#Pedal Pawn

[favemusiclessons]

Mind-Blowing Blues Guitar Solo Hack! (Simple Trick)

I don't know who needs to hear this, but...

[guitarbomb]

Pedal Pawn BluesPrint based on SRV 's Tube Screamer

Pedal Pawn BluesPrint Dual Overdrive, inspired by Stevie Ray Vaughan Tube Screamer. This stompbox is a dual-channel drive pedal designed to capture the essence of SRV’s “juiciest mid-hump overdrive tone” while offering a fresh tonal perspective. Crafted by Obsession Pedal Pawn owner Chris King Robinson, a touring guitarist, embarked on a quest for the perfect dual overdrive. His journey led to…

[spot-the-antisemitism]

Reading this book, which the pro-Palestinian movement championed and a quick search of the author showed he's Israeli OK, so I decided to see what "myths" he decided to counter

Ok sure, yeah, I dont think anyone really think Israel before its establishment was empty. From other blogs Ive seen, it's already pointed out that there were Arabs in present Israel. But the entire chapter just skates over Ottoman/Arab imperialism of the Holy Land and then just say: all of sudden, Palestine was a prosperpus Muslim land

This is going off the wrong footing, I say. The chapter seems to suggest that Christianity invented Judaism and the idea of the Jewish people. In a way, this entire chapter seems to propagate the idea Zionism is the idea of Christians, not the Jewish people. Ironically, it just makes out the Jewish people as mere pawns of Christianity and that the entire Zionism project is Christianity's idea. The chapter generally omits Jewish indigenity to Israel and other archaeological evidence.

Im skipping over the other myths like "Zionism is Judaism", "Zionism is Not Colonialism", "the Palestinians left voluntarily", "the 1967 war was a war of no choice".

"Israel is the only democracy in the Middle East" - the first half mainly covers and claims how Israel is actually an authoritarian state just because it has military conscription and the everyday IDF soldier can overlord over an ordinary Palestinian

On the chapter: "Israel is the only democracy in the Middle East" - the first half mainly covers and claims how Israel is actually an authoritarian state just because it has military conscription and the everyday IDF soldier can overlord over an ordinary Palestinian

"Israel is not a democracy because it actively kills Palestinians during its existence" - Er, Im not sure how that argument holds because, well, the US is still a democracy but also kills people so well. So do they expect a democracy *not* to kill people? Yeah, I know there are issues about Israel's treatment of Palestinians as an occupier of the West Bank, but that does not in any way demote Israel's status as a democracy

Oslo chapter: I take more issue with the claim that Egypt and Jordan were willing to "legitimise the Israeli's takeover of Palestine" because its just fluff to say: they invaded Palestine to prevent Israel from being established and they lost

"The idea to partition is a Zionist idea and the Arabs boycotted partitioned efforts" - the Arabs has zero intentions of allowing Israel to exist. To them, Palestine is Arab

Im dead. The author, as "an Israeli historian" claims Hamas is a legitimate resistance organisation. Im so done with this book

...Were there even Jewish settlers in Gaza before the withdrawal? And oh look another "Gaza is a concentration camp" claim

Curious to note how the Palestinian struggle is actually 150 years. Not 76 years as the mainstream Palestinian movement claim. And yeah, pushing the idea that Israel should change it mind

The last chapter on the Two-State solution (and its conclusion) just go on to rant about how Israel is a settler state and we should recognise that Israel is evil (and imply Israel should be destroyed) as we toss the two-state solution into the bin

In all, the book is a nothingburger really. Just pedalling various pro-Palestinian myths about Israel (ironically, for a book claiming to dispel myths about Israel) and throwing any nuances out of the window. And this is supposedly written by an Israeli

Well, an Israeli leftist. But perhaps have gone so far down the spiral and became a self-hating Israeli

Two things, 150 years ago there was a movement by Muslim arabs to separate from Ottoman Turkey so yes the struggle is longer than “when the Jews came”.

there were NO jews in Gaza before the six days war war because Gaza was Egypt then and Egypt forbid Jews there. Occupying the Sinai was seen not as s strategic buffer zone but elaborate revenge and abuse by inflicting Egyptian arab Muslims with having to not only live WITH Jews but be temporarily ruled by them

also love the infantilizing of “Jews have no power, they are Christian pawns against Muslims”, his tankie students in exeter must Looove to hear that he has no power and they control him snd other jews

He’s an ex-pat.

while you did an excellent breakdown on the book, I looked up the author

Did he flee or was exiled? The tankies that run Wikipedia won’t tell me

Womp womp womp

let’s see what landed him here. I bet it’s the book

It’s not?! Huh so he’s a BDS shill that moonlights for SJP. Wonder which one of his two patrons commissioned the book. Remember this guy sees himself as nothing but a pawn for goyim

HE WAS EXILED FOR ATROCITY PROPAGANDA!!!!

case closed, propaganda dismissed. He does not speak in my name

[zagreus]

i think it's so funny that a music gear site asked the king gizzard boys what fancy pedals and amps they used in studio on Flight b741 and basically got the answer "oh we just cranked the hell out of some cheap narsty little practice amps we got from a pawn shop and liked the sound :)"

[freebirdsworldburritos]

The classism in the "music gear" scene is fucking atrocious. So many people will shit on other people for using affordable gear as a way to justify within themselves that dropping $3,000 on a guitar was a smart financial move.

About 3-4 years ago I joined a band and a month after I joined we went on some video podcast. Play a few songs, do an interview, something I've never done before but it seemed like it'd be fun.

I wasn't able to really get a word in during the interviews (stuttering/speech impediment/anxiety issues ran wild) but I was able to speak up whenever the host went around and asked us what our favorite instrument/gear brands were. Weird question, but alright buddy.

I've always been a fan of cheaper gear. You don't need all sorts of expensive shit to get the sound you want. So when he asked my answer was "Squier" and the dude just started laughing. Because who possibly would prefer one of the cheaper brands??? (Keep in mind this douche had a whole wall of the absolute worst looking collection of custom shop BC Rich guitars you've ever seen.)

Eventually he backed down once I started arguing with him about it, but his immediate elitist attitude really struck a cord in me because I see that shit all over the internet in music communities. "Oh you only like Squiers/Epiphones/Harley Bentons because you can't afford BIG BOY guitars like a $5,000 Gibson".

Fuck right off with that shit. Why would I pay thousands of dollars for a guitar when I can get something that works amazingly for me for just a few hundred dollars? The extra money I save by not dropping 4 figures on a guitar or amp goes towards paying my bills, feeding my kids, just trying to fucking live and exist.

At this point I've had to sell 99% of my music gear after over a decade of following the gear chase. I only have a "cheap" acoustic I bought several years ago for $350 and it's the best guitar I've ever had. I love my little busted neck Hummingbird to death.

I'm much happier now than I was when I had a huge assortment of pedals and guitars to choose from. The Gear Chase is designed to make you want to spend more and more money in an endless pursuit of finding that "perfect" piece of gear. Guitar companies, partnered youtubers, influencers, and all sorts of advertisement campaigns are purposefully trying to misguide you into thinking you NEED their product. It's marketing and capitalism at work and so many musicians fall for it every time. I fell for it for years before I got completely fed up with it.

Go out and gig with your Squier Bullet Strat and a cheap amp you found at a pawn shop, fuck anyone that gives you shit for it. Go ahead and record with whatever you have at your disposal. Put out an album that's comprised of Voice Memos you recorded on your phone with just an acoustic and your voice.

Music, like any art, is about way more than what you used to get there. It's how you express yourself that really matters. Don't listen to the elitists and marketers telling you the only way you can authentically reach your creative vision is by buying their snake oil.

[fuzzkaizer]

CBS Arbiter - WAH-FUZZ-SWELL

"The front 'power driver' logo appears to be missing & a footswitch / pot have been replaced (originals included in the sale) along with other potential minor service components."

enclosure structurally integrates various points for possible mounting of the PCB

cred: reverb.com/Pedal Pawn

[ktamina]

09/30/08 - Mick 7 answers your questions!

This is an old interview of Mick (#7) that I found, enjoy!!

Hey, I am like, the UK's number 1 Slipknot fan, and have always wanted to know, what inspired your mask design?

Matthew Fulton- 14

MICK: Nothing. I had my original latex hockey mask way back and then my leather one and I was using those designs and it morphed into what it is now. There isn’t something crazy creative about it.

Hey Mick! I just want to let you know that you are a huge inspiration to me. You were one of the reasons I picked up a guitar, B.C Rich 7 string Warlock as my own first purchase, and got serious about it. My question is, how do you get new ideas for riffs and solos. I've made a couple of my own songs, but I always get stuck trying to make cool catchy riffs or solos. Got any advice?

Jim- 16

MICK: Yes. Don’t over-think it. Just let it happen. Things come out. If you try and plan or force it will sound forced or dishonest. I never try and over-think a direction whatever comes out 1st time I play it comes out. I never spend a ton of time thinking because it sounds forced. If you spend too much time thinking about it, it won’t sound like you. Don’t try and sound like someone else.

How does it feel to be getting back to work with the rest of Slipknot after a 3 year hiatus? Did it feel great knowing you were going to be back behind the mask and in a recording studio once again or was it just the same as it was 3 years ago?

Matt Haynes- 16

MICK: Things are always different when doing a new record. You are a different person than you were years ago. I don’t think in those terms. I just do what I do! But yes it felt good getting back to work.

What has been your scariest nightmare?

Paul Hawkins- 16

MICK: I wouldn’t say I have had a scariest nightmare but it would probably be something that deals with me not having genitals anymore…

If you could play any other role except Rythym/Lead guitarist in the band which would it be?

Bryan Lares

MICK: I wouldn’t.

What was the biggest culture shock you experienced in a foreign country during SK a tour?

Marcelle Andrade- 21

MICK: Being forced to shit into an ornate porcelain hole in the ground in Japan. OR having a warm stream of water tickle my asshole from the bidet in my hotel, also in Japan.

Mick, what advice would u give to young metal musicians trying to get our band noticed without reverting to the typical main stream sound?

Alex Munro- 16

MICK: Music should be honest, it should be an extension if you. You shouldn’t try and achieve a sound. It should just be you and not what you are trying to manufacture. We didn’t pay attention to the trends at the time when we wrote. We did what we felt and that is what you should do. You should play music for you and not to be noticed.

I'm Marina. OK I know that you probably get this question asked a lot by fan-girls but are you single, and can i ask u out on a date if you are :) ?

Marina Spevak- 25

MICK: Send pictures and I will get back to you.

Hi Mick! What Pedals do you use for Before I Forget and Heretic Anthem, and what Guitar would you recommend for a O.K Metal player at good price (like below $400)?

Alex Hayden

MICK: I don’t use pedals on either one of those songs or any pedals of any kind. But if its distortion you are referring to I just have a tube head turned up loud. There isn’t one really so buy used. You can’t get anything new that price worth anything. Look at pawn shops and buy a decent used early to late 90’s Ibanez especially an RG 570.

Hey micl! I'm from Iran. First you should know you've got MANY fans in Iran! Seriously. :D My question is what's the meaning of the tattoo on your arm? The Asian one…

Sohrab Alimardani- 18

MICK: It means hate in Japanese.

What do you think is the meaning of life?

Krista

MICK: Life is without meaning. And we are all totally insignificant in the whole scheme of things.

Just touring with slipknot but be crazy but what is the single most brutal moment you can recall while on tour?

Shawn Jarvis- 15

MICK: Watching a guy die in a police chase about 100 feet in front of me...

[thekingofgear]

Jonny Greenwood's Electric Cello Setup

Shots from the Smile's performance of You Know Me! at the BBC 6 Music Festival in Manchester on March 9, 2024.

During The Smile's tour rehearsals in March, we made a post detailing the band's setup. But at that point, Jonny still hadn't played an electric cello publicly, it was only seen resting on a stand. Since then, the band has played about a dozen shows, and for each one Jonny has brought out the cello to play You Know Me! and Instant Psalm.

The cello in question is a Yamaha SVC-110SK Silent Cello. With a recommended retail price of £3,630.00, it's certainly much more expensive than the regular, "acoustic" cello that Jonny played during the studio recording of Wall of Eyes (if memory serves, Jonny bought that instrument at a pawn shop for ~£200). However, the electric cello avoids the feedback problems that are common when mic'ing a regular cello on stage.

Polaroids of Jonny playing his acoustic cello during the recording of the album Wall of Eyes (The Smile).

Jonny bowing his SVC-110SK Silent Cello at the BBC 6 Music Festival. Note the Yamaha logo on the chest support. The cello-shaped frame differentiates it from Yamaha's other Silent celli that use lower bout leg supports instead, such as the SVC-210SK and SVC-50.

Jonny's Cello Pedalboard

For the March tour, Jonny connected his cello to a small pedalboard. The pedalboard's output is doubtless connected through a DI box to the FOH mixer and PA. The board features just three pedals:

Peterson StroboStomp HD tuner

Boss RE-20 delay

Electro-Harmonix 720 looper

At the start of You Know Me!, Jonny plays open harmonic glissandi in much the same way as on live performances of Pyramid Song since 2006 (originally, Colin played the harmonics on his double bass). Jonny uses the Electro-Harmonix 720 to loop these harmonics, allowing him to layer additional playing on top of them. The RE-20 is used how you'd expect: to enrich the sound.

Jonny's harmonic bowing and pedal stomping on that track can be seen very clearly in this video by Stanislav Rastvorov, from the band's performance in London on March 10.

On Instant Psalm, Jonny uses the Electro-Harmonix 720 to record a loop before the song begins, while Thom is still giving a spoken intro. He can be seen doing so in this video by noise_jam, from the band's performance in Amsterdam on March 16. After recording, he switches to bass guitar for the rest of the track. Jonny stops and reintroduces the loop a couple of times throughout the song.

Another shot from You Know Me! at the BBC 6 Music Festival. Note Jonny's right foot resting near the Electro-Harmonix 720 looper.

Note: when first posted, we accidentally listed the Boss RE-20 on the cello board as a Boss DD-200.

[perpetuallylate1890]

A short Bill fic!

Just a Little Arson

As far as pawns went, Stanford was as good as it got. After some buttering up, good ol’ Fordsy had played right into Bill’s hands, abandoning all other projects to work on the portal. The sucker had even handed Bill free rein of his mind and body.

Stanford Filbrick Pines was the perfect man for the job, but not all was well in paradise. Yesterday, one of the gnomes had let slip about their little library, tucked away in the enchanted woods and watched over by the Shmebulocks. 

Ford, massive nerd that he was, wanted to investigate. It would’ve been cute if it weren’t for the contents of the library: Bill knew it contained numerous unfavorable, though not undeserved, descriptions of himself. The last thing he needed was his puppet growing wise, so as Sixer dropped off into sleep, Bill resolved to do something about it.

The possession was easy. Bill settled into Ford’s body, wiggling his fingers and toes. He blinked his eyes one at a time. Blah, the two eyes were still disorientating. Even worse was the weight of gravity, dragging him down. When he took control, he was chucking that first.

Grasping a chair for balance, he staggered to his feet. Walking took some getting used to, as did his inability to pass through walls. And breathing was just hilarious. Apparently, you had to keep breathing to keep your meatsack conscious. Only made that mistake once!

He staggered towards the elevator like a drunken ragdoll. Of course, he managed to get Ford’s long coat trapped in the elevator doors. Bill was always telling Sixer to ditch the jacket, but did he listen? Noooo. After extricating himself, Bill retrieved the car keys and stepped into the warm summer evening. He’d never driven before, but how hard could it possibly be?

After two minor crashes and a close call with a tree, Bill started to get the hang of things. The big pedal was the brake, or was it the small one? Man, he could barely see out of these stupid human eyes. Something darted into the road, and the tired thudded as they passed over it. Whoops.

In the dark, he nearly missed the turn. Cursing in R’lyehian, he plowed the car through the underbrush. Metal shrieked as boulders scraped the undercarriage. Sixer was not gonna be happy about this. 

The dirt road extended into the blackness ahead. Bill followed it for a spell, then dumped the car by a ditch. He clambered out of the driver’s seat, cracking his knuckles, and popped the trunk. Inside lay a gascan and a matchbook. He seized both and headed off into the woods.

The enchanted part of the forest was a short walk away. He passed by the unicorn grove–eugh, now those guys were real posers–and entered the gnome’s territory. Warm light spilled from homes carved into tree trunks. Deer grazed in the sidelines, ears pricked. Snores rolled from the dimly-lit tavern. 

Bill remained out of sight, in the shadows away from windows. The few gnomes he saw were utterly wasted. Finally, he reached a towering red cedar in the center of the town. It dwarfed the surrounding trees, swaying in the nighttime breeze. This tree was centuries old, and had served as the Shmebulocks’ library for generations. 

He snatched the key from a fake rock (seriously, those things were completely useless) and let himself in, lighting a match. The inside of the cedar was a vast, hollowed-out space, every surface lined with bookshelves. They stretched into the shadows above, accessible by ladders on wheels. A spiralling staircase followed the walls to the ground some thirty feet below. 

Bill paused to scoff at the bookcases. Centuries of knowledge, but they couldn’t hold a candle to his eons of existence. Really, it was pathetic they even tried. Stanford was just like the Shmebulocks, reaching for the stars, striving for the unknowable. Sooner or later he was gonna get burned. 

Bill sloshed gasoline onto all of the bookcases, breathing in that wonderful smell. He tipped the can over his head to get the last few drops. Nothing like a good chemical burn to the delicate tissues!

Cackling, he tossed the empty gascan behind him. Time for his favorite part. He retrieved a match, struck it, and tossed it with a flourish into the waiting shadows. It caught instantly. Flames licked up the bookshelves, filling the library with delicious heat. Bill laughed, palms outstretched to catch the sparks.

Book covers peeled into thin strips. Paper curled and charred. Smoke filled the space with a thick, cloying fog.

Meanwhile, the fire loomed dangerously close, reaching for Bill with greedy fingers. He stuck in a hand and laughed at the pain. Come to think of it, his body hurt all over. Blistered skin, streaming eyes, struggling lungs… wait, humans couldn’t survive being burnt to a crisp? Since when was that a thing? 

Bill hustled up the stairs, wheezing, as the fire roared beneath him. His puny lungs were closing up. He tripped once, twice, before spilling out the door to suck in clean oxygen. 

Cool night air washed over his body. His ankles, however, were abnormally warm. He glanced down to see the coat going up in flames. Curse Stanford and his fashion choices! Bill swatted unsuccessfully at the fire, gave up, and chucked the coat down the stairs. As he caught his breath, he heard sirens and frightened chatter. Right, time to scram.

Bill bolted off into the woods. Before he could get far, he took a branch to the stomach and went sprawling. He sputtered for air, head spinning. Distantly, he registered flashing blue and red lights, painfully bright and growing closer. Crap.

“Hey, you!” called a voice. “Hands where I can see ’em!” A gnome scurried towards him, accompanied by a siren-bedecked deer. Okay, he was alone. Bill could work with this.

He affected a casual posture, patting down his smoking clothes. “Hiya, officer! What seems to be the problem?”

“A fire broke out in the library.” The gnome adjusted his belt. “Nothing wrong with the occasional book-burning, but the law’s the law.” He glared at Bill. “You wouldn’t know anything about it, wouldja?”

Bill grinned toothily. “No, officer. I have literally no idea how that fire started.”

“Is that so.”

“Oh, absolutely,” he said. “But your superiors won’t see it that way! They’re just not the understanding type!” He loomed over the gnome, lips peeled in a smile. “Howzabout we keep this between us? They don’t need to know about me, and they definitely don’t need to know about your little butterfly habit.”

The gnome’s eyes widened in terror. Oh yeah, Bill had him now. “That sound like a deal, buddy?”

Silently, the gnome nodded. 

“Good. Nice chatting with ya!” He tipped a nonexistent hat and left the officer staring into nothing. 

The trek back to the car was uneventful. Bill skirted past gnomes, unnoticed, until the noise faded behind him. Exhaustion weighed his meatsack down. (Already? He’d just committed a little arson!) Stumbling over roots, he made his way to the road, only to discover the car had taken a nosedive into the ditch. 

Bill groaned. Of course he’d forgotten the parking brake. Looks like he was walking back. 

Stanford woke to a litany of pain. His throat ached. His palms throbbed. His legs were sore, as if he’d run a marathon in his sleep. Knowing Bill, it was entirely possible.

He fumbled for his glasses, which were smudged with soot. He inhaled deeply. Why did his clothes smell of smoke and gasoline? And where had his coat gone? He rolled out of bed, dreading what he might find downstairs.

The kitchen was in shambles. Shattered windows, charred cabinets, crisped curtains. At the epicenter of the destruction stood the toaster, which Ford had once accused of inefficient heating. It now appeared to be equipped with weapons-grade flamethrowers. A sloppy handwritten note was tacked to the side: “FIXED IT.”

Ford rubbed his hands over his eyes. So this explained the burns, the bruises, and the sore throat–but what had caused the sore legs? And why had Bill deemed it appropriate to “fix” a toaster with weapons of war? Ford sighed. Sometimes, Bill’s lack of insight was profusely irritating. This required coffee.

He went to make a cup, just to realize the coffee maker had been blown to smithereens. A trip to the local diner, then. This, too, was thwarted when a glance out the window showed an empty driveway.

Ford sighed again. He would have to find a way to explain this to Fiddleford. As soon as he figured out where his car had gone.

[jettiebettie]

I simply must share this Dragon's Dogma 2 anecdote with you because the Sphinx terrifies me.

So I find the Mountain Shrine dedicated to the Sphinx and I walk up the steps thinking I'll have to go into a cave or temple or whatever, but nope! She's just there, in all of her terrifying glory, in this open air audience chamber. Before I can back pedal my ass out of there (because I was not prepared, always hit that campsite, kids), she immediately starts talking to me and tells me to answer her riddles.

Well. Okay! I'm not ready for a fight, but riddles I can do! She's got five, so I pick one at random, and she basically tells me to bring her the one I love most.

Oh jeez. This is awkward. I've kinda been ignoring the story and quests in favor of Exploring✨️ and Adventure✨️, so I haven't really been willfully increasing my affinity with any of the available NPCs. Damn! What do I do?

I look back at my Main Pawn and think hang on a second, "Leonie, my beloved, come with me!" Then I picked her up caveman style, plopped her on the dias in front of the Sphinx and was like, "Here she is, ma'am! The one I cherish most in this game!" And the Sphinx does her unsettling owl head turn thing as she looks my girl over and then is like, "Yeah, that tracks. Take your prize."

The chest opens, I get a reward, and my Main Pawn asks, "What is the meaning of this, Arisen?" and now I have to play it so cool like this monster lady didn't just force a love confession out of me.

Incredible game, no notes*!

(*that's a lie, please optimize the performance, goddamn)

[is-she-suffering]

What's your fav Queen Adreena album? (mine is taxidermy) ❤️

Taxidermy is my favourite album as well! Drink Me following as close #2 favourite. It\s just one of the most unique sounding albums, I cannot think of a any song/album/artist sounding even close to Hide From Time, Madrayking, Sleepwalking, A Heavenly Surrender and so on. There's glockenspiel, the guitars, the haunted kind of vocals like in the beginning of X-ing Off The Days, Katie Jane's lyrics. I should also add that i love visuals of this album, all these 16mm videos and album art shoots are magical. It's such a shame there's so little of live footage from that time, though it adds onto this sense of mystery.

Drink Me is amazing too thanks to this aggressive vibe and guitar noise. (Interestingly, the "collapsing upon itself" distorted guitar wasn't a result of pedal effect but faulty/rewired amplifier Crispin found in some pawn shop.) It's also interesting how it's pretty much a concept album revolving around white noise & static, which KJG often cites as main inspiration for songwriting.

I find both of albums very relatable, as Taxidermy has this feeling of isolation and loneliness, whereas Drink Me talks about a need/attempt of "leaving the treehouse" but still feeling angry and lonely (like Hotel Aftershow). I would say it's also about self-destruction (which was evident even visually if you see these pics of cuts and bruises...) and a feel of disassociation, splitting identity (Sleeping Pill, Siamese Almeida, etc). Katie Jane seems to have a full on solipsistic view on the world which also peaks through some of the lyrics, overall there's a lot of interesting stuff to unpack here i thought of putting up in a blog article maybe, in if anybody cared to read something like that.

I like Ride a Cock Horse too since they're all pre-Taxidermy demos, but it's impossible to get on CD :/

[fireylesbianhell]

This World Won't Ever Forget Us

Javid Bonnie & Clyde Au? tumblr made me do it. woo!

Based on the fic "Bite The Bullet" by and Orphan Account and a post made by @/spacestamps!

--------------------

For Jack Kelly, it simply started as a way out.

He didn’t mean for anything more significant; he figured all he had to do was get a job or two done and hightail it way out west; away from ugly old Oklahoma to somewhere, oh good god, somewhere better than here.

He had his eyes set on a little place called Santa Fe. Seemed endearing, and god knows New Mexico was far enough away from here.

Jack Kelly wasn’t a wise man - hell, he was a little orphaned 21-year-old with no money, barely a plan, the clothes on his back, and a hijacked car.

Ah, speaking of that hijacked car, the sirens behind him got more worrying as they got louder.

Revving slightly and pushing the pedal almost as far as he could go, breaking several traffic laws without even trying he blasted off down the dusty old roads, tattered shirt rippling in the pushing force of wind trying to slow him down. He saw a parting in the roads and smiled traffic coming up, and the good thing about the car manufacturers out here today was almost all these damn cars looked about the same.

He turned into the trafficked area and did his best to blend as he weaved through the exits and cut off a few now very angry civilians. He found a tail in a near-identical car that suddenly left him and the police were none the wiser as they sped off when he slowed;

Time to figure out where the fuck he was.

Jack cruised a bit, the adrenaline not gone but not as rampant as before. He passed apartments, bars, dusty old hair salons, and-

A quaint-looking diner called ‘The World’, with a bright peeling paint emphasizing the dreadful rundown look of the place.

Perfect.

He pulled in with a casual tumble, grabbing his ragged worn-out trench coat from behind him, and a simple little newsboy cap he found pawned from manhattan. Something about history or whatever, he turned out pretty quickly when he heard the cheap ass price.

Strolling in, the first thing that caught his eye- or, well, his ear first, then his eye- was the berating of some poor waitstaff.

“David! Getcha’ sorry ass over here!” sneered some sorry ugly-faced man in an even uglier bowler hat and- No, jack was sure he wasn’t seeing doubles- the wonder twins of ugly old' lane were harassing’ some unfortunate soul named ‘David’

Speak of the devil, some poor guy about his age skimped out with a poor look on his face, about the likes of a kicked kitten trudged his way out, a similar looking cap and a neat little blue shirt and vest combo- he wasn’t poor, by the looks of it, and held a clean air to him.

Jack found himself a seat, trying to law low of course in case Lucy Law strolled their way in after snuffing the dead end, but keeping a keen eye upon the waitstaff, who looked about in for a hard time with the look the disgustin’ doubles were sharin between themselves.

“Hey David, didn't we tell ya to keep these counters clean?” the one on the left scowled

“Yes, Morris.”

“And,” butted in the other one with a snarl, “What do we have here?”

Morris and wonder twin two pointed to a small splotch of a coffee stain, which looked pretty fresh. David sighed, grabbing a rag nearby and starting to soak it before-

“Hey! We’s ain't finished, kid.” Butted in Morris again. Smiling a sinister smile, he nabbed the rag from David’s grasp as the other twin corned him from the back.

David, God bless his soul, looked like he was trying to decide whether to soak the two in and out, or take a nap on the floor for a good century. His remarkably blue eyes looked dampened, and his hands were fidgeting and fleeting with emotions trying to grasp for control in the shit of a situation he was in.

Jack decided to choose a new spot at the bar, taking a seat two empty from a properly dazed lookin old fellow who was drooling into his eggs and potatoes.

“Excuse me, fellas-” he cut in as the twins were about to go on a spiel. The two looked at him with disgust while David looked with the relief of a man who just found a spring in the desert.

That paused him, letting out a fumbled smile before continuing

“I, ahem, just would like a coffee please.” nothing he intended on paying, mind you. He needed his money to go elsewhere, then a flirtin’ with the poor, pretty boy also stuck planted into Oklahoma to get away dime free wouldn't hurt nothing.

The other twin - Oscar, he gathered from the peachy little pin fallin' off his apron - sneered again, looking sad he didn't get to berate his poor employee anymore

‘Yeah, whateva. David! Get on it, and I better see that man served, this counter cleaned and this floor spotless when I get back or Snyder’s gonna be getting a really bad report.” he called behind him and trailed off after his brother.

Sighing once more, David looked up and met Jack’s eyes. he gave a pitiful smile to jack. 

“Thank you, sir. Now what would you like?” he said formally, that twinge of tired defiance laced his voice as it turned into an artificial customer-service mode. 

“No problem, at all. Were the wonder twins givin ya problems?” he leaned over the counter slightly. Hints of genuine concern laced Jack’s voice, which not only surprised David but himself as well. He was a romantic, yeah, but he never thought he was This bad.

The waiter paused, a bit taken aback before sighing yet again- he was on a roll now, - and letting down his coffee pitcher slightly. Grabbing a cup and pouring out the coffee he continued,

“Yeah, it’s my first day on the job here. And Oscar and Morris are…very strict. I’m already miserable but, money’s money, at least I get to see more than two places in this dead state. It’s up to three now.” he joked dryly, meeting Jack’s eyes as he placed the coffee down in his hands. 

He grabbed a towel, turning but keeping a side towards jack as he started to clean. Jack took a slow draw of a slip. Wow, what a guy. Surprisingly similar too. He placed the cup down, giving a chuckle and flashing his winning smile out to him. 

“Yeah, well, I feel ya. I’m gettin’ outta this hellhole though, mark my words.” 

David smiled back shyly, turning more. “Oh, I will. Say, I’ve never seen you round here much. New in town?” 

Jack chuckled again, “no, oh do I wish. But I got a car and a plan, how hard can it be?” 

David’s head slowly turned up, like gears were calculating in his head. His mouth set to open like he was about to say something before- 

“Dave! What did I say bout’ these counters!” Morris snarled out, stomping over to the two. He gave jack a downright nasty look before David grumbled and suddenly cut through the noise of the twins speaking over eachother 

“I’m taking a smoke break. When I get back in I’ll do it.” David said with a surprising edge of sass in his voice, despite how ready he seemed to pass out. 

He tossed the towel over his shoulder and grabbed a small pack of cigars from his pocket, leaving through the front of the diner, and back out toward the opposite parking lot. 

Jack fumbled, seeing Morris steam in his spot until he shot a look at his brother. Oscar nodded and followed him out. 

That can’t be good. 

Jack waited for a moment, hearing the yelling rise. Yeah, definetly can't be good-

He shot from his seat toward the exit as the old man beside him seemed to wake up a bit, (the bastard was even eyeing his coffee up)

he sharply turned the corner and what jack Jack found was a bloody-nosed David with a look in his eyes that could have knocked Jack out.

It was so cooly fierce, determined but not in a stupid way. This kid may not have the brawns but, those eyes were dangerous, and Jack loved it. 

But when David spotted Jack, he looks fleeted away for one of relief, followed by fear as he ducked away from another fly-by of Oscar’s fist. 

Jack ran up and clocked the guy behind the neck, gettin' him real good before flying in front of Dave and landing a kick in Oscar’s left thigh again. 

He reeled back and swing wildly, catching Jack’s cheekbone and giving it a bruiser. Jack cried out a yell and turned to see Dave on the other side that Oscar wasn’t looking from and got him in his bottom back, completely knocking the wind out of the guy from his side, probably achin his ribs for good measure too.

Oscar doubled over in a wheeze and Jack took this as an opportunity to grab Dave’s hand and bolt away. 

They got a good way to Jack’s car before he paused and said 

“Wait, wait- where are we going?!” he blurted, looking David in his furiously blue eyes. 

“Don’t know, don’t care, get me out of here. Far out of here. I don't care, you have your car and your plan- well I want in on that too. Please.” he grabbed and pulled forward both of Jack’s hands, eyes pleading yet forceful. 

“Wh-woah there, hold on- I can't just let ya- do you- how- don’t you have a home? A family?” he blurted again, quickly as he heard more yells from inside the diner, likely the boys of satan troubling up again. 

“I…they won’t care, it’ll be easier on them with one less person to care for. They don’t need my money if they don’t need to spend it on me.” he reasoned. his conflict was evident yet his drive to get the hell out of dodge was clearly winning out. 

Jack paused again- he felt for him, he really did, and good god did he want to run away with this boy. But, he had to be reasonable. he wasn’t exactly just planning on taking a drive mind you.

Dave must've seen this look before cautiously saying “if it makes you feel better, ill leave some money and a note saying Im safe’n all.”

Jack nodded before slowly starting “I don’t exactly have a very safe plan, though-“

Hearing a door open and a subsequent yell, Jack was cut off and panicked. David took this to jump in the car and shove jack in beside him. he got the memo pretty quick and backed out if there like a madman on wheels.

Hightaling it once more, this time he just happened to have a cute boy in his car. 

that had no idea he was a criminal.

Shit. 

[greetingfromthedead]

C63: Daylight Robbery

For more information on the series (tags, CW, etc) click the banner!

Series Rating: 18+ / Explicit

Chapter: 63/84

Words: 1.8k

No particular warnings for this chapter.

← Previous Chapter | Next Chapter →

"Knock, knock, fuckers!" One of the bandits laughs, "Better open up!"

"Yeah-ha! The Rowdy Rebels are in town!" A different one yells out.

The women usher the children off the streets, many pushing past you into the inn. There are shouts of help and a lot of running. You stop in the middle of the street to figure out your next moves.

"What ya'll yelling for? All your men are asleep! Robbery by daylight, what could be easier?!" The first one laughs maniacally, and the engine of the car revs. You pull out two knives from under your arms and keep them hidden by the cloak. Your eyes find Vash standing in front of the pawnshop, his hand ready to grab his weapon as needed.

This situation makes you worried; they will plow over Vash, and you doubt his small caliber can do too much damage to the armored vehicle.

"Get out of the way or become jam! It's up to you!" a third ruffian yells and points his gun towards your man.

You take off running again; your legs push off the ground hard and quickly bring you to the car. You throw your knife at the man pointing a gun at Vash; the circular part of the hilt smashes hard against his fingers, making him loosen the grip on the weapon. You grab hold of it and disarm it with the same motion as you throw it on the ground. The unfired bullets clink on the cobblestone. The memories of you learning about guns came back with the other things you experienced from your training on Earth.

"A woman?!" The man sounds surprised, but you cut his exclamation short by grabbing hold of him and trying to pull him to the ground, but you quickly find he is attached to the roof with a safety strap. You use your other knife to throw it into a gap in the armor plates in a way that also cuts through the strap itself. Another strong yank, and the bandit lays on his back, surrounded by a cloud of dust. You quickly knock him out with your fist before turning your attention back to the car.

It has only been a few seconds since the now unconscious gunslinger alerted to others to your presence, and you see them peeking over the top of the car, one raising his machine gun onto the roof too, and you duck away from the line of fire. You hear two gunshots from Vash's direction, but you don't check what he did; you know you can trust him.

"Don't just sit there! Do something! Floor it! Get the bitch off us!" The man with the machine gun yells, and you jump up to grab onto the car the same moment the side door opens and the car goes into motion.

"Thanks!" you shout at the dude looking out the door as you grab his collar and pull him out of the moving car. That idiot was not strapped in; he had one arm over his rifle, so he was easy pray. You jump into the car and find yourself in the passenger seat. The driver looks at you with wide eyes.

"Hello!" you say cheerfully before knocking him out too. His leg rests harder on the gas pedal, but thanks to the manual transmission, it just makes the motor rev hard and doesn't allow the car to get completely out of control. Still, it moved fast enough, right towards the pawn house and Vash.

You give the area a quick scan, determining where it's safe and where it's not. Vash has his gun raised and aims above you. From the clunking on the roof, it's a safe bet that a bandit has climbed onto the top of the car. You grab the wheel and pull it towards yourself, changing the course very suddenly. You hear more thumps above you, indicating the gangster is rolling off again, probably taking his minion still hanging off the side with him. The driver's foot slips off the pedal, and you reach over with your own leg to hit the brake. The car stalls out in the street. As you're about to jump out of the car again, metal meets your throat, pulling you hard against the back of the seat and crushing your airway. You hadn't even noticed there was a backseat. Your hand grabs hold of the rifle and simply pulls it away, your raw strength overwhelming the guy behind you. The backdoor behind the driver opens, and one dude jumps out. More gunshots echo a moment later, just as you twist the arm of the bandit behind you until he yelps in pain. You take his gun before you get out of the car.

You walk around the nose of the car to see one bandit on the ground, one getting his ass beat by Vash and another one readying his revolver.

"You're done!" Vash says as he pistol whips the guy who threw hands with him, and he falls down. With one smooth motion, he has his weapon up again, and the bullet he fires knocks the revolver out of the last guy's hand. You see the dude scramble while you walk up to him and use his friend's rifle as a club. The last guy who tried to choke you stumbles out of the car and manages to take a few steps towards you.

"Retreat you idiots while you still can!" You recognize the voice of the gang leader. He addresses his men before turning to someone on Vash's other side. "You people have the audacity to run and scream for help while your town is protected by the Humanoid Typhoon and his crony? You left all the other villages to fend for themselves while you have this?"

You look over to see a middle aged man in a dark suit. He has peppered hair, and he looks tired. A revolver hangs from his hip as he walks up to the leader of the bandits.

"We haven't hired anyone," the man says, anger clear in his voice. "But how dare you come to rob our town, son? After all we have done for the villages. We suffer together, and you come to take the last of our money? You're no better than the heathens."

"Anyone with half a brain takes what they can and leaves this place before we're all sold off to December!"

"And you fool, come to take the money of one of the members of your own community?!" The older man draws his revolver. "We here in Juukei have our own way of dealing with vermin like you!"

You see Vash step between the two men with his hands raised and his revolver put away.

"Now, now, let's not get violent," he says, trying to soothe the feuding parties.

"Is it true?" The man in the suit turns to Vash. "Are you the Humanoid Typhoon?"

You swallow, afraid it will turn into another fight. Your eyes scan over the streets. You see the women and children peeking out from behind windows and doorways, while the men have armed themselves again and taken up positions on the streets. Your hand reaches for the knife on your thigh; the other is still holding a rifle like a club.

"I am Vash. At your service!" The Plant smiles kindly, yet his posture is awkward as he reaches out his gloved hand.

The other man hesitates for a moment, taking his revolver into his left hand and shaking Vash's with his right one.

"You don't seem like a bad kid, son. I'm Jesse Donovan; I'm the mayor of this town, and we've got a real problem." The gentleman speaks, looking only at Vash, like the group of bandits doesn't exist at all.

You're still tense as a drawn bow, unsure where all this is heading. The armed men seem menacing, and the bandits are regaining consciousness one by one. You see the mayor's gaze move to you, and you tense up more, wondering what is going on.

"And who is that enchanting young lady?" He asks kindly, and the anger in his voice is gone. You take a few steps closer, so you stand beside Vash.

"I'm Iris," you say, shaking the man's hand, your ears trained on any noises coming from behind you.

"You remind me a little of my daughter." Sadness glints in his eyes before he turns back to Vash. "And here lies our problem. We are plagued by the traffickers from December. Apparently there is a clientele for people, and the Snatchers keep coming to our region to kidnap our families. We have been trying to do our best, but the December government ignores our pleas, saying our claims are outrageous and neither November nor July want to get mixed up in this. Many towns and villages between here and December have been abandoned already. We are weakened; we can't keep a constant watch for the Snatchers and lowlife bandits, too. It's too much, and on top of that... we don't know what has happened to our loved ones. They took my daughter and my sister, too. Many have lost their children and wives to these monsters. We aren't strong enough to get them back. But if you are truly the Humanoid Typhoon... with your reputation, surely you could put an end to these horrors. We don't have much money, but we will be able to scratch something together. Everyone will pitch in to get their loved ones back."

"Alright," Vash nods after Mr. Donovan is done speaking. "We don't want your money. All I ask is that you let these men go."

He points at the figures on the ground, most rubbing their heads and trying to get a bearing on what is going on. Their leader's eyes are wide as they stare at Vash.

"Don't shed any more blood. You need everyone to keep strong. Juukei and the surrounding villages need to keep a united front if we're going to December," his voice is resolute.

"If that is all you want, I humbly beg for your help, Vash the Stampede." The mayor puts away his revolver and slightly lowers his head.

Vash looks over to you, and you give a reassuring nod. A slight smile dances on your lips. He turns back to the man in front of him.

"You've got a deal. We will go to December to put an end to the Snatchers. We will get your people back; we will try," Vash says to Jesse, and you swallow at his last declaration. You don't know who the people are sold to or for what purpose. People can be incredibly cruel; you speak from experience, so all you can do is to hope that you can find them and they are able to come back. At the very least, you need to stop the Snatchers and keep them from doing more harm to these communities.

Mayor Donovan and Vash shake hands before the older man shakes yours too again, muttering words of gratitude. He promises to fund any gear and bullets you may need. The bandits leave town on foot, stripped of their weapons, and the townsfolk, while still careful, approach you to confirm what they just heard.

For more information and chapters, check out the MASTERLIST.

← Previous Chapter | Next Chapter →

[opalescent-potato]

banner day today tbh - my brother in law found an effects pedal for my bass guitar at the pawn shop and got me a deal on it, *and* my new glasses arrived today and they look great.

I have barely scratched the surface of what this pedal board can do, and I can already tell I'm going to have so much fun with it. There's like, 30+ different effects preprogrammed into it, with empty slots to add more if I can figure out how.

also, Kyle (the aforementioned bro in law) just started playing guitar and can string a few chords together, so we ended up improvising a song together, which was super fun.

now to get back to writing fanfiction. overall, a great day.

[ron-do-i-get-to-sing-my-way]

It’s my emotional support pedal she says, finally caving in and buying that 80s chorus effect guitar pedal at the pawn shop.

[whisperthatruns]

Self-Portrait as Last Pawn Shop in New Jersey

Lately I have not been feeling myself. I walk around like a figure missing its ground. I see a braid of smoke a hand passes through and envy hands, how smoke stays on skin, the faint hairs of a cheek a hand brushes against. Used to be enough to be the blown engine of a VW outside of Durango, whiskey we killed watching our father die, a bad painting I loved because our mother loved bad paintings, without irony. Lead sinkers in the gray bar of self--- There! I’d say, strapped to the mast of a tall ship in a Turner painting, or a grip dangling from the center pole of a circus tent above a troupe of dachshunds trying to find the tiny pedals of tricycles. I collected myself like I was vying to be the last pawn shop in New Jersey. Now I am not even a whir of gnats on a dirt road, a threadbare cloud on a ridgeline, the steam riding off an old man stepping out of a sauna. Days nothing seems to tie me to me. The more I live, the more the rucksack lightens, the more I can’t find myself in the mirror of the world, and roam storefronts as if I have misplaced myself. When I was a kid, I used to keep a Pringles can filled with volcano rocks someone once sold as Apache Tears, one weird ass way of marketing pain. Gone now, as the name of the boy I bailed out for stealing CDs from Walmart, for the girl he crushed on. Which is not really a crime I explained to the cops. The girl loved Stevie Nicks so much I found her stoned under blackberry bramble, listening to “Landslide” on a Walkman. Perhaps it matters to say they were Apache or Pueblo, Inde or Kewa, that they were minor thieves flung far from home. Perhaps all they wanted was the ground inside each other. But even as I say Landslide, Walkman, I feel the scree of words, the pawn shop emptying out. The things that made me are ether now, as clear as those who went and died and took what mattered---bodies, a joke, a late meal that wove itself into morning--- as if they had packed for the afterlife. And empty and whole and empty, the air inside me tastes like leaving, and leaving tastes like rain that never comes. Which I love like breath on a window, like someone else drawing a heart, a face a pleasure in the taking. No wonder, I am marveling over the demo crew slaying each other: Fuck wad, lug nut, waste of skin---Cuts, we used to call them, nicking wing, heel, gutting into laughter, then, tender tender, as one with angels or dogs, where the wound is transom. The words hold them to the ground, and I am whatever hovers when they go.

James Hoch, Last Pawn Shop in New Jersey (Louisiana State University Press, 2022)