#plywood testing

[splendidemendax]

my first woodblock print, ft. the ds9 silhouette (again)

i got some decent wood for carving blocks, but i also got this horrible plywood shingle thing to play around with first.

block at the bottom. first row, left to right: failed attempt at using my homemade book press as a printing press, hand print no. i (almost enough ink but lots of chatter), and hand print no. ii (def not enough ink but chatter fixed)

[daeivs]

9 and 18 for the music asks, please

9: A song that makes you happy- Skullcrusher Mountain by Jonathan Coulton (Link appears broken, to me... Youtube Link)

18: A song from the year that you were born- One More Time by Daft Punk

[ghost-toe]

[fanservices123]

Wooden Products Testing Lab Mumbai, Pune,Nashik,Chennai, Hyderabad, India

[sepulchrorum]

Ummm so I did in fact match w this dude on tinder, exchange a few messages, then he disappeared and a few days later rematched w me and he sent me just his Snapchat and so I added him cuz why not and then we snapped a minimal amount abt normal life getting to know each other things and I fell asleep. Woke up to him having deleted several chats and snaps and was like awww why did u do that and he said he got embarrassed and I was like ok weird.

So then he snapped me yesterday and went back and forth for a bit and then TODAY I OPEN SNAPCHAT and see a pic of a girl on his story and I open it and it says something to the effect of

“hey this Ryan’s ex girlfriend as of yesterday. He’s in a psych ward for at least four days. Sorry to all the girls whose hearts are broken cuz he was stringing you along” and it took every ounce of my being not to message and be say UMMMMMMM TELL ME MORE PLS. Sorry for anything ur going thru and hope he’s okay but i must know more

[rederiswrites]

You can train your tastes. You can choose what you see beauty in.

Lemme go further, actually. You are constantly doing so--or letting others do it for you.

Nearly two decades ago, when we were planning our wedding, I made a very firm decision not to look at any wedding planning magazines or anything with marketing material for wedding products. I wanted our wedding to be uniquely us, and I also wanted not to be bombarded by product advertisement and beautiful photo shoots of very expensive weddings. Consequently, maybe we wasted a little bit of time reinventing the wheel, but we had a wedding we were very happy with that only cost perhaps four thousand dollars at most, probably not that much, spread out over our finances and those of both our families. Our guests went home with live potted plants that we'd paid pennies for at end of season, our florist had a great time getting to design a bouquet that tested her skills because I didn't have any preconceived ideas, my dress was utterly unique--and I really do feel that those magazines would have had a corrosive effect on all that.

When we moved to this property three years ago, I spent a LOT of time looking at images online, trying to form a coherent vision for a property that was at the time a fairly blank slate. I found myself scrolling through a lot of Russian dacha Instagrams, of all things, and they unlocked something for me. Seeing the same homey make-do decorations and techniques I grew up around a continent away, the same plywood cutout old ladies and tractor tire flower planters, somehow chewed through that last binding cord of classism, and suddenly I saw the art in it. The expression of a desire to embellish and beautify, even when you have very little, even when all you can afford is things the more well-to-do consider trash. I saw the exuberance of human love for beauty in a brilliant flower bed planted next to a collapsing shed--it didn't need to be perfect to be worthwhile. They didn't wait til everything was pristine to start enjoying things. And now I earnestly and unironically covet my own version of the tractor-tire Christmas tree at the farm down the road.

We've spent centuries now idolizing the manicured estates and quaint country retreats of the European wealthy elites. We've turned thousands of miles of living ecosystem into grass deserts in service of this vision. We need to start deliberately retraining our tastes. Seek out images of a different idea of beauty and peace. I'm not telling you what it'll be. I'm telling you this is not involuntary. You can participate. You can look at the many beautiful examples of native xeriscaping for arid climates, or photos of chaotic tangles of wildflowers, tamed by narrow paths, a bench under an arbor overwhelmed with wisteria. Maybe instead of trying to get lawn to grown under your mature trees, you'd actually get far more joy out of a patch of dirt. A hammock. A firepit ringed with log sections for seats.

You can free yourself from harmful conventions of taste and beauty, and you do it through imagining something better.

[randomslasher]

Haha so

My psychiatrist wanted me do a genetic test to figure out what meds will help me the most (something something what enzymes does my brain not convert to something else something science something) and I said "I'd love to but I just need to know the price" and she said "Oh, insurance will cover it."

So guess what haha insurance does NOT cover it because apparently the lab is out of network! I now owe them a few hundred bucks that I do not have to spare at the moment.

So...would anyone be interested in a mandala art commission?

Here are the things I can do and prices. At the moment I think I can only afford to ship to the US (sorry :( ) Though if you want me to ship internationally and you're willing to pay the extra for the shipping just let me know.

EDIT: The pieces pictured have all been sold but I can recreate them/do custom colors and whatnot! Just holler at me :)

Rocks: $30 (S&H included)

Coasters: $15 for one, $12 ea if you order more than 1 (S&H included)

Wall Art (plywood circle): $50 (S&H included)

So...yeah if you're interested please send me an ask, please and thank you very kindly for your consideration.

[harrisonarchive]

Forest Hills Tennis Stadium, NYC, August 28, 1964: fan Mary Smith vs. the police. (Both?) photos by Dan Godfrey/NY Daily News Archive via Getty Images.

“During the Beatles’ performance, screaming, crying girls and boys tried to storm through the policemen and the barricades set up on the plywood floor that covered the tennis courts. Others closer to the front tested the wits and strength of some one hundred and fifty policemen and one hundred security guards who spread around the stage. About fifty youngsters burst through but were carried away, screaming. […] One girl made it up to the stage, ran to George and grabbed him in a hug, hanging onto his neck, as he struggled to keep up with the song. He hit the wrong note. She fainted and was carried off.” - Beatles ’64: A Hard Day’s Night in America (1989) “The one last night got George, and he had, I could hear all wrong notes coming out, he was trying to carry on playing, y’know. With a girl hanging ‘round his neck—it was funny.” - John Lennon, interview with Larry Kane, 1964 “She emerged from the rear, took the stage with bare feet, and she hugged George. The Beatles stopped playing and stared in wonderment until police intervened, leaving their positions unguarded. She said, ‘I had to see George. It’s very complicated but I had to talk to him about something, and I wanted to make sure to see him.’” - foresthillsstadium.com “Once we arrived, the whole scene obliterated any other thought other than... Oh My God, THE BEATLES! I’d never been to any event remotely as large or as charged with electric anticipation. […] Maybe the most amazing thing about the screaming: except for just a few moments, when either Paul or John was introducing the next song, the screaming simply never ever abated or even ebbed and flowed. It was a constant roar. In fact, after a while, you could almost ignore it. I know that my acclimated ears heard more of the last three songs than the first three, for sure. Maybe even some of George’s lead guitar.” - Binky Philips (fan), Huffington Post, August 24, 2010

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for not comforting a child after her science project didn't work?

( 💞💥 to find)

Okay this was a while ago but I still think about it sometimes and I'm genuinely unsure of if I did the right thinh.

So I (15F at the time) was a part of a science league thing facilitated by my school. Basically, you would meet after school once a week to study/work on projects, and then go to a competition in the spring against other schools. There were a bunch of different categories and activities but they were primarily separated into ones you had to study for (and would then take a test on) or build for (like a wheeled vehicle or a model plane, which would be graded). It was really fun and low-key compared to the sports programs at my school, so I liked it a lot.

A friend of mine, who we'll call S (15F) was also in the science league. We did a lot of study based competitions together, and usually placed in the competitions. During our third year, her youngest sister, M (12ish), joined the league. She was a really sweet and smart kid, and she was interested in trying a building based event. You needed two people to enter an event, so I volunteered to build a marble rollercoaster with her. M also grouped up with a girl in her grade for another building project (I think it was a plane).

Because M was doing two building events (which were predictably a lot more time consuming than the study events) and the school musical, we agreed I would create the plans for the rollercoaster and get the materials together. Now, each building events came with a printed copy of parameters and optional features that could get us bonus points. I decided on attempting for three bonus features (two jumps and a loop). Between designing on paper, adapting for the parameters, measuring out the track lengths, and gathering materials (that of which I had to switch out half way through), the whole process took me about four months to complete, and that was just the planning. We were getting pretty close to the competition date when we started to actually assemble the damn thing (at this point she had finished up her other stuff and was able to help me more consistently), and we were having a lot of issues with getting the track pieces to fit together. As I remember it, the problem came from having to fold the track over a bunch of times so it would stay in the 30cm-somethingish width parameter. The Thursday before the competition (which was in Saturday), M volunteered to take the coaster home and finish it there. I was honestly so relieved when she said this, because I knew through S that her dad was really handy, and like mini trebuchets and stuff for fun.

Flash forward to the event, when we're boarding the bus going to the school hosting the competition. She gets on with a cardboard box, and excitedly shows me a marble rollercoaster that is absolutely not what she left with at all. For reference, the original plan for the coaster was made of pvc pipe, which I spent around three weeks measuring out and cutting with a band saw in the shop room. This rollercoaster was two pieces of plywood with tinfoil tracks that you leaned against the cardboard box she was carrying it in. She hadn't included any of the extra features I had implemented to get us extra points. While I was shocked and admittedly pretty pissed I didn't say anything because she was a) a kid and b) I assumed that there was probably some issue that had arisen in testing that necessitated the changes. When we went to impound she struggled a lot with setting it up and the three pieces weren't attached with anything and were literally just leaning against each other. At this point it was also visually obvious that the width want way beyond 30 cms, and when the judges came around to measure, it turned out that it was above the allotted height too. M was looking really nervous about now, so I assured her that most of the time, the marbles don't even make it down the coaster tracks, and as long as our marble makes it to the end we should be able to place. Except, when it came time to release our marble, it moved for about three seconds before getting stuck in the tinfoil. We were allowed to try two more times, and it got stuck in the same place each time.

M was very visibly upset, and looking back I think she was on the verge of tears. It can't really remember what I said; I know I didn't say anything malicious or accusatory, though. Honestly, I think I might have just stood there in silence, because I was honestly really fucking angry that she ditched my design for no apparent reason and didn't bother to check any of the available rules or even test her design. But I don't think that anger justified leaving a little kid without support when she was upset.

tldr: When I was a teenager I didn't comfort my friends little sister after our marble rollercoaster didn't work because she had ditched the design I had made for one that broke parameters.

[sweetandgentlecreature]

The Old Ball and Chain

Authors Note: So, uh…Was laying down to go to bed and had a thought. Definitely not quite my usual content, so I’m not going to add my taglist just in case this is too heavy for some readers. (Can you tell what part of my cycle I’m in?)

Pairing: Captain Syverson x Female Reader

Warnings: Simulated Dubcon, Bondage, Brief mentions of fingering (female receiving), and Unprotected p-in-v sex. I am an adult, and due to the nature of this content, all works created by me will be rated for those 18 years and older. Minors, DNI.

Time passes slowly when you can’t see the clock on the wall, ticking down to an undetermined amount of time spent on the bench. Ass hanging off of the edge, knees bent, ankles shackled and held aloft by cold chains anchored to the outside of the plywood partition. The hole is just wide enough for my bottom half to fit through, the opening carefully carved and wrapped in foam and leather for my comfort. Wouldn’t want to get a splinter, of course.

The room is dim and cold. Goosebumps dance and scamper up and down my arms, and I can’t tell if I’m shivering through the cold or in anticipation for what’s to come. Soon, the unmistakable sound of tires tracking through gravel tells me what I need to know. The engine comes to a stop just outside of the door, followed by heavy foot falls crunching their way up the path. My breath catches in my throat, and I swallow hard to calm my anxious nerves. The door opens as he steps inside, then closes with a heavy thud behind him. He doesn’t speak, but he doesn’t have to. That’s not a part of the agreement anyway. Ragged breath from the heaving chest of the beast on the other side of the wall paints a picture in my mind. He’s been thinking about this all day.

Rubber boot soles thud across the concrete floor with each determined stride, until he stands (what I presume is) before me. Slow, deep breaths in through the nose and out through the mouth pour over my bare skin and light me ablaze. When I close my eyes, I imagine the look on his face. Brow furrowed, eyes dark with lust, sizing me up as I lay open for him like a feast to be devoured.

He touches me, warm, calloused fingertips pressing at the inside of my knees to open them wider as he takes his stance between them. Still quiet, still focused, he runs them up my thigh, nice and slow, until they reach their sticky and sweet destination. I gasp as the crassness of his ministrations when I feel him pinch the lips of my quivering pussy between his forefinger and thumb, not too hard, just enough to bring my wetness to the surface. My cup runneth over and spills to the floor with the pitter-patter of a soft summer rain. Heat rises in my face, but before I can react, he slides a thick finger through my petals to collect the nectar, then slips it inside of me.

The intrusion, albeit a surprise thanks to the division between us, is a welcomed one, and I hum in delight as he explores. It’s a test, and it seems that I’ve passed when he takes it away again. My heart pounds in my chest and rings in my ears as I wait for his next move. Digging my nails into the wood beneath me, the anticipation is almost too much to stand, when… no. Surely he isn’t…but then he does it again. Slow, deep, and heavy, he takes another breath, then sighs in relief. I close my eyes when I hear him suck his fingers clean. I must be good enough to eat.

The rattle of what I can only guess is his belt loosening makes me shutter, followed by the soft pop of the button and the slow downward zip of his fly. He parts my swollen lips with the tip of his cock, hot and heavy against my eager flesh as he slides it through my folds to collect more wetness. One hand holds my leg as the other is braced against the partition as he brings it down to slowly insert himself inside of me.

It’s a snug fit, and the sting of the stretch to fit around him is delicious. A breathy little moan escapes my dry, parted lips as he settles inside of me. He’s patient enough to let me adjust, but the man is no saint. It’s not long before he draws himself out again, then thrusts inside once more. Again and again, slow at first but quickly gaining momentum, the chains that hold me aloft rattle against the board with each drive of his hips against mine. He chooses the tempo, and I buck my hips up to meet it.

Hard, harder, harder; fast, faster, faster, he keeps going. His breath is uneven and ragged as he seeks out his climax. My thighs tremble around him, toes flexing and curling with each deep thrust until I’m seeing stars. Just when I think I can’t take any more, he grunts, loud and thunderous as he comes undone. buried to the hilt deep inside of me. He stills, hands trembling as they support beneath my knees, and he doesn’t move until he’s finished. Sweat drips from my nose and I wipe it away with the back of my hand as he pulls away, leaving me full of his spent and dripping onto the table beneath me. My body aches, and pin-prickles burn the soles of my feet as I wiggle my toes for relief. Just then, the hinges of the barrier between us squeak as he drops the top half down to peer at me from his side of the wall.

“Fuck, baby. That was better than I ever imagined it could be.”

Nimble fingers work to loosen the snares on my ankles one by one, and he catches my feet, lowering them slowly to lessen the strain as I sit upright again. Giggling softly, I brush my sweat-dampened hair from my eyes.

“It was fun, wasn’t it?”

For weeks, we’d been practicing. Endless midnight conversations about the ins and outs of how this would work, evenings after work spent in the shop crafting the perfect platform to suit our needs. All of it leading up to the big show, and now it was over.

Sy grabs my foot, then the other, and begins massaging life back into them again. Once he’s done, he disappears to the sink in the corner of the garage to wet a wash rag with warm water to clean us up again. I wince as he glides it between my legs, but only for a moment, when he drops to his knees to get a better look. Rough whisker kisses brush along the inside of my thighs as he slowly works his way down, humming softly to himself as he takes his sweet time.

“You did so good,” he croons, beaming with pride as he takes care to wipe up the mess he’d left behind. With one final swipe, he tosses the rag towards the sink again and buried his head between my knees to make me shutter once more.

When his eyes meet mine, through a bramble of thick, dark lashes, I know that this is far from over. He smiles as he nuzzles against my mound, just as insatiable as the day we met. We share a silent truth in that moment, one that needs no words. I wouldn’t want him any other way.

“Happy Anniversary, Darlin’.”

[sfblah]

The Cleanup Crew - Tactical Maid Service

A while back I was waffling on about how I finally wrote something again, and so here it is. I was holding out cuz I wanted to have more of the next chapter(s) finished first, but I figured I should just go ahead and post this before a million years go by. As usual it's a send up of various anime tropes, as well as my inner repressed 16 year old that never stopped playing too many first person shooters.

Female sneezes - Dust

Operation "Hurry"

A spotlight switches on with a sharp kcham, illuminating a circle on the warehouse’s concrete floor. In its center stands a young woman clad in a black and white maid’s uniform, the cloth slightly wrinkled, but hardly noticeable at a distance. She holds her hands together calmly in front of her waist, though only for a moment before she caves to the urge to visor her eyes from the blinding light.

“Alright, last one for today,” grumbles an unseen voice from somewhere up above. After a brief pause, the maid fidgets and points to herself.

“Um, me?” she asks, looking at where she assumes her proctor must be.

“No, behind you.”

The maid turns around, and an incredulous groan immediately follows.

“Yes, you. Jesus, how’d a bucket like you pass selection? Ugh, forget it. Step forward.”

A series of overhead lights activate in sequence, revealing the entrance to the examination course. Still fidgeting, the maid approaches.

“Grab one of the weapons from the table.”

She hadn’t even noticed the table until the proctor pointed it out. Atop the rough wooden surface sits a sawed-off double barrel shotgun, a half-empty box of shells, and absolutely nothing else.

“This is the only one here,” observes the maid.

“You want it or not!?” snaps the voice from on high, startling the trainee half a foot into the air.

“Alright, alright, jeez,” the maid replies, retrieving the weapon. She breaks it open, loads two of her meager collection of shells, and after a brief struggle, slips it into the concealed holster under the back of her skirt.

“Okay, moving right along,” the proctor continues. “Yadda yadda, complete the course as quickly as you can, yadda yadda. By beginning the examination you consent to hrmm meh meh, you waive your right to blah, blah, blah… Look, this is the fiftieth time I’ve read this today. You know what to do, right? Just go through the thing.”

The maid blinks, glancing back and forth between the door and the still-obscured source of the voice.

“Uh. Yeah, totally. For sure.”

A single clap echoes in the rafters.

“Okay, great, great. Start whenever you’re ready. I’m gonna go grab a ham sandwich.”

Footsteps on the catwalk above fade into the distance, leaving the maid to shrug and shake her head.

“Yeah, okay. Rude?” she mumbles to herself, turning to face the entrance to her final test. A plywood facsimile of a foyer is visible through the open door, decorated with a few plastic houseplants. The maid cautiously sticks her head through the threshold, half expecting to be hit in the face by some manner of contraption. To her amazement, nothing happens. Suspiciously so, in fact. She proceeds to creep across the room, eyeing the doors on either side of the far wall, but she slows to a stop when something else catches her attention.

A metal grate is set into the wall. Neither near the ceiling nor the floor, it seems oddly out of place even in the industrial approximation of a manor. Almost as if it isn’t supposed to be there. Looking back over her shoulder, the maid approaches and discovers all but one of the screws meant to hold the grate in place are missing. After one more glance up at the vacant walkways above, she simply swings the grate aside and hauls herself through the opening.

Perhaps a more seasoned operator might have thought to look through the grate at some point before opening it. The unlucky maid assumed she was about to skip ahead in the exam course, but instead she finds herself wedged into a cramped metal duct, arms pinned to her sides and feet kicking uselessly in the air. Before even opening her eyes to take stock of her new surroundings, she stubbornly wiggles herself deeper into the vent.

“Well, this was a stupid idea…”

The test proctor may not have been watching, but the fates were certainly listening. When the maid took a deep breath to gather her strength, she instead succeeded only in filling her big, clumsy nose with dust. Her flailing legs go limp, and the warehouse hangs in silence for a moment before…

“ah-ahh-ahhh-CHOOOO!!!”

The maid’s loud, powerful sneeze did nothing to clear her sinuses. On the contrary, the remaining dust that had settled in the vent was scattered into the air, only exacerbating her need to sneeze again.

“ah-ahh-CHOO!!”

And again.

“haa-CHOO!”

And again…

“ah-ahh… AHH-CHHOOOOOOO!!!”

Her frantic wiggling resumes, adding a chorus of popping and straining sheet metal to the cacophony. Mercifully the duct isn’t especially long, and eventually the maid manages to shimmy and sneeze herself far enough along to free her arms and fully push herself out the other side. She lands upside down in a heap, legs kicking one more time as she gives another “ah-CHOOO!”

The maid rolls herself upright, sitting on the floor of an unexplored part of the test. Instead of reorienting herself, she shakes her head and begins to rub her tickly nose up, down, and all around with the palm of her hand. Finally she cracks one eye open with a thick, wet sniff. The room is dark, but it again appears to be plywood construction with more fake plants.

“Hey, Bucket? Where’d you go?” calls the proctor through a mouthful of food. The maid just manages to register their footsteps approaching from somewhere behind before she folds over with a screamed “HA-CHOOOO!!”

The footsteps quicken to an awkward jog, soon arriving overhead.

“Oh, shit! I didn’t think you’d get this far already. Let me just…”

The room lights up, and the maid has no time at all to absorb her surroundings before cardboard targets burst out of every nook and cranny, and the deafening sounds of recorded gunfire fill the air. If the maid had bothered to stand, imaginary bullets would have already torn her to shreds. Instead she sits in dubious comfort behind a couch, desperately rubbing her nose.

“Intruders! Shoot the targets!” shouts the proctor, scarcely audible over the chaos. The maid fumbles for her shotgun, nearly pulling her skirt down to her ankles before she manages to retrieve it from its holster. Then, barely able to keep her eyes open, she peeks over the back of the couch, points her weapon roughly in the direction of one of the cardboard cutouts, and pulls the trigger.

The recoil sends the maid falling back to the ground, where she remains for a moment as she gasps and heaves forth a strained “ah-ahh-CHHOOO!” She shakily returns to her feet and repeats the process, shooting, falling, and sneezing all over again. This time she doesn’t stand, deciding to reload first. She opens her shotgun and dumps out the two empty shells, then begins to feel around under her skirt for more.

“Remember, switching to your pistol is always faster than reloading!” the proctor advises.

“I don’t have a pistol!” shrieks the maid, kicking her feet up and down.

“Shit, uh, sorry…”

Just as the maid finally manages to fumble a shell into one of her shotgun’s barrels, a falling hunk of metal hits her right on the nose. She screams and covers her face, rolling onto her side and unknowingly kicking her shotgun across the floor. What the hell even was this test? If she’d known she was going to be treated like this, she would have just stayed home and stuck to video games.

Her right hand finds the dropped pistol after a few aimless slaps on the floor. Knuckles white on the grip and breathing heavily through clenched teeth, the maid rises to her feet, takes what she assumes is a shooting stance of some kind, and fires wildly at the remaining targets. She continues pulling the trigger even after she expends her last bullet and the pistol’s slide locks back, only coming down from her rage when the simulated gunfire stops.

Somehow, against all odds, each of the cardboard targets have been neatly punctured. Well, maybe not neatly, but good enough. The maid lets her arms fall to her sides, and soon her jaw and eyelids begin to droop in turn. Her head tips back, her large, teardrop-shaped nostrils flare, and…

“AAHHH-CHHHOOOOOOOO!!!”

And she doesn’t stop sneezing for the next… She doesn’t even know how long. Somebody takes her by the shoulders, leads her somewhere, and someone else begins to address her, all while she continues to sneeze.

“Hello, and allow me to congratulate you on passing your final assessment.” This new voice is lower and softer, not that the maid is able to pay any attention.

“ah-CHOO!”

“Your form says your callsign is ‘Bucket’? Is that right?”

“Aaah-CHOOO!!”

“Wonderful. Let me be the first to welcome you to The Cleanup Crew.”

[viktorviolettaenterprises]

Avtomat Kalashnikova's Rifle Series

Part 1: 7,62 x39 (Soviet M43)

DOWNLOAD🔽

Author's Note

Greetings, dear customers!

I’m excited to be back providing great military content for your Sims 4 game! These past five months have been challenging due to various personal issues, including illness and other setbacks that slowed my progress. Managing everything on my own has been tough, especially since my partner has shifted focus away from our shared projects. But life must goes on.

Enough about the woe story—I'm happy to share that I’ve started by remastering some of my older content for those who enjoy classic items. Don’t worry, though; new items are also on the way. So sit back and enjoy! I hope you’ll find the new content up to your usual high standards.

Cheers!

Information

Right after World War II ended, the Red Army began searching for a new service rifle. They sought a rifle that would fire a cartridge based on the M43—a shortened version of the 7.62 x 54mm round, which became the 7.62 x 39mm. This new round was chosen for its moderate recoil and suitability for automatic fire. Initially, the semi-automatic Simonov SKS was selected as an interim solution while the search continued.

In 1946, Mikhail Kalashnikov entered his design into a competition alongside others. However, the Central Committee was not satisfied with the initial results, and all contestants were required to make improvements. A year later, Kalashnikov returned with a modified version, which he named the "Avtomat Kalashnikova model 47." Tests showed that Kalashnikov's design met all the Central Committee's requirements. Ultimately, his design was standardized as the Red Army's main service rifle, simply named the "AK" or "Avtomat Kalashnikov."

🇷🇺Original Releases🇷🇺

The rifle that started it all—the AK-47—is Mother Russia’s proudest gift to the world, born from the genius of Mikhail Kalashnikov. This section details the original AK model produced by the Soviet Union and it's Successcor States, Russian Federation, mark the beginning of an iconic rifle series

AK-47 (Avtomat Kalashnikova 1947)

Of all the weapons in the vast Soviet arsenal, nothing was more The One that Started all. nothing is more profitable than Avtomat Kalashnikova model of 1947, more commonly known as the AK-47, or Kalashnikov. It's the world's most popular assault rifle. A weapon all fighters love. An elegantly simple 9 pound amalgamation of forged steel and plywood. It doesn't break, jam, or overheat. It will shoot whether it's covered in mud or filled with sand. It's so easy, even a child can use it; and they do. The Soviets put the gun on a coin. Mozambique put it on their flag. Since the end of the Cold War, the Kalashnikov has become the Russian people's greatest export. After that comes vodka, caviar, and suicidal novelists. One thing is for sure, no one was lining up to buy their cars.

This Particular Model is first adoption of the AK family by the Red Army in 1949 & Contray to Popular Believe This Type Of Rifle Along With It's Folded Stock Variant Are So Rare and inteded as Red Army Trial Model. It got short service lenght in the Advent Of AKM.

AKS-47 (Avtomat Kalashnikova Skladnoy Model 1947)

Later versions of the original AK-47 are basically standard AK-47s but with a downward-folding metal stock (like the one on the German MP40 submachine gun). This design makes it easier to use in cramped spaces, like inside BMP infantry combat vehicles, and for paratroopers use. It was adopted for use by the Soviet military.

AKM (Avtomat Kalashnikova modernizirovanny)

The AKM is a improved & modernized variant of the AK-47 and was produced in much larger numbers. The most notable difference is that the AKM has a stamped receiver, making it lighter and less costly to produce, a slant compensator on the tip of the barrel (to reduce recoil) & an improved gas tube to ensuring Reliability. The Most Obiquotous AK Variant In Market.

AKMS (S – Skladnoy – Folding), A Variant Of AKMS which was equipped with an under-folding metal shoulder stock. The metal stock of the AKMS is somewhat different from the folding stock of the previous AKS-47 model as it has a modified locking mechanism, which locks both support arms of the AKMS stock instead of just one (left arm) as in the AKS-47 folding model. Like The perk From it's Main Rifle. This Variant Also Featuring More Lighter, Cheaper to Produce and better Recoil Management

AK-103/ Kastov 762

Note:Some of You young folks might knowed this gun from New Call of Duty LOL

The Trend of Weapon Modernization of 21st Century Finally Fall into Kalashnikov's Ear And AK 103 is the Answer for that. The AK-103 is a newer version of the AK-47. It still uses the same 7.62×39mm ammo but comes with some upgrades like a more comfortable synthetic stock and better materials like it's 5.45 Version brother. It’s designed to be more accurate and reliable, making it a solid choice for military and law enforcement use. Overall, it’s a tough like What you expect from Kalashnikov Rifle, modern rifle that handles well in different situations.

AK-104

A Russian Modern Answer to M4 Carbine. The AK-104 is a modernized version of the AK-47, designed to compete with the American M4. Chambered in 7.62×39mm, it’s more compact and features a folding stock, making it easier to handle in tight spaces. The AK-104 incorporates updated materials and design elements to stay relevant in today's weapon trends. Kalashnikov's ability to adapt and innovate has kept the AK series influential and trendy, maintaining its status as a leading choice in firearms across the globe.

☭Warsaw Pacts Derivatives & Foreign Copies☭

Due to the popularity of the Kalashnikov rifle and the heightened Cold War marked by the foundation of the Warsaw Pact (Soviet's defense pact to match Western NATO), many communist-aligned nations started copied Kalashnikov designs, both legally and illegally. The following section covers the foreign derivatives of the legendary Kalashnikov!

🇭🇺FEG AMD-65 (Automata Módosított Deszantfegyver 1965)🇭🇺

Another Masterpiece from Hungarian Factory Fegyver- és Gépgyártó Részvénytársaság. Popular Amongst Afghanistan National Army (Afghan's Army during occupation of United states of America, Until the fall of Afghanistan in 2021) is a modified compact version of the AKM-63 made for use by specialist troops like paratroopers and vehicle crews. The AMD-65 featured a shorter barrel, a muzzle brake, and an Iconic side folding stock.

The AMD-65 is the most famous variant of the Hungarian AKs, due to its distinctive appearance and more widespread availability in the United States compared to other variants.

🇵🇱FB RADOM Wz. 96 Beryl M762🇵🇱

representing Poland's efforts to develop modernized indigenous 5.45x39mm and 5.56x45mm Kalashnikov Rifle in response to late Cold War Warsaw Pact and NATO cartridge standardizations. This particular Model is is an export version of the kbs Wz. 96C chambered in 7.62x39mm. It is most notably used by Nigeria. and Mostly Popular Amongst "PlayerUnknown's Battlegrounds" Gamers or PUBG.

🇷🇴Pistol Mitralieră model 1963/1965🇷🇴

PM md. 63 (Romanian: Pistol Mitralieră model 1963; lit. "model 1963 submachine gun") is the Romanian military designation of Romanian manufactured clones of the Soviet AKM. Produced at the Cugir Arms Factory (today a subsidiary of ROMARM), early Romanian Kalashnikov rifles were almost indistinguishable from Soviet AKMs, but a number of Romanian domestic features were introduced in later production models, making them more and more distinct from Soviet Kalashnikovs. it is better known under the export name of AIM.

PM md. 65 The PM md. 65 is the Romanian clone of the AKMS. As with the md. 63, the rifle features a foregrip integrated into the handguard; in order to accommodate the underfolding stock, however, the foregrip of the PM md. 65 notably slants backwards. The rifle is exported to the west under the export name AIMS.

The Mini Draco (imported by Century Arms) is an ultra-short export variant of the Romanian AK featuring a 7.75" barrel. intended For US Civilians. Straight From Grand Theft Auto V

🇫🇮SAKO/Valmet Assault Rifle Series🇫🇮

The Finnish firearms manufacturer Valmet built assault rifles, in co-operation with Sako, based in part on the Kalashnikov action in the early 1960s, and continued to manufacture them up until 1994. Valmet later merged into Sako (in the late 1980s), and the some of their designs are currently being manufactured.

The model M62 (known as Rk 62 in Finland) was adopted by the Finnish Defence Forces, and still serves as the standard infantry weapon of the Finnish Army.The M62 has an unusual T-shaped tubular buttstock, compared to other Kalashinkov pattern rifles. The gas block and front sight design is very similar to the Israeli Galil rifle, as the Galil was designed based on the Valmet.

The RK 95 TP (known commercially as M95) is an upgraded variant of the M62, designed and manufactured by Sako. It has a folding stock, and can be fitted with suppressors. It was adopted into service by the Finnish Army, although in relatively small numbers, and it is still used by Finnish Special Forces. An export variant in 5.56mm was also produced in extremely limited numbers.

🇨🇳Norinco Type 56🇨🇳

The Type 56 assault rifle is the Chinese clone of the Soviet AK-47 rifle. It was China's service rifle from 1956 to the adoption of the QBZ-95 in around 1997. The Type 56 is the most commonly used AK variant in American film and television productions. This came about because China exported civilian AK variants (both Type 56 patterened and less commonly Soviet AK patterened) to the West in large numbers during the 1980s, primarily by the export companies Norinco

QBZ-56C (Type 56C) – Short-barrel version, introduced in 1991 for the domestic and export market. The QBZ-56C as it is officially designated in China, is a carbine variant of the Type 56-2 and supplied in limited quantities to some PLA units. The Chinese Navy is now the most prominent user. The QBZ-56C is often carried with a twenty-round box magazine, although it is capable of accepting a standard Type 56 thirty-round magazine. It also has a sidefolding stock in addition to a muzzle booster, giving it a similar appearance to the AKS-74U.

Type 56-2 – Improved variant introduced in 1980, with a side-folding stock and dark orange bakelite furniture. The stock also houses a cleaning kit, which both underfolding AKs (all nations) and other sidefolding AKs lacked, instead requiring a separate pouch. It also allows a traditional detachable bayonet, both AK-47 and AKM styles, as an option in addition to the folding spike style. Mainly manufactured for export and rare in China.

Type 56-2M - Basically Norinco Type 56-2 fitted with an aftermarket LHV-47 handguard and ergonomic pistol grip. Perfect for Customization. Model Straight From Grand Theft Auto V

💀Special Role And Novelty Items🤡

This Section will Covering Some Specialized Roles of Kalashnikov Rifle And some just a novelty Items of it which is specifically designed to serve no practical purpose, and is sold for its uniqueness

RPK-47

The Light Machine Gun Version of Legendary Kalashnikov's Assault Rifle. Featuring A Heavier Barrel for supporting Sustained fire, Bipod To enhance stability and accuracy during sustained fire, the RPK includes a bipod. This feature allows the operator to stabilize the weapon while firing from a prone or kneeling position, which is crucial for maintaining accuracy and control in a support role. along with the RPK often features a sturdier stock, which helps manage recoil and enhance overall stability while firing. this particular Version is Using 7.62X39mm

Golden AK Series

Note:Special Thanks For @bluexxxxx For magnificent Watergun Pose in Second Picture.

Alright, picture this: the iconic AK-47, but with a dazzling twist. That’s the Golden AK Series for you! Imagine the legendary Kalashnikov rifle decked out in a sleek, gold finish that screams both style and power. These rifles aren’t just about looking cool (though, let’s be honest, they definitely do). They’re also built with all the rugged reliability and firepower you expect from an The Cold War champion. So, if you want a rifle that combines legendary performance with a touch of glamour, the Golden AK Series is where it’s at. It’s not just a tool; it’s a statement.

@exzentra @exzentra-reblog

[final-girl96]

Firefly Chapter Fifty-Three

We tied the horses to a tree, making sure to leave it loose enough that they could get free if they needed to. We looked around to see there wasn't anyone on guard. “Something's off. Why isn't there anyone on guard?” We slowly made our way to the front of the building. The glass doors and windows at the entry were boarded up by plywood. When we walked into the lobby of the science building there were plastic totes and boxes stacked up in the middle between the doors and stairs.

I picked up a clip bored and looked at it. It was a checklist of things. “They were packing up to leave. This is a checklist,” insaid, handing it to Joel. “Hello! Is anyone here?!” Ellie shouted. Joel and I both shushed her. “We gotta keep it down. We don't know who might be here or what might be in here,” I told her. She whispered sorry and we headed towards the stairs. “Where do you think everyone went?” Ellie asked, quietly as we came to the second floor. Before either of us could answer we heard a loud banging coming from down the hall.

With Joel in the lead, we quietly and slowly made our way towards the sound. It was probably a stupid idea, but what other choice did we have? It could be one of the fireflies. We made our way to a classroom, and Joel slowly pushed the door open, gun aimed in front of him. When we walked in, we saw monkeys running about and knocking stuff over. I walked in further and looked around. “Fucking monkeys. Doesn't look like anyone has been here for a while,” I said.

“Let's look around and see what we can find. Don't wander off too far,” Joel said. I walked out into the hall and looked into the other rooms, going in and checking anything I saw that might give a clue what happened here. “Do you think They're still alive?” I wiped my head to the left and looked at Ellie. “I don't know. Maybe. I don't see any kind of signs of struggle but that doesn't mean something didn't happen. They were packing up to leave but why? That's the question. Whatever happened here, it happened a while ago.”

We continued going through the rooms, coming across monkeys once in a while. There were documents on the Cordyceps Infection and failed tests for vaccines. There were scans of people, infected, with different stages of Cordyceps. We looked through everything until we came to one of the rooms that had a white board with a map pinned to it. “Looks like they headed to Salt Lake City,” Joel said, pointing to the map where Salt Lake City was circled in red. “Looks like we're going to Utah,” I said.

We were getting ready to head back to the stairs when voices from outside floated up into the room through the broken window. Joel moved closer to look down at the ground, moved back, and put his finger to his lips. Ducking down we made our way out of the class room and down the hall. We were only a few feet from the stairs when we heard voices and footsteps coming up them. Joel quickly opened a door and pushed Ellie and I inside, closing it behind him and leaning against it to listen. When they passed the door, he opened it just enough so he could look into the hall.

One by one, silently, with Joel going first, then Ellie, and finally me, we moved out of the room and down the stairs. At the bottom Joel looked around before urging us toward the front doors where we came in. We got to the horses, untying them from the tree branch when yelling started. Then a shot went off and three men charged us. I pulled my gun, armed, and shot one in the shoulder, knocking him back. Another came up on Joel, who dodged the man's bat.

I shot the first one again in the leg and then shot another in the head before going to help Joel. He was struggling with the guy who had run at him. The man swung the wooden bat again, Joel dodged it and he hit the tree breaking the bat. “Yn, watch out!” Ellie yelled. Before I could turn around someone tackled me to the ground. We fought, rolling around, trying to get the upper hand on each other. I had no chance against him, he was bigger and stronger. He also had a knife in my face.

My hands wrapped around his wrist, pushing against him as hard as I could. My grip was slipping and the only thing I was able to do was move his hand down away from my face. He put all his weight down, driving the knife into my shoulder. A shot went off at the same time I screamed in pain, then he was falling off of me. Joel was standing above me and when I looked up I gasped. “Joel.” He looked down to where my eyes were fixed. The broken end of the bat was protruding from the side of his abdomen.

He stumbled back and I stood. “Joel, don't pull…” He pulled it out of his abdomen and threw it to the ground. Yelling got closer and closer to us. “Get on the horse, Joel!” Ellie told him, urging him to mount the horse. He did as told and she climbed up behind him. I got on the other horse and we headed towards the way we came in at. I shot at anyone following until we were completely out of sight.

Blood was running down my arm and hung limp by my side. We followed train tracks for miles before Joel started to slow down. Ellie was doing her best to keep him upright. I had come up beside them on the side Joel was leaning towards to try and help her. His skin had grown pale and clammy. I'm sure I wasn't looking the best either. The pain in my shoulder was horrible. With every bounce it shot down my arms and across my shoulder.

That all went away the moment Joel and Ellie's horse came to a stand still and Joel looked over at me before falling off the other side of the horse. Ellie yelled his name and got off the horse, falling to his side. I slipped off my horse, ran around to them, and fell to his other side. “Joel, look at me!” I said, grabbing his face to turn his head towards me. “Look at me, Joel.” His eyes looked up at me, his mouth opening but nothing came out. His eyes shut again and he fell unconscious. “Joel! Joel, don't do this! Wake up! Wake up, Joel! Please.” Ellie was shaking himself, tears coming to her eyes. “We can't do this without you.”

[beevean]

Okay, here's a dumb but weirdly specific idea; how would you rank the playable roster from Ace Attorney based on how likely it would be for them to own (or have previously owned) a swear jar?

Let's see lol

Phoenix: He has one. He doesn't swear much because he tries to be polite, but he's not immune to the occasional "fuck". Even worse was the seven year gap, where he would have loved to let himself loose, but he just happened to have a little girl at home now.

Apollo: Look at him and tell me he doesn't swear like a sailor. If he dropped money everytime he swore he'd be poorer than Gumshoe.

Athena: Yeah, not frequently but not rarely either. She drops more money in the jar if she swears in another language.

Edgeworth (Miles): He canonically swears. "What the hell is that wriggling piece of plywood?!" He would absolutely use a swear jar to control himself.

Edgeworth (Gregory): No, he's a very polite, serious man. Although Von Karma sure has tested him.

Mia: Considering that her coping mechanism around Dahlia was to slap poor Grossberg, I think she would have sorely needed a swear jar.

Ryuunosuke: I don't think Ryuu needs to swear to be a savage.

Susato: A proper lady such as herself would never think of swearing! She totally has a Susato Takedown jar, though.

(bonus: Maya, since she was playable in 2-4. Since I think she grew up fairly sheltered in Kurain Village, Maya probably repeats the swears she hears on TV with the eagerness of a kid. She doesn't have a swear jar, but Phoenix threatens her to not buy her ramen/burgers)

(bonus 2: Yuujin, since he was playable in G2-5. I honestly cannot picture him swearing. Being Herlock's friend makes you very, very patient and tolerant.)

[cicada-circuitry]

#God tho this does make me want to pull back up that notebook fic snippet i had#of Margo confronting Molly about this too but like with science.#Margo would know. Just saying. She knows. ⃪ does this mean you have Molly/Margo fic?

Hi anon! sorry this is now several days late but boy do I. ( watched FAMK for the first time in February, wound up with Pages and pages of fic snippets (for a couple ships, margo x molly included) in chicken scratch on physical paper which is always a great sign that im being normal about a show, thought I'd cure myself if I just watched the whole thing a second time and absolutely only made it worse. )

I meant to answer this ask by just typing up the quick excerpt of the fic I was talking to myself in the tags about but...... started typing and did not stop. It lives over here now! Was not the one of the notebook fics I thought would see the light of day but you know? why not.

(I assume if you're here you, like me, have already read all the fics to be found but if you have Not read everything in that tag already, highly recommend. this fandom may be small but boy did it have good food on offer when I rolled in four years late fresh off a few episodes and absolutely screaming.)

Since I went ahead and dropped that one on ao3 at like 4am i'll throw in something a little more typical of the the notebook archives - how about this thing that exists entirely bc i noticed that used bookstore you can see beside the Outpost in season 1 and it gave me Ideas

Sometime post crossword-quiz / pre- run-in at the Jazz club.  

Margo walks fast past the Outpost on her way over to Bargain Books. When she can, she prefers to park down at the other end of the street and not have to go by that eyesore of a bar in the first place, but when you double the size of the astronaut program with twenty female ascans, you turn street parking into a blood sport. On her salary, no way is she playing chicken with the corvettes, not even to avoid mustering a polite smile for a coworker at his inebriated worst. 

Most days, that’s only an issue if she swings by after dark, the hour when everybody’s trickling out and stumbling home for the evening. Otherwise, the dingy whitewashed plywood keeps a nice impenetrable wall between book-seeking passers-by and drunken test pilots. Today, however, a spell of perfect weather is conspiring against her. Someone has the door propped open with a rusty paint can, letting the sound of laughter of clinking glass spill through it onto the sidewalk. 

A flash of green catches Margo’s eye before she can make it past. Despite herself, she recognizes that shade in an instant. It’s the flannel shirt she had to reprimand earlier that afternoon for bringing a lit cigarette into the sim. Molly Cobb, bent over a pool table, chin twisted up towards Patty Doyle, grinning like a woman about to win.  

Just Margo’s luck that this is the perfect time of day—indoor light matching outdoor light—for Molly to catch her eye straight through the open door as she makes her shot. 8-ball, dead in the pocket. 

For no reason she can think of, Margo feels heat rushing up into her cheeks. 

She stalks into Bargain Books in a hurry. 

The sweater-vested owner behind the front desk gives her the polite nod reserved for a good customer (and disinterested conversationalist) as she beelines for Paperback Fiction. She finished Matheson’s Ride the Nightmare last night— should have picked up two when she noticed how short it was in the first place, but nothing else tickled her fancy when she was in here a week ago, so here she is again, browsing spines. Maybe it's time to cave and finally grab a 10¢ copy of Rosemary's Baby from the stack on the end, seeing as it’s the one highly recommended title in her genre-of-choice the entire country seems to have read in the last couple years, but she already knows the ending (and the entire premise of demonic pregnancy does not appeal for tuning out after the work day). 

She’s dubiously eying the back-cover blurb on a Chandler detective thriller instead when a voice over her shoulder says, “Oh, Patty loves this shit.” 

To her great chagrin, Margo jumps, gasps, and drops her book. “Jesus, Molly.” 

“My bad.” 

Molly squats down to pick it up, slouchy brown corduroy flexing over her thighs. She fixes a bend in the cover before offering it back to her, but when Margo tries to take it away, Molly doesn’t let go. Instead, she adopts a playfully quirked brow and tugs it back towards herself inch-by-inch, bringing Margo, frowning, a step closer than she was before. “Came here to see if I could talk you into a drink.” 

Margo’s voice comes out approximately four steps too high as she looks around for some explanatory audience and says incredulously, “In there?” with a jerk of her thumb towards the Outpost’s adjoining wall. 

“Yeah. NASA central, shithole though it may be, but I never see you around.” 

“Well, I’m not an astronaut.” 

“Neither are the five white-shirts who monopolize the best booth in the back six nights a week. They don’t check for a pin at the door, Madison. That’d be no way to run a business. It’s a bar. Come have a drink with me.” 

“With… you.” She asks because she expects there to be an and. Me and the other ascans. Me and the rest of you white-shirt types in the back. Me and Patty Doyle. 

But Molly just raps the cover of The Lady in the Lake with her knuckles and says again, “With me.”

[thekingofgear]

Thom Yorke's Guitar and Bass Pedalboard for The Smile's June 2024 Tour

A photo of Thom's pedalboard at Stadtpark Open Air in Hamburg on June 8, 2024. One can also see the back of Robert Stillman's pedalboard.

Thom playing his modified vintage Gibson EB0 at Stadtpark Open Air in Hamburg on June 8, 2024 (Stadtpark Open Air).

The Smile’s tour back in March was their first since the release of Wall of Eyes on January 26, 2024. However, much of that album had already been recorded at Abbey Road in early 2023. As such, a lot of the instruments used on the album were already known, since the band had testing new tracks on the road since 2022. Even so, the band brought plenty of surprises for the March tour, using the new gear both to play tracks off the album and for songs that are as yet unreleased.

The band’s setup for the latest July tour is quite similar to their setup in March, but Thom continues to experiment with new effects on the top row of his guitar and bass pedalboard. As we mentioned in our last post, his vocal pedalboard has remained nearly identical for the past few years. On this tour, it seems that Thom is particularly interested in experimenting with analog delays for his electric guitar. He already had an EQD Disaster Transport and an EHX Deluxe Memory Man XO back in March, but he’s now added a Fairfield Circuitry Meet Maude to the mix! (Thom’s Death By Audio Echo Dream 2 uses a PT2399 chip, which is technically digital but is meant function similar to analog delay chips, giving even more "analog" tones.)

Thom has also removed his EarthQuaker Devices Grand Orbiter V3 (he actually did so before the tour in March). That pedal was pretty essential to Bodies Laughing, so it seems unlikely that the band will play that track again, unless Thom has decided to use a cleaner guitar tone for the track.

The bottom row has remained the same since the Smile's Nov-Dec 2022 Tour (analysis of that board here). Those pedals provide his core guitar sounds, and are used consistently to perform songs off of A Light For Attracting Attention.

Complete Pedal List

Bottom Row, Right-To-Left:

Boss TU3 tuner (for bass)

Boss TU3 tuner (for guitar)

Boss RE20 Space Echo delay

Death By Audio Echo Dream 2 fuzz/delay

Pladask Elektrisk Fabrikat V3 granular sampler

Death By Audio Interstellar Overdriver

Earthquaker Devices Astral Destiny reverb

Top Row, Right-To-Left:

Earthquaker Devices Disaster Transport Legacy Reissue delay

Earthquaker Devices Plumes overdrive

Electro-Harmonix Deluxe Memory Man XO delay

Fairfield Circuitry Meet Maude delay

Earthquaker Devices Blumes overdrive

Origin Effects Cali76 compressor

Earthquaker Devices Hoof fuzz

As in the past, there also appears to be an Electro-Harmonix Hum Debugger hidden under the shelf at the back of the board (look behind the Blumes and Meet Maude). Thom uses the Debugger to reduce hum when using his vintage bass guitars with single coils.

The front edge of the Hum Debugger's silver enclosure and its footswitch can be just barely made out. The second image has increased exposure, revealing the "electro-harmonix" text on the face of the pedal.

Power Supply

Also note the evenly spaced white “blocks” in the shadows of the shelf. The white blocks are connections for power on The Gig Rig’s Distributor and/or Isolators units. These show that Thom is still using The Gig Rig’s Generator power system. Ed was the first member of Radiohead to use The Gig Rig’s power supplies back in 2014, when the company assembled their first custom pedalboard for Ed. Thom switched over around 2021, when The Smile played their first show on a Glastonbury live stream. The power supplies are clearly visible on Thom’s NPR Tiny Desk board from November 2022 as well.

Zooming in to get a better look at the Gig Rig power supply units.

Patchbay

All of The Smile’s custom black plywood pedalboards are fitted with patchbays at the back. A patchbay is just a set of jacks, which allow external cables to be plugged into the back of the pedalboard instead of connecting the cable directly to pedals on the board. The other side of the patchbay is connected to the first and last pedals in the signal chain with normal patch cables. This makes it way easier to set up the board, and also to swap out an entire pedalboard if there’s a mystery problem (as mentioned in our March Rehearsal Setup post, Thom and Jonny each have a (nearly) identical backup board).

Bass Guitar Signal Chain

The exact sequence of the guitar chain is too complex to guess at, but based on previous tours it’s possible to have a good guess about the bass signal chain.

Bass Guitar

Patchbay (input)

Electro-Harmonix Hum Debugger

Boss TU3 tuner

Earthquaker Devices Blumes

Origin Effects Cali76 compressor

Earthquaker Devices Hoof fuzz

Patchbay (output)

DI Box (sends signal to amplifier and FOH mixer)

Fender Super Bassman amplifier

Here's a bonus photo of Thom playing his vintage Fender Jazz bass during Read the Room at the Northside Festival in Aarhus on June 6, 2024 (photo by Joshua Mellin via Flood Magazine). Thom previously used his modified vintage Gibson EB0 bass for the song, but he's been using the Jazz Bass since the start of the March 2024 tour. His Hum Debugger pedal probably helps when he's playing this guitar, since the instrument features single coils.