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dribs-and-drabbles · 9 months

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Most memorable items of clothing in bl series in 2023

In order of their airing/me watching them:

I'm thankful I've gotten into the habit of noting which shows I watch and when otherwise I wouldn’t be able to remember. As it is, first on my list is Bed Friend, which kind of sets the tone for this post since it features the best and the worst outfit choices for Uea. The waffle robes and cat ears vs the fake sleeves shirt.

Next is a quick shout out to Por in My School President, since the show started in 2022 but did finish in 2023, and basically all of his outfits. The man is a style icon. But this stripy polo shirt takes the biscuit for me. I need to have it.

On to Moonlight Chicken and this one is a combined effort between Heart and Li Ming. @telomeke prompted me to write a little about it, but essentially the two shirts together are saying 'you're my other half'. Urthe / Tomato sauce.

The Gloves! Need I say more? (Alright, for those of you who don't know - how could you not?! - they're from Chains of Heart).

And now not strictly an item of clothing but an accessory, the most straight ankle bracelet you'll ever see in a thai series. Totally platonic, not gay AT ALL. In Midnight Museum.

In July the different Thai production companies took stock of three versions of the same stripy linin shirt – the cream long-sleeved, the brown short-sleeved, and the charcoal short-sleeved - and proceeded to clad every actor they could in one of them within a three and a half month period (six shows*, eight different characters). We had couple-shirts with both Kawi and Pisaeng and Mew and Top wearing them, and Namneua in Wedding Plan wore all three. (*Step by Step, Be My Favourite, Hidden Agenda, Wedding Plan, Love in Translation, and Only Friends).

Staying in July for a while, and speaking of weddings, Kawi rocked on up to Pearmai and Not's wedding in Be My Favourite in this brown houndstooth shirt and black pants outfit - an almost exact replica of Ray's outfit in the original pilot trailer for Only Friends. I waited with baited breath to see if Ray would still wear the outfit in the actual series...and he did! Not only that, I then realised Uea had already worn it in Bed Friend earlier in the year.

In a surprising turn of events, Be My Favourite – and Krist – turned out to actually be Quite Good. Perhaps distracted by Krist's puppy eyes, we weren't entirely ready for the first appearance of the Dudes shirt – itself a wonderful comment on the narrative since Kawi was figuring out his feelings for Pisaeng – but it was a delight to see it again on Nick in Only Friends, and offering a different narrative comment.

This next one may only be notable for me, but when I was doing my dedicated scan through of oh so many shows to collect items for the communal wardrobe, I noticed this sand and grey sweater amongst the many other items of shared clothing which appeared in The Warp Effect and then very briefly on Pisaeng in Be My Favourite. Not long after, the trailer for Last Twilight dropped and I spotted it again immediately. I've also since noticed it in a speed scan of The Shipper. Not only do I think it's a pretty neat sweater, but I loved the effect it gave in Last Twilight, which I wrote about at the end of this post.

This is getting long but I'm going to keep going (this might be the only 2023 wrap up I do so I'ma make it count).

If you've been following me for a while (or since the BBS days), you’ll know how rabid I go when I see a pair of the yellow-soled Mustard brand shoes in a show. The most recent being in Hidden Agenda worn by Zo…but they're not the ones on this list. Oh no, it's Joke's blue-soled shoes which made me sit up and scream this time...meaning even their shoes were colour-coded in this show. Oh how I wish I could buy a pair of each.

There were many fabulous outfits in Laws of Attraction (especially Charn's) but Tanthai's green rope shirt wins out for me. Green seemed to be used in the show to represent the lies and secrets Tanthai was forced to keep because of his father, and he was metaphorically bound and trapped in these lies and his life. Ah perfection!

I've mentioned a lot of brilliant items but there have also been many awful ones, and the one I can't seem to stop thinking about (or horrifying over) is the Droopy Tits shirt (or Nipple Protector, whichever way you want to call it) which first appeared in Dangerous Romance and then The Jungle just three days later. I'm surprised we haven't seen it again to be honest, but I imagine if we get more spoiled rich kids we probably will.

These next two aren't specific items but more of a shout out to the whole wardrobe design of the shows.

First, Only Friends, with Mew and Ray's transformation to Ray and Sand's (respective) wardrobe choices, as well as the inversion of colours to highlight differences in relationships, and the use of colour-groupings to separate characters (<- a post i have yet to write). I wish I could write more about it…but life is just too busy to give it the time it needs.

The second is, of course, Ai Di and Chen Yi in Kiseki: Dear to Me with how they always share a colour in their different outfits. @respectthepetty details this perfectly here, so I don't need to. I am however still feral about these two and can't wait to do a full re-watch of the show.

And lastly, much like Baseball Mom in Bad Buddy two years ago (and to be honest many of Pat's other shirts), Aof recently gifted us another absolutely ridiculous but brilliantly poignant t-shirt slogan in Mhok's Fart Proudly shirt in Last Twilight, which I went into detail about here. Just A+

Thanks for sticking with me through all that! Any others that stood out for you or that I missed?

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adore-laur · 10 months

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JOYRIDE

— corruption in tokyo brings two partners together again to seek retribution while also fulfilling their desires🚦

ハリー

Midnight in Tokyo.

The city transforms into a neon jungle once the moon takes the stage. Illusionary indigo and hot pink advertisements scale the sides of skyscrapers, their vibrant pixels reflecting off the slick thoroughfares bestrewed with puddles. Cosmopolitan emporiums attract visitors like clusters of moths drawn to a flame, ranging from luxury retail stores to vintage boutiques that line the sidewalks. Many diverse eateries sit snugly in the passageways—the limited seating is where conversations are struck with writers and poets alike. Whimsical art sculptures placed in hidden spots showcase Japanese culture, and the expressive pieces greet tourists from around the world.

It's an urban utopia straight out of a futuristic fantasy.

Digging deeper into the complex metropolis, right in the heart of the infamous Kabukicho District, is where nightlife is most vivacious. Foreigners flock to clubs and bars for ritzy entertainment and exuberant thrills. Alleyways conceal doorways to more private establishments, their explicit thresholds exposed by flickering arrows that guide those who dare to enter. It's sinfully atmospheric, with the smell of smoke and sex lingering past the brick walls lit by dangling paper lanterns.

The vicinity is two sides of the same coin. In the daytime, families wander through a maze of honorable restaurants and hotels, but at night, the devil comes out to play. Risqué signs lead to unlawful pleasure. Curtains cover hostess clubs of endless inebriation. Intimate shops are out in the open to pique the interest of innocents.

However, on this rainy November night, Harry Styles seeks only one unholy cove. He doesn't need to be lured into it by silhouetted street hawkers. Ignoring them is easy when the red light just around the corner holds his true desire.

As his polished dress shoes clack against the wet pavement, a black umbrella looming over his head, he fishes into his trouser pocket to snag a piece of chewing gum. He unwraps the aluminum, pops the green gum into his mouth, folds the rubbery substance using his tongue, stretches it between his two front teeth, and then bites down on it with his back molars. A refreshing burst of spearmint hits the back of his throat, crisp and cool. He begins whistling a catchy tune he heard on the metro subway the other day, the trill echoing off the narrow walls surrounding him. The new graffiti on them catches his attention. Considering the city strictly prohibits street art, it's a rare find, so he admires the esoteric visuals before they're removed by patrolling police.

Taking a sharp left, the top of Harry's shadow reaches his destination before he does. He stops in his tracks and breathes in the hazy air. Smoke seeps under the rusted garage door, and the muffled bass coming from inside is a straight injection into his veins. The Japanese script, emboldened by neon red, spells out the name of the strip club.

ジョイライド

JOYRIDE

Guarded by a towering man in a black suit and maroon tie, it's the only barrier left. Luckily, Harry is well-versed when it comes to sneaking into elite establishments. He shakes his umbrella out, the droplets creating ripples in the asphalt pools beneath his feet. A step under the hipped awning saves his expensive clothing from becoming soaked. His long, houndstooth blazer of a dreary gray color and a dotted scarf wrapped once around his neck make him blend in nicely with the darkness.

Harry clears his throat and politely bows to the daunting watchman. "Kobanwa," he greets, hiding the gum under his tongue out of courtesy. (Good evening.)

"Kon'nichiwa," says the man with a reciprocated bow. "Anata no mōshide wa nanidesu ka?" (Hello. What is your offer?)

Opening the breast pocket of his blazer, Harry plucks out three bills. He unfolds the creased paper one by one, revealing the printed face of an esteemed writer and a five-digit number representing a hefty amount of yen. His desire is worth significantly more, but he'll undoubtedly be spending the rest of what's tucked in his wallet for reasons that will never be publicly disclosed.

"Sakura," Harry says with unwavering eye contact.

He only needs to say a single name for the man to stare back in challenge for three seconds. He then takes the yen and inspects it for possible counterfeits, his nimble fingers flipping the banknotes over with a particular procedure. After an anticipatory moment of crinkling sounds and drowned-out electronic music, he raps a rhythmic knock on the garage behind him. It instantly lifts with a grinding creak, the smoke releasing from underneath and crawling up Harry's legs like ivy on a brick wall.

"Anata no norimono o tanoshinde kudasai." (Enjoy your ride.)

Harry gives the man a fixed smile and then enters his paradise. Weeks of lousy business trips that required him to globetrot across continents have led to this. Tokyo always has something sensational in store for him. He comes back to the sleepless city time and time again for the unpredictability.

Disappointment doesn't exist here—escapade does.

The metal stairs leading to the underground club are grungy and steep, so Harry uses the shaft of his umbrella as a makeshift cane to traverse down the dilapidated steps. Every footfall ends in a squeak until he reaches the velvet carpet at the bottom. Thumping music loudens, the scent of cigarettes grows stronger, and the beat of his heart pounds faster in anticipation.

Red curtains are suspended in front of him, and distant chatter that eclectically ranges from foreign to familiar dialect echoes from behind them. Harry sets his umbrella by the nearby coat rack, then takes his scarf and blazer off to hang them next to a pristine suit jacket. He takes a glimpse at his own suit. It's black cashmere with a contrasting white button-up underneath and a silk tie. He adjusts the collar, tugs on the lapels, and swiftly unclasps the single button. With a final ruffle of his flattened hair and a crack of his neck, he's ready for total immersion.

Pushing the curtains aside, he crosses the threshold. There's no turning back now.

The seductive ambiance immediately invades every one of his senses. There's red everywhere. The spacious room holds the key to subliminal distraction, from the ruby wallpaper to the vermillion leather booths. It's a sub-rosa room where players can have fun after dusk. Every soul that wanders in leaves with a newfangled perspective on the divine beauty of women. At least that's what Harry left with the first time he traipsed in as a fresh face from Europe, a wax-sealed invitation in his hesitant grasp.

He wouldn't call himself a loyal customer, per se. He's not dependent on the half-empty glasses of Yamazaki malt whiskey presented to him on serving trays, only to be respectfully declined. Nor does he come for the puffed cigars and joints perched between persuasive fingertips and lips.

No, it's the stage in his peripheral vision that he floats toward. It's where his desire lies.

His Sakura.

She's on the round stage amid her nightly performance, one leg hooked around a silver pole protruding from the middle of the platform. A red spotlight shines down on her contorted body, her limbs reaching out like the slender branches of a cherry blossom tree. Her long hair is snaked into six braids, four twisted up high and two tinier ones falling over her forehead. The audience of men, some standing close and some sitting in booths, piercingly whistle over the loud music while throwing wads of yen at her as she spins into an upside-down position with ease, gripping the pole using just her ankles. It gives everyone a full view of her leather bodysuit, the glossy black material with cutouts revealing peeks of smooth, brown skin.

Harry stuffs a hand in his pocket and lingers at the back of the club, where no one can pester him with invasive questions about his intentions. They don't understand. He's not here to 'get some,' as they often assume. Sure, he'll leave the place feeling satisfied, but they don't know he gets to take home the woman they're currently fawning over.

Her pole dancing performance nears its end, with a final layer of smoke hovering over the circular platform. The mystique she exudes as she slides into an effortless split is tantalizing. Harry swallows thickly as his hand curls into a fist, every fiber of his being practically itching to be alone with her. He never grows tired of watching her, yet he's utterly addicted to what happens in their designated private room.

The red spotlight switches to a bright white, and his Sakura smiles dazzlingly while collecting the bills thrown her way. Harry smirks and applauds, then pushes off the wall to give her his own special offering. This part seems to always occur in slow motion for him. His eyes are locked on her as he waits until she catches his hypnotic gaze. He weaves through the crowd while chewing on his now flavorless gum, mumbling apologies when he bumps into people's drunken sways until he finally reaches the stage. Slightly opening his suit, he reaches into the interior breast pocket and pulls out a plucked cherry blossom. Technically speaking, he breaks the law every time he acquires the pink symbolism of human existence, but it's of little consequence to his morals. He has much worse crimes under his belt.

Harry gently holds out the blossom amidst the flying yen, a pastel pink delicacy in a sea of brown riches. The following moments play out like a scene in a movie. Time seems to freeze as he homes in on the sound of her high heels clicking closer. He steadily looks up, taking in her tall legs and heaving chest. She tucks a few yen in the tight seam of her bodysuit, then provides him with her undivided attention.

"For me?" she mouths over the deafening music.

His lips break into a wide smile at the sound of her euphonic voice, which he so longingly missed. "Always for you."

Bending down, she takes the cherry blossom from him and brings it under her nose. Her eyes flutter as she smells the fragrant flower. It's flattering that no matter how often she's received one, she still sticks it behind her ear like she does now.

The surrounding men marvel over her, but they'll be distracted soon enough. Two more poles emerge from the stage, and a group of stripper girls come out to continue the regularly scheduled show. Harry doesn't lose focus on his Sakura, simply backing away slowly and jerking his head toward the VIP rooms. It's a drill he aims to follow through with zero problems arising. Almost everyone here is a stranger, so that means they cannot be trusted in the slightest. It's why he doesn't speak to them. If any outsiders find out about the dirty business he deals with on the side, it's a downhill slope into deep trouble.

Harry stops at the opposite side of the room and faces another security guard, but this time, it's one he knows quite well. "Ryōji," he says while bowing. "O-genki desu ka?" (How are you?)

Ryōji bows and withdraws a small gold key from one of the ten hooks behind him. "Okaeri nasai," he responds. (Welcome back.)

Welcome back, indeed. Harry quickly glances around and then places a heavy hand on Ryōji's shoulder, leaning in so no one else can hear him. In English, he murmurs, "We've got another one out back. Do you think you can get some men to handle it before sunrise? I'll have the money sent to you by next week."

The deep inhalation Ryōji takes always makes him nervous. A dreadful silence passes before he says, "Yes, sir. Any special instructions?"

Harry gives him a friendly pat on the arm and takes the key. "Just the usual. She already took care of the hard part."

"As you wish."

With that, Harry gratefully nods and then walks into the back area, where several red doors, some open and some closed, present themselves in a semi-circular fashion. Steering to the right, he throws his gum away and goes to the door with a black '七' on it.

Lucky number seven for a joyride in heaven.

The room is a perfect size, with curtains hanging over the walls for a more intimate experience. Two velvet couches are placed on either side, and a table with glasses and a bottle of an unknown alcoholic drink sits nearby. And, of course, a red light emits from the low ceiling.

Harry gets comfortable, tugging on his pants legs and sitting on the plush couch. Precious time ticks by, the songs slowing into more sultry beats as he waits. He checks his diamond-encrusted wristwatch—it's half past midnight, yet he doesn't feel tired. Maybe it's the adrenaline coursing through his veins. Only the mysterious aura of Tokyo can give him an electric charge like no other.

At last, Desiree struts into the room and daintily falls sideways into his lap. Her stripper name is Sakura, but her real name is used when she's alone with him. She jumps right in and holds his scruffy cheek, kissing all over his face as the red lipstick she wears stamps evidence on his flushed skin.

"I've missed you," she whispers in his ear.

Harry holds her waist and rolls his hips for some relief. "It's all my fault, isn't it? I've been so busy."

Desiree takes the key from him and quickly locks the door. When she returns, she straddles him and says, "You came back to me, though."

He nips her neck, short and tender. "I got your text message and flew straight here."

She grips his chin. "That message wasn't about seeing me."

Harry swallows thickly, his throat suddenly parched. "We don't need to talk about that right now," he murmurs.

"But it will be dealt with?" she asks, her eyebrows dipping with concern.

"Yes, my love."

"Okay." She gently passes her thumb over his eyelashes like they're pages of a well-loved book. "That's all I need to hear."

Harry distracts himself from the dangerous subject by twirling one of her braids around his pointer finger. "I like it when you wear your hair like this, Desi. So pretty."

"Yeah?"

"Mm-hmm. I've gone far too long without you."

She begins loosening his tie. "Tell me what you need."

Sifting through his brain, Harry contemplates his options. The club doesn't allow actual intercourse inside its perimeters, so there are limited, albeit creative, methods that are used. Desiree once told him that the strippers are given a manual of all the diverse ways they can please a customer. There was a specific one he heard her briefly mention in passing. At the time, he was too shy to ask for more details, so he went home and researched the term. Needless to say, it sounded worthwhile.

"Can I have the... red light special? Is that what it's called?"

Desiree smirks and remarks, "That's new. You've never asked for that before."

He blushes with a lackadaisical shrug. "Sorry. Being edged just sounds really fuckin' good right now."

"Why are you apologizing?" She pushes lightly on his chest so he can comfortably lean against the couch. "Relax. Let me take care of you."

Harry couldn't possibly argue, especially when she doesn't waste any time and starts with a green light. Gripping his shoulders, she smoothly rocks into his body with quick movements. His hands knead her ass, the bodysuit bestowing the perfect amount of skin for him to grab. The tension in his muscles eases as she applies pressure to his growing bulge, every perpetual grind making him harder by the minute. His eyes and neck roll back, and he forgets why he was ever stressed hours prior and instead succumbs to the satisfying ache she provides him.

"Oh, my God," Harry moans, spreading his legs further apart. "Fuck, Desi, you feel so good. I'm all yours."

She bites her bottom lip and moves her hips counterclockwise. The switch has Harry gritting his teeth. Shuddering, he opens his mouth and pathetically whimpers while running his hands up her clenched thighs. He feels hot—sweaty, sticky, and salaciously hot. He's burning in a blitz of fiery passion.

The yellow light is when Desiree slows down, still grinding swivels over his pelvis. The throbbing of his cock ceases, and the buildup disappears momentarily. Her back arches as she uses her height over him to palm him with her hand. Leisurely, she squeezes where the head of his cock is through his pants, and a sensitive tingle rushes down his spine as he bites down on his knuckles to suppress his pleading noises.

"Does that feel nice?" she asks, kissing his slack jaw.

Harry's face crumbles in submission. "I need to come. I can't take it anymore."

Red light. He knows he asked for it, but when she stops moving and stands before him, he reaches for her absent touch. "No, come back. C'mon, please. Stop playing around."

She ignores him and kneels on the ground. With one finger, she trails it up his inner thigh until it reaches his covered cock. She fondles the length of it, erotically squeezing in all the right places while looking at him with eyes of a rich brown color. He often dreams of her mouth puckered around it, her wet lips and hollowed cheeks making him fall apart.

Suddenly, his tie is removed, and Desiree holds it up. "Are you ready?"

"I'm so close," Harry breathes out. Inhaling sharply through his nose, he adds, "You're so gorgeous; do you know that? Got me... shit, I'm absolutely aching for you."

She stuffs the tie in his mouth and finally straddles him again, riding his thighs to bring him to his peak. His moans are muffled against the fabric as she gives him a lap dance, her body rolling to the R&B music from the distant speakers.

It doesn't take long for Harry to come; a damp spot forms on his pants shortly after. Every part of his body feels light as he spits his tie out, breathing heavily. He really needed this.

"Ready to leave this place?" he asks, touching himself until he's soft and able to walk.

Desiree kisses him, her tongue delving into his mouth, before nodding. "Are you taking me on another joyride?"

Harry smirks and wipes off the lipstick stain she left on the corner of his mouth with the pad of his thumb. "Full throttle, baby."

——

デザレイ

The first thing Desiree sees when rounding the corner of the alleyway is a parked Kawasaki motorcycle.

The rain has let up; only a light drizzle is now falling from the starlit sky. People still pass by with umbrellas, minding their business. The lights outside are stimulating, with signs above casting fuchsia pink and Prussian blue hues over her and Harry's faces. The air reeks of gasoline and smoke, and vehicles are racing past to hop on the expressway. It's a city of nocturnal souls who get off on cheap thrills, and she couldn't help but get hooked on the appeal. Night crawling on a high-speed bike through the neon streets is the most thrilling adventure she can imagine.

Harry rents out a different motorcycle every time he visits. When they first met, he told her he owned a marketing firm in London, so he had the money to afford such luxuries. The first time he walked into the club, she thought he would be like everyone else—a drunk and lonesome man needing attention. However, he was actually a man of innocence who stumbled upon an underground scene he wasn't expecting. She saw the intrigue in his eyes and taught him how her world worked. She let him choose what he desired without taking advantage of him. She trusted his intentions and let him see every side of her, saintly or sinful.

Their journey leads to the eager way he's looking at her now, one gloved hand holding out a helmet and the other gripping the motorcycle's handlebar.

"Ladies first," he says with a playful smile.

Desiree tightens the belt on her blood-red leather coat and puts the helmet on. It rubs uncomfortably against her hair, but she's not one to place beauty above safety precautions. She then hikes a leg over the back seat, and Harry does the same motions while straddling the front seat and starting the engine. It rumbles to life when he squeezes the clutch, and he attractively revs the engine three times.

"All good?" Harry calls out behind him, using the back of his shoe to kick up the kickstand.

She wraps both arms around his waist and props her chin on his shoulder. "So good."

Reaching back to squeeze her thigh, he speeds into the fast lane. For the next twenty minutes, the brisk wind blows in her ears, and the feeling of flying overtakes her entire body. She spreads her arms, and Tokyo comes alive just for her, blurry colors whooshing past as they accelerate through traffic on the winding expressway. They ride out of the district and towards Marunouchi, where the Shangri-La Hotel is located. With five stars and eleven floors of pure splendor, it's the best place to have a late-night rendezvous.

When they eventually pull up to the hotel, a rectangular building made entirely of glass panes, Harry parks the motorcycle and kills the engine. Desiree carefully removes her helmet and fixes her hair the best she can. Her makeup feels tacky against her skin, but the cool air of an autumn night is refreshing. She looks over to see Harry do the same, his hair sticking up every which way. He sheepishly grins at her and rolls his eyes.

"Hurry up," Desiree says through chattering teeth. She bounces on her heels, feeling the ache travel from her ankles to the tips of her toes.

"All right, all right," Harry mumbles jokingly, holding his hand out. "I'll have a word with Raijin about the inadequate weather."

"Studying Japanese deities, are we?"

Interlocking her numb fingers with his, they head inside the lavish lobby and take the elevator to the seventh floor. The ride is quiet, and exhaustion finally catches up to them. After six beeps, a more prolonged one sounds, and the doors slide open. They walk down the narrow hallway to the back, where the suites are located. Harry swipes his key card and twists the door handle to go inside, Desiree following closely.

The suite is as tidy and stylish as one would expect from a businessman staying there. Two designer-brand suitcases are stacked in the corner by the running air conditioner. A housekeeper must have cleaned and organized his belongings. Crisp white sheets on the king bed look quintessential for bundling up in.

Desiree removes her heels and flops on the firm mattress. She blearily watches Harry open the mini fridge by the door, hearing the clink of beer bottles. Her assumption proves correct when one is thrown beside her, yet her body has no energy left to open the cap and drink the bitter liquid.

Harry takes off his suit jacket and button-up, then sits against the headboard and spreads his legs on either side of her sprawled-out body. He takes a swig of beer, his jawline sharp and his throat bobbing. His bare torso, decorated with tattoos, looks like the perfect pillow, so Desiree shimmies upwards to lay her head on his abdomen. She listens to his subtle breathing.

"So, how'd you kill him?"

Well, that's one way to initiate a conversation. Desiree snaps her eyes to his, staring at him a little funny due to her position. "Katana," she answers casually. "Quick and easy."

He hums, sets his beer on the nightstand, and then delicately untangles her two front braids. "Made a mess, huh? Ryōji's men won't be too happy about that."

She fidgets with one of her loose acrylic nails. "They've dealt with worse cleanups."

She knew what she was getting into when she decided to work in Tokyo's Red Light District. There's no way to sugarcoat what goes down in the alleyways. It doesn't feel like a crime to her if she's getting rid of the bad guys. It's justified in her mind.

Harry moves his hands to undo her bigger braids. "I know," he says softly, "but it's getting riskier. And more expensive on my end."

Sighing, Desiree replies, "Asphyxiation is so boring, though. I like my swords."

"Desi, I'm serious." He tilts her head to look at her straight on. "It worries me when you do those types of killings, and I'm not here to handle the outcome. What if something were to go wrong?"

She frowns. "We're a team. You flew out to me without hesitation when I told you my plan."

"Yes, but you act on impulse sometimes," he says, putting her elastic ponytail around his wrist. "I can't always do that with my job. You're lucky I was available."

"So, you only came to help with the repercussions? Not to see me?"

"You know that's not true. If it was, I'd be on a plane back to London right now instead of spending the night with you in Tokyo."

"Just making sure," she says with a hidden undertone of insecurity.

Once all six braids are out, her hair frizzy and free, Desiree sits up and takes her suffocating coat off. Underneath, she has a more comfortable outfit that she changed into before leaving the club. She internally debates whether she wants to go through the hassle of taking everything off, but before she can thoroughly weigh her options, Harry reaches over to open the nightstand drawer, pulling out something crinkly.

"I, uh, bought some makeup wipes," he explains while fidgeting with the package. "I didn't know what brand you use, but it's coconut, and I know you like coconut rum. There's no correlation, but it's the thought that counts, right?"

Desiree is speechless for a moment. This is the first time he's done something like that. "Th-thanks. Can you help me take it off?" she says quietly.

"'Course. Scoot over."

She takes one side of the bed and sits cross-legged in front of Harry as he plucks a wipe. He folds it into a compact square four times and then hovers it over her face. His gaze wanders a bit before he starts gently swiping under her eyes.

He speaks up again once the air conditioner clicks off. "Can I ask, pray tell, why you killed him?"

Desiree breathes out a laugh. "Funny," she says as he scrubs the pigmented blush off her cheeks. "I remember when you couldn't even stomach asking me that question. Now you do all the dirty side work."

Harry shrugs. "You're a bad influence."

Sage advice from two people who dabble in reincarnating as a more sadistic Bonnie and Clyde: It's remarkably more fun to have a loyal partner in crime than to be a lone outlaw.

"Let's see," she muses with a dramatic flair. "His name was... fuck if I know. All I was told was that he was a gang member who lured young girls in and brainwashed them into committing crimes around Shinjuku for money worth jack squat."

"Jesus. What about the other gang members?" he asks, wiping her smeared lipstick off.

"I'm not too worried about them. They would never suspect that a stripper at Joyride killed one of their own. They'll probably assume it was another gang's doing."

"That's a relief." Harry yawns and tosses the dirtied makeup wipe into the nearby garbage. "All right, I've had enough killer talk. Shall we get some sleep?"

Desiree grins tiredly and touches the smoothness of her bare face. "We shall. My body aches."

Stripping takes a toll on her joints and muscles, especially since she incorporates performance art into her dancing. Untreated strains and torn ligaments have been left in the past due to years of training, but residual pain still lingers each night when she steps off the stage.

Once they're comfortable under the sheets, Desiree curls into Harry's warm chest. "When do I have you until?" she asks reluctantly.

He wraps an arm over her back and says, "Tomorrow night."

She recounts all the times he's had to catch a red-eye flight immediately after they arrive at the hotel. Tonight, she's lucky she got him a little longer than usual.

"It's better than nothing."

Harry scrunches her hair and leaves a long kiss on her temple. "You can always come back to Europe with me," he murmurs. The scent of beer wafting through his breath is mouth-watering.

Desiree shakes her head solemnly. "I can't. I belong here."

"I understand." She feels him smile before kissing her head once more. "A cherry blossom should stay in Japan, right?"

"Very clever." She closes her eyes. There's an elongated pause of internal reflection before she continues. "Listen, I don't want you to feel trapped. I don't want you to feel like I'm using you."

Harry rubs the sore muscles around her shoulder blades. "I don't feel that way. I chose to get involved with how you live your life. If I'm being honest, I quite enjoy the danger of it."

It's easy for him to say when he only has to deal with the business side of it. A pipeline of recruitment occurred where Shyla loosely hired Harry to hire men who would dispose of the dead bodies she threw in the dumpster behind the club. No one dares roam that haunted alleyway, which makes it the most adequate place to safely hide a killing. Then, he pays them handsomely in cash for successfully completing the treacherous deed.

Desiree cups his cheek and whispers, "Please... just tell me if it ever gets too much and you want out. I'll find someone else."

"It's never too much when your intentions are good."

It's not enough. His safety is her top priority.

"Tell me to stop, and I will," she says sternly. "Give me the red light, and I'll go to Europe with you. You can show me Buckingham Palace and that stupid clock—"

"Desi," Harry interrupts with a thumb against her parted lips. "I will tell you if it gets to that point, okay?"

She takes his large hand and holds onto it like it's the last time she'll ever touch his skin. "Promise me."

"Yakusoku." (Promise.)

His spoken oath doesn't mend the problem she has with herself. There's a constant battle whenever she thinks too deeply about what she participates in. She questions whether it was a mistake to get involved in cover-up assassinations and bring Harry into it. He used to be innocent. Someone who discovered the darker side of Tokyo is now stuck in the whirlwind of her immoral faults. Did she make him into a brand-new person? A monster? One that knows her crimes and prevents them from becoming exposed?

Is it wrong that she fell for him in the process?

She can never tell him. No, that would complicate things beyond the boundary lines she drew for herself long before she met him. There are too many risks when feelings are a factor—risks of turning on each other if there are relationship issues. Then there's the plain and straightforward risk of barely seeing each other in person. It's all too poisonous of a pool to dip her feet into. Her guard is up, and it's not coming down for anything or anyone.

However, as Desiree drifts into a dreamland, she realizes her guard is lower whenever Harry is around. With his fingers soothingly scratching up and down her aching spine, she doesn't feel the uncertainty that always clouds her mind when he's not beside her. It clears when she awakes to the smell of brewing coffee and room service breakfast on a cart before she can even open her eyes. It gnaws at her boarded-up heart until the pieces chip away. What's left is a vulnerable girl who seeks refuge but can't leave a place of fortune and frisson. She's a moon in broad daylight.

Does she want to be saved? Or does the red light call her name for a reason?

——

#harry styles fanfic #harry styles imagine #harry styles au #harry styles x oc #harry styles smut #harry styles one shot #harry styles #adore-laur #joyride

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manwalksintobar · 3 months

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The Clerk's Tale // Spencer Reece

I am thirty-three and working in an expensive clothier, selling suits to men I call “Sir.” These men are muscled, groomed and cropped— with wives and families that grow exponentially. Mostly I talk of rep ties and bow ties, of full-Windsor knots and half-Windsor knots, of tattersall, French cuff, and English spread collars, of foulards, neats, and internationals, of pincord, houndstooth, nailhead, and sharkskin. I often wear a blue pin-striped suit. My hair recedes and is going gray at the temples. On my cheeks there are a few pimples. For my terrible eyesight, horn-rimmed spectacles. One of my fellow-workers is an old homosexual who works hard and wears bracelets with jewels. No one can rival his commission checks. On his break he smokes a Benson & Hedges cigarette, puffing expectantly as a Hollywood starlet. He has carefully applied a layer of Clinique bronzer to enhance the tan on his face and neck. His hair is gone except for a few strands which are combed across his scalp. He examines his manicured lacquered nails. I admire his studied attention to details: his tie stuck to his shirt with masking tape, his teeth capped, his breath mint in place. The old homosexual and I laugh in the back over a coarse joke involving an octopus. Our banter is staccato, staged and close like those “Spanish Dances” by Granados. I sometimes feel we are in a musical— gossiping backstage between our numbers. He drags deeply on his cigarette. Most of his life is over. Often he refers to himself as “an old faggot.” He does this bemusedly, yet timidly. I know why he does this. He does this because his acceptance is finally complete— and complete acceptance is always bittersweet. Our hours are long. Our backs bent. We are more gracious than English royalty. We dart amongst the aisles tall as hedgerows. Watch us face into the merchandise. How we set up and take apart mannequins as if we were performing autopsies. A naked body, without pretense, is of no use. It grows late. I hear the front metal gate close down. We begin folding the ties correctly according to color. The shirts—Oxfords, broadcloths, pinpoints— must be sized, stacked, or rehashed. The old homosexual removes his right shoe, allowing his gigantic bunion to swell. There is the sound of cash being counted— coins clinking, bills swishing, numbers whispered— One, two, three, four, five, six, seven. . . We are changed when the transactions are done— older, dirtier, dwarfed. A few late customers gawk in at us. We say nothing. Our silence will not be breached. The lights go off, one by one— the dressing room lights, the mirror lights. Then it is very late. How late? Eleven? We move to the gate. It goes up. The gate’s grating checkers our cheeks. This is the Mall of America. The light is bright and artificial, yet not dissimilar to that found in a Gothic cathedral. You must travel down the long hallways to the exits before you encounter natural light. One final formality: the manager checks out bags. The old homosexual reaches into his over-the-shoulder leather bag— the one he bought on his European travels with his companion of many years. He finds a stick of lip balm and applies it to his lips liberally, as if shellacking them. Then he inserts one last breath mint and offers one to me. The gesture is fraternal and occurs between us many times. At last, we bid each other good night. I watch him fade into the many-tiered parking lot, where the thousands of cars have come and are now gone. This is how our day ends. This is how our day always ends. Sometimes snow falls like rice. See us take to our dimly lit exits, disappearing into the cities of Minneapolis and St. Paul; Minneapolis is sleek and St. Paul, named after the man who had to be shown, is smaller, older, and somewhat withdrawn. Behind us, the moon pauses over the vast egg-like dome of the mall. See us loosening our ties among you. We are alone. There is no longer any need to express ourselves.

#poetry #Spencer Reece #American poetry #work #what work is #Minneapolis

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ceruleanmusings · 27 days

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Mason - Fashion

eventually i'll do a visual fashion post for the mason girls so i have a place to reference their styles without needing to describe everything they're wearing.

but to keep it short:

Sammi - "classy", sundresses, platforms and heels, skirts, and jumpsuits are her go-tos. if it's cute, great, if it's mint green, even better! has a makeup look, shoes, a bag, jewelry, and nails to match any and every outfit. coat slings for looks rather than actually wearing them. wears mint green, florals, gingham, and houndstooth patterns. has a metallic green cartilage earring.

Jazz - "sassy", lots of cropped shirts, loose tanks, skinny or distressed jeans, muscle shirts, cold-shoulder shirts, so. many. vans, ever-present backwards red cap, short-shorts and high-waisted shorts, knee-high socks, surfer/paradise/skater brands, tends to wear rings. goes for reds, pinks, tans/creams, and black attire. always wears dark red polish. easy makeup, foundation, eyeliner, eyeshadow, mascara, dark red lips, has a metallic red eyebrow piercing.

Mel - "funky", collegiate-meets-sporty, letterman jackets, nikes, collared sleeveless shirts, high-tops, leather jackets and vests, tapered cargoes and split color jeans, lots of band tees or vintage tees, baseball jersey-style shirts and local small business pieces, tends to wear bracelets and anklets. goes for purple, black, white, tan, and gray attire. always wears black polish. easy makeup, foundation eyeliner, eyeshadow, mascara, neutral lips. has a metallic purple lip ring.

Mickey - "fresh", partial to big hoodies and sweatshirts, simple jeans, overalls, doc martens (pre-style evolution, s1 + s2), punny or sarcastic graphic tees and outerwear, 90s pop culture t-shirts, jean jackets, mickey mouse shirts/patterns, hooded shirts, cuffed or skinny jeans, doc martens (post-style evolution, s3 + s4), tends to wear necklaces, mostly bowtie shapes. always wears blue, will occasionally swap in black or gray. no makeup, but if needed then just eyeliner and mascara. occasionally wears black or blue glitter polish. has a metallic blue nose ring.

#big time quads #mason quads #btr oc #jazz mason #mel mason #sammi mason #mickey mason

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sweetpea-sprite · 1 year

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nickiver upon you

[ID: a drawing of nicky and oliver from ni no kuni: dominion of the dark djinn. nicky is a pale-skinned boy with brown hair and glasses; he is wearing a red and white houndstooth patterned sweater, and a necklace with a pendant in the shape of a crescent moon. oliver is a pale-skinned boy with messy auburn hair; he is wearing a pink shirt with a yellow sun patch on the sleeve.

they are kissing, both with their eyes closed, sitting on an invisible platform. nicky has one leg drawn up to his chest, with the other dangling off the platform, leaning back on his hands. oliver is sitting with both legs drawn up to his chest, balancing on the heels of his shoes. the background is pale blue-purple, with connecting rectangles behind them made up of clouds. with how the shapes are positioned, it looks like they are sitting on top of them. end ID]

#ni no kuni #ni no kuni: dominion of the dark djinn #ni no kuni oliver #ni no kuni nicky #oliver #nicky #nickiver #ruby's art

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designcloth · 6 months

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Classic meets Contemporary: Velvet Vest and Houndstooth Shoes for Women

At Sara Design, style meets comfort at every point. Our trendy yet comfortable clothing collection is designed to help you look and feel your best. With a focus on product quality, craftsmanship, and attention to detail, our clothes are made to last, ensuring you love them season after season. Shop at us today and easily enhance your wardrobe with style and comfort.

#Velvet Vest For Women #Houndstooth Shoes Women

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laufey-delia · 1 year

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My DBH headcanon(s)

So I recently received DBH as a gift, after years of being obsessed with this game, lol AND, so I thought, why not share my post game headcanon(s) here. Just to be clear, I will base my head cannon after the peaceful revolution ending.

This is a(n incomplete) list of all of my HCs !

1st HC : Connor’s siblings

I like to think that after the revolution, Connor will go back to the cyberlife tower and then discover several things: first off, in a rush, most remaining androids were destroyed, including all of his “replacements”. But, in one way or another, he will find an abandoned android that look like him. A forgotten project, if you will: RK900. The project wasn’t 100% finished, resulting in RK900 having issues; mostly sort of seizures and other problems in direct or indirect links. (I still hesitate to HC him as mute, not sure, though it is a nice concept)

In my head cannon, RK900 is like we see in the Machine Connor ending, where he replaces Connor. His name is Nines (given by Gavin, though people always call him Niles instead, assuming a typo or mispronunciation). Though, they can be differenced, especially because their personalities are very different. Connor is a puppy. Nines is a raven.

Another surprise, Connor find Connor-60 still alive. Hank had sloppily shot him right in the right-eye, effectively knocking him out for quite a long time. Maybe another bio-component was broken that led him to be knocked out for so long. Any way, he’s alive and not deviated yet, but luckily, Connor does that for him.

At first, everybody at the DPD had a hard time differentiating the two Connor, if they weren’t face to face with them. The only different was Connor-60 had a quite big scar from the bullet wound, and a permanent decolourized pupil/optical bio-component. Connor-60 slowly started to hate his name and thus opted for being called Conan (and it’s easier to know which is being called). Hank and him still have an iffy relationship, and he prefers Sumo’s company. He also joined the SWAT team. IDK, it just suits him (Captain Allen is sceptical at first, though he sees how Conan has potential) Of course, their personality is quite different. Thanks, deviancy. While Connor is a puppy as previously stated, Conan is very cold and quiet. He’s still very much like Connor’s initial personality when he hasn’t deviated yet.

They all live in Hank’s house, but it’s quite small for 4 people and a dog. That’s why Hank is secretly searching for a bigger house. Nines wants to get his own house, though, but Conan wants to stay. Who’s going to rightfully spoil Sumo if he isn’t here, after all?

Also, Hank is 100% their dad now. Go away hankcon shipper cuz this relationship is 100% father & son(s).

On a (not so) unrelated, note, Hank’s mental health also improved, as his sons really do take care of him. He still does get drunk from time to time, especially after a hard day, but it happens less and less.

2nd HC : The C-bling’s (pun intended) fashion senses.

Connor’s fashion sense:

He got that fashion sense from Hank’s own wardrobe, but with his own twist. Colourful opened flannel with usual neutral shirt under it, dress pants & shoes. Though, he recently developed a taste for ripped jeans. If he doesn’t wear his colourful flannels, then patterned sweatshirts are his must-go. Music band names? Sure. Sweatshirts with dumb jokes like: “Who needs hair on a body like this?” ? Yes. Prints like houndstooth, waves, or simply bicolour? Why not !

Conan’s fashion sense:

He doesn’t really care for such things. He’d happily keep the clothes provided by Cyberlife if it wasn’t ruined by his Thirium and very taboo for free androids!! To keep wearing such garments. So, he’d resort to any shirt found and pants, though he usually has jeans. He also has grown attached to his SWAT sweatshirt and can often be seen around the DPD wearing it. The colours are kept neutral: different shades of grey and black, very little white.

Nines’ fashion sense:

Having been deviated recently with no memory beforehand, Nines hasn’t got the chance to really explore himself. Perhaps he’s too scared for that, perhaps he’s too busy for that. So, his usual go-tos are buttoned-up shirts, or turtlenecks. He does appreciate long coats to go with everything. Like Connor, he prefers wearing dress pants. His palette is still neutral, but perhaps a bit more colourful than Conan’s: white (esp for coats. It reminds him of his Cyberlife jacket), black, grey, and if he’s feeling like it, deep blue, emerald or dark green, crimson or dark brown.

3rd HC : Nines and Gavin

Yes, I ship them. Yes, Gavin is an asshole. Yes, it is because he has issues. Luckily, Nines also has issues and is having none of his partner’s shit. Their relation get better with time passing, and their “I’m going to kill you before you kill me” slowly morphs into playful banter and inside jokes.

That’s all i can think of for now.

Byeeeee

#dbh #dbh connor #detroit become human #headcanon #dbh headcanons #nines rk900 #dbh nines #dbh sixty #connor rk800 #my headcanons #gavin reed #hank anderson #personal headcanon #fashion sense #post peaceful revolution

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igazikutya · 9 months

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Grande Traxelektor 2023/3 – „Sense”

Minden vallásban nagy szerepe van a várakozásnak, és ti, mint gyakorló traxeletoristák minden évben 12 hónapon át követhetitek, halljátok-látjátok, ahogyan gyarapszik a szelekt, hogy aztán év végén, a traxelektori szentháromság szuperszelekcióján áthaladva meghallgathassátok a mind/move/sense kompilációkat. Áldott legyen a teljesség! Xelektbe! Randomba! Krosszfédbe!

Az elektronikus zene egyik abszurduma, hogy a chill out kifejezést a legpunkabb bandának, a The KLF-nek köszönhetjük. Nem állítom, hogy chill-out válogatás a „Sense”, de ez a figyelős, hátradőlős zenehallgatás forrása. Másik érdekesség, hogy a történelmien fontos, első ambient album, a nagy Brian Eno – Music for Airports-sza ma nem férne be a legjobb 100 ambient album közé. Azért ez vicces. Harmadik évösszegző válogatásunk downtempoban mozog tehát, műfajilag ambient, drone, kortárs, experimental, dub, trip hop, field recordings, minimal, krautrock, etno elemekből építkezik. A terjedelme 140 felvétel, cirka 12 óra, és az online verzió is 11 óra felett van a maga 123 track-jével.

Grande Traxelektor 2023/3 – „Sense” – Spotify Playlist Link

[123/140, 11h 15m / 12h 10m, 87,8%]

Grande Traxelektor 2023/3 – „Sense” – Full Playlist

3.14 - Taltos Remembers Newmix [VA - Life Death Resurrection Revenge, Limbic Resonance]Actress - Oway ( f 7 )[LXXXVIII, Ninja Tune] African Head Charge - Push Me Pull You [A Trip To Bolgatanga, On-U Sound] Alva Noto - HYbr-ID Ectopia Removing Infinities [Hybr:ID II, Noton] Alva Noto - HYbr-ID Ectopia Singularity [Hybr:ID II, Noton] Ana Quiroga - We, The Witches [Azabache, Houndstooth] Ancient Plastix - Museum Of Barbed Wire [II, Maple Death] Andrea - Chessbio [Due In Color, Illian Tapes] Andrea - Jaim [Due In Color, Illian Tapes] Anthony Linell - Advanced Spiritual Evolution [Advanced Transcendent Evolution, Northern Electronics] Atom™ - Midnight Shopping [Soft Opening, NN Audio] Ayaz - Reprise [Unpinned, phase group] Beau Wanzer - STEAR [Dead Person's Monologue, iDEAL] Beau Wanzer - WARM WATERBOARDING [Dead Person's Monologue, iDEAL] Biosphere - Delta Function [Inland Delta, Biophon] Biosphere - Random Walk [Inland Delta, Biophon] Biosphere - The String Thing [Inland Delta, Biophon] Black To Comm - On the Grass Her Shoes of Deer-Skin [At Zeenath Parallel Heavens, Thrill Jockey] Blevin Blectum - Soft Death (Afresymegol)[Omnii, Deathbomb Arc] Burial Hex - A Kiss To Birth The Rotted Sun [In Hiding, Cold Spring] Burial Hex - Of Roses, Astronomers & The Falsely Accused [In Hiding, Cold Spring] Carmen Villain - Violet [Music From The Living Monument, Smalltown Supersound] Carrier - Ten by Ten [Lazy Mechanics, The Trilogy Tapes] cEvin Key - Sonic Interlude [bRap and fOrth, vol. 9, Artoffact] Chantal Michelle - Borghese Gardens September [VA - Continuing A Worn Out Tradition III, Archaic Vaults] Civilistjävel! - Kolugn [Fyra Platser, FELT] Civilistjävel! feat. Cucina Povera – Louhivesi [Fyra Platser, FELT] Coco Bryce - Make U Mine [Point Of No Return, Fresh 86] CoH - Habitable [Radiant Faults, Dais] CoH - Nereides [Radiant Faults, Dais] Cosmo Vitelli - 7 Foot Clown in My Bed (Krikor Remix)[Medhead Remixes, Im a Cliche] Cosmo Vitelli - Just Like His Dad (Froid Dub Remix)[Medhead Remixes, Im a Cliche] Dasha Rush - Hans Rivers [Contemplating, Raster] David Toop & Lawrence English - Whistling In The Dark [The Shell That Speaks The Sea, Room40] Dino Sabatini - Reversus Sum [Opera Quattro, Outis Music] Donato Dozzy & Sabla - Flusso II [Crono, Gang of Ducks] Dorisburg & Sebastian Mullaert - Bond [That Who Remembers, Spazio Disponibile] Dorisburg & Sebastian Mullaert - Deep Water Branches [That Who Remembers, Spazio Disponibile] Dorisburg & Sebastian Mullaert - Skyward [That Who Remembers, Spazio Disponibile]

Eivind Aarset & Jan Bang - Seraphine [Last Two Inches Of Sky, Punkt Editions] Elin Piel - Skog [VA - Into The Scandinavian Forest, Monument] Erwan Sene - Zones [JUnQ, PAN] Erwan Sene - Block That Kill [JUnQ, PAN] Evitceles - Reveal [Velvet Room, Opal Tapes] Fire & Adrian Sherwood - Sinnervisions [Fire, Salgari] Flesh & The Dream - Book Of Daniel Part 3 (The Image of Gold and The Blazing)[Choose Mortality, Everything Forever] Freak Heat Waves - Altered States [Mondo Tempo, Mood Hut] Froid Dub - Isla Morada [Deep Blue Bass, Delodio] Froid Dub - Original Stalker [Deep Blue Bass, Delodio] Future Sound of London, The - A Desolate Stretch Of Night Road [Environment 7.003, fsoldigital.com] Future Sound of London, The - Clear Mass 4 [FSOLdigital Presents 2023 Calendar, FSOLdigital] Future Sound of London, The - Vertical Reflections [FSOLdigital Presents 2023 Calendar, FSOLdigital] Gazelle Twin - Author of You [Black Dog, Invada] Geins't Naït & Scanner & Laurent Petitgand - MT-26 [OLA, Ici d'ailleurs] German Army - Last Habitat [Caras Rotas, Faith Disciplines] German Army - Ponapea Hentyi [Boising, IDS] German Army - Santalum Macgregorii [Boising, IDS] Greg Foat & Gigi Masin - Viento Calido [Dolphin, Strut] Harmonious Thelonious - Back from the Primitive Galaxy [Cheapo Sounds, Bureau B] Holy Tongue - Am Here In A Place Beyond Desire And Fear [Deliverance and Spiritual Warfare, Amidah] Holy Tongue - Where the Wood is The Water is Not [Deliverance and Spiritual Warfare, Amidah] Hortobágyi László - Fugamelānrāga (Banjar vādak)[6th. All India Music Conference 1990-2023 -Re-Mix Mastered Version Series Vol. 1, aMarxe] How To Dress Well - My Body (Carmen Villain's „My Body Rework”)[What Remains (Remixes), Domino] Ilija Rudman - Pulsar Diaries [Pulsar Diaries, International Feel] Jay Glass Dubs feat. Marcella - Waltz [You Would Love Me Now, Extended Techniques] Jay Glass Dubs feat. Spivak - Narcissus [You Would Love Me Now, Extended Techniques]

Khidja - Roata [Transmissions Part 1, Malka Tuti] Khidja - Under Stressure [Transmissions Part 2, Malka Tuti] Kim Oxlund - How Long Does It Last [Very Special Things, Hotham Sound] Kim Oxlund - Older Than the Sea [Very Special Things, Hotham Sound] Kurvenschreiber - Doppelwortbefehl [Licht Ausgang, Udacha] Labelle - Apporter l'amour [Noir Anima, InFiné Éditions & Eumolpe] Laibach - Lepo - krasno [Sketches Of The Red Districts, Mute] Lia Kohl - Sit on the Floor and Wait for Storms [The Ceiling Reposes, American Dreams] Loraine James - I'm Trying To Love Myself [Gentle Confrontation, Hyperdub] Loraine James - Tired of Me [Gentle Confrontation, Hyperdub] L'vovna - 07182018-02.03.05 [VA - Continuing A Worn Out Tradition III, Archaic Vaults] Maara - Yearning [The Ancient Truth, Step Ball Chain] Maps and Diagrams - Brume [A Study Of Ends Or Purpose, Handstitched] Maps and Diagrams - Slopewater [A Study Of Ends Or Purpose, Handstitched] Marmo - Fenomenologia Del Giudizio [Epistolae, Utter] Marmo - Semiotica [Epistolae, Utter] Material + Object - x6x [Telepath, Editions Mego] Mouse on Mars - Bilk A3 [Bilk, Sonig] Nihiloxica - Postloya [Source Of Denial, Crammed Discs] Nihiloxica - Trip Chug [Source Of Denial, Crammed Discs] nueen - III [Link, 3XL] nueen - IV [Link, 3XL] NVST - Fourissfourisnoanswer (The VERSION)[Filled with Oil, Les Disques Magnétiques] O Yuki Conjugate - Deep Head Scene [A Tension of Opposites Vols. 3 & 4, OYC Limited] Om Unit & Dego Rankin - Bristol Theme (V.I.V.E.K Remix)[Acid Dub Versions II, Self-Released] Oval - Wildwasser [Romantiq, Thrill Jockey] Oval - Zauberwort [Romantiq, Thrill Jockey]Palestre - Coexistència[Sciogli Assurdi, The Trilogy Tapes] Paul St. Hilaire - Little Way [Tikiman Vol.1, Kynant]Polypores - Our Tiny Orbits [Praedormitium, Castles in Space] Powell & London Contemporary Orchestra - 23 [26 Lives, Diagonal]Rainforest Spiritual Enslavement - Darkening Rain (Killer Whale Atmospheres) For Phillipe [Killer Whale Atmospheres, Hospital Productions] Rainforest Spiritual Enslavement - Grown In The Shade Of The Glacier [Killer Whale Atmospheres, Hospital Productions] Rhys Fulber - Night Render (Evitceles Remix)[Brutal Nature Redux, FR]

Saint Abdullah - Visit to the Optometrist [VA - Continuing A Worn Out Tradition III, Archaic Vaults] Saint Abdullah & Jason Nazary & Peter Eldh - Divine Timing Is Intuitive [Evicted In The Morning, Disciples] Sam Goku - Zoom Out [The Things We See When We Look Closer, Permanent Vacation] Saphileaum - Dear [Intrapersonal Experience, Good Morning Tapes] Saphileaum - Interlingua [VA - Into The Scandinavian Forest, Monument] Saphileaum - Useful Wisdom [Intrapersonal Experience, Good Morning Tapes]Scaafandre - A Ticket To Unknow [Outer Edges , Believe Digital] Scotch Rolex & Shackleton - Shattered [Death by Tickling, Silver Triplet] Shackleton - The Dying Regime [The Scandal Of Time, Woe To The Septic Heart!] Shackleton & Waclaw Zimpel feat. Siddhartha Belmannu - Your Love Pours Like Water [In The Cell Of Dreams, 7k!] She Spread Sorrow - Queen of Guilt [Orchid Seeds, Helen Scarsdale Agency] Spivak - Mid Week Ritual [You Win Again, Ecstatic] Stefan Dubs - Saudrune Dub [VA - Tones & Echoes, Egregore Collective] Suzanne Ciani & Jonathan Fitoussi - Coral Reef [Golden Apples of the Sun, Transversales Disques] Suzanne Ciani & Jonathan Fitoussi - Golden Apples Of The Sun [Golden Apples of the Sun, Transversales Disques] Suzanne Ciani & Jonathan Fitoussi - Oceanium [Golden Apples of the Sun, Transversales Disques] Terrain - Blind Spot [Corners, Varmal] The Black Dog - Beton-Brut [My Brutal Life, Dust Science] The Black Dog - Future Townscapes [My Brutal Life, Dust Science] The Black Dog - SHF Is Dead [Music For Dead Airports, Dust Science] The Black Dog - Unité d’Habitation [My Brutal Life, Dust Science] The Mole - #ew Horseplay [The River Widens, Circus Company] The Mole - Weak Stranger [The River Widens, Circus Company] The Orb & David Gilmour - Flat Side Seamlessly Martian Spheres of Reflection Mix Movement 3 [Metallic Spheres In Colour, Sony] Totek - Touchh [ttk. 1, Darker Than Wax] Ultramarine - Dawn [Send And Return, Blackford Hill] Ultramarine - Decima [Send And Return, Blackford Hill] Ultramarine - Xylonite [Send And Return, Blackford Hill] Vague Imaginaires - Onde cosmique [L'Île Volante, Versatile] Vanishing Twin - Lazy Garden [Afternoon X, Fire] Vanishing Twin - The Down Below [Afternoon X, Fire] VC-118A - Replace Image [Waves Of Change, Delsin] VC-118A - Ufonic [Waves Of Change, Delsin] VHS Head - Devour the Heart [Phocus, Skam] Vince Clarke - Red Planet [Songs Of Silence, Mute] Void - Circadian Rhythm [REM, Agos] Void - Midnight [REM, Agos] Wata Igarashi - Floating Against Time [Agartha, Kompakt] Yushh - OXI Ambigan [Siro Silo EP, Well Street]

#grand traxelektor #traxelektor #2023 #sense #underground #electronic #music #zene #intelligent dance music #spotify #playlist #compilation

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