Sky Cenat
 
 
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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
66 ratings
Created by - Sky Cenat and Michel Bollinger
Featured Artwork Showcase
Logang
5 2 1
Recent Activity
62 hrs on record
last played on 20 Mar
156 hrs on record
last played on 17 Mar
16.7 hrs on record
last played on 17 Mar
Michel Bollinger 1 Jan @ 5:22am 
Happy new year
S🥹❤️
Michel Bollinger 28 Dec, 2024 @ 12:50pm 
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 Dec, 2024 @ 2:16am 
likes talking during the match but its fine we all have flaws
Michel Bollinger 6 Dec, 2024 @ 12:10pm 
                   ∧∧∩
                   ( ゚∀゚ )/
             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 @ 3:54pm 
(‿ˠ‿)
Michel Bollinger 24 Nov, 2024 @ 3:45am 
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.