I just really enjoy the game and want the fandom to grow
-Requests are closed!-
And here are some reasons to convince you to read this book!
-These oneshots are gender neutral
-And even though the reader is in them there is no use of Y/n
-I try to...
: ̗̀➛ This chapter contains no spoilers so enjoy :)
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As a Stalker navigating the streets of Krat, your boots made rhythmic contact with the sidewalk, each step resonating with purpose. The city, draped in the aftermath of rain, showcased its enigmatic charm as the puddles created by the downpour yielded to the pressure of your movement, sending delicate splashes in all directions.
The sound of your boots against the wet sidewalk echoed through the atmospheric city, where mysteries and puppetry adventures intertwined. Krat, shrouded in a mix of shadows and reflections, became a canvas for the Stalker's journey—a journey that unfolded in the wake of raindrops and the subtle symphony of footsteps.
The puddles, mirroring the city's secrets, rippled with each step you took. The rain-soaked streets, gleaming under the city lights, bore witness to the silent dance of a Stalker threading through the labyrinth of mysteries that defined Krat. The sound of water meeting pavement blended with the ambient sounds, creating a soothing backdrop to the enigmatic atmosphere.
As your boots continued their journey, Krat's essence, a fusion of puppetry and intrigue, embraced the Stalker's presence. The city's tales, whispered through rain-soaked alleys and hidden corners, awaited discovery. Each step against the wet sidewalk became a deliberate note in the ongoing narrative—a narrative that unfolded in the dance between shadows, reflections, and the rhythmic cadence of a Stalker's exploration through the enigmatic streets of Krat.
With your weapon casually slung over your shoulder, the wind gently rustling against your animal mask, you hummed a small tune to yourself as you strolled along the desolate streets of Krat. The once lively shops, now abandoned and forlorn, stood as silent witnesses to the city's mysteries and the aftermath of puppetry chaos.
As you walked past the small, neglected storefronts, your gaze swept over the remnants of what once might have been thriving establishments. A faint hope lingered in the air, the hope of finding someone salvageable amid the discarded remnants of puppetry life. However, your efforts yielded frustration as you realized that everything of value had been either taken or broken.
In the solitude of the abandoned shops, the echo of your huff of annoyance reverberated. The wind carried a melancholic tone, a lament for the lost remnants of a once vibrant puppetry existence. The small tune you hummed, a solitary melody in the quietude, echoed the bittersweet symphony of Krat's past and present.
Your weapon over your shoulder, the wind playing with your mask, and the abandoned shops standing as silent witnesses—the tableau painted a somber picture of a city grappling with the aftermath of chaos. The small frustrations and the echoes of a tune harmonized with the enigmatic atmosphere, marking your journey as a Stalker in search of meaning amidst the remnants of puppetry existence within the elusive tapestry of Krat.
With seasoned expertise, you navigated the rain-soaked streets of Krat as a skilled Stalker. Each step echoed a mastery honed by years of experience, your senses finely attuned to the subtlest disturbances in the puppetry-laden atmosphere. The rhythmic cadence of your boots on the wet pavement became a symphony of precision and purpose.
