~𝕋𝕙𝕖 𝕨𝕣𝕚𝕥𝕖𝕣~ | 𝔻𝕣𝕖𝕒𝕞𝕨𝕒𝕤𝕥𝕒𝕜𝕖𝕟 [HIATUS]

1: Pigtail girl

⚠️Mentions of stalking

Hi. If you don't know who I am, then you should probably go check out the other book that was published before mine. The way the author wrote me, it was conveyed so that I wasn't much of an important character. I was written like a side-character OC!

(A/N: Jeremy I'm sorry! but the book was based around Danni and Quackity!)

Yeah yeah, I get that. I guess I can forgive you now that you gave me my own book. Just look at this place! So spacious...so empty....damn you need to write more.

(A/N: Okay okay okay! Just stop breaking the fourth wall and get back on track please!)

No Problem! Alright stand back, and watch my story unfold....

Ahem...Author?

(A/N: right sorry my mistake)

Jeremy POV:

"I really need to clean my place more often." I say to myself as I pull myself off of the ground. I was in such a rush to get to school that I didn't even see the trash bags in front of the kitchen. Like when did I even put them there? Of course I had to trip on them when I'm already late as fuck to the University.

It's 7:59 and my class is at 8:00. My first class's professor was a real stickler for time management and tardiness. I can not handle another lecture from her about "strengthening my beliefs by being early." Well sorry Ma'am but I have 6 other classes to manage as well.

Well, I didn't need to travel far. I'm across the street anyways. I brush off any dust from my clothes, the open, green, plaid button up as untouched as well as my jeans and sneakers. Thank god, I can't be seen with dirt on my clothes.

I take my bag and phone and rush out the door. I quickly lock it and rush down the stairs, I don't have time to wait for the elevator. I go outside the building and run across the street. If I get hit at least I can get my debts paid off.

I watch as the other students walk calmly to their respective buildings, compared to me running to the building farthest from my apartment. I open the doors and run down the hallways to the lecture room. I open the lecture hall door, panting from all the running I did.

"Ah, Mr. Atherton. So nice of you to finally join us." The professor said, while pointing to the clock.

"You're 2 minutes late young man, this will not be excused in the real world."

Sometimes, I think back to the time where we had college kids tell us that the professors are laid-back and more chill on assignments and time.

Fucking liars.

I take a seat in the back, apologizing to her for being late. I open my notebook to take notes on a very, very long lecture about comma placement.

~

"In order to write the character, you need to be the character. You need to know their mannerisms and how they would act in certain situations. Put yourself in their metaphorical shoes before you write out a scene." The professor says.

I listen as I write frantically, trying to get important details. I sigh in relief when I hear the bell ring, indicating that my final class was over. Unlike the others, character building was a class that I enjoyed. I love creating people from scratch and putting them in different scenarios where I bend their conscience to my will.

Author please do not put me through shit in the future chapters okay?

(A/N: Stop it. Get back to the story.)