#guardiangod

[ryugendo]

金剛力士阿形吽形; 脚 Fierce guardian gods; lower leg #金剛力士 #仁王 #刺青 #龍元 #guardiangod #kongourikishi #irezumi #ryugen https://www.instagram.com/p/Bq6yXxjFIsr/?utm_source=ig_tumblr_share&igshid=uqqorp5l8po4

[santaclarameditation]

(via 🛡️ What Is a Guardian God? The Power of Protection Through Enlightenment | Master Woo Myung | Santa Clara Meditation)

[lucky-field7]

守護神 〜摩利支天〜 Guardian God ~ Military god ~ #GuardianGod #Guardian #God #MilitaryDod #Marīci #Marici #守護神 #摩利支天 #仏像 #小田原城天守閣 #Japan #kanagawa #odawara (小田原城天守閣)

[vilmavega]

f you want to follow God, you even have to follow Him in your sleep. What does this mean? It means that you must trust him with every waking moment and with every wink of sleep. There is NO place for insomnia due to mindless worries and things that cannot be solved in the night and on your own. He has you covered!

Psalm 121:3-4. He won’t let you stumble, your Guardian God won’t fall asleep. Not on your life! Israel’s. Guardian will never doze or sleep.

[malachitemischief-blog]

Far Too Many Notes for My Taste

Loki woke early. He never truly slept well, but his inclination towards insomnia was only made worse by hunger, and with Thor camped outside his door most of the previous evening, his access to the kitchens had been blocked. After the fifth note, he had given up on ever leaving his chambers that night, and had instead opted to sleep through the rest of Thor’s siege. Surely he would have lost patience by morning.

Indeed, that seemed to be the case. Instead of finding enough notes to bind into a book on his chamber floor, there was but one lonely piece of parchment. Picking it up, Loki was mildly surprised to see how much Thor had written. This was no two-sentence entreaty to quit his room, as the others had been, but an actual letter, signature and all. And Thor would sign it with that particular epithet. Of course he would. For all that Thor was no wordsmith, he always managed to say just the things that would find their way through Loki’s nigh-impenetrable emotional armor. Perhaps it had less to do with the words themselves and more to do with the man behind them. And all that he was. Either way, Loki hatedhim for it. And that hatred was all he had to protect himself from the brotherly sentiments of his would-be-protector. A bitter chuckle escaped his lips at the notion of Thor wishing for his safety and happiness. He would have neither so long as the elder lived, and he had long since proved himself incapable of killing him. Thor’s disregard cut more deeply than the knives Loki had favored once upon a time. His love, if it could be called that, chafed worse than the bonds he had so oft been returned to Asgard in. And both burned like serpent’s venom. So, to answer Thor’s question, yes. He had to lash out. As far removed from what most would consider sane as Loki was, he was quite certain it was the only thing that kept him from outright raving madness.

He did not bother to place this last communication on the desk with the others, but crumpled it in one palm and tossed it away, not even paying heed to the direction in which it landed. He did not want to think of Thor, today. He wanted to have some breakfast and be as far away from the palace as he could manage before the other awoke as predictably late as ever. Of course, Loki rarely got what he wanted, and he recognized immediately that this was to be another such case, for no sooner had he opened his door than he spied Thor’s hulking form spread out in the hallway, back resting against the far wall and knees drawn up to his chin. If the disarrayed furs and abandoned water skein were any indication, he’d spent the night there. Loki pinched the bridge of his nose, only barely managing not to sigh in resignation. Loki was stealthy and Thor slept soundly. There was still a chance he could sneak past without rousing the oaf.

[malachitemischief-blog]

Seeing Red

Loki stormed into his personal chambers, slamming the door with such vehemence that it shuddered fearfully before settling in to stoically guard his privacy. He paced in wide circles between the foot of his bed and the large fireplace occupying the opposite wall, barely managing to contain his fury. He wanted to rip and tear; crush and smash; rend, crack and shatter. But he’d always preferred destroying others’ possessions over his own, and he had foolishly sought sanctuary in a room filled with nothing but his own belongings. He should have gone to Thor’s chambers. The honorable fool would be in the baths for at least another couple of hours.

A bath. Perhaps Loki should indulge in one, as well. It was a ritual that often served to calm his nerves, and after the past few days spent traipsing about the forest, he needed it regardless. He crossed to his wardrobe to gather a set of clean clothes, but made it no farther, for peering out at him from amidst his own greens, golds, and blacks was an equally familiar crimson—Thor’s cape. He smoothed a suddenly shaking hand down the material before prying it loose of its hanger to take a stunned seat on his bed with the swath of fabric clenched between desperate fingers.

He’d meant to return this to Thor the day after he’d acquired it, but somehow he never had. Something about that gesture had touched Loki in a way he could scarcely admit to himself, and so he had kept the garment, feigning forgetfulness each time he encountered it. Had that token of affection also been to satisfy Thor’s honor? And the night before? A different cloak to cover a different sort of chill. Had there been nothing more behind that, either? How much of the scraps of Thor’s kindness he so secretly cherished had he come by because of some misplaced sense of duty?

He meant to toss the cape to the floor, carelessly discard it in much the same manner as he had been and would be. Instead, he lay down on the bed, body curled about it and face buried amidst the fibers that still carried Thor’s scent.

[malachitemischief-blog]

Even Monsters Have Nightmares

It was dark and wet and cold – so cold that Loki thought even his breath must mist as it left his lips, if he could but see it. A slow slithering sound, sinuous scales against stalactites sent a shiver down his spine. A pungent odor filled the stagnant air, burned his eyes, tickled at the back of his throat, and as he leaned over to retch he found he could not move. Dread seized him then. He knew where he was, what had happened, what would happen, what horrible monster was lurking in the shadows.

Panic crept upon him like that unseen terror and he began to struggle in earnest, straining against the fleshy bonds that held him. He kicked and flailed and thrashed, but slick with blood and bile as they were, his chains would not give. His chest heaved with panting choked sobs, and his heart thundered in his ears. But worse than the paralysis, worse than the knowledge of what had been and was to come, worse than the fear and pain and anguish was the sense that, alone though he was, someone was quite near. That if he could just open his mouth and scream, then he would be safe. He need not be trapped here by the entrails of his youngest son, need not feel the acid bite of venom streaking down his face, need not suffer. Because he would be rescued. He opened parched and cracked lips to call out, to drive away the silence and hail his savior, but the only sound that escaped was the dry hiss of the grave. Each moment that passed in relative ease was worse than the last, because he knew his torment drew that much closer, yet none of his increasingly hysterical attempts to speak bore fruit. He writhed and gaped and struggled like a fish suffocating from want of water, while the drop of venom at the tip of the serpent’s fang only grew fatter.

Finally, finally it fell. And then Loki screamed.

[malachitemischief-blog]

Hunting for Harmony

Loki rose well before the dawn. He knew Thor would want to set out early and planned so that he could have some time to himself before the Thunderer barged into his rooms to haul him off like so much tack. He took  his time in the baths – the warm water always served to relax him, and he would need to stock up as much patience as he could if he was to spend the entire day with his brother. He dressed in aged brown breeches and a simple green tunic, leaving his glittering horned helm where it was perched by the bedside. The polished metal would be out of place in the forest, and would frighten off all their game. Instead, he pulled his unruly dark locks back into a low ponytail to keep them from his eyes. Lastly, he donned supple leather boots and gloves. His preferred weapon when it came to hunting was the bow, and while most archers only bothered to protect their drawing arm, Loki himself was ambidextrous. He supposed he could pick a side and stick with it, but then, his moods had always been mercurial (and he appreciated the versatility this afforded him).

Once he had finished dressing, he set to readying his packs. A change of clothes, some blankets and an extra cloak, a canteen filled with water, dried fruits and meats from the kitchens, and a first aid kit should his fool of a brother manage to injure himself – or worse, Loki. He strapped a full quiver of arrows to his back, favorite bow – an ornate silver-wooded recurve of elven make – lashed beneath it, and sheathed a hunting knife on his thigh.

The sun was just peeking over the horizon and Thor still had not shown. Loki paced about his room irritably, unpacked and repacked his bags, and cursed Thor beneath his breath. There was nothing he hated more than waiting. Finally, he gave up, sitting at his desk and opening a tome on advanced magical theory he kept for reference. He had no doubt Thor would come blowing in the second he became immersed.