Tag: Trust

Meditation 299 ~That’s The B-word Virgil~

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I’m not singing “Bye Bye Love” because of my sons. My B’s memory and his little brother V’s life. But how can we afford to keep our bellies full, keep breathing, and be at all? Life’s a B, or I’m busy jerking to one. Ew! “That’s The B-word, Virgil.”

Saturday, April 26, 2025

Meditation 299 ~That’s The B-word Virgil~

Hey, Lady Lu,
I am a Billionaire right now… I wish! At this rate, I would settle for a few hundred bucks. Or B III.

Suppose my firstborn son were here. My Braxton. I want to say I’d do anything for him. As Bryan Adams sang, I would tell Braxton, “I would fight for you. I lie for you. Walk the wire for you. Yeah, I’d die for you.” If he were here, he would only ask me to be “The BEST Man I Can Be.” His father? I have his little brother Virgil lying right here. My little Virgil. My love for “them” is beyond words, Dear Lady Lunalesca.

Without the big bucks, how am I going to save us? How the mighty have fallen! Who am I kidding, Lady Lunalesca? I have never been mighty. But I’ve gone from thinking, if I had enough money, I could have found a way to save Braxton to keeping Virgil cool.

Bums lack that type of power. Well, this BUM, anyway. I’ve seen plenty of people who love their fur buddies. And here I am trying to keep myself and Virgil from living under a bridge, my lady. And if Virgil wasn’t here, I would find a bridge and I’d… Follow my B III on his.

Braxton sent Virgil to be a bridge to this life. A barrier to keep me from following him in death. And a beacon to the man I once was. A father. In case you ever wonder how Virgil got his name. But I’m not Dante. He only went to Hell. But I’m alive. And my biggest fear (for the moment) is being a BUM or “a creep. I’m a weirdo.” I trust you enough to share these fears with you.

OMG, am I right? Better I should drool over Rei Ayanami or Kallen Stadtfeld, Lunalesca. What? Is writing about Cherry’s Yabbos or M Anime’s bedtime terrors still not paying the bills? Based on the Day Job schedule I got last night, I had better do something. I got zero hours for one week. Didn’t I say I’ve been wasting valuable paid sick leave for what?

Not to be “Balls Deep In Love” with Braxton and Virgil’s stepmom. First, Ew. Second, do I love her? Uh… We met through writing but never IRL, so… Third, I have to stop calling M Anime that. And focus on writing “Cries Come Women, Come Country” or any book. Erotica? Because I Never Can Say Goodbye. That’s The B-word, Virgil.

1546 Days Without B III, Day 987 of Virgil’s Arrival

B.L.M. Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Meditation 296 ~Braxton Wasn’t Planned, Virgil~

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I didn’t plan on being a Dad. And I can’t count on being a husband. Last I saw, I was $3,000 in the hole. Showing a bunch of anime holes or writing about lady parts equals a whole lot of nothing. My boys need to eat. “Braxton Wasn’t Planned, Virgil.”

Wednesday, April 23, 2025

Meditation 296 ~Braxton Wasn’t Planned, Virgil~

Bless Me, Echo,
For I have sinned… But no, I haven’t knocked up Braxton and Virgil’s future stepmom. I should stop calling “M Anime” that.

“Accidents ambush the unsuspecting, often violently, just like love.”
― Andrew Davidson from The Gargoyle

I didn’t plan on having a son. I didn’t plan on my Braxton. I didn’t plan on being a Dad. But one night, my father walks in with this little ball of fluff. And though I had begged for a dog for years… There’s this tiny thing being flopped into my sister’s hands. My Neo.

That’s what I called him anyway. My Ma quickly changed it to Braxton. But to me, he would always be “The ONE.” And because my sister knew how to make a life. And “I am an equal opportunity misanthrope.” “Here I Am”: Father, Friend, and Fiend. Because I never planned on killing him. But I survived. I learned. And I’ve never forgiven myself, either. I dream, plan, and do nothing.

So that’s why I’m here Monday, April 21, 2025, financially effed. I should have followed.

Who, Braxton? “Too Little Too Late,” as the Barenaked Ladies sing. We’ll get to that. Today, there’s Virgil. 984 days ago, he wasn’t here. Hell! Braxton was very much alive on Tuesday, October 20, 2020, when Virgil was born. Three months later, my Braxton passed.

How much did it cost for tests and trying to keep him alive? “It Doesn’t Matter.” But when was the last check I got over one hundred dollars? And now Virgil’s vet visit, security, and the fact we need to eat… I didn’t plan on seeing forty or on trying to be Virgil’s hero. SIGH

He needs a father. I need to be a man.

Please! I don’t know the first thing about being a man. I’ve got man parts. And what was I doing with that hardware before coming here and talking to you, E? Trying not to come.

Talk about blasphemy because I was the same way on Easter Sunday. Whether it was M Anime’s nightmare that I’m writing “Cries Come Women, Come Country.” There are thoughts of Cherry’s huge vanilla Yabbos. Then such and such posted Megumi and Ayami from “Ecchi na Onee-Chan ni Shiboraretai,” so I had to cut up their episodes. But this led me to two more sisters I was moaning about in the bathroom. Filming OnlyFans? Nope. “Don’t know why I didn’t come.” “Mama told me not to come.” Braxton Wasn’t Planned, Virgil.

1543 Days Without B III, Day 984 of Virgil’s Arrival

B.L.M. Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Meditation 295 ~No B In Sharing~

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Manners! Language! You talk too much! Should I say more about my furry kid? Four years gone. Or what about the walk with his little brother on a rainy morning? Money woes. Manuscripts that will never be published. Manhood. My Evils. “No B In Sharing”

Tuesday, April 22, 2025

Meditation 295 ~No B In Sharing~

Dear Future Wife,
You know that I love you, right? Enough to SHARE my life with you. Or give it. Oh, to be so noble.

Missing my Braxton, I could be a modern-day samurai. Committing Seppuku? No. That would only dishonor my firstborn son, you, my love, and our family. What? You didn’t think I only studied Japanese Adult Anime. Would you instead have me share more about B III?

Money has also become a concern. I was talking to my Ma the other day and wanted to share with her that I am afraid. A man provides for his family. Husband and father. “What Kind of Man Would I Be,” to admit that I’m afraid I can’t give you and our kids everything you want and need. But I wouldn’t be a good one. “What Makes a Good Man?”

Manuscripts full of bad ones. I was reading “My Writing.”

Yesterday, I kept getting the same response from “the critics.” I share far too much.

Truthful, yes, but too much. There’s “No Hope Left.” Apparently, I can’t say such things. I didn’t tell Braxton that as I watched him die. I don’t tell Virgil that when we walk every day. He needs to believe in a better world. A better me. What about myself, love?

Looking at myself in the mirror, I inevitably say, “I wish you would step back from that ledge, my friend.” But what’s the truth? I want to tell the worst things, my Dirty Little Secret.

Braxton was euthanized Sunday, January 31, 2021, because I failed him. I don’t know how to reach Virgil. And I wish I was never born.

Because I am afraid. “It feels like I’m dying. I’m so scared all the time.” So why not share my sins with you? The things I have never done. Is it effed up that I think about this, like sharing food with my boys? Braxton eating hot dogs, and Virgil has pizza bites. You love?

I get off on the idea of watching you with someone being “ravished.” Cuckoldry vs Netorare (NTR). There’s a book in the closet, “Ravishment: The Dark Side of Erotic Fantasy” by Desmond Ravenstone. I’ve been excited by nonfiction violation stories. Exhibitionism is something I’d explore with you. My Sadism. Fear brings out my depravity. I share this with you because telling myself, my boys, I’ve failed. No B In Sharing.

1542 Days Without B III, Day 983 of Virgil’s Arrival

B.L.M. Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Meditation 294 ~To B At Peace~

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Peace be unto you. Unto you be peace. I miss sitting with my son and watching a movie. The Book of Clarence? Braxton’s favorite girl, and I watched that. But can I still afford streaming memberships? Such despair at being broke. “To B At Peace.”

Monday, April 21, 2025

Meditation 294 ~To B At Peace~

Hey Dad,
It’s Me, Baby B… “Can you feel that? Ah, sh*t. Ooh, wah-ah-ah-ah!” I’ll leave the singing to you, my father. I still bark.

But not now. You used to say that my barking said more than most humans. And at least when I barked, I was helping you out. We agree that most humans make too much noise. There are exceptions to that. My favorite girl, the future stepmom I never met. Cherry.

And what about my little brother, Virgil? I wish you so many things, my father. Somehow, someway, someday, today, I want you to be at peace. I wish you peace. Peace be unto you, my father. I know I’m getting a bit preachy. A little biblical… Like father, like son. But neither of us would be found in a church. Yesterday was Easter. So, dinner…

You know me. Food always made me feel better. Until…

Um that’s not what I came to talk to you about now. My resting in peace and all. No dad.

How can I sleep when I can feel it all the way from here? The Rainbow Bridge? Elysium or whatever. That big bed in the middle of our sunny backyard with food on every side.

Your depression and the danger you wake up to when you head to that bad place. You said that’s how you got me those fried golden sticks. But now what you feel the most is DESPAIR. What’s one more human word? You would cuddle me and tell me so many.

But peace? Even if I don’t understand it, I have seen it, my father, last night as Virgil cuddled you.

And all those nights we would spend with my favorite girl watching the glowing box.

There were the days after you came from the bad place and fell asleep. And as you closed your eyes you’d watch me sitting at the corner of the bed. You’d come to no harm.

However, when it was your turn, I’d sleep on your heart as you read books. And there were all the times I would lay on my pillow at your feet, and you’d write your stories.

There were days you would breathe afterward as if the greatest task ever was done. Sometimes, you’d kick me out to do “whatever,” watching certain things. You’d be finished, clear. Always unto you be peace, Dad. To B At Peace

“Why don’t we have a word for the utterance between laughing and crying?”
Peter Heller, The Dog Stars

“Because your question searches for deep meaning,
I shall explain in simple words”
― Dante Alighieri, Inferno

1541 Days Without B III, Day 982 of Virgil’s Arrival

Always and Forever,
Your Son

Meditation 292 ~The B’s Hurt Virgil~

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Sitting in “my car” stuck in traffic, hoping I could get a $5 Meal Deal. Fear was riding shotgun. Grief was massaging my shoulders… Where Braxton once sat. And Rage asked, “Are we there yet?” Bereaved, Butt Hurt, but to be Brave? The B’s Hurt Virgil.

Saturday, April 19, 2025

Meditation 292 ~The B’s Hurt Virgil~

Hey, Lady Lu,
I am a Billionaire right now… Eff me! I wish that were a true story this very second. But life’s a bully.

Bereaved, it isn’t a b*tch. Amongst other things, such as the death of my son, Braxton. I think this is the first time I’ve shed a tear for him this week. Or is it the fact my eyes need the lubrication? I’ve taken Virgil for walks on the path behind the house four times, Lu.

It reminds me of good times, but the Rainbow Bridge it’s not. Lady Lunalesca, am I in such a hurry to see Braxton again? In a word… YES! As much as I fantasize about Cherry and her Mum, I beg to see M Anime’s Yabbos and start salivating over a specific model. I mentioned last week that she went private. It’s not good for her image. So, as RuPaul put it, “Supermodel, You Better Work.”

Butt hurt? Angry? Not at her, but at life in general. My God, Lady Lunalesca, this week was one for the books. Now, that’s something I’m angry about. Why the eff am I not writing books and editing. By this point, I should have had so many publications on shelves.

I could use the money. At this point, Lady Lunalesca, it’s what is scaring me the most these days: I’m broke… That, and the idea that I would wreck the car all for McDonald’s food.

“Calm down, Doctor! Now is not the time for fear. That comes later.”
— Bane (2012)

So what has brought on my fear and wrath? Honestly dear Lady Lunalesca, I could write a whole book on that. But if anything, everything that has to do with the Day Job. I can’t survive with or without it.

Be brave… Thou art courageous… Courage, man; the hurt cannot be much. Oh, my dear Lu. I am terrified by the end of the month or a few weeks into May. I won’t have anything.

I’m afraid that’s about as much positivity as you’ll get from me, my dear Lunalesca.

Wanting to take Ellie and Dina to bed. Revealing secrets. No! What scares me is failing to take care of my boys. And as much as I hate myself, I stay alive to look after them. I am the keeper of Braxton’s memory. And a provider for Virgil. And as I sat there yesterday afternoon with my Grief, Rage, and Fear, my bullies… And I imagined when the money runs out. The B’s Hurt Virgil

1539 Days Without B III, Day 980 of Virgil’s Arrival

B.L.M. Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Meditation 289 ~Braxton’s Shelved Elsewhere, Virgil~

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I’ll read and/or write anything today, as I’m not checking the mailbox. And I don’t want to read about dogs in distress… Uh, half my Kindle is Pet Loss books. Disregard females and acquire currency. Ah, writing. “Braxton’s Shelved Elsewhere, Virgil.”

Wednesday, April 16, 2025

Meditation 289 ~Braxton’s Shelved Elsewhere, Virgil~

Bless Me, Echo,
For I have sinned… Considering this conversation is on Tuesday, April 8, 2025, how do I know. I’m living three to five.

What are those sins? In no particular order, Braxton is dead; I have thoughts on big Yabbos, and like MAGA… And make no mistake, Inspector, I despise MAGA. Eff DJT! Anyway, like MAGA, I give into IGNORANCE and HATE. But what rivals my son? FEAR!

Is it a sin to live in fear? Yes! Because of FEAR, I’m not the man I should be, Inspector. Existing… Living in FEAR is disrespectful of my Braxton’s life. The little brave dog he was. And I’m not the Dad I must be for his brother Virgil. I swear what I’ve thought up, E.

I saw a message about a distressed dog, and I thought the neighbors were talking about my Virgil. But it’s much further up the street.

I hope… Yes, I hope. But what do I hope for the most today? Other than B III beating death.

I want to be… I am a writer. Wimp, womanizer, and worthless but writing Inspector. That’s what we’re going to talk about today. The books “Nightmare At The Meat Market,” “The Eve Of A Cherry,” and “Cries Come Women, Come Country.” These are not just titles; they are my struggles and my desires. My darkness, Inspector. As I said last week, you’re no librarian or editor, but the inspiration of Yabbos trumps my fears, Inspector… For now. But today, all I ask is for creativity, originality, and time. More sins.

“The Eve Of A Cherry” we talked about last week in Meditation 282 ~Virgil Has Tales, Braxton~. And it is about as original as talking about an English girl’s Yabbos can be. I discovered “Fake Driving Lessons” and “Fake Taxi” due to Cherry and her lovely mum. But… again, I began working on that story after so many years because of another muse of mine.

“Nightmare At The Meat Market” was all M Anime’s doing. Funny, both she and Cherry are writers. I know how to pick ’em, don’t I, Inspector? But Cherry shared dreams, and M Anime has nightmares… They just so happen to be the hottest things ever.

“Cries Come Women, Come Country” is M Anime’s recent nightmare. Or so that’s the title I chose. Long story short, a resistance soldier is captured and is used as a “comfort woman” for a general. But where are my son’s novels? Braxton’s Shelved Elsewhere, Virgil.

1536 Days Without B III, Day 977 of Virgil’s Arrival

B.L.M. Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Meditation 288 ~Love’s A B, Virgil~

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I’m sure I’ll turn to look at the love of my life in bed and then down at my feet and mutter, “Son of a B.” Not in an Eddie Murphy/Marcus Graham sort of way from Boomerang. It’s because B isn’t resting there. V’s trying his best. “Love’s A B, Virgil”

Tuesday, April 15, 2025

Meditation 288 ~Love’s A B, Virgil~

Dear Future Wife,
You know that I love you, right? Something you and Braxton have in common. The reason I’ve been playing the song “Jumper.”

“I wish you would step back from that ledge, my friend
You could cut ties with all the lies that you’ve been living in
And if you do not want to see me again
I would understand.”
Third Eye Blind

Must I always jump to memories of my firstborn son, Braxton, who died long ago, long ago, long ago. Four long years, and still, I linger on that first minute. I love it and him.

Only I’m quick to jump onto some mattress with you. Or anywhere, for that matter. Love and lust. Dare I say I might actually like not feeling so sad all the time? I’ll take love over war. As I’ll take Sadism over Masochism. Are those dirty words? If you have read what I have been typing lately in novels. Again, if I sound like anything from Jumper, then be worried.

But Virgil’s here, along with our other children, so you and I, my love, won’t be jumping or bouncing soon.

Son of a B! Am I mad, grieving, horny as the Devil himself. I’m confused and depraved, and even when I wake up, the first thing I think of is that I’ve had enough. Hence, Jumper playing. If only love…

You know what stops me? My son B, B III, Little B, Braxton. I was once… Dad of a B. However, to love like that again, there are no words because there aren’t any answers.

How many words are in the English language again? And I was working with a writer the other day on one of many stories; “The Eve of a Cherry,” “Nightmare At The Meat Market,” and “Cries Come Women, Come Country.” The third is an Erotic Horror War Thriller. And thinking of all the horrible things I put in that synopsis. Honestly, is that what love is to me? Is it making someone feel horrible? Like me 24/7. You’re still here.

“In my trials
And my tribulations
Through our doubts
And frustrations
In my violence
In my turbulence
Through my fear
And my confessions
In my anguish and my pain
Through my joy and my sorrow
In the promise of another tomorrow.”
Will You Be There

My Braxton is not here. But he loved me when I had no earthly or divine idea of how to love myself. And I could honor him by loving myself the way he loved me. The way he chose to love me when he should have been a furball locked away in my sister’s purse.

And that’s why I hear his voice, his bark now. The words “I love you” should mean something. But there are other words… Braxton says, “Don’t be afraid.” You tell me, “Whatever you want.” Virgil and the other kids call me “Daddy.” Myself? “Tomorrow’s gonna suck.” Love’s A B, Virgil

1535 Days Without B III, Day 976 of Virgil’s Arrival

B.L.M. Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Meditation 287 ~They’ll B Better Words~

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Love is a word used too often. But I believe love is the answer, too. Tell that to my sons. I wished B all the love in the world and…? V’s waiting. And with women, as Akon put it, “I wanna love/eff you,” But B’s talking today. They’ll B Better Words.

Monday, April 14, 2025

Meditation 287 ~They’ll B Better Words~

Hey Dad,
It’s Me, Baby B… Did I ever ask you if you had a good day as you asked me? Better not to ask.

Because even if I did… If I asked you what you were thinking of right now. Or how you feel about today and tomorrow. This whole week. But Thursday will be bad. It makes you shudder. You’ll burst into tears. You want to sleep away today. Like father, like son.

My little brother is getting a head start. But you won’t go cuddling into Virgil’s fur, blaming the tears on all that yellow stuff blowing in the wind. What did you call it? What does it matter? Humans have so many words. Even you, Daddy. Forty years, my father, and I am honored I got to share my fifteen with you. And you talked to me more than anyone with two legs. Good or bad

You had a voice, Daddy, and I miss it. Again, you talk to me every Thursday. But what would I like to hear? Could you just read to me, Dad? Could you sing “Watch it now, here he comes. He doesn’t look a thing like Jesus.” For I am far more than a prayer so many days ago when I would sit on the corner of the bed listening for the bad words, Dad. Humans.

I remember when you promised me that the bad words you were writing would make a better world for the two of us. Those words you would whisper to a future stepmom, who would understand.

My stepmom? Though I was happy being your son, listening to your breaths, heartbeats, beliefs…

That all you need is LOVE. What a word LOVE is my father. I listen, hear, and understand that one word more than anything. It’s my name. It’s Virgil’s, but you won’t say it yet…

It’s my aunt’s, my favorite girl. It’s parts of Cherry’s, uh… comfy spots… Yabbos. Dad!

“To my wife… that is not your business.”
― Gladiator

You’d say such things are none of my business. Like all the things you were telling M Anime last night. LOVE, like, LUST. Whatever. You feel alive. Daddy, you’re alive.

Existing isn’t the word, Daddy; it’s living. Say all the nasty, naughty, and nighttime words you want to M Anime or some woman that leads to you building a nursery…

However, above all this, tell yourself this, Daddy. I LOVE you. They’ll B Better Words

“Grief is just love with no place to go.”
― Jamie Anderson

There is no greater sorrow then to recall our times of joy in wretchedness.”
― Dante Alighieri, Inferno

1534 Days Without B III, Day 975 of Virgil’s Arrival

Always and Forever,
Your Son

Meditation 285 ~Hail Mary, Braxton, Virgil~

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Things I can say about my “girlfriend” but not my dog. “And I’ll tell myself I’m over you. ‘Cause I’m the king of wishful thinking.” Hell! No more yabbos and posing to dirty tunes. Hello, writing and depraved novelizations. Hail Mary, Braxton, Virgil

Saturday, April 12, 2025

Meditation 285 ~Hail Mary, Braxton, Virgil~

Hey, Lady Lu,
I am a Billionaire right now… Would it be evil if it were true? Evil prevails no matter what. But with money…

Braxton might have lived. I would be buried in Yabbos. And I would have all the time in the world to work on my book. M Anime’s book…? We’ll get to that. But you know, I’m just feeling so drained these days. Such is existing.

How is that? I’m only now getting up in more ways than one. Eww! But as usual, it was memories of my son and remembering when I was able to breathe. I’m still struggling with the loss, and it’s a daily battle. I’ve mentioned plenty that while “my” allergies are driving me crazy, there is one benefit. I don’t know if I’m crying over Braxton or if it’s all the pollen and the wacky weather. And speaking of the outside world, will I be able to cut the grass today? Braxton’s yard. Anything and everything for Braxton. Uh, Virgil’s here.

One more hi, yes, hello….

What about Good Morning, Virgil? I took him outside at sunrise. And I learned yesterday that the path where I walked Braxton has now been cleared, so it’s Virgil’s turn.

I need to get off my belly, though. It gets easier when the girl you’re simping for goes private. That explains pulls out list “Dark Shell,” XXX Pawn,” “Kuroinu ~Kedakaki Seijo wa Hakudaku ni Somaru~,” “Voyeur’s Digest,” “Maxine,” and the covers of “Satan’s Sorority Girls.” And I’m also reading Backyard Dungeon 15. When a pair of Yabbos is that important. Something to look forward to. Honestly, they didn’t break me.

Again, we’ll get to that. It’s one Hell of a morning. And the fact that I needed to wake up.

Next week’s going to suck.

So why don’t I get out of this bed and say good morning to the Dining Room Table, Lady Lunalesca? I have six minutes to debate that. It beats saying hello to people any day.

Speaking of beating… off. Thanks to M Anime, I’ve still been working on a couple of novels. I never knew she could be so kinky, or I’m a bad influence on her. Like I am on you, Lady Lunalesca, as I list off every passion project I can think of. But I have climbed out of bed on this Saturday. I could be the forty-year-old man watching cartoons in bed.

But instead, I’ll say hello or hail to you, Braxton, Virgil, and my novels. Being productive… Hail Mary, Braxton, Virgil.

1532 Days Without B III, Day 973 of Virgil’s Arrival

B.L.M. Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Meditation 282 ~Virgil Has Tales, Braxton~

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For once, I’m not crying, complaining, or considering I’m not the best father for my boys B and V. My sons are better men and good dogs. As for me? I claimed slothfulness earlier. And now I’m writing. Is that what I call it? Virgil Has Tales, Braxton

Wednesday, April 9, 2025

Meditation 282 ~Virgil Has Tales, Braxton~

Bless Me, Echo,
For I have sinned… And while you are my judge, jury, and executioner. What you are not is a librarian or editor.

You are an investigator, my Inspector Echo. And I am a writer. Laughs hysterically, Ha! Can’t I see what day it is? Wednesday, April 2, 2025? But as I told you earlier this morning, the Day Job called. And Braxton and Virgil wouldn’t care to hear about it. Or books…

The Eve of a Cherry is one of the books I want to talk about today. Why? Do you want to hear me grieve more about Braxton or say something unkind about little Virgil Vivi?

Thought so! But The Eve of a Cherry is criminality, wanting to be flattery. And I need a refresher, considering M Anime asked for it. Her nightmare inspired “Nightmare at the Meat Market.” Cherry inspired “The Eve of a Cherry.”

Cherry Roslyn Fae is a murderess, offing the lovers of a man, Cade Xavier Cosgrove. He runs to America, and Cherry’s mother, Anna Cecilia Fae, hoping to avoid the law, flees with Cherry to the States. Both Mum and daughter fall into the hands of Father Bridgeman and The Moondust organization and Bridgman’s pseudo-son, the Boy. Forced into several (adult situations) to cover their crimes, both Cherry and Anna attempt to avoid ending up dead and further deviance and depravity. Only in the end… Uh, The Eve of a Cherry.

Does that pique your interest, Inspector? I sent the whole thing to Cherry, and… crickets.

She’s talking to me again; this was years ago. But of course, I still have my Day Job. My writing…

And now, M Anime is becoming quite the writer herself. Remember Triond? But Inspector… Words!

“Nightmare At The Meat Market” stars Sofía Ana Acosta, a retail employee stalked by a man named Antonio Mateo Correa. In an effort to get away, she takes a night shift from her employer, which turns into working at a brothel. She’s an adult film star in illegal cinema. Cherry Fae Kensington is Mr. Thornfield’s personal assistant who owns Max-Mart (Names). She manipulates Sofía for the CEO with William Atlas Beckford. Though they all seek to escape, control, or destroy the organization. Antonio? Cuck, NTR? Nightmare At The Meat Market.

Do I feel ashamed writing such things? If it fed my boys. Tell them better stories. Virgil Has Tales, Braxton

1529 Days Without B III, Day 970 of Virgil’s Arrival

B.L.M. Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will