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...
ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ This chapter contains slight spoilers for Carlo's character and the Real Boy ending otherwise enjoy :)
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Amidst the hallowed halls of Hotel Krat, an air of restlessness pervaded the atmosphere, mirroring the anxious cadence of your footsteps as you paced the main lobby. The silence, punctuated only by the echoes of your movements, resonated with an unspoken concern that gripped your heart—an uncertainty born from the absence of Pinocchio.
Time seemed to stretch, elongating each passing moment into an eternity, as the anticipation of his return weighed heavily on your thoughts. Pinocchio, the beacon of hope in this desolate refuge, had ventured beyond the familiar confines of the hotel, becoming a stalwart explorer in the unpredictable realms outside. The corridors of your mind echoed with the haunting question: Why hadn't he returned yet?
The lobby, adorned with remnants of a bygone era, bore witness to your restless pacing—a visual testament to the internal tumult brewing within. The mechanical sounds of gears and the soft hum of the hotel's ambient energy provided a dissonant backdrop to the emotional symphony playing out in the theater of your mind.
In your eyes, Pinocchio embodied more than just a puppet; he represented a lifeline, a source of inspiration, and a symbol of unwavering hope in the face of the unknown. His animated presence had woven a narrative of resilience and connection within the tapestry of Hotel Krat, and the absence of his reassuring figure left a void that seemed to expand with each passing moment.
As you continued to pace, the shadows in the lobby became metaphors for the anxieties that flickered through your thoughts. Every creak of the wooden floor beneath your feet resonated with the silent plea for Pinocchio's return, a plea that echoed in the silent chambers of the hotel. The vintage chandeliers overhead, with their dim glow, cast a muted radiance on the scene—an ethereal glow that served as a reminder of the shared history and the uncertainty that now gripped the present.
In the midst of this palpable tension, the lobby transformed into a stage where emotions played out their nuanced roles. Your connection with Pinocchio had become a lifeline, and as you paced with bated breath, the passage of time became a fickle companion—one that held the key to the resolution of this agonizing suspense and the potential restoration of hope in the once-still corridors of Hotel Krat.
As you anxiously tapped your foot, your eyes fixated on the old, antique clock that adorned the lobby—a relic of time that appeared to defy the conventional laws of accuracy. Its hands, seemingly frozen in a perpetual dance of stagnation, betrayed the inherent disarray that lingered in the heart of Hotel Krat. The world outside, governed by the ticking hands of functioning clocks, seemed to lose its relevance within the puppet frenzy that had enveloped the refuge.
In the midst of this temporal paradox, where the antique timepiece stubbornly clung to a time long past, the significance of minutes and hours blurred into a surreal dance. The puppet frenzy, an unpredictable force that animated the otherwise inanimate, had thrown the conventional notions of time into disarray. The ticking of the old clock became a mere echo, drowned out by the erratic rhythms of puppet existence.
