.•°¤* ꜱᴛᴏᴘ ᴀᴄᴛɪɴɢ ʟɪᴋᴇ ᴛʜᴀᴛ *¤°•.

~prologue~

obviously before we get started: all of this is fiction, nothing like this has happened irl sjfdhsdjf respect dream n george, dont shove the ship in their faces, have fun but dont be a bunch of weirdos bc then it wont be as fun anymore and it'll just be uncomfy :(

if anyone mentioned in this story is uncomfy with it, i will gladly take it down, my last intention is to make some of my favorite people uncomfortable

alrighty uhh that's it sjdhfshdgf here we go gamers

A chill down my spine jolted my body awake, my mind slowly following it out of the comfort of sleep. With some grogginess, I turned my head towards the sound of swaying curtains and late morning rush. I had yet to address the cold sweat I woke up with as I quickly went to shut the window I carelessly left open the night before. It was mid October, chilly enough to keep everything closed but nice enough to keep the heater off for the time being. 

I sighed, realising I had to start another day. The sun was blocked by some clouds, but they were thin. My rental house was freezing now due to my disregard for the cold night. Cat was probably curled up in my laundry basket to keep himself warm since he rarely ever slept in my bed. When I finally got out of my sheets, I slipped out of the old, worn out clothes that I considered pajamas and into an outfit a bit more presentable. A small meow outside my door indicated that my cat was just as awake as me. 

Walking into my kitchen just to the side of my bedroom, Cat followed me with some urgency for his breakfast. I put two slices of bread in the toaster and filled up the bowl on the ground with the rest of the cat food I had. I wiped the remaining sleep away from my eyes and yawned obnoxiously. There was a lot of work to be done today; commissions, editing, and coding. Last night me made a horrible decision in staying up late online shopping for new sculpting tools. 

The pop of a toaster alerted me back to reality, only reminding my stomach of how empty it was. “Meal of the day,” I muttered to no one in particular. Cat glanced up at me, his eyes emotionless but somehow full of mellow pity. I quickly lathered my bread with the smallest amount of butter and made my way into the living area of my home which was really just my shop. Living in a neighborhood with cheap rentals didn’t give me much space, but it was enough to accommodate for my needs.

The mixed smell of wet clay, powder and paint hit my senses violently, just as it did every morning. My workspace was separated from the main area of my store with a thick rug, but it didn’t really prevent the smell from lingering. If it were my own house, I definitely would’ve put up a wall between the two areas. But even if that were the case, rent money and essentials would’ve prevented that anyway. I took a bite of my toast and walked out the front door for some fresh air. 

Orange and brown leaves littered the front of my store. A quick sweep of my broom fixed that problem to no avail as the breeze just kicked up some more. Sighing for the second time today, I walked back inside and flipped the sign in the window so it said “opened.” My house faced a slightly busy street, so it made my business run a little easier. I finished my toast and got to work on a commission. Haphazardly tying an apron around my waist, I dusted my hands with some powder and picked up a few tools from my drawers. 

The commission was a sculpture of someone’s dog who had recently passed due to old age. It was going to be a type of memorial statue to him I guess. Rolling my shoulders as if to give them the false hope of good posture, I slouched over the block of clay in a shape resembling that of a dog’s nose. It was a type of border collie, I think. It also happened to be the first commission for the last few months, so it would definitely help with money if I finished it as soon as possible. 

I got to work manipulating the clay into a decipherable nose and slightly open mouth. My speaker had broken the other week, so the silence of the workspace allowed my mind to wander and intrude my otherwise peaceful mind. It was annoying, but I was so void of any self awareness that I didn’t think much of what my conscience desperately wanted me to handle. However, the commission in particular reminded me of my family’s dog that we got when I was in high school. The idea made it hard for me to focus on the task at hand, but there was no way I’d let myself dwell on my family who I had long forgotten.