saltedherring

[saltedherring]

When I get home, I'll make a couple of memes about Rimworld.

If I don't forget

Or get too tired

[saltedherring]

I h a v e a

c a n o n i c a l u l t r a k i l l

[saltedherring]

No idk who is it

But it was very very fun

And I already thought that the artblock had already killed me...

[saltedherring]

Idk why I draw this haha

Yes, he's holding a shot glass

Poor Gabriel

Yes im ultrakill fan

But im suck in game lol

He was fun to draw

[saltedherring]

I was standing in front of the very threshold of the house where I spent my childhood.

A lot has changed since that time.

The garden where my brothers and I used to pick fruit and play silly games has completely wilted. It was depressing.

I am no longer the innocent boy who ran away from home and fished at night in the nearby forest, sharing his joy with other equally innocent boys.

My older brother left first... He was taken away then, early in the morning. No one from the family saw him anymore. I know why. But I'll take this secret with me. And I hope that our Lord has blessed his young soul with peace. I'm praying for that.

Then there was a sister a little older than me. They didn't even come into the house, just picked her up while she went to the market, because I asked her to buy apples. I remember blaming myself for a long time for taking her away. Although now I have long understood that they would have come to us anyway.

After training, she lost herself during one of the missions. This is just a mild representation of what happened... Now, when I come to check on her, she doesn't recognize me. She doesn't recognize anyone. She doesn't remember anything, and she acts like a child. It breaks the ice in my heart every time. But I keep coming, just to see the smile on her face when I bring her some little gift and tell her that I'm just her imaginary friend...

...

I sighed. My hand, hovering above the surface of the door, trembled, but I pulled myself together and knocked.

...

To see her, to hear her words... It was hard, very hard. And it hurts. But I listened, feeling like I did when she scolded me for getting my clothes wet because of a failed walk on the ice. I stood in the doorway, looking at the floor.

— "They took my children... my son... my... and they returned this... this... oh god..."

— "Mother..."

— "No, no.... you can't be my son... my little... little Gregory... go... you..."

...

With each passing moment, my chest tightened more and more, and breathing became more difficult. Her tears... her suffering... her words... all of this caused the most intense pain. At some point, I wanted to run away from this pain. Leave and not come back. But I couldn't. I had no right.

I took off my helmet with a click and a distinctive hiss and threw it away, taking a breath of air while my disfigured face was revealed to the world.

She could barely stand on her feet, looking at me in sadness and horror. But I took her in my arms and together we slid to the floor, kneeling down. I longingly buried my face in her graying hair, inhaling her unchanged scent of flowers and tea, while wet paths began to form on my cheeks.

– "...no... The Lord has given you back your son... Your Gregory... mom..."

OKAY. English is not my native language, keep that in mind!! And these inventions of mine have nothing to do with any of the worlds or any existing religion, despite the similar symbols and so on! I wrote it right out of my head and I haven't had any practice for a long time. I'm sorry. Peace.