Please Login or Register to get full access to the forums.

Lost Password?
Current time: 03-28-2024, 05:59 AM (time should display as Pacific time zone; please contact Admin if it appears to be wrong)                                                                


X-treme Wrestling Federation » Warfare Boards » Warfare RP Board
Wake & Fake OR Psycho Slap Chop a Fib Flop
Author Message
JimCaedus Offline
Trash Talker Skywalker



XWF FanBase:
Mixed

(loved by some; hated by some; dips between clean/dirty)


#1
09-10-2017, 11:17 PM

(ooc: Apologies for the wait Engy bro, I'll do my best to catch up. Here's the heartwarmingly happy ending explanation presented relevantly in IC.)


---Wednesday•September 7•2017•Midday---


I stand silently, statuesque, doing my best to appear cool and apathetic as Joe, Verizon Store tech, calls my older brother John Caedus to no avail.

Joe hangs up.

"I'm sorry sir, they still aren't answering."

::BVVVVT::

I reach into my pocket upon vibration notification.

"That must be him _now_. I texted his ass and told 'im Verizon is callin' for the PIN so I can get the upgraded device. He knows my phone ain't workin'."

I pull out my friend's borrowed phone and check the text.



Wrong number.



I stare at the screen, shock coursing through me. I look to Joe.

"The number on the account _is_ ***-***-**98, right?"

Joe glances down at his electronic clipboard or whatever the fuck the shit is. Damn technology...

"Yyyyes it is."

I look back to the text as if I NEED to double-check.

Same.
Fucking.
Number.

Oh...so it's like that? Really? Outta nowhere?

I immediately wanna send a response to the tune of: "What the fuck, asshole? You ain't man enough to tell me your cunt wife who's known me since I was 7 years old has finally and successfully inspired you to turn your back on your younger and ONLY brother? You gotta play it like a pussy?" or: "Remember that picture of you holding me as an infant? Been wantin' to drop me since then haven't you?" OR: "I'm sure mom approves of you cuttin' me outta the family picture, literally leaving me with NO ONE left in context." but that specific concept would require John's belief in an afterlife and not that our dead mother is simply feedin' the maggots in a casket. Shit, I even consider givin' 'im the benefit o' the doubt with a simple: "John...this is your number. What's the deal?" but that'd be completely rhetorical at this point...there IS no explanation that doesn't involve shady af reasoning.

I decide, seein' as most people believe me to be stupid anyway, I'll play into it. I'll let 'im have his fabrication. Plenty of shit to call others on elsewhere. So...I merely text back:



My bad.



I then return the phone to my pocket and my attention to Joe.

"Ok, well, I guess that's that. Sorry to waste your time, Joe."

"I'm sorry about that sir. If you get this figured out come on back and I'll set you up with the J7 right away."

"I doubt that'll happen but thanks anyway."

I turn to leave and suddenly I brighten.

What am I worried for? I'm Jim Caedus; handsome home owner, commercial-level mmj grow entrepreneur and millionaire professional wrestler who has access to a personal state-o'-the-art laptop and the financial ability to simply set up my OWN phone line as well as purchase a new device this instant, not some struggling, also handsome guy who works a minimum wage job and is tryin' to save up to escape the High Desert, right? Otherwise I really _would_ be royally FUCKED right about now.

This line of thought calms me, Jim Caedus, as I depart for the parking lot.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


======€@£|)Ų$======




CAEDUS REWIND: An awl, a blank page and hair. Three items Jim has been led- no, _urged_ to collect by an unknown force that seemingly sprang forth following a visit to Phelan in the High Desert of California and physical contact with Jim's apparent "doppleganger", for lack of a better term. "Psychically" barred from investigating (or even pondering) on the situation, Jim has no choice but to blindly oblige. Well, on the bright side, Jim's got a new girlfriend and she kicks ass. Tala. Sugay. Muthafuckas. And contrary to Raven's joking assumption, Jim can indeed tell the two sisters apart. Tala's the hotter one. Duh...





---Thursday•September 8•2017•Late Morning---


::VIDEO DISABLED::

E
X
Q
U
I
S
I
T
E

E
X
H
A
L
E

I feel her hands wrap around the back of my head and pull.

Ain't gotta tell ME twice.

This always leaves my nose red like I've been drowning my Coco Puffs in whiskey for the past twenty years but I allow her to mash my face in anyway. I like Tala. I like her a lot. It's my pleasure to make her feel good. There's also something to be said about scent and taste doing this for a woman I enjoy; having to earn scratch back in the early double-Os debasing myself with homely lonely older women was less than delightful to say the least. Tala however...she's delicious. My salivary glands are working overtime.

I feel her thighs shake against my ears. Unbelievably sexy. I use my lips to encircle, I add some suction and massage with the tip of my tongue. I introduce two fingers. That all goes over quite well.

S
H
I
V
E
R
I
N
G

G
A
S
P
S

Perfect legs ensnare my head, a priceless backside lifts from bed. Tala jerks. Greater warmth begins coating my fingers, slowly running down to my knuckles. I don't stop for several more minutes, I shoot for multiples.

When all's said and done, I lick my fingers "clean" to illustrate my continued desire and I head for the bathroom.

::VIDEO ENABLED::

I wash my nose and lips with soap but I give the moustache and beard a simple once over with plain water. I dry off with a towel and sniff the 'stache. I smile in the mirror.

Eau de Tala. Cool with _me_.

Yeah, I'm a hypersexual hornball. Fuck it. I want something to remind me of her while I head for Toronto and she's-

TORONTO

There it is...the draw. The "psychic" order. Since my highly punishing match with John Holliday, my stay in the XWF Wellness Center recovery ward following Savage and that nasty fall when John tossed me off the balcony, I'd been wondering when it'd hit me again.

So the next mystery item is in Toronto. How convenient. Whomever or WHATever is doing this must-

"FUCK!!"

I clutch my head as an intense migraine pounds my musings into oblivion.

"Babe, you ok," Tala calls from the bedroom??

The migraine disappears. What was I thinking again?

Whatever.

"I'm good baby. Hit my head."

Did I?

"Be careful with that dome of yours, I need it."

I grin mischievously.

"Oh, it'll be good to go when you need it next."

"How about now?"

She giggles.

Again, ain't gotta tell ME twice.

I flick off the bathroom light switch.

When I want somethin', better believe I'm goin' for it.
----------------------------------------




"Wake & Fake
OR
Psycho Slap Chop a Fib Flop"










---Thursday•September 8•2017•5:05 PM---

---Castle Caedus•Naples Island•Long Beach CA---


So it's come to this: a burn-out battle, a doper donnybrook, a junkie joust. I don't know why that..."psychic"..._"force"_ is allowin' me this backhand to back-burner with the quest o' collectin' items in favor o' flippin' the fraudulent a "fuck you" but by Beelzebub's boiled Bugles, a ludicrously delirient Lullaby o' Birdland flower trumpet solo begs to blast through the muter held over bell by a man clumsily tappin' valves, blowin' hot air without the embouchure of experience to lend anything more than untrained fart blasts belted out below the recording while he's Milli-Vanilli-ing his performance for the fans. Not since John Blaq's fake-ass molly poppin' poppycockery have I more felt the need for cryin' foul. Thank fuckin' Christ I've done this before, I have backup to capture the journey, EMS for emergencies and my tantalizingly tasty Tala ain't currently here to witness the soon-to-be horrific absurdity.


(instrumental mood music)

The toxins of the imbibed jimsonweed "tea" begin to take affect. I attempt to immediately remind myself of that time in 2002 I did this to drop an anchor, a lifeline; like the time I took more than likely futile-had-the-drug-worked precautionary measures writing out "YOU ARE ON ACID" on a scrap of college rule paper before dropping what turned out to be a fake "double-dip" Hefty Smurf-

"Tab tab tab tab tab tab tab tab tab tab tab tab tab."

I'm quite sure I hear laughter echo in the distance before it pleasantly reverberates to Max Headroom-esque machine gunnery.

:::TRIP:::

"C----oo-----l."

Wait. Wh-"-at?"

The XWF camera crew, standby EMS duo and my master bedroom vanish.

I'm in my room in my family's rented two story house from our Northwest Long Beach past. I'm standing before my dresser and CD/cassette/stereo sound system gazing at walls yellowed from constant smoking of tobacco and weed in the poorly ventilated enclosure which now resemble hive comb dripping with honey.

"How do the posters stay?"

Naked Marilyn Manson hiding his shame behind an open Bible spins the tome around.

The Book of Paul Rubens.

"See ya later, Navigator! Huh-huh!"

:::RAW FOOTAGE:::

Jim hollers, "WHERAPWEE??" to the "Starry Night" print on his wall.

:::TRIP:::

"Where's Pee-Wee??"

The giant face made of shag I both don't recognize and am currently standing on speaks.

"Float or flight?"

"Water time?"

Marilyn orders, "Come in."

To escape the water I can see swiftly rising up below the now conveniently invisible floor I jump at the Manson poster.

:::RAW FOOTAGE:::

Jim jumps forward into the wall like a The Men Who Stare At Goats end scene _fail_ and drops to his back with a bloody nose.

The EMS curse and start toward him.

:::TRIP:::

I leap successfully into the poster. Marilyn instantly orders:

"Get out."

I jump backwards.

:::RAW FOOTAGE:::

EMS help Jim up just before he falls back butt-first onto the bed.

:::TRIP:::

My room is flooded up to just below my top-bunk-only bed I'm now kneeling on, looking over the edge into dark blue water. I can see an unidentifiable fanged fish lurking inches away just below the surface which extends impossibly to room dimensions-defying magnitude. The aquatic antagonist must easily be fifty feet in diameter.

"I don't wanna."

My First Grade teacher Mrs. Krupp responds with her Texas drawl, "Butcha gotta, Jimmy!"

So, heart suddenly racing in terror, I dive in headfirst right over the fish's jaws.

:::RAW FOOTAGE:::

Jim falls forward headfirst onto the floor. The EMS duo _again_ help him to his feet.

:::TRIP:::

The cavern around me is dark and dripping even darker liquid blackness from each of the many stalactites hanging above. I take several steps, turn and continue, kicking through black cubes that give off the same ball-meets-paddle-or-block 8-bit sound effect in Arkanoid upon kicking, the cubes apparently weightless and floating on the floor as they scatter and ricochet away.

:::RAW FOOTAGE:::

Jim walks into his spacious, temperature controlled black tiled floor bathroom illuminated solely by the overheads from the master bedroom and the camera light. He stops, turning to gaze at his reflection in the mirror.

:::TRIP:::

My shadowy, legless clone hovers before me, staring into my eyes with shining spheroids seemingly composed of balls of tar.

"I'm a demon now."

I feel my mouth move around the words but I swear the clone actually voices the statement.

"No, I'M a demon. I AM!"

The clone keeps snatching what I say.

"STOP DOING IT!"

I swing at my clone.

:::RAW FOOTAGE:::

The camera crew captures Jim incoherently grumbling and roaring about a "DIMMIN" before solidly punching the mirror, leaving a fist-sized smashed and spiderwebbed point of impact. Jim then slowly backpedals.

:::TRIP:::

My clone distorts with the punch, its form 80s-morphing into that of actor Doug Hutchison before it floats away from me, becoming a ball of white light that curves around to my right.

"Mulder don't let him cocoon!"

:::RAW FOOTAGE:::

Jim looks to the light source on the camera and yells, "MOLDERDONLEMIMCUHKOO!" He then lunges forward, the crew stepping aside just in time as Jim suddenly darts from the bathroom and out of the master bedroom. They give chase.

:::TRIP:::

I run as fast as I can in pursuit. The journey becomes a Space Mountain rocket-sled ride through the enveloping ebony with Star Wars lightspeed trails appearing from the ball of light ahead. I'm catching up as the sled takes a jarring turn to the right.

:::RAW FOOTAGE:::

Jim runs down the hallway and takes a right turn into the living room.

:::TRIP:::

The hyperspace tunnel opens up into a perfect department store model display of my living room at home on Naples Island except the walls are black and all the furnishings appear to be constructed of white Legos.

And there's the ball of light!

I snatch up a golden bauble from an all white lego round table that perfectly resembles the animated genie's lamp from the 90s Duck Tales movie. The voice of Rip Taylor spouts out, "SHABOOIE!"

:::RAW FOOTAGE:::

Jim grabs the brass genie lamp incense-oil burner from the small black marbletop round table beside his recliner and hurls it at the reflection of the camera's light source on the section of glass wall across the room from him.

:::TRIP:::

I fling Aladdin's lamp at the ball of light and I'm treated to an explosion of stardust. The light disappears.

"You're dead now Percy. I aim good."

:::RAW FOOTAGE:::

The window shatters whole.

"YURDNOWPISSY! INEGUD!"

Jim screams victoriously at the top of his lungs then runs through the glass wall frame and into the backyard.

:::TRIP:::

I hustle through a small stretch of all-black forest. The ground gives way beneath me and I plummet hundreds of feet that seem to zoom by before I land in a titanic bowl of horchata. My eyes spy a diamond on the sweet liquid surface. I grab it before it can float away.

"Now it's mine!"
--------------------


---Saturday•September 9•2017•Morning---

---Castle Caedus---


I watch safely behind a pair of Locs sunglasses as my hells bells trip continues to play out on the monitor before me, unable to prevent the heat of humiliation from washing over my surely beet-red face. My eyes strain to view in spite of the photosensitivity though it would've been much worse had I not had that pair of emergency medical techs on hand to eventually intervene, forcing vomiting and whatever else they'd done to halt the nightmarish experience and prevent as much damage as possible. Last time I did that it was like suffering a burning-blurring of the eyes for days after, as if I'd swum laps in a pool with FAR too much chlorine.

I watch as I pluck a floating silver beer can from the water and shout something indecipherable right before the EMS duo rush to the edge of Naples channel and jump in, swimming over to safely retrieve me.

I switch off the monitor, turn to the camera and scoff, shaking my head.

"Went on like that for twenty more hours, or so I'm told. I don't really recall much after the swim. You forced me to relive an experience I never wanted to repeat so I could prove an irrefutable point, punk and for that, this Wednesday...I'm gonna hafta feed you your own fuckin' balls. But first...I gotta make an example outta your gold-brickin' bullshittin' bitchass for that one-two punch o' promos you potshotted, fully under the impression you were layin' a winnin' hand onto the table.

In the words of Sun Tzu:

"Pretend inferiority and encourage his arrogance."

That was the strategy, in a nutshell, behind your first shot and don't you deny it with your twatly tissue-thin veil o' "who, me?". Yeah I know, for all intents and purposes, for asinine appearances, you, Engy, have been playin' the brainless half-wit with as much ham-handed half-assery as Scully's special-ed persona for Team 2.0 and ain't no one been buttfucker enough to call you on it yet. Unfortunately, dickhead, you drew Jim Caedus in this duel and ol' Jim, well...he specializes in makin' asses outta folks and figuratively fuckin' their dark gas-blastin' anal asterisks with the long, hard rod o' truth. Exposin' lies is what I do, douchebag. Lies and façades.

Deceit, for example, in the vein o' pursin' those lips for the purpose of ever so softly blowin' false flattery up MY ass with that already-old-hat-hackishly-contrived-über-Conservative-characterization in dyke Dyson and her Caedus compliments while you roll out the whole "oh woe is me, I so stoopid" routine. Fuck you thought I was gonna do there, asshole, grin sheepishly, blush and play into it like a schmuck? What was it you said?"


:::AUDIO PLAYBACK:::

"It ain't easy bein' stupid. Stupid ain't somethin' ya can hide."

:::END PLAYBACK:::

"No, Engy, stupid ain't somethin' you can _fake_, fuck-up, and ain't no one as duncely as _you_ play so inexplicably as self-aware as you've proven to be. For fucksake, listenin' to you drone on with that clumsily contrived over-the-top linguistic idiocy so unconvincingly is like listenin' to anyone explain how the hell that product of Jewlluminati-inbreeding sack of aesthetic birth defects Chris Mintz-Plasse was juiced into Hollywood instead o' bein' strangled and tossed onto a pile o' genetic failure baby corpses like a runt Spartanling in 300. Quite honestly, it sickens me to think you thought I'd be naïve enough to fall for it and I don't give a shit if you try claimin' even an INCH o' sincerity with the flattery, I take it all as an insult. You'll pay for that you placating piece o' shit; I'll be lookin' to lower that true IQ o' yours to a level more in line with the lies by fracturing that uncrowned crown o' yours and beatin' the legit Gump into you. On the brightside in context, can win medals too so you'll be able to continue that oh-so-impressive run you described after coppin' to bein' smart enough to pull it all off as if it took brainpower to overcome first the retiring favorite TRAX then not-Sid Feder.

You didn't think Boss Lane's words held any credence explainin' his reasoning behind snatchin' that crown and if so...you didn't at least _suspect_ it was the ultimate truth when Theo danced 'is happy ass into the picture and did the same? Jesus...you're a helluva lot more arrogant than you let on. The XWF 2017 King o' the Ring was an embarrassment bro, the crown and illustrious title needed to be salvaged, and here you are braggin' on two singles matches against Mr. Quitjoy and one-shot _Seth_ Feder? Try havin' to face a hustlin' Dolly fuckin' Waters and a _full-throttle_ TRAX at the same goddamn time like I did in the Lethal Lottery 4 finals. For that matter, try workin' your way through a tourney includin' the likes o' Robbie Motherfuckin' Bourbon and THE Doc D'Ville. _That's_ an accomplishment to be proud of, Eng', not your-"


I pause to throw up my hands.

"Ok, wait, wait, wait...hold up. I ain't tryin' to come off as an asshole here spreadin' cheeks to shower shade and loose shit all over your entirely pathetic pissant parade...you did put effort in and you did have a final opponent who fought back. Of course, you also said _this_ comparin' your plight to those o' James Raven and Gilly:"

:::AUDIO PLAYBACK:::

"...two guys who ain't have to walk on glass to get their moment in the sun, nobody says SHIT about them gettin' handed the ball."

:::END PLAYBACK:::

"Alright, first of all, that's a seriously substantial silver-tongued and poetically delivered statement right there Engy so again...who the fuck you tryin' to fool with the dullard act when you transition so smoothly into superior semantics like you ain't capable o' keepin' your own weak brainiac-in-dumbfuck's-clothing secret? Second: Gilly receives MORE shit-talkin' on a monthly basis here than anyone I've ever seen without even needin' to utter a single word. By comparison you've gotten off light. Ease off Peter, Engy, he's a staple and a Legend here and he'd probably beat the shit outta you. Third: No one expected much from or gives much of a shit _about_ Chasm but we did all know Gilly woulda whooped 'is ass in any case. As for Blingsteen, that shady shapeshifting shithead hermaphrokike ain't no joke, she just used up all her best ideas on _me_ (thanks by the way cunt) and truly had no way o' fightin' back against Raven-J after that, especially not in response to his hunt-epic promo guest starring none other than The Bourbs and myself. Still, a silent Brucette is somehow more unsettling than an _active_ Seth Feder and Chasm pretty much pulled the same premature pull-out TRAX did so that should answer your fuckin' whiny-ass questions quite logically.

Logically, Engy, unlike your use of a pistol to open a bottle o' cliché "expiremental brain pills" to start "gettin' smarter" (how lazily convenient) when your mouth presented a much more apt destination for a bullet. Oh, what? You got a problem with me gettin' so specific with the details o' your promo like I'm dissectin' every last minute o' content? Again, in the words o' Sun Tzu:

"Thus, what is of supreme importance in war is to attack the enemy's strategy."

Which, in your case, segues perfectly into YOUR continuing strategy:

"Risk comes from not knowing what you're doing." - Warren Buffett

What exactly does that mean? That second promo o' yours, "Hind Brain", was not the product of organic reality. Shit was scripted and about as adult swim-cartoonish as it could get like you and the slut prepared for the portrayal o' your "trip" by studyin' the drug sequence in 22 Jump Street. Engy...the most intense and complex hallucinations you're gonna get in this life can be found via the very drug I ingested days ago. Datura. Hells bells. Ain't nothin' in the world, includin' some easy-way-out-of-a-poor-choice expiremental medication you and Dyson invented, that's gonna give you a perfectly lucid and relevantly cogent storytime trip like you exhibited. See, it takes literal poisoning o' the brain to experience as much as is possible with jimsonweed and that's as semi-sensical as it gets. That salty load you uploaded, however? You downed an entire bottle o' pills that blessed you with an "I've heard one-too-many embellished cinema tales o' peyote highs" hallucination with, how adorable, your "mental projection" o' ME actin' as a spirit guide of sorts...and all of it, as I said, presented as picture perfect to your points, not at all consisting of the truly chaotic. Bro...to achieve that you woulda had to exceed the already terminal-threat levels of every other delirient and hallucinogen in existence and would therefore turn out perma-fried. If you're now perma-fried, you won't be mentally capable o' competin' in the ring outright, much less presentin' ANY type o' challenge in context. Somethin' tells me you won't be fried fo' life though, Engy, much less at all 'cause that'd hardly be conducive to a career in the XWF or ANY wrestling promotion for that matter wouldn't it? No, I strongly suspect the expirement will be a success, yes? Naturally that means we can expect your third shot to more than likely showcase one of three outcomes: smart Engy, not-fried-but-a-desperately-dodging-my-prediction-as-"lunatic" Engy...or some sorta combination o' the two. I mean, even if you decide now to call it all off seein' as I nailed the fuck outta you on every count and simply have Engy waltz into part 3 the same or some slight alteration o' the same, it's all due to the fact you thought you could step up to the Hunter S. Thompson o' drug-abuse-past-possessing-pro-wrestlers and fake a trip without my callin' you out and I'm more sure o' that than I am of knowin' I can walk into any Target across the nation and it's gonna smell o' popcorn popped in piss and oil. Pee-Pop I call it. The fuck's _up_ with that scent by the way?

And speakin' o' scents...I can smell that ol' eau de deflation and doubt waftin' offa you from _here_, hack. You know you've been cornered now and I've left you no avenue to advance without vindicating my every word and critique. The drug trip was cute, I'll admit, and I don't really have a problem with you. I like you in fact Engy, I do...but you GOTTA know you've been shut down as effectively as I'm gonna do in the ring come Wednesday. That effort you're so proud of, it's a watered down down-rated from R to PG-13 cut-time "reboot" o' my own accomplishments in this pinnacle promotion spannin' a swiftly approaching nine months. This is MY baby I'm bringin' to term here and I'll be poppin' that coneheaded soft-skulled sumbitch out your pussy in the squared circle with or without your consent. That belt you hold, assumin' you don't let Reno's just-to-fuck-Caedus-out-of-a-title-shot bleedin' vagina slurp it like a manatee's whiskered blubbery lips from your shoulder...it's my ticket to a shot at retakin' what Brucette robbed me of in cashin-in and ain't no chocolate-milk-swillin'-sober-drug-free-trip-fakin'-fuck-o like you gonna prevent me from snatchin' it.

So swing whatever frantic and assuredly unwise response you can muster, Motherfucker, but understand the critics were backhandin' your ass with honesty: you ain't me, you're a seat filler. Now get the fuck outta my chair, chump, I'm done takin' a dump and if you thought your ride's been frustratin' THUS FAR...you ain't gonna be able to handle the collision with Caedus. I'll see you in Toronto with MY second shot regardless."


:::STATIC:::

:::BLACK:::



TBC

[Image: chM1Ri0.gif]

[Image: pz4P3Ut.png]
Shout out to Gator/Noah Jackson for this kickass banner

[Image: aFZyFWU.jpg]



~XWF ALL TIME TOP 50 - #6!!!! <3
~Efed Podcast Top 100 - #74 w/no Twitter (all credit to you, fam, 🙏 <3)
~XWF UNIVERSAL CHAMPION - 2x
~XWF XTREME CHAMPION - 2x
~XWF TAG TEAM CHAMPION w/Chaos then Engy, w/APEX x2 - 3x 
~XWF 24/7 Briefcase - 3x
~XWF Trio Tag Champion w/Ax3 - 1x
~XWF Television Champion - 1x (undefeated)
~XWF Federweight Champion - 2x
~XWF Triple Title Holder - 1x (TV, Federweight & 24/7 case)
~XWF Double Title Holder - 5x (TV/Fedr, Uni/Trio, Tag/24/7, X/24/7 & Uni/Tag)
~XWF 2017 Lethal Lottery IV Tournament winner!!
~XWF 2017 Leap of Faith Rafter Match winner!!
~XWF 2017 2nd Annual Doc D'Ville Shove-It Rumble Co-Winner w/Chaos!!
~XWF 2017 War Games Co-Winner with Rob Main & Drew Archyle as APEX!!
~XWF Feb. 2017 J. Federweight Scramble Winner!!
~XWF January 2017 RP of the Month!! - "Like a Moth to the Flame"
~XWF February 2017 Star of the Month!!
~XWF March 2017 3-Way Star of the Month!!
~XWF September 2017 RP of the Month!! - "Lions & Tigers & Caedus, Oh Shit"
~XWF July 2021 QOTM!! - line from "Took It All"
~XWF October 2021 RP of the Month!! - "This Just In" audio
~XWF November 2021 Star of the Month!! (3rd time!!!!!!)
~XWF Match of the Year 2021 w/Bourbsy!! - X-Treme, Flynn's Audio Shove-It


---Love Me, Like Me, Hate Me. No Worries---

Gator's Archive💙
[Image: KlXZwFe.png]
In Loving Memory of Captain Dick Powers

Gravy's Archive💙
[Image: YSqFoQ7.jpg]
[Image: oqNqgFo.jpg]
Shout out to Gravy for these kickass banners

Edit Hate Post Like Post
[-] The following 3 users Like JimCaedus's post:
Peter Fn Gilmour (09-11-2017), Prof. Bobby Bourbon (09-11-2017), The Engineer (09-11-2017)




Users browsing this thread: 1 Guest(s)