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Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 

Re-United - 4. Chapter 4

When my son’s heart beat its last, I glanced at the clock; it was 1:33 AM. My son’s heart had stopped beating exactly twenty-four hours after my father’s, our father’s, had stopped beating. I didn’t scream in anguish; I didn’t ask God why; I simply opened up my artery.

Scott had used his fingernail to open the tip of his thumb, and seconds after our son’s heart stopped, he had inserted it into the baby’s mouth. For a brief moment, nothing happened. No sucking, no searching; nothing. Then, his eyes opened, and he slowly fed. I set an alarm on my phone, wrapped my arms around my son and mate, and watched. An occasional tear dripped off my cheek and onto the baby’s forehead, then slowly rolled down his temple and down onto the bed.

When my alarm sounded, I went into the bathroom and retrieved the bottle Jenny and Scott had prepared with the mixture of blood and tea. When I came back to our bed, Scott pulled his thumb from the baby’s mouth, and I put the nipple in its place. Our son pursed his lips and pushed with his tongue, resisting the bitter taste of the new food. After a few futile attempts, he accepted it and began to suck. Scott took the bottle from my hand, and I sliced my thumb, then replaced the bottle with it.

When my alarm sounded again, we reversed the rotation and continued to feed our son. The alarm sounded five more times, meaning we had been feeding him for seven hours. Jenny said it should take three to six hours, and I was becoming concerned. Unlike when feeding on formula, he hadn’t peed or had a bowel movement since we started. We had just decided to summon Jenny or George if he didn’t show signs of changing soon when his eyes suddenly opened, and I saw the most amazing sight: the blood-red eyes of a vampire. Scott and I exchanged smiles, then embraced our son and smothered him in kisses. He chose that moment to empty his bladder. I didn’t care; he was alive.

After a quick shower, we dressed and put a new diaper and fresh onesie on our son, and, for the second time in twenty-four hours, he was the focus of attention as we walked into the dining room where George was just standing up from his breakfast. When he saw us entering in our formal Dracul suits, he tapped the side of his glass, and the room went silent.

In a firm, clear voice that echoed off the walls, George said, “Baron Fowler, Baron Consort Warnick, do you have news for us?”

We both bowed, and then I said, “My Prince, we do.”

“Enter and give us your news.”

We took three steps forward, and as Scott lifted our son high over our heads, I announced, “Prince George, fellow nobles, and all those gathered, I have the honor of presenting Charles David Fowler, our son.”

The room erupted in applause and as my eyes roamed the room, I was shocked to see Donna standing at James’ side. It took us an hour to work our way through the congratulatory handshakes and reach their side. Donna’s smile threatened to split her face as she took Charlie from Scott’s hands and cooed at him. After the crowd dispersed, we took James and Donna to our room. When we walked in, Jenny moved to take Charlie from Donna but politely backed off when Donna gave a slight shake of her head.

“Boys, come over, and I’ll show you how to mix his formula now that he’s one of us,” Donna said.

After watching a few minutes, Jenny quietly said, “Forgive me, Lady Warnick, but have you been around many infant changelings?”

Donna shook the bottle she had just mixed as she replied, “No, but babies are babies, right?”

“With all respect, My Lady, changeling babies need a richer mix the first few days. May I show you?”

Donna turned and paused, then handed the bottle to Jenny, who added more powdered formula. As she was shaking it, she grabbed two bottles and handed them to me. “If you’d give me four ounces each, My Lords?”

I opened my wrist and let the blood flow into a bottle while Scott did the same. When we handed the bottles back, Jenny handed the bottle with formula to Donna, then headed for the kitchen with our fresh blood.

Once Jenny was gone, Donna looked at us and said, “I hope she’s coming home with you guys; she’s a good one.”

When she returned, we introduced Jenny to James and Donna, then asked her to go over feeding schedules and requirements we needed to know. She taught us how to mix the formula, how Charlie needed fresh blood two out of three feedings, and explained that if we weren’t available to live feed him, Charlie could drink blood from a bottle, as long as it was less than twenty-four hours old. She then explained how he would shift to needing powdered cereal mixed in with his blood formula at around two months. When Donna asked, Jenny said that the only differences between born vampire infants and changelings like Charlie were in the first two weeks, when the formula needed to be a bit more formula-rich than Donna was used to.

Donna had just started feeding Charlie when there was a knock. I told Billy to come in, and he asked us if we had plans for the morning. When I asked why, he said George wanted some time, but there was no set schedule. Scott checked that Jenny had all she needed for six hours, and we told Billy to tell George we were free whenever he liked. When he left, we went to our dressing room and changed into jeans, polo shirts, and sneakers. We had just come out of our dressing room when Billy knocked.

Ten minutes later, Tommy and Leonard were driving Scott, Billy, and me to meet George. Tommy asked me not to ask him about our destination, and I chose to honor that, so we were blind. As we rode, I decided to deal with a minor issue.

“Billy, were you comfortable showering with us and with what happened?” I asked. He blushed, then nodded. “And were you uncomfortable with walking in on us?”

Billy looked from me to Scott, then asked, “What are you dancing around, Greg? Are you uncomfortable?”

“Not at all; I’m just trying to avoid making you uncomfortable,” I explained.

Exasperated, he said, “Well, all your evasion is making me uncomfortable. Say what you want to say.”

“I already said part of it, and I didn’t want to set you up for something you’re uncomfortable with, but, well, now this sounds silly.” I grinned and said, “I need you to stop knocking.”

“Huh?”

“I need you to stop knocking. Or, more to the point, I need you to stop waiting. Knock and enter unless you know I’m with someone above our rank. Can you do that?” I asked.

“I can do anything you ask of me, Greg. And yeah, I enjoyed watching, but I don’t want to come between you and Scott.”

Scott reached out and took Billy’s hand. “Baby, you could never come between us.”

“Yeah, but—”

“But nothing, Billy, I invited you to our bed. Scott and I have talked about it. I wouldn’t have said that otherwise.”

“But—”

“No,” I said. “Just listen... that first day, when you stood up to me in the meat locker, I felt something. Not what I feel for Scott, but I told Scott about it, and he says it’s common for nobles and their stewards to feel attraction. My beast feels it, too. We can ignore it or explore it. I told you, you’re welcome in our bed at any time, in any way.”

“Are you done?” Billy asked. I was confused, but I nodded. “Good, now it’s my turn. I would love to share a bed with the two of you, Greg, but you just made that offer yesterday, and you spent last night changing your son. I didn’t want to intrude on that and haven’t had a chance to talk to you about it. I don’t know if there’s something about the steward bond or if something in me has changed due to puberty or what. I do know that I love you, Greg. I just don’t know how to define it.”

I asked, “And what about—”

Billy interrupted, “I’ve loved Scott all my life, and yes, it’s changed lately. I don’t know how it’s changed, but I know I want to be close to both of you.”

I took Billy’s free hand in mine. “You can be as close as you want. I would say you can be as distant as you want, too, but in the last few days, I’ve realized that I need you. You stepped up and got me here, then handled all the details for my dad’s cremation.”

With a silly smirk, Billy said, “Just doing my job, My Lord.”

I didn’t get a chance to reply because at that moment, the vehicle stopped. We looked up and saw we were parked at a hangar at Burbank-Glendale Airport. Tommy and Leonard opened the doors, and we stepped out just as Frederick opened a door in the hangar and George stepped out. After greeting us, he led us inside and over to an airplane roughly twice the size of the one that brought us to California. The broad, swooping, red and black stripes began narrowly at the nose, expanded across the body, twisted, then widened, finally tapering as they extended towards the tail, creating a fading effect.

“Nice plane, George,” I commented as I admired the obviously new aircraft. “Are we going somewhere?”

“It’s not mine,” was his reply.

I turned back to the plane and looked again. On our flight here, Billy had engaged the flight steward in a conversation about the plane we were on. I had been lost in my thoughts over my father’s outcome but had heard most of what was said about the registration numbers, better known as tail numbers. Every noble of Dracul above baronet had at least one aircraft assigned to them, and the tail numbers were coded. Dracul had their own registry, and all Dracul aircraft started with ‘DR’ followed by the rank of the noble they were assigned to. I glanced at the tail number and saw DRB-NADA. I looked at George in shock and saw him nodding his head.

“But I’m unseated; I don’t need a plane,” I said, confused.

“Until recently, all our barons got a plane, Greg.”

Scott sounded confused when he asked, “What do you mean by ‘until recently?’”

“The Council has been debating this issue for ten years. The small craft we’ve used up ‘til now need to stop for fuel during trans-oceanic flights, and I’m sure you noticed how cramped the flight was. Enough barons complained, so we decided to increase the fleet. Over the next ten years, every baron will get a second plane.”

“Still, “I argued, “until I’m seated, I have no need for a plane of my own. Baron Evans let us use his this time; I’m sure he would again if I have the need.”

“Baron Evans didn’t have a choice. I instructed him to make his plane available, regardless of his feelings on the issue. Had he cooperated, you would have his old plane, and he would have his new ones,” George stated with more than a bit of anger in his voice.

Billy raised an eyebrow and asked, “Ones?”

George grinned. “Would you three shut up and let me do this my way?” We all held up our hands in surrender. “Now, put on your big boy clothes.” He turned and waved to Frederick, who led three men in uniforms I recognized from our flight from Pittsburgh. They stopped ten feet from us and, as a group, bowed.

Frederick said, “Your Highness, My Lords, may I present Captain Theodore Jennings, Lieutenant Michael Bancroft, and Flight Steward Ebenezer Clintsford.”

All three bowed and said, “Your Highness.”

George smiled and said, “Baron Fowler, these gentlemen are your flight crew. Of course, if you find them unacceptable, we will find others. Now, if you gentlemen will excuse me, I, unfortunately, have other commitments.”

George and Frederick made a quick exit, and our flight crew stood by at attention, waiting for us to determine the next move. Before I could speak, Billy said, “Gentlemen, I am Lord Steward William White, but when it’s just us, I prefer if you call me Billy. This,” he pointed at me, “is Baron Gregory Fowler and his mate, Baron Consort Scott Warnick; like me they, prefer to be addressed by their first names when possible.”

They didn’t move for several minutes, then the flight steward stepped forward and offered his hand. “I prefer Clint, regardless of who is around. Mickey and me have been together since before the Seven Years War, and Ted joined us after Kitty Hawk. If I may, I’d like to take Greg and Scott and show them the cabins while Billy talks to Ted a bit?”

I shook his hand and said, “I’d like Billy to stick with us, if you don’t mind, Clint. Ted can get whatever he needs afterward.”

“I just need to know where we’ll be parking them, My Lord, er, Greg,” Ted explained.

“We’ll have to figure that out together. For now, give us a tour?”

Clint started up the stairs as he spoke. “This is the first Gulfstream G-650ER delivered; they’ve not even been approved by the US yet, but as a Dracul registered craft, she’s exempt.” We entered and walked through the galley. “I’ll want to sit with you and go through your preferences so I can stock the blood, wine, and meals to your liking.”

Clint walked us through the cabin, giving us a quick tour of the layout of the plane. Immediately behind the galley were two small tables on either side of the central aisle, with two seats facing each of them. Beyond these was a couch on our left, the plane’s right, with two seats and a table opposite the couch. Next came another larger table on our right with two pairs of seats facing it and a credenza on our left. Finally, another couch on the left with a single seat and table on the right just before the door to the lavatory.

Clint demonstrated the operation of the lavatory, and as we worked our way back toward the front, he showed us the various small storage areas, charging ports, and video screens, as well as demonstrated how to convert the sofas into beds, recline, and swivel the seats, and covert the tables into sleeping areas.

When Clint finished, we all stood at the rear of the cockpit as Ted and Mickey told us the aircraft had a maximum range of 7000 nautical miles, or just over 8000 miles, with a cruising speed of Mach 0.85, or 650 mph. We would need 6300 feet to take off and land and had to choose our airports accordingly.

After answering our questions about the Gulfstream, Clint led us down the stairs and out to another, smaller plane. As we boarded, he said, “This is an Embraer Phenom 300. As you can see, it’s much smaller but can take off and land on a much shorter runway. There is only seating for seven, and unlike the larger craft, we can’t quite stand up in here.”

He was right. As I crouched in the entrance, I looked aft to see three seats on each side of the aisle with another single one opposite the stairs. At the rear of the plane was a very cramped lavatory. We stepped back outside for Ted to tell us that this plane had a range of 2300 miles at a speed of Mach 0.80, or 600 mph.

Billy got their contact information, and then we loaded into the Escalade and headed back to George’s. On arriving, our first stop was our room and our son. Jenny was feeding Charlie when we walked in. After taking him, I sat in the chair to rock him as I fed him. Billy and Scott sat on the loveseat, and we tried to plan.

“The funeral home promised they would deliver your dad’s ashes by ten tomorrow morning, Greg. I think we should head back so you can have the memorial service.”

Scott nodded, saying, “It hurts, but you need to move on, Greg. We need to figure out where we’re going live.”

I turned and stared at Scott, dumbfounded. With everything happening, I hadn’t even considered that I might not simply return to my old life. My old life was now gone; my dad was gone. Do I just go back to my old room and stay in school? Do I move across the street and live with James and Donna? Do I quit high school and move to the farm? I needed to consider the opinions of Scott and Billy, but I also needed guidance, a parent’s guidance. With my father dead, I turned to the next best thing; I turned to my new parents.

Charlie was still in my arms, wide awake and intently watching the world around him. After telling Jenny to pack her things for the trip home, I stood and headed to speak to James and Donna. On the way to their room, we ran into Jake and Chris. I decided I wanted their input and told them to join us. I grabbed a footman, asked him to bring drinks, handed Charlie to Donna, and sat down for our conversation.

“I could live in my old house,” I said. “I can take the main bedroom and put Charlie in my old room and Jenny in my current one.”

“And what about Tommy, Leonard, and me?” Billy asked.

“I thought you’d stay at the farm. And I don’t know what to do about them yet.”

Looking offended, he replied, “You invite me to share your bed, then expect me to live at the farm while you and Scott are three hours away?”

I reached out and took Billy’s hand in mine, saying, “We will figure a way to make this work. I didn’t mean to upset you; I’m just lost on how to make this all work.”

James suggested, “Your room is large enough for a bed and a crib, Greg. And other than when they’re in the mood to be amorous, I doubt Tommy and Leonard will need their bed at the same time. One will want to be always watching over you. For that matter, they could use Scott’s room at our house for sleeping and other things.”

Jake laughed, “You could just buy another house, Greg. It’s not like you can’t afford it.”

I shook my head. “I could, but I’d like to avoid that, Jake; I would only live in it for a year.”

“Then have one of Dad’s crews remodel your house; they’re your crews now, too. Get rid of the weights and put a bedroom downstairs.”

Scott raised an eyebrow and nodded. “That’s not a bad idea, babe.”

I sighed and considered this. Tommy told me I needed to work out to keep the body I had worked hard all my life to build. I also needed to provide housing for those who were sworn to keep me and my family safe. ‘Must keep our body strong,’ my beast said to me. ‘No,’ I firmly replied. ‘We must keep our friends safe.’

“Jake, call your dad. Ask him to go to my house and come up with a plan. I want a bedroom in the basement and have them redo the bathroom while they’re at it,” I said, my decision made.

“I’ll take care of it all, Greg. I’ll have Dad and Josh go today, and I’ll get with them as soon as we’re home,” Jake offered.

“Alright, Jake, you handle it. Do whatever you need, within reason. I suppose we’ll be selling that house once I’m out of high school, so don’t waste too much money.” I hesitated, then added, “And see if Josh or Brian can drive my baby up to the farm. We’ll need the space in the garage for the Denali.”

Chris seemed to have a thought but was hesitant to speak until I pushed him. “You won’t need your dad’s old car, Greg. I think you should sell it. Then you can use that half of the garage for your weights.”

It only took a second for Scott to agree. “He’s right, babe. The fact is you won’t be driving yourself again for a long time.” Seeing my reaction, he added, “I’m sorry, Greg; I know you love that car.”

I gave a weak smile and a slight shrug. “I love the car because I love the man I got it from, hon. I’ll miss driving it, but I’ll own it forever.” Then I had a thought and said with a smirk, “At least our garage of the cars we’ve owned won’t have to be as large as James has, right?”

Scott grinned, then nodded. “Right. Jake, please help Chris do as he suggested.”

Billy bit his lip for a moment, then suggested, “Why not have Chris and Jake fly to West Virginia in the small plane and get started on this? Whoever drives the Riviera up to the farm can get Charlie’s car from the airport and take it back down.”

I looked at Chris and Jake, who both nodded. “Ok, Billy. Call Ted and arrange it. When you speak to him, tell him to leave the jet there and fly back commercial and find out when he can be ready to take us back to Pittsburgh.” I looked around to see if anyone had anything else. Hearing nothing, I stood and took my son from Donna. I was amazed to find him still awake and looking around, already lifting his head.

Billy made his call, then headed out to find Tommy to arrange for a car while Chris and Jake went to pack. Scott and I went to our room, where I opened my thumb and fed our son. Jenny knocked and waited; after telling her to come in, I made it clear she was free to come and go as she felt she needed to care for Charlie. She told us her things were packed except for a small bag to see her through a few days, then asked where she should have her father ship the others. I promised to have an answer for her soon, then handed my son over as Scott and I headed for lunch.

With George away, I was informed I was the ranking vampire at lunch, and as such, I was to sit at the head of the table. I was relieved to see only familiar faces joining me. Scott sat on my right with James and Donna beside him, while Billy sat on my left, joined by Chris and Jake. Over the meal, Billy informed me that Chris and Jake would be leaving within the hour. Chris said his father had filed Dad’s will with the courts, and I was free to do whatever I wanted with his physical assets, so my plan to sell the car was approved. Mike and Josh were on their way to my house and would discuss options with Jake when he arrived; then, Jake would take his brother and my car to the farm. Josh would collect Dad’s car from the airport and bring it to the farm, where the twins would await instructions.

Jake asked, “Are you going to do the cast idea, Greg?”

When James and Donna looked at me, confused, I explained the plan we had come up with at the farm. James thought it wasn’t a bad idea, but he did list several issues we needed to address. The first is the time frame involved. A simple broken leg would only require a cast for six or seven weeks; I needed something longer. The second issue was the question of what supposedly happened to my leg. We lived in a small town, and if someone dug deep enough, they would discover the lack of records at the local hospital. As James listed these, and other small issues, Donna seemed lost in thought.

“What if…” Donna paused to gather her thoughts. “What if you were with your dad in his accident?”

I looked at her, confused, and said, “Go on.”

“Well, the accident was so bad that he died, so if you were with him, you would have severe injuries, right?” I nodded slowly as I began to see her idea. “So, you return from California with a leg and an arm in a cast. The arm can heal before school, but the leg might require several operations, and you’d be in a cast much longer.”

I liked the idea until Chris said, “You would miss school for the supposed operations and then have to heal a bit before returning. We humans don’t heal from an operation overnight.”

I sighed as I saw myself having to withdraw from school. Maybe Scott and I could just go to Boston and start Harvard now. If it was just the two of us, I wouldn’t mind that, but I wanted our friends with us and all of us withdrawing a year early would cause too many rumors. When I explained my concerns, Jake’s eyes lit up.

“That’s it!” He exclaimed. We all stared at him until he explained, “Rumors.”

I slowly nodded and asked, “What about them, Jake? Speak in full sentences, please.”

After the obligatory eye roll, he explained. “Your dad stumbled on evidence that would have jailed some mobsters. Before he could report it, they staged the accident that killed him. Now, your life is in danger, so you need security.”

“But he didn’t,” I said.

Everyone groaned, and Scott said, “No, babe, he didn’t, but if we can start that rumor…”

Feeling stupid, I began to nod, then asked, “But wouldn’t I go into witness protection?”

“No, because he never got to report it, and all his documentation was destroyed in the crash when his laptop burned up,” Chris explained.

“And how do I explain my not wrestling?” I asked as I considered the rumor idea.

Billy giggled as he said, “I’ll break your arm in September. You’ll go to the local hospital, get the cast, and deal with it. The cast comes off six weeks later, but the injury is too recent for you to wrestle.”

With an eyebrow raised, I asked, “And how long will it actually take to heal?”

James thought for a moment, then explained, “You’d have to break it just outside of the emergency room or the wound will look a week old by the time they get you to x-ray. You’ll heal in a day or two.”

I shook my head and said, “When the doctor here told me my father was dead, I fainted and broke my wrist in the fall. Get me someone to make a cast before we leave. I’m sure George can find a doctor to say my wrist is too fragile to wrestle.”

Billy whined, “Aw, I wanted to break your arm.”

Copyright © 2023 Justin4Fun; All Rights Reserved.
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If you'd like to buy me a cup of coffee, a donut, or a bottle of blood, visit Justin's Ranch
Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 
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Chapter Comments



Sorry if I'm harsh, but I think I'm being kind, considering you just said that my father in law, brother, and I are "not normal".

 

Wow, ok. Clearly differences and criticism are beyond you. I will stop reading this and move on. 😶

Edited by DragonFire
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That just makes me ponder how recent of a thing it is culturally for an average person to be buried instead of cremation. Go back only a couple thousand years, and it was only rulers and other influential people that were buried, all the common people were burned up. Burial is. For such a new thing, it's honestly amazing to see how many people think cremation and funeral pyres are such a "horrible and disrespectful" thing. 

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On 12/16/2023 at 2:15 AM, DragonFire said:

Sorry if I'm harsh, but I think I'm being kind, considering you just said that my father in law, brother, and I are "not normal".

 

Wow, ok. Clearly differences and criticism are beyond you. I will stop reading this and move on. 😶

What Justin described in the story is indeed unusual. I had to google that cremation before service is a thing. Rare, but more folks are doing it apparently. No judgement, each to their own.

That said, you've each jumped down each others throats and both of you are wrong. DF you've assumed the norm is in play, it isn't. and Justin you have assumed that everyone knows of this practice. They don't.

Both of you get over it and enjoy the story.

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21 minutes ago, Sir Galahad said:

What Justin described in the story is indeed unusual. I had to google that cremation before service is a thing. Rare, but more folks are doing it apparently. No judgement, each to their own.

That said, you've each jumped down each others throats and both of you are wrong. DF you've assumed the norm is in play, it isn't. and Justin you have assumed that everyone knows of this practice. They don't.

Both of you get over it and enjoy the story.

Now I feel like I've been spanked by my Grandma. 😜

But I agree, some thought has to be put into any criticism and judgement on here. But that goes both ways.

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9 minutes ago, Justin4Fun said:

@Sir Galahad   My issue had nothing to do with the assumption that everyone knew of this. 

Maybe I'm just too thin-skinned to be an author, but when comments seem directed at me rather than my writing, it throws me off my writing. I haven't written a word since this exchange.

 

I already told you it wasn't directed at you. You took offence at something I found unusual, and I apologised for. A simple clarification would have cleared things up very quickly.

Get your muse back dude, you have a great story here.

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22 minutes ago, DragonFire said:

I already told you it wasn't directed at you. You took offence at something I found unusual, and I apologised for. A simple clarification would have cleared things up very quickly.

Get your muse back dude, you have a great story here.

Sorry, I didn't mean to imply your comment was directed at me. I was trying to say that I take things wrong much too often.

Like I said, you and I are good. As to getting my muse back, it will come; it just takes time. 

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1 minute ago, Justin4Fun said:

Sorry, I didn't mean to imply your comment was directed at me. I was trying to say that I take things wrong much too often.

Like I said, you and I are good. As to getting my muse back, it will come; it just takes time. 

Do I have to spank you to get it back, my right hand is mean. 😄

spank GIF

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