#All my drawings been collecting dust in the draft section

[solifelessblog]

Two more days for the Dadrius week 👀 … are u all readyyy?!

[inkspiders]

“I don’t want your copy ‘n paste endearments.” - Ayumi, The Dream and the Weaver

This May, The Dread Machine released their second anthology Darkness Blooms. I was one of the lucky authors to have their story featured and, as imagery was a key theme for me, I wanted to do a mini-blog series about what inspired me alongside drawings of the characters and machines 😊

The Dread Machine’s call was for dark sci-fi stories with themes about identity, community and security.

The Dream and the Weaver follows multiple characters in a future where productivity is lauded and sleep is no longer seen as a basic right. Workers have installed in their brain a ‘Cricket’, which sits next to the amygdala. This nub processes our emotions and is connected to how we retain memories, learn new things and experience sensations.

Should someone start to fall asleep, the cricket shocks the user to induce a heightened state of anxiety and keep them awake. The humans in The Dream and the Weaver have had to adapt, but, just as the Weaver Mashoka warns:

Drain a battery too much and glitches occur. Messages ping that do not really exist. A logical outcome is not arrived at. A stutter. A freeze. The rule to protect human life cannot be properly or consistently followed if systems have slowed down.

Because of this. People have forgotten how to dream their own dreams.

Sleep is sold back to consumers. Dreams and nightmares are treated like any other form of media entertainment.

Dream sharing is managed by two machines: the Dreamer and the Weaver. The Dreamer links up to a database of pre-designed dreams. The Weaver acts as a firewall. They stop dreams from becoming nightmares and help users ease into sleep, as most no longer know how to access it naturally.

Alongside this is the Web.

Society’s tattered webs drape moonscrapers, dulling stars into embers. Thoughts and store discounts travel through membrane-clotted wires. When a child is born, they are held aloft on the roofs. A strand reaches out, tucks itself in an ear and forms a shawl, just as muslin was thrown over cradles to keep away the scary things beyond. Now the Dreamer holds us all, only masking what screeches past the city’s defenses. Nanites squirm in the folds.

Society is connected via the Web, a satellite system linking everyone’s Crickets. Advertisements are blasted into our minds. Politicians pretend they’ve been hacked when a stray, unpleasant thought is picked up by the public.

While what awaits beyond this cloak doesn’t get a mention in the story, it does appear in a future tale that will hopefully see the light of day - Gulls Are Her Crown - once it escapes my work in progress drawer.

Even though the Web links everyone in the city, isolation and loneliness is at its highest. Why waste precious time interacting with others when the good and ugly thoughts of the mass thrum under the skull?

For someone in mourning, with the roar of the mass making it even starker that one dear voice is lost, it must be maddening to live in such a society.

Ayumi, titled the Widow in this story, has found another use for the Dreamer. After the loss of her wife, she travels through the dreamscape searching for her wife's final moments with the help of a malfunctioning Weaver.

Those grieving are barred from accessing sleep in a misguided belief focusing on the waking world, the living, will heal them. Ayumi has to access sleep illegally.

Ayumi wasn’t the first character I created for this story. She was actually the third after the nameless itinerant worker in the Nightmare section and Mashoka. The Dream and the Weaver was inspired by two old drafts that were collecting dust on one of my flash drives.

The first draft, Dream at A Price, was a much darker story without the hopeful ending of The Dream and Weaver, and focused on the entertainment section. Fight clubs where users plugged into Dreamers, which were then called Dream Sharers, so injuries wouldn’t show on the body. The most extreme of battles could take place, while what the mind went through was left to fester.

The main character was the spirit of the Dream Sharer’s creator. She burrowed into the minds of those accessing the devices, setting out to destroy a machine that had originally been created to cure traumatic memories and had instead been cruelly distorted.

In The Dream and the Weaver, the living reaches out for the ghost.

Dreams were imaginations with the collar snapped off or corrupted memories turned strange and cruel by fear. The machine grasped them in its claw, tore a seam open and invited people to peer inside. All at affordable subscriptions, of course. - Old, scrapped scene from Dream at A Price

The other draft was called Dreamweaver. Humans were put under an eternal lockdown, so machines could protect and nurture the flowers A.I. had deemed superior to flesh.

Characters used Dreamweavers to hack into the machines, travelling the dreamscape to reason with the evolved A.I. in the hopes of freeing humanity. This plotline will hopefully be revived in Gulls Are Her Crown.

“They needed a new flavour dream to keep you here. That is why they installed me. I went to the place they dare not let humanity near. To the great oak tree. You saw it within me. You searched and hungered and kept calling, no matter how many times the Observers separated us.” “Trees no longer exist.” There are bone shards in my throat. The more I swallow the harder they pierce me. “We're still waiting for the miracle.” For the land to forgive us. - Old, not so scrapped scene from Dreamweaver

In The Dream and the Weaver, I wanted to focus more on the breakdown of humans/sleep as well as weaving in an emotional connection. This led to the creation of Ayumi.

For this character, Darkness Blooms' themes are shown through the loss of security and community. Her grief has caused her to break her Cricket. Ayumi begins to lose herself in the identities of the Dreamer's past users. The further she dives, the greater the risk her mind will be overwritten by second hand memories. All so she can see her wife one final time.

Throughout Ayumi’s sections, the symbolism used for her are things – machines, advertisement jingles that are near forgotten – which are dying but still have one final spark, and if that spark was nurtured it would blaze into life again.

The Dread Machine have also put up a reading playlist on Spotify. I think, out of the songs, Ayumi most relates to Homecoming – Makeup & Vanity Set and Six Feet Under – Billie Eilish.

I think it’s probably obvious what anime movie inspired me. I watched Paprika when I was around 13, which is a long, long time ago now!

Did I have any idea what was happening? No, but I loved how vibrant the film was alongside the beautiful imagery and suddenness of the ordinary being transformed by surreal imagination. I wanted to see if it was possible to get the wilderness of dreams across in the written word.

Ghost in the Shell’s aesthetic was another influence, particularly the download/upload of the ghosts (although all I’ve currently seen is the first movie and a few episodes of S.A.C. A Modest Rebellion – Android and I is my favourite one so far).

As I wanted to focus on the dream/fantasy elements of my story, I decided to research myths and tools related to sleep throughout the ages, particularly dream catchers. Also, because I am absolutely terrified of spiders, but slowly trying to get used to them by writing about them, spider imagery is common throughout my stories.

Considering spider webs are believed to be able to protect against evil forces, I thought it a good pairing: the sinister effect of a creeping spider along with dreamcatchers that are meant to soothe and protect.

Pixels flutter. Silk cocoons crack, budding with moths. The spider twitches and leaps to the window, packing webbing into its abdomen, until it squats alone in the corner. It drops, legs tickling one another as sticky string spills out. The trap is strummed, luring the moths back. They’ll never escape. I tear the web, wisps hanging from my nails, but it’s no use. The web glitches to the beginning and the spider weaves anew.

The Weaver knows what to do. It curls its remaining fingers around its face. A soft twangy noise, stilted at first, forms a basic tune. The Weaver plays itself like an instrument. Do flies hear such a song, when they come too near the web?

My next post will feature sketches of several Dreamer and Weaver models. After that, I’ll write about the second voice in this story: Seb, the magpie. His section deals with the cost of sacrificing your identity in exchange for community and security.

The Dream and the Weaver, alongside sixteen other great stories, can be read in Darkness Blooms. It is available direct via The Dread Machine’s website – ebook, print or hardcover – and I have to say the hardcover version I received as an author copy is gorgeous.

The Dread Machine | Where nightmares are manufactured.

[ilcaeryx]

Tenacity: Chapter 2 - Shaft [Bakugou Katsuki/Reader]

SUMMARY: It was impenetrable.

TAGS: Reader-Insert Collection, Action

Link to Chapter 2 of Tenacity on AO3

or continue reading below.

Chapter 2: Shaft

The darkness was dense enough that counting down the seconds until impact was impossible.

All of a sudden the freefall ended with your left side striking against a wooden construction, pain flaring up your pelvis and shoulder. It reverbed up your ribcage and leg before you hit the ground. Smack. A clear, metallic sound drilled out and quickly phased out into nothingness, your forehead blooming with pain. Through the emptiness in your ears you couldn't hear your scream, though the air did pass through your lungs and throat. You weren't sure if you were even alive; when you opened your eyes an impenetrable darkness enveloped you. Weakly, you dragged your hand in front of your face and moved your fingers. You could perceive nothing, no contrast nor movement.

Behind your ears a ringing gradually increased as you palpated your eyes frantically with your fingertips.

There's nothing wrong with them. Am I..?

Despite the protest in your body you gathered yourself up on your knees, patting your temples, ears and back of your head. Your hands were shaking violently, tapping desperately for wounds. No way you could fall this far without some injury. There was a silken softness on your hairline and when you drew your fingers to your nose you felt the unmistakeable scent of fresh blood.

A loud thrashing above you transcended into a cacophony of empty creaks when something heavy crashed down a few meters away.

In your terror, you receeded away from whatever it was. Because depending on what had fallen down the mineshaft with you, you would either die a viscious death now or later.

Please, let them remain above.

If you had to, you could fight - your Quirk was an offensive transformation type. Slowly, you clung against the stone wall and rose to your feet, ears fixed on the unknown intruder. Could you fight in the darkness, in this state? Maybe. Survive the fight itself? Probably not. The Quirk itself taxed your body quite severely, even when you were in tip-top condition.

You could feel the familiar prickle beneath your skin on your fingers and forearms, quills ready to erupt through the surface. The ringing abated as you tried to focus on the sounds around you.

It wasn't silent for long. The something let out a raspy groan from the depths of its lungs. You imagined limbs confusedly moving around the wood pieces, splinters digging into the body. A dull boom echoed when it hit the ground, accompanied by a low growl.

"Son of a bitch..!"

"Katsuki?"

"Y/N!"

IT'S HIM.

You scrambled to him, falling to your knees and crawling until you found him. With a light hand you trailed across his chest, up his neck, into his hair, searching for any clues that it really was him. Going by the unruly hair, it was. Katsuki sat halfway up, perched on his elbow.

"What the fuck are you doing, woman?" He swatted your hand away. "More importantly, are you alright?"

Your throat squeezed up. "I don't know… I think I may be blind."

"Don't fuckin' panic. It's pitch dark in here. I can't see shit either."

"I hit my head pretty hard."

Katsuki groaned as he sat upright. You grasped his hand and held his index finger against your forehead, the digit gliding softly through the blood. There was a short break in his breathing, a pause mid-inhalation that would've gone unnoticed by others.

"I can get us out." His breath spilling over your eyelashes and cheeks gave you some comfort, as did those words. You felt him move around in front of you and he hooked his right arm behind your back. In turn, you wound your right arm behind his neck. His neck muscles tensed as he rose to full height, now keeping you in a steel grip with both his hands.

"I think I can stand by myself," you said and grasped the collar of his shirt. "You're hurt too."

"Nah, I'll carry you. I've been worse."

Sometimes he came home quite mangled, so he technically wasn't lying.

His left hand left your leg. The well-known sound of miniature firecrackers set off and a tiny speck of light blew the room up into life, colouring your sight a sparkling white. You blinked in annoyance when random blotches swirled around your vision but it gave you a deep catharsis - you weren't blind.

Katsuki followed the left side of the corridor you had entered closely, relying on his memory after each blast. It was a pretty ingenious use of his Quirk. Every ten or fifteen seconds he'd create a blast of light, then he would move forward. Rinse and repeat ad nausem.

The two of you couldn't move very fast. Because this was an old mineshaft, the stone walls were bare except for wooden beams and the ground was uneven and littered with pebbles. Sometimes Katsuki would lose balance for half a second and clutch you closer out of instinct, causing your ribcage to ache. Actually, whenever he moved his torso any given bodypart would ache. Other than a sharp curse every now and then you didn't complain.

There were parts of the mineshaft system where murky water would hide the bottom. None of you could cross without putting yourselves in danger, so you avoided those sections. You weren't sure if the water wasn't contaminated either. Thus, some parts were inaccessible and you both had to go thirsty.

Eventually, the two of you took a rest. You were tucked in between a pillar and Katsuki, leaning your head against his shoulder. He kept cracking the joints on his fingers, stretching and bending them.

"Do you think those were zombies?" you asked, re-lacing your hiker boots. There had been something bothering you about this scenario. You had fallen down the mineshaft after fleeing five assholes that had attacked you two while dusk was settling in the woods. Other than five grown men ganging up on two camping adults, the strangest thing was how blasting off their limbs and hitting them with blunt weapons didn't stop them. At all. Had he been alone, you're certain Katsuki would've turned them to ashes. However, you were in a public hiking area and it hadn't rained for quite a while. Not a good idea. Thus, you had fled and ended up there.

Katsuki reflected on it and answered: "Probably not. How convenient would it be for these non-factors to appear right in the middle of fuckin' nowhere where we're at? A zombie outbreak wouldn't take place here. If anything, it's probably a villain with a Quirk."

"That has to be one of the most powerful Quirks I've ever seen, then."

He sighed and you were sure he was side-eyeing you.

"You're so easy to impress," he commented and stood up. Your hands met in the dark. Without much effort, he pulled you to your feet.

His hands were damp and you laughed quietly when your fingers glided on his skin. "God damn, your hands are slippery as fuck. You're like an eel or something."

"Let's hope I don't drop you then."

Your perception of time was essentially non-existent. These identical corridors provided no clue whatsoever to how much time had passed.

In fact, your first inclination of a clue had been a humid draft hitting you, drawing your hair away from your face.

"Yo," you pulled on Katsuki's shirt to catch his attention. "Do you feel that? We're close to the entrance."

Katsuki fired off a light blast, the corridor developing into a larger space further up ahead. The blast only lit up a few meters into the room but it was definitely a broader space than the corridors.

"Stay low and be quiet," Katsuki whispered in your ear and slowly let you down.

Katsuki traced the wall with one hand, keeping the other hand outstretched in front of him. Warily, listening for suspicious noise from behind aswell as in front, he crept up to the entrance. He couldn't feel the breeze anymore, though a faint hiss came from one of the two entrances, or both. It sounded like wind wafting through leaves.

The build-up to the flash explosion made his palm itch. Compared to the output he usually worked with, it was almost imperceptible. Since the flash explosion was a lesser version of the Stun Grenade it didn't require as much nitroglycerin and time but if he didn't have to he wouldn't continously use it. There were, with 100% certainty, more of those zombie motherfuckers outside.

Flash one. Room was around ten by five meters with two exits on the opposite side. Spread out in the room were many pieces of what possibly could be mine equipment. No movements.

He held his breath and cocked his head to the left, listening. Nothing from behind, at least.

Katsuki created another flash, taking note of the terrain and advancing towards the middle of the room. Airflow was definitely increasing now.

Suddenly, footsteps about seven meters ahead in the darkness. Hand-to-hand, concentrating the boiling on his palm to the size of a quarter, he charged an AP Shot and fired. It lit up a path straight to an exit, the explosion ripping through a piece of the wall, gravel and dust spewing out. No time to see if it hit. Katsuki loaded the next shot, adjusting his aim to the left. Through the build-up a shrill shriek alerted him, followed by the the contour of something moving in the dark. Boom!

Next shot fired off, he heaved himself over a machine and dashed forward. Half a second of light revealed a man-shaped figure furiously charging towards him, tendrils of smoky dust clinging to the upper part of the torso. In the weak afterglow of the AP shot, his caninas glared before disappearing into nothingless.

If Katsuki couldn't stop him from breathing, he would at least stop him from moving.

He shot off another AP Shot, the left arm ripped off from the body. When Katsuki caught the man stumbling forward, he grinned.

Game over.

Turning his palms behind him and jumping into the air, he blasted himself high enough to almost hit the ceiling and descended upon the fucker. A close-contact explosion to the face would disintegrate his nervous system.

Too god damn easy.

In his right palm, the incoming charge illuminated the space beneath him. There was nothing there.

His heart dropped to his stomach.

"Katsuki?" He heard you scream.

The distinct sound of footsteps continued behind him

When his feet hit the floor, he was on the move. He loaded a weak shot meant to distract.

But it was too late.

The man's feet were dangling limply above the floor, torso and head completely penetrated by dozens of quills, thick as cucumbers. With a sickening, slick sound the head detached from its body.

Your Quirk, under the right circumstances, was very effective.

If you liked this, consider throwing me a like/reblog/follow! My Masterlist can be found here.

[jessicaptain]

For at least the past year, I was consistently told, demanded, and jokingly harangued to join the pedal RACING men on this unofficial-yet-has-an-official-name ride Tuesday and Friday mornings near Cherry Creek State Park. And for eleven months, I found excuses to avoid it: “Gotta work,” “maybe next time,” and my favorite: “one of these days, I’ll join you.”

I knew it was a sausage fest and the thought of hammering out the watts elbow-to-elbow with testosterone-pumping broski bros didn’t turn me on like it did my male counterparts.

I didn’t see the benefit of waking up at the asscrack of dawn, trying to find the elusive meeting spot, only to potentially make a fool out of myself or crash or hell, maybe both.

Then one of my female pedal RACING teammates swallowed her pride and dropped all apprehension and joined the dudes. After seeing her activity glittered with kudos and Strava bling, I had immediate FOMO. Kinda what social media does to us, right?

All the encouragement and positive comments convinced me that, sure, I can at least give it a try once to see what it’s all about. Not to mention the fact that this season as a Cat 3 has been exceptionally soul-crushing and challenging watching my competitors leave me in the dust as I suck [wind].

From all the mediocre finishes, I was desperately seeking another type of training that’d increase my speed, skills, and maybe confidence. The pedal RACING guys had been telling me the past year how PHP would make me faster and it wasn’t until I saw my female pedal teammate speak highly of this impervious ride-but-actually-it’s-a-race-for-us-newbies that I realized, “shit, if I try to ride [operative word being “try”] this with faster people, maybe I’ll get faster.” Sure, we all have to figure these things out on our own.

So I hardened the fuck up (Rule #5) and on May 22nd, I joined my first PHP ride. The meet-up was on the bridge at Cherry Creek and Holly. I didn’t see a single person when I drove past looking for a parking spot. Am I in the right spot? I frantically thought.

I parked alongside the road and scanned passing cyclists for any hint of a gathering. I applied my chamois cream, buckled my helmet, slid on my shades, and started my Garmin as I attempted to look like I knew what I was doing and where I was going.

I slowly rolled up to the bridge five minutes ‘til and there were two dudes hanging out. Seriously, five minutes before and no one is here? I’m totally at the wrong spot. I finally mustered up the courage to ask one of the guys if this was the meeting spot for PHP. He smiled, “yep.”

And like clockwork, 60 (that’s a rough estimate) cyclists appeared out of nowhere. Just in time to Hammer. I found my teammates who were both shocked and excited to see me finally own up to my word. Then the game plan was laid out for me: “this is just the warm-up before we get to the park.” “Watch out for the potholes. It’s the worst right here.” “You’ll get dropped up the first hill. It happens to everyone. Just wait at the top for the group to come back.” “Oh, the ‘S’ turn. You want to be toward the front because it’s like an accordion. If you’re on the back at the ‘S’ turn, you’ll get dropped. That’s what happened to me.”

Loads of tips were offered as I tried keeping pace during their “warm-up.” Of course I wouldn’t keep up at the first hill. It was race-pace for me. I could only speak a few words before another giant breath.

“The fuck did I get myself into,” I thought, as we made our way down Colorado Blvd.

We rolled into a parking lot just outside of Cherry Creek State Park to reconvene. I was told sometimes they broke into A and B groups. This time they didn’t. A couple of other teammates showed up and we started rolling out as a giant peloton-ish group.

As soon as wheels touched the perimeter of Cherry Creek, it was full gas. I picked a Jersey in front of me and held on. Luckily, drafting kept me on the pace line.

The group rides the Cherry Creek Time Trial course, which I’m quite familiar with, so I knew where the hills were and sections of the road to avoid. As the first Hill was coming up, I kicked it down a gear (high cadence, lower power) and tried to keep up with the quickening pace.

Men flew by me on my left, they flew by on my right, and the rest of us left on the hill, pushed and pulled on our pedals, trying in vain, to reach the top of the hill before the peloton was completely gone. Our heavy and rapid breathing became a choir of novices and determination.

I was dropped.

The peloton was nearly at the bottom of the hill by the time I recovered. My buddy, Zuzana, and I, collected ourselves, and followed the group down the road.

We watched the giant mob grow smaller and smaller and just like that, it was like the group of 50 men were never there.

Too proud to not do the full route, I zoomed around the lollipop loop with a couple of other stragglers. We formed a small group of three as we pedaled up the second Hill (which, on later rides, I would eventually be dropped) desperately seeking the peloton.

We didn’t even know what direction they went, so we guessed. We didn’t know which road to take to get back to our cars either. As we biked back to the entrance of Cherry Creek, we saw several dropped riders, like discarded litter on the side of the road. One man was headed back to the elusive meeting spot where he was also parked, so we jumped on his wheel.

The meeting spot was as bare after the ride as it was before.

As soon as I was back to my car and uploaded my ride to Strava, the kudos, the bling, and the comments poured in. I PR’d segments on the route I didn’t even realize.

I saw the others with whom I started the ride and kudo’d them. It was like I had been initiated into a secret society that anyone who follows them on Strava knows about. My own friends asked what PHP was and I had to tell them I had no idea what it stood for, but… then I’d detail the crazy ride I experienced.

I’ve since started commuting to PHP with a few men from my team. It’s about ten miles from the Littleton meeting spot to the PHP meeting spot. The guys told me it’s also a warm-up to PHP, but by the time we get to the bridge, I’m drenched in sweat, I’ve QOM’d segments, and my glasses are foggy from my warm face. Then PHP commences. I follow that with a ride on Cherry Creek path to work. I end up clocking in about 54 miles by the end of the day.

I’ve only seen a few other women ride at PHP, notably two Cat 2 women from Palmares who seem to be regulars. I could see why this would intimidate anyone who just started racing: you’ve 60 amateur cyclists trying to be like the pros, riding on public roads, 99% are dudes, testosterone is raging, and you’re privy to crashes.

One time I joined a B group actually formed. Some people think the B group is slower, but I work harder in this group because I actually get a turn to pull. It was both a good and bad experience. It was good because it was bad. It taught me how to handle myself and my bike around people who didn’t.

The men didn’t understand how a paceline worked and once they came to the front, they’d take off. The group would break up, there were no longer two lines, and we had to reel them back in. Halfway through the the route, I was sick of no one calling them out and I was concerned for my safety. I finally asked this one older dude, dressed in his green PHP kit (to prove his seriousness and dedication to an elusive bro’s club), if he was part of the paceline because he kept shooting off the front.

He growled back at me, “I’ve been doing this for ten years. Don’t tell me what to do!” Now, 18-year-old Jessica would have opened a bottle of verbal whoopass. 29-year-old Jessica swallowed her pride and bit her tongue hard enough to draw blood. Instead, I told him, “calm down, it’s just a ride.” Another teammate of mine tried to settle him down as well as a Palmares racer rode next to me and very loudly said, “For what it’s worth, you’re fucking right and he’s wrong.”

I tried to not let the dickhead ruin the rest of the ride. But it also made me realize it’s guys like that who turn women off from joining PHP. To men, it seems like it’s all about comparing not just dick sizes, but bikes. I know women can be combative, catty, and of course, competitive. But for a woman to join PHP, it’s much more than riding with the bros. We want to get faster. Stronger. We want to learn skills. And there aren’t many opportunities for a woman to do that in a big group setting. When there are women’s workshops, we’re lucky to hit double digits.

I think the fear is what I worry about each time I go to PHP: being the only one who can’t keep up. Getting in a crash. Not having anyone I know there.

Luckily, I have teammates who care about my wellbeing and are great examples of how to treat others in the peloton. They hold their line, they call their pass, they tell me where I need to go.

Each time I’ve joined PHP, I’ve been able to stay with the group longer, which says something about where my fitness is going. My good cyclist friend, Anna, tells me all the time to ride with guys because it’ll make me faster. And I think I found the guys who will do just that.

The post PHP: voluntarily kicking your own ass before the sun comes up appeared first on Jessica McWhirt.

[airadam]

Episode 100 : We Made It.

"One hundred on the percentage, I don't talk split..."

- Q-Ball

Wow, what a milestone! In the early days of the show I didn't know we'd still be here after this long, but focusing on just producing one show at a time has paid off. Every month I feel like I must have run out of tunes, but one hundred months in....not quite yet ;)

Thanks so much to all of you for taking the time to listen. Please spread this one far and wide!

Twitter : @airadam13

For this month's charity draw (check the end of the show for details), the website to donate to is MSF, entries close on the 21/10/2017. 

Playlist/Notes

Air Adam & Mega Ran : Pacman

Hitting you with a special right out of the gate! This is one of my own beats, done many moons ago when my man Kev 80s asked if I could make something out of sounds from the "Pacman" arcade machine. I sampled some audio out of an arcade emulator into the MPC and got busy; when I played it for Kev over the phone, he went out of his mind! I knew I had something, and I got this beat pressed onto a dubplate which some of you will have heard me pull out and play occasionally over the years. I've always thought it deserved some lyrics, and I was honoured to have Mega Ran bless it for a 100th episode special. Not only is he an ill MC, but one who knows his video games and has been a real pioneer in flipping gaming sounds and themes to devastating effect! No hook, just straight bars for you - I really hope you enjoy this one as much as I do every time I hear it :)

Visioneers : Apache (Battle Dub)

My man Bane pointed me in the direction of the Hipology 7" set by Marc Mac's Visioneers, and it's a nice five-disc, ten-track set paying respect to Hip-Hop's influence in his life. There's a mixtape of it on Bandcamp, but it's worth getting the full release! To start off a mini-theme in this part of the show, we go with their take on the classic track "Apache", a true foundation break of Hip-Hop. If you want a bit more background on it, check the film "Sample This"!

Ilajide : Apache 2

This man is one of my favourite producers of the last few years, and here he kills it with a great flip of the Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five version of "Apache"(you can just hear him letting it play as I blend the track in). Slowed, chopped, and with some added ODB flavour, it's a monster that on its own makes a purchase of "Five Week Heet IV" worth it!

Nas : Made You Look

A lot of people like to talk down on Nas' beat selection, but in my opinion you have to give him this; whenever he needs to drop that one big street single, he can. "Nas Is Like"? "Get Down"? "The Don"? That's just three off the top of my head, and this one could well go ahead of all of them. Salaam Remi flips that "Apache" breakbeat but making it slower and more menacing and Nas is on top form setting out his stall on this first verse. When this track dropped it got everyone open for "God's Son", and you can guarantee crowd response in a Hip-Hop club when the hook hits. Just one verse here, then blending during the hook into a killer remix...

Nas ft. Styles P and Ludacris : Made You Look (Remix)

Eleven synonyms for "gun" in just the first three bars of his verse is what stands out for me on Nas' closer right here. You have to bring it when you get a verse like Ludacris' preceding lyrics, and while you don't hear it on this episode, Styles P also got it done. This remix was killing the net and mixtapes when it came out but to the best of my knowledge, it never got an official release - if you know otherwise, get at me!

Aim & QNC ft. Grand Puba and Sean Price : We Don't Play (Curt Cazal Remix)

A great union of Grand Central-connected acts, along with some big guests! The original from the "The Habit of a Lifetime (And How to Kick It)" LP with Aim's production is dark, but Curt Cazal takes the darkness in a completely different direction for this remix. Treat yourself with a bit of extra volume for this cut because even with just two bass notes every couple of bars, it definitely bumps! Lyrically, all the verses are solid but as usual, I think Sean P takes it. Also check the homage being paid to EPMD, first with the opening bars, and on the hook too!

Seanie T, Karl Hinds, Jeff3, and Skeme : Had E-Nuff

I can't count the times I wanted to play this on the show but just wasn't happy with the mix! From Seanie T's Western-themed "The Blacknificent 7" superteam (just four on this track) we have this thumping AA-side with all MCs sounding seriously vex over a Karl Hinds beat. The Guru sample for the hook is just the icing on the cake!

DJ Spinna : Fancy Pants

Always here for a DJ Spinna beat, and this is an old one which has only just become available. The "Unpicked Treats Volume 1" collection on Bandcamp is made up of unreleased beats from 2005 to the present, and if you're a fan it's definitely one to check. This track has that trademark squelchy keyboard low end he does so well.

Redman : Tonight's Da Night

From Red's debut "Whut? Thee Album", we take the start of the jazzy third single, which has a lyrical switchup after the first few bars, and then do a little switch of our own...

Royal Flush : Best Type Of Rapper

...into this - I did this transition once live and the crowd went mad calling for the rewind! Big tune from the 2005 "Street Boss" album by Queens' Royal Flush. I haven't been able to find a producer credit for this one, but it's an energetic, horn-laden track over a classic break with Flush's staple street braggadocio delivered with what is still a low-key flow.

Naughty By Nature : Craziest

In a time when Hip-Hop was much more localised (and NY-centric) than it is now, the all-area respect theme of this track was a rarity; the video does a great job conveying it too. A fantastic but in my opinion, under-appreciated single from the "Poverty's Paradise" LP. NBN self-produce the track, and the particular combination of sounds like little else while also being very comfortable/familiar somehow. Treach and Vinny then proceed to get amped on the verses (did Treach ever get his money from Jermaine?), and the hook is straight classic. I'd love to hear a Leeds, Manchester, or just a UK version of this one!

DJ Quik ft. B-Real : Fandango

I think this is an amazing tune, and I love to find opportunities to play it when I DJ. The first full track on the "Trauma" LP, it's just big sounding and driving, with the horns taking centre stage and reminding you of an HBCU marching band - if you can't get live to this one, you should seek medical attention!

DJ Quik ft. B-Real : Fandango (Live at the House of Blues)

There aren't that many live Hip-Hop albums so being able to do a mix like this is rare, but taking the opportunity to catch that crowd energy is a winner. This is from the "Greatest Hits : Live at the House of Blues" album, which was recorded in February 2006 and is a release absolutely worth having in your collection! B-Real's killer second verse gets the crowd hype here and Quik brings it home strong, while the band do an excellent rendition of Quik's original production.

Showbiz & A.G. : Silence Of The Lambs (Remix)

Claaassic Diggin In The Crates product right here. The original cut on "Runaway Slave" is dope, but this remix is just incredible. Those blaring, almost discordant horns scream to be heard over Showbiz' wicked drum sampler programming, before settling down into the groove of the verses. This is the time when both members were getting on the mic, before Showbiz (now just Show) decided to focus on his work behind the boards. He could easily have carried on, but given that he's responsible for beats like "Sound Of Da Police", he can be forgiven for rationing his time. One aside - check the low, distorted evil laugh during the hook!

Chemical Brothers : Chico's Groove

The Chemical Brothers' "Exit Planet Dust" was a huge debut release, which came to the attention of me and mine via the use of several tracks on Channel 4's NBA coverage back in the day :) While they're primarily a dance act, there were some more laid back cuts on the album, and this was a standout for me - the feel of the first part of the track before the bass section comes in is just gorgeous.

The Mouse Outfit ft. Black Josh and TrueMendous : It's Like That

New track from a Manchester crew who continue to go from strength to strength - if this is any indication of what their next album will sound like, they're onto another winner! Chini's beat is chilled but the drums snap, and as always the right MCs are drafted in to grace the track. Black Josh has been working with The Mouse Outfit for a while and delivers some solid lyrics, but is at least matched by the dextrous TrueMendous out of Birmingham, who shines on this one!

Camp Lo ft. Mecca : Sky Box

The closing track on Camp Lo's second album, the appropriately-named "Let's Do It Again", this gentle Jocko-produced track is a tribute to loved ones Sonny and Geechi have lost along the way. One of the rare five-star tracks on my iPods.

Tall Black Guy : Broken Lies

A little something from the "Mini Therapy Chops 3" single by TBG, laid back but very tech with the drum programming, throwing in some great rolls and cymbal work!

Raekwon ft. Ghostface Killah : Rainy Dayz

Ok - I don't know if this is definitely my favourite Hip-Hop song, but is absolutely my favourite song on my favourite Hip-Hop album, the mighty and must-own "Only Built 4 Cuban Linx...". A beautiful, dark, twisted beat from RZA in his golden period is the perfect setting to hear Rae and Ghost talk about being stuck in the drug business, with Blue Raspberry killing the vocals as the woman left at home worrying about her man. RZA cites it as one of his favourites, and with good reason. As far as my own relationship with this track; a) I played this once a day minimum for at least six months after buying the album, and b) that part where the audio seems to disappear towards end is the cue burn I put on this vinyl learning how to rock doubles on some highly unsuitable turntables!

Jan Hammer : It's Over

A short instrumental from the "Cocaine Cowboys" soundtrack. An amusing story about that OST is that the producers of the film were nervous about asking Jan Hammer to do something in the vein of "Miami Vice", in case he took offence and declared he'd moved past all that; as it tuned out, he had all the old synths upstairs ready to get busy!

Rakim : Bring It On

Very little available info on this one. It appears to be a remix of a 1995 track produced by Dominic Owen, but neither version was ever released. The sound quality on the white label compilation I have is pretty awful, but I tried to add a little top end to the EQ to counteract the worst of the muddiness. Rakim is in aggressive mode over a hard beat that definitely could have gone down well at the time, when the rugged East Coast sound was popular. This is the kind of relative rarity I love to share with you all!

Please remember to support the artists you like! The purpose of putting the podcast out and providing the full tracklist is to try and give some light, so do use the songs on each episode as a starting point to search out more material. If you have Spotify in your country it's a great way to explore, but otherwise there's always Youtube and the like. Seeing your favourite artists live is the best way to put money in their pockets, and buy the vinyl/CDs/downloads of the stuff you like the most!

Check out this episode!