knife buckle

In the Rough

part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4 (you are here), part 5, part 6, part 7, part 8, based on @skygemspeaks‘s prompt

Previously: Yuuri has survived his first day of being bodyguard to Crown Prince Victor, though not without drawing the suspicion of Prince Yuri and Otabek, the captain of the guard. Victor has proven to be quite the handful as a charge, and Yuuri is beginning to see what Otabek meant when he described the job as a “glorified babysitter.”

It takes Yuuri several months to get used to the new life he’s living, which is, in retrospect, a good thing. It isn’t permanent; can’t be, no matter how much he enjoys it. And he does enjoy it immensely, even if he’s really just doing the same thing that he would have been doing back home.

He spars with Victor during fencing practice, just like he sparred with his own bodyguard Minami. He helps tutor Victor in the ways of the other countries of the area, like he helped Mari. He goes on afternoon rides with Victor, the way he used to do at home, alone.

It’s different in some ways, he admits. They teach each other their native languages, so that they can communicate with more than just the common languages. Yuuri has grown used to (perhaps too used to) the feeling of having someone latch onto him like an overheating barnacle at night. He learns that the palace dog, Makkachin, has a particular fondness for things that he shouldn’t have, a lot like Yuuri’s Vicchan.

He learns that Victor is relatively useless in emergencies, like when Yuuri’s thoughts get to be too much for him. He tries, after that first disaster, to keep his episodes away from Victor, since it seems to cause him distress to see Yuuri like that.

He learns that though he shows it in roundabout ways, Prince Yuri has more respect for his brother than he does for anyone, even their father. He learns that for all that Victor acts like a bumbling idiot, he’s actually smart– so smart, in fact, that it terrifies Yuuri sometimes. He can also be serious and sometimes cruel when something needs to be accomplished and isn’t (though luckily that side of him doesn’t come out often). He’s highly tactile, and shows decorum only when it’s strictly necessary.

Yuuri also learns, on one particularly average day, that he’s possibly a little bit entirely in love with Victor. And that poses a problem for him, since he has always had trouble concealing his emotions. Luckily, it seems that in this case, Victor’s denseness isn’t faked; he truly has no idea.

All in all, Yuuri is happy here. For a while, he even forgets that he’s a prince; it’s still there, hovering just at the edge of his mind at all times, but he’s often too busy to dwell on it.

Fast forward three months, and Yuuri is rolling out of bed early for once. As he recalls, there isn’t much going on today. There’s a meeting with a foreign dignitary later this morning (he wasn’t told the name; he never is, and it never matters much. He just stands there, making sure that nothing suspicious is happening and hoping that it isn’t someone that would recognize him) and a few logistical things that need to be dealt with for the ball celebrating Price Yuri’s birthday. Unless he missed something in his briefing last night, it’s going to be a relatively easy day.

He gets dressed before waking up Victor. “Your Highness. Victor, come on. It’s time for breakfast and you know how your brother is going to be if he has to wait for you.”

Victor’s eyes are closed, but he smiles and pulls Yuuri down. “He’s always like that.”

Yuuri flails a bit, trying to keep his belt buckle, knife, and sword sheath from scratching Victor. It doesn’t leave him a lot of time to stop his fall, so he lands right where Victor wants him. “Victor! You could hurt yourself doing that!”

“I can’t hear you, I’m sleeping.” Victor gives an exaggerated snore and Yuuri laughs.

“No you’re not,” he says, still chuckling.

Victor laughs with him, opening his eyes. “What gave me away?”

“You don’t snore.”

“I knew it!” Victor’s voice is suddenly very loud. When Yuuri winces, he looks apologetic. “Yura always said I snored, but I knew better.”

That doesn’t surprise Yuuri in the slightest. After all, Prince Yuri has always seemed to enjoy giving his older brother grief. Yuuri gets out of bed for a second time, tugging Victor along with him. “Come on, get dressed properly. You have a meeting after breakfast.”

“You’re such a mother hen,” Victor laughs.

“It’s my job,” Yuuri says, straightening his own collar before turning toward the wardrobe to get out clothes for Victor.

Breakfast goes about as well as can be expected. That is to say, it goes as well as it ever does, with Prince Yuri making a fuss, Victor being himself, Mila and Georgi being obnoxious, and the Tzar looking to Yuuri to try to keep some sense of sanity. Yuuri, as usual, can do nothing but look back at him helplessly.

“Yuuri, let’s go have a bath,” Victor says after fencing lessons.

Before answering, Yuuri takes a quick glance out of the east window; the sun has risen past where he can see, so it must be close to noon. “You have a guest that should be arriving any time now, so I’d advise against it.”

“Exactly! I’m quite sweaty and I hardly smell very good either. Is this how you’d have me greet a royal visitor?” Victor clutches his chest dramatically, falling into Yuuri’s arms.

Yuuri, as is his instinct at this point, catches him. He really is lovely, he can’t help but think before blinking and shaking his head to recenter himself in reality. “Oh alright. But I won’t be joining you.”

Victor’s eyes widen and his bottom lip quivers in a pout that Yuuri should not find so adorable. “You’re going to leave me with Otabek?”

“Well, someone has to be around to greet the visitor, if you aren’t,” Yuuri says, grinning at the way the logic seems to hit Victor like a hammer.

He sends an errand boy to get Otabek, who arrives minutes later. He’d been right, that first day; Yuuri doesn’t call on him for help often, but there are times when he truly can’t be in two places at once. He and Victor are gone soon after, heading for the baths (though Otabek will surely stand outside the door) while Yuuri stays behind and waits for the arrival of the person who has been granted a royal audience with Prince Victor.

Mila runs up to him not thirty minutes later, panting that there’s a carriage at the gate. Yuuri makes his way to the throne room, apologies for Victor’s absence already memorized and ready to be spoken (hopefully without completely fumbling it, but that will be an issue all its own).

Those apologies die on his tongue the moment that the visiting royal is announced.

“Presenting His Royal Highness, Crown Prince of the Southeast, Phichit Chulalont!”

Destiny Hunter Build - Part 1: The Chest Piece

With Chicago Comic-Con less than a month away, I have been looking to put another cosplay together (Booker DeWitt is 90% complete, just gotta finish up the holster, piece of caaaaaake~)

I pre-ordered the Destiny Beta and fell in love with the game.
What better way to show my love than to make a Destiny cosplay?

I don’t know if I’ll be able to complete this in time but I sure as hell am gonna try.

I decided to go with the Hunter class because, well, that’s what I play and
I like the outfit.

DISCLAIMER: This is my first time even touching EVA foam/attempting to build armor, I am a total n00b and I have no idea what I’m doing.



- LOTS of reference pictures
- EVA foam (found at K-mart, $20 for a pack of 6 big squares)
- Posterboard (any color)
- Scissors
- Stanley knife
- Modpodge
- Tape
- Plastic buckles
- Superglue/hot glue gun
- Yourself
- Good music


What did you think? You’re just gonna start cutting into the foam all willy-nilly? NEIN. Sketch it out first. This is where the reference pics come in handy. If you happen to be part of the Beta, great. Launch your game and look at your character. That’s what I did anyway, due to the lack of reference pics so far….

(I apologize for the crappy quality pics, I took them with my phone because I couldn’t screenshot in game :( )

Now, if you hover over different parts of your equipment and press ▲, you can get a closer look at each piece. Cool huh?

Here’s the front of my Hunter’s chestplate….

And the back…

Using these reference pics, I did a rough sketch of what I wanted the armor to look like:

Not too shabby, huh? Once I was happy with my sketch, I moved on to the actual human-size template.

I got some posterboard and started drawing the chestpiece:

Then I cut it out:

Then I used that piece to draw the back piece, and cut that out too.

Now, time to test it out. Using tape, I fastened the armor to myself:

TIP: Have a buddy help you with this part, it’s easier than taping the darn thing yourself…


I had to make sure I was happy with my template piece before moving on to the real stuff, because I don’t have unlimited foam :[



I taped my template to my foam using painter’s tape so that it wouldn’t run away while I was tracing it. Using a sharpie, I traced the template on the foam.

Then I cut it out with a stanley knife. Cuts like butter :3

Then, using the same piece, I traced the other part on the foam and cut it out as well.


Ok kids. This is where things get dicey. I hope you’re ready.

For this step, I used a heat gun that I got from Walmart for $20-ish. 
It’s in the paint section, cuz it’s used to remove paint. (go figure.)

Now. This is going to take some trial and error, so if you get frustrated, it’s ok..because I sure did. 

I took my front plate and used my heat gun to heat it up. My first mistake was that I tried to heat the WHOLE thing at once. Don’t do that. It’s a headache. Do little parts at a time.

(I didn’t take a lot of pictures here, because I wasn’t sure how to best represent it…sorry :[ )

After heating, and bending, and heating and bending, eventually you’ll have something that you like!

Protip: DO NOT BUY “QUICK HOLD” glue. It sucks. You see that little white plastic thingy? It fell off after 20 minutes of just chilling there. I got Gorilla glue instead and so far, it’s working pretty well. Quick hold is right. Jesus. My issue now is that I have crusties on the back of the black panel and I have to get it off somehow…Moving on…

After shaping my front piece, I added some thinner foam to the front to add some dimension.

Then I shaped the back piece, which also took some trial and error…



Now, before doing ANYTHING else, I had to figure out how I was going to assemble the thing. And after a lot of frustration involving parachute buckles and nylon straps, I had a EUREKA! moment: Velcro.

I can’t put it on just yet, because I need to seal and paint the armor first.
I did do a test fit though, to make sure everything was good before moving on to painting.

Here’s my system though:

Using two foam pieces, I will attach the armor at the shoulders with velcro, which will be both easy to take on and off, and also be easier to transport. Perfect!
For the torso attachment, I’ll use velcro too to attach the two side pieces to the back plate for easy removal.

My dorky ass in pajamas, ignore the Brony shirt plz. (it’s really comfy ok)

Once i liked the way it fit, I moved on to adding a little bit of detail to make it look less plain. I taped different pieces of foam I had lying around to get an idea of what I wanted and once I liked the look, I Gorilla glue’d it to the plate.

I kinda improvised for this part, as there many different chestplate designs in the game… I’ll add more detailed pieces later on, but for the base paint job, I don’t want too many little pieces…


Okay, so this part I had to do some research to learn different techniques. Here’s the deal: EVA foam is extremely porous and painting it directly will just result in frustration. People use different methods like Plasti-dip, Mod Podge, PVA glue, etc… I decided to go with Mod Podge.

Following the instructions and experiences of master cosplayers, I mixed it in a bowl with a little water in order to obtain a “milky” consistency.

I applied about 3 coats of this stuff, making sure that my brush strokes were somewhat in the same direction. I may add more later…

Here’s what it looks like once it’s dry:



First off, I painted my pieces with black, then white

External image

Then I realized I made HUGE mistake… I used plastic paint on my armor… it started to crack when I bended the foam.

My salvation: Plasti-dip.

I had some black Plasti-dip I bought  but I didn’t think I’d actually use it… Turns out I did. So I changed my color scheme for my armor.
Which I prefer over white armor, to be honest!

A test shot with the velcro system in place, not too shabby. I realized this isn’t the most comfortable thing to wear. If I were to remake this, I’d use more flexible material, but I really like the way it looks so far!

It gave it a nice texture and restored flexibility I had lost, thank god.

Using some silver paint, I dry-brushed a rusty metal effect on the piece, I quite like how it turned out!

Added the Hunter emblem and some red paint all over.


A/N: Enjoy! 

Dean x Reader

Warnings: Angst, Swearing, slight fluff

Word Count: 1854

You didn’t know what happened; how it all went wrong in a matter of hours. Just yesterday you were laughing in his arms, stolen kisses in the dead of night, warm skin pressed up against each other. Now you laid on the ugly brown carpet ground of the shitty motel room you had rented out for a couple weeks somewhere in Montana. Your cheeks were caked with dirt and dried tears, yet you had no energy to take a shower and get yourself clean. Your duffel was discarded on the bed, blinds drawn down and muffled sobs escaped your lips as you tried to calm down. However, the ache in your chest was too great, too prominent. It felt like someone had sliced and diced your heart before throwing it into a blender. You couldn’t stop shaking. You couldn’t breathe properly. You couldn’t leave the damn room without tears welling in your eyes.

Keep reading

An Adventure Worth Telling (1/7)

Kelkat9 and I decided to explore the Mythological Creatures AU idea stemming from haimaee’s tumblr prompt about a crush who smells like smoke and turns about to be a bit more than human. And…voila! this and her brilliant 231 Farrington story (seriously, go read it if you haven’t yet - it’s going to be epic) were born! Enjoy two different takes on an interesting and a bit ridiculous trope! 

Part Two , Part Three, Part Four, Part Five


From her position facing away from the entrance, Rose heard the bell above to the shop’s door to tinkle softly and held her breath a moment. She glanced down at her watch and, yes, sure enough it was 9:15 and he was right on time. Taking a deep breath, she turned to see her favourite mysterious man approach the counter.

He was tall and foreboding, clad in a bulky leather jacket and black jeans, with his ever-present knit hat pulled low over his ears and the near-perpetual scowl chiseled on his stony face. He looked as though he had been carved out of the landscape of the universe itself, rough hewn and craggy around the edges. His nose was large, his cheekbones were sharp, and his bright blue eyes were as frigid as ice.

She thought he was gorgeous.

It was not a popular opinion.

She didn’t care.

Keep reading


Could you do a TWD imagine with Carl where you’re new to their group and you met in Alexandria and you’re the youngest and best fighter so you teach Carl a few things and he saves you from being killed by a walked? Thank you so much, and you’re Bellamy imagines are amazing ❤️❤️ - Requested by Anonymous

A/N: Aw, thank you so much - I’m really glad that you liked them! x

‘Is this really necessary?’ Carl asked, raising a somewhat sceptical eyebrow at the little assault course you’d created in the back garden.

‘No, I thought it’d just be entertaining to build this while the adults were having their meeting,’ you said scathingly, shifting a punch bag slightly because it wasn’t in the right place.

‘You are aware I’ve been out there since the start, right?’ he asked, shifting his sheriff’s hat slightly. You knew he felt awkward reminding you of that fact, given the solace that you’d all found in Alexandria and the fact that you understood what lay beyond the walls more than anyone else there, but you didn’t let it deter you.

‘And you are aware the last time I saw you fighting it was worse than seeing a chicken try to deal with all this,’ you countered, shrugging.

‘Did you really just compare me to a chicken, (Y/n)?’ he asked, his eyes narrowing.

‘So what if I did, Grimes? What are you going to do about it?’ you jeered, a small smirk slipping quickly onto your lips.

He took the bait, darting forward to try and take a jab at you. You ducked at the last minute, keeping your balance as you darted behind him. You nudged the back of his legs, sending him sprawling to the floor. The whole thing would have been rather comical if you didn’t think it necessary.

‘Woah, I can really see that facing Walkers has helped improve those skills,’ you said, straightening up as he rolled over, rubbing his face gently.

‘All right,’ he said, grimacing slightly as he sat up, ‘maybe I need a few lessons.’

The weeks following that initial training session contained more little meetups, you constantly checking his technique. Making sure that he knew how to handle himself in a proper fight while he did his best to help with your aim – not that you were that bad a shot, you just liked the idea of him teaching you a little something at the same time.

Yet during that time you and Carl had gone on a few excursions outside the wall, trying to put into practice all that you’d helped each other with. It made sense in theory, putting them to practical use, but things began to get a little hairy when you tripped over a root, snapping  a few branches and alerting the Walkers nearest to look towards you.

You had hastily tried to grab for your knife. The buckle caught though, making it hard to shift it in any way possible. A Walker lunged out at you from the base of a tree, its mouth looming closer to you as you tried desperately to pull yourself out of the mess of leaves.

A small whimper escaped your lips as you shut your eyes firmly, certain that this was it. A familiar sound echoed harshly in your ears. But it wasn’t one of a Walker attack. It was one of stopping one.

You slowly opened your eyes, just in time to see Carl stepping back, wiping the knife clean on the floor. There was a fear burning behind his eyes as he helped untangle you.

As soon as you were free you pulled him into a tight hug, letting the tears run down your cheeks.

‘Thank you,’ you mumbled into the crook of his neck as he gently rubbed the back of your head.

Carl pulled away, resting his hands on your shoulders as he surveyed you seriously. ‘Anytime,’ he said, giving you a slight squeeze. ‘I mean it, I’ll always protect you.’

A/N: Gif credit goes to the respective owners, I just found them on Google.

The Undeserving

She had left Camp Jaha without a gun.

There was a point where Clarke Griffin had stopped healing people and started killing them instead. She was trying to find her way back to that person, and she couldn’t picture her with a gun in her hand.

She had been on her own for several days now, waking each morning to pick a direction to walk in, keeping a steady pace through the wilderness until she grew tired, only to sleep and wake and walk again. It was late afternoon and she had kicked off her boots and was hanging aching feet in an icy creek, debating whether to throw the knife at her hip into the water when she heard the rustling of undergrowth and saw figures rising over the crest on the opposite side of the creek.

Clarke’s body went rigid at the sight of the Commander, a hand at her knife before she remembered her peaceful resolutions.
Lexa gripped her sword, hand tightening around it reflexively. The two grounders flanking her looked equally uncomfortable, though harder to read behind their face guards. Lexa’s red cloak stirred slightly in the breeze, her eyes a stark and bleached green against the kohl surrounding them.

Lexa cleared her throat.

“You are summoned—”

“No,” Clarke said, voice like a saw.

“I have been asked to—”

“No!” Clarke said, pushing herself forward to stand barefoot in the frigid creek.

“Clarke,” Lexa said and Clarke gritted her teeth at the way she said her name, like she could cut her tongue on the edges. Lexa opened her mouth to say more and Clarke could see her struggling for the words. Clarke narrowed her eyes at the Commander and Lexa’s shoulders dropped almost imperceptibly.

Lexa took a deep breath, focusing her steady gaze above Clarke’s head.

“As commanded I have searched for Clarke of the skaikru. She could not be found with her own clan, or in the forests surrounding. She has either left the trikru lands or been killed by it.”

Lexa’s grounder escorts shifted uneasily beside her, “Heda—”

“What?” Lexa snapped, “Do you see something your Commander does not?” Her sword hand shifted, and Clarke heard the faint click of metal about to escape its scabbard.

The grounder ducked his head, “No, Heda.”

“We make for Polis,” Lexa ordered, already turning away from the creek, “fetch the horses.”

“Yes, Heda,” the grounder woman beside her said, an instant before an arrow shaft buried itself in her neck.

Lexa drew her sword and twisted to the side in one fluid motion, the whistle of an arrow streaking past where her head had been a moment before.

“Ona tri! Jomp op!” Lexa roared, as she and her remaining escort charged forward to meet the attackers dropping from the trees.

Clarke scrambled up the creek embankment, grabbing the fur cloak of an enemy with his back to her and yanking him backwards, tumbling him down into the rocky creek bed.

Lexa was spinning and weaving, sword a silver flash in her hands, face furious as she plunged her weapon deep into the chest of a man with an axe in each hand, his body arching painfully on the blade.

“Heda!” Her grounder called a warning and Lexa spun to parry the blade sweeping towards her head. Lexa kicked her attacker’s leg out from under him, sending him sprawling to his knees. As she raised her blade to finish him, another assassin dropped from the trees, landing solidly on the Commander’s back, dagger slashing from her shoulder to her hip.

“Lexa!” Clarke screamed, already rushing forward before she realized it. Just as the woman raised her dagger to finish Lexa, Clarke bowled into her, the headlong tumble sending them rolling sideways together, the assassin kicking and grabbing at Clarke the whole way.

The woman landed on top of Clarke and slammed a fist to the side of her head, her weapon lost somewhere in their tumble. Clarke’s ears rang as the world spun. The woman grabbed for the knife still buckled at Clarke’s waist, Clarke clawing at her arms and trying to twist away. The assassin slammed another fist into Clarke’s head and sparks flashed in front of her eyes. The woman freed her dagger and Clarke grabbed for her hair, fingers tangling in matted braids as she pulled as hard as she could. It pulled her attacker off balance for the moment Clarke needed to punch a fist into her kidneys. The woman grunted from the blow, her body dropping slightly in pain and Clarke grabbed for her wrist, trying to wrestle the knife away from her. The assassin rained blow after blow from her free hand on Clarke’s head and shoulders but still she doggedly held on. Clarke’s world was just beginning to narrow to darkness when a force wrenched the woman off of her, body nearly flying backward at the ferocity behind the grip. Clarke panted from the ground as she watched Lexa, smeared in blood, her sword slick with it, slit the throat of the woman who had nearly killed them both.

Lexa spat on the body, sword hanging loosely in her grip, point slowly dripping blood. Around her lay eight bodies, ally and enemy alike dead.

“Lexa,” Clarke managed to gasp.

Lexa pulled her gaze up to Clarke, the effort of focusing her eyes looking as though it took all the strength left in her. She rocked on her feet, sword dropping from her grip.

“You’re safe, Clarke,” Lexa said, her body crumbling forward.

Winter's Cold Is Too Much To Handle || Open

 Fauna flung herself at the pirate ship and barreled into a pirate that she’d been watching called Jennings, a rather short pirate with slow reflexes. Slow enough for Fauna to quickly overpower him and tie him up, and short enough that she could fit into his clothes without looking too out of place. She shoved him into a broom closet, bound and gagged and muffling cries for help. The little one pulled on his trousers and buckled it to the tightest fitting; it still didn’t fit quite right, so she dug another hole into the leather with her knife and buckled up. Faun shoved her dirty, bare feet into his heavy boots, and laced them up. She tugged on his thick jacket, rolling up the sleeves to fit, and then propped his hat atop her mousy brown hair, tucking the loose ends up into the bowl of the hat. She tipped the brim so it rested on the bridge of her nose, but so she could still see where she was going. The little one refrained giggling as men passed her by without notice, with an occasional ‘hullo’ and even ‘good game last night, Jennings!” She was looking down when she bumped into someone and her cap went flying back. “Oh, shit,” she yelped, taking a step back and looking up.