heavenly hosts



(Light white candle)
Hear me, oh spirits
Of Water, Earth, Fire, and Air
Heavenly hosts
Demons of the infernal realms
And spirits of the ancestors
(Light inscribed orange candle stub)
I call upon you
To bind
Donald J. Trump
So that he may fail utterly
That he may do no harm
To any human soul
Nor any tree
or Sea
Bind him so that he shall not break our polity
Usurp our liberty
Or fill our minds with hate, confusion, fear, or despair
And bind, too,
All those who enable his wickedness
And those whose mouths speak his poisonous lies
I beseech thee, spirits, bind all of them
As with chains of iron
Bind their malicious tongues
Strike down their towers of vanity
(Invert Tower tarot card)
I beseech thee in my name
(Say your full name)
In the name of all who walk
Crawl, swim, or fly
Of all the trees, the forests,
Streams, deserts,
Rivers and seas
In the name of Justice
And Liberty
And Love
And Equality
And Peace
Bind them in chains
Bind their tongues
Bind their works
Bind their wickedness

(Light the small photo of Trump from the flame of the orange candle stub and hold carefully above the ashtray)
(Speak the following loudly and with increasing passion as the photo burns to ashes)
So mote it be!
So mote it be!
So mote it be!
(Blow out orange candle, visualizing Trump blowing apart into dust or ash*)
(Pinch, blow, or snuff out the white candle, ending the ritual)

(Sourced from Huffington Post)

✨Have fun witches, let him have it ✨
Remember that if you don’t have certain components for this spell, you can always change it to fit your own craft!

If you ever need some angel music to meditate to the following are excellent choices:

  • Ascension With Archangels - Roberto Coccia
    (features tracks for Michael, Chamuel, Uriel, Raphael, Gabriel, Jophiel, and Zadkiel)
  • Archangels - Jared Clark
    (features tracks for Michael, Gabriel, Raphiel, Raziel, Haniel, Jeremiel, Metatron, Sandalphon, Ariel, Chamuel, Raguel, Uriel, Jophiel, Zadkiel, and Azrael)
  • Angels - David Hicken
    (features tracks for Celeste, Michael, Seraphina, Desirée, Uriel, Rosetta, Francesca, Indriel, Akasha,  Aurora, Raphael, and Gabriel)

themusicsweetly  asked:

How about one for the Modern Glasgow AU? Claire and Jamie decorating Faith's baby room before she's born. Thank you!

 @diversemediums​  asked: May we please get some pregnant Claire and pending fatherhood Jamie fluff?

Modern Glasgow AU

“First ye chastise me for no’ being ready, and now here ye are making us late!”

Jamie shook his head at his wife, laying a gentle hand on her shoulder, turning her to face him.

“Let’s stop by the hardware store on the way home? I think yellow will be our color.”

Light poured into the small room behind her, and he couldn’t help but kiss her smile. Then bend and kiss her belly.

“Aye, if ye insist. A bit of sunshine for our bairn, no?”

Claire nodded, joy singing in her eyes.

“She’ll love it.”

“Ye mean *he* will love it. Our braw wee lad.”

She curled her arms around his broad, broad shoulders. “What makes you so sure it won’t be a braw wee lassie?”

He tilted his head. “A father kens his bairn.”

“And a mother knows hers. Let’s go.”

Jamie warily eyed the room full of pregnant women and new mothers.

“How come there are hardly any men here?” he whispered.

Claire looked up from the clipboard. “It’s the middle of the day.”

“So? What is more important for a man than to be wi’ his wife when they check the health of their bairn?”

He leaned over to watch her fill out yet another form. Claire’s dark, bold letters spelled her name, date of birth, and profession – MEDICAL STUDENT.

“Why does it ask if ye’re on birth control? Ye’re wi’ child, that doesna make sense.”

“Looks like it’s one of those one-size-fits-all forms. Ah, here – read this to keep yourself busy. Joe shouldn’t be much longer.”

Jamie looked down at the three sheets of paper, neatly folded into thirds.




Gently, quietly he folded the papers into small rectangles.

“Since when did having a bairn get to be so complicated?” he whispered, watching a dark-haired, dark-eyed woman eyeing him from across the room. He slid one arm around the back of Claire’s chair, nuzzling her shoulder.

He felt her smile against his cheek. She had never said as much, but he *knew* she enjoyed when he claimed her in public. Just as much as she knew *he* enjoyed when she did the same.

“Only since we allowed it to get complicated,” she said softly, watching Jamie play with her fingers. “I’m terrified, I am – but with you, I know I can do anything.”

He kissed the side of her neck. She shivered.

“Claire Fraser!”

Startled, they both stood and crossed the room.

“Hi, Kal – how is everything today?”

The kindly nurse – a recent immigrant from Portugal, and Dr. Joe Abernathy’s new right hand – smiled at the Frasers, leading them through the maze of corridors to the examination room.

“Ah, busy. Joe has been running late all day – complicated appointment this morning.”

Jamie let Claire go first, his hand warm at the small of her back. And shared her smile at Joe’s boisterous greeting.

“Claire, *mo chridhe*?”

No sound from the mound of blankets huddled on her side of the bed.

“I ken ye’re awake.”

The hum of a diesel engine cruised past their window, masking Jamie’s sock-clad footsteps on the wood floor.

The mattress dipped as he shifted closer to her, gently lay one arm around her side – resting his hand atop hers, caressing the bairn, wrapping his body around her back.

The only way he could protect them.

Had it been only today that Claire had lay back on Joe’s exam table, pushed up her dress so that Joe could run the ultrasound for their five-month check-up?

When their jokes had abruptly ceased, and Joe had quickly turned to Kal, a thousand questions in his eyes?

When Claire, mind lightning-fast, had cleared her throat – “Joe, why don’t I hear a heartbeat?”

When Jamie had flown to her side, gaze darting between Kal adjusting the machine and Joe moving the wand around Claire’s belly and Claire’s wide and terrified eyes?

Then –

Then the whoosh-whoosh of their baby’s heart – so impossibly fast.

A choked cry of relief – from him or her, he would never know.

But Joe’s frown of concentration – and Kal’s whispers to her boss – let the Frasers know that not all was right with the bairn.

The baby they had longed for – had tried for – for three long years, including a year of hormone treatments and disappointment after disappointment after heart-crushing disappointment.

“No – no – no…”

“Claire – Claire, *listen to me*.” Joe’s voice was strong, firm – but scared. “I’m trying to get a good read on the baby. Hold on.”

Claire’s hands flew – and Jamie caught her, squeezing her hands tight, heart stuck in his throat.

“There,” Kal pointed to the ultrasound screen. “Just about…eight inches?”

“Eight?!?” Claire screamed. “Should be closer to twelve!”

Joe nodded. “Your baby has barely grown in the past month, Claire.”

“What – what…” Jamie swallowed. “What does this mean?”

“I’m not sure – could be any number of things.” Joe nodded at Kal, who took several screen prints from the ultrasound. “Heartbeat is there, but a bit lethargic. Growth is slow. Development looks fine – there’s the head, and the hands.”

Jamie craned his neck – and there he or she was, floating in Claire’s belly, blissfully unaware of the stramash outside.

“What do we do, Joe?” Claire’s voice was devoid of emotion – seeking facts. Closing off her heart.

“I don’t know, Claire.” He turned to face her head-on. “Speaking from colleague to colleague. I need to make some phone calls.”

“Do you want to know if it’s a girl or boy?” Kal asked quietly. “I can tell you – ”

“No,” both Frasers insisted in unison. Then a ghost of a smile – just for a few seconds – on Jamie’s lips.

“No,” he repeated. “We’ll find out when the child is born.”

Claire opened her mouth to protest –

“No, Claire,” Jamie interrupted. “No. Dinna even speak on that. No.”

She shifted her head on the table, fighting back tears.

But she didn’t hold back now – and all he could do was hold her, her body wracked with heaving, silent sobs.

“What can I do, Claire?” he whispered.

Slowly, slowly Claire turned over to face him. Tangled her legs with his. Pushed the swell of their baby – so small, yet so active right now – against his belly. Quietly he pulled up the front of her shirt – then his – so that they were skin to skin. Feeling. Sharing.

“Can you pray for us, Jamie?”  

She drew up the blankets to cover them – shield them – protect them.

“O Glorious Prince of the heavenly host,” Jamie whispered, voice cracked, hands tangled in Claire’s curls, feeling their bairn dance against his belly. “St. Michael the Archangel, defend us in the battle and in the terrible warfare that we are waging against the rulers of this world of darkness…”


Satoshi Mochida’s profile from the Corpse Party 2: DEAD PATIENT Drama CD Vol. 2. It reads:

[4th Year University Student / 22 years old]

Satoshi was one of the students who had survived Sachiko’s curse as he was trapped inside Heavenly Host Elementary School.

While visiting his sick mother at Amare Patriarcha Crucis Hospital, he found himself locked in.

Also the announcement for the extra chapter, “Satoshi Mochida Part 1″, has the following information for Satoshi:

Heavenly Host Survivor
Satoshi Mochida

“Don’t worry, I’ll definitely come back.
So, Mom, just stay here and don’t leave this room, okay?”

(Sources: 1, 2)

St. Michael the Archangel, defend us in battle. Be our safeguard against the wickedness and snares of the Devil. May God rebuke him, we humbly pray,
and do thou, O Prince of the heavenly hosts, by the power of God, cast into hell Satan, and all the evil spirits, who wander now throughout the world seeking the ruin of souls. Amen.

Saint Michael Prayer

Saint Michael the Archangel,

defend us in the day of battle.

Be our safeguard against the

wickedness and the snares of the devil.

May God rebuke him we humbly pray

and do thou O Prince of the Heavenly Host,

cast into hell Satan and all the evil spirits

who prowl throughout the world

seeking the ruin of souls.


Pope Leo XIII’s prayer to Saint Michael

Saint Michael the Archangel, defend us in battle, be our protection against the malice and snares of the devil. May God rebuke him we humbly pray; and do thou, O Prince of the Heavenly host, by the power of God, thrust into hell Satan and all evil spirits who wander through the world for the ruin of souls. Amen.

Saint Michael, pray for us.

paperbeanbag  asked:

Have any other good fics for us???

sorry this took a while to reply back to. i’ve been compiling this for a while.

since you didn’t specify what kind of fics, i’m gonna give like a smorgasbord of different ut fics i love w/ a blurb of stupid commentary from me :’D

(be warned, snas is my fav so a bunch feature him/are centered around him.)

(also be warned that not everything i like may be ur cup of tea, so make sure to read the tags/warnings.)

longpost under cut. ready? here we gooo~ ᕕ( ᐛ )ᕗ 

Keep reading

I can glorify God when i am unfairly accused and choose to respond with grace. When i am worried about a loved one and choose not to fear. When i am wracked with physical or emotional pain and choose to praise God anyway. These choices all matter. Because a heavenly host is watching, not to judge or condemn us, but to see if our God is worth worshiping. If He is worth living for, and even more, if He is worth dying for.
—  The Scars That Have Shaped Me

Witches all over the world are going to be uniting to hex Donald Trump at the stroke of midnight on waning crescent moon ritual days, which are February 24th (midnight, Friday evening), March 26th, April 24th, May 23rd, June 21st (especially important as it is the summer solstice) etc.

•Unflattering photo of Trump (aka any picture of Trump)
•Tower tarot card.
•Tiny stub of an orange candle (think one of Trump’s fingers).
•Pin or small nail
•White candle, representing the element of Fire
•Small bowl of water, representing elemental Water
•Small bowl of salt, representing elemental Earth
•Feather, representing the element of Air
•Matches or lighter
•Ashtray or dish of sand

Optional items include pyrite (or fool’s gold), sulfur, and black thread.
Carve the name “Donald J. Trump” into the orange candle with the pin, arrange the other items in a pleasing circle, and lean the tarot card on something so it is standing up vertically. Then, say a prayer for protection to your preferred deity.

(Light white candle)
Hear me, oh spiritswickedness Earth, Fire, and Air
Heavenly hosts
Demons of the infernal realms
And spirits of the ancestors
(Light inscribed orange candle stub)
I call upon you
To bind
Donald J. Trump
So that he may fail utterly
That he may do no harm
To any human soul
Nor any tree
or Sea Bind him so that he shall not break our polity
Usurp our liberty
Or fill our minds with hate, confusion, fear, or despair
And bind, too,
All those who enable his wickedness
And those whose mouths speak his poisonous lies I beseech thee, spirits, bind all of them
As with chains of iron
Bind their malicious tongues
Strike down their towers of vanity (Invert Tower tarot card) I beseech thee in my name
(Say your full name)
In the name of all who walk
Crawl, swim, or fly
Of all the trees, the forests,
Streams, deserts,
Rivers and seas
In the name of Justice
And Liberty
And Love
And Equality
And Peace Bind them in chains
Bind their tongues
Bind their works
Bind their wickedness

Blessed be, everyone!

Ashadha Navratri

June 24th 2017 marks the start of summer Navratri. I’m posting Navadurga Storam in praise of the nine forms of Mother Durga worshiped on each of the nine nights.

वन्दे वाञ्छितलाभाय चन्द्रार्धकृतशेखराम्।
वृषारूढाम् शूलधरां शैलपुत्री यशस्विनीम्॥१॥

vande vāñchitalābhāya candrārdhakṛtaśekharāṃ| vṛṣārūḍhāṃ śūladharāṃ śailaputrī yaśasvinīm ||

Salutations to the renowned śailaputrī, the daughter of inspiration, fulfiller of goals, holding the crescent moon on Her head, riding a bull and holding a trident.

दधाना करपद्माभ्यामक्षमाला कमण्डलू।
देवी प्रसीदतु मयि ब्रह्मचारिण्यनुत्तमा॥२॥

dadhānā karapadmābhyāmakṣamālā kamaṇḍalū | devī prasīdatu mayi brahmacāriṇyanuttamā ||

May the supreme Brahmachārini, Goddess of sacred study, who holds a rosary and holy water pot, the great Goddess, be propitious to me.

पिण्डजप्रवरारूढा चन्दकोपास्त्रकैर्युता।
प्रसादं तनुते मह्यम् चन्द्रघण्टेति विश्रुता॥३॥

piṇḍajapravarārūḍhā candakopāstrakairyutā | prasādaṃ tanute mahyaṃ candraghaṇṭeti viśrutā ||

May that Goddess, riding a tiger, fierce and ready for battle, renowned as Chandraghanta-the tone of devotion, bestow Her mercy on me.

॥देवी कूष्माण्डा॥
सुरासम्पूर्णकलशम् रुधिराप्लुतमेव च।
दधाना हस्तपद्माभ्याम् कूष्माण्डा शुभदास्तु मे॥४॥

surāsampūrṇakalaśaṃ rudhirāplutameva ca | dadhānā hastapadmābhyāṃ kūṣmāṇḍā śubhadāstu me ||

May kūṣmāṇḍā the Mother of purity, who holds a pot full of blood red wine in Her lotus hands, the creator of the universe, bestow auspiciousness on me.

॥देवी स्कन्दमाता॥
सिंहासनगता नित्यम् पद्माश्रितकरद्वया।
शुभदास्तु सदा देवी स्कन्दमाता यशस्विनी॥५॥

siṃhāsanagatā nityaṃ padmāśritakaradvayā | śubhadāstu sadā devī skandamātā yaśasvinī ||

May the renowned Skandamātā, the Mother of divinity, on the seat of a lion, eternal, holding lotus blossom in Her hands, bestow auspiciousness on me.

॥देवी कात्यायनी॥
चन्द्रहासोज्ज्वलकरा शार्दूलवरवाहना।
कात्यायनी शुभं दद्यादेवि दानवघातिनी॥६॥

candrahāsojjvalakarā śārdūlavaravāhanā |
kātyāyanī śubhaṃ dadyādevī dānavaghātinī ||

May the ever vigilant Kātyāyanī, who holds a shining sword, riding a majestic lion, destroyer of the wicked, bestow auspiciousness on me.

एकवेणी जपाकर्णपूरा नग्ना खरास्थिता।
लम्बोष्ठी कर्णिकाकर्णी तैलभ्यक्तशरीरिणी॥
वर्धनमूर्धध्वजा कृष्णा कालरात्रिर्भयङ्करी॥७॥

ekaveṇī japākarṇapūra nagnā kharāsthitā |
lamboṣṭhī karṇikākarṇī tailābhyaktaśarīriṇī || vāmapādollasallohalatākaṇṭakabhūṣaṇā | vardhanamūrdhvajā kṛṣṇā kālarātrirbhayaṅkarī ||

Kālarātri-the dark night, is black and naked except for her ear-ornaments on her large ears. Her lips hang open, Her body is covered in oil, and she sits on a donkey. She has a single braid (of mourning) in Her hair. We pray for her to destroy the darkeness in our minds. She holds an iron scimitar in Her upper left hand and a lightening bolt in her lower left hand. Her other hands are granting blessings and protection.

श्र्वेते वृषे समारूढा श्र्वेताम्बरधरा शुचि:।
महागौरी शुभं दद्यान्महादेवप्रमोददा॥८॥

śvete vṛṣe samārūḍhā śvetāmbaradharā śuciḥ | mahāgaurī śubhaṃ dadyānmahādevapramodadā ||

May Mahagauri, the great illuminator, who rides a white bull, wears spotless white clothes, the ever pure, source of pleasure to Lord Shiva, bestow auspiciousness on me.

सेव्यमाना सदा भूयात् सिद्धिदा सिद्धिदायिनी॥९॥

siddhagandharvayakṣādyairasurairamarairapi | sevyamānā sadā bhūyāt siddhidā siddhidāyinī ||

May the ever perfect Siddhidātrī, who is worshipped by the perfected, heavenly hosts, spirits, demons and Gods alike grant me perfection.

S13 Mini pre-coda - “Funeral Pyre”

Dean’s boots pressed their shadows into the wet sand of the shore-line in the dawn. 

He walked slowly, bending to pick up twisted branches of drift-wood, bleached by the water.

Sam was with him. 

They worked in silence. 

Dean had yelled enough. He’d yelled through the cold hours, chill soaking into his knees. He’d prayed to Chuck, to Amara, even to the winged dicks who made up whatever was left of the Heavenly host. 

No dice. Nada. Diddly squat. Bupkiss.  

So, they’d do what they always did, the Winchesters. 

They’d drink whiskey, they’d pour some in respect, maybe they’d say a few words. Then they’d burn their dead comrade, hunter-style, pick themselves up, and go on.

Only this time, Dean didn’t know if he could. 

Each step he took, he wanted to walk into the lake and have it fill up his mouth with weeds and brine.

Maybe I’d see Cas in Heaven.  His pulse leapt for a second, like the dumbass he was. 

Ain’t no dead angels in Heaven, boy.   

Bobby, he said silently, as he hauled another armful of driftwood up the beach, I ain’t lyin’, I can’t do this. I can’t do this again.

And suddenly he was angry. He was so white hot angry he felt the need to take his jacket off and throw it on the ground, even though it was early on the shoreline, and still cold. 

Sam just kept stacking wood, hair falling in his face.

The first pale orange fingers of the morning were closing over them when, finally, it was time. 

Dean was not ready. He fussed with the tie. He cleared his throat and fussed with the hair a bit too. 

Sam took the first gulp of whiskey. 

Dean couldn’t get the match going. His goddam fingers wouldn’t co-operate.  

Cas, it was bad when you sucked in a bunch of Leviathan goo. It was worse when you shoved me out the eye of Purgatory. But now? 

“Hey uh, let me,” Sam rescued the matches and cleared his throat as he finally lit the first corner of the gasoline-soaked wood.

Funeral pyre.

Dean couldn’t say it out loud.  

“Here lies Castiel, uh, angel of the Lord, and our true friend. Go in peace,” Sam said.

Dean figured he’d just leave it at that. But, as the flames started to singe the edges of the trench coat, something in him rose up and forced its way out. 

“Cas, I had dreams sometimes, I never told you, of the day you broke into Hell and pulled me out. Just fragments, really. Like, a light so bright it felt like a hydrogen bomb, tearing down the stench of the torture rooms and shining right into my dirty soul.”

Sam looked at him sideways.

“You were too late, of course. I’d already broken, the first seal was broken…. you know the story.

Except, you weren’t. I was half way to demon-town and you crammed me back into the world, then you walked every step of the way with me after that. It’s that thing, ain’t it, save a man and he’s yours forever? Well, I guess not forever.”

It was as close as he’d ever get to saying it now.

Dean watched the body that was once Jimmy Novak turn to black ash and white bone.

Cas, I’m yours. 

Serious Post™ ahead, folks.

I want to discuss the importance of UPG (Unverified Personal Gnosis), specifically in the angelkin community.

“Unverified personal gnosis (often abbreviated UPG) is the phenomenological concept that an individual’s spiritual insights (or gnosis) may be valid for them without being generalizable to the experience of others. It is primarily a neologism used in polytheistic reconstructionism, to differentiate it from ancient sources of spiritual practices.” (Wikipedia)

Many of us in the angelkin community are really forthcoming with memories and general information we’ve learned as time has gone on, which is amazing. However, I’ve noticed some issues with this. Many of these memories are taken as fact, for some reason. Leaving those who don’t share your exact same experience out, feeling invalid.

Leading by example, I’ll share my personal UPG.

I’m Sariel, Command of God. One of the (original) Seven Archangels, alongside Gabriel, Michael, Raphael, Uriel, Ramiel, and Raguel. I was a Watcher who was heavily involved in the creation of the Nephilim. I was punished for my crimes against creation, booted from my Archangel position, and sent into exile. I harbored no regrets for my creations. Eventually, I was permitted to come home, though it certainly was not easy.

I remember fighting alongside Michael on the battlefield in the moments before the Fall.

I remember being tried by the (new) Seven in front of the heavenly hosts for my crimes as a Watcher.

I remember a lot of things.

That is my UPG. That is my experience, my truth, and it can’t be verified. Furthermore, I recognize that not everyone will share this experience. And that’s okay!

We have this tendency as a community of needing to share all of the same memories. And I’m here to say that it’s okay if you don’t.

Your UPG is valid. Your truth is yours only, and it’s absolutely valid.

You experienced hardcore stuff? Rad.
You remember angel snowball fights? Awesome.
You don’t remember anything? Cool.

It’s awesome that we sometimes share memories! Revel in those moments! But we need to remember that it’s okay if we don’t all share the same memories. That no one experience is inherently correct or incorrect, simply because we think so.

Serious Post™ over.
Go team.