, the whole end is nigh thing, but it also the whole passing on the brain weasels thing which, yknow, fair enough)

FF XV React: Meeting their firstborn child

Suggested by: yukino64

I’ve done a React previously where the boys are told they are to be fathers, and in Cidney’s case a mother. This is a continuation! ^_^ Where they meet their little one soon after they were born!

Noctis: *Is constantly reminding himself to not hold the child too tightly, or too loosley. The little one is only staring at him wide eyed.* H-Hey there..*clears his throat, and gently carresses the childs cheek earning him a smile. He cant help but smile as well.* Haha, you’re going to be spoiled rotten at this rate. A spoiled little prince/princess. *sighs and gently kisses the little ones forehead, in turn his child yawns* Pfft, you’re definatly a Caelum.

Gladiolus: *Is talking in a low voice to his little one, not wanting to scare them after just being born an hour ago* Welcome to the world. It’s big and scary, but I’ll make sure to be with you every step of the way. *As he runs a finger down the childs cheek, the little one latches on to said digit* Hey! Got a grip there dont you?

Prompto: Aw~ Damn you’re so adorable! *Is as gently as he can rubbing his cheek to the childs* Daddy promises you that he’ll get you anything you want, pick you up when you fall, and love you with all his heart! *The little one suddenly starts to cry due to all the excitment* Ah! Sorry! Sorry! Daddy didnt mean it! *Starts to rock back and forth, quieting them quickly* Aw man, you already got me wrapped around your little fingers. *smiles*

Ignis: I’ll be-you’re more beautiful in person, my little treasure. *Gently kisses the child, earning him some cooing and causing him to smile even more* Just like I promised your mother, I promise that I’ll protect you from anything and anyone. *Sighs wistfully all the while just staring lovingly to the little one*

Cor: *He lies down with the child on top of him, carefully tucked in a big soft blanket and his arms* A small little light is finally here…*Sighs as he wipes some tears from his eyes* I cant help but wonder what impact you’ll make…But even if you dont, you’ll always have made an impact on my life…

Regis: *He’s smiling and wiping away his tears* I am, truely blessed. Thank you, to you and your mother for blessing me. *Gently kisses the childs cheek, and the little one brings their tiny hands up to touch his face. Regis cant help but to chuckle lightly* Yes. I’m right here and I’m not going anywhere.

Cidney: A little ball of sunshine~ came down from above~ And everyone loved them alright~ *she laughs lightly* Sorry, you’re mama isnt any good at singing. But I just know you’ll be a ball of sunshine to everyone you meet!

Much love to the people who are fans of both Sherlock and Elementary, and recognize both shows are unique interpretations of what a modern day Sherlock Holmes would be like, both shows have kick-ass casts, both shows have flaws and strengths, and you don’t have to choose one or the other. 

Bonus props if you also appreciate the classics, so you understand the awesomeness that these two shows came from.

Even more props if you love the insanity that is “Sherlock Holmes in the 22nd Century.” Because that’s just an awesome cartoon.