Hades Moon

Who's Your Daddy? As Tic hung up the phone, his mind swirled and he knew what he had to do. The dark cloud of anger toward his Father seeped into every other thought, every action...  That is just like that selfish bastard... throwing the family into complete disarray with his death, just like he did in life. Not only was he a terrible father, he as a terrible businessman, and, even worse to Tic, a terrible person. Through the fog he hesitated as he hung up the phone with Liam...   so it was Victor after all. Not really a surprise I guess, but this certainly fucked with the family structure, dinn’it?  “How did Liam know about Victor??”, he thought.  “Jonah said it was too late for Liam, but…. maybe he’s ok? He always sounded weird on the phone, why should this be different? I do hope Liam is ok - him and Mother (and Stella and Izzy) are the only ones who really ever gave a shit about me. Fuck Father and Fuck Victor....” Through the fog of anger and resentment, he felt a strange war

Gabriel steps out of the cab, clutching the corner-store bouquet he'd bought at the last minute. Already, he regrets bringing the shabby flowers; Pru works in a funeral home, she sees them every day. Still, a romantic gesture feels appropriate, given what he's come to do.  "Wish me luck," he says to the driver, who grunts something like agreement before pulling away.  Gabriel steels his resolve. "Pru, I have feelings for you," he says to himself.  "Pru, I would like to take you out. Pru, would you fancy a date with me? Pru, I love you." None of it sounds right.  He ascends the steps and crosses the porch. A few night lights are on inside, but the mortuary is quiet. Should he have called first? It's too late now. He rings the bell, hearing it echo within the large house.  "Pru, I think I'm right for you.  Pru, you're the most beautiful girl I've ever seen.  Pru, you're special to me." He rings the bell again without ans

                                September 1987 “I know where he has a and I know who killed him. Irina Belyakov.”  Mako’s voice echoed through Anthony’s head as he laid in the worn bed at the Golden Dragon.  “Irina Belyakov, Irina Belyakov, Irina Belyakov.” Anthony repeated to himself with loathing in every syllable as if it were a mantra.  “I’m going to fucking end her. I’m going to rip her fucking throat out and make her suffer.” Anthony growled to himself.                                  July 1986 “Pellecano, you are going to get yourself killed!” His police chief reprimanded the hospitalized detective after a standoff with a murder suspect. “At times you have to use the necessary force to take a DANGEROUS, possibly armed suspect down. You have a gun for a reason Pellecano!” He yelled shaken by almost losing his best detective. You are too soft for your own good sometimes.” He sighed. 

    Alive “After so many years of waiting I never thought I could be so alive.” Cassius’ fangs pierced Vanessa’s skin.   The heat of Vanessa’s body vacated through the wound into waiting maw.   He promised that her questions would be answered.   What he didn’t tell her is that she was not ready for all the questions that she would end up asking. “That thing that keeps me buried is growing more and more silent. Is now the time the come through? As Vanessa’s heart slowed to a stop, she saw the world darken.   Then Cassius’ vitae rushed into Vanessa’s dead mouth. Hunger crowned in her dead heart. The pain spread through each muscle and ligament, each artery and vein, and each joint and bone as they all bore the hunger.   The parallel thought, which were ever present met a new thought. “ There, just behind you … Don ’ t you hear it? … There! That ’ s what we want. God can ’ t you just wait to taste it? Come on! … See even “ he ” says you can take a bite. ” The thou

People who wish to discipline the sexual organs should avoid drinking those artificial concoctions which are called 'aperitifs'— they open a way to the stomach for the vast meal which is to follow. The medicinal properties of the ‘digestif’ will not cleanse their soul. It is a rare pleasure to entertain a guest whose hunger burns hotter after the tenth course.

Your guests feel entitled to a sweet ending.  Their final sweets course must  be an unexpected brush with the divine. It is the inevitable conclusion: Their  god requires them to stay. The Father of House Etherington-Smith welcomes you to the feast.

A good chef will save their sharpest knives for the second entree.  Your guests will smell the red meat.  Your guests cannot hold back a moment longer. Your guests will sit at your altar and beg their god for every bleeding scrap you provide them. For a moment, Liam was sated. 

  Student Evaluation Form 18 th of June 1974, To the Dean of Student Affairs; It has been an honor to act as advisor and mentor Miss Barclay these past two years. She has shown intelligence and understanding far succeeding anticipated performance considering her station. Her recall and understanding of the field is quite remarkable. Miss Barclay’s interactions with patients is also remarkable considering those of her predisposition often tend towards being overly sympathetic and emotional. It is of note, however, that I point out her propensity towards less conservative treatment methods, which have undertones of fulfilling power fantasy and/or trying to fill the lack of sexual and romantic milestones normally reached by a proper Lady of her age.   Her curiosity and zeal push her into behavior that is not in line with the high expectations of our profession.   These moral and intellectual lackings are possibly due to some over inflated sense of importance brought on by an