Penalt

I know I don't blog much, or write much pony fic. I am the way I am.

Some updates...

My previous muse has been all but ejected from my life. I asked a friend "how do I fix a broken heart when it's turned to sand?"

Her reply? "Don't worry about it, it's in my shop."

That was the day I got claimed by my new domina, but it would be a few weeks before it percolated through her head and through mine as well. Small changes to my avi on Second life - a clockwork doll hinges and key, tattoos that match theirs. Access to my collar on SL. And then, a week later, the announcement. My domina has been working hard to get deep into all the wounds that have made my heart as fragile as spun glass. Her name's Spitfire, if you must know, and not because she loves the show, but because of the British Spitfire plane or something. She has many kinks and fetishes, and wants to help me in more than just holding my hand. She is working on a plan to help me through some deep scars I have.

If you think I'm talking metaphorically, you're not quite right. I nearly had a heart attack too. After falling in January, "broken hearted syndrome" was the last thing I need. Yes, that's how badly my previous muse hurt me.

For the last... I don't remember how many months, Penalt and I, and the entire complex we live in, have been having to deal with renovations. The landlords got a grant and are upgrading every building. Now, this would be fine, except, instead of upgrading one set of residences at once, they decided to attack _every_ place to speed things along.

Now, normally, I wouldn't give a crap about a minor inconveniece like that, except that it's been over two weeks since they put in the new door and it's neither secure nor finished. The windows have been taken out and are being held onto by screws, but if there's a storm, they will fly out. I had a major allergy attack when I was DJing on Monday, while they were cutting the big bayish window we have in our "front." We haven't had use of our backyard in months cause they decided the drains needed to be repaired, and now they're waiting for X part or Y thing to finish them. There's blood caution tape across our sliding glass doors, for pity's sake.

In order to move furniture around so that they could come in and do the windows, we had to empty out dressers and closets and more. We had shit pilled up chin high on me on our couch cause we had no place else to put it, and my desk was moved into the middle of the room. My zen - GONE. My desk has to be in front of a window, not the middle of the room. That's where I'm in my happy gaming/writing/drawing place. My. Desk. That I've had for 30 years... And with workmen stomping around and nearly taking out my computer's power supply and net... They come in at 7:30 am without even knocking and get to work. I was naked one of the days they came in!

So, can you see how annoyed I was that they gave us a backdated notice to enter and I wrote a snark about how they are NOT entering today because we needed a day without them IN OUR PLACE?

So what does the landlord do? Reads us the riot act. Threatening us with eviction, charges for taking too long, accuses us of having a messy place (well, DUH) and more. Did I mention that our shower broke and it took them THREE WEEKS to fix? Or how our hammy got out and got into the walls and found her way out. How the HELL did she get INTO the walls? No matter.

So, Penalt had a minor... no... major melt down in his own way. His patron is closed. His this is done. His that is done. He's stressing out.

He has every right to be stressed out. But when he starts talking about doing stupid, wifey gets out the chain of command. You know that chain - the one I'm gonna whip him with if he does anything stupid. Yes, you better believe I will.

So, he left Damage's discord channel. And that freaked everyone out. I popped up and everyone there was wondering what was going on. So I spilled. What's in the blog post above is nowhere near what I have spilled there. I had to get stresses out too cause I was having chest pains again.

Yah, you're right. Not good at all. Worse, cause I'm biofem, the doctors aren't going to take my heart attack symptoms seriously until I pass out. Then it might be too late. Oh look, another nosebleed. Fine! Calm down time....

Anyway... the outpour of support... I just want to bawl. Penalt is working on every single message he got, trying to read, and hopefully reply to them all. I'm trying to support him, both in loving him, and in the standard "don't you fucking do it!" threats. Not the first time I've had to talk him down. Won't be the last either. He's talked me down from stupid a few times too.

I'd like to thank Damaged, Canary, Belle, and everyone else who rose to say "we give a damn about you, Penalt! Come back!" It means a lot to him.

It means a whole lot more to me.