🫑

❒#3. again

!!I KNOW EVERYTHING [𝑏𝑢𝑡 𝑑𝑜 𝑦𝑜𝑢??] ‮①

S3 E2 re-requalifying as a professional hyperflopster

stronger

enlightenment.

THANKS TUFF MANGO AKA @lostfrog FOR HAVING ME!!! big freaking cheering im cheering

MY FIRST EVER DJ SET BTW JUST WARNING!!!

art by @blacksoullord on discord

SETLIST:

0:19 | cookierunkingdom - !!I KNOW EVERYTHING [𝑏𝑢𝑡 𝑑𝑜 𝑦𝑜𝑢??] ‮①
2:37 | taski-maidenn - wha??? o.o w/ meta
5:06 | agethacore - AGETHA LOVES ROLLING HEADS!
7:14 | agethacore - HEHEHE DARIACORE IS DUMB!!!!
10:23 | agethacore  - HOW ARE THEY HOT
12:58 | sillygubby - one
15:19 | agethacore - its not my sunglasses though wdf
17:41 | agethacore - CHRONICALLY ONLINE EDM BRO MEETS AGETHACORE
20:15 | ilovenaturesm - 310b9f2a-649a-45bc-ba82-71f821e5874c
22:09 | agethacore - errr/// maybe im cooler them then all!!!
25:56 | agethacore - ID
29:28 | ilovenaturesm - 1faca889-df9e-4b8b-bd90-7c92147a3267

AGETHACORE @ RESPAWN POINT 2

Adele - Skyfall (R3CKLES Hard Techno Edit)

Instagram:
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Download Link: https://hypeddit.com/r3ckles/adeleskyfallr3ckleshardtechnoeditfreedl-1

Free DL

Adele - Skyfall (R3CKLES Hard Techno Edit) FREE DL

An 17-track barrage of modern tearout energy built for rail-riders and late-night chaos.

Rave Saboteur

When the fracture split the vacuum, the chrono-compass snapped to 174.
Courier-pilot Saint VII tightened the straps and slid into the seam of the cosmos. Inside, space moved like a staircase: every two beats a new level, every third an ironic wink from fate. Bass wasn’t sound but ore—mined with a swing-pick, packed into crates by layers, tagged with sharp breaks in the pattern so the route wouldn’t be lost.

On the far side waited the black market of gravity. They didn’t sell fuel there, only knots of rhythm: quick punches, toothy wobbles, strobe-lit syncopes—fresh, predatory, a little cocky. Saint VII slices time into slivers, flips the riff mid-flight, throws right-angle turns that leave the time inspectors grabbing a silent bar instead of evidence.

Landing: the platform of the dance floor. Containers open—and orange impulses surge out.
A short hit—“here,” a reply—“there,” the mocking sub clings to ribs and marches the room up a ladder of breaks—every eight bars a new turn, closer, rougher, bolder. Hands rise, air trembles, and time—embarrassed—pulls a reload: the same motif, louder and straighter to the chest.

Galactic Fracture is contraband geometry of rhythm: a raider’s log that brings back not fear from the cracks, but the urge to jump. Every track is a new step, every break a portal, every pause a sight line.
DEEPNAS logged the signal. Saint VII returned intact—so we can dive back into the rift.

!!I KNOW EVERYTHING [𝑏𝑢𝑡 𝑑𝑜 𝑦𝑜𝑢??] ‮①

g1nger

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