Get Out.

[Oh For The Love of Cod]

My crap.
Take the colors, text, and symbols if you want; IDC. I didn't make them.
Don't touch what I make.

[Oh For The Love of Cod]

▩ ░ ⚄ ツ ♋ 웃 유 Σ ⊗ ♒ ☠ ☮ ☯ ♠ Ω ♤ ♣ ♧ ♥ ♡ ♦♢♔ ♕ ♚ ♛ ★ ☆ ✮ ✯ ☄ ☾ ☽ ☼ ☀ ☁ ☂ ☃ ☻ ☺ ۞ ۩ ♬ ✄ ✂ ✆ ✉ ✦ ✧ ∞ ♂ ♀ ☿ ❤ ❥ ❦ ❧ ™ ® © ✗ ✘ ⊗ ♒ ▢ ▲ △ ▼ ▽ ◆ ◇ ○ ◎ ● ◯ Δ ◕ ◔ ʊ ϟ ღ 回 ₪ ✓ ✔ ✕ ✖ ☢ ☣ ☤ ☥ ☦ ☧ ☨ ☩ ☪ ☫ ☬ ☭
卐™©® ¿¡½⅓⅔¼¾ ⅛⅜⅝⅞ ℅№⇨ ❝❞ ℃
∃∧∠ ∨∩⊂ ⊃∪⊥∀ ΞΓɐəɘεβ ɟɥɯɔи ๏ɹʁ яʌʍλ ч∞ΣΠ ⌥ ⌘
¢€£¥

➀➁➂ ➃➄➅ ➆➇➈ ➉
➊➋➌➍ ➎➏➐➑➒➓

ⒶⒷⒸⒹⒺⒻ ⒼⒽ ⒾⒿⓀ ⓁⓂⓃ ⓄⓅⓆ ⓇⓈⓉⓊⓋ ⓌⓍⓎⓏ
ⓐⓑⓒⓓⓔⓕⓖⓗ ⓘⓙⓚⓛⓜⓝ ⓞⓟⓠⓡⓢⓣ ⓤⓥⓦⓧⓨⓩ

㊀ ㊁ ㊂ ㊃ ㊄ ㊅ ㊆ ㊇㊈㊉㊊㊋ ㊌ ㊍ ㊎ ㊏㊐㊑ ㊒㊓㊔㊕ ㊖ ㊗ ㊘㊙㊚ ㊛㊜㊝㊞㊟ ㊠ ㊡ ㊢ ㊣ ㊤ ㊥ ㊦ ㊧ ㊨ ㊩ ㊪ ㊫ ㊬ ㊭ ㊮ ㊯ ㊰

℘ℑℜℵ♏η αβεℓℓα· ¨…¦┅┆┈
┊╱╲╳¯– —≡჻░▒▓ ▤▥▦▧▨▩█ ▌▐▀▄ ◠◡╭╮╯╰ │┤╡╢╖╕╣ ║╝╜╛ ┐ └┴┬├─┼
╞╟╚╔╩╦ ╠═ ╬╧╨╤ ╥╙╘╒╓ ╫╪┘┌
{｡^◕‿◕^｡} (◕^^◕) ✖✗✘♒♬✄ ✂✆✉✦✧♱ ♰♂♀☿❤❥ ❦❧
™®©♡♦ ♢♔♕♚♛★ ☆✮ ✯☄☾☽ ☼☀☁☂☃☻ ☺☹ ☮۞۩ εїз☎☏¢ ☚☛☜☝☞☟✍
✌☢☣☠☮☯ ♠♤♣♧♥ ♨๑❀✿ ψ♆☪☭♪ ♩♫℘ℑ ℜℵ♏ηα ʊϟღツ回 ₪卐™ ©®¿¡½⅓ ⅔¼¾⅛⅜⅝⅞℅
№⇨❝❞ ℃◠◡╭╮╯╰ ★☆⊙¤㊣ ★☆♀◆◇

▲◣◢ ◥▼△▽ ⊿◤◥ △ ▴ ▵ ▶ ▷ ▸ ▹ ► ▻ ▼ ▽ ▾ ▿ ◀ ◁ ◂ ◃ ◄ ◅
▆▇██■ ▓回□〓≡
╝╚╔╗╬ ═╓╩ ┠┨┯┷┏ ┓┗┛┳⊥ ﹃﹄┌ ┐└┘∟「 」↑↓→ ←↘↙♀ ♂┇┅﹉﹊ ﹍﹎╭╮╰╯ *^_^* ^*^ ^-^ ^_^ ^︵^∵∴‖ ︱︳︴﹏
﹋﹌♂♀ ♥♡☜☞☎ ☏⊙◎☺☻ ►◄▧▨ ♨◐◑↔↕ ▪▫☼♦▀ ▄█▌▐ ░▒▬♦◊
◦☼♠♣▣ ▤▥▦▩ ぃ◘◙◈♫ ♬♪♩♭♪ の☆→あ ￡❤｡◕‿
◕｡✎✟ஐ ≈๑۩ ۩.. ..۩۩๑ ๑۩۞۩๑ ✲❈➹ ~.~◕ ‿-｡☀☂☁ 【】┱┲❣ ✚✪✣ ✤✥
✦❉ ❥❦❧❃ ❂❁❀✄☪ ☣☢☠☭♈ ➸✓✔✕ ✖㊚㊛ *.:｡ ✿*ﾟ‘ﾟ･ ⊙¤㊣★☆
♀◆◇ ◣◢◥▲ ▼△▽⊿◤ ◥▆▇ ██■▓
回□〓≡╝ ╚╔╗ ╬═╓╩ ┠┨┯┷┏ ┓┗┛ ┳⊥﹃﹄ ┌┐└┘∟ 「」↑↓
→←↘↙ ♀♂┇┅﹉ ﹊﹍﹎ ╭╮╰╯ *^_^* ^*^ ^-^ ^_^ ^︵^∵ ∴‖ ︱︳ ︴﹏﹋﹌
♂♀♥♡☜ ☞☎☏⊙ ◎☺☻►◄ ▧▨♨◐◑ ↔↕ ▪▫ ☼♦▀▄█
▌▐░▒▬ ♦◊◦☼ ♠♣▣▤▥ ▦▩ぃ◘◙ ◈♫♬♪ ♩♭♪の☆ →あ￡❤｡ ◕‿◕｡ ✎✟ஐ≈ ๑۩۩.. ..۩
۩๑๑۩۞ ۩
๑✲❈ ➹ ~.~◕‿-｡ ☀☂☁【】 ┱┲❣✚ ✪✣✤✥ ✦❉❥❦ ❧❃❂❁❀ ✄☪☣☢☠ ☭♈➸✓
✔✕✖㊚ ㊛ *.:｡✿*ﾟ ‘ﾟ･ ◊♥╠═╝▫■๑»«¶ஐ©† εïз♪ღ♣ ♠•± °•ิ.•ஐஇ *×○▫
♂•♀◊©¤ ▲↔™®☎ε їз♨ ☏☆★ ▽△▲ ∵∴∷ ＃♂♀♥♠♣
♧♤♧ ♡♬♪ ♭♫♪ﻬஐღ ↔↕↘••● ¤╬﹌▽☜♥☞ ♬✞♥♕☯☭☠☃ ─ ━
│ ┃ ┄ ┅ ┆ ┇ ┈ ┉ ┊ ┋

♚ ♛ ♜ ♝ ♞ ♟
♔ ♕ ♖ ♗ ♘ ♙
☚ ☛ ☜ ☝ ☞ ☟
☩ ☨ ☦ ✙ ✚ ✛ ✜ ✝ ✞ ✠
✦ ★ ☆ ✰ ✮ ✯ ❇ ❈ ❅ ❄ ❆ ╰☆╮
❃ ❀ ✿ ❁ ✾
♪ ♫ ♩ ♬ ♭ ♮ ♯
☼ ☀ ☁ ☂ ☃ ☄ ☾ ☽ ❄

☯ ✡ ☨ ✞ ✝ ☮ ☥ ☦ ☧ ☩ ☪ ☫ ☬ ☭ ✌ 卐
♋ ♂ ♀ ☿ ❤ ❥ 웃 유 ♡
✉ ✍ ✎ ✏ ✐✑✒ ⌨

☌
≂ ≃ ≄ ≅ ≆ ≇ ≈ ≉ ≊ ≋ ≌ ≍ ≎ ≏ ≐ ≑ ≒ ≓ ≔ ≕ ≖ ≗ ≘ ≙ ≚ ≛ ≜ ≝ ≞ ≟ ≠ ≡ ≢ ≣ ≤ ≥ ≦ ≧ ≨ ≩
☹ ☺ ☻
␛ ␡ ␚
␟ ␘ ␠ ␤ ␋ ␌ ␍ ␎ ␏ ␐ ␑ ␒ ␓ ␔ ␕ ␖ ␗ ␙ ␜ ␝ ␞
┌ ┍ ┎ ┏ ┐ ┑ ┒ ┓ └ ┕ ┖ ┗ ┘ ┙ ┚ ┛ ├ ┝ ┞ ┟ ┠ ┡ ┢ ┣ ┤ ┥ ┦ ┧ ┨ ┩ ┪ ┫ ┬ ┭ ┮ ┯ ┰ ┱ ┲ ┳ ┴ ┵ ┶ ┷ ┸ ┹ ┺ ┻ ┼ ┽ ┾ ┿ ╀ ╁ ╂ ╃ ╄ ╅ ╆ ╇ ╈ ╉ ╊ ╋ ╌ ╍ ╎ ╏ ═ ║ ╒ ╓ ╔ ╕ ╖ ╗ ╘ ╙ ╚ ╛ ╜ ╝ ╞ ╟ ╠ ╡ ╢ ╣ ╤ ╥ ╦ ╧ ╨ ╩ ╪ ╫ ╬
♈ ♉ ♊ ♋ ♌ ♍ ♎ ♏ ♐ ♑ ♒ ♓

▀ ▁ ▂ ▃ ▄ ▅ ▆ ▇ █ ▉ ▊ ▋ ▌ ▍ ▎ ▏ ▐ ░ ▒ ▓ ▔ ▕ ▖ ▗ ▘ ▙ ▚ ▛ ▜ ▝ ▞
▟ ■ □ ▢ ▣ ▤ ▥ ▦ ▧ ▨ ▩ ▪ ▫ ▬ ▭ ▮ ▯
╭
╮ ╯ ╰ ╱ ╲ ╳ ╴ ╵ ╶ ╷ ╸ ╹ ╺ ╻ ╼ ╽ ╾ ╿ ▰ ▱ ◆ ◇ ◈ ◉ ◊ ○ ◌ ◍ ◎ ● ◐ ◑ ◒ ◓ ◔ ◕ ◖ ◗ ◘ ◙ ◚ ◛ ◜ ◝ ◞ ◟ ◠ ◡ ◢ ◣
◤ ◥ ◦ ◧ ◨ ◩ ◪ ◫ ◬ ◭ ◮ ◯ ◰ ◱ ◲ ◳ ◴ ◵ ◶ ◷ ◸ ◹ ◺ ◻ ◼ ◽ ◾ ◿ ☀ ☁ ☂ ☃ ☄ ★ ☆ ☇ ☈ ☉ ☊ ☋ ☌ ☍ ☎ ☏ ☐ ☑ ☒ ☓ ☔ ☕ ☖ ☗ ☘ ☙
☟ ☠ ☡ ☢ ☣ ☤ ☥ ☦ ☧ ☨ ☩ ☪ ☫ ☬ ☭ ☮ ☯ ☰ ☱ ☲ ☳ ☴ ☵ ☶ ☷ ☸ ☹ ☺ ☻ ☼ ☽ ☾ ☿ ♀ ♁ ♂ ♃ ♄ ♅ ♆ ♇ ♔ ♕ ♖ ♗ ♘ ♙ ♚ ♛ ♜ ♝ ♞ ♟ ♠ ♡ ♢ ♣
♤ ♥ ♦ ♧ ♨ ♩ ♪ ♫ ♬ ♭ ♮ ♯ ♰ ♱ ´ ῾                       ​ ‌ ‍ ‎ ‏ ‐ ‑ ‒ – — ― ‖ ‗ ‘ ’ ‚ ‛ “ ” „ ‟ † ‡ • ‣
․ ‥ … ‧ 
 
   ‰ ‱ ′ ″ ‴ ‵ ‶ ‷ ‸ ‹ › ※ ‼ ‽ ‾ ‿ ⁀ ⁁ ⁂ ⁃ ⁄ ⁅ ⁆ ⁊ ⁋ ⁌ ⁍ ⁎ ⁏ ⁐ ⁑ ⁒ ⁓ ⁔
⁕ ⁖ ⁗ ⁘ ⁙ ⁚ ⁛ ⁜ ⁝ ⁞   ⁠ ⁡ ⁢ ⁣ ⁤ ⁥ ⁦ ⁧ ⁨ ⁩      

₠ ₡ ₢ ₣ ₤ ₥ ₦ ₧ ₨ ₩ ₪ ₫ € ₭ ₮ ₯ ℀ ℁ ℂ ℃ ℄ ℅ ℆ ℇ ℈ ℉ ℊ ℋ ℌ ℍ ℎ ℏ ℐ ℑ ℒ ℓ ℔ ℕ
№ ℗ ℘ ℙ ℚ ℛ ℜ ℝ ℞ ℟ ℠ ℡ ™ ℣ ℤ ℥ Ω ℧ ℨ ℩ K Å ℬ ℭ ℮ ℯ ℰ ℱ Ⅎ ℳ ℴ ℵ ℶ ℷ ℸ ℹ ℺ ℻
ℽ ℾ ℿ ⅀ ⅁ ⅂ ⅃ ⅄ ⅅ ⅆ ⅇ ⅈ ⅉ ⅊ ⅋ ⅍ ⅎ

⅓ ⅔ ⅕ ⅖ ⅗ ⅘ ⅙ ⅚ ⅛ ⅜ ⅝ ⅞ ⅟
⁰ ⁱ ⁴ ⁵ ⁶ ⁷ ⁸ ⁹ ⁺ ⁻ ⁼ ⁽ ⁾ ⁿ ₀ ₁ ₂ ₃ ₄ ₅ ₆ ₇ ₈ ₉ ₊ ₋ ₌ ₍ ₎
ₐ ₑ ₒ ₓ ₔ
Ⅰ Ⅱ Ⅲ Ⅳ Ⅴ Ⅵ Ⅶ Ⅷ Ⅸ Ⅹ Ⅺ Ⅻ Ⅼ Ⅽ Ⅾ Ⅿ ⅰ ⅱ ⅲ ⅳ ⅴ ⅵ ⅶ ⅷ
ⅸ ⅹ ⅺ ⅻ ⅼ ⅽ ⅾ ⅿ

← ↑ → ↓ ↔ ↕ ↖ ↗ ↘ ↙ ↚ ↛ ↜ ↝ ↞ ↟ ↠ ↡ ↢ ↣ ↤ ↥ ↦ ↧ ↨
↩ ↪ ↫ ↬ ↭ ↮ ↯ ↰ ↱ ↲ ↳ ↴ ↵ ↶ ↷ ↸ ↹ ↺ ↻ ↼ ↽ ↾ ↿ ⇀ ⇁ ⇂ ⇃ ⇄ ⇅ ⇆ ⇇ ⇈ ⇉ ⇊ ⇋ ⇌ ⇍ ⇎ ⇏ ⇐ ⇑ ⇒ ⇓ ⇔ ⇕ ⇖ ⇗ ⇘ ⇙ ⇚ ⇛ ⇜ ⇝ ⇞ ⇟ ⇠ ⇡ ⇢ ⇣
⇤ ⇥ ⇦ ⇧ ⇨ ⇩ ⇪
⇫ ⇬ ⇭ ⇮ ⇯ ⇰ ⇱ ⇲ ⇳ ⇴ ⇵ ⇶ ⇷ ⇸ ⇹ ⇺ ⇻ ⇼ ⇽ ⇾ ⇿ ∀ ∁ ∂ ∃ ∄ ∅ ∆ ∇ ∈ ∉ ∊ ∋ ∌ ∍ ∎ ∏ ∐ ∑ − ∓ ∔
∕ ∖ ∗ ∘ ∙ √ ∛ ∜ ∝ ∞ ∟ ∠ ∡ ∢ ∣ ∤ ∥ ∦ ∧ ∨ ∩ ∪ ∫ ∬ ∭ ∮ ∯ ∰ ∱ ∲ ∳ ∴ ∵ ∶ ∷ ∸ ∹ ∺ ∻ ∼ ∽ ∾ ∿ ≀ ≁ ≪ ≫ ≬ ≭ ≮ ≯ ≰ ≱ ≲ ≳ ≴ ≵ ≶ ≷ ≸ ≹ ≺ ≻ ≼ ≽ ≾ ≿ ⊀
⊁ ⊂ ⊃ ⊄ ⊅ ⊆ ⊇ ⊈ ⊉ ⊊ ⊋ ⊌ ⊍ ⊎ ⊏ ⊐ ⊑ ⊒ ⊓ ⊔ ⊕ ⊖ ⊗ ⊘ ⊙ ⊚ ⊛ ⊜ ⊝ ⊞ ⊟ ⊠ ⊡ ⊢ ⊣ ⊤ ⊥ ⊦ ⊧ ⊨ ⊩ ⊪ ⊫ ⊬ ⊭ ⊮ ⊯ ⊰ ⊱ ⊲ ⊳ ⊴ ⊵ ⊶ ⊷ ⊸ ⊹ ⊺ ⊻
⊼ ⊽ ⊾ ⊿ ⋀ ⋁ ⋂ ⋃ ⋄ ⋅ ⋆ ⋇ ⋈ ⋉ ⋊ ⋋ ⋌ ⋍ ⋎ ⋏ ⋐ ⋑ ⋒ ⋓ ⋔ ⋕ ⋖ ⋗ ⋘ ⋙ ⋚ ⋛ ⋜ ⋝ ⋞ ⋟ ⋠ ⋡ ⋢ ⋣ ⋤ ⋥ ⋦ ⋧ ⋨ ⋩ ⋪ ⋫ ⋬
⋭ ⋮ ⋯ ⋰ ⋱ ⋲ ⋳ ⋴ ⋵ ⋶ ⋷ ⋸ ⋹ ⋺ ⋻ ⋼ ⋽ ⋾ ⋿ ⌀ ⌁ ⌂ ⌃ ⌄ ⌅ ⌆ ⌇ ⌈ ⌉ ⌊ ⌋ ⌌ ⌍ ⌎ ⌏ ⌐ ⌑ ⌒ ⌓ ⌔ ⌕ ⌖ ⌗ ⌘ ⌙ ⌚ ⌛ ⌜
⌝ ⌞ ⌟ ⌠ ⌡ ⌢ ⌣ ⌤ ⌥ ⌦ ⌧ ⌨ 〈 〉 ⌫ ⌬ ⌭ ⌮ ⌯ ⌰ ⌱ ⌲ ⌳ ⌴ ⌵ ⌶ ⌷ ⌸ ⌹ ⌺ ⌻ ⌼ ⌽ ⌾ ⌿ ⍀ ⍁ ⍂ ⍃ ⍄ ⍅ ⍆ ⍇ ⍈ ⍉ ⍊ ⍋ ⍌ ⍍ ⍎ ⍏ ⍐ ⍑ ⍒ ⍓ ⍔ ⍕ ⍖ ⍗

⍘ ⍙ ⍚ ␋ ␢ ␣ ─ ━ │ ┃ ┄ ┅ ┆ ┇ ┈ ┉ ┊ ┋ ┌ ┍ ┎ ┏ ┐ ┑ ┒ ┓
└ ┕ ┖ ┗ ┘ ┙ ┚ ┛ ├ ┝ ┞ ┟ ┠ ┡ ┢ ┣ ┤ ┥ ┦ ┧ ┨ ┩ ┪ ┫ ┬ ┭ ┮ ┯ ┰ ┱ ┲ ┳ ┴ ┵ ┶ ┷ ┸ ┹ ┺ ┻ ┼ ┽ ┾ ┿ ╀ ╁ ╂ ╃ ╄
╅ ╆ ╇ ╈ ╉ ╊ ╋ ╌ ╍ ╎ ╏ ═ ║ ╒ ╓ ╔ ╕ ╖ ╗ ╘ ╙ ╚ ╛ ╜ ╝ ╞ ╟ ╠ ╡ ╢ ╣ ╤ ╥ ╦ ╧ ╨ ╩ ╪ ╫

╬ ╭ ╮ ╯ ╰ ╱ ╲ ╳ ╴ ╵ ╶ ╷ ╸ ╹ ╺ ╻ ╼ ╽ ╾ ╿ ▀ ▁ ▂ ▃ ▄ ▅ ▆ ▇ █ ▉ ▊ ▋ ▌ ▍ ▎ ▏ ▐ ░ ▒ ▓ ▔ ▕ ▖ ▗ ▘ ▙ ▚ ▛ ▜ ▝ ▞ ▟ ■ □ ▢ ▣ ▤ ▥ ▦
▧ ▨ ▩ ▪ ▫ ▬ ▭ ▮ ▯ ▰ ▱ ◆ ◇ ◈ ◉ ◊ ○ ◌ ◍ ◎ ● ◐ ◑ ◒ ◓ ◔ ◕ ◖ ◗
◘ ◙ ◚ ◛ ◜ ◝ ◞ ◟ ◠ ◡ ◢ ◣ ◤ ◥ ◦ ◧ ◨ ◩ ◪ ◫ ◬ ◭ ◮ ◯ ◰ ◱ ◲ ◳ ◴ ◵ ◶ ◷ ◸ ◹ ◺ ◻ ◼ ◽ ◾ ◿ ☀ ☁ ☂ ☃ ☄ ★ ☆ ☇ ☈
☉ ☊ ☋ ☌ ☍ ☎ ☏ ☐ ☑ ☒ ☓ ☔ ☕ ☖ ☗ ☘ ☙ ☟ ☠ ☡ ☢ ☣ ☤ ☥ ☦ ☧ ☨ ☩ ☪ ☫ ☬ ☭ ☮ ☯ ☰ ☱ ☲ ☳ ☴ ☵ ☶ ☷ ☸ ☹ ☺ ☻ ☼ ☽ ☾ ☿ ♀ ♁ ♂ ♃ ♄ ♅ ♆ ♇ ♈ ♉ ♊ ♋ ♌ ♍
♎ ♏ ♐ ♑ ♒ ♓ ♔ ♕ ♖ ♗ ♘ ♙ ♚ ♛ ♜ ♝ ♞ ♟ ♠ ♡ ♢ ♣ ♤ ♥ ♦ ♧ ♨ ♩ ♪ ♫ ♬ ♭ ♮ ♯ ♰ ♱

頹 – 衙 – 浳 – 浤 – 搰 – 煤 – 洳 – 橱 – 橱 – 煪 – ㍱ – 煱 – 둻 – 睤 – ㌹ – 楤 – ぱ – - 椹 – ぱ – 畱 – 煵 – 田 – つ – 煵 – 엌 – 嫠 – 쯦 – 案 – 迎 – 是 – 從 – 事 – 網 – 頁 – 設 – 計 – 簡 – 大

✄ ✂

✆ ☎ ☏
™ © ®
❝❞
❃ ❂ ○ ◎ ● ◯ ◕ ◔ ◐ ◑ ☢ ⊗ ⊙ ◘ ◙ ▤▥▦▧▨▩ ♤ ♧ ♡ ￡

⁇ ⁈ ⁉ ‼ ‽
☁ ☺ ☹ ✊ ✋ ☝ ✌ ⚡ ✨ ⭕ ❌ ⭐ ❕ ❔ ❗ ❓ ❄ ☀ ⛅ ☔ ⛄ ☎ ➿ ✂ ⚽ ⚾ ⛳ ♠ ♥ ♣ ♦ ☕ ♤ ♡ ♢ ♧ ⏰ ⏳ ⌛ ⌚ ♨ ✏ ✒ ✉ ⚓ ⛪ ⛺ ⛲ ⛵ ✈ ⛽ ⚠ ⛔  ⬆ ⬇ ⬅ ➡ ↗ ↖ ↘ ↙ ◀ ▶ ⏪ ⏩ ♿ ㊙ ㊗ ✳ ✴ ♈ ♉ ♊ ♋ ♌ ♍ ♎ ♏ ♐ ♑ ♒ ♓ ⛎ ⭕ ❌ © ® ™ ⏫ ⏬ ↕ ↔ ↩ ↪ ⤴ ⤵ ℹ ❎ Ⓜ ⚫ ⚪ ◼ ◻ ▪ ▫ ✖ ➕ ➖ ➗ ➰ 〰 ♻ ☢ ☣ ☠ ☤ ⚕ ⚚ † ☯ ⚖ ☮ ⚘ ⚔ ☭ ⚒ ⚛ ⚜ ☥ ✠ ✙ ✞ ✟ ✧ ⋆ ★ ☆ ✪ ✫ ✬ ✭ ✮ ✯ ✰ ✡ ☫ ☬ ☸ ✵ ❂ ⚘ ❀ ❃ ❁ ✼ ♫ ♪ ☃ ❅ ❆ ☂ ❦ ♕ ♛ ♔ ♖ ♜ ☾ → ⇒ ⟹ ⇨ ⇰ ➩ ➪ ➫ ➬ ➭ ➮ ➯ ➲ ➳ ➵ ➸ ➻ ➺ ➼ ➽ ☜ ☟ ➹ ➷ ↶ ↷ ✆ ⌘ ⎋ ⏎ ⏏ ⎈ ⎌ ⍟ ❥ ツ ღ ☻
🔯 🏧 💹 💲 💱 © ® ™ ❌ ‼ ⁉ ❗ ❓ ❕ ❔ ⭕ 🔝 🔚 🔙 🔛 🔜 🔃 🕛 🕐 🕑 🕒 🕓 🕔 🕕 🕖 🕗 🕘 🕙 🕚 ✖ ➕ ➖ ➗ ♠ ♥ ♣ ♦ 💮 💯 ✔ ☑ 🔘 🔗 ➰ 〰 〽 🔱 ◼ ◻ ◾ ◽ ▪ ▫ 🔺 🔲 🔳 ⚫ ⚪ 🔴 🔵 🔻 ⬜ ⬛ 🔶 🔷 🔸 🔹

♈ ♉ ♊ ♋ ♌ ♍ ♎ ♏ ♐ ♑ ♒ ♓ ⛎

🆗 🆕 🆙 🆒 🆓 🆖 📶 🎦 🈁 🈯 🈳 🈵 🈴 🈲 🉐 🈹 🈺 🈶 🈚 🚻 🚹 🚺 🚼 🚾 🅿 ♿ 🚭 🈷 🈸 🈂 Ⓜ 🉑 ㊙ ㊗ 🆑 🆘 🆔 🚫 🔞 ⛔ ✳ ❇ ❎ ✅ ✴ 💟 🆚 📳 📴 🅰 🅱 🆎 🅾 💠 ➿ ♻ 1⃣ 2⃣ 3⃣ 4⃣ 5⃣ 6⃣ 7⃣ 8⃣ 9⃣ 0⃣ 🔟 🔢 #⃣ 🔣 ⬆ ⬇ ⬅ ➡ 🔠 🔡 🔤 ↗ ↖ ↘ ↙ ↔ ↕ ◀ ▶ 🔼 🔽 ↩ ↪ ℹ ⏪ ⏩ ⏫ ⏬ ⤵ ⤴

⛵ 🚤 ⚓ 🚀 ✈ 💺 🚉 🚄 🚅 🚇 🚃 🚌 🚙 🚗 🚕 🚚 🚨 🚓 🚒 🚑 🚲 💈 🚏 🎫 🚥 ⚠ 🚧 🔰 ⛽ 🏮 🎰 ♨ 🗿 🎪 🎭 📍 🚩

🏠 🏡 🏫 🏢 🏣 🏥 🏦 🏪 🏩 🏨 💒 ⛪ 🏬 🌇 🌆 🏯 🏰 ⛺ 🏭 🗼 🗾 🗻 🌄 🌅 🌃 🗽 🌉 🎠 🎡 ⛲ 🎢 🚢

🍎 🍏 🍊 🍒 🍇 🍉 🍓 🍑 🍈 🍌 🍍 🍠 🍆 🍅 🌽 ☕ 🍵 🍶 🍺 🍻 🍸 🍹 🍷 🍴 🍕 🍔 🍟 🍗 🍖 🍝 🍛 🍤

🍱 🍣 🍥 🍙 🍘 🍚 🍜 🍲 🍢 🍡 🍳 🍞 🍩 🍮 🍦 🍨 🍧 🎂 🍰 🍪 🍫 🍬 🍭 🍯 👾 🎮 🃏 🎴 🀄 🎲 🎯 🏈 🏀

⚽ ⚾ 🎾 🎱 🎳 ⛳ 🏁 🏆 🎿 🏂 🏊 🏄 🎣 🎨 🎬 🎤 🎧 🎼 🎵 🎶 🎹 🎻 🎺 🎷 🎸 📧 📥 📤 ✉ 📩 📨 📫

📪 📮 📦 📝 📄 📃 📑 📊 📈 📉 📜 📋 📅 📆 📇 📁 📂 ✂ 📌 📎 ✒ ✏ 📏 📐 📕 📗 📘 📙 📓 📔 📒 📚

📖 🔖 📛 📰 🎍 💝 🎎 🎒 🎓 🎏 🎆 🎇 🎐 🎑 🎃 👻 🎅 🎄 🎁 🎋 🎉 🎊 🎈 🎌 🔮 🎥 📷 📹 📼 💿 📀 💽

💾 💻 📱 ☎ 📞 📟 📠 📡 📺 📻 🔊 🔔 📢 📣 ⏳ ⌛ ⏰ ⌚ 🔓 🔒 🔏 🔐 🔑 🔎 💡 🔦 🔌 🔋 🔍 🛀 🚽 🔧

🔩 🔨 🚪 🚬 💣 🔫 🔪 💊 💉 💰 💴 💵 💳 💸 📲 🌑 🌓 🌔 🌕 🌛 🌙 🌏 🌋 🌌 🌠 ⭐ ☀ ⛅ ☁ ⚡ ☔ ❄ ⛄

🌀 🌁 🌈 🌊 💐 🌸 🌷 🍀 🌹 🌻 🌺 🍁 🍃 🍂 🌿 🌾 🍄 🌵 🌴 🌰 🌱 🌼 🐶 🐺 🐱 🐭 🐹 🐰 🐸 🐯 🐨 🐻

🐷 🐽 🐮 🐗 🐵 🐒 🐴 🐑 🐘 🐼 🐧 🐦 🐤 🐥 🐣 🐔 🐍 🐢 🐛 🐝 🐜 🐞 🐌 🐙 🐚 🐠 🐟 🐬 🐳 🐎 🐲 🐡

🐫 🐩 🐾 💛 💙 💜 💚 ❤ 💔 💗 💓 💕 💖 💞 💘 💌 💋 💍 💎 👤 💬 👣 🎩 👑 👒 👟 👞 👡 👠 👢 👕 👔

👚 👗 🎽 👖 👘 👙 💼 👜 👝 👛 👓 🎀 🌂 💄 🔥 ✨ 🌟 💫 💥 💢 💦 💧 💤 💨 👂 👀 👃 👅 👄 👍 👎 👌

👊 ✊ ✌ 👋 ✋ 👐 👆 👇 👉 👈 🙌 🙏 ☝ 👏 💪 🚶 🏃 💃 👫 👪 💏 💑 👯 🙆 🙅 💁 🙋 💆 💇 💅 👰 🙎 🙍

🙇 👹 👺 🙈 🙉 🙊 💀 👽 💩 😺 😸 😻 😽 😼 🙀 😿 😹 😾 😄 😃 😊 ☺ 😉 😍 😘 😚 😜 😝 😳 😁 😔 😌

😒 😞 😣 😢 😂 😭 😪 😥 😰 😅 😓 😩 😫 😨 😱 😠 😡 😤 😖 😆 😋 😷 😎 😵 😲 😈 👿 😐 😶 😇 😏

👲 👳 👮 👷 💂 👶 👦 👧 👨 👩 👴 👵 👱 👼 👸
ª ↀ ↁ ↂ Ↄ ↄ

[Oh For The Love of Cod]

α в c ∂ ε ƒ g н ι j к ℓ м и η σ ρ q я s т υ v ω x у z

ＡＢＣＤＥＦＧＨＩＪＫＬＭＮＯＰＱＲＳＴＵＶＷＸＹＺ

ａｂｃｄｅｆｇｈｉｊｋｌｍｎｏｐｑｒｓｔｕｖｗｘｙｚ

z ʎ x ʍ ʌ n ʇ s ɹ b d o u ɯ ן ʞ ظ ı ɥ b ɟ ǝ p ɔ q ɐ

α в c ם/∂/δ є ғ ɢ н ι נ к ℓ м и σ ρ q я s т υ v ω x ץ/ч z

⒜ ⒝ ⒞ ⒟ ⒠ ⒡ ⒢ ⒣ ⒤ ⒥ ⒦ ⒧ ⒨ ⒩ ⒪ ⒫ ⒬ ⒭ ⒮ ⒯ ⒰ ⒱ ⒲ ⒳ ⒴ ⒵

Ⓐ Ⓑ Ⓒ Ⓓ Ⓔ Ⓕ Ⓖ Ⓗ Ⓘ Ⓙ Ⓚ Ⓛ Ⓜ Ⓝ Ⓞ Ⓟ Ⓠ Ⓡ Ⓢ Ⓣ Ⓤ Ⓥ Ⓦ Ⓧ Ⓨ Ⓩ

ⓐ ⓑ ⓒ ⓓ ⓔ ⓕ ⓖ ⓗ ⓘ ⓙ ⓚ ⓛ ⓜ ⓝ ⓞ ⓟ ⓠ ⓡ ⓢ ⓣ ⓤ ⓥ ⓦ ⓧ ⓨ ⓩ

[Oh For The Love of Cod]

Colors
#150517 |◆| Gray0
#250517 |◆| Gray18
#2B1B17 |◆| Gray21
#302217 |◆| Gray23
#342826 |◆| Gray25
#34282C |◆| Gray26
#382D2C |◆| Gray27
#3b3131 |◆| Gray28
#3E3535 |◆ | Gray29
#413839 |◆ | Gray30
#41383C |◆ | Gray31
#463E3F |◆ | Gray32
#4A4344 |◆ |Gray34
#4C4646 |◆ | Gray35
#4E4848 |◆ | Gray36
#504A4B |◆ | Gray37
#544E4F |◆ | Gray38
#565051 |◆ | Gray39
#595454 |◆ | Gray40
#5C5858 |◆ | Gray41
#5F5A59 |◆ | Gray42
#625D5D |◆ | Gray43
#646060 |◆| Gray44
#666362 |◆| Gray45
#696565 |◆| Gray46
#6D6968 |◆| Gray47
#6E6A6B |◆| Gray48
#726E6D |◆| Gray49
#747170 |◆| Gray50
#736F6E |◆| Gray

#616D7E |◆| Slate Gray4
#657383 |◆| Slate Gray
#646D7E |◆| Light Steel Blue4
#6D7B8D |◆| Light Slate Gray
#4C787E |◆| Cadet Blue4
#4C7D7E |◆| Dark Slate Gray4
#806D7E |◆| Thistle4
#5E5A80 |◆| Medium Slate Blue

#4E387E |◆| Medium Purple4
#151B54 |◆| Midnight Blue
#2B3856 |◆| Dark Slate Blue
#25383C |◆| Dark Slate Gray
#463E41 |◆| Dim Gray

#151B8D |◆| Cornflower Blue
#15317E |◆| Royal Blue4
#342D7E |◆| Slate Blue4
#2B60DE |◆| Royal Blue
#306EFF |◆| Royal Blue1
#2B65EC |◆| Royal Blue2
#2554C7 |◆| Royal Blue3
#3BB9FF |◆| Deep Sky Blue
#38ACEC |◆| Deep Sky Blue2
#357EC7 |◆| Slate Blue
#3090C7 |◆| Deep Sky Blue3
#25587E |◆| Deep Sky Blue4
#1589FF |◆| Dodger Blue
#157DEC |◆| Dodger Blue2
#1569C7 |◆| Dodger Blue3
#153E7E |◆| Dodger Blue4
#2B547E |◆| Steel Blue4
#4863A0 |◆| Steel Blue
#6960EC |◆| Slate Blue2
#8D38C9 |◆| Violet
#7A5DC7 |◆| Medium Purple3
#8467D7 |◆| Medium Purple
#9172EC |◆| Medium Purple2
#9E7BFF |◆| Medium Purple1
#728FCE |◆| Light Steel Blue
#488AC7 |◆| Steel Blue3
#56A5EC |◆| Steel Blue2
#5CB3FF |◆| Steel Blue1
#659EC7 |◆| Sky Blue3
#41627E |◆| Sky Blue4
#737CA1 |◆| Slate Blue
#737CA1 |◆| Slate Blue
#98AFC7 |◆| Slate Gray3

#F6358A |◆| Violet Red
#F6358A |◆| Violet Red1
#E4317F |◆| Violet Red2
#F52887 |◆| Deep Pink
#E4287C |◆| Deep Pink2
#C12267 |◆| Deep Pink3
#7D053F |◆| Deep Pink4
#CA226B ◆ Medium Violet Red
#C12869 ◆ Violet Red3
#800517 ◆ Firebrick
#7D0541 ◆ Violet Red4
#7D0552 ◆ Maroon4
#810541 ◆ Maroon
#C12283 ◆ Maroon3
#E3319D ◆ Maroon2
#F535AA ◆ Maroon1
#FF00FF ◆ Magenta
#F433FF ◆ Magenta1
#E238EC ◆ Magenta2
#C031C7 ◆ Magenta3

#B048B5 ◆ Medium Orchid
#D462FF ◆ Medium Orchid1
#C45AEC ◆ Medium Orchid2
#A74AC7 ◆ Medium Orchid3
#6A287E ◆ Medium Orchid4
#8E35EF |◆| Purple
#893BFF ◆ Purple1
#7F38EC ◆ Purple2
#6C2DC7 ◆ Purple3
#461B7E ◆ Purple4
#571B7e ◆ Dark Orchid4
#7D1B7E ◆ Dark Orchid
#842DCE ◆ Dark Violet
#8B31C7 ◆ Dark Orchid3
#A23BEC ◆ Dark Orchid2
#B041FF ◆ Dark Orchid1
#7E587E ◆ Plum4
#D16587 ◆ Pale Violet Red
#F778A1 ◆ Pale Violet Red1
#E56E94 ◆ Pale Violet Red2
#C25A7C ◆ Pale Violet Red3
#7E354D ◆ Pale Violet Red4
#B93B8F ◆ Plum
#F9B7FF ◆ Plum1
#E6A9EC ◆ Plum2
#C38EC7 ◆ Plum3
#D2B9D3 ◆ Thistle
#C6AEC7 ◆ Thistle4
#EBDDE2 ◆ Lavender Blush2
#C8BBBE ◆ Lavender Blush3
#E9CFEC ◆ Thistle2
#FCDFFF ◆ Thistle1

#E3E4FA ◆ Lavender
#FDEEF4 ◆ Lavender Blush
#C6DEFF ◆ Light Steel Blue1
#ADDFFF ◆ Light Blue
#BDEDFF ◆ Light Blue1
#E0FFFF ◆ Light Cyan
#C2DFFF ◆ Slate Gray1
#B4CFEC ◆ Slate Gray2
#B7CEEC ◆ Light Steel Blue2
#52F3FF ◆ Turquoise1
#00FFFF ◆ Cyan
#57FEFF ◆ Cyan1
#50EBEC ◆ Cyan2
#4EE2EC ◆ Turquoise2
#48CCCD ◆ Medium Turquoise
#43C6DB ◆ Turquoise
#9AFEFF ◆ Dark Slate Gray1
#8EEBEC ◆ Dark Slate Gray2
#78c7c7 ◆ Dark Slate Gray3
#46C7C7 ◆ Cyan3
#43BFC7 ◆ Turquoise3
#77BFC7 ◆ Cadet Blue3
#92C7C7 ◆ Pale Turquoise3
#AFDCEC ◆ Light Blue2
#3B9C9C ◆ Dark Turquoise
#307D7E ◆ Cyan4
#3EA99F ◆ Light Sea Green
#82CAFA ◆ Light Sky Blue
#A0CFEC ◆ Light Sky Blue2
#87AFC7 ◆ Light Sky Blue3
#82CAFF ◆ Sky Blue
#79BAEC ◆ Sky Blue2
#566D7E ◆ Light Sky Blue4
#6698FF ◆ Sky Blue4
#736AFF ◆ Light Slate Blue
#CFECEC ◆ Light Cyan2
#AFC7C7 ◆ Light Cyan3
#717D7D ◆ Light Cyan4
#95B9C7 ◆ Light Blue3
#5E767E ◆ Light Blue4
#5E7D7E ◆ Pale Turquoise4

#617C58 ◆ Dark Sea Green4
#348781 ◆ Medium Aquamarine
#306754 ◆ Medium Sea Green
#4E8975 ◆ Sea Green
#254117 ◆ Dark Green
#387C44 ◆ Sea Green4
#4E9258 ◆ Forest Green
#347235 ◆ Medium Forest Green
#347C2C ◆ Spring Green4
#667C26 ◆ Dark Olive Green4
#437C17 ◆ Chartreuse4
#347C17 ◆ Green4
#348017 ◆ Medium Spring Green
#4AA02C ◆ Spring Green
#41A317 ◆ Lime Green
#4AA02C ◆ Spring Green
#8BB381 ◆ Dark Sea Green
#99C68E ◆ Dark Sea Green2
#4CC417 ◆ Green3
#6CC417 ◆ Chartreuse3
#52D017 ◆ Yellow Green
#4CC552 ◆ Spring Green3
#54C571 ◆ Sea Green3
#57E964 ◆ Spring Green2
#5EFB6E ◆ Spring Green1
#64E986 ◆ Sea Green2
#6AFB92 ◆ Sea Green1
#B5EAAA ◆ Dark Sea Green2
#C3FDB8 ◆ Dark Sea Green1
#00FF00 ◆ Lime
#87F717 ◆ Lawn Green
#5FFB17 ◆ Green1
#59E817 ◆ Green2
#7FE817 ◆ Chartreuse2
#8AFB17 ◆ Chartreuse
#B1FB17 ◆ Green Yellow
#CCFB5D ◆ Dark Olive Green1
#BCE954 ◆ Dark Olive Green2
#A0C544 ◆ Dark Olive Green3

#FFFF00 ◆Yellow
#FFFC17 ◆ Yellow1
#FFF380 ◆ Khaki1
#EDE275 ◆ Khaki2
#EDDA74 ◆ Goldenrod
#FBB917 ◆ Goldenrod1
#E9AB17 ◆ Goldenrod2
#FDD017 ◆ Gold1
#EAC117 ◆ Gold2
#D4A017 ◆ Gold
#C7A317 ◆ Gold3
#C68E17 ◆ Goldenrod3
#AF7817 ◆ Dark Goldenrod
#ADA96E ◆ Khaki
#C9BE62 ◆ Khaki3
#827839 ◆ Khaki4
#FBB117 ◆ Dark Goldenrod1
#E8A317 ◆ Dark Goldenrod2
#C58917 ◆ Dark Goldenrod3
#F87431 ◆ Sienna1
#E66C2C ◆ Sienna2
#F88017 ◆ Dark Orange
#F87217 ◆ Dark Orange1
#E56717 ◆ Dark Orange2
#C35617 ◆ Dark Orange3

#C35817 ◆ Sienna3
#8A4117 ◆ Sienna
#7E3517 ◆ Indian Red4
#7E2217 ◆ Dark Orange3
#7E3117 ◆ Salmon4
#7E3817 ◆ Dark Goldenrod4
#7F5217 ◆ Gold4
#806517 ◆ Goldenrod4
#805817 ◆ Light Salmon4
#7F462C ◆ Light Salmon4
#C85A17 ◆ Chocolate
#C34A2C ◆ Coral3
#E55B3C ◆ Coral2
#F76541 ◆ Coral
#E18B6B ◆ Dark Salmon
#F88158 ◆ Pale Turquoise4
#E67451◆ Salmon2
#C36241◆ Salmon3
#C47451 ◆ Light Salmon3
#E78A61◆ Light Salmon2
#F9966B ◆ Light Salmon
#EE9A4D ◆ Sandy Brown

#F660AB ◆ Hot Pink
#F665AB ◆ Hot Pink1
#E45E9D ◆ Hot Pink2
#C25283 ◆ Hot Pink3
#7D2252 ◆ Hot Pink4

#E77471 ◆ Light Coral
#F75D59 ◆ Indian Red1
#E55451 ◆ Indian Red2
#C24641 ◆ Indian Red3

#FF0000 ◆ Red
#F62217 ◆ Red1
#E41B17 ◆ Red2
#F62817 ◆ Firebrick1
#E42217 ◆ Firebrick2
#C11B17 ◆ Firebrick3

#C11B17 ◆ Pink
#FAAFBE ◆ Rosy Brown1
#FBBBB9 ◆ Rosy Brown2
#E8ADAA ◆ Pink2
#E7A1B0 ◆ Light Pink
#FAAFBA ◆ Light Pink1
#F9A7B0 ◆ Light Pink2
#E799A3 ◆ Pink3
#C48793 ◆ Rosy Brown3
#C5908E ◆ Rosy Brown
#B38481 ◆ Pink3
#C48189 ◆ Light Pink3
#7F5A58 ◆Rosy Brown4
#7F4E52 ◆ Light Pink4
#7F525D ◆ Pink4
#817679 ◆| Lavendar Blush4
#817339 ◆ Light Goldenrod4
#827B60 ◆ Lemon Chiffon4
#C9C299 ◆ Lemon Chiffon3
#C8B560 ◆ Light Goldenrod3
#ECD672 ◆ Light Golden2
#ECD872 ◆ Light Goldenrod
#FFE87C ◆ Light Goldenrod1
#ECE5B6 ◆ Lemon Chiffon2
#FFF8C6 ◆ Lemon Chiffon
#FAF8CC ◆ Light Goldenrod Yellow

[Oh For The Love of Cod]

🌈 ＷＥＬＣＯＭＥ ＴＯ ＴＨＥ ＳＫＹ 🌈

🌁 Hello, beautiful people. I'm Bach Choy (call me any variation of that you wish) and I'm happy to meet you. I'm 22 years young, work as both a retail cashier and child caregiver, and have no life outside of that. Lol. If I'm not working, I'm likely home reading, writing, or watching movies. I make graphics sometimes, but I've been too tense lately to keep my shops open. If we role play together, I'll make your graphics for free, seeing as I enjoy doing it for people who take a writing journey with me. You guys deserve it. ❤

I'm in need of some new role plays right now, as the only one I have is... well, let's not. It's a source of my frustration at the moment, so I need some fresh blood in this organism I call my muse. I need some new characters to love, some new stories to think about.

🌁 Some rules:
- Please be around my age
- Heterosexual pairings only
- Threads only
- Real photos only
- Please, please, please try to post every other day. I'm home every night, therefore I'm available for role playing nightly. I do not have the patience for one post a week, I'm sorry.
- We need to be able to Skype! I want to be friends, not just partners.
- We need a Pinterest board! I'm extremely visual, and I promise having a board for the RP will be a blast.
- No one liners, but don't feel pressured to write what you don't need to.
- Please don't be afraid to voice your opinions to me. We're a team. ❤

🌁 Themes:
- Vampires
- Lycanthropes
- Regency/Victorian Era
- American Slave Trade
- Supernatural Worlds
- Futuristic
- Trash to Class
- Rebels
- Mystery
- Dark Elements
- Crime
- Japanese History
- Your Ideas ❤

I don't have any solid ideas right now, and that list isn't nearly complete, but if you come to me with a theme or an inkling, we can build something together. It's always better that way. Please quote me here! If you have any questions, please ask me.

[Oh For The Love of Cod]

alkdcnsdkjfnjs

[Oh For The Love of Cod]

Welcome. This is temporary. I am out of gold, so.

I'm just here for a little bit to make some graphics. I won't do GIF work for less than 20b, and I won't do non-GIF work for less than 10b. Just keep that in mind. Important: You offering a lot of gold does not mean your graphic will be better than someone who offered less. Your graphic depends on what I have to work with, my inspiration for it, and my limits. If you offer a hefty sum and your graphic is not as awesome as the person's before you who offered less, no, I will not refund you. It was your choice to offer me that price. I make no guarantees.

With that out of the way, here are some samples:





























Notes:
-Many GIFs cannot be blended seamlessly like the first two samples. I made those GIFs myself from videos, so if the GIFs are not made my me, I cannot guarantee they will blend. I will try, and if it does not cooperate, I will do a plan B for you.
-Try not to rush me.

If you want a graphic, fill this out:

[b]Images:
Lyrics:
Character/Thread Name:
Price:
Tip?:
Other:[/b]

[Oh For The Love of Cod]

ＪＵＳＴ ＡＮＯＴＨＥＲ ＲＥＢＥＬ ＩＮ ＴＨＥ ＧＲＥＡＴ ＷＩＤＥ ＯＰＥＮ ＯＮ ＴＨＥ ＢＯＵＬＥＶＡＲＤ ＯＦ ＢＲＯＫＥＮ ＤＲＥＡＭＳ

ＪＵＳＴ ＡＮＯＴＨＥＲ ＲＥＢＥＬ ＩＮ ＴＨＥ ＧＲＥＡＴ ＷＩＤＥ ＯＰＥＮ ＯＮ ＴＨＥ ＢＯＵＬＥＶＡＲＤ ＯＦ ＢＲＯＫＥＮ ＤＲＥＡＭＳ

ＪＵＳＴ ＡＮＯＴＨＥＲ ＲＥＢＥＬ ＩＮ ＴＨＥ ＧＲＥＡＴ ＷＩＤＥ ＯＰＥＮ ＯＮ ＴＨＥ ＢＯＵＬＥＶＡＲＤ ＯＦ ＢＲＯＫＥＮ ＤＲＥＡＭＳ

ＪＵＳＴ ＡＮＯＴＨＥＲ ＲＥＢＥＬ ＩＮ ＴＨＥ ＧＲＥＡＴ ＷＩＤＥ ＯＰＥＮ ＯＮ ＴＨＥ ＢＯＵＬＥＶＡＲＤ ＯＦ ＢＲＯＫＥＮ ＤＲＥＡＭＳ

ＪＵＳＴ ＡＮＯＴＨＥＲ ＲＥＢＥＬ ＩＮ ＴＨＥ ＧＲＥＡＴ ＷＩＤＥ ＯＰＥＮ ＯＮ ＴＨＥ ＢＯＵＬＥＶＡＲＤ ＯＦ ＢＲＯＫＥＮ ＤＲＥＡＭＳ

ＪＵＳＴ ＡＮＯＴＨＥＲ ＲＥＢＥＬ ＩＮ ＴＨＥ ＧＲＥＡＴ ＷＩＤＥ ＯＰＥＮ ＯＮ ＴＨＥ ＢＯＵＬＥＶＡＲＤ ＯＦ ＢＲＯＫＥＮ ＤＲＥＡＭＳ

ＪＵＳＴ ＡＮＯＴＨＥＲ ＲＥＢＥＬ ＩＮ ＴＨＥ ＧＲＥＡＴ ＷＩＤＥ ＯＰＥＮ ＯＮ ＴＨＥ ＢＯＵＬＥＶＡＲＤ ＯＦ ＢＲＯＫＥＮ ＤＲＥＡＭＳ

[Oh For The Love of Cod]

Location: || Accompanied By: || Mood: || Wearing:

tab Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet, facilisi nec neque suscipit rutrum, curabitur in, accumsan amet magnis at id, feugiat ultricies et, id eget congue risus vel tempor nam. Sollicitudin ut sollicitudin mauris, at velit malesuada, iaculis wisi consectetuer suspendisse semper, cursus aliquet arcu. Parturient consectetuer mauris orci vestibulum suspendisse, orci massa sed sodales morbi vitae.

[Oh For The Love of Cod]

tab Sirens.

Westerville, or any city for that matter, never failed to have its fair share of sirens. The more populated a place was,
the more sirens you’d hear. People were always getting sick or getting hurt, not to mention they were monsters.
Squad cars, fire trucks, ambulances: they were speeding off to somewhere at all hours of the day. In a city, “to serve and
protect” seemed more like a burden
than a privilege. To constantly serve, to tirelessly protect, it had to get old. There was never a shortage of need, and
one had to wonder when the rescuers ever stopped and thought when will someone rescue me?

Quilo Quail was in the back of an ambulance, again, for the third time in three months. He was beginning to think himself best friends with the EMTs and ER staff, what with his dangerous lifestyle keeping him in constant pain. There was no time for his body to heal before the next blow came to knock him off the edge and onto the rocks. Dashed, battered, broken, and torn, he was surprised he managed to stay alive as long as he had. His time was growing short, he knew that, but he wasn’t ready to lay down and die just yet. The soul inside of him was clawing for dear life, and as long as it clawed, Quilo would grapple with it. He wasn’t going to let go until it was the only option he had left, and his iron will was probably why he suffered through the mortification of being known by name by medical personnel.

He was in need of another transfusion, which was the usual treatment. The man wore himself down to the vein, tempting and goading good ol’ hyper bulimic shock. He courted it relentlessly, doing the dance until his feet went numb. He would lose pints upon pints of blood in days, weeks, and grow so incredibly sick and weak that he had no other option but to call 911 for himself. In his line of work, blood was water. You couldn’t survive, couldn’t do what he did without using it. His blood, imbued with dark matter undetectable by machines, drenched the soil of countless graveyards, summoning what lay six feet below. By blood and by life he called forth the bumps in the night.

Not only did he have to open a vein and let it rain down, he also had to let the newly risen corpse latch its foul mouth around whatever wound he’d inflicted on himself and feed. Again, blood was water. A necromancer’s job wasn’t easy, it wasn’t distanced or done by words alone, it was deeply physical and metaphysical both. To raise something dead, one had to offer up their own life in exchange, both in soul and in blood. Nobody could live without blood or a soul, so it took both of those to bring the spark of life back into a sack of bones and decayed flesh. It took more to reform a corpse into a zombie. Amateur animators could call forth weak and disoriented corpses, but expert animators could mimic life itself if they were willing to give enough.

Quilo had no limits.

Probably why he was twenty-seven and almost dead.

Tonight’s job was the straw that broke the camel’s back, as the adage goes. Quilo was ashen and weak as it was, had promised himself he wouldn’t take another client until his body recuperated on its own, but he couldn’t tell the family no. They were grieving the loss of a child due to an unfortunate boating accident, and foul play had been suspected. All they wanted was the truth so that they could start building a case if there was one to build. The only person who could tell the truth was the deceased, and Quilo wanted to give the family the closure and the confidence they needed to get justice for their little boy.

Despite ending up in the hospital, Quilo didn’t regret his decision. The boy was so fresh a corpse that he was easy to raise, still had all of his memories. His uncle had been drunk while driving the boat, drunk and angry. Jacob, the boy, had expressed his concern when his uncle started to slowly lose control of the boat, and that ended in yelling and hitting and… well. Jacob wasn’t a strong swimmer, not yet, and after a throttling, going overboard was scary. Quilo could only imagine how frightening it had been for an eight year old to feel himself drowning.

Not many people knew about necromancers and witches, but word got around where it needed to. There was a handful of cops who knew, but they were tight lipped and smart, meaning they took the information Quilo gathered from the dead and whipped up evidence and built cases based on the truth. Sure, there were a lot of unanswered questions, but as long as the perp got what was coming, who really cared? The uncle was going to face a lot more than being drunk and negligent, and that’s what Quilo, and everyone involved, wanted.

Almost going into hyper bulimic shock to get justice for a child’s murder, even if it was involuntary manslaughter, was worth it.

The EMTs rushed the gurney into the ER, medical staff hurrying to Quilo’s aid as they were told what was going on and what needed to be done to stabilize him. Quilo was in and out during the whole ride, vision floating between light and dark, fuzzy and clear. The slice that ran down his forearm had been bandaged by the EMTs, but it was bleeding through the stark white. He’d need stitches again, but he needed that transfusion more. There was barely enough blood left in his body to stay alive, and he could feel himself slipping. Funny how familiar that sensation was. He wasn’t even scared anymore. It was almost… peaceful. Calm.

He could feel Death hovering, could hear It complaining about how it wasn’t his time yet. In the flurry of activity happening around him, Quilo was perfectly at ease on the gurney. Hell, he even managed to crack a faint smile at his lingering master’s pesky nature.

[Oh For The Love of Cod]

tab And his heart had overflowed with the happiness of the night he spent in celebratory splendor with his fiance. She’d scintillated in her special outfit, cut quite the figure in it, and left an impression on his heart and mind. His doubts about the new career choice had fizzled out once he found himself in her loving embrace, the light of her smile shedding itself upon his darkened plains. Transient relief, mitigation by way of blind love, but it paved the path for a memorable evening that celebrated his success, his devotion, and his love; all of this not only for Denham and his new position but for Xylia too. She would be lifted to heights he had never bothered to lift her to before because she deserved the very best of him that he could muster. Even if it caused his arms to tremble, he would not let her fall. Love was work. Love was never easy. His mission was to save her from the misfortunate of her last name by giving her his, and he would save Denham one civilian at a time besides.

Saving Denham one civilian at a time was more accurate than Yale had anticipated it to be. You think of big league police officers crashing drug deals and killing parties, cases that saved handfuls of people. While the DSPD did take on cases of that nature, those weren’t the cases handed down to the newb on the team. Those were the cases Rico headed, as he was Captain. Don, the sergeant, would dictate who took lesser, but still delicate, cases. Senior officers such as Chin Sun and Victoria were often assigned those cases, Simon and Primo too. Yale often found himself working with the runts of the litter, children like Cameron or Byron. If he was lucky, he’d find himself partnered with Xiao Wen or Veronica, Kit or Kerrington, Charlie or Jimmy. Everyone had more experience than he did, but all of them lacked the age. Yale was the oldest creature on the force, and that served him well in other ways. He was the most powerful, the most intimidating, the very man who had created this police force. Needless to say, despite his low rank, he was more respected than anyone else.

Sarge, the police chief, had not-so-subtly mentioned his allegiance to Yale in private; as if Yale were still in the running to be master. Daisuke was master now, and Yale intimated to Sarge that such allegiances were appreciated but dangerous. Loyalty was huge to Yale, and for someone to still look at him with the reverence he deserved made his vampiric heart soar. Unfortunately, he wanted to avoid a battle with Daisuke, so throwing the M word around was not prudent. To many people, Yale was still master, but his title was gone and it needed to remain that way. In the shadows, he would silently accept his followers and believers and loyal men, but in the light, he was nothing but a low ranking officer. Sarge agreed to maintain the airs, but he made it clear Yale had his ear. Yale was above him in so many ways aside from rank. Yale had questioned Sarge if that was a smart move to make, and the man didn’t remove his life from Yale’s hands even an inch. Anything Yale wanted, anything at all, it was his. A subject must worship its master, and Sarge was at Yale’s behest.

Even after two weeks of occupying a desk in the DSPD station, Yale was still tip-toed around like a lion. None of the other officers wanted to accidentally step on his toe and risk being gutted. Yale couldn’t promise he’d never snap, but he honestly had no ill feelings or intentions. No matter how many genuine smiles he offered or how many helping hands he gave, his co-workers remained distant. They would look at him all askance, some of them itching to come forward and try to bond, but their fear of his reputation, of his prestige, of who he was kept them at bay. It was no secret Sarge was Yale’s b***h; anyone would be Yale’s b***h. He formed this force, he practically owned it. If not for him, there would be no justice for the night. It didn’t matter that his uniform was unadorned, that he was the smallest officer on the totem pole--he was the biggest man in the whole city, a man who was once addressed as Mr. Mayor and Master. With but a presence in the room, he commanded respect and got it. But being respected was also a little lonely.

Aside from the trammels involved with his assimilation, Yale enjoyed the work he did as a supernatural police officer. It gave him the opportunity to interact on a personal level with his people, and that was the reason he joined the force in the first place. His passion for Denham and her flourishing was the driving force behind his recent decisions. In his current position, he could protect the civilians he so cared about face to face. He could touch them, see them, become a figure that was there present and not an image on a screen. For all the good he did in his titled positions, for all the love he received, he had never been able to connect with anybody he was serving. Now, he had names to faces, stories and successes; he truly took an interest in those he aimed to serve. He wasn’t in it for the glory, wasn’t in it because he was strong; he was in it because his heart cried out for it. Because, despite his darkness, he had a lot of love to share.

On the days he felt the loneliest, Yale would spend some free time at the station with Zane. It took some getting used to, of course, trying to have an affable relationship with the man who tried to kill you and raped your girlfriend, but Yale had a connection with Zane, and sometimes you had to play on connections until new ones came to pass. They weren’t friends, but they chatted and partook in rec time together just to stave off the chill of inner isolation. Zane was often by himself with the prisoners as the warden, and it took a toll on one’s emotions and mental state when your days were filled with baring your fangs at reprobates and sociopaths. Yale offered him intelligent conversation, and Zane offered him a way to feel settled. It wasn’t a relationship Yale mentioned to Xylia, and it wasn’t a relationship he particularly cared to keep, but it was a necessary evil. Temporarily, he hoped.

Tonight, Yale was assigned a case that was low profile. Of course. He took his cases with a grain of salt. While his pride was bruised from time to time, he understood he had to work his way up to the headliners. He was content, you know? At least, he was doing what he wanted, and that was helping Denham. Tiny case or big case, it was all the same goal in his heart.

Another thing that aided Yale’s lonely endeavors was Xylia. It was against protocol to involve outside civilians in cases, but Yale managed to get his sweetheart in on his work with the excuse--and truth--that she was his human servant. Her close proximity to him boosted his power, upped his chances of success in a sticky situation. With half of his soul in her body, she was a vital piece of who he was. Cadogan and Greg had the OK to tag along if need be, but Yale hadn’t needed either of those boys yet. Xylia was closer at hand, and she took an interest in his work, unlike Cadogan. Cad was a lazy a** hillbilly, you know. Bernadette and Prince were also constant presences. They hung around the station in front of a TV or with coloring books like children until Yale had need to absorb them. He brought along a lot of necessary baggage to the force, but no one dared complain.

Yale had gotten used to Xylia’s golem, believe it or not. In fact, he preferred it when she took the thing with her. It bolstered her defenses, which, in turn, kept Yale safer. Velvet had been correct in suggesting it was a good idea. Of course, Velvet was always right.

The call was for a simple domestic disturbance in the historic district, a district Yale rarely visited outside of Velvet and, occasionally, Sasha. Yes, the Victorian relics still had a place in Yale’s life, those freakish beings with their unholy menage a trois. Cesare remained the ever charming ringleader of the Freakshow downtown, and Sasha continued to provide Yale with venom. Being a reptile had its benefits when you had powerful friends. Yale paid Sasha well to fill vials full of his venom, and that venom was kept happily chilled in the walk-in freezer for unknown uses. You never know when you’re going to need to poison someone, right?

The historic district, the parts of it that curved into residential depths, was an unsettling place. Every house was large and ancient, the windows aglow like eyes in the night. It was mostly occupied by vampires and witches, fitting antipodes for the decaying charm. The scent of magic lingered like a perfume on the air of historic Denham, and it mingled with the stench of vampiric death. On the upside, it housed some of the most beautiful architecture Denham had to offer. The cemeteries were still used to this day for their other worldliness. Plots were expensive and sought after, and it gave the market for tombstones a crutch to lean on. Witches preferred those cemeteries above all others for how the graves would sing. Old death, old power. You could find many frightful things in those death gardens at night.

Yale drove at the crawling speed of 25, not because he was a good cop obeying the speed limit, but because he had a creeping suspicion that if he went too fast through this sect, something unfortunate would happen. And not a wreck. Certain areas expected to be given a kind of respect, and the historic district was one of those areas. It was the death thing again. It was respecting what preceded the present. What was happening in the now would not exist without the posterity of the past.

Equipped with Bernadette and Prince, complete with Xylia at his side, Yale was sure he could obliterate anything that got in his way, not that he anticipated anything unruly tonight. Domestic disturbances were often drug induced or drunken rampages, untoward violence or verbal conflagrations. Once a cop showed up, things typically simmered down. A fair warning was the usual method of deflation, and if a call was made a second time, action would be taken. Yale had answered several domestic calls in the past two weeks, none of them resulting in an arrest. Seeing him at your doorstep was enough incentive to shut the ******** up and behave; he didn’t even have to be a cop to make waves. He expected tonight to be the same scenario, he just wished it was in a different part of town.

The charger slowed to a halt when the GPS intoned the arrival at the destination, computerized male voice breaking the silence within the vehicle. Yale put the car in park and pulled the key, crimson eyes staring at the beetling house to his left. It was black, ashen wood with peaked roofing and three stories. No lights shone from the windows; all was dark and lifeless. The porch was dilapidated, the columns cracked and crumbling, and the footpath had long since been overgrown with weeds. Sagely trees dotted the property, extended back into a woodsy copse. The house looked deserted, abandoned, and he checked the address to make sure this was the place he was meant to come to. Was it the house next door? His eyes scanned the vacant street with its eerie fluorescent light posts, and his confusion grew with every second. The numbers on the mailbox matched the address, but something just didn’t feel right.

“It savors strongly of a haunt,” he murmured, ruby irises flicking to Xylia beside him. “I can’t hear anything, the air is dead…” he went on, looking towards the ominous house again. “Stay here. I’ll make certain it’s safe for you to draw nearer before I let you do it.” His hand squeezed her knee ere he opened the door. “Something’s not kosher, and it’s not just the salt.”

The car door echoed in the stillness, Yale’s boots following the sound with a gentler plod. He adjusted his gun belt, the shoulder holster, and his shirt cuffs as he stared searchingly at the grass beside the sidewalk. Call him old fashioned, but he never felt right tromping across someone’s yard. The concrete footpath soon came into view, long grasses arching over it, weeds shooting up through it. Yale stepped onto it, crushed the grass and weeds beneath his feet, and followed its straight trail up to the rickety steps. He tested the strength of the bottom step with one foot, listened to it groan agonizingly under his weight, and chose to skip the steps with one long leg.

Less graceful men would have staggered at the move, but a dusty vampire lost zero balance. Yale brought his other leg up with ease and kept walking, the porch boards creaking with his every move. Seeing no doorbell, he lifted a fist and banged; it was loud enough to draw attention, but not harsh enough to be threatening.

“Police!” He called, voice firm but not angry.

The waiting game began. Yale listened for movement inside for a straight minute, listened for anything at all, but his vampiric ears only heard the scrabble of rats somewhere hidden. As he raised his fist to bang again, he caught a heartbeat. His hand froze above the chipped wood, garnet gaze locked onto the door anxiously. The disembodied heartbeat drew nearer, and with its approach, Yale’s gut started to tell him to run. Whatever was behind that door, it wasn’t an entity Yale wanted to meet. But it was his job to meet it, and he swallowed back the eeriness, the foreboding, the chill. He lowered his fist to his side. The heartbeat pounded just on the other side.

The door creaked as it was tugged open, and Yale backed up a step to give the young woman room. His eyes roved over her, took in her white tank top and cupcake pajama bottoms, silken black hair and dark almond eyes. She was, in her plainness, striking. The stun factor was in her face, the natural beauty that looked unreal. Plush, heart shaped lips; elegantly sloped eyes bedecked with thick lashes; contoured bone structure and celestial nose: she appeared well bred, well bred in the ancient sense. Her silence and her direct gaze effectively added to Yale’s stupefaction, and he couldn’t seem to the clear the frog out of his throat.

“Yes?” She finally asked, voice soft and sweet, though laced with confusion.

“There was a call,” Yale found himself saying, “about a disturbance. Is everything well, madam?”

“Perfectly well,” she replied, shining smile stretching across her pretty face. “So sorry you had to come out, Mr. Yorkshire,” she went on, her smile quickly twisting into something awful, “but now that you’re here,” she stopped.

Everything became a blur as black turned into blonde and pajamas into frills, smiles into gnashing razors, hands into grabbing claws. Yale had little time to react to the witchy shift, could only burst into bats to avoid her wild attack. The screech of his many parts caused the night to explode with horrific noise, his numerous wings beating the air. He stayed close to the roof, but the witch had succeeded in capturing two or three of his bats, so he was stuck in snub-nosed multiples unless he wanted to hop around without a foot or fight without a hand.

Yale loathed witches, as we all know, and he had to make a decision: figure out a way to stop this miscreant, or die. The obvious choice was to stop the blasted thing, but as soon as she switched forms, her aura and her scent--everything about her--flooded the air and charged it with vile sorcery. It was crushingly powerful, sickeningly sweet, and the most terrifying feeling Yale could recall in so long.

It was Romell. She had come back like she promised him.

“Yale!” She sang out from the yard below. “Yale, look!”

The bats she’d captured came darting to the roof as if they’d come out of Hell, and their arrival allowed for him to reform. Every bat converged, and a whirlwind of wings resulted in a terrified vampire standing on the roof. He stared down at the yard to find Romell hugging Xylia against her chest, and a wordless cry of rage ripped its way out of Yale, much to the witch’s amusement. She laughed full and bold into the night, head thrown back and foot stomping.

“Oh!” She said, rolling her head to the side and peering up at him. “If you want her, come and get her!” And she petted Xylia’s red hair while rocking her to and fro. “I’ll take you over her any day, Yorkshire! It’s your head that I want! You will give it to me if you at all value her life! You! Will! Give! It! To! Me!” She screamed, vanishing with Xylia.

Yale was off the roof in a split second, feet landing on the grass for but a moment ere he ran onto the porch and into the house. The fear of Romell would never be enough to deter him from keeping Xylia safe. As he slammed the door behind him, he could feel Romell’s presence, and Xylia’s, but it was everywhere. Like a fine mist, it permeated the entire house, which made them impossible to find. She could lead him on a goose chase and win. But he wasn’t gonna let her win. Not this time.

“Romell!” Yale roared.

[Oh For The Love of Cod]

tab Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet, facilisi nec neque suscipit rutrum, curabitur in, accumsan amet magnis at id, feugiat ultricies et, id eget congue risus vel tempor nam. Sollicitudin ut sollicitudin mauris, at velit malesuada, iaculis wisi consectetuer suspendisse semper, cursus aliquet arcu. Parturient consectetuer mauris orci vestibulum suspendisse, orci massa sed sodales morbi vitae.

Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet, facilisi nec neque suscipit rutrum, curabitur in, accumsan amet magnis at id, feugiat ultricies et, id eget congue risus vel tempor nam. Sollicitudin ut sollicitudin mauris, at velit malesuada, iaculis wisi consectetuer suspendisse semper, cursus aliquet arcu. Parturient consectetuer mauris orci vestibulum suspendisse, orci massa sed sodales morbi vitae.

Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet, facilisi nec neque suscipit rutrum, curabitur in, accumsan amet magnis at id, feugiat ultricies et, id eget congue risus vel tempor nam. Sollicitudin ut sollicitudin mauris, at velit malesuada, iaculis wisi consectetuer suspendisse semper, cursus aliquet arcu. Parturient consectetuer mauris orci vestibulum suspendisse, orci massa sed sodales morbi vitae.

Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet, facilisi nec neque suscipit rutrum, curabitur in, accumsan amet magnis at id, feugiat ultricies et, id eget congue risus vel tempor nam. Sollicitudin ut sollicitudin mauris, at velit malesuada, iaculis wisi consectetuer suspendisse semper, cursus aliquet arcu. Parturient consectetuer mauris orci vestibulum suspendisse, orci massa sed sodales morbi vitae.

Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet, facilisi nec neque suscipit rutrum, curabitur in, accumsan amet magnis at id, feugiat ultricies et, id eget congue risus vel tempor nam. Sollicitudin ut sollicitudin mauris, at velit malesuada, iaculis wisi consectetuer suspendisse semper, cursus aliquet arcu. Parturient consectetuer mauris orci vestibulum suspendisse, orci massa sed sodales morbi vitae.

Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet, facilisi nec neque suscipit rutrum, curabitur in, accumsan amet magnis at id, feugiat ultricies et, id eget congue risus vel tempor nam. Sollicitudin ut sollicitudin mauris, at velit malesuada, iaculis wisi consectetuer suspendisse semper, cursus aliquet arcu. Parturient consectetuer mauris orci vestibulum suspendisse, orci massa sed sodales morbi vitae.

Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet, facilisi nec neque suscipit rutrum, curabitur in, accumsan amet magnis at id, feugiat ultricies et, id eget congue risus vel tempor nam. Sollicitudin ut sollicitudin mauris, at velit malesuada, iaculis wisi consectetuer suspendisse semper, cursus aliquet arcu. Parturient consectetuer mauris orci vestibulum suspendisse, orci massa sed sodales morbi vitae.

Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet, facilisi nec neque suscipit rutrum, curabitur in, accumsan amet magnis at id, feugiat ultricies et, id eget congue risus vel tempor nam. Sollicitudin ut sollicitudin mauris, at velit malesuada, iaculis wisi consectetuer suspendisse semper, cursus aliquet arcu. Parturient consectetuer mauris orci vestibulum suspendisse, orci massa sed sodales morbi vitae.

Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet, facilisi nec neque suscipit rutrum, curabitur in, accumsan amet magnis at id, feugiat ultricies et, id eget congue risus vel tempor nam. Sollicitudin ut sollicitudin mauris, at velit malesuada, iaculis wisi consectetuer suspendisse semper, cursus aliquet arcu. Parturient consectetuer mauris orci vestibulum suspendisse, orci massa sed sodales morbi vitae.

Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet, facilisi nec neque suscipit rutrum, curabitur in, accumsan amet magnis at id, feugiat ultricies et, id eget congue risus vel tempor nam. Sollicitudin ut sollicitudin mauris, at velit malesuada, iaculis wisi consectetuer suspendisse semper, cursus aliquet arcu. Parturient consectetuer mauris orci vestibulum suspendisse, orci massa sed sodales morbi vitae.

Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet, facilisi nec neque suscipit rutrum, curabitur in, accumsan amet magnis at id, feugiat ultricies et, id eget congue risus vel tempor nam. Sollicitudin ut sollicitudin mauris, at velit malesuada, iaculis wisi consectetuer suspendisse semper, cursus aliquet arcu. Parturient consectetuer mauris orci vestibulum suspendisse, orci massa sed sodales morbi vitae.

Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet, facilisi nec neque suscipit rutrum, curabitur in, accumsan amet magnis at id, feugiat ultricies et, id eget congue risus vel tempor nam. Sollicitudin ut sollicitudin mauris, at velit malesuada, iaculis wisi consectetuer suspendisse semper, cursus aliquet arcu. Parturient consectetuer mauris orci vestibulum suspendisse, orci massa sed sodales morbi vitae.

[Oh For The Love of Cod]

tab ren

[Oh For The Love of Cod]

tab Pheast was formerly Kikushi, a sushi joint owned by an elderly Japanese woman known as Kiki. It was located on one of those streets, you know, the ones that begin to feed into Chinatown. Oriental lettering starts to dot the storefronts, lucky cats are painted onto windows in cheap paint that chipped after the first big thunderstorm. Next door would be a local bail bonds business run by an ex-wrestler bigger than your height in width. It was one of those streets. Those streets that feed in but aren't the real thing. Kikushi wasn't Chinese, so it only hovered on the outskirts of Chinatown like a distant cousin. It had been a booming business in the 80's, and folks would come out in hordes to eat sushi and talk to little old Kiki. She had a toothless smile amid decades of smile lines and wrinkles, cloudy brown eyes and wispy gray hair. Her back was bent from osteoporosis, and her fingers were crooked due to arthritis. She never walked, no, she shuffled in tiny house shoes carrying trays of wonton soup. Her voice had always been the loudest, the shrillest, the happiest sound Wade could remember.

It went under in the early 00's due to Kiki's children falling behind on code. They didn't share her passion for tradition or for customer service. For being friends. The city shut it down, closed its painted doors without a shred of sympathy or pity. But someone, someone who loved it, bought it. And gave it second birth. New meaning. It became a gambling den named Pheast, which severely disappointed loyal customers. How could someone take a wholesome, family business and degrade it? Vandalize it's memory? Kiki would turn over in her grave to find her restaurant inhabited by avaricious cretins going bankrupt overnight. And what was worse, it wasn't even open to the general public. Kiki welcomed everyone from every walk of life, and now an entire race was banned from entering. It wasn't even member-exclusive, it was wrought with discrimination and prejudice.

Or so the common man would think.

Wade saw it in a different light, then again, he saw nearly everything in a different light. He'd known Kiki long ago, had the incomparable pleasure of calling her a friend. Sure, he'd been young, dumb, and twisted around; and she'd been old, wizened, and straight as a board; but they got on like peas and carrots. She was the most tender, forgiving, and accepting woman he'd ever known in his life. Maybe she was the only person to ever love him after his mother died. He'd had "friends" but. But. If you've got to add a catch to the end of a friend, that person isn't your friend. There were no catches on Kiki. Kiki was pure and beautiful, and Wade had lived a tolerable life when he called her friend. She'd taken care of him on the side sometimes, let him eat for free, paid him for staying after closing and mopping up the soy sauce stained floor. Five bucks. But it was something. It was a quick meal at McDonald's.

She'd died happy, you know. Maybe her kids mucked it up, but one of her regulars took it under his wing and made a safe place for the rejects of society, the hidden dark. Just how Kiki used to offer those strong old arms to anyone who needed a little love. Maybe Pheast didn't serve sushi, but it served acceptance. Maybe it didn't have pictures of Mt. Fuji on the walls, but it certainly had pictures of Kiki. His name was Craig. The new owner. Wade knew Craig about as long as he knew Kiki, but only as someone he recognized. Back then. Now, Craig was one of the only friends Wade had. But I digress. You see, while people shook their heads at Pheast, Wade believed Kiki would smile. The values of her business were still there, even if it was littered with cards and chips. Craig didn't really have much of a choice in what he did with the place though. He really didn't.

Craig was a vampire. Wade was too. Vampires don't eat, so what else was Craig supposed to do after he woke from the dead? He couldn't continue the restaurant, couldn't sully the place by turning it into a trashy club, so he made a quiet place of entertainment for the feared and the unloved. There were TVs among the paper lanterns hanging from the ceiling, pool tables and card tables where there used to be dining tables, dart boards amid the painted dragons and cherry blossoms; Craig did his best to preserve the feel. The foyer was still a walk through carved and lacquered screens, bamboo scrolls hanging overhead. The lanterns still suffused golden light, dim and conducive to the ambiance. It was still Kikushi, just for a different clientele. Humans didn't come in, and if they did, they learned quickly it wasn't a safe place for them. It wasn't that Craig said humans couldn't enter, but that he couldn't guarantee safety if they did. They were food. And not every vampire had self control.

Humans didn't really dabble in the supernatural world, meaning they didn't quite know it existed. Many of them refused to give it a second thought, and those that knew were scared enough to never mention it. Very few humans made friends with the monsters, and the monsters decided to sequester themselves in the shady grime of downtown. Near Chinatown. Where they knew they would be accepted, where they knew they wouldn't have to face racial war head on. Some vampires were bitter about it, others just accepted it for what it was. Yeah, it'd be nice to move freely, to coexist in peace, but such strides had yet to be made. There weren't really enough vampires to make a difference. Not here in New England. Not here in Kingsbury. Not here.

Wade was barely surviving, as usual. He lived in a dark hovel down on 5th, a ghost street painted in graffiti. The room he had was just that: a room. His bed occupied the whole floor almost, and beside of that was a mini fridge and a microwave. Both unplugged and used for storage. A tiny table as big as a lunch tray on folding legs leaned against the wall. Every wall was covered in photos, polaroids, pieces of his past. And a bathroom the size of a thumb nail. He had that. That was it. That was all. For a hundred and fifty bucks a month, he got that. And he could barely even afford that, as he worked maybe once or twice every few months? He had no savings, and his addictions kept him poor. Gambling, drugs, lottery tickets. At least he ate for free.

Ha.

The organization, a clandestine group of highly skilled agents, was Wade's employer. He'd gotten into a stint of theft and hacking, trying to survive without having to work, and found himself discovered by the organization by chance. Apparently, he had a knack for criminal work, and Wade wouldn't disagree. He'd hacked and swiped since the 80's, had nearly thirty years of experience in it, and he had a talent for tech. They called him Tramp: Technological Reconnaissance Vampire. Though the dictionary definition of the word would be accurate too. They paid him several hundred dollars for cracking codes, hacking databases, and setting up intricate surveillance. They wanted to promote him now. To real field work. It would pay more.

In order to be promoted, he would need to be supervised on his first mission that took him outside of a computer screen. Apparently, there was a virus being spread through computers and devices all over the city, a virus that was, supposedly, brainwashing those it infected. Reports were few and sketchy, but it was alarming enough to investigate. Yeah, Wade would be spending a lot of time in front of a screen for this, but there was field work involved too. Work he'd be doing with a partner he'd never met. Honestly, he didn't know a lot of people. He didn't even know a quarter of the agents in his own organization. If he did, it was by name only.

Her name, yes, her, was Charlotte. Wade didn't know her, not even by name, and so he was anxious and uncertain about the entire idea of being babysat by some woman he'd never met. He was briefed about her, of course, and what made his body tense the most was that she was a ghost. Something dead. Right, but wasn't Wade dead too? In a sense, yeah, but not dead. Charlotte was a damn ghost, a real and corporeal spirit working as a supernatural agent. The odds, right? Wade had seen a lot of weird s**t in his life, but he'd never come face to face with a ghost, especially not one holding down a job and assigned to babysit him. Made him feel like jeepers creepers.

Wade leaned back in the red leather booth. Craig had kept those for large groups who just wanted a place to relax and play a few lax games. Half circle booths. You know, the big ones. Wade was situated in the middle, legs outstretched, and fingers drumming against the table. A deck of cards sat in the middle of the table, and he stared at it for the longest time. His fingers itched to deal, to play, to pull whatever wadded up cash he had in his pockets out. Sometimes he won, sometimes he didn't. Most of the time he didn't. Addictions were terrible.

Laughter, distant laughter, reached Wade's ears in bursts. There were faces he recognized among the patrons. None of them were friends. His green eyes flicked nervously to the foyer, back down to the cards, then to his trembling fingers. Those he clenched. He needed a fix, and not gambling. He looked at the foyer again. Where was she? She was five minutes late, that Charlotte. They were meeting at Pheast to discuss the mission, and Wade wanted to be done with it a thousand years ago. He wanted to go home so he could he stop this damned tremble in his fingers. He'd been holding off on it, seeing as he was running so, so low and didn't have the money to restock. This was the consequence.

Wade brought a shaking finger to his mouth to chew at the skin bordering his short nail. The other hand habitually tugged at the lever back cross earring in his left ear. He'd tugged and rubbed at it so much for so long that the black paint had begun to chip away. He needed black paint or else. Lord, he needed black paint.

He needed so much.