Requiem for a Broken Dream.

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Soapy
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Requiem for a Broken Dream.

Post by Soapy » 20 Sep 2024, 14:15

The JZA wrote:
20 Sep 2024, 11:31
Kyrie catching Kam alone

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buddy want round 2? (resume)
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The JZA
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Requiem for a Broken Dream.

Post by The JZA » 20 Sep 2024, 14:26

Soapy wrote:
20 Sep 2024, 14:15
buddy want round 2? (resume)
Kyrie out here fumbling on sight, while Kam giving his girl the game ball, man really got nothing to lose at this point

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Soapy
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Requiem for a Broken Dream.

Post by Soapy » 20 Sep 2024, 16:05

The JZA wrote:
20 Sep 2024, 14:26
Soapy wrote:
20 Sep 2024, 14:15
buddy want round 2? (resume)
Kyrie out here fumbling on sight, while Kam giving his girl the game ball, man really got nothing to lose at this point
be careful what you wish for smh

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Soapy
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Requiem for a Broken Dream.

Post by Soapy » 20 Sep 2024, 16:05

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Season 6, Episode 20
Kam took a deep breath, trying to calm the butterflies in his stomach. On the surface, they were two nowhere teams playing in a nowhere game that those outside of their bubble gave two shits about. But inside that bubble, it was the biggest thing in the world.

He stretched his arms overhead, feeling the familiar pull in his shoulders. As he lowered them, his eyes scanned the field, taking in the scene. That's when he spotted Jamal on the other side of the 50-yard line. He’d cross that line last year, leading to a bit of tiff that gave him the added edge he needed. But there was just a simple nod of acknowledgment as they locked eyes. Kam's jaw tightened as he returned the gesture. No words needed to be said; they both knew what was at stake tonight.

Kam jogged over to where Kyrie was stretching, his cleats digging into the damp grass. He could hear the low murmur of the crowd filing into the stands, punctuated by occasional shouts and laughter.

"Hey, Ky," Kam called out, his voice carrying a forced cheerfulness. "I’m only going to need about a half to put these niggas away.”

Kyrie didn't look up, focused intently on touching his toes, his eyes fixed on some distant point beyond the field.

"I’m telling you," Kam tried again, clapping his hands together. "You might play the whole second half, young bull.”

Still nothing. Kyrie straightened up and started jogging in place, his movements mechanical and detached. Kam could practically feel the waves of tension rolling off him. He glanced over at Coach Boulware, who was watching them with a furrowed brow.

Kam lowered his voice, leaning in closer. "I’m just saying, I’m going to soften them bitches up and you knock them down, you feel me?”

For a moment, Kyrie's eyes flickered towards him before turning away, grabbing his water bottle and taking a long drink. The silence stretched between them, filled only by the sound of cleats on grass and the distant thud of practice kicks.



Kam didn’t wait for Kyrie to seal his block, running his shoulder into Jamal as they both pushed him into the ground. He managed to pick up a modest gain on the carry but more importantly, quickly established bragging rights.

“Yeah nigga,” Kam looked for Jamal amidst the pile of bodies that were picking themselves up against the turf, “It looked different in person!”

“Watch out,” Jamal pushed him away, ”It’s a long fucking game, bitch!”



“Third and goal from the two-yard line, Kam Seidu-Harris gets the handoff, looks for a crease and he’s going to be stopped short!”

“That’s one of those plays where you may want to see some more physicality from Seidu-Harris at 230-pounds plus, maybe even jump into the endzone with his basketball background.”



“Kick the fucking ball, bitch ass nigga!” Stanquan yelled at Kam as Kam jogged off the field, his head still ringing from the collision.

“It’s a fucking yard,” Kam told the coaches on the sideline, “What are we doing?”

“We need points,” Coach Boulware reminded him, “If you want to score a fucking touchdown, get in the fucking endzone when we give it to you!”



Kam turned his head, fully expecting the ball to be on its way towards his helmet only to see it on the ground near his feet. He looked up towards the replay on the jumbo screen as the offense came off the field once more without points.

“We have to tighten the fuck up!” Kam yelled to no one in particular, “We got to wake the fuck up! They’re not even good.”



Their eyes met from across the field, a smirk forming on Kam’s face. Jamal had noticed and was now creeping forward, ready to explode out of his stance. The ball was snapped and Jamal sprinted forward, only to be engulfed by the right guard who completely pinned him down to the turf. Kam turned up field, sprinting into the area that Jamal had vacated with his aggressiveness. He braced for contact as the play-side corner and backside safety converged on Kam, bouncing off both of them as he racked up more yards.

“Y’all boys soft as fuck!” Kam yelled as he held the ball out to signal first down, “That’s a motherfucking first down, bitch ass nigga!”

He looked towards the sidelines, waving Kyrie off as his legs still felt good. Kyrie still kept jogging towards the huddle to Kam’s frustration, only to realize that the personal called for three running backs.

“My fault,” Kam told Kyrie, who once again ignored him, “Keep me rolling, Cole.”

Cole relayed to the play to the huddle, delighting Kam with the selection as they broke out into formation, Kam lined up behind Cole with Kyrie and their fullback in front of him. He got the handoff and even though Marlon completely won his block at the point of attack, he could feel a cutback lane opening up on the backside. He reversed course, switching the ball to his other hand as he sprinted to the second level, amazed at how much open space there was. Kam’s eyes widened once Jalen, the other guard, pancaked the edge setting corner, completely freeing up the sideline.

..

“They’re not going to catch him, touchdown!”



“Seidu-Harris gets to the edge again and that’s a first down for Kentucky!”



“Pennington completes the pass to Seidu-Harris who gets thirteen yards on that play, first down for the Wildcats as they look to score before the half.”



Kam tapped his helmet as he started his walk to the sideline, trying to catch his breath with another touchdown on the horizon. He barely had time to take his helmet off before he could hear the stadium erupting, turning around just in time to see T.J. with the ball, having intercepted Cole’s pass.

“Fuck,” Kam muttered to himself.



He could feel the game slipping away. Despite his hot start, eclipsing the century mark in the first half, they only held a touchdown lead deep into the third quarter. It was the type of game they had managed to lose all season. The play caller sent in a screen pass to Kam, trying to find a spark for the lifeless offense. Kam had no faith that the ball would even get to him as he went out for his pass.

It did, albeit needing a bit of an adjustment from Kam as Cole threw it behind him. The blocks formed a lane for Kam on the outside, which he took before colliding with the cornerback that was coming down full speed, ready to lay the hammer on Kam.

He ended up being the nail, falling flat on the ground as Kam raised his forearm right into his helmet, knocking him to the ground. Jamal was nearby, aided by Kam losing his balance and was able to tackle him out of bounds.

“Boom stick, bitch!” Kam yelled as he struggled to get to his feet, feeling the effects of the collision himself, “Get your ass up, boy! Get you ass up! I ain’t done with you!”

Jamal pushed Kam away from his teammate as he helped him up, “Get the fuck out of here, 3!”



Kam lowered his shoulder as the T.J. wrangled him to the crowd, both of them quickly turning their head to the sidelines to find the first down marker. The official signed for the chains to move as they got to their feet, facing each other facemask to facemask.

“I’m here, now!” T.J. yelled into his face.

“It’s a fucking first down,” Kam told him, “Learn football, bitch.”



The defense lined up in a similar front as the play that Kam scored the touchdown on with a similar play being called for the offense as well. Kam flexed his fingers in his glove as he got into his stance, ready for the snap. He received the handoff but the safety came screaming down this time, firing right into the gap that Kam was planning on cutting into. The safety wrapped him up and drove his legs, keeping him in check until Stanquan came over to help finish Kam off with a hit.

“You ain’t going nowhere, fuck ass, green ass, fuck nigga!” Stanquan told Kam who slammed the ball into his palm in frustration as the offense came off the field once more after another failed third down attempt.



Kam was getting ready to ease up, trying to avoid colliding with someone on the sideline when Jamal came crashing in, pushing Kam out of bounds. The flags flew and so did hid temper as a mob began forming around Kam as he picked himself up from Louisville’s sideline, surrounded by a sea of red.

“That’s some weak ass shit!” Kam told Jamal once he pushed his way out of the mob.

“I got it, white!” the official reminded him, “Get in your fucking huddle!”

“I got something for your bitch ass!” Kam screamed at Jamal as he retreated to his huddle.



“Stop running, hoe!” Jamal yelled in celebration, clashing facemasks with Kam following his tackle on Kam near the line of scrimmage.

“You’re a whole bitch,” Kam laughed, unable to think of a better comeback.



Kam could see the cutback lane but on third down with the team just needing a field goal to make it a seven point game, he kept running forward, breaking through the defensive tackle’s arm tackle attempt before two defenders brought him down beyond the first down market.

“They can’t fucking hold me!” he screamed into the heavens.



Kam was exhausted. He had carried the ball thirty-two times, each one more ardent than the previous one as Louisville’s defense had hunkered down. It didn’t help that he was running off at the mouth in between every play, whether they gained a yard or not.

He’d need a few more carries though as he lined up behind Cole, still nursing the same seven point lead with now just a minute left in the game and a chance to ice it with a first down. The Cardinals loaded up the box with everyone in the stadium knowing who was getting the ball and they were right.

It didn’t matter as Marlon won his block convincingly upfront, opening a lane which Kam cut back into, lowering his shoulder into the safety as he got the first down.

“Send your best hitter, I’m sending that nigga back in a body bag, fuck nigga!” Kam screamed to the defense.





Image Image
UK (4-8, 2-6) | 3 | 7 | 0 | 3 | 13
UL (5-7, 4-4) | 0 | 3 | 0 | 3 | 6

UK QB Cole Pennington: 14-20, 197 yds, INT, sacked twice
UK HB Kamaldeen Seidu-Harris: 33 att, 195 yds, TD, 3 rec, 34 yds
UK HB Kyrie Patterson: 1 att, 1 yd, 2 rec, 34 yds
UL QB Pierce Clarkson: 12-19, 162 yds, INT, sacked once
UL LB T.J. Capers: 9 tkl, 2 TFL, INT, 2 PBU
UL LB Jamal Thompson: 6 tkl

Season Stats 309 att, 1558 yds, 7 TD, fumble, 57 rec, 576 yds, 4 TD
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Agent
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Requiem for a Broken Dream.

Post by Agent » 20 Sep 2024, 16:12

Battle of who’s more buns in KY
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The JZA
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Requiem for a Broken Dream.

Post by The JZA » 20 Sep 2024, 16:26

Agent wrote:
20 Sep 2024, 16:12
Battle of who’s more buns in KY
Agent, Clearly Ashley is taking home MVP honors :curtain:

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Soapy
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Requiem for a Broken Dream.

Post by Soapy » 20 Sep 2024, 20:03

The JZA wrote:
20 Sep 2024, 16:26
Agent wrote:
20 Sep 2024, 16:12
Battle of who’s more buns in KY
Agent, Clearly Ashley is taking home MVP honors :curtain:
:kghah:

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Soapy
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Requiem for a Broken Dream.

Post by Soapy » 20 Sep 2024, 20:04

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Season Finale: Season 6, Episode 21
The clinking of silverware against plates gradually quieted as the group finished their meals. Kam leaned back in his chair, his stomach comfortably full, and surveyed the scene around him. The private dining room glowed with warm light from ornate sconces on the walls, casting a soft ambiance over the gathered family and friends.

Kam's father, Kwame, had his arm draped casually over the back of Taylour’s, his eyes crinkling with joy as he watched their toddler — Manu — messily devour a slice of cake. Jamal was at one corner of the table, surrounded by both of his parents, his girlfriend’s absence the topic of conversation for much of the early portion of dinner, which Kam enjoyed.

Yassy was there too, not that she was noticeable, barely uttering a word throughout the entire ordeal.

At the head of the table, Mark raised his glass, the crystal catching the light. "I know this was a long year," he announced, drawing a chuckle from the room. "To Kam and Jamal, two of the most promising young athletes I've had the pleasure of working with. Your dedication this season has been nothing short of inspirational."

Kam felt a surge of pride, tinged with a hint of melancholy. The season had been grueling but now he couldn’t believe that it was over.

As Mark continued his speech, Kam's gaze drifted to his father. The pride was evident on his face, causing Kam to wonder what his mother would have felt like in moments like these, what they would have said.

Manu let out a sudden giggle, breaking the moment of solemnity. Laughter rippled around the table, the bittersweet mood lifting. Kam's stepmother-to-be reached over to wipe the child's face, her gentle movements a reminder of what he had lost.

As dessert plates were cleared away and coffee was served, conversation flowed freely. Jamal's parents were animated as they recounted stories from the season's games, having waited three long years to finally get to see Jamal play meaningful snaps. The evening eventually drifted into the night, the long day weighing on the older attendees as they yearned for their hotel beds as the group began to scatter, leaving Jamal to play third wheel to Kam and Yassy.

“She wanted to stay in,” he once again explained his girlfriend’s absence, “She don’t really understand with black folks, that’s like a death sentence right there.”

“Might as well break up with her tomorrow,” Kam joked, looking towards Yassy who only forced a smile, “What you getting into? We about to hit the city, if you’re down. I mean, you might need to endure some shit talk but I can vouch for you now.”

“Yeah, right,” Jamal sucked his teeth, “Nah, I’m pretty fucking tired bro, probably just going to crash and fucking figure out what the fuck we’re doing next.”

“You got a meeting with Mark too?” Kam asked with Mark constantly reminding him throughout the night to call him the next day.

“Nah,” Jamal shook his head, “He was in my ear all fucking month about how after the bowl game, the deals might look different, the offers might look different but shit, you fucked around and ruined that, nigga.”

“You know the outcome when you fuck with a real nigga,” Kam joked.

Jamal laughed, shaking his head. "Man, whatever. You got lucky and you know it." He glanced at his watch, the sleek face glinting under the streetlights. "Alright, I'm out. Y'all have fun tonight."

As they walked towards the parking lot, the cool night air nipped at their skin. The distant hum of traffic and the occasional honk of a car horn drifted through the air, reminding them of the city's constant pulse. Their footsteps echoed on the pavement, a steady rhythm punctuated by the click of Yassy's heels.

"Take care, bro," Kam said, clasping Jamal's hand in a firm shake before pulling him into a quick hug. "Hit me before you head back to Jersey, aight?"

"For sure," Jamal nodded, his breath visible in the chilly air. "Later, Yas."

Yassy offered a small wave as Jamal turned and headed towards his car, his silhouette gradually fading into the darkness of the lot.

Kam and Yassy continued their walk, the gravel crunching beneath their feet. The parking lot was eerily quiet, their car one of the few left. As they approached, Kam noticed Yassy's pace slowing, her shoulders sagging slightly.

"You okay?" he asked, concern lacing his voice.

Yassy sighed, her breath forming a small cloud in the air. "Yeah, just... I'm pretty beat, Kam. Today was a lot."

They reached the car, and Kam leaned against the cool metal, studying Yassy's face in the dim light. "We can head home if you want. I don't mind."

Yassy shook her head, her earrings catching the faint glow of a distant streetlamp. "No, no. You should go out and celebrate. This is your night, Kam. After how everything started with y’all, you deserve it.”

"You sure?" Kam asked, fishing the car keys from his pocket. "I don't want to leave you at the crib by yourself if you're not feeling well."

"I'm fine, really," Yassy insisted, a small smile playing on her lips. "Just tired. You go have fun with the guys."

Kam hesitated, his hand on the car door. "You positive?"

"Absolutely," Yassy nodded, her voice firm despite her evident fatigue.



The club's interior hit him like a wave - a sensory overload of flashing lights, thumping music, and the mingled scents of perfume and alcohol. Bodies moved in sync on the dance floor, a sea of motion beneath the kaleidoscopic lights. Kam weaved his way through the crowd, his height allowing him to scan the VIP section.

That's when he spotted Kyrie, holding court in his own roped-off area. Their eyes met across the room, Kam made his way over, steeling himself for the interaction.

"Yo, Kyrie," Kam said, extending his hand.

Kyrie looked up, his face impassive. "Yo," he replied, his grip firm but brief as they dapped up. The ice in his voice was palpable, a stark contrast to the warmth of the crowded club.

"I’ll fuck with you later," Kam offered, trying to bridge the gap.

Kyrie nodded, his eyes already drifting past Kam to someone else. "Yeah, you too," he said dismissively.

Kam took the hint, backing away from Kyrie's section. He could feel the eyes of Kyrie's entourage on him as he retreated, their whispers lost in the thunderous music.

Shaking off the encounter, Kam made his way to where Marlon had reserved their spot. As he approached, he could see the section was already alive with energy. A group of girls in glittering dresses occupied one of the plush leather couches, their laughter rising above the music. Several of his teammates were there too, drinks in hand, basking in the afterglow of their win.

"Ay, there he is!" Marlon shouted, spotting Kam. He raised his glass in a toast, the amber liquid sloshing dangerously close to the rim. "Killa Kam, Killa Kam, Killa Kam Kam!”

Kam grinned, the tension from his interaction with Kyrie melting away as he was enveloped by the warmth of his friends. He clasped hands with his teammates, accepting their congratulations and returning their enthusiasm.

A waitress appeared, seemingly out of nowhere, with a tray of shots. The glasses clinked as they were distributed, the smell of tequila sharp in the air.

“I only fuck with the brown,” Kam shook his head in disgust as the tequila made its way down his throat.



The night had progressed with more shots, varying in liquor, as the club was near capacity with each VIP section crowded to the roof. A few older guys had arrived, instantly engaging i in a battle of one-upmanship that bordered on the absurd. Bottles of expensive champagne appeared in rapid succession, their foil-wrapped necks glinting under the pulsating lights. The pop of corks punctuated the throbbing bass, each one a declaration of superiority. Kam’s section kept it modest, needing their NIL earnings to last them through the holiday season.

As the night wore on, the club's atmosphere shifted. The once-playful competition between sections had morphed into something uglier, more volatile. Kam watched as girls in shimmering dresses migrated between the warring sections, drawn by the promise of free drinks and VIP treatment. The air crackled with tension, testosterone, and the sickly-sweet smell of spilled alcohol. Snippets of heated conversation drifted over the music, words sharp enough to cut.

"Man, this shit getting lame," Kam muttered to Marion, eyeing the growing crowd of muscle-bound men clustering around the rival sections. "Let’s get the fuck out of here.”

Marion, several shots deep and swaying slightly to the beat, shook his head. "Nah, bro, it's just getting good! You ain’t see the bitches that just walked in?" His eyes were bright with excitement, oblivious to the danger simmering just beneath the surface.

Kam felt a knot forming in his stomach. The memory of the recent robbery was still fresh, a stark reminder of how quickly things could go wrong. He couldn't shake the feeling that tonight might end in violence, and he wasn't about to leave his friend vulnerable.

"Look, I'm gonna step out for a minute," Kam said, placing a hand on Marion's shoulder.

Marion nodded absently, his attention already drifting back to the spectacle unfolding before them. Kam pushed his way through the crowd, the bass thumping in his chest as he made his way to the exit.

The cool night air hit him like a slap to the face as he stepped outside. Kam took a deep breath, trying to clear his head. He knew what he had to do, even if every instinct told him it was a bad idea. With purposeful strides, he made his way to his car, parked in a dimly lit corner of the lot.

The gun felt heavy in his hands as he retrieved it from its hiding place. Kam checked the safety, then tucked it into the waistband of his jeans, making sure his shirt covered it completely. His heart raced as he approached the club's entrance, palms sweaty as he nodded to the bouncer.

Kam’s re-entry had grabbed the attention of Darius, one of Kyrie’s friends, who tapped him on the shoulder.

“There go that bitch ass nigga,” he snickered, “You really should sock the shit out of that boy, I can tell his shit sweet.”

“That sounds fucking crazy,” Boog laughed, the liquor heavy on all of their breaths.

“You know what I mean,” Darius said sternly, “He really got our nigga out here like he chump or something. Fuck that, the coaches can’t save him right now.”

“He is right,” Boog nodded in approval, “You got to get your ones with that nigga again. Ain’t shit over unless you get a win, nigga.”



The music seemed to fade into the background as their words hung in the air. The crowded club suddenly felt claustrophobic, the air thick with anticipation. Other members of Kyrie's entourage nodded in agreement, their eyes darting between Kyrie and Kam.

"He thinks he really like that," Darius pressed on, his hand gripping Kyrie's shoulder. "You got caught off guard last time. No coaches to save him, just man to man."

Kyrie's expression remained unreadable as he slowly stood up, his eyes never leaving Kam. The crowd seemed to part as he made his way across the dance floor, his steps measured and deliberate. The music throbbed in time with the tension building in the room.

As Kyrie approached, Kam turned to face him, his body instinctively tensing as the duel between both sections had began to cool off.

"Yo, Kam," Kyrie said, his voice low but clear even over the pounding bass. "You owe me a fade, nigga. No sucker punches, no interference. Just you and me."

Kam couldn't help but let out a short, incredulous laugh. "You serious right now?”

Marlon, sensing the growing tension, quickly stepped between them. "Yo, yo, let's all calm down here," he said, his hands raised in a placating gesture. "This ain't the time or place for this shit. We're all here to celebrate, right?"

Darius's face contorted with anger as he shoved Marlon hard, sending him stumbling backwards. "Stay the fuck out of this," he snarled, his words slurred but menacing. "This ain't got shit to do with you. You ain’t do nothing last time to stop it so don’t step up now, bitch ass nigga"

The push set off a chain reaction. Bodies collided as people tried to get out of the way, drinks spilled, and the air filled with shouts and curses. In the chaos, Kam felt a sudden shift at his waist, followed by a sickening thud on the floor.

Time seemed to slow as all eyes in the vicinity turned to the gun lying exposed on the sticky club floor, its metal gleaming under the pulsating lights. For a split second, nobody moved.

Then, everything happened at once.

Boog's hand flew to his waistband, emerging with a pistol of his own. The sight of the second weapon sent a jolt of panic through the crowd. Screams erupted as people began to push and shove, desperate to get away from the unfolding confrontation.

Kam's heart pounded in his ears as he lunged for his fallen weapon. His fingers closed around the grip just as Boog raised his gun, the barrel glinting ominously in the strobing lights.

Without thinking, Kam squeezed the trigger.

The sound of gunshots cracked through the air like thunder, drowning out the music and screams. The acrid smell of gunpowder filled Kam's nostrils as he fired wildly in Boog's direction, his hands shaking uncontrollably. People dove for cover, overturning tables and chairs. The air filled with the tinkling of shattered glass and terrified shrieks. Through the pandemonium, Kam caught a glimpse of Boog stumbling backwards, his face a mask of shock and fear.

Kam grabbed Marlon’s arm, yanking him towards the exit as vivid memories of him running down that street replayed in his mind. He wasn’t going to let it happen again. They pushed their way through the panicked crowd, elbows and shoulders colliding as everyone scrambled for the doors.
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Captain Canada
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Requiem for a Broken Dream.

Post by Captain Canada » 21 Sep 2024, 14:10

This dude a sociopath fr :drose:
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The JZA
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Requiem for a Broken Dream.

Post by The JZA » 21 Sep 2024, 14:31

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