Put on the full armour of God. Arm yourself with gladness. Protection. A covering. Shield from fatal injury. You can still feel the blows but they won’t claim your life.
Her defenses went up immediately, crossing her arms, her eyes glancing anywhere but his. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have”
“It’s fine.” She said it with such jagged edges that clearly it wasn’t fine.
“Sweetie.”
“Don’t, okay? Just don’t say anything for a minute while I figure out how to feel.”
So I got tired of my jetpack I’m thinking in something better like iron man but only better a lite armor that can fly and its ready wow it looks like a miracle ohhh I’m going to cry pull it together old man you are a macho men do not cry so where was I yeah lets test it wow this thing packs a punch okay I’m in space help help oxygen.
you wake up every morning. you have your coffe, or tea, or orange juice, and then it’s time to go. every morning people wake up, and just before they step outside the door, they put on their suits and armor. just to be safe. just in case. just in case something would happen, whether it is physically or mentally. we build this wall little by little, every single day. i wonder, what would happen if we didn’t? what would happen if we gave it all up, and just put ourselves out there more. would it be fatal?
Metal crashed and hollered. Men screamed in agony and rage alike. Armored behemoths marched toward the city walls accompanied by wailing horns. It would not last long.
My breath was stuck in my throat. How could this be possible? How could he be alive after i had watched with my own eyes his funeral?
“Bianca” he whispered
But I could not say anything back. Little by little my armor started to break. I was standing there, in front of my dead not so dead father.
“Bianca” he repeated and made a moved closer to me but I stepped back
“You were supposed to be dead” I whispered still in shock
He nodded “You are right but this time you’ll be the one to die”
“Do you know why we’re called the Crimson Templars, newbie?”
“I’ve heard a few stories at the pub, sir.” The young novice replied to the seasoned general.
“Aside from the red-dyed armour cladded on our bodies, the Templars before us were once bloodthirsty assassins before they became valiant knights.”
“They were swift killers, always on the move. Very efficient.” The general continued on telling the tale to the newbie.
“The red came from all the blood smudged on their clothes from all the targets they’ve assassinated; the redder their cloaks are, the more sly and savage they are.”
“But they’re not typical mercenaries, they can never be hired, and they only kill bad seeds society; murderers, pillagers, molesters, the baddest of the bunch. Once, they killed a spy supposedly sent to kill the King. The kingdom recognized their actions and they were honoured, eventually these assassins became the King’s elite guards.”
“Fascinating tale, sir. Very different from what I’ve been told, but yours makes more sense. Was that from the history books, sir?” The newbie asked his general.
“No, some bloke from the pub told me.” The general replied.
It was strange, listening to her voice on the other side of the window, stripped of its malice and turned towards something softer. It was Dagger, but somehow it wasn’t. It was Dagger, but without her armour, and therefore not Dagger at all.
You wear it when you want to be protected. It is also something that can be invisible to the eye. A kind of mental barrier that is put up consciously or subconsciously.
Sometimes it’s made of iron and steel, rusting over years and standing now in museums, alongside the swords behind layers of glass. Sometimes it’s worn on the outside of people you meet everyday. Utterly invisible to the naked eye, just to protect them from the world
It is my first time so no need to worry about the outcome, right? after 3 years of theraphy i somehow come to the understanding that what i felt as the hand that supress me, making me feel like an outsider is originally a tendency to protect me from an omnipresent, illusional possibility of harm. An armor that limits me.
Protection, that’s what I need, protection, something to fend off the arrows and grappling hands as they drag to pull you down, preferably made of teflon so they slip off, some non-stick surface to allow protection from rain
We put on our plates, slip on our helmets, lest we walk into battle and the enemy ambushes us. But what are the real dangers but those to the heart, the ones that pierce through its walls and wrench us in ways that have nothing to do with blood and vessels?
Today I visited the exhibition Medieval Symbols and Splendour at the Queensland Museum, South Bank. Amongst the many relics and artefacts of the period known as the Dark Ages, two items stood out above all others; they were examples of the head armor worn by knights of the realm. These shining silver examples of ancient metalwork looked as though they belonged on a UFO not the Dark Ages.
His anger was from his fear. His hatred was armor to his heart. She walked through it time and time again. He never loved another like he did. He’ll never like he has ever again.
It was a dreary Monday morning. Rain giving gray to the skies, hiding the sun behind clouds…
She sighed and pulled her heavy armor from the shelf. It was strong, and had kept her safe in many battles, just like the one she was about to enter. The metal was smooth under her touch as she put it on and prepared to fight for her kingdom.
Put up your armor in secret don’t let them see you in your weakness consuming you from the inside of your heart spreading outward into your fingertips tingling with rage and fear.
Fear of them finding the chinks in your armor
It’s the thing I’ve built over years of fighting without a sword.
Hard, chiseled plates that cover my weak points. Where I formerly could take nothing, I can now take armies.
It’s something that I recently discovered that I am absolutely horrible at keeping in one piece.
One shout is all that it takes. Yell at me, and my chainmail breaks apart from the inside. I could never handle criticism well, and yours pierces right through me.
“Get your little sixteen-year-old self and your smart ass out of my room.”
Armor is a shield that protects. We can be protected in many ways with armor that can either be physically, mentally or emotionally. It is also important to know when to let the armor come down or off so that we are able to still receive things that we need.
We are going to war charlie, do you have any idea how much pain that we are gonna feel!!, pay attention and put your armor on ’cause we’re going on a long ride
the character wears an armor. not just a metaphorical one: not just a thick armor around his heart (though one could argue there was a little bit of that too– but very little, his heart expanded so much daily that no armor could keep up with that)
no, the armor was a well oiled one, made from metal and steel, barely grinding, almost sparkling, if there weren’t a few nicks here and there.
Steve mined for diamond to make diamond armor. He mined and mined until he found a secret place that his teammate store all of his diamond, gold and emeralds. He took the diamond went back to his house and crafted his diamond armor.
Steve mined for diamond to make diamond armor. He mined and mined until he found a secret place that his teammate store all of his diamond, gold and emeralds. He took the diamond went back to his house and crafted his diamond armor
By the time I made it to the wounded knight, I could see the gaping cracks and gashes in her once beautiful silver armor from about a mile away. I knelt down beside her, trying not to focus too much on the red seeping through the tunic that was now torn beneath her chestplate.
“It’s nothing,” she tried to tell me, lifting up her visor in order to cough. “Really. Just some cuts.”
“I take no chances, m’lady,” I replied humbly, opening up my bag as the carnage around me continued to spread.
She wore it like armor. What it was, exactly, she never knew, but it was plain to see that whatever it was protected her from herself.
She hated herself, and this was not news to anyone.
The shiny plates of armor upon the royal knight were becoming cracked and fatigued from the many years of battle they endured. Still, they pushed on and served their knight faithfully. He would wear the same armor for many years until the day he had his heart cut open by a sword.
Put on the full armour of God. Arm yourself with gladness. Protection. A covering. Shield from fatal injury. You can still feel the blows but they won’t claim your life.
Her defenses went up immediately, crossing her arms, her eyes glancing anywhere but his. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have”
“It’s fine.” She said it with such jagged edges that clearly it wasn’t fine.
“Sweetie.”
“Don’t, okay? Just don’t say anything for a minute while I figure out how to feel.”
So I got tired of my jetpack I’m thinking in something better like iron man but only better a lite armor that can fly and its ready wow it looks like a miracle ohhh I’m going to cry pull it together old man you are a macho men do not cry so where was I yeah lets test it wow this thing packs a punch okay I’m in space help help oxygen.
you wake up every morning. you have your coffe, or tea, or orange juice, and then it’s time to go. every morning people wake up, and just before they step outside the door, they put on their suits and armor. just to be safe. just in case. just in case something would happen, whether it is physically or mentally. we build this wall little by little, every single day. i wonder, what would happen if we didn’t? what would happen if we gave it all up, and just put ourselves out there more. would it be fatal?
LOL When I think of armor I think of knights in shining armor
because you know what they are hella hot
And then I think of medieval ages
and how I just asdfghjklsvtyuu
Metal crashed and hollered. Men screamed in agony and rage alike. Armored behemoths marched toward the city walls accompanied by wailing horns. It would not last long.
My breath was stuck in my throat. How could this be possible? How could he be alive after i had watched with my own eyes his funeral?
“Bianca” he whispered
But I could not say anything back. Little by little my armor started to break. I was standing there, in front of my dead not so dead father.
“Bianca” he repeated and made a moved closer to me but I stepped back
“You were supposed to be dead” I whispered still in shock
He nodded “You are right but this time you’ll be the one to die”
trying this again
“Do you know why we’re called the Crimson Templars, newbie?”
“I’ve heard a few stories at the pub, sir.” The young novice replied to the seasoned general.
“Aside from the red-dyed armour cladded on our bodies, the Templars before us were once bloodthirsty assassins before they became valiant knights.”
“They were swift killers, always on the move. Very efficient.” The general continued on telling the tale to the newbie.
“The red came from all the blood smudged on their clothes from all the targets they’ve assassinated; the redder their cloaks are, the more sly and savage they are.”
“But they’re not typical mercenaries, they can never be hired, and they only kill bad seeds society; murderers, pillagers, molesters, the baddest of the bunch. Once, they killed a spy supposedly sent to kill the King. The kingdom recognized their actions and they were honoured, eventually these assassins became the King’s elite guards.”
“Fascinating tale, sir. Very different from what I’ve been told, but yours makes more sense. Was that from the history books, sir?” The newbie asked his general.
“No, some bloke from the pub told me.” The general replied.
It was strange, listening to her voice on the other side of the window, stripped of its malice and turned towards something softer. It was Dagger, but somehow it wasn’t. It was Dagger, but without her armour, and therefore not Dagger at all.
amor
arma
metralhadora
escudo
brasão
armadura
You wear it when you want to be protected. It is also something that can be invisible to the eye. A kind of mental barrier that is put up consciously or subconsciously.
Sometimes it’s made of iron and steel, rusting over years and standing now in museums, alongside the swords behind layers of glass. Sometimes it’s worn on the outside of people you meet everyday. Utterly invisible to the naked eye, just to protect them from the world
Clothing type to keep you protected, heavy piece of metal around your body.
It is my first time so no need to worry about the outcome, right? after 3 years of theraphy i somehow come to the understanding that what i felt as the hand that supress me, making me feel like an outsider is originally a tendency to protect me from an omnipresent, illusional possibility of harm. An armor that limits me.
He protected her but she didnt appreciate it so his armor rusted as she used all the oil to shine useless things. I wanted his armor.She didnt.
Protection, that’s what I need, protection, something to fend off the arrows and grappling hands as they drag to pull you down, preferably made of teflon so they slip off, some non-stick surface to allow protection from rain
Knights used to wear armors because they had sword fights and didn’t want to get injured or even killed.
We put on our plates, slip on our helmets, lest we walk into battle and the enemy ambushes us. But what are the real dangers but those to the heart, the ones that pierce through its walls and wrench us in ways that have nothing to do with blood and vessels?
Today I visited the exhibition Medieval Symbols and Splendour at the Queensland Museum, South Bank. Amongst the many relics and artefacts of the period known as the Dark Ages, two items stood out above all others; they were examples of the head armor worn by knights of the realm. These shining silver examples of ancient metalwork looked as though they belonged on a UFO not the Dark Ages.
Maybe it’s not about how much armor you have on, but really knowing how to handle the blows coming your way.
You know, everything could be that simple if only we wanted it to be.
His anger was from his fear. His hatred was armor to his heart. She walked through it time and time again. He never loved another like he did. He’ll never like he has ever again.
It was a dreary Monday morning. Rain giving gray to the skies, hiding the sun behind clouds…
She sighed and pulled her heavy armor from the shelf. It was strong, and had kept her safe in many battles, just like the one she was about to enter. The metal was smooth under her touch as she put it on and prepared to fight for her kingdom.
Put up your armor in secret don’t let them see you in your weakness consuming you from the inside of your heart spreading outward into your fingertips tingling with rage and fear.
Fear of them finding the chinks in your armor
The once shimmering steel of his armor now lay tarnished. Specks of rust dotted the worn metal.
Heavy armour lay out on the floor. If it weren’t for the glinting metal, it’d be a hell of a tripping hazard.
“Oh, well,” thought the faerie, “I’ve only got to hide it for an hour.”
It’s the thing I’ve built over years of fighting without a sword.
Hard, chiseled plates that cover my weak points. Where I formerly could take nothing, I can now take armies.
It’s something that I recently discovered that I am absolutely horrible at keeping in one piece.
One shout is all that it takes. Yell at me, and my chainmail breaks apart from the inside. I could never handle criticism well, and yours pierces right through me.
“Get your little sixteen-year-old self and your smart ass out of my room.”
Yeah, thanks. I’ve been trying to.
Armor is a shield that protects. We can be protected in many ways with armor that can either be physically, mentally or emotionally. It is also important to know when to let the armor come down or off so that we are able to still receive things that we need.
We are going to war charlie, do you have any idea how much pain that we are gonna feel!!, pay attention and put your armor on ’cause we’re going on a long ride
the character wears an armor. not just a metaphorical one: not just a thick armor around his heart (though one could argue there was a little bit of that too– but very little, his heart expanded so much daily that no armor could keep up with that)
no, the armor was a well oiled one, made from metal and steel, barely grinding, almost sparkling, if there weren’t a few nicks here and there.
good ideas
Hard, steel, don’t let them in. Heart pumping prescious life: must protect. A glimmer of hope clangs as I walk the plank to a certain death…
Hard, steel, don’t let them in. Heart pumping prescious life: must protect. A glimmer of hope clangs as I walk the plank
“Polish your armor all you like,” I sneered. “It will still be nothing against a morningstar.”
“When I die,” he said calmly. “I will shine like a morning star.”
Funny, I thought afterward, warm in bed in the pavilion. He said “when”.
Steve mined for diamond to make diamond armor. He mined and mined until he found a secret place that his teammate store all of his diamond, gold and emeralds. He took the diamond went back to his house and crafted his diamond armor.
Steve mined for diamond to make diamond armor. He mined and mined until he found a secret place that his teammate store all of his diamond, gold and emeralds. He took the diamond went back to his house and crafted his diamond armor
By the time I made it to the wounded knight, I could see the gaping cracks and gashes in her once beautiful silver armor from about a mile away. I knelt down beside her, trying not to focus too much on the red seeping through the tunic that was now torn beneath her chestplate.
“It’s nothing,” she tried to tell me, lifting up her visor in order to cough. “Really. Just some cuts.”
“I take no chances, m’lady,” I replied humbly, opening up my bag as the carnage around me continued to spread.
She wore it like armor. What it was, exactly, she never knew, but it was plain to see that whatever it was protected her from herself.
She hated herself, and this was not news to anyone.
The shiny plates of armor upon the royal knight were becoming cracked and fatigued from the many years of battle they endured. Still, they pushed on and served their knight faithfully. He would wear the same armor for many years until the day he had his heart cut open by a sword.
You only think you know what armor feels like, it’s entirely a different thing to actually wear it.