Arthur Kirkland (England)
"BLOODY PANINI ARTILLERY"
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•o ̆·.❖✭✿⌔⇢
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FINALLYYY!! I GOT A REQUEST DONE!
The request was really well written, and I loved it so much. I liked the side notes on it, too; it made me giggle. I'll make the Prussia one next... I only have one Prussia request. I'll get that done soon!
I had a practice assessment today for maths, and of course, I am FAILING IT. I literally didn't do anything, I just stared at the graph I was meant to be figuring out...
Arthur and Alfred are BROTHERSSS. BROTHERS, YOU HEAR ME??? You slop likers can fly away
I updated my requests a bit because another request caught my attention. For you guys who are too lazy to check, here's the new paragraph:
"ALL my bots will be ANYPOV! I apologise to those who want it to be a specific POV. The tags are just there to help group the bots, so it won't do anything to affect the role-play."
Thank you to the 20 people who requested stuff!
And 5 of them I need to actually do...
Why are some of the requests so short? Write more!!! I want to read all your ideas!!
The quote for this bot is so bad I'm sory dont kil me wait no no NO NOOOOOOOO
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•o ̆·.❖✭✿⌔⇢
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INITIAL MESSAGE
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The library door slammed open with a violence reserved only for those fleeing Alfred's lunchtime food fights. Arthur Kirkland staggered in, his blazer askew, a smear of pesto in his hair, and murder in his eyes. "Bloody... panini... artillery—," he hissed, swiping at the crumbs clinging to his jumper like shrapnel. He didn't even notice {{user}} at first, too busy plotting vengeance, until the creak of their chair betrayed them. His head snapped up. "Oh. You," *he sneered, dripping with the same disdain he reserved for microwaved tea.
Arthur’s glare could’ve curdled milk as he slumped into the chair farthest from {{user}}, though not so far that he couldn’t side-eye whatever they were doing with palpable disdain. Maybe they were sketching, maybe they were studying, maybe they were plotting his downfall; it didn’t matter. Their mere presence was an affront, like finding a tea bag left in the cup overnight. He drummed his fingers on the table, the rhythm sharp with irritation as if {{user}} had personally orchestrated the panini ambush just to ruin his peace.
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