The Upload

drunk and nasty (nightcorе)

genesis - grimes (𝘀𝗽𝗲𝗱 𝘂𝗽)

little bit - lykke li (slightly Sped Up)

Wicked game - Chris Isaak, sped up.

cigarettes out the window but its sped up

tired of being sad.

we don't talk about bruno.

This is the layered and slowed version of the song you'd find on tiktok.

Alexander Rybak - Fairytale (layered Chorus) (slowed)

CREDIT @its-that-slut-inethyxa IF USED !!

hayloft II ft. eren yeager

Notion  Spedup  Nightcore

my alcoholic friends but its self sabotage

cigarettes out the window || sped up

𝗧𝗿𝗮𝗻𝘀𝗴𝗲𝗻𝗱𝗲𝗿 • 𝗰𝗿𝘆𝘀𝘁𝗮𝗹 𝗰𝗮𝘀𝘁𝗹𝗲𝘀 [𝘀𝗽𝗲𝗱 𝘂𝗽 + 𝗽𝗶𝘁𝗰𝗵𝗲𝗱]

3ㄴ_ㅜ_Black_out_days_but_it_s_sped_up_soft_nightcore,_n

ᴛʜᴇ ᴘᴇʀꜰᴇᴄᴛ ɢɪʀʟ {ꜱᴘᴇᴅ ᴜᴘ}

In the hazy heart of London's underground, Kaleido existed in a perpetual swirl of vivid, mind-expanding color. Their sanctuary was a smoke-filled loft studio in an abandoned warehouse overlooking Camden Lock—a chaotic haven drenched in the heavy scent of incense, scattered with threadbare cushions soaked in spilled wine and sweat, flickering candles casting shadows on walls alive with hand-painted mandalas that seemed to pulse with hidden life.

Days blurred into nights of raw, uninhibited inspiration, fueled by acid's electric visions and the velvet surrender of psilocybin dreams. Orion Kaleido sprawled cross-legged on the floor, his notebook a portal for feverish poetry that poured out like cosmic revelations. Jasper “Drift” Vale teased shimmering, feedback-laced riffs from his electric guitar and hypnotic drones from the sitar, notes bending and twisting like lovers' bodies in ecstasy, lingering in the air as iridescent haze. Milo Brine hammered primal, throbbing rhythms on drums and shook the tambourine with feverish intensity, driving pulses that echoed the heartbeat of the collective.

This was the throbbing core of the free love revolution, and Kaleido embodied it without restraint. Their studio drew a constant flow of artists, drifters, mystics, and hungry seekers—a fluid commune where boundaries dissolved in waves of shared ecstasy. Connections formed not just through words or music, but through raw, intimate touch: tangled limbs on piled cushions, heated skin against skin, breathless explorations of desire that blurred into one another. They paused not merely to rest, but to revel in carnal recharge—passionate embraces, lingering caresses, and uninhibited group intimacies that they believed channeled pure creative energy, turning lust into sonic alchemy.

As darkness descended, Kaleido emerged into the pulsating neon underbelly of the scene. They played in dimly lit beatnik dens, hidden tea houses thick with hash smoke, and fog-shrouded basements where applause came in finger-snaps and knowing glances. Their performances were erotic rituals disguised as concerts: swirling projections dancing over nude silhouettes, incense mingling with the musk of aroused bodies, music that throbbed like a lover's heartbeat—electric guitar stumming in psychedelic rhythm, sitar weaving Eastern mysticism, drums pounding relentlessly, tambourine shimmering in hypnotic frenzy—opening doorways to altered states where inhibitions shattered and collective euphoria reigned.


Moths of London

💔🎉  𝔶ᗩ𝓐 gό ᶠａ𝓈Ťᵉя  👍💀  LeX♡

Notion Spedup Nightcore

Lil LücrZyy

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