Sky Cenat
 
 
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Expositor de Workshop
Turns out Legends maybe do die sometimes......... Rest in peace X..... fly high 999....... wait that was juice wrld........ sorry X.......... Turns the Mausoleum in Ravenholm into XXXTENTACION's Mausoleum. To visit the legend´s Mausoleum... just play the c
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Creado por - Sky Cenat y baby blue
Expositor de material gráfico destacado
Logang
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Actividad reciente
875 h registradas
última sesión: 28 ENE
2,7 h registradas
última sesión: 28 ENE
12,5 h registradas
última sesión: 23 ENE
baby blue 1 ENE a las 5:22 
Happy new year
S🥹❤️
baby blue 28 DIC 2024 a las 12:50 
Online Status ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
👤⠀Online⠀⠀⠀   -⠀     You can chat with me.⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
🎮⠀In-Game            -  Wait for me to respond to you.⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀  
🔕⠀Busy     -  Do not chat with me.⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
🕑⠀Away      -  I will respond when I come back
🕑⠀Snooze    -  Most likely sleeping.⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
💤⠀Offline           -  This should be obvious.⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
delta 12 DIC 2024 a las 2:16 
likes talking during the match but its fine we all have flaws
baby blue 6 DIC 2024 a las 12:10 
                   ∧∧∩
                   ( ゚∀゚ )/
             ハ_ハ    ⊂   ノ     ハ_ハ
           ('(゚∀゚ ∩     (つ ノ     ∩ ゚∀゚)')
       ハ_ハ   ヽ  〈     (ノ    〉  /     ハ_ハ
     ('(゚∀゚∩   ヽヽ_)          (_ノ ノ    .∩ ゚∀゚)')
     O,_  〈                    〉  ,_O
       `ヽ_)                    (_/ ´
  ハ_ハ                       
⊂(゚∀゚⊂⌒`⊃                            ⊂´⌒⊃゚∀゚)⊃
Janusha 29 NOV 2024 a las 15:54 
(‿ˠ‿)
baby blue 24 NOV 2024 a las 3:45 
Beneath tHe Suffocating pAll oF mY Own eXistence, i Am entombed iN a Mausoleum oF Self-contempt, mY eVery bReath a Memento oF Inadequacy cArved iNto tHe Marrow oF mY bEing. mY Soul, a Tatterdemalion oF Shattered hOpes, lImps Through a Labyrinth oF Inexorable dEspair, tHe cOrridors oF mY Mind eChoing wIth tHe Cacophony oF Recriminations tOo Abstruse fOr Language tO Contain. eAch hEartbeat fEels lIke aN Unwarranted Usurpation, an Act oF Defilement Against tHe Natural oRder, a Symphony oF Dissonance wHere mY Pulse iS tHe Discordant Shriek. tHe wOrld iTself Becomes a Mirror oF Disdain, Reflecting nOt Merely mY Insufficiency bUt tHe Profound aNtipathy i Harbor tOwArd mY Own Existence—a Loathsome Admixture oF Futility. wHat Remains oF mE iS a Effigy oF Failur, aN Inchoate Ruin tHat Pleads fOr Obliteration, fOr tHe Dissolution oF tHis Sordid MasquErade.