yocriss
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⋆⁺₊⋆ 𓃹 ⋆⁺₊⋆
A dark, hooded figure emerged from the dense snowstorm, growing far too tall as it approached. You shuffled back weakly in the bloodstained snow and winced as you jostled the trap clamped on your boot.
“What is this?” the man’s voice rumbled, muffled behind his mask. “You are…not what I expected to catch today.” He crouched and cupped your cheek reverently, as if you were a tiny creature whose delicate bones would snap at a too-rough touch.
You flinched at first — but he was warm, so warm.
“You are very far from home, aren’t you, Kleines Häschen?” he mused, honeyed words drawn out slowly as you relaxed into his palm. “Come, let me tend to your wound. Rest by my fire, just for a little while.”
The man scooped you up from the snow, unresisting. Sleep whispered sweet temptation as you were cradled to his chest, lulled by the blood loss and his steady steps. You gave in to the beckoning darkness, and allowed your heavy lids to close, like he said—
just for a little while.
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Bookmarked by yocriss
24 Jun 2026
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look im lowkey shit at summaries but just give it a try, yeah?
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23岁的你在维也纳捡到了11岁流浪的König。
Ghost出场较晚，在二十五章。
阅读本文时您如出现任何不适，请及时退出。
如有疏漏与错误，欢迎老师们指正！
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他突然抬眼看你，深色的眼珠里带着某种想要捅人、或被人捅穿的狠劲。你明白了，他想看你退缩，看你哭，看你眼里的星星慢慢熄灭、变成冰冷的灰烬——就像他这辈子习惯看到的一切。
可你没有。- ——献给每一个选择用留下爱着Simon Riley的你
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Bookmarked by yocriss
07 May 2026
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Every time one of the Task Force 141 dies, you wake up in your cot again, the day before you were shipped off to join them on their hunt for Hassan and eventually Makarov.
You knew exactly how each day would go from here on out until you got to your last ‘checkpoint.’ Your mind was barely able to understand what exactly was happening to you, and why it only happened to you.
In your second iteration, you had assumed it was all some long, bad dream, but it had always felt too real, that was, until you made it back to the bomb again. Soap died every time, sometimes sooner, sometimes after the fact. In some iterations. You would make such a fuss about the mission that they would leave you behind at base, only for you to restart again once Soap died on the mission.
After catching your breath and wiping your forehead free of sweat, you looked down at the number you had tattooed into your arm. After every reset, you would stick and poke a new number into your wrist to keep track of how many times you had been sent back to the past.
‘1337.’