Open RP
My three girlfriends.
And yes, they smoke weed.
do they smoke weed?
Yes, actually.
you mean she isnt just smoking a cigarette? but a weed cigarette?
Itβs called a buntβ¦. Not weed cigaretteβ¦ And yes, it is a weed bunt. They all smoke weed bunts before we kiss. (They are my girlfriends,)
They don't look like they smoke weed.
Fuck You.
Fuck You.
Fuck You.
Fuck You.
Fuck You.
Fuck You.
Fuck You.
Fuck You.
Fuck You.
Fuck You.
Fuck You.
Fuck You.
Iβm so angry you are so lucky my three weed smorking girlfriends are rubbing my shoulders to calm me down Iβm so mad.
YourΒ βweed smoking girlfriendβ has a Hello Kitty tattoo on her belly. The one in the middle.
I printed out a photo of your avatar and taped it to my punching bag that I punch and I mutter your URL with every strong punch I punch you twerpβ¦. Donβt ever Talk about Geralt or the wicked Tat(tattoo) I drew on her ever again I Donβt wanna see you standing outside my home at 3 am holding your weird dripping brown bags ever again ok leave us alone this is the FINAL FUCKING WARNINGΒ
Well that escalated quicklyβ¦β¦
What, was that? Hmm? Come again. *Geralt grabs my shoulder* Come on Dandelion, they arenβt worth it, please. * I jerk my shoulder shaking her hand off* NO! NOOOOO!!! *starts to just pummel you with my big fucking fists. With each blow I let out a furious yell. The blows come quicker and harder and the yells get louder. Iβm yelling so loud and now Iβm crying. BREAKING POINT. The week was hard and I canβt take anymore. Iβm opening sobbing at this point while you blood gurgle. All three of my girlfriends struggle to pull me off and they finally succeed and lead me away from the goo pile that is now your body*
haha oh my gods
who even is this dude? someone needs some anger management classes.
love how he keeps reminding us that βI HAVE THREE GIRLFRIENDSβ, βTHEY ALL KISS MEβ, and βTHEY SMOKE WEED HURRP DURRβ.
and letβs not forget the βGeraltβ and her βwicked tatβ, or that he doesnβt βwanna see you standing outside [his] home at 3 am holding your weird dripping brown bags ever againβ, and that this is βthe FINAL FUCKING WARNINGβ.
βthe goo pile that is now your bodyβ
iβm dying over here, melitele
please, Dandelion, come challenge me to a bout of internet witticsisms; i promise, itβll be fun.
*shoots you dead* Heh, idiot⦠*leaves with my three weed smorking girlfriends to go hold hands and kiss.*
this dude playin omg
Come again? *The bar falls silent. No one dares to make a sound, as you have just said a very poor choice of words at a very dangerous time. I remain slumped over the bar, not looking back to you. One hand limply holding an almost empty bottle, the other hand cradling my head. I repeat the question, this time louder.* Come again?! *You can hear me slur the words, the sentence sounds like a real struggle for me to get out. Iβm clearly intoxicated. A bead of sweat rolls down your face as you realize you might have just fucked up in a very major way. Everyone else in the bar is pretending to not notice what is going on. The bartender idly washes a mug with a cloth. His eyes are closed and heβs muttering something to himself. A handful of people hurriedly leave. One person looks back at you, a look of sorrow on their face. They almost say something, but shake their head and cast their eyes down to the floor, and leave. But not you. You stand, petrified. A quick look at me reveals Iβm still Β at the bar. You look to the exit, thereβs still time. But thereβs not, thereβs not, thereβs not. Your fate was sealed the moment you opened your mouth.* Mother fuck.. what did you say?! *I slowly rise from my stool and being to lumber over to you. Β I look a mess. My hair is unkempt, I havenβt shaved in what looks like months, there are dark heavy bags under my eyes, my shirt is stained and has holes in it, and Iβm missing a shoe. But the main thing you notice is the gun tucked into my jeans, and my massive muscle arms that look like they were made for punching. You know that song about the boots that were made for walking? Yeah, itβs like that only instead of boots itβs my muscles and instead of walking itβs punching. As I drunkenly sway over to you, you think of your familyβ¦ Will they mourn you, or will they try and forget this blotch of stupidity, that their child insultedΒ theΒ Dandelion publicly, ever happened to their family? Your thoughts are cut short as I now stand face to face with you. I grab your face and pull you even closer.* Playin?! There was nothing playingβ¦ no playing you fuck. No playingβ¦ it was real.. the realest thing Iβve ever know.. feltβ¦ Love. I loved themβ¦ Geraltβ¦. Lambertβ¦ Eskelβ¦ I loved all three of emβ¦ but theyβ¦*My face is wet with tears and Iβm blinking constantly in vain to hold them back.* They left meβ¦ leftβ¦ *Almost instantly the sadness leaves my face and is replaced with pure anger.* Playin? Playin**?!**Β *My hand leaves your face and starts to head to what you think is the gun. You close your eyes and see God looking at you, shrugging.Β βPft, you brought this upon yourself dude.β He says as he waves his hands at you dismissively. But instead of the gun, my hands grab yours. Your eyes jolt open and the anger is gone from my face. There is only sadness.* Left meβ¦ * I fall to the floor and sob.* Wow, grow up. *You say before you leave the bar but are hit almost immediately from a charging horse and are killed upon impact.*
