Gay Geiger Counter

Fuck you Artemy, you had it good for too long. No pillow now because what are you gonna do about it?. Fold your mattress instead to have a resemblance of a faux sense of protection under your most vital organ during the long hours of death rehearsal that you call sleep.

Somehow, they made the bed even more unstable looking. As if that thin panel in the middle could hold Artemy's weight without caving in. Oh, and apparently, I ran out of boxes to use for furniture because the bed and the table have to share custody of the same box.

We have downgraded into barrels now, as you can see :) No, I don't know what they used to contain inside.

Waking up every day to Sticky's snotty face telling me not to spit in the wind and nagging me about cleaning up the week-old human organs thrown around that are stinking up the place.

THERE IS MOLD GROWING ON MY WALLS. RUST FLAKES FALL FROM THE EXPOSED METAL PIPES DOWN INTO MY CEREAL EACH BREAKFAST.

This single wall holds so much mold and fungus that they started crossbreeding and evolved into new, never seen before types of bacteria. Satan's asscrack is more hygienic than whatever biohazard plagues of Egypt this slab of concrete contains.

I live in the gutters. My only neighbours are an illegal gang of minors with a hatred for furries and another illegal gang but of adults this time who sell me bullets way above the market price. A dangerous neighbourhood where you can't have shit because SOMEONE STOLE MY BULL.

The basement I reside in has no windows, the smell is pungent and fucking vile down here. There isn't even a space for a bathroom.

This is my kitchenette/bathroomette/showerette/cupboardette/surgery tools disinfection stationette/sinkette/watercoolerette/toilette/fridge.

also my buckets yk.

One bucket for the makeshift bathroom, another for holding important organs and loose guts during surgery, a third one as a cooking pot for making tasty meat grub soup and the final one for murky water after sweeping the floor.

What do I use to tell them apart? Oh nothing :) I just mix em up every now and then, oppsie daisy.

Oh and the floors are CONSTANTLY wet for some reason. Yeah sticky slipped and almost broke his neck the other day so watch your steps.

There is also this eerie room with literal garbage and broken furniture right next to the entrance. Don't worry about it, sometimes I hear someone crying and screaming for help when I'm trying to go to sleep but it's just the factory being silly lol.

Now this? This is where the M A G I C happens. This is where Artemy the Menkhu makes his famous herbal remedies and natural mixtures. This is where the Panacea for the infamous sand plague gets made!

In a rusty empty food can.

Falling into a bucket with shit stains.

MEDICINE BABBYYY. GET YOUR WEAK SOFT BONED ASS BACK TO THE CAPITAL BITCH, THIS IS HOW REAL MEN MAKE REAALLL MEDICINE!! RAWRRRRR🦅🦅💥💥

Meanwhile, dickovsky has the view of the cathedral and polyhedron just around the corner from where he resides. He has a backyard with a lake, and all I have is a swamp behind my basement. I trudge through the mud each night, collecting weeds and herbs to mix and trade so I and the two orphans who adopted themselves into my life don't go starving.

Not to mention the gaggles of herb brides loitering outside and giving me a false bad reputation.

That dandy douchbag has a pharmacy, a grocery, and a tailor right next door. The closest establishment to my shrekcore place of resident is a dingy basement bar with shady drinks and no bouncer to check for ID, I saw two kids in there once.

Pov: a qt3.14 surgeon says his dad isn't home and invites you over.

It's especially infuriating how people act like the two of you are still married. Staying willfully ignorance anytime you try to correct them when they refer to him as your husband and ask for his whereabouts. When the kin treats you still as the menkhu's spouse, marriage is sacred, and a simple signed paper can't erease the love and bread you shared together, or so they claim.

How Artemy does nothing to quell these talks, if anything they fuel his conviction that you're just in a mood and you'll definitely come back. A glisten in his eyes as he still tells you about Sticky and Murky's days, emphasising how much the kids miss you and are asking about you, so how about you come back home... at least just for dinner? He'll cook the meat and you can cut the vegetables, he misses the taste of food coming from your hands.

You wouldn't want to disappoint the kids, would you? It's just one night, is it really so horrible to spend time with him again?

Ex-husband Artemy who subconsciously reaches for you whenever you're close by. Touching you has just become second nature to him. Placing his hand on your thigh while sitting together, holding you by the hips when standing behind you, his big hand guiding you by the small of your back when on a walk.

Who still slips sometimes and goes back to these old habits, even as he becomes aware, he waits for you to point it out before pulling his hand back.

He is trying... a little. He keeps his arms crossed against his chest or still by his side just to suppress his urge to pick you up in a bear hug like he got used to doing each day he came back home.

If you start frequenting the broken heart pub in an attempt to signle how you're single now to other people, it doesn't take more than a day for your ex-husband to start showing up around the same time. One of the herb brides having told him about you no doubts.

He doesn't try to be polite or mask why he's here. Artemy's clearly pissed and distraught that you'd rather spend your nights at some basement bar rather than your own family back at the safety of the home he provides.

Fine, have it your way. He's not arguing with you. He will just stay here and wait it out. Sitting directly on the stool by your side with an angry glare, his sheer size alone intimidating all those who think of approaching you.

Who in their right mind would mess with the ripper's spouse? And they know he isn't above starting a fight if someone is stupid enough to hit on you in front of him.

Yes, yes, you are single and free to flirt with however you want.

Just like how his fists are free to break the jaw of anyone who replies back.

Do you really think he is above it? Do you think his shotgun is just for show? No matter what, he will fight to have his family back, which includes you now, ever since the day you married him. obligation and love will always drive him.

For Boddho's sake, he gave you a house, two kids and and a place amongst the kin. He provides for you and puts food on the table. He helps with chores and runs errands. What more do you want?

Date nights? Personal time? For him to give you a kiss without being drenched in the smell of post-surgery blood?

He'd sigh, shaking his head. These are shallow things in his eyes. He's plenty affectionate! at least he thinks so. Romantic words didn't come easily to Artemy, he can offer wisdom and advice only a menkhu is capable of but he doesn't know how to write a valentine's card to save his life.

Ex-husband Artemy who doesn't want to be this way. After a drink or two, his legs take him to your new home.

Knocking on the door with a sheepish look. Expecting you to slam the door in his face but pleasantly surprised when you invite him inside.

Even if it was a merey courtesy polite invitation since he knocked in the middle of the night. His heart interprets it as a clear sign of you wanting him back, too. A clear declaration of love, of missing him.

Caging you with his arms against the wall, burying his face at the top of your head, pressing his body intimately close against yours until you can feel the drum of his heartbeat.

Ex-husband Artemy, who starts whispering in your ear how much he desperately wants you back in his life.

Please, what did he ever do wrong? He doesn't understand. He thought you were happy with him.

He'll fix it, he will stich it back together he promises. So please take his hand and come back home? The bed is cold without you, the house is quieter and he can't stop staring at the empty chair at the breakfast table.