#wool trench coat men

[americanjacketstore2]

American Nick Trench Coat High Quality Black Long Leather Jacket

Do you own the desire to be the trendsetter then Dana Welles Delany Double Breasted Turquoise Leather Coat is a must have on best quality and expert craftmanship.

BUY NOW

#long trench coat #black trench coat #long black leather coat #black trench coat women #black leather trench coat #long trench coat women #oversized trench coat #wool trench coat women #black trench coat mens #black trench #long leather trench coat #long black trench coat #women's trench coat with hood #mens trench coat long #long black leather jacket #black wool trench coat #wool trench coat men #oversized trench coat womens #black leather trench #maxi trench coat #trench long #puffer trench coat #womens long raincoat #big and tall trench coat #womens black raincoat #long black trench coat womens #longline trench coat #black trenchcoat

[bdsmsub67]

The Trench Coat Is the New Leather Jacket

The trench coat used to be a mere tool, a workmanlike way to stay dry. Starting now, it’s officially a style move that happens to resist rain. We’re seeing trenches in gloriously un-khaki colors: everything from plaid wool and expensive-looking flecked gray to dark-’n’-stormy black

By GQ Editors | September 22, 2015

#menswear #mens style #wool #wool coat #trench coat #wool sweater #men in jumpers #jumper #wool jumper #turtleneck #rollneck #rollkragenpullover #male photography #male portrait #male #male model #male beauty #hot male #fashion photography #fashion portrait #men's fashion #men's clothing #men's style #men's wear #gq magazine

[addictedbespoke]

Men Beige Wool Long Trench Coat Fall Winter Overcoat

This wool long coat's double breasted button closure, which gives a coat with a long silhouette a timeless appearance, your fall/winter wardrobe will have a graceful and elegant style with some modern personality.

Shop Now: https://www.etsy.com/listing/1371568854/men-beige-wool-long-trench-coat-custom?ref=listing_published_alert

#mensfashion #mens style #men coat #woolblazer #wool coat #trench coat #beige coat #long coat #bespokefashion #custommade #bespoke #addictedbespoke #menswear

[adawe-store]

Men's Winter Thick Long Trench Coat Military Coat

#fashion #military green coat #coat #military #long pattern coat military #army coat trench #green military trench coat #military trench jacket #men trench coat wool long #korea long trench men #long coat trench men

[harrysformenswear]

Choose A Stylish & Elegant Bridal Suit Collection For Special Day

Are you making your special day special with an exclusive bridal suit collection? Look no further than Harry's for Menswear. Our expertly crafted suits will make you look like a million bucks without breaking the bank. With our variety of styles, fits, and colours, you'll surely find a look that perfectly complements your big day. We don't just offer suits that make you look good. Our bridal suit collection is also made with the finest materials and expert craftsmanship, ensuring you look great on your wedding day and feel comfortable. Our Australian-made designs are tailored to perfection, giving you the confidence and assurance you need on the big day. Get ready to shine in style with our impeccable bridal suit collection.

#mens hats online shopping #men’s bets wellington #men's trench coats australia #wool suit jacket #tuxedo for men #tie pins for men #mens hats australia #wedding suits wellington #mens belts dubbo #buy cufflinks near me #saville row suit near me #luxury mens business shirts #mens wedding suit shops near me #wedding suits for men near me

[newtonsheffield]

You just know that Kate is gonna get so many requests from Burberry and Stella McCartney and a dozen other fashion houses to be the face of their countryside collections the minute they see her instagram post of her wearing one of Anthony’s knit sweaters while helping him with the lambs. And Anthony, bless him, is gonna accidentally become a model too.

Imagine poor Anthony hovering off to the side while they shoot Kate’s new Burberry campaign on the farm. He’s proud, obviously, so proud of his wife, and the line at the bottom of the photos that says

Shot on Location at The Bridgerton Wool Farm in Kent

Won’t hurt his business at all.

So there he is, handing out lemonade a little awkwardly while Kate sits, perched in a tree with a trench coat tied around her waist and a scarf trailing down to the ground.

“Did you make this?”

Anthony spun around, dragging his eyes away from his wife to blink at the wardrobe assistant, staring curiously at him. “I… I did yes.”

The woman smiled at him as she set down her glass, “Kate was gushing about what a sweetheart you are earlier. I get it now.”

Anthony cleared his throat, shrugging awkwardly, “Oh. It was easy, I have a citrus juicer. My sister got it for me for Christmas.”

The wardrobe assistant chuckled, “Well it’s sweet anyway. Are you ready to get changed?”

Anthony blinked at her, “Am I… not dressed okay? Am I embarrassing her?”

She laughed, turning to a rack behind her. “Did Kate not tell you?”

“Did Kate not tell me what?”

“Okay, don’t be mad.”

He felt Kate’s arms wrap around his waist from behind, her lips against his cheek. Anthony turned slowly, tucking his wife against his side as he narrowed his eyes, “What’ve you done?”

Kate grinned at him, “Maybe Burberry sent over some men’s clothes on the off chance you wanted to put them on and take romantic pictures with me?”

“On the off chance or because you told them I would?”

“I explicitly told them you would.”

“Kate!” Anthony groaned, setting down his tray of lemonade. “What am I supposed to do?”

Kate tugged him more tightly against her whispering in his ear, “Look very handsome which is very easy for you. You’re doing it already. And if you do this, I’ll wear this trench coat tonight with absolutely nothing underneath.”

Anthony let out a shuddering breath and spun around, “Jane was it? What did you want me to put on?”

#modern bruises #kathony #anthony x kate #kate sharma #kate sheffield #anthony bridgerton #molly’s asks and answers

[alchemistoftheend]

The Piper (Case #9220611)

Pre-Statement

Statement of Staff Sergeant Clarence “Lucky” Berry, regarding his time serving with Wilfred Owen in the Great War.

Original statement given November 6, 1922.

Date of Event(s): 1917-1918

Statement

Wilfred was the only person he knew that ever saw The Piper

tf does he have against poets???

“There was an emptiness to it and every time he tried to put the war into words it just sounded trite, like there was no soul to what he had to say”

Wilfred had a habit of trailing off and tilting his head when reciting his poetry, as though his attention had been taken by a far-off sound

They were assigned to attack the Hindenburg Line near Savy Wood, pushing towards trenches on the west side of St Quentin.

Wilfred was unusually quiet, Lucky attempted to raise his morale but he shushed the Sergeant, and turned his head to listen.

“At the time I didn’t know what it was he was hearing but it kept him silent”

During the charge, Lucky got caught in barbed wire and saw Wilfred

standing, blank-faced, and his head swaying to some silent rhythm.

then he heard it, a faint, piping melody

“It’s whistling tune was unmistakable, and struck me with a deepest sadness and a gentle creeping fear”

There was a single gun shot, hitting Wilfred before he was hit by a mortar shell, he didn’t return with the wounded soldiers

A week and a half later, a scouting party found Wilfred in a crater along with the remains of Joseph Rayner

a man had just died, and nobody had noticed except Wilfred

“I met the war.”

He said it was no taller than he was and had three faces. One to play its pipes of scrimshawed bone, one to scream its dying battle cry and one that would not open its mouth, for when it did blood and sodden soil flowed out like a waterfall. Those arms not playing the pipes were gripping blades and guns and spears, while others raised their hands in futile supplication of mercy, and one saluted. It wore an olive green, wool coat, underneath—where it was not stained black—was a body beaten, slashed and shot and until nothing remained but the wounds themselves.

The piper came to claim Wilfred, who begged for his life.

It paused its tune before offering him a pen.

Wilfred knew he would live to play its tune but it would return for him one day.

Wilfred was wearing the same look he had before the shell hit and for a moment I could have sworn I once again heard that music on the breeze

Since then, every time they went over the top he watched the soldiers faces

A few of the men seemed distant, and were slightly tilting their heads, like they were listening to the distant music

Those men never returned

to pay the piper

the debt of Hamelin, who for their greed had their children taken from them, never to be returned.

I began to wonder: were we the children stolen from their parents by The Piper’s tune? Or were we the rats that were led to the river and drowned because they ate too much of the wealthy’s grain?

Even now, I can’t hear Exposure without being back in that damned trench at wintertime.

“I can say without a word of a lie that across all the war I never saw a soldier fight with such ferocity as I saw in him that day”

I hasten to add that that statement is not given in admiration – the savagery I saw in him as he tore into a man with his bayonet… I’d just as soon forget it

I could have sworn that I saw him cast a shadow that was not his own.

“Almost over now, Clarence,” Wilfred said

He sat there staring quietly for some time, Clarence could I knew he was listening to The Piper’s tune.

Wilfred Owen died crossing the canal at Sambre-Oise two days later.

He stopped turned to Clarence with a smile on his face

At that moment, a trickle of blood start to flow from an opening hole in his forehead.

But here, the bullet hole simply opened, like an eye, and he fell to the ground, dead.

It was on that day the first overtures of peace were made between the nations,

Clarence believed that very moment, when Wilfred fell, that the peace was finally assured.

Post-Statement/Thoughts

There are no follow-ups for this statement as it is too old

Jon feels like he’s heard the name ‘Joseph Rayner' before

Let’s start with the entity of this episode, the slaughter

war and what not

First of all, Wilfred Owen is a real man who wrote war poetry and died a week before Armistice

tbh i’m a little scattered brained and don’t know where to start

not that this episode was overwhelming i’ve only sleep for about 2 hours

anyways, let’s start with the description of war/the slaughter

three heads

play its pipes of scrimshawed bone

scream its dying battle cry

one that would not open its mouth, for when it did blood and sodden soil flowed out like a waterfall.

The slaughter seems to also be associated with music

a faint, piping melody that silenced those who hear it and condemns them to die

it’s also disturbing to those who hear it

Lucky describes the feeling as “striking me with a deepest sadness and a gentle creeping fear” and the music brought Wilfred to tears

Wilfred Owen’s Exposure, now i could analyze this poem but it’s 7:28 am on a Monday so moving on

to pay a piper: an idiom that means to face the consequence of one’s actions/decisions esp when accepting the responsibility of choosing a particular course of action

Originating from the story “The Pied Piper of Hamelin”

the town on hamelin gets overrun by rats, spreading disease and ruining crops. the townspeople try to exterminate them and failed. Then, a man named Pied Piper offers to solve the problem using his magical pipes. The people agree to pay him and with his tunes lire the rats into into the Weser river and they drown. however, when the piper came back to town the people refused to pay him liked they had agreed, feeling betrayed piper decided to get his revenge. the next day, as the townspeople gathered in the church piper plays a different tune on his pipes to lure the children out of the town never to be seen again

so to pay the piper: the debt of Hamelin, who for their greed had their children taken from them, never to be returned

When Clarence says “were we the children stolen from their parents by The Piper’s tune? Or were we the rats that were led to the river and drowned because they ate too much of the wealthy’s grain?” i know that certainly means something 🫤

i’m so tired pls help

context woohoo, so when the slaughter or i guess the piper takes soldier were they being punished for the own greed for the greed or someone else’s

something something music

this was weird “but here, the bullet hole simply opened, like an eye”

it’s probably a stretch to say that this was the referencing the entity, the eye but idk

also wtf would The piper/slaughter give Wilfred a pen

“The piper came to claim Wilfred, who begged for his life. It paused its tune before offering him a pen. Wilfred knew he would live to play its tune but it would return for him one day”

ok now that i think about i believe this has to do with wilfred’s war poetry

i don’t know how to put it but i think the pen was for the Wilfred to immortalize the war. He wrote poetry well before he met the piper but at best it was described as trite, like there was no soul to what he had to say, but then after his encounter with the slaughter his poetry gains widespread popularity. Lucky (Clarence) himself, who described his work was lifeless, later says that he couldn’t help but feel like new works sent him back to being stuck in those icy, barren trenches

#rusty quill #the magnus archives #tma podcast #tma shitpost #magnus institute #jonathan sims

[teenagedirtstache]

Black leather trench coat by Yves Saint Laurent Mens and wool pants by Rowley by Cynthia Rowley

#detour magazine #jeff minton #yves saint laurent #cynthia rowley #1999 #90s

[goatskickin]

Clothing for men? Never heard of ‘em.

This time, the 3t2 and 4t2 clothing retexture I bring you is - jackets!

Included are:

- @whysim’s 4t2 conversion of @marvinsims’s Wool trench, with a completely *NEW* texture, sourced from TS2, TS3 and TS4 textures, AAS and this PSD by @executables-sims

- @memento-sims’s 4t2 EP08 Jacket Hoodie, with deepened shadows and contrast, and a more jacket-y texture overlay

- @itsdiamondeyesuniverse’s 4t2 conversion of azentase's That Man Coat, with deepened shadows and contrast, cool houndstooth and chevron textures on the jacket (AAS) and new ties (AAS and Xandher)

All jackets contain PSD’s for recolorists!

Download - Clothing for Men - Jackets ETA: now the dl link actually goes to “Goat_ClothingForMen_jackets.zip” - thanks @pforestsims! 😅

#sims 2 download #sims 2 cc #ts2 download #ts2 cc #ts2cc #sims 2 clothes #sims 2 clothing #ts2 clothes #ts2 clothing

[infinitycutter]

YOHJI YAMAMOTO DEFINES HIS FASHION FASHION PHILOSOPHY

John Duka for the NYT, Oct. 23 1983

Yohji Yamamoto may stand barely five feet tall, but his effect on world fashion in the last two years has been enormous. Many people at the recent Paris showings said he is the best of the new Japanese designers - a distinguished group that includes Rei Kawakubo for Comme des Garçons, Issey Miyake and Kansai Yamamoto (no relation). Some say he is the best anywhere. His fans use his first name when they discuss his clothes, a sure sign that a designer has arrived. Fashion experts and retailers are often inclined to exaggerate, but Mr. Yamamoto's influence is hard to dispute.

''When I started designing clothes 12 years ago, I knew there were two ways,'' Mr. Yamamoto, who is 40 years old, said in an interview. ''The first is to work with formal, classical shapes. The other way is to be very casual. That's what I decided on, but I wanted a new kind of casual sportswear that could have the same status as formal clothing. So I use fabrics that are heavy-duty, like army fabrics, or just look heavy-duty, to give the kimono shape a new energy.'' He spoke in English as he sat in his spare white and black showroom near the Les Halles district of Paris. The room, cavernous and brightly lighted, was filled with buyers, trying clothes on from his spring collection.

Loosening the Silhouette

What Mr. Yamamoto and the other Japanese designers have accomplished is a general loosening of the female silhouette. This they have done with large, loose-fitting garments, such as jackets with no traditional construction and a minimum of detail or buttons; dresses that often have a straight, simple shape, and large coats with sweepingly oversized proportions. In general, there is a generosity of proportion and size, often with the kimono as a starting point of design, and fabrics that range from fresh cottons to robust linens to heavy wools. All of this came at a time when women's clothes by most traditional designers were moving in the opposite direction, toward a snugger fit and formality.

For fall, one of Mr. Yamamoto's most successful coats is made of a pressed wool in mustard and brown that has the look of great weight but is as light as a raincoat and has no definable shape, except perhaps a generic coat shape. Worn with simple Western day clothes, a pair of black trousers, a black shirt and black heels, it is one of the chicquer designs this season. Moreover, it can be worn during the day or at night.

It is also a good example of the flexibility of Mr. Yamamoto's clothes because it shows that they work best when they are mixed with Western clothing. When the new clothing from Japan is worn on the street in exactly the same way it is shown on the runway, the result often becomes a shapeless heap of fabric. Mr. Yamamoto is aware of that problem.

''I've become very nervous myself about the volume of the Japanese clothing and the kimono shape, so loose and oversized,'' he said. ''If you go too far with a kimono, the final conclusion is just fabric. That is not fashion. The kimono is easy to copy but difficult to make work. It must be done in a technical way, or it becomes sloppy, too big and too baggy. That is why my new collection has shapes that are narrower. I wrapped the body very tight.''

Mr. Yamamoto also continues to break new ground with his men's clothes. His men's spring collection, for example, has sports jackets, in navy or black, that are loose-fitting, with generous, rounded shoulders and gored backs. They are made of 90 percent cotton and 10 percent polyurethane and, as a result, have the stretch of running clothes. There are ankle- length classic trench coats, in tan or black cottons, with shoulders extended by tailoring, not padding. The trousers, some with elastic waists, are loose-fitting. And there are black cotton pullover shirts with zip collars. What strikes one about Mr. Yamamoto's men's clothes is that they would work as well on women.

Men's Shirts, Women's Skirts

A number of women have, in fact, been buying Mr. Yamamoto's men's clothes in New York at the Charivari Workshop, Columbus Avenue at West 81st Street. According to Jon Weiser, who will be adding a 1,900-square-foot Yohji Yamamoto boutique to his next Charivari store, scheduled to open this fall on West 57th Street, women shop the Yamamoto line in his store by moving back and forth between the men's and women's sections, mixing men's shirts with women's skirts.

''I think that my men's clothes look as good on women as my women's clothing,'' said Mr. Yamamoto. ''And more and more women are buying my men's clothes. It's happening everywhere, and not just with my clothes. Men's clothing is more pure in design. It's more simple and has no decoration. Women want that. When I started designing, I wanted to make men's clothes for women. But there were no buyers for it. Now there are. I always wonder who decided that there should be a difference in the clothes of men and women. Perhaps men decided this.''

In the United States and Europe, Mr. Yamamoto's clothing is bought primarily by professionals, largely because of its cost. A blazer usually sells for around $500. But in Japan his biggest fans are students.

''I am designing for my generation,'' he said, ''but in Japan people are very much seeking the old way of life again. Sexual differentiation in clothing is more important. My major customers there are still the unversity students. My generation isn't ready for me yet. They think Yohji is not fashionable enough for them. They will see.''

#yohji yamamoto #long post

[ani-untitled]

subject/s: ateez yeosang & wooyoung (platonic) & hongjoong (platonic) + non reader oc

genre: mafia!au, angst

word count: 6,414

synopsis: There is no one that does not know Yeosang, the infamous district leader for the Baemjari Clan, the organization responsible for one of the main criminal networks that snakes its way through the city of Utopia.  He is famous for his coldhearted and ruthless demeanor towards all but the members of his own clan, specifically his childhood friends Wooyoung and Yunhee.  When a deadly explosion in the district costs Yunhee’s life, Yeosang and Wooyoung set out to find those responsible for her death.

author’s note: this is my first fic that i've posted on tumblr so please be kind, i'm very new to all of this haha.

this is also part of the ATEEZ Year of the Villain collab with @sanjoongie / @toikiii / @bobateastay / @flurrys-creativity / @defwoodz / @horizonmoonfics . click on their @’s to access and read their stories too !  

this is very loosely based on organized crime and doesn’t refer to any particular group or organization

warning/s: violence, cursing, mentions of drug abuse, child abuse, character death, angst

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It was a cold winter night when Yeosang met them.  He had slumped against the brick wall of an apartment complex, unable to move further due to the biting cold gnawing on the exposed flesh of his hands and face.  Barely able to feel his toes anymore, his threadbare clothes having long ago given up trying to protect him from the freezing wind whipping around his thin body, Yeosang waited to die.  

And then a touch on his shoulder, Yeosang had been so tired he could barely lift his head to see who was there.  A young girl, swallowed up in layers of clothing, reached out to him, her wool mittened hand a purple beacon of hope in the icy white surroundings of Utopia in the dead of winter.  Another figure stood behind her, slightly taller, a boy around Yeosang’s age.  He supported Yeosang who could barely walk until they reached a warmly lit building, guarded by two stocky, broadly built men.  They looked down at the three children and waved them in without a word.  

Yeosang was instantly dazzled by the golden light that bathed the room, it bounced off the crystal chandelier that hung in the center of all of the opulence that surrounded it.  There were large couches with maroon velvety cushions settled deep in their mahogany frames, and marble topped tables that offered a place for the golden trays of refreshments that glimmered invitingly, enticing Yeosang to look inside.  

“Where am I?” was what Yeosang was about to ask when he was interrupted.

A low and calm voice came from behind him and Yeosang whirled around, staring up at a slim middle aged man with long curly black hair.  He looked at Yeosang not like all of the other adults in his life had, with disgust, with annoyance, or with pity.  There was a glimmer of curiosity in his eyes.  This man found Yeosang interesting.  

“What is your name, son?”  

He asked, reaching out to touch Yeosang’s shoulder.  And wrapping around his pale forearm, was a tattoo of a snake.  

-

Cold water splashed onto Yeosang’s hands as he dipped them into the deep metal sink of an apartment that was not his.  He stared down thoughtfully until the red completely disappeared, swirling down the drain.  Patting his hands dry on the dish towel hanging on one of the kitchen drawers, he turned around.  

The man who owned the apartment was slumped on his own not so white anymore rug, the baseball bat he had swung at Yeosang’s head just a couple minutes ago dripping red and laying uselessly on the marble floor.  Yeosang’s henchmen finished dumping out the contents of the desk drawers and one of them wordlessly handed his boss the flash drive that they had come for.  Slipping the flash drive into the hidden pocket of his trench coat, Yeosang nodded at his henchmen and they picked up the man, dumping him in his living room chair.  Then one of them pulled out a phone and held it up to his ear.

“Yes, hello operator, I’d like to report an emergency.  A man in the Eden Villa complex on the 14th floor has been badly injured, please send an ambulance to come pick him up.”

Yeosang walked quietly past the man slumped over in the chair, stopping in the doorway to say, “I’ll be seeing you again, Mr. Choi.  Always a pleasure.”

The man did not respond.

Yeosang left the apartment with his line of men in tow and entered the elevator.   He pulled out the flash drive and slid his finger over the metal, a small feeling of satisfaction bubbling in his chest.  It was a small victory for the Baemjari whenever they had the chance to put the people in the community in their place.  Mr. Choi, as useful as a casino owner could be, had been getting belligerent, trying to slip more and more money from the pockets of the clan into his own.  That could never do.  It wasn’t even about money at that point, the Leader had said, it was about respect.  

“Don’t bite the hand that feeds you as they say,” he had said in that all too familiar soft and warm voice as he thumbed the blade of his trusty knife.  Yeosang had been sent on this mission personally, as he was one of the Leader’s right hand men, in charge of the district where the casino was located.  He didn’t get the opportunity to do these types of things much anymore, since his domain, the Black Cat district, had been subjugated long ago due to the work of himself and his friends Wooyoung and Yunhee.  

It was an additional benefit that the Utopian police force had been completely absorbed into the Baemjari’s influence.  Now everything was going almost too smoothly for the Clan, except for the occasional skirmish with lesser Clans that still struggled to hold onto what power and influence they had left.

When he first started to climb the ranks of the Baemjari, Yeosang had never imagined that he would surpass both Yunhee and Wooyoung but the Leader had had different ideas.  For one reason or another, he had pinpointed Yeosang as a future leader shortly after he had joined.  There was some kind of potential that the Leader AND his friends had seen in him that Yeosang had not realized until later.

 Now Yeosang a clan official, with Wooyoung and Yunhee as his right hand companions, was responsible for carrying out the will of Baemjari in the bustling Black Cat district of Utopia.  Wooyoung had slapped him hard on the back when the news of his best friends’ promotion had been announced, wrapping him in a warm tight hug.  

“I knew it, I knew you could do it.” 

Yunhee had hugged him tightly as well, her petite and muscular frame almost crushing him with affection.  When she pulled away, they all put their hands together, admiring the identical snake tattoos that adorned their left hands.  Symbols of their loyalty to a clan that had saved them all from certain death.  Shitty foster systems, shittier parents, and absolute fuckhead foster parents had all led them to each other.  Yeosang remembered the look in Yunhee’s eyes too well as she looked at them both, a mixture of pride, happiness, and the slightest hint of worry. 

 She never let go of the image she had of them when they were little, always having to tug them to their feet when he collapsed during fighting exercises, sneaking Yeosang her own study guides for the rigorous economic exams the clan held regularly for their young recruits. All three had been responsible for preserving each other’s sanity for many years of their teenage existence.  But it was especially Yunhee that was always looking out for him.  Often Wooyoung had too many of his own problems and would retreat into his own self doubt.  Yunhee was a lighthouse in the storm of their chaotic criminal careers, always having been someone he could look to for guidance.

“Why?” He had asked Yunhee one time as they lay down on the rooftop of the clan headquarters.

“Why what?”

“Why do you help me so much?”

Yunhee laughed. 

“Well, first of all, Wooyoung is beyond all help.  That would be a waste of time.  Second of all…”

She turned to him, resting on her side and poked him in the arm.

“Because I believe in you.”

-

(10 years ago…) 

That iron tang had become too familiar, it lingered in Yeosang’s mouth as he stared at the scene in front of him.  A man lay unconscious and bloodied on the floor, the result of their first mission gone horribly wrong.  Yeosang looked over and saw Wooyoung nearby, panting, sweat dripping off his forehead and a large bruise forming on his cheek.  A hand brushed against his back and there was Yunhee, mostly unharmed except a bruise wrapping around her neck.  Yeosang leaned on her as he spat out the blood in his mouth, coughing a bit in the process.  His lungs had taken a bit of a beating this time for sure.  Their superior Jung was standing over the body of the man, a look of distaste on his stony face.  That expression turned to the three newbies as he stepped over the body and left the store.  They followed him in a hurry, Yunhee sparing a worried glance at the woman cowering in the corner of the store.

Yeosang clutched the money in his hand, looking for the bag to shove it in.  Their first mission together, and went to shit too fast.  The convenience store owner’s son had had little trouble beating up a couple of preteens, and it was only due to their superior Jung that they were able to escape without more injuries.  Wooyoung wiped the blood from his cracked lip, his hand wavering near his left side, likely trying to feel for a new injury forming on his torso.  His face was pale, clearly the whole ordeal had shaken him up.

“Well, at least we got the money.”  Yeosang tried to cheer up his friends.

Yunhee shook her head, her face was somber as she looked through the door of the convenience store.

“They looked like they needed that money…way more than the Clan does.”

Yeosang’s mind flashed to the terrified look on the woman’s face when they came in, immediately spotting the snake tattoos that wrapped around each of the three’s left hand.  The money had been thrown on the counter before they even opened their mouths.  It would’ve been a walk in the park for their first job except her son came in, cursing them out as he swung his large fists at their faces.  After a scuffle, it had gone bad really fast.  Before Yeosang could blink, the man had Yunhee in a chokehold, lifting her off of the ground.  Then just as fast, Jung had intervened, beating the man unconscious in a matter of seconds.  

Yunhee was right though, the woman and her son certainly weren’t well off.  That much was obvious from the dilapidated state of the store on the outside. It was in sore need of a paint job, shingles hanging by a single nail from the roof, and a large crack across the sliding glass door.  Weeds had overtaken the flowerbeds and had begun to weave their way around the building itself.  

“Yunhee,” Jung placed a firm hand on her shoulder.  “You remember where you and your friends were before this, before the Clan.”

Yunhee nodded, her eyes leaving the store hesitantly to look up at her superior.

“The Clan comes first.  When the Clan comes first, it will work out for all of us.  We look out for our own.  Then the rest will follow.”

-

(Present day…) There was a buzz in Yeosang’s trench coat pocket, probably Wooyoung calling him.  It was around the standard time that he forwarded to him the updates for all of the happenings in his side of the district. Yeosang picked up the phone

“Wooyoung.”

“Ey ey ey,” Wooyoung’s familiar greeting made Yeosang shake his head, feeling embarrassed for his best friend.

“Do you have to do that every damn time?”

“Yes yes yes,” came the cheeky reply.

Yeosang sighed.  “Any relevant updates?”

“You mean you don’t want to hear what I had for breakfast? I actually went to Auntie Jo-”

“Nope, don’t care.”

“Well then…. not really?”

“I should just stop asking you to update me everyday if there is nothing good to update me about.”  Yeosang grumbled.

“Well…actually.”  Wooyoung’s tone seemed a bit more serious than before.  Even a bit hesitant.  “I want to talk about something in person with you and Yunhee, maybe tomorrow night?”

Yeosang shrugged, even though Wooyoung couldn’t see him.

“Sure, just tell me where and when.”

“Great!”  I’ll text you both when I figure it out but it’ll be in our usual spot.  I gotta go now, I’ll talk to you later.”  

“Sure, talk to you later.”

Just as he was about to put his phone away, it buzzed again. It must be Wooyoung forgetting to tell him about some silly anecdote that was tacked onto his otherwise uneventful day. 

He’d been getting involved with people outside the Clan again.  It rubbed Yeosang the wrong way that Wooyoung seemed to have more fun with them than with any of the Clan gatherings that they attended.  Yeosang had resolved rather grumpily that it was due to jealousy on his part rather than any real dislike for Wooyoung’s new friends.  Most of them were just normal shopkeepers, officer workers but one of them was a brand new police officer by the name of Hongjoong.  

Similarly to the whole of the Utopian police, Hongjoong worked very amiably with the Baemjari which is how he and Wooyoung had met.  Now the two talked almost every single day and even had lunch once a week.  One day Wooyoung even invited Yeosang and Yunhee to join them and Yunhee, never the type to say no to a chance to meet new people, had agreed rather enthusiastically.  Yeosang was a different story.  Chalk it up to the shitty past that Yeosang had had but he had no interest in bonding with outsiders, even outsiders that were in his pocket.  Wooyoung had never stopped asking him anyway and so Yeosang was surprised to see it was Yunhee’s number instead that flashed onto his phone.  

She wasn’t due to call him for another hour, though her calling early was not specifically unusual.  He spoke quietly.  His men turned away from him, giving him as much privacy as one could have in an elevator, checking their phones or pretending to listen to whatever communications were going on in their earpieces..  

“Yunhee, what’s up?”

The voice on the other line was familiar but laced with tension.

“Bombs.  In Sector 1.  I don’t have a lot of time.”

Yeosang felt the blood drain out of his face when he heard the tremor at the end of her words.

“I’m coming.”  He replied, struggling to keep his own voice from shaking.  “You get the hell out of there please, don’t-

“I’m not leaving until I get everyone out”, she cut him off sharply.  “You know me, Yeosang.  Please just, can you stay on the line?”

“Of course,” Yeosang replied shakily. “I’m not leaving you for one second.”

-

“You know I’m going to ask you again,” Yeosang teased as he and Yunhee walked home that night.  He was tempted to poke the large bruise that was forming on her cheek but knew that she would definitely do the same damn thing back if she ever got the chance.  Instead he playfully linked arms with her, knowing that she was too tired to jerk away from him.

“Don’t ask then,” she grumbled, her other hand reaching up to feel her cheek.  

Yeosang sighed, his joking attitude fading.  This was the third time in just a couple weeks that she got into a fight trying to defend the kids around their age that had already thrown their whole life into a cycle of drug and alcohol abuse.

“Why do you even bother to help them?  They never learn, doing the same old shit over and over again, the assholes targeting the same people over and over again.  That girl today wasn’t even grateful, she looked at us like we were damn freaks.”

Yunhee paused and sighed.

“I mean we did beat the shit out of four kids that got like three years and two feet on us.  Call me a dumbass if you want but-”

“Yeah I already do that.”

She punched his shoulder.

“I just can’t stand by and watch them get bullied.  Not for something that we’re basically responsible for.”

Yeosang frowned.  

“We’re not responsible though.  The Baemjari only sell drugs to adult dealers, it’s not our problem if they pawn it off to kids our age that are dumb enough to go looking for it.”

“You know it’s not that simple,” Yunhee sighed.  “I just…I don’t know.”

He tousled her hair fondly.

“Hey, I got your back.  If you want to beat up those assholes again, you got me as back up. Woo and I both. We got your back.”

-

Car horns blared as Yeosang’s car shot through traffic, weaving and bobbing, stop lights be damned.  He could feel his hands trembling as he gripped the steering wheel harder.  Yunhee’s voice was soft and comforting in his ear as she conversed with the Sector 1 residents, doing her best not to frighten them as she guided them outside. 

Sector 1 was a financially booming complex, but its success was not due to trendy new cafes and bistros but to the multitude of well established family businesses that had been housed there for decades.  It had far surpassed just being a front for the Baemjari practices, all which happened in the office levels above, it was a hidden gem in the Black Cat district full of amazing food, homemade goods, and a tight knit but welcoming community. 

Whoever had placed that bomb couldn’t have not known that its victims would be families and elderly couples, not just the Baemjari.  This sentiment didn’t mean much to Yeosang, but to Yunhee,  it was another home outside of the clan.

In the background further, he could hear the sound of the fire alarm that she had undoubtedly pulled to get people out faster. It took everything in his power to not scream at her to just leave.  He wanted to beg, to plead, grovel, anything.  

“Yunhee,” was all he could say.  

Yeosang could hear a slight pause in her conversation before she continued.  A beeping sound alerted him to one of his men calling in.  He cursed.

“I’ll be right back, Yunhee.”

He switched to the other call.

“Give me something.  You better have a fucking name.  Who planted the bomb?  Where are they?”

There was silence on the other side for a second before Yeosang’s subordinate finally spoke.

“We have a couple leads, nothing concrete.  I’m sorry, Kang.”  

Yeosang cursed again.

“Send me whatever you have.”

He switched his call back to Yunhee.

“Yunhee?”

There was only the sound of the alarm.

“Are you there?  Talk to me goddamnit, don’t stop talking.”

More silence.

“Yunhee!”

Finally her voice.

“I’m here.”

Yeosang’s relief was immediately replaced with dread when he heard the tremor in her voice.

“Yunhee, what’s wrong?  Did you get out?  Are you okay?”

“I can’t find him.”  She whispered.  “I have to go back in.”

“What do you mean?”  Yeosang grew frantic, his eyes darted to the mapping on his phone.  “I’m almost there, Yunhee what the fuck is going on?  Why can’t you leave?”

“I got most of them out but I can’t find one of them.  I can’t leave until I find him.  He’s just a little kid, he got lost I-”

“Yunhee, I’m coming.  Don’t you fucking give up, please for the love of God.”  Yeosang begged her, his throat beginning to choke up.

“I don’t have enough time, I’m sorry Yeosang…I’m sorry I have to go back-

Yeosang’s car shot into a tunnel just then and the call faltered before dying completely.  He cursed loudly and slammed the gas pedal even harder.  Once he left the tunnel, he tried to call Yunhee again but she didn’t pick up. 

Again and no response.  

Again. 

And again. 

Then a loud explosion, and the whole Black Cat district shuddered as the Sector 1 complex collapsed.

-

The Sector 1 complex was now a pile of smoking debris and small fires that had not yet been extinguished by the rescue crew that were still struggling to make it through all of the rubble.  Yunhee must’ve had one of the clan members call them before the buidling even collapse.  Yeosang spotted a couple familiar faces talking intently to some of the police officers gesturing wildly as they tried to explain what was going on.  The residents that had made it out in time were huddled in groups near ambulances, watching fearfully as the police and firefighters picked through the collapsed building, looking for survivors.  Yeosang grabbed at the yellow tape blocking off the area and tossed it aside. He could tell that some of the crew didn’t recognize him and they approached him quickly, beginning to explain that he couldn’t be back here.  

They were stopped dead in their tracks when he flashed his right hand and their eyes rested upon the serpent tattoo.  Furthermore he slid his trenchcoat aside to reveal the metallic sheen of the gun holstered on his belt. 

“Get the fuck out of my way.”  

They scattered like cockroaches and those that didn’t were immediately shoved aside.   As they backed away, staring at him, he wondered if they noticed how shaky his hand was.  Yeosang kept moving quickly towards the smoking building until he heard the loud honking of a familiar car and whirled around.  Wooyoung leapt out of the car and, flashing his hand and gun, also pushed his way to Yeosang.  He noticed immediately that Wooyoung was shaking, his eyes crazed as he scanned the remains up and down.  

“Yunhee?  Did she get out? What the fuck is going on?!”

Yeosang swallowed, trying to control the fear that leaked into his voice.  

“I don’t know, the call died when the building collapsed, “ he managed to get out.  “We need to get inside somehow.”

Wooyoung ripped a couple of gas masks out of the hands of the firefighters and handed one to Yeosang.  He gripped his best friend’s shoulder tightly for a second, meeting his eyes before moving towards the scene.  Yeosang felt a bit of comfort as he watched Wooyoung push his way inside, knowing that he understood and felt every single bit of pain that his best friend was going through.

The amount of smoke and air pollutants inside was almost overwhelming and Yeosang forced himself through its fog, looking desperately for any sign of his best friend.  He called her name as much as he could, trying to maintain his own breathing.  Wooyoung did the same as he overturned pieces of furniture, remnants of many livelihoods that had been lost in that explosion.  As they continued to search inside, it became harder and harder to breathe.  Yeosang grabbed onto Wooyoung, gritting his teeth as he tried to regulate his breathing.  

“We need to move faster.  She could be farther inside the rubble.”

Wooyoung didn’t even look back at him but continued to help them both move through the debris.  As time passed Yeosang became more and more panicked at the idea that maybe they wouldn’t be able to find her, maybe Yunhee had died all the way down at the bottom.  He gripped Wooyoung’s hand even tighter and Wooyoung squeezed back.

“We’ll find her, she’s fine, we just need to get to her and take her to the hospital and-

He didn’t finish his sentence and they continued on in silence.  For a couple hours, they searched and many others joined them, having taken care of the other survivors who they already rescued.  

“Fuck.”  Wooyoung let go of Yeosang’s hand to rub his face.  When he looked back at Yeosang, his familiar features were smothered with ash and soot from his dirty glove.  “I…I don’t know where she could be.  God….  There’s so many places to look.”

In that moment as Wooyoung sat there, Yeosang continued to search, tearing away sections of debris with his bare hands, until his hand hovered over human skin.  

“Here!”

Yeosang began to fling the debris aside frantically, trying to uncover more of the person that lay trapped inside.  But he stopped when he noticed a familiar tattoo adorning the back of her left hand.  

“Oh god…” Wooyoung whispered.

-

(10 years ago…)

When the bullet pierced the man’s skin, Wooyoung could feel his knees collapse from under him.  He crumpled to the floor, watching the man he had just killed slump over in front of him, blood pooling from the hole in his forehead.  The gun that had just been held tightly in both of his hands, he let slide to the floor as he stared at the man and then at nothing.  The skirmish between the clans slowly ended around him as their enemies were forced to flee lest they be downed as well.  As their enemies scrambled away, Yunhee and Yeosang ran up to Wooyoung who was still on his knees, his eyes glazed over.  

“Are you okay?”  Yunhee began to check him all over for gunshot wounds and other injuries while Yeosang felt for the pulse of the man that lay in front of them.

“Dead.”  Was all that Wooyoung could manage.  He wanted to throw up.  He wanted to cry.  He wanted to do something.  But he couldn’t move.  Yunhee pulled him into a hug and he could feel her tears wet his shoulder as she rubbed his back.

“It’s okay, Wooyoung it’s okay.  I’m so sorry…”

“You didn’t have a choice,” Yeosang stood over the two, his eyes never leaving the body on the floor.  “I remember when I…killed for the first time. “And I’d do it over and over again, if it means keeping both of you safe.” 

Wooyoung’s stomach twisted as he realized that he didn’t know if he could do the same.  

-

The sun had completely disappeared from the sky as Yeosang stepped out of his car.  Moonlight flashed against the metal of Yeosang’s gun as he held it on his side against his leather overcoat.  He stared at the warehouse that loomed in front of him, inside was the bastard who murdered his best friend.  Yeosang pulled the hood over his head to conceal his bright platinum blonde hair and began to move closer.  There was not a sign of life in sight as he had ordered his men to leave the warehouse.  This was his revenge to take alone.  

The warehouse door was barely open, a crack of light streaming through.  It was ice cold, an unforgiving light that held no warmth for anyone that it happened to touch.  That single light dangled in the middle of the warehouse as Yeosang slipped inside and moved down the side corridor quickly.  He pulled out his small flashlight and turned it on just low enough that he could see in the dark.  Finally he came upon the room that his enemy was in and he tucked the flashlight away, replacing it in his hand with the knife that was always tucked in his boot.  

The man was handcuffed and zip tied to a chair, knocked unconscious with a bag over his head.  As Yeosang approached him, the desire to spill this man’s blood coursed aggressively through his whole body.  He lifted the bag from the man’s head and awakened him with a slice across his left arm.  The man’s eyes shot open, his body tensing up as he saw Yeosang before him.  He stifled a grimace as he looked at the cut and instead looked at Yeosang straight in the eye.

“We finally meet.”  

Kim Hongjoong. A police officer.  A mass murderer.  Yunhee’s killer.  Wooyoung’s friend.

Yeosang sliced through the skin of Hongjoong’s wrist and watched the blood stream down his arm, dripping onto the concrete floor.  He wiped the knife off on the man’s own clothes, and Hongjoong cursed at him.  Then it was Yeosang’s fist connecting with the bastard’s jaw, a satisfying crunch signifying that he had surely punched out a tooth.  The blood began to dribble out of Hongjoong's lips too and yet he stared at Yeosang defiantly, not a single cry or groan of pain.  

Still yet, Yeosang could hear his heaving breaths, and was sickly amused at the fact that Hongjoong was trying to hide his pain from him.  

“Brave fucker,” he sneered, as he grabbed Hongjoong by the face and suddenly they were only centimeters apart.  “So much strength, so much restraint. And yet you try to bomb a residential complex, with dozens of innocents still inside?”

Hongjoong averted his eyes, and Yeosang felt him grit his teeth.  The comment indeed got to him then.  Yeosang dropped his face and backed away, slipping his gun out of its holster.  He slowly began to load the bullets into the chamber, his eyes never leaving his victim.

“Do you know who you killed?  Do you know why I’m here?”  He asked.  “It’s not for all of those children you murdered…and all of those good hardworking honest business owners, for shame.”  

Yeosang cocked the gun.

“I don’t care about any of those little shits.” 

He moved over to the man, pushing the gun barrel down his neck, letting the ice cold metal slide across the man’s blood slicked skin.  

“You killed my family.”

Visions of Yunhee flashed through Yeosang’s mind at that moment and his throat choked up.  He slashed at Hongjoong with his knife, his hands shaking so bad that he almost dropped the weapon afterwards.  

“My.

fucking.

family.”  

With each words he sliced a new gash on Hongjoong’s face.  The bastard hissed in pain, his hands writhing as he struggled to free himself.  

“And what about you?”  Hongjoong snarled.  “Do you think I did this because I didn’t lose anything?  I’m not a goddamn psychopath like you Clan bastards.  You took something from me too.”

Yeosang had done his research.  Hongjoong’s older sister had gotten involved with the Baemjari when he was still just a kid.  She’d gotten addicted to some of the many drugs that the Clan facilitated throughout the city and overdosed a couple years after.  Now Hongjoong was a police officer hell bent on making the Clan pay.  Some sick kind of vengeance.

“I know all about your goddamn sister.”  Yeosang snapped.  “And your revenge is you kill more of your “innocent” people then?”  

He spat in his face, pointing the gun again at Hongjoong’s forehead.  “Don’t pretend to be above me.”

Hongjoong bristled, hatred burning in his eyes.

“Fuck off.  Just kill me already.”

Suddenly the door flew open and there was Wooyoung.  His eyes darted back and forth, quickly analyzing the situation before him.

“What the hell is going on?”  He demanded, pushing his way in between the two and shoving Yeosang’s gun away from Hongjoong’s face.  

“Get out of the way.”  Yeosang pointed the gun again at Hongjoong over Wooyoung’s shoulder.  “This friend of yours killed Yunhee.”

A look of understanding dawned upon Wooyoung’s features and he grimaced.  Gently, he reached for Yeosang’s gun.

“Let’s, let’s talk about this, Yeosang, please.”

Yeosang backed away, confused, his grip tightening on his gun.  He could feel his stomach begin to knot as if he knew subconsciously that something was not right.

“Then you tell me, Wooyoung, why you didn’t kill him yourself just now.  HE KILLED YUNHEE he-"

“I know."  Wooyoung stared straight into Yeosang’s eyes as he moved closer to his friend, his hands raised.   "I know.”

“T-Then why??”

“I need him, Yeosang.”  It was as if he could barely get the words out.  “I need him…alive.”

“The fuck you do,”  Yeosang sputtered in disbelief, the nausea churning his stomach continuing to worsen.  He looked into his best friends eyes desperately, searching for some reasoning that he could understand.  “What the hell is going on?  Didn’t you hear me?”

“I…I’m working with him.  I left the Clan, Yeosang.”

Yeosang’s head began to spin but he only held the gun closer to his body, recoiling away from his friend approaching him.  

“What….what do you mean?”

He could see real pain in Wooyoung’s eyes then.  Real anguish.

“I couldn’t do it anymore.  All of this shit, we have to do as Clan members.  I can’t do it.  Do you know…how many people we actually kill, Yeosang?”

Wooyoung began to pace the room, his hands reaching up to aggressively rake through his hair and across his arms in a painful anxiety. 

“Not just in clan skirmishes, not just stupid rich fucks that get tired of dealing with us.  Parents….husbands…wives…daughters… sons.  We kill kids, Yeosang.  Just not with our own guns, with our bare hands.  I’ve…killed so many children…orphaned so many more with this drug trade that I’ve been helping run for over a decade now.”

He pointed at Hongjoong in the chair, his whole body visibly shaking.

“We left him an orphan too, Yeosang.  I couldn’t stand it.”  Wooyoung forced the word out as if it was agonizing to let go.  “I can’t live with myself like that anymore.”  

In a swift move, Wooyoung had grabbed onto Yeosang’s arm, staring up into his eyes despairingly.

“Don’t you understand?  Please…please let him go.  I never knew he thought he would do this. We’ll figure it out together. Just let him go for now and we can be done with this.”

This couldn’t be happening.  Wooyoung…siding with the man who killed Yunhee…his best friend….his family.

Yeosang snapped, ripping his arm away from Wooyoung.  He stalked over to Hongjoong and dug his fingers into his throat, clutching him in a vice grip.  

“What part of this don’t you fucking understand,” he screamed back at Wooyoung, his eyes wild.  “HE KILLED OUR BEST FRIEND.  HE KILLED OUR FAMILY.  THIS FUCKING PSYCHO.  WHY ARE YOU DEFENDING-”

He was cut off by Wooyoung backhanding him across the face, knocking him to the floor and causing him to almost lose grip of his gun.

“Get a hold of yourself,” Wooyoung stood over him, his face twisted sickeningly with agony and desperation as he tried to convince Yeosang of his side.  “He might’ve messed up but he’s the only one that can help us, he’s part of the force, together we can convince more people to turn against the Clan we can-”

He was interrupted with the sound of a gunshot ringing in the air.   

-

(12 years ago…)

“Are you sure it’s him?”

Wooyoung slid his arm around Yeosang’s waist gently, letting the other boy lean his head against his as they looked at the body that lay before them in the city morgue.  Yunhee, who was also nearby, squeezed Yeosang’s hand, a look of concern distorting her usual cheerful face.  

“Yeah it is him.”

Although the decomposition of the body had already been progressing for a couple days, Yeosang could never mistake the face of his abuser.  His former foster father lay very much dead on the table. A member of the Clan had found him stuffed in a dumpster as they were doing their rounds in the district.  

When asked what the reason would possibly be for his death, the Clan member mentioned that he had likely gotten into a scuffle during a non Clan related drug deal gone wrong. Judging from the knife wounds that were plentiful all over his grotesque body, it wouldn’t be an inaccurate guess.  

Yeosang had been first hand exposed to his former “father”’s penchant for many of the drugs that made their way around the Black Cat district.  After all, the money that they had received from the government for their care of Yeosang and his fellow “siblings” had certainly not been used for anything like food, clothing, and other necessary supplies for raising six children.  Instead all he received from his foster parents was the most simple of meals: rice and sometimes kimchi or an overcooked hunk of meat.  Maybe bread one day.  Maybe a piece of candy one day for each kid if his foster mother didn’t use all of the money for a new dress for herself.  And what he received from his foster father were just beatings, brutal slaps or punches if he dared try to stand up for himself.  The best nights were when he was out for so long with his friends, that Yeosang didn’t see his father for the whole day until he stumbled in sometime the next evening, too hungover and drugged up to do anything but fall asleep on the couch.

Therefore, looking at this useless bastard’s dead body didn’t particularly spark any feelings of sadness in Yeosang.  Instead he pulled Yunhee close as well, rubbing her shoulder.  She looked up at him to make sure he was okay and smiled when she saw not a single hint of regret or sorrow in his familiar brown eyes.  Then all three of the friends made their way out of the morgue and into the waiting arms of their real family.

-

Wooyoung whirled around and cursed, all of the hope he had had before draining in an instant.  Behind them both, Hongjoong slumped down into the chair, gasping as blood streamed down from a gaping wound in his neck.  Yeosang clutched the gun and struggled to his feet, his cheek throbbed from a bruise that was almost surely forming from Wooyoung’s hand.  He stared, unfeelingly, at the dying man in front of him while Wooyoung desperately tried to stop the bleeding, pressing his hands against the wound.  Wooyoung yelled and screamed but his words were left a mystery to both men: Yeosang who moved to them both slowly in a trance and Hongjoong whose eyes were wide open with shock, blood dribbling from his lips.  

Quicker than Wooyoung could even comprehend, the life completely drained from Hongjoong’s eyes and his limbs that had been tensed up with shock, fell limp against the chair.  

Wooyoung whirled around.

“Yeosang, what the fuck did you just do?!”

Then he looked in front of him in horror to see that the gun was now pointed at his own chest.  

“Yeosang, what-”

Another gunshot and this time it was Wooyoung on the floor, gulping air as he clutched at the red that quickly began to stain his coat.  Yeosang stood over him, staring silently, his eyes glazed over.

“Why…”  He uttered only this as he looked at his best friend.  Tears began to fall silently from his eyes as he looked back and forth between Hongjoong and Wooyoung. 

Suddenly Yeosang shuddered.  “Yunhee…I’m sorry…I’m sorry…”

He let the gun fall to the floor.  Yeosang looked at Wooyoung one last time.  “I’m sorry.”  Was all he said before he turned around and walked away.  As his footsteps receded, Wooyoung slid to the floor, letting himself rest on the freezing concrete floor.  He closed his eyes, the pain slowly becoming a distant memory, as he waited to die.  

#ateez #ateez fanfiction #ateez fanfic #ateez angst #ateez au #angst #ateez yeosang #yeosang au #yeosang fanfiction #yeosang angst #ateez wooyoung #ateez hongjoong

[art-of-manliness]

Odds and Ends: March 29, 2024

The Storm of Steel by Ernst Jünger. Maybe you’ve seen a movie and read a couple books about WWI. You think you know what it was like for the soldiers who fought in that war. Then you read The Storm of Steel and realize you truly didn’t grasp it at all. German officer Ernst Jünger’s book, which was drawn from his journal entries, drops you right into the trenches and offers the reader a visceral, unmatchable look into what it’s like to constantly face a gruesome death and kill other men. Jünger has sometimes been criticized for glorifying war, and while he does find glimmers of honor in the conflict (largely in the fidelity of his men) to a greater extent than many of his more cynical contemporaries, his detailed accounts of death and destruction leave no doubt as to war’s horrors and absurdities. Sometimes his reports of one attack and casualty after another become a little redundant, but overall, this is a compelling read that will leave you amazed as to just how unbelievable an experience WWI really was. Wool Dryer Balls. Do you know how fabric softener sheets work? Dryer sheets soften and remove static and wrinkles from clothes by depositing a chemical film on them. Not only might you not want these chems on your clothes, but the coating inhibits the absorbency and moisture-wicking properties of things like towels and synthetic workout shirts. Plus, they’re wasteful. We’ve swapped dryer sheets for wool dryer balls for several years now and are happy with the trade. They don’t soften and reduce wrinkles to the same extent as dryer sheets, but they get the job done and also reduce drying time. And you never have to buy fabric softener sheets again. The balls we link to are still going strong in our household three years after purchase and made in America; if you don’t care about their origin, you can buy them for much cheaper.  Fashion Nugget by Cake. I was a big Cake fan in high school and college. They’re one of the best rock shows I’ve seen. I don’t know why I stopped listening to them, but I re-discovered them again recently and have remembered why I enjoyed them so much. They just sound different from most rock bands. Their sound has a mix of rock, funk, and hip-hop, but also country music and mariachi. Their album Fashion Nugget is a good representation of their work. “Going the Distance” is still one of the all-time great pump-up songs for a race or game. That baseline is so dope.  Working With Your Hands Is Good for Your Brain. You’ve probably noticed that there’s something about doing things with your hands that’s uniquely satisfying. The reality of this feeling has been scientifically proven. Writing by hand has been shown to engage the brain significantly more than typing, and as this NYT article notes, research has shown that doing hands-on activities like painting and gardening result in “cognitive and emotional benefits, including improvements in memory and attention, as well as reductions in anxiety and depression symptoms.” In allowing you to witness the way that your actions can bring about a concrete result in the world, working with your hands may also combat the happiness-squashing state of learned helplessness. Of concern then, is what may happen to our mental states in a world where the need to work with our hands continues to contract. As one researcher observed, “Skills involving fine motor control of the hands are excellent training and superstimulation for the brain. The brain is like a muscle, and if we continue to take away these complex movements from our daily lives — especially fine motor movements — I think that muscle will weaken.” So exercise your brain this weekend by writing a real letter or tinkering in the garage.  Quote of the Week The great Easter truth is not that we are to live newly after death—that is not the great thing—but that we are to be new here and now by the power of the resurrection; not so much that we are to live forever as that we are to, and may, live nobly now because we are to live forever. —Phillips Brooks Help support… http://dlvr.it/T4pNQQ

[kingdoms-and-empires]

If I may ask, what are does our family/ROs look and dress like? I understand if this may need to be cut into 2 parts if answered at all, but for fanart purposes, it would be of immense help to know how these characters style themselves even if their physical traits might be up to interpretation like the Argents.

Lol, reason i didnt answer yet was because i didn't know how to answer it lololol

Honestly, its kinda hard to find what I'm looking for online, but ill try lol!

The Codex actually offers lots of information about fashion in the game:

Men of Argent wear simple yet effective clothing padded with fur. The material would differ one man to the next but cotton, wool, and leather were most common due to the cold. Trousers were made of the same materials. The garments were usually of a darker color, bright and fanciful colors usually reserved for men of great wealth or high class.

Women of Argent wear embroidered bodices or elaborate corsets atop their tunics that lift the bosom that are laced from the back. Their skirts are separated from the top. Both genders often use either sheepskin as cloaks, the higher class or wealthy using fur overcoats and shawls.

Papa Uriel usually likes to wear normal everyday clothing, but when he has to he wears fur longcoats (trench coats?) over his normal clothing because he values being able to move freely. He also doesn't like dressing his rank because he feels constricted in tight clothing that shows off his body, much to mama's chagrin/delight.

Aurelian actually loves dressing, so much so he sorta has a chunibyo complex. "MY WOLF BLOOD IS BOILING WITH EXCITEMENT! TREMBLE BEFORE ME AS-"

Julianna walking in:

---------------------

Safe to say Aurelian usually does whatever Julianna wants nowadays.

Ahem. Anyways he dresses flamboyantly to get attention and usually sports dark blue clothing with designs and patterns in the extremities. He sports a wolf head in the right side of his chest for his father, while adding to his chuni tendencies he wears a black cape with a raven drawing for his mother, honoring both. Pretty much like this:

Percy doesnt care about fashion. He doesnt care about what we think. He only cares about what Percy wants to learn. Incredibly curious lil homie has an almost greedy curiosity of the world, usually dragging Julianna with him to visit the castle blacksmith and Old Feren to use his laboratory. So he usually follows Uriel's example and wears clothing like doublets and trousers.

I really hope i answered to your satisfaction, though i doubt it.

@enspey even has some great art shes done for some characters and her direction with fashion in Argent is honestly what id like to point to if I sucked ass at explaining lol

Like this! Credit to my homie enspey

Is PERFECT, the Argent fur fashion to the right meeting the silk fashion of the imperial left! Mom and Julianna would be wearing clothing similar to the right and left, depending on the season.

#kingdomsandempires #fashion #questions #enspey

[addictedbespoke]

Men Custom Made Ivory Wool Long Coat Loose Fit Notch Lapel Belt Closure Overcoat

Our Men's Wool Long Coat is the perfect jacket for Autumn/Winter. This overcoat is perfect for completing any outfit and it’s loose fitting means it can also be used for layering.

Shop now: https://www.etsy.com/listing/1386380851/men-custom-made-ivory-wool-long-coat?ref=listing_published_alert

#mensfashion #menswear #mens style #trench coat #wool coat #men coat #longcoat #bespokefashion #bespoke #custommade #menclothing #addictedbespoke

[sportscloset]

Can you ID his coat? Please

Just a good ol’ Amazon coat paired with Cartiers.

It’s called ✨ballin on a budget✨

#joe burrow

[harrysformenswear]

Explore The Most Demanding Designer Shirts For Men In Australia

If you want to buy menswear that is of high quality and comes in different styles, Harry's for Menswear is the best clothing in Australia. We offer the best products and customer service in Australia. We have created a fabulous community of customers who have come to trust us over many years. Our goal is to provide you with quality menswear at affordable prices. We want that you can look great without breaking the bank. Our products are made only of the finest materials, and our customer service team will help you find what you need. To learn more about designer shirts for men, contact us now.

#men’s bets wellington #wool suit jacket #wedding suits for men near me #navy suits online #mens hats australia #mens belts warren #luxury mens business shirts #designer shirts for sale #designer cufflinks online #buy mens hats online #buy bow tie online #belt shop near me #shop trench coats #saville row suit near me #joe black suits online