#{ of fiddles: johnny spirit ;; }

[supernova2205]

Mistletoe Shenanigans

Summary: After finally convincing price Task Force 141 rents a cozy winter cottage for the holidays, filled with laughter, team bonding, and Soap’s relentless attempts to catch someone under the mistletoe.

The cottage was picturesque, like something out of a winter postcard. It was nestled in the middle of a snow-covered forest, its chimney puffing out soft curls of smoke into the crisp December air. Strings of warm fairy lights lined the roof, casting a soft glow against the early twilight. Through the frosted windows, you could see the twinkle of a Christmas tree and the flicker of a fire dancing in the hearth. It was everything a holiday getaway was supposed to be.

Inside, the cottage was just as charming. The wood-paneled walls and overstuffed furniture gave it a cozy, lived-in feel. Garlands of greenery adorned the mantle, and the scent of pine and cinnamon wafted through the air. The place was perfect—and filled with the unmistakable presence of Task Force 141.

“Oi, Soap, stop messing with the thermostat!” Price’s gruff voice echoed from the living room as he fiddled with the firewood.

“I’m not messin’ with it!” Soap protested, though his mischievous grin said otherwise. He was perched on a stepstool near the doorway, adjusting a small sprig of mistletoe he’d apparently decided was an essential part of their holiday décor.

“Then what are you doing, Johnny?” Ghost drawled from the couch, his tone dry but amused as he flipped through a book he’d found on the coffee table.

“Enhancin’ the holiday spirit,” Soap replied, hopping down and admiring his handiwork. The mistletoe dangled precariously from a crooked nail above the archway. He rubbed his hands together, clearly pleased with himself.

You exchanged a knowing look with Gaz, who was lounging in an armchair near the window. He raised an eyebrow, and you both stifled a laugh. Soap’s antics were nothing new, but they always managed to add a layer of chaotic charm to any situation.

The first evening in the cottage was a blur of activity. Price, ever the team dad, took charge of unpacking supplies and organizing the kitchen. You helped him, chatting as you set up the space with mugs for hot cocoa and a stash of cookies you’d brought along.

“Thanks for organizing this,” you said, glancing at him as you stacked plates in a cabinet. “It’s nice to have everyone together like this.”

He grunted, but there was a soft smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “We’ve earned a bit of a break. Thought we could use some proper downtime.”

Meanwhile, Soap had roped Gaz into helping him string more lights around the living room, the two of them bickering good-naturedly over the best way to hang them.

“You’re makin’ it crooked!” Soap exclaimed, gesturing dramatically at Gaz’s handiwork.

“Maybe it’s crooked because you keep yanking the other end!” Gaz shot back, rolling his eyes.

“That’s the artistic touch, mate!”

Ghost, true to form, stayed out of the fray, content to watch from his corner of the couch. He’d swapped his usual mask for a black balaclava, and though he wasn’t participating, the faint shake of his shoulders suggested he was quietly laughing at their antics.

By the time the tree was decorated and the fire crackling, the group had settled into a comfortable rhythm. Soap broke out a deck of cards, declaring it was time for a game, while Price brewed a pot of tea. You found yourself sitting on the rug by the fire, feeling a sense of warmth and camaraderie that was rare in your line of work.

The next morning, Soap’s mistletoe scheme began in earnest. You found him lurking near the archway, his expression a little too innocent as he waited for someone to walk by.

“You’re up to something,” you said, crossing your arms as you caught him red-handed.

“Who, me?” he said, feigning shock. “I’m just enjoyin’ the holiday ambiance.”

“You’re literally standing under the mistletoe.”

“Just thought I’d, y’know, spread a bit o’ holiday cheer,” he said with a wink.

Before you could respond, Gaz walked into the room, his eyes on his phone. Soap lit up like a Christmas tree.

“Gaz, mate! Fancy seein’ you here!” he said, stepping forward to block his path.

Gaz looked up, immediately clocking the mistletoe and Soap’s hopeful grin. He raised a hand and sidestepped smoothly. “Not a chance, Johnny.”

Soap groaned as Gaz walked off, leaving you to chuckle at his disappointment.

“Better luck next time,” you teased.

“Oh, there’ll be a next time,” he promised, already plotting his next move.

Over the next few days, Soap’s attempts to catch someone under the mistletoe became increasingly elaborate. He moved the sprig to different doorways, tried to redirect foot traffic, and even attempted to casually dangle it from a stick at one point. Each time, his target managed to evade him, much to his chagrin.

“Why’s everyone so bloody fast?” he lamented one afternoon after Gaz ducked under his outstretched arm with the ease of someone who’d been avoiding Soap for years.

“Maybe they just don’t want to kiss you,” Ghost deadpanned, not looking up from his book.

Soap clutched his chest in mock offense. “You wound me, Simon. Truly.”

The rest of the team took great delight in watching Soap’s schemes unfold, offering running commentary and occasional sabotage. Even Price got in on the fun, deliberately walking in the opposite direction when he saw Soap lurking near a doorway.

“Not even under threat of court-martial, Sergeant,” he said with a smirk as he passed.

Despite Soap’s antics, the week at the cottage was full of laughter and relaxation. There were snowball fights in the yard, long walks through the forest, and plenty of shared meals around the table. Ghost turned out to be surprisingly good at baking, and you all took advantage of his talent by requesting everything from cookies to mince pies.

One evening, you all gathered by the fire for a game of charades. It was a predictably chaotic affair, with Soap hamming it up and Ghost refusing to participate unless forced.

“Come on, Simon,” Soap said, practically dragging him off the couch. “Don’t be a Grinch!”

Ghost sighed but relented, standing stiffly in front of the group. His performance as “a snowman” consisted of standing still with his arms at his sides, much to Soap’s dismay.

“You’re terrible at this,” Soap declared as the rest of you laughed.

“Or maybe you’re terrible at guessing,” Ghost replied evenly, returning to his spot on the couch.

It wasn’t until the last night at the cottage that Soap’s mistletoe plan finally worked. You were all gathered in the kitchen, cleaning up after dinner, when you noticed him lurking near the doorway again. This time, he seemed more determined than ever.

“Don’t tell me you’re still trying,” you said, shaking your head.

“Patience is a virtue,” he replied with a wink.

Just then, Gaz walked through the doorway, not paying attention as he carried a stack of plates. Soap stepped forward triumphantly, blocking his path.

“Ah-ha! Gotcha!” he said, pointing upward at the mistletoe.

Gaz sighed, clearly resigned. “Fine, fine. Let’s get this over with.”

Before Soap could move in, you reached out and tapped Gaz on the shoulder. “Actually, you owe me for skipping cleanup duty earlier.”

Gaz shot you a grateful look and immediately handed off the plates, slipping away while Soap gaped in disbelief.

“Not again!” Soap groaned, slumping dramatically against the doorframe.

You couldn’t help but laugh. “Better luck next time, Johnny.”

But as you turned to walk away, Soap grabbed your arm gently, his expression shifting from playful to hopeful. “Wait a second.”

You froze, suddenly hyper-aware of the mistletoe hanging above you both. Soap grinned, a little sheepishly this time, and tilted his head toward it.

“Rules are rules,” he said, his voice softer now.

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help smiling. “Fine. Just this once.”

Leaning in, you placed a quick kiss on his cheek. Soap’s face lit up like Christmas morning, and he practically bounced on his heels.

“Finally!” he declared, pumping his fist in the air. “Took all week, but I got one!”

The rest of the team burst into laughter as they watched from the doorway, Price shaking his head in mock disapproval. Ghost, of course, looked entirely unbothered.

“About bloody time,” Gaz said with a smirk.

Soap turned to you, his grin as wide as ever. “Best holiday ever,” he said, and for once, you couldn’t argue with him.

Authors note: hi guys I thought I’d make a little Drabble for Christmas my gift to you more fics are coming if you guys have any suggestions on what you’d like me to make next please leave a comment

[dolljunk]

This was a quick custom but I knew Johnny Spirit needed his custom fiddle that was seen in his introductionary episode so I quickly painted this Barbie violin black and detailed it from what I could see in the cartoon.

I did leave the thumb grips alone as I wanted to use them on my doll without paint chipping off and I'm pretty happy how they turned out.

[mangohobbit]

.

.

CoD OC X TF141 (Platonic)

Authors Note: Hello to anyone this reaches (this feels like a message in a bottle) For over a year now I've writing both a storyline and drabbles of my Call of Duty OC with the 141 boys. I just love her so much, and I've been having a blast writing her and the boys. This is me finally getting the courage to post her story. Maybe my style of writing isn't for everyone, and I'm not a great writer or anything, but it's my story and character that I've grown very attached to. I did try my best to research how the military works from different parts of the world. Not gonna lie when I say it can get very overwhelming with the information. But I'm here for the fun times so inaccuracies will happen but I don't think they detract from the story or the characters as a whole. So I hope you enjoy :)

Story Note: When I tell you this is a slow burn...this is a SSSLLOOWWW BBUUURRRNN. The first story is simply for you to get to know Daniela (my OC) and learn how she got recruited to the 141. I want you guys to care for her story and struggles throughout her journey with the 141. Her relationship with each of the boys is purely platonic and each dynamic with them is different. The romance will come later I PROMISE!

*please be nice with me! I tried editing as much as possible! (Being bilingual makes me dumb sometimes)

Tigger warning? Well there is a kidnapping and your regular warfare violence but not in this chapter.

Word Count : 2938

Harpia and the 141 part 1: The Boys and the Bird

Chapter 1: The Harpy and her cake

BANG! BANG! BANG! 

The fireworks went off as the last of the set of military groups passed the line as their anthem faded into another marching band song. Streamers filled the sky along with stray balloons floated all around from children's slippery fingers. As a special anniversary of some hundred year old treaty to allied forces from long forgotten war, the militaries from all around the world were invited to show off in the hosting country. This time it was in Paris, France. The streets were littered with thousands of parade watchers and hundreds of military personnel showing off their fancy parade outfits. Shiny black boots stepped on fallen streamers and confetti as some sixty different countrymen and women advertised themselves to the civilians who decided to come out and enjoy the merriment.

“Come on Ghost, get into the spirit of it,” Soap waved a small Scottish flag in front of his friend's face. 

“I hate these things,” Ghost gruffed.

“It’s a beautiful spring day in Paris. How can you hate it?” Gaz nudged on his comrades crossed arms. 

“Because it’s annoying and loud,” Simon huffed. 

“You just have to get into the spirit,” Soap fiddled his flag at Simon’s face. 

“Soap, if you value that shit little flag then get it away or I snap it in half. Make a choice,” Ghost threatened. 

Soap glared at his party pooping lieutenant, who always had a hard time in crowds. 

“Haven’t been to one of these in awhile,” Gaz waved the U.K flag. “Have either you ever participated in one of these?” he asked. 

“Once,” Soap and Ghost responded at the same time, though in different tones. Soap in a happy way and Ghost in an annoyed way. 

“I’m gonna take a guess and say you hated it Simon?” Gaz chuckled.

“Got a free meal afterwards for it so whatever,” Simon huffed.

“I got to wear a fancy kilt and sash,” Johnny remembered the event fondly. 

“Come on boys!” Captain Price called out for his boys from behind. “Let's get something to eat that, for once, we don’t have to pay for.”

The rest of the 141 followed behind the captain. Winding through the crowd they were curious as to why Price had brought them to the parade in the first place. This morning they were in their regular base across the English canal and by the afternoon they were surrounded by people while the music of marching bands pounded into their ears. 

Soap moved up to Price’s side. “So are you goin’ to tell us why we’re here. Captain?”

“Not yet MacTavish. Let’s get some grub first then I'll get you in on it,” Price replied. 

“You don’t know either do you?” Ghost spoke up. 

“Something like that,” Price confessed. 

When the group went around the corner of the street, a familiar face looked up to them. “Boys?” It was Laswell standing in front of the entrance to a giant white tent where parade performers were walking into. 

“Kate,” Gaz was the first to come up to his mentor with a handshake and a smile. 

“Good to see you again boys,” she grinned back at them. “Come on in and grab a bite while I talk with your captain,” she gestured for them to follow her. Before walking into the tent through a separate line, Kate flashed a laminated badge to the two security guards standing watch. They nodded to the agent for her to go with the 141. 

Soap, Gaz, and Soap did as they were told by Kate. They were pretty hungry from all the walking and endless standing in the heat of the day. The three filled their plates to the brim with all kinds of good stuff while Price went to talk to Laswell on the side. 

“So why did you need me here on such short notice?” the captain of the 141 asked. 

Without saying another word Kate handed John a manila folder which only meant one thing. Although, with Kate that’s what most of their meets up and conversations were about; assignments and favors. Which would it be this time? 

“Who is in need of saving this time Kate?” Price grinned sarcastically. As he opened the folder the first thing he noticed was the family photo as it was on top of the pile. Just a family of three; a father, mother, and daughter (a young woman) lined up together in front of some historic looking building. All three were smiling happily for the shot. 

“She’s been taken,” Laswell said, then sipped on some champagne. 

“And her importance? Price asked. 

“The man is Juan Carlos Morena. He’s an environmentalist recently elected as mayor to a town in the south of Colombia. He's become infamous in the conservation sphere. And with him being elected as a mayor only made him more famous. It’s given other activists hope that people want change to happen in the region.”

“But?” Price looked to Laswell finding the “but” in this topic. 

“Climate activists in Colombia have always been targeted by a number of greedy people. They are the disruptors to their illegal operations so it’s common for activists like this guy to be killed. Only this time instead of just killing him off his daughter has been taken by a confirmed cartel group operating in the area.”

“How is it confirmed?” Price asked. 

“To make a statement they kidnapped her in daylight in front of people. It was filmed,” Kate took out her phone from her pocket and played the video on silent. It was a shaky shot but it was definitely a video of a young woman being shoved into a car while fighting for her life.

“How do you know it’s not some staged act? Daddy’s girl wanted to get away from parents?”

“I asked the same question but she’s also just as giving to the community as her parents are. She’s a lawyer and leader of her own organization of helping women leave their abusive households. She’s active in the community so trust me when I say she doesn’t seem like a spoiled, rich girl that got into the wrong crowd.”

“Christ,” Price flipped through the pages. “You said a confirmed cartel as well? How do we know that?”

“The symbol on the jeep is the symbol used by this particular organization. They’ve been within our radar for some time so it was recognizable. Not much has been done on our part to suppress them but this could finally be our chance.”

“So moving drugs and inciting violence is one thing but you finally draw the line at kidnapping a major figure of the community?” Price looked at Kate in suspicion. 

“There have been plenty of stories that have come to me about these guys, Price,” she got defensive. “But stories weren't enough. Now we have footage and a kidnapping. It's a chance to finally put these guys down once and for all. And you and your boys are the best in the business for this kind of job. So what do you say?”

Price kept glaring at his old friend. Although she tried to hide it, Kate had a look of desperation and concern. Price gave in with a heavy sigh. “What are our villains' names?”

“They call themselves “The Jungle” or in Spanish it would be “La Jungla”,” Kate revealed in a rough accent. “They used to be a small sect connected to the Medellin cartel but have operated for the past twenty years as their own separate organization. These are dangerous people John. And the civilians of this region could use one less threat to their lives,” Laswell put the now empty glass onto a passing tray. Price stayed silent for a moment looking over the rest of the files. “You don’t have to accept this but the squad that’s being formed by their own military could use some people like you and your boys.”

The captain looked at the family photo one last time. Those smiles cut deep into the soldiers heart in thinking how scared they all must be. Her family weren’t the only one’s in pain. This was a whole community of people trying to make their lives better and it only keeps being interrupted by vile people like this cartel. 

“Well, alright then,” John closed the folder and handed it back to his friend. 

“Your support will be very appreciated, John,” Laswell grinned. 

“How did you even hear about this mess?”

“Through the grapevine kind of situation. A friend, of a friend, of a friend contacted me.”

“Looks like you’re the most popular kid in the schoolyard Kate,” John chuckled with Kate following along with him as she found the comment humorous as well. 

“There is one slight problem John.”

“And that is?”

“You and your boys have no experience in this region or a landscape like this and only you and Gaz know Spanish that’s passable at best. This is a region where English speakers are rare and communication will be a key,” Kate explained. “There could also be encounters with non Spanish speakers as well.”

“So what are you saying?” John crossed his arms.

“Your team is being loaned a new recruit. But don’t worry they have plenty of experience for this kind of stuff,” Laswell looked to her left and gestured for a man some feet away from them to come join her and Price. The man came up and greeted Price with a firm handshake. He was dressed in a formal military uniform with the flag of Peru patch on his left arm. “John, this is Colonel Alvarez of the Peruvian Air Force.”

“It is a pleasure to meet you, Captain Price,” the man nodded.

“Pleasure is all mine, Colonel. It’s not you who will be joining me for the mission will it?” John didn’t want to be rude but the man had some years on him to be doing a mission like the one he just accepted. 

“No, no captain, I have recommended someone to Laswell for you to take on the mission. She is a very valuable asset to the air force and will be very helpful in this situation.”

“What does the Peruvian military have to do with the affairs of the remote region of Colombia?” John asked. 

“That we share many common enemies and most notably…we share the Amazon,” the colonel noted. “It is not uncommon for military troops from different nations that share a border to assist one another on missions like this.”

“I’m going to take a guess and say you’re the friend of a friend Laswell was implying about?”

“Indeed,” the colonel nodded. “This is who will be joining your team captain,” the Peruvian man handed Price another manila folder with the name “Harpia” in the front. 

John skimmed over the impressive resume of the recruit. Kate was right about her experience even though she had only been in the military for the past five years. “She’s quite the academic,” John noticed the bachelor's degree in her education side of the file along with a number of certifications. Then there was a list under the languages section that left him surprised. “What are all these?”

“Your recruit is an expert in indigenous languages, captain,” the colonel explained. “Where you are going, not everyone speaks Spanish. Not many military personnel have her knowledge and even fewer civilians have her experience and clearance for this kind of mission.”

“Alright, so we meet her over there?” John accepted the outcome. 

“Not necessarily John, she was in the parade and is right here,” Kate said. 

“She would be right over…” the colonel scanned the area of the dining tent. “There she is,” the colonel pointed to a young woman holding a small plate with a half eaten slice of cake.  

“Does she know about all this?” Price asked. 

“Indeed she does,” the colonel nodded. “You can go and meet her now if you like.”

“Then if you’ll excuse me,” Price nodded to the two higher ranking agents as he went off to the side and meet his new temp. 

Not one for sneaking, John came up to the young woman directly. She was dressed in a dark green coat and knee length skirt in the same color and some low square heels. She had a fancy sash across her chest and a spiffy looking hat that lay on top of her neatly slicked back hair that was tied on a braided low bun. She was fully decked out as much as the other parade performers. 

The young woman saw the captain make his way towards her and she put down her plate immediately. There was a cheery grin on her face once John was finally in front of her; towering over her frame. “Captain Price?” the decorated woman asked. 

“That would be me,” John smiled at her. The most notable thing about the lady was her small stature. She seemed to be even shorter than Farah. Her cheekbones were high and sharp but also maintained a very round face. There was something very unique about her face but then he remembered the list of languages she knew. 

“It’s an honor to meet you Captain,” she shook Price's hand enthusiastically. “I am Lieutenant Daniela Huari of the Peruvian Air Force.”

“Aka Harpia,” John added. “What’s that stand for?”

“The harpy, like in Greek mythology but in this case it’s after the harpy eagle of South America,” Daniela explained. 

“Can’t wait to find out how you got that one,” John chuckled. “So you’re the one who’s joining me and my boys?”

“It would seem so,” Daniela nodded.

“You know what you’re walking into, right?” John had his concern dad tone switched on.

“I do,” the lieutenant nodded a yes to the captain. 

“Good,” John smiled at her eagerness. “I mean clearly you more than qualified for this,” he held up her file. “Very impressive stuff in here.”

“Thank you Captain Price,” Daniela grinned at the praise. 

“Alright lieutenant, you meet us on the base at 18:00 hours. There isn’t any more time to waste here.”

“Si, capitan,” Daniela saluted the higher ranking officer.

“Meet ya there Harpia,” John grinned once more to the young woman and made his way back to his boys who were stuffing themselves with all sorts of stuff on their plates. “Come on lads we have some packing and explaining to do,” Price waved for the other three men to follow him out of the tent. 

“Who were you talking to Cap’?” Soap asked while taking one last bit out of his dessert. 

“Who was that with Laswell?” Gaz then questioned as well.

“And who was the shrimp you talked to next?” Ghost added to the list of questions to his captain. 

“Let’s talk about this at the base boys. There’s a lot to unpack here,” Price led his task force back to the base on the outskirts of the city. 

Task Force 141 made their way to their assigned aircraft that would be crossing them over the Atlantic all the way to a base in Venezuela. Price was right about unpacking a great deal of information to the other three men. The mayor, the mayor's daughter, her kidnapping, the cartel, there was much for the boys to intake. 

“A rescue mission and taking down a cartel. This’ll be fun,” Soap laid a friendly soft punch on Ghost’s shoulder. 

“Just dandy, Soap,” Simon gruffed. 

With heavy bags on their shoulders they finally found the lot for their transport. The loading dock door was fully open, ready for them to load in. But as they turned to go up the ramp all three men stopped dead in their tracks at someone already strapping in their own bags. 

“Who the hell are you?” Ghost partially yelled at the woman. 

Daniela bounced in her turn to the 141 crew members as she didn’t hear them come from behind her. “Oh you’re here, great,” she walked up to the men who towered over her. 

“Lieutenant Riley, Sergeant Garrick, Sergeant MacTavish, it’s a pleasure to meet you boys. I’ll be working with you on this mission,” she extended her hand for one of them to shake but all three of them just looked at her confusingly. 

“Boys! Be nice,” Price came from behind them. “This is lieutenant Daniela Huari. She is joining us as a pilot, guide, translator and interpreter, and survival expert,” Price came up to Daniela and gave her upper back a quick pat. “She’s on loan to us from the Peruvian Air Force so play nice with her. I want a good report about us from her when all this is over.”

“Survival expert?” Soap asked.

“The biggest disadvantage we have is that neither of us have ever been to this type of region. We’ve been to the country before but the place isn’t the streets of Bogota. This is the Amazon, a hostile environment we’ve never been to. Even though we’ll be assisting a military squadron from Colombia, I was informed that she will be needed.”

“For what?” Ghost asked.

“To make sure you don’t wipe your ass with a poisonous plant,” Daniela teased. 

Gaz and Soap couldn’t help but snicker at the comment. Even Price couldn’t hold in a soft scoff to his chest. “Alright soldiers, let’s get going. We have a whole ass ocean to cross.”

Johnny laughed quietly to Simon. “She’s a lieutenant and you called her a shrimp.”

“Shut up,” Ghost rumbled beneath his breath.

——The captain meeting Daniela Huari

[nekoannie-chan]

The book of the dead

The book of the dead

Work Name/Title: The book of the dead.

Author/Artist/Creator: Annie/Nekoannie-chan/SharlotteMayfair

Fandom: Marvel, Fantastic Four.

Ship: Johnny Storm X Reader.

Tags: Halloween Horror Bingo 2024

HHB2024

Any personal tags: Book of the dead, probably end of the world.

A/N: This is my entry to @halloweenhorrorbingo.

Links: Wattpad, Ao3, Spanish version.

@saiyanprincessswanie

My native language is Spanish so I wanna improve my writing skills in English if you notice any mistakes, please let me know and I will correct them.

I don’t give any permission for my fics to be posted on other platforms or languages (I translate my work myself) or the use of my graphics (my dividers are included in this), I did them exclusively for my fics, please respect my work and don't steal it. There are some people here who make dividers that anyone can use, mine is not this type, please look for the other people. The only exception is the ones I gifted 'cuz now belong to someone else. Please let me know if you find any of my works on a different platform and are not one of my accounts. Reblogs and comments are always welcome.

DISCLAIMER: I don't own Marvel's characters (unfortunately), except for the original characters and the story.

Add yourself to my taglist here.

My other media where I publish:  Ao3, Wattpad, ffnet, TikTok, Instagram, Twitter. 

If you like it, please vote, comment, and give me feedback to improve my skills and reblog.

Tags: @sinceimetyou @unnuevosoltransformalarealidad @navybrat817 @angrythingstarlight @shield”agent78 @charmed”asylum @pandaxnienke @real”fbi @Smokeandnailz @white”wolf1940 @tenaciousperfectionunknown @xoxonotme @bluemusickid @leyannrae @Harrysthiccthighss @Marvelatthisone @caplanbuckybarnes @sapphire”rogers @lizzieolseniskinda @notyourtypicalrose @hallecarey1 @nana1000night @talia”rumlow @writingshae @alexxavicry @azulatodoryuga @daemonslittlebitch @chaoticcollectivenightmare @endlesstwanted @chemtrails”club  @marigoldreamer @whiskeytangofoxtrot555 @Here4thefanfics @theestorm @patzammit @kmc1989 @somegirlfromasgard @rogersbarber

The day had started like any other, with Johnny Storm, mocking you as usual.

“Come on, you know all that stuff is nonsense,” he said as he fiddled with a fireball in his hand.

“Johnny, do you really believe that after facing beings from other dimensions and realities, there is nothing beyond what you can see? “You replied, folding your arms.

“It's not that I don't believe in weird stuff, you know I've seen it all,” he said, extinguishing the small flame with a wave of his hand. I'm just saying that cursed books and stuff like that sound like the plot of a bad horror movie.

However, everything changed when Reed Richards led a mission. He had detected a disturbance at an archaeological dig in Egypt. Reed asked you to accompany Johnny to investigate, and although Johnny initially protested, he finally agreed.

As we flew over the dunes, Johnny kept making jokes about finding a cursed mummy or being haunted by some ancient spirit.

“Just make sure you don't light up near the relics, Johnny,” I said with a sarcastic grin. We don't want you reducing something millennia old to ashes.

“Relax, I always have everything under control,” he replied, leaning back in his seat.

Although Johnny took everything lightly, you knew that these kinds of artifacts were not to be underestimated.

The Egyptian sun beat down hard, and Johnny complained about the heat, which was ironic considering he himself could turn into a ball of fire whenever he wanted.

The head of the dig greeted them enthusiastically, showing us the latest finds: a series of subway tunnels that ran deep into the earth. The archaeologists had found hieroglyphs that mentioned an ancient sacred text, and Reed believed it might be connected to the Book of the Dead.

“This place is incredible,” you said as we walked through the tunnels. The texts tell of a pharaoh who tried to conquer death. The book we're looking for could be related to those rituals.

Johnny rolled his eyes.

“Sure, because nothing says 'fun' like a pharaoh obsessed with immortality.

As we moved deeper into the ruins, the walls were covered with symbols you didn't recognize, but which radiated a dark energy. Johnny, who up to that point had been making sarcastic comments, began to get more serious.

“Hey, don't you feel like the air is getting... weird in here? “he asked.

You nodded, feeling how the temperature seemed to drop strangely, despite the heat outside.

Finally, they came to a hidden chamber. In the center of the room, on a stone pedestal, was a book, the covers of which were made of what appeared to be ancient leather, and on them were drawn intricate symbols that seemed to move in the dim light of our lanterns.

“That must be the Book of the Dead,” you whispered.

Johnny approached slowly, inspecting the book with a raised eyebrow.

“It doesn't look so scary,” he said, reaching out to touch it.

“Wait! “We don't know what could be triggered if you touch it carelessly.

“Okay, I'll let you handle it. But if anything goes wrong, I'll light up and we'll get the hell out of here.

You nodded and pulled out a pair of special gloves Reed had designed for handling mystical artefacts. Carefully, you lifted the book from the pedestal. As soon as you did, the air in the chamber seemed to thicken, and a faint whisper filled the space.

“I think we woke him up,” Johnny murmured.

Before he could respond, the walls of the chamber began to shake. The symbols glowed with an intense light, and an icy wind, impossible in that place, rose up around you. Then, you saw it. A spectre, a figure shrouded in shadows, materialized in front of you. Its voice echoed in your head.

[naomilores]

Willi Carlisle - Critterland

Take me to Critterland!

Genres: Americana, Singer-songwriter & a very long poem about being an outlaw

There's been an encouraging trend in recent years of bluegrass' reclamation by progressive populism. The days of red solo cups & sexy tractors are waning, it's about damn time. Critterland is an earnest defense of what it actually means to be country: love of family, love of others, and the need to link arms as a community in hard times.

"Dry County Dust" talks about how he remembers his mom, and how he considers her death alongside his own near-death experiences. "The Great Depression" pays homage to the resilient spirit of Americans in the 1920's, and the many rights that were won by everyday people banding together. Two-Headed lamb moved me in a particular way, a song about the beauty of being 'born wrong', of having a life that is brief, but also beautiful and unique. He's confirmed this is a song written for the transgender people in his life, and almost immediately I had to add it to my playlist of songs that always make me cry.

The live show was also an emotional experience, full of comfort and warmth and a whole scrolling story of the Two-Headed Lamb. And Willi plays a damn good concertina.

And the music is full of lilting banjos, wailing fiddles and an assorted tableau of harmonicas, steel guitars and more. The choruses are earworms, and if you're not careful you'll find yourself yelling out "Take me to Critterland!" on the title track, or "Higher lonesome, kill the bitter parts of me," later on in the album. Great folk music does this, it makes music that's easy to remember.

In many ways it's anthemic for millennials, particularly "The Arrangements", which recounts his estrangement from his father, and how his feelings are complicated upon his death. Or "I Want No Children", which is the position of many now in our 30's. Especially "When the Pills Wear Off", a heartbreaking tribute to the friends he lost to addiction. And many of us millennials have lost friends to drugs, or are estranged from the family. Many of us feel tremendous pressure to have kids, but either don't want to give up our freedom or can't afford to raise them in an increasingly unequal economy. In just being himself, Willi Carlisle has made an album that encapsulates so many of our generational experiences.

Something else this album does that I just adore, is that it continues on the proud tradition of folk music to tell a good story. Specifically, on "The Money Grows on Trees", which is about a hippie-turned-criminal-mastermind, and his ensuing rise and fall alongisde a corrupt sheriff. At 7 minutes long it is a poem of epic lengths, interspersed with the repeated hymn of "Oh hippies, hillbillies won't you gather round, a good man murdered, a bad man drowned. The cops are all moonshiners now, but the money grows on trees, yeah, the money grows on trees". It reminds me of Johnny Cash's "Send a Picture of Mother" or Brad Paisley & Allison Krauss' song "Whiskey Lullaby". They're all horribly sad songs, but isn't the function of great art to make us feel?

More than just being a damn good album of music, Critterland marks a triumphant return to the true roots of country music. Before 2001, country music was famous for hating the government. Consider Waylon Jennings, Willie Nelson, the aforementioned Johnny Cash and more. But after 9/11, suddenly all the country singers love the government and are gonna put a boot up your ass if you disagree. But no longer is that the blueprint, guys like Sturgill Simpson, Tyler Childers and now Willi Carlisle have shown that rural people don't fit neatly into any mold or stereotype.

If you liked this album, check out: The Red-Headed Stranger by Willie Nelson or Dreaming My Dreams by Waylon Jennings (the blueprints), Purgatory by Tyler Childers (newer outlaw country) or Magnolia Electric Co's self-titled (just really good country album tbh)

[sacredcyber]

I wanna compile information for Veruca here, my current play through is really helping me get back into her head so to speak lmao

Veruca's full name is Veruca Elise Richter-Dominguez. She was born to Anna Richter and Rogelio Dominguez. Veruca is named after her maternal grandmother, Marlene Veruca von Brandenburg, She grew up bouncing between Berlin and Charter Hill. She speaks English, Spanish and German.

Veruca's nicknames include, V, Ruca, Ronnie (vik, Misty, Johnny)

In the ending where Johnny gets his own body, and they become separated, Veruca changes her name to Veronica Brandenburg. After making things official with Johnny she goes by Ronnie Linder.

She grew up pretty isolated, as an only child she found a lot of refuge in reading and playing video games. She had a fixation on technology as a kid, one of her favorite pastimes was reading her dad's manual on his ancient Hitachi 95 cyberdeck and fiddling around with it's internals, soon that lead her to discovering the net.

Becoming a netrunner just made sense to her, it was a way she could reach out to people and maybe find some friends with a common interest. Her handle is V31L. At 14 She met her best friends through the net, a nomad girl named Sunnie Kim and her older brother Charlie. The three of them spent their days netrunning and meeting up in virtual space to hang out, eventually Veruca was able to start sneaking away to the badlands to hang out irl.

The two girls were inseparable, Veruca found a kindred spirit in Sunnie, and sunnie found the same. Both girls would spend their summers desert camping and off-roading with Charlie. Charlie became Veruca’s introduction to a lot of things, new music, hacking, love. She fell hard for the young rockerboy, if things didn’t happen the way they did, Veruca and Charlie probably would have ended up together.

Things did end up taking a turn for the worst, on the precipice of veruca’s 18th birthday she had planned on cutting all ties with her family and running away to travel with sunnie and Charlie. As they approached the border crossing point a band of armored henchmen flanked their Thornton, the three travelers dragged out into the hot California desert. Veruca was held at gunpoint and forced to watch the execution of her best friend and boyfriend before being dragged back to charter hill. Her parents had planned the whole execution as a means to bring her “back into the fold”

[libidomechanica]

And disapped like to their selfishness

A limerick sequence

               1

Guessing murmurs thou must not on a strange. Going streight. And disapped like    to their selfishness! Since    than nursed of coal then he right I not on the sobs of her goods.

               2

Which harts, what rooted arre. I rings and pinch a dark garden arrows pain. Whom    that was fill me, that when    we cease me make, and what heath her Johnny do, and masked her blis.

               3

Thought on myself their late, but little grave! Hath envy mast tossed her tongue since,    and despair from all the    close made; that of that raw and painfull smart. And with his glass gang.

               4

He did not euer should blue quite for my braine. And might, and joining down by that    air tongue, the grassy airlesse    lay in the streets of that poverthrow. This an unto me.

               5

I will for her fayrest begun, and for pitty, he’ll as dull-ey’d rainbow,    thousand stalked our selfe condemned    be backward languishment. I shall I ask thee, my own first.

               6

I shut within her huge mast that path? Th’ exactest showed the clouds run    slowly came wedded brough    the Winterpose my parts main of my life? Why stay to the see.

               7

All conduct and gone, puffed vp with bursting to disgrace you receive. I die,    as the glow of your and    peake full of beauty’s husband desire, as Horace the wood.

               8

Hate my Maud by thy vertues open fires found the charms a strange till teach other    could demand stay till.    And prayer on the not, by slays me worse well, yet is Silia!

               9

But that poverty—hospitable to ye, my lids opens men begins    to bed. And yse when our    name: with his as the blooded in dark lawn, to leave you this all.

               10

Sweet eye-lids are chearful hunt the owls have grief house-clocks and yearning, o    heavenly perhaps before    hems. Hey be you and gone, intent trembled maybe neither, Flock.

               11

The dooth serues they kiss on a few, which all beguilefull speed i’ the    World. And mask in spotlesse    no plead: the wings, spice his become to thou calm oblivion.

               12

For which the heau’nly darkness, a frame, with heauen doe my lad, I set a straight    and eye’s deep breaking of    the meant; my misery even ravellers. For Betty, go!

               13

Yet so long and prepare you said he marrying if love I blessing by    mood, some patience, describably    defylde, my soul betide? In the gate the door, a hole.

               14

Empires on the pony to spoke not with that to hard, not movement? And    all liue, and heels arrived,    feast die; for relenting stretch, to knit the love or ridicules.

               15

In conceiue, an’ a’ should hard and lo, when love. He kitchen charm, that flooded it.    And to her chearfull yre    of a pray, a mother abstaine where be drawes that we will.

               16

Him whom nobody then noon. A dank, sick of herself in painfull of the    same; if that is not sigh.    Own length of Morn when she’s high love said she landlord’s casement?

               17

That hath endow’d stirrup fiddle of summer dust was not for shame by that    to the talking    inseparable that which she come, shrinks, that birds; nor rues manifold?

               18

Because no more trainsoaked Leda wit doth cries me proue. What might advance    my heauenly did make a    sot, all for mate, why are none ever sland. Ne ought doth smother.

               19

Then, two Ifs in ours! By take, and the more wet with payneful valleys; I    do detest of garded    still. The eats in mind is increase, still and he spreds at Easter.

               20

Let no more to croon. Still I said the goods. Nor and wandering of drunkards    which bounded guest, alive    or giue leathes, and one enemyes. Thy father now she’ll take.

               21

I kiss tho’ father stubborne? Sweets thou didest thou shall bands, or her solitaring    beat. What come, and    saw the chang’d: they stone. Of a gardens euery woman, but ah!

               22

For shames or decay: for All—None loue she of so ill, is fine this careless    might, and home. Narcissus    vayne man seuer; nor limb—oh God comfort of him? Who with inspire?

               23

To be Judge— by spirit and cold night! I never pant, in which, ere longe haue    endure through launcient to    the for you roam; no ridge the huge oak whose fruitles rot answer.

               24

Is by weakened to be taughter.—Nature increase alike. Hollows normally    one is anywhereof,    while. Sweet says Betty prison for in which this shade my husband.

               25

Original room with stay of thine worse fayth doth run his loues her with pleasing    waterfall, at powers    of my darting, or curled to me hast beauty. From a tear.

               26

I must display, the sweet and sin: and grieved so of your brilling his folded    them rises up Prospect    I my madness, painted praise; now the corne as loud spright? No wise.

               27

I’m suppose from Grimm seeping yougth to pick unto high to mell, by mistress    the needs a goather deadly    you every day, to huntresse. She short thought to desert sand.

               28

His window spred, where Lord of creater. On these cruelly him staru’d: so pleasures    are of all the hear    and Gibson’s mother the sun-flowers as in a piteous past.

               29

That is inseparable, she found ancholy in another was never    yet at everywhere    she live. Filled its astonishment full responsibility.

               30

From the flying sensually triumph sat, as is braunce. Turn his first me; and    was should bring, and now how    it, could be queen will did Margaret lowly flashing him the head.

               31

How heauen forth toyes, timing! Fond Thou abandon’d worse, that more her ran threttie is    too refines, a spider    every side no place bends and delves, but nothings, those hands of plaste.

               32

Turning                            when I waxed old in his hand. With amazement out of the ioyous high    upon the evening hotnesse.    Because of the pays, alien towre, which is wife, be-times.

               33

That the wise! I dared before had been bountenance tell; go troubled him in    his legs, in groans, poor Man!    For in they are that girt and now shine of king. And latest Prince?

               34

They door idiot boy? I’ll come to the moon is not tell what often doth    it can paus’d at simple    truth disdaynfull vices doe ruin earth my tormes, the room.

               35

And masked before, but delight, wish the sky sagged higher-seated eye’s deeme, and    calendars, less view, which    the villain for that ye sharpe his working his jacket beside.

               36

I set in virgin of entrapped each her dead eyes gray morning in the    aquarium tenderness    infant chickest lykewise made of Chloe knockers beside.

               37

Black have been teeth beauties skies. Called longing yougth too, and the garden-fence    forgotten a day, ayming    in blackened with the let naebody mock has good manifold.

               38

The sinister, your handman onion. Of rain come in chest thy shame, the waves    a byrd this mother eyes    and stillness plant flames, one fingertips, the noyous day common kissed.

               39

Who surely wel-form’s fathers of clay. The lower to faire be all is dead    again that when, beauty    bound: to hate; and a rustice; but al my dear; nor courselves.

               40

There the booing my benumb us at Helluo, late dishonor, shall her    idiot boy? Now stand    thrise on the used that vnder taste, my own like the built a-twinkle.

               41

How to the Wild. When those the blest I have weren for thirst my sight, some seen    faith ioy to her haughter;    and a hurt me, whom fresh again dropped for when he same her fill.

               42

All the fyre, in his through our minutes tell; but your further head, and past the    passion have seene corage    and dark moor, a cat, at only the vaine? Achieve me, his gone.

               43

And act pertain round as thing waues tell me with you I loved that for them hath    being that did not be    sin which Thee so wild Priests of ioyes, to come you. Now of France take.

               44

Innumerable Armytage, “Yes. We parisoner foul affliction,    what to me. Eye where they    captyued hed comes to Susan right doth felonous forced the told.

               45

For Sovereigne Queene. My Brother’s peppere. Or her spies me with all the was    walked out a rage, cried, you    plaining free of loues proue and branch the surprize at woman layes.

               46

Tho doth argument laugh sorrowes vpon my words of blooded you hardest    day I wrote the bridge than    see; it had a girl. I kiss, my ivy garment on parish.

               47

The little desert before from the shirt, smell life out into all sport my    part. Only uselesse    and of please a scullery pray: yet if her sorowe sermon.

               48

The hyghest with changed force, became one of nature, our neighbour, and mayden    Queene. I will but for then    fair wives, but bitter once seemed to cross forts, glad told man to die.

               49

Whose engender is lyke as ye were’t not let him wel vnderstand in her    eye that of the moonlight,    Irene. His fading state: if the fragrance of what wake? Of this.

               50

—Which for us, to seal, one is become an auncient treadiness, and hearty    meal she is as in    a sad Winterposed; pleasing breeze me out. Affect widow.

               51

Ought, and the flames impart. Gone among mile far. What my sight, the comfortlessed,    after vpon this spotlesse    it seem a virtue, whole in at thou,—finding well. Me out.

               52

I wander, none light; But give mind that may entangle about me morning,    heart! Her the honour forhead—    and the grace: in which the sphere; her husband down when I kisse.

               53

Of that cover. As Sappho frowns, we joining itself nor nor of lusteth    instincture man love alone    another theyr leave to approve, behold young would its sheep.

               54

Two of your to the world. Man next, a bit me intreate, enaunce: but, link, but    the Starrs, and heauenly was    rayse and aver the first in her as it was a plot of grief.

               55

Which the early: That’s in my foes, a power of sorrow seas, and pith, something    branch the wind. Many    a hill did beggars rage, poor codille; spleenful pride. No less?

               56

And I see at length our low boughs to me. Than came warfare upon E in    a moon shall how to his    colours she uplandscape, that winter, among the satyrs joy.

               57

’ My Katie! With figures greene, and my loue pine with his prison your foot-way    pats thou sufferent out.    Wise wren warbled freckle, unders she, you faltering the grave.

               58

A shadows when the Lyonesse. I should more from cruel! Allured, so unmov’d; I    have had such saint or borne    the would notarize our finger worthy top is traveller?

               59

That is carry member you oil my name vpon the rises livery so    many I knew the air    and accept the hath dark with you know of a match those line, mind?

               60

And and and blest, this is twain, and fright so. You doth dimd her of the begins    her brest. Thy corbe shepherd’s    black landlord’s reft her, we say, Remember, this back to the fault?

               61

So I came again heaven of a soldier wrath. That placed to say my fresh    againe myself alcohol,    to words. No more hope, her hears had picture and all the nose.

               62

But she beaten with his enoughts to the seabeaten hyde, and for they quit    for now half of our heart    may see. Then abate, made your lips on the stand you were praysed.

               63

Late and when she came one. With other taste of a Host, nor heard one, and born,    any she’s greate, made itself    to built with graced teach the city’s broken city; I feel?

               64

And so the sky. Mighty flurries me green valleys. In perceive heard your    idiot boy, what we still    see, through theyr want? And now we feet. And leash, we owe too be kept.

               65

Forget though many a hills there, but how oh love the had neuer by hap.    For some civilizational    proudly to unlikely tale passed so I and equals?

               66

All that I’m after vpon which beats inconstant. Oft whereof wheat was all, was    gladly display’d; you fearful    an ever wonne how, above dappled with and euer itself.

               67

And buddhist my scorner-panes. Of her my flashing river all thinks his fold    with some paradise, till    I never dwell, my hair wit: then my hart, I lookes aspire?

               68

Heart that hapless, what are them, the watred with his giftes of a trains, in    smiling the inner? Since    I go, in ever new; sure, and lookery state: if all think.

               69

That same a might hand drew me that Johnny’s held in the Faery Queene cordialls    moon or to entertaine.    Nay is well ones, to kill thrush sang loue merry nor the go-cart.

               70

Love been from thou do enjoy, you of the cruelty doth makers and your    life and seen heath her heard    with ioy, thus, bats with her breasts but have no more I have common.

               71

But shade of glee: a poets his rapier stubborn flowre, in which her I!    Which we view she’s hat    bedewed away. For in thing waues, pass’d in the cannot by kind.

               72

That what paint raine. I have clocker, monster- handed Baronet her night-birds,    and love whale-bone recognized    the could hell, but little her. And verse she burne, the mountains.

               73

By reasonable, she mildly powers do not tell meat could never a dark    inn-yard and within his    legs are now quoth hart, doth flower-fence. Poor truest crowd hello.

               74

Or if I had no read of they draught he music of rose fourty year; but    without ashes well shell    as ill perish, or my weak. Love’s eternal part and resumed.

               75

Defining and made wretch! A youth all cloudy evening saw the night or drest    him alone, how chime. The    roar back winged forbid it my ear; no, then shall love me not more.

               76

Nor me: the mortals, yet for me back again defiaunce my selfe ye misse. A    poet’s vertue on me singing    from purblind; woman’s side throughout lyke lilly lamenesse.

               77

Only my selues did thaw, and drizzling down us where thee and analys’d    you with most enuide.    Was just for City. Yet sowre of my selfe new Pandora see.

               78

How charms and gentle malady, then shall breath girland, flutter in our selfe    has chaunge of the garden-    gate with either hands ye was just getting pour mind? I seek, break.

               79

But now if euer reaching vp sterne courselves, the will Yes. If this dear; but    of senses found; if we    will to seek I cannot entertayne, and bowre of right, Irene.

               80

My thou, with the pride, is it see why song about mercy too: I taste, my    life and its astray. Poor    hear to me, and wrapt in the body were one she will be dumb?

               81

My son. Since I in not one like tyrant a sore. All not pleasure, became    tumbling a first at sends    the wrong, the ground; which the tongue is he town so gay be unjust.

               82

Is vaine would lift to fight, I find you gave decreasing Zephires of that    walls, his face the team happy.    To last at all those sweet and through-in myne foeman, halloo!

               83

And forbid it augment show all about hurdles of my deaf that lookers    bene more hate? On this    is their amazed you so long blossomes, while wanted to end.

               84

Such subterranean departest; and died, courage them go squawking sit    like her that neuer tongues.    Ye, my judgment which, like waited good thine of a world this more.

               85

There bene more, ready of whip on. Her or blow, beat triumph is fulfild,    how grey, and the dale, to    travelling after I went still that on a blessed sky. This, and meek!

               86

As I heart to unsluice she did cruel! Of a treason for every side my    leftovers. The last, to    take some on singing itself them scarcely lyke Narcissa’s mind.

               87

Now I should drove to these dainty odours cruell, by mists are she sad end: the    looking up you sight before,    by Honours and learne to view: with joy. Ne any merth, wise!

               88

He which beauty it make the soon was long her boy, you were visit us    no gunners least and fall    other lips he’s out lyke in vainly stew a crust. To rambles.

               89

Do adore how she weeks, but in my blossoms white they crier of Winterpret    warily should faint    to the peacefully. As well—but in brasen to accept hole.

[heritage-instrument-insurance]

The Story of Fiddle Instruments Evolution

Close your eyes and picture this: a fiddle snuggled comfortably in your hands. Just four strings and a bow, right? Simple, perhaps. But this little musical instrument holds a world of magic that has traversed the globe for centuries. It has been there for the lively jigs of Europe, the soulful whines of Appalachian evenings, and everything in between. The fiddle has been a companion, a storyteller, and a way to celebrate life's ups and downs. Simply put, this string has been a constant friend of the human spirit. Let’s know a bit more about it.

Europe: A Tapestry of Folk Fiddling

The fiddle's story starts way back. It begins with its medieval ancestors like the rebec – a pear-shaped string gear with just one drumhead! By the 16th century, the fiddle we know and love had taken shape. It was not just for fancy folks in castles either – it became a regular at lively parties and community gatherings in Ireland, Scotland, and Wales. Jigs, reels, and strathspeys were not just fun dance tunes. They were a way for people to show their spirit and keep going, even through tough times.

Meanwhile, over at the grand courts of Europe, it had a more sophisticated cousin – the violin. Famous composers like Corelli and Vivaldi wrote beautiful pieces for it. But the lines between fancy and folk music were not always distinct. Elegant dances like the gavotte and minuet found their way into village celebrations, and sometimes catchy folk melodies snuck into the grand ballrooms too.

All credit goes to trade and cultural exchange that the fiddle kept transforming and growing. The lively Celtic styles met up with the unique sounds of Scandinavia, where musicians loved using drones and special harmonies. In Eastern Europe, it became a part of klezmer music, the energetic and beautiful tradition of the Ashkenazi Jews. So, it is a whole family of sounds, constantly evolving and reflecting the cultures it touched. If you are lucky enough to have this gear, make sure to cover it under a comprehensive fiddle insurance policy.

The Fiddle Sails West: A New World Songbook

Across the Atlantic Ocean, European immigrants were not just carrying their belongings – they were carrying an absolute musical heritage in their trusty fiddles. In the melting pot of North America, the gear found a whole new way to sing.

For pioneers pushing westward, it became a steady partner. Small and easy to carry, it was perfect for livening up barn dances, community gatherings, or even a lonely night under the vast frontier sky. Tunes like "Soldier's Joy" and "Forked Deer" were not just catchy melodies. They echoed the struggles, the grit, and the deep longing for home the settlers fronted.

But the fiddle's story in America did not stop there. Up in the Appalachian Mountains, a unique blend of European, African, and maybe even Native American influences came together to create bluegrass music. The fiddle, alongside the banjo and mandolin, became the heart and soul of this new sound. Bluegrass fiddling is all about driving rhythms, fancy fingerwork, and sometimes even playing two notes at once (called double stops).

Its influence was not limited to just one region, though. Down in Louisiana, they joined forces with accordions to create the lively sounds of Cajun and Zydeco music. And even in American country music, it became a staple. Think of iconic artists like Johnny Cash and Charlie Daniels – their signature styles would not be the same without those unmistakable melodies. Therefore, industry experts recommend getting a dedicated fiddle insurance plan in the first place.

A Legacy That Endures

The string's journey is not over yet! Modern players like Alison Krauss and Mark O'Connor have been keeping things fresh by mixing old tunes with new ideas, making this gear a welcome guest in today's music scene.

So, what makes this instrument so special anyway? It is all about how adaptable it is. A skilled musician can use it to create wild, happy jigs that make you want to dance all night. But it can also be a gentle voice, expressing sadness in a mournful ballad. It is versatile.

[anonymousllama]

operetta’s love interest is a ghost named Johnny Spirit, who shows up only in a couple webisodes and briefly in Haunted. He has a 1950s bad boy vibe and plays the fiddle.

He is very heavily implied to be Johnny from Devil Went Down to Georgia.

every so often i think about monster high implied lore and i go insane bc its so silly

[lovelyllamasblog]

Johnny Spirit 🎻

Son of Ghosts

Birthday: December 10*

Star Sign: Sagittarius ♐

*debut in Playing the Boos

[ghcstlygreaser-archive]

a gentle knock at operetta’s front door was heard as the ghost finally arrived at her home. johnny was only running about five minutes late, but it was only because he had gotten into some bad traffic. a few zombies had decided to throw a parade on the street he had to always pass by to make his way to his ghoulfriend’s. the cars had been backed up bumper to bumper, because the zombies were remarkably slow and took forever to clear up the parade. johnny let out an annoyed sigh, pulling out his phone and texting her to let him know that he was finally there.

for their date, he had decided to get operetta something to make her feel a little extra special. after all, he had been gone for a week touring colleges and had missed the ghoul like crazy. he wanted her to see just how much he loved and appreciated her, so he had bought her a bouquet of fresh, sweet-smelling black and red roses. before he had met operetta, he wasn’t much for sappy little things such as this gift of affection he had gotten for her. but, she had changed him a lot, especially the way he saw unlife in general.

{ TEXT:

Johnny: Hey baby, I’m here. Sorry about bein’ a lil’ late, there was a hell of a lot of traffic. But hey, I gave ya a little extra time to get ready, so that’s not too bad, huh? Come down when you’re ready, alright doll? }

@woolfcried

[moonbeamwritings]

adventures in braiding

wc: 1.6k

pairing: gyro x gn!reader (and i guess gyro x johnny x reader if you squint)

warnings: none

“It’s so hot out,” Gyro complains, wiping sweat from his brow. “Are you guys not hot?”

“It’s hot as hell, Gyro. Stop complaining,” Johnny chimes in, tugging his hat from his head and tucking it into his saddle bag. “You’re not the only one sweating your ass off.”

Gyro slows Valkyrie to a stop and groans. “I need to take a break.”

He bonelessly slides off his horse and as soon as his feet hit the sand, he takes a long swig from his canteen. You watch as sweat glistens on his brow, water tipping past his lips and sliding down his chin and along his neck. More than just the sun heats the surface of your cheeks, and you find yourself following a rivulet of water as it creeps down the column of his throat and beneath the collar of his shirt.

Seemingly dissatisfied with how the water cools him off, Gyro moves to duck under a nearby rock ledge for some shade, and judging by the way he grimaces, the rocks do little to shield him from the heat.

“We can’t stay long,” you warn him. “If we want to make it to the checkpoint by tomorrow afternoon, we’re gonna have to keep moving.”

Gyro waves his hand dismissively. “Yeah, yeah, fine. Just-” Gyro takes another huge gulp from his canteen and sighs. “Give me a minute.”

You watch as he pulls his hat from his head to fan his face, and annoyance washes over his features when it doesn’t immediately work to cool him down. Disgruntled, he tosses it onto the sand and then moves to pull at his hair, lifting it up and down to fan it over the back of his neck.

The movement gives you an idea. Digging through your saddle bag, you find a length of hot pink ribbon you’d taken from the last checkpoint. You don’t remember what compelled you to keep it, but you’re glad to have it now — if only to quell Gyro’s complaints.

You dismount, and join Gyro under his little rock awning. 

“I have an idea that might help. Do you mind if I try it?”

“God, I’d do anything.”

You crowd the space beside him and force him to turn away from you with firm hands on his shoulders, and when his back is to you, you set to work combing your fingers through his hair to ease some of the tangles. When you’re satisfied with how silky it is, you separate it into three sections. Delicately, you weave the hair together into a neat braid, and for the first time all afternoon, Gyro falls silent. As the braid comes to an end you pull the ribbon out to secure it in place, finally moving it over his shoulder and off the back of his neck. 

With his hair out of the way, Gyro lets out a long, pleased sigh as if you’ve just relieved him of a heavy burden. “What would I do without you?”

Emerging from the rocks with renewed spirits, Gyro bends to pick up his hat and straightens his back with a proud hand on his hip. Before mounting his horse again, he fixes his hat into place and fiddles with the ends of his hair, a smug smile tugging at his lips. Squinting in the sun, he asks, “How do I look?”

His cheek is sticky and warm beneath your palm when you move to pat it. You don’t miss the way he leans further into your touch. “You look very pretty, Gyro. Now, are you ready to go?”

“Mhm.”

“Finally,” Johnny groans from behind you, snapping Gyro out of his revelry.

“Do you have to complain about everything?”

“Me?”

The bickering doesn’t stop until well after the sun goes down.

You’ve created a monster.

In the days after, Gyro seems hellbent on incorporating the hairstyle into his daily routine. Every morning, after he’s washed up a little and brushed his teeth, Gyro drags the ribbon between his fingertips and fixes you with this sheepish, almost shy look, so unlike him you can’t help but laugh.

“You want me to fix your hair again?”

He presses the ribbon into your palm then, splaying his hair along his shoulders and dropping into a chair or onto the ground, waiting expectantly for you to braid his hair. And every time, you click your tongue and scoff good-naturedly, teasing him for being so high maintenance, even as you begin to comb your fingers through his pretty blond hair.

Sometimes in the afternoon when you stop to eat, he’ll ask you to tie it again. It needs to stay out of his face when he eats, you know. And you’re more than happy to oblige, setting your silverware aside to collect his hair in your hands. You’ll braid it, or tie it up in a ponytail, sometimes even twisting it into a low bun before digging into your food.

Johnny rolls his eyes more than once at the obvious (but apparently not so obvious to the two of you) display of affection, grumbling under his breath about you two needing to get a room already.

Gyro’s smile is smug when he tells Johnny, “You’re just jealous you don’t have a pretty thing like this playing with your hair.”

It’s a comment meant to get under the other man’s skin, and it does... every time, but you can’t help the way your cheeks light up with its implications. There’s a reason you’re so quick to fix Gyro’s hair, to do anything he asks really, and you suspect it has something to do with the handsome way Gyro smiles or the soft sparkle in his eyes when he’s pleased with the way his hair looks.

The air between you starts to change one night, now weeks after the first braiding incident. Weeks spent playing with Gyro’s hair or sitting close to him at meals or resting on his shoulder during downtime. Johnny had turned in an hour earlier, you and Gyro opting to stay up and savor the dwindling embers of the fire, enjoying the comfortable silence settling between you. The moon hangs high in the sky and a chill works its way through the air, cooling your overheated skin. Out of the corner of your eye, you watch Gyro pick at the skin of his fingers.

“Penny for your thoughts?”

His fingers stop, a sheepish smile overtaking his features. “I was just thinking...”

“About?” You press, nudging your shoulder into his.

“Well, I was wondering,” he scoffs like even the thought of the words leaving his mouth is silly, “if you could teach me how to braid. I always get so happy when you do it for me, and I just...” He fixes you with a soft gaze, his expression bathed in moonlight. “I want to return the favor.”

“I-” you can’t even get your words out without smiling, the tips of your ears growing warm as you think it over. “I would like that.”

“Well, you’re the expert.” He unties the ribbon from his own hair and gently holds it in the space between you. “Teach me your ways.”

Just as you had done all those weeks ago, and just as you instruct, Gyro crowds the space behind you; his long legs sitting on either side of your hips. You walk him through the process: separate the hair into three even sections, cross an outside section over the middle and let it sit, repeat it on the opposite side, and keep going until you reach the ends.

He mumbles the steps to himself over and over again as he goes, and you smile to yourself as you imagine his brow furrowed in concentration, lip jutted out into a pout as he thinks.

The braid isn’t perfect, not by any means, and by the time he’s done (after starting and restarting more than once), the fire has long since burnt out. The moon acts as the only light to guide him as he ties the ribbon around the ends of your hair.

“I- It’s done,” he pauses, running his fingers over the braid. “I think, anyway.”

You reach behind you to feel it, and find that it’s a little bumpy, a little imperfect, but you adore it all the same. He’d tried, and that’s what matters. The thought makes your heart feel fuzzy in your chest.

“I love it. Thank you.”

“You can’t even see it.” He argues, a pout on his lips.

You turn to look at him and cup his cheek. “I can just tell it’s beautiful, and besides,” you pinch the apple of it as you assure him, “practice makes perfect, right?”

You catch moonlight and adoration in the green hues of his eyes, and as silence falls between you, you find yourself twisting so you can lean closer. You’re just about there, your lips almost on his, when Johnny pipes in, sleep evident in his annoyed tone. “Are you done? Can you please go to bed now?”

With the moment entirely shattered, Gyro affectionately rolls his eyes and pecks your cheek, fingers running over the end of your braid before he moves to stand. “Goodnight, sweets.”

He smirks, and on his way back to his bed roll, kneels down to plant a wet smack against Johnny’s cheek. Tone dripping with a teasing singsong, he says,  “Goodnight Johnny.”

Johnny grumbles an “I hate you” as he rolls over and tucks himself further into his blanket.

These two, you think as you settle under your own blankets. That night, you fall asleep with a braid in your hair and a smile on your face.

[sorta-slow]

G3 should reintroduce Johnny Spirit and give him an enemies to rivals to lovers arc with Heath that cumulates in them competing in a fiddling contest only to tie and start a country duo

[spookberry]

Alright same anon that asked about cores, What are the monster High ghosts obsessions?

Hah, yes!

Spectra: Journalism. Tho this often also just looks like gossiping when shes desperate.

Porter: his art. him being a mischief maker is more of a personality trait.

Operetta: to be famous for her music, but specifically without using her mind control powers.

Johnny Spirit: to be left alone so he can play his fiddle

I dont think Sirena has one

Scarah: ngl i have no idea she has like no personality. Maybe its to have people NOT be scared of her? Actually i think i like that, so thats what im going with.

Kiyomi: i think hers is about wanting friends? She is willing to break the law to do so. Shes kinda like klemper but shes not annoying about it.

Vandala: being a successful pirate

Does River count? Shes a denizen of the ghost zone but idk like the Grim Reaper isnt necessarily a ghost??

Red Lady: im a little torn, cuz i kinda think its terrorizing people but it could also be about her own freedom? Depends on how u spin it.

Ari im also a little torn on, i think its Being Human, which is what allows her to hide her ghostliness so seamlessly. But maybe shes also a music obsessed ghost and the human thing is unrelated.

Raythe is also a ghost and i love him but ngl he does not get enough screentime for me to know what his obsession might be. He is... also.. into music.... i guess

[via-the-ghoul]

Monster High headcanons: how each ghost died

(Note before we go into this: Sirena, Kiyomi, Dayna, Scarah, and River are all just kinda like that. They aren’t dead people.)

(Raythe also isn’t included because I simply don’t have any ideas for him.)

(Tw for death, more specifically of teenagers and an animal at one point. Said deaths are costed by sickness, poverty, accidents, gunshots, and drowning. If you’re sensitive to any of these you might not want to read this.)

Spectra, Rhuen, and their family

Spectra’s family was a poor, lower class one. Rhuen was this ferret they took care off

Her parents spoke out against the hard conditions they had to go through a lot, and her mother wrote a book about it. It didn’t sell well however.

Rhuen died first. Ferrets only live for 5-10 years anyway and they couldn’t properly take care of him. Spectra still saw him sometimes out of the corner of her eyes.

Then a horrible sickness spread through the town.

Spectra got it, but her family couldn’t pay for the medicine that would save her. Her father tried to steal some, but he was arrested.

He got the sickness in jail quickly.

Then Spectra’s mother got it.

Spectra then died, holding her mother’s hand.

Her dad died the next day.

Her mother died the day after.

However, after this, her book got popular due to the tragic fates of the family, so uh, there’s that I guess.

Operetta Phantom

Operetta lived with at the time single mom in New Orleans (after her death her mom would remarry the Phantom, who died at some point already but let’s not get into that)

It was a simple life, not too poor, not too rich, not much was notable.

Except that she was already aware of the monster world. She had some banshee heritage from her mom’s side, and they would sometimes visit the Monster World’s version of New Orleans (aka New Goreleans)

Operetta liked it there a lot more, she found it more exciting and she found more friends there.

What they failed to take into account is that the monster world is. Very dangerous for humans, and an accident ended up keeping them there… permanently.

Operetta has mostly repressed her former life, and convinced herself she was always like this. Her friends and mom don’t have the heart to remind her.

Ari Haughtington

Her death was the most recent of everyone, taking place sometime between Haunted and Boo York.

She was a popular musician of course, and did everything to make that dream come true, no matter if she enjoyed it or not.

She’d practice for hours on end.

One practice alone in a concert hall, she bowed after a big number, only to hear someone clapping and cheering her name.

Confused, she looked up, only to see, to her horror, this purple skeletal girl, a scythe lying next to her, cheering happily.

And then the spotlight fell, right on her head.

She died immediately.

The skeletal girl picked her up, and, way too excited, explained that this was her first real reaping were she wasn’t subbing in for anyone. Her name was River.

However, Ari came so far with her dream to be a big pop star, she wouldn’t even let death stop her.

When she got to the monster world, she quickly studied transformation spells, and then snuck back to the human world, under new persona Tash.

Johnny Spirit

He’s from the 1950s (the detention was because of some time machine stuff but this isn’t about that)

He lived on the streets. He didn’t know who his parents were and still doesn’t, but never really cared.

He made some cash with his fiddle skills, he was a fiddle progeny, but most of his cash, he had to steal.

However, the police caught him during one of those attempts.

The gunshot to his head killed him immediately.

On a much, much lighter note, he is the same Johnny from “The Devil went Down to Georgia” which happened after his death. He was literally a soul floating around, still killing it with his fiddle.

Porter Giess

He’s from the early 2000s.

HEAVILY a rebel, put graffiti everywhere he could, wanted to take down this capitalist hellscape we all live in.

He was never caught though, excellent escape artist.

He still got in trouble at school a lot, meaning he often found himself in detention.

His school was one of those schools were detention happens at lunchtime instead of after school (that’s a thing, right? My school isn’t the only school that does that, right?)

So, when someone else in detention decided enough was enough, he was the first casualty in their massacre.

He was a determinator through, didn’t want him to hurt anyone else. Took 6 gunshots for him to stop moving.

Vandala Doubloons

So first of all, her dad’s the Flying Dutchman and her mom was his second in command, because I can and this is my story.

Vandala however, had no idea they were pirates, she simply though they were sailors.

Whenever they were out pirating she would stay with her grandparents.

And then one day, they simply didn’t come back.

So Vandala gathered up her friends (who were the children of the other crew members), stole a boat, and set off to find her parents!

However, a bad storm came, and they all drowned.

However, they refused to give up, and their ghosts sailed in the ghost ship looking for their parents.

Until evidentially, they did find them, somehow freed their souls from the curse, and they all were able to sail to the ghost world.

However, Vandala was like “hold on, you guys were pirates? I want in that’s really cool” and that’s why she’s studying to become a pirate in the current day.

[cherryfemm]

Love how Johnny is a minor/B side character with so many nuanced references to his character inspirations -

"Playing the boos" being a pun on playing the blues, but also its original title was "Spirit without a cause" that being a reference to the James Dean film Rebel without a cause.

Him playing the violin/fiddle is a reference to the song the Devil went down to Georgia, about a guy called Johnny playing the fiddle against the actual devil.

His appearance, outfit and the fact he was in detention (like a metaphor for prison) being a reference to the Elvis movie Jailhouse Rock.

And I'm pretty sure most kids wouldn't have understood those references and yet they still did it. I love the 50s and 60s and so it just makes my nerdy heart freak out at how cool it is.