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...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
As the night slowly relinquished its hold on the world, the first hints of dawn began to paint the sky in hues of orange and pink, signaling the arrival of a new day. The darkness receded like a tide, making way for the gentle glow of the rising sun to cast its warm embrace upon the earth.
In the quiet moments before the world awakened, the landscape seemed to hold its breath, as if caught in the enchanting spell of the approaching dawn. The air was cool and crisp, carrying with it the faint scent of dew-kissed grass and blooming flowers.
As the sun crept higher, its golden rays stretched across the horizon, casting long shadows that danced like ethereal specters in the early morning light. The world seemed to come alive with color, as if awoken from a slumber by the gentle caress of the sun's rays.
Birds stirred from their nests, their melodic songs filling the air with a symphony of sound. The leaves rustled in the breeze, their emerald hues shimmering in the light of the rising sun. And somewhere in the distance, the faint murmur of life began to stir, a gentle hum of activity that heralded the start of a new day.
As the sun continued its ascent, painting the sky in ever more vibrant shades of orange and gold, the world seemed to awaken from its night-time reverie, embracing the promise of a fresh beginning with open arms.
And in that moment, as the sun bathed the world in its golden light, it seemed as though anything was possible—a new day, a new adventure, a new chapter waiting to be written in the grand tapestry of life.
In the early light of dawn, Pinocchio stirred from his makeshift bed, feeling the rough texture of the towel beneath him as he slowly blinked away the remnants of sleep. As he became more aware of his surroundings, he realized that his body was nestled among the scattered debris of the forest floor—dirt, leaves, and twigs cradling him in their makeshift embrace.
With a determined resolve, Pinocchio shifted his weight, pushing himself up from the towel that served as his meager mattress. He could feel the gritty texture of the forest floor against his wooden frame, a reminder of the harsh reality of his existence.
As he rose to his feet, a sense of discomfort washed over him—a feeling of unease at the thought of his delicate wooden exterior coming into contact with the roughness of the earth below. He knew that he needed to find a more suitable resting place, one that would offer him protection from the elements and a semblance of comfort in the wilderness.
With careful steps, Pinocchio navigated through the underbrush, his wooden limbs creaking softly with each movement. He scanned the forest floor, searching for a spot that was free from debris and offered a modicum of softness beneath his feet.
Finally, he spotted a patch of relatively clear ground bathed in the dappled sunlight filtering through the canopy above. With a sense of relief, Pinocchio made his way towards it, his movements slow and deliberate as he sought to avoid disturbing the fragile peace of the forest.
