#if it happens to cap & you still want something though feel free to hmu!

[leavetwn]

* AMANDA CAMPANA, NOBINARY + SHE/HER/THEY/THEM  | you know RAMONA GALLO, right? they’re TWENTY-THREE, and they’ve lived in irving for, like, TWENTY-THREE YEARS? well, their spotify wrapped says they listened to CRYING ON THE BATHROOM FLOOR BY MUNA like, a million times this year, which makes sense ‘cause they’ve got that whole COLD PIZZA AS A HANGOVER CURE, TALKING SHIT ABOUT CUSTOMERS IN THE BREAKROOM, LONGING FOR WHAT COULD'VE BEEN,  thing going on. i just checked and their birthday is AUGUST 17TH, so they’re a LEO, which is unsurprising, all things considered. ( claire, 22, est, she/her )

HEY , BESTIES ! happy new year (the way it’s 11:55pm here so barely) !! my name’s claire and i’m 22. i’m livin in the est timezone, and my pronouns are she/her. i’m bringing y’all a mess of a muse 😈 because well  ,,, it’s what i’m best at. if you’re feelin ramona & wanna plot, just go ahead and like this & i’ll hit you up. i usually plot on discord, but if you prefer the tumblr ims, that’s no problem at all. anyway, lemme stop waistin time and get to introducing you to ramona. * tw: mentions of cheating & alcohol. 

𝐈. ━━ ˟ ⊰ ✰ 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐬 .

full name: ramona gallo.  nickname(s): anything your muse wants to call her tbh. age: twenty-three. date of birth: august 17th. zodiac sign: leo. gender/pronouns: non-binary, she/her/they/them. sexual orientation: bisexual. romantic orientation: biromantic. hometown: irving, north carolina. current residence: irving, north carolina. occupation: employee at zoinkies currently,  a lifeguard during the summer. eye color: brown. hair color/style: had long hair up until her breakup then had one of those breakdowns and cut her own hair into a bob and then her own bangs. i bet it was a mess lol so she probably called her friends or went to a salon the very next day to get it fixed. also highlighted the ends red but her natural color is brown. height : 5′5″. clothing style: simple and comfortable. t-shirts, croptops, turtlenecks, all usually paired with either jean shorts or jeans in general. she prefers to feel cozy rather than cute. tattoos: yes. a small one on her wrist. wants more eventually. piercings: both ears peirced & a navel piercing that she did herself against better judgement lol.

𝐈. ━━ ˟ ⊰ ✰ 𝐪𝐮𝐢𝐜𝐤 𝐡𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐲 .

you were born on a scorching hot day in irving , your father says so, anyway. you’re convinced he’s being dramatic. your birth went smoothly; after two previous children, your parents had become disillusioned by childbirth. just another one to add to the bunch, and one that was meant to save a dying marriage. still, they loved you nonetheless. your father, to this day. your mother, until you were ten, and then she up and left without a warning. 

your father keeps food on the table by fixing cars. you spend your days in the hot sun watching him replace parts and continuously try to crank vehicles until they run. he fist pumps every time one does. ‘ how lame, ’ you think, but it’s inspiring how hard he works to take care of three kids. and he does a good job. 

therefore , you spend much of your early life trying to make him proud. you’re smart as a whip, and all your teachers have good things to say about you when it comes to academics. you’re a bit of a troublemaker, though. your father doesn’t mind that too much; he was the same at your age. and he’s proud  —  proud to see you work so hard. 

you spend your teenage years doing much of the same. though , you begin to come home a bit later than usual, and your excuse is that you’ve been at ashley’s or samantha’s, but really all three of you were out partying. you don’t think your father would care (your grades are fine & he wants you to live like a normal teenager) ,  but you still lie about it. why ? well, who knows, maybe you like the adrenaline rush it gives you. like most things, you do them for the thrill. 

you join the swim team. you’re kind of bad , but that’s okay. just like always , you work hard, and you realize that you’re kind of a natural. your father cheers louder than anyone else in the stands. it pushes you to do better. with your good grades and athletics , your guidance counselor tells you you’re a shoo in for a scholarship from whatever university you want. you apply to several. if it’s one thing you hate, its this town. you can’t wait to make it out, and you figure, this might be your only way. 

you’re eighteen, and you’re in love. it’s crazy how love can make you see things differently. suddenly , this town doesn’t seem half bad. all your friends find it cute , and you tell them everything. the things he tells you or the way he makes you feel. it’s a crazy feeling; you never want it to end. 

you throw your cap in the air. finally , high school is over. college is looming. you’ve been accepted to several & received scholarships from at least a few. you lie in bed thinking about it. now, you suddenly don’t want to leave so bad. don’t want to leave him behind. how could someone leave another they love so easily? it makes you hate your mother more.

for the first time, you disappoint your father. you don’t go to college. you don’t give a damn. you want to stay where love is. you’re addicted to the feeling. this lasts for three years. now, you’re twenty-one; you’ve gotten a job at zoinkies, and that keeps you away for most of the day. you randomly decide to visit your boyfriend during a lunch break one day. you find him in bed with someone else. suddenly , you realize love isn’t as addicting as you once thought. what once made the world beautiful now made it hideous. what once made you feel so high had somehow made you feel so low. it was horrible, and you’d realized your mistakes. 

you threw away your future for love. something as rotten and twisted as love. something you swore you’d never let yourself feel again. something that you put away in a locked box with no key. irving was the same place you’d always known it to be. boring, drab, familiar. at least you had your family. that was barely enough to keep you sane, though, and it was hard to feel normal.

you turned to the thing that help. alcohol, partying, any escape at all. you lacked coping skills   —  that much was clear, but you didn’t care. you blamed it on something else entirely. just as your teachers had said, you’re a bit of a troublemaker. you do anything to make yourself feel alive, to make yourself feel free of the hurt. 

it’s two years later now. you’re still not over it in some ways, as regret turns to anger and resentment. you’re bitter. who wouldn’t be? but you feel like you’ve had time to mourn. maybe it’s because you never acknowledged it in the way you should’ve ( it’s still locked away in that box. ) you still have your bad habits. you still work at your stupid job that you hate. you’re lost, but you’ll figure it out. you always do. so, you continue to float , seemingly stuck in the town that you never let go of, and you wonder what comes next. only time will tell.

𝐈. ━━ ˟ ⊰ ✰ 𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐜𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐞𝐨𝐮𝐬 .

still swims but doesn’t have as much time for it. probably not as good, but since she spends the summer lifeguarding, she uses that time to practice & try to get back to where she was. also kinda jaded asf so even if she says she wants to get back into it, she probably won’t lmaoo.

is a horrible driver. how did she get a license ?? not even she knows. def the type to like have a leg up on the dash board, hand out the window, and only one hand on the wheel while speedin idk how she makes it out alive

can take a car apart and put it back together again thanks to her dad. also changes her own tires so let her change your tires. im just sayin 

stays up way too late & would sleep until 2 pm everyday if she didn’t have to work. should probably work on being an adult and going to bed at a normal time but just half the time doesn’t give a fuck so she’s probably sleep deprived a lot. therefore also has a 

character parallels: alice ayres/jane jones (closer, 2004) , clementine (eternal sunshine of the spotless mind, 2004) , fiona gallagher (shameless, 2011-present) , more to be added.

𝐈. ━━ ˟ ⊰ ✰ 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐧𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 .

ok but plots really do be making my world go ‘round. 😳 i love em, so literally hmu with anything you’re feeling, and i’ll be down. just wanna plot & write with everyone 💕 but here’s a couple of wanted connections for y’all. i’ll prolly have a most wanted tag sooner or later & i’ma be make a plot page soon.  

* the unholy trinity  — these two are the friends she cherishes most. i’m assuming they’ve been friends since at least early high school , maybe earlier. they went through a lot together. these two were with her through all her relationship troubles. true ride or dies. she’s do absolutely anything for them, and she trusts that they feel the same way. they’re rowdy & wild, do whatever they want, and have a damn good time doin it. also have a gc where they just talk shit and send tiktoks idk just gimme this plsss 🥺

* friends with benefits / one night stands  —  this would probably be the extent of ramona. clearly not over what happened to her the last time 😭, so she’d have plenty of these tbh. she probably wouldn’t think too much about it, but it could be awkward for you muse maybe, etc. 

* unrequited love / crush  —  here’s a toast to the ones who crush on ramona. it would be an absolute tragedy lmaoo. she’s not really mean about it, but she is 100% certain she’s not looking for any type of relationship. could be really dramatic and messy and those are tha best kind. literally this

* former friends / enemies  —  she’s lived here her whole life, so she’s at least got one. these two just don’t get along/no longer get along for whatever reason that can be plotted out. 

* coworkers   — she works zoinkies throughout the year and picks up shifts as a lifeguard during the summer so your muses could know her from that. could delve into a close friend territory too lmao. they probably just sit in break rooms and talk about rude customers or bossy managers lmaooo.

* literally anything your heart desires — a lot could work. we could even just start from nowhere & have them meet for the first time if they’re newer/just to town. 

[pastelninjaimagines]

hi hi!!! how do you feel about road trip with sasuke headcanons or imagine? feel free to add anyone you'd like ofc!! i just absolutely love your take on sasuke, one of the few that actually feel right to me haha. have a nice day!!!!! ♡

Road trip HCs

Since you were cool with me picking some other characters to do such a cute ask for, I picked some faves that i thought would be 10/10 for a road trip…also i’m glad you like my sasuke hot takes lmao…also also these were so fun and enjoyable to write that if y'all want actual imagines with these (or other characters) pls hmu - mod tina

Sasuke

It’s either his way or the highway..so be prepared. Has a map with pre picked locations circled on there for you guys to hit, but he’ll leave the route that you take a little looser. He wants structure, but’ll go with the flow to an extent. Not every single second has to be planned, but he wants direction for the trip. 

The car is pretty lightly packed, he doesn’t wanna fuss with carrying too much unnecessary junk. If either of you need anything along the way, he’d rather just buy things as needed. For him, carrying too many things is constricting, and he’d rather feel uninhibited by baggage. He’s also weird about the music. He prefers the radio, but hates commercials so he’ll channel surf until he finds something he likes. Why he doesn’t just make a cd (or aux his phone) you don’t know but he refuses to do so. He’ll say “trying to get the local flavor” and yet settle on the station that’s playing whatever’s popular at the time bc he can’t find anything else with a clear signal

Would definitely rather stick to seeing cities and landmarks for your stops along the way. He really doesn’t wanna get sidetracked with seeing smaller tourist trap attractions or going somewhere that’s way off the beaten path. Reason being is he’s made a sort of imaginary time table for you trip and even though he’s not stated that aloud, he wants to stick to his schedule 

Deidara

He’d be a literal blast to go on a road trip with (pun slightly intended). Deidara is full of energy and excitement and is super enthusiastic about having a good time. He’s a little bit all over the place, one minute wanting to drive all day, but then pulling off to see something either on the roadside, or off on an exit bc he saw a sign that piqued his interest. 

Definitely wants to hit more of the trendy/artsy spots on the road trip, picking a lot of big cities to get inspiration for his art, and just a genuine interest in seeing the sights. Though, he doesn’t wanna rush to get anywhere, he wants to take his time and go with the flow. Spontaneity is his middle name. so whatever you wanna do on the trip is cool with him too. 

80’s rock will be blasting the entire time. So I hope you like his collection of cds bc he’s not listening to the radio. He might let you play a few of your cds if he’s feeling generous. The car’s a mess with things. He wasn’t too organized with packing so he has to buy a lot of things on the way, and what he brought he slowly realizes he didn’t even need. Why he brought snow boots and ski pants for a summer road trip he doesn’t know. Can’t recall what he’d been thinking when he made that call. Also his art supplies literally take up the entire trunk so you better compartmentalize your belongings. Occasionally he’ll get in moods where he’s gotta clear out all the junk (aka all the food wrappers and take out bags) but that impulse is as sporadic as all his other ones. Deidara’s a lot of fun on a road trip but he’s pretty messy and very sporadic so if you’re cool with those things then he’s the partner for you. (Plus he goes on art rants - you’ve been warned) 

Dabi

Dabi just wants to get lost. You pick a direction, he drives. Literally doesn’t care where you guys go. You wanna hit all 50 states? Go coast to coast? Never come back? Aight he’s got you fam. Though he insists that you pick where you guys go, he’s got amazing intuition. If you don’t prompt him, he’ll find the most amazing spots. Absolutely down to go off-road and end up in some beautiful and breathtaking part of nature. And he’s down to get out of the car and go exploring. 

Likes to pull off to the side of the road at night, get on the roof of the car with you (if the night’s warm and clear) and just gaze up at the stars. Being in the middle of nowhere means you’ve got an amazing view of them. 

Dabi, like Sasuke, barely packs anything for the trip. He’s already very spartan with his belongings, so this isn’t a surprise to you that he says if he needs anything he’ll pick it up along the way. You guys happen to go thrifting and antiquing a lot on your various spots so this is where he gets most of his extra clothes and things. Sometimes, he’ll even get kitschy nicknacks from small town souvenir stores that give you both a good laugh. 

On the road, he’s quiet most of the time, he’ll leave the talking up to you while he’s driving. He’ll occasionally sing to the music he plays which is a combination of rap and classic rock. He’s not a radio hog and let’s you play your favorites as long as you both know to take turns. On a few occasions you’ve caught him singing along to your more pop-y selections. Dabi’s much more talkative when you guys pull off (either at one of your talked about destination spots or some random spontaneous stops) and loves cracking his famed dry sarcastic comments at everything. At night you guys’ll sometimes talk about deeper things, but the only time he’ll really open up is if you guys stop and drink (or grab a bottle and bring it back to the car/the room if you’re staying at a motel). Other than that, he’s pretty quiet, only speaking when he deems necessary 

Mista

Mista is the perfect combination of fun and chill for a road trip. Anywhere you wanna go, he’ll take you, as long as you’re good with the stops he picks out too. You’re the navigator though, you gotta tell him where to go otherwise he might end up getting you guys lost, but if he does, you’ll have an amazing time in a place you’d never thought you’d be because he knows how to make anything a good time. He’ll be talking your ear off with his random facts, commentary and constant cracking of jokes that happen to pop in his head. If he’s not blabbering his mouth, you’re both singing to the music that’s on blast and shaking the car. Mista made the world’s longest mixtape that combined both his faves and your faves so everyone’s happy and singing along (peeping Mista sing his head off to Go Your Own Way by Fleetwood Mac while speeding down the empty highway - it’s a real image) 

Loves the idea of taking polaroid pictures at each place you stop at. The glove compartment is littered with the polaroids you take. If it’s not one of “official stop pictures” it’s a bunch of candids, the ridiculous faces you guys make or of pretty scenery. Mista’s actually got quite a photographer’s finesse in him so the pictures he takes are actually really good and you’d almost consider them artsy. Like Dabi, this boy be buying all the small town souvenirs and be decked out in t-shirts, wrist bands, caps from all the little towns that no one’s ever heard of. He be reping that merch like the tackily fashionable mf he is and still makes it all look good

He’s a creature of comfort so he prefers pulling up to a motel to rest at night instead of sleeping in the cramped car, but sometimes, if you guys are just dead tired he’ll throw everything in the trunk so you can both make a nice comfortable nest with the back seats down and curl up. 

[studiash]

How I programme myself to fight my executive dysfuntion and try and do things or:

If you’re like me and have horrible executive functioning skills thanks to stuff like ADHD and mental illness, you’ve probably heard of micromanagement and you’ve also possibly been told to try and just write basic instructional steps to do things like go shower, make breakfast, do your homework. And you’ve possibly tried it all but it just didn’t work for you.

Well, this is basically going to be me explaining the method I’ve found / semi created for myself with my counsellor and learning diversity team that’s been the first thing to actually get me to do things, whether or not it’ll do the same for you I can’t promise, but give it a shot if you want.

If you’ve not had a lot of experience with programming before, that doesn’t mean you can’t programme yourself. You don’t need to learn a new programming language, because the computer you’re programming is you, and you already speak your language.

There are key features however of general programming syntax and methods that is what, for me, makes programming planning useful, and they are as follows:

Speaking to yourself like you would to a computer (or: assume nothing and leave no gaps)

So whilst you’re not speaking a different language, and the computer is yourself, a key part of programming computers is that they don’t know anything, and they can’t assume anything.

If you want a computer to do something, you can’t just tell it to do it, you have to tell it every little step involved in doing it, and this is where the micromanaging super detailed instructions come in.

I find that just thinking that I’m programming a computer that has 0 clue of anything outside of the instructions (the programming plan) it forces me into actually breaking down everything, further than I do when I’ve just told myself to break down the steps and write them down normally. Part of it is probably that when you’re planning things normally it can feel somewhat embarrassing to write things like “stand up” “walk downstairs” “walk into kitchen” “open fridge” “take water jug out from fridge” etc etc just to get some water, but a computer programme doesn’t care, a computer programme needs that detail to prevent mistakes.

And especially for executive functioning this is one of the most important things in actually..... doing things, because our brains can be just like the programmed computer, assuming things and filling in gaps between steps may be something that my brain is technically supposed to do but unfortunately it doesn’t and it leads to overwhelm, by treating it like a computer programme I’m removing the need to make assumptions.

Smaller Events / Functions:

These are basically defining different “smaller” tasks, you can write them out by themselves and then later, if you’re writing a bigger programming plan, just drop their name in to let yourself know that it’s that task.

It stops the bigger programming plans from getting too long and overwhelming and allows you to take a modular approach and reuse the same mini functions for tasks that are involved in multiple things.

Personally the main things I’ve broken into their own independent events are key things like: Starting to do something and taking a break, and then I link them into the main big event... which speaking of the main big event:

The main big event:

Once you’ve got all your smaller tasks, there’s obviously going to be the actual difficult bigger things, like doing your maths homework. This is where you get to reference all your smaller events, but also have your stuff that’s specific to what you’re trying to do, stuff that doesn’t really need to have a smaller event because it’s only specific to this one thing and nothing else...

“if”, “and", "but", and "or"

Conjunction junction, what’s your function?

Ifs, and I guess and but and ors (though I just wanted to reference conjunction junction) are a pretty big part of prgramming in general, but they’re extra helpful when you’re programming yourself because: We’re not computers, we’re humans, but even computers sometimes encounter errors, and you need to programme in what to do in case of an error.

Now you can’t predict every little thing that’s going to happen, but if you struggle with knowing what to do if you have a few general If phrases like “If you get stuck” or “If you feel tired” and then within those have one or two options (maybe with some more ifs, you can nest as many ifs within eachother as you want, whatever works best for you) for how to proceed.

This part is of course optional, and also possibly not recommended... it depends how you work, what’s easiest for you, and if just writing you programming plan in plain text works for you or not.

I used scratchblocks  to make my aesthetic scratchy programming plan thing, and it helps to visualise it, especially if you’re not already used to programming actual computers... As an example here’s my getting started on work function:

And here’s what the actual code looks like (click for the link to the live version):

It takes a bit of getting used to to get around the syntax of it, but scratchblocks automatically updates the preview of the code whilst you’re typing, which is helpful, and the bits that are like :: word #000 are how I’m definining whether it’s the start (hat) or the end (cap, which I didnt use in this one) and what colour I want it to be (which is of course, optional), a more in depth, but still easy to understand, guide of the syntax is available here: https://en.scratch-wiki.info/wiki/Block_Plugin/Syntax but the best way to learn would be to just play around with it yourself, once you get the hang of it it’s somewhat intuitive.

For a larger example of my programming plan scratch stuff, you can view the post I made yesterday that inspired this post with a large plan I made  and you can also view the actual code within scratchblocks here

If you have any questions or want advice or whatever idk feel free to hmu I don’t bite I swear, hopefully this is comprehensive enough, I kinda only really came up with programming planning a few days ago and only applied it to scratch for the first time last night but it honestly has basically gotten me to actually do things for the first time in my life which is a goddamn miracle

[grace13star]

Better Get Superstitious (Chapter 1)

Logan Dennison is a firm believer in science, and the facts are that no one can come back from the dead. Witches and magic could never exist, he's known this since he was a kid. But after a sudden move to Salem, Massachusetts, suddenly everything he's ever believed is challenged by a talking cat, a cute believer, and a trio of undead witches from the 17th century. What's a skeptic to do?

Character(s):Logan Sanders, Virgil Sanders, Patton Sanders, Roman Sanders, Remy, Mitchell (Cartoon Therapy), Toby (October, Sanders Shorts)

Relationship(s): Analogical (Virgil/Logan)

AO3  Prologue  Here  Chapter 2  Chapter 3  Chapter 4

“And no one ever found out what happened to Roman Binks,” Mrs Kelley said, flicking on the lights. She’d turned them off for atmosphere or something. “It is said that to this day, a black cat guards the black flame candle, the same candle that, if lit, would bring back the Sanders brothers from the dead.”

Logan scoffed before he could stop himself.

“Oh, do you have something to say, Mr Dennison?” Mrs Kelley asked.

The class turned to look at him, giggling at his being called out.

“I am well aware of the belief you all have here in Salem. Black cats, witches, whatnot. It’s just that there is no scientific proof for any of this.” The class broke into whispers.

“That’s ‘cuz science isn’t looking,” a new voice said, stopping the whispers.

Logan looked over to see a kid who was, for some reason, wearing sunglasses inside and sipping a Starbucks frappuccino that was still cold despite it being last hour.

“Halloween was based on an old pagan ritual called All Hallows Eve,” sunglasses kid said. “It’s a time when our world and the spirit world are closest. It used to be a huge deal. Then candy companies took over and turned it into a childish holiday.” He took a long slurping sip of his frappuccino then shrugged. “It’s a conspiracy.”

The class laughed but they applauded as well, wolf whistling and being generally unruly. The boy sitting behind sunglasses kid rolled his eyes, but there was a smile on his face. Mrs Kelley joined in the applause, nodding at the kid.

“Well said, Remy,” She said. “Alright then, I know you’re all excited for Halloween, but we still need to get through English.”

The class groaned good-naturedly and started pulling out their stuff.

The girl behind Logan- Mary? Marie?- tapped his shoulder. When he turned, she handed him a folded up piece of paper.

There was a little doodle of a brain on the front, with a small ‘V’ under it.

Logan unfolded the note and was greeted with a phone number written in glittery purple gel pen.

hey babe! hmu any time u want. xoxo remy

He physically cringed at the abbreviations and lowercase.

He turned to Remy who waved at him cheekily, then blew him a kiss. The boy behind him swatted his shoulder, then mouthed ‘sorry’ at Logan.

Wow, he was really cute.

No, stop it, Logan. No random crushes. How are you supposed to get into Harvard if you’re caught up in a relationship?

English passed pretty easily, even though it wasn’t his best subject, and before he knew it, he was unlocking his bike to head home.

A loud laugh caught his attention. He looked over and there was Remy and the cute boy. Cute boy was laughing into his hand, a stark contrast to Remy who was all but bellowing with glee.

“Hey, Remy, right?” He called, jogging over.

“Ah, it’s the skeptic!” Remy exclaimed, peering over his sunglasses. “What’s up, babe.”

“I just wanted to make sure there weren’t any hard feelings over our little debate in class.”

“Nah, girl, you’re all good. Besides, they weren’t even my arguments.”

Logan frowned. “No? Then who-”

“That was all V here,” Remy said, lightly punching cute boy’s arm. “He didn’t feel like talking in class, so he wrote it down and I said it.”

Logan turned to cute boy- V- and tried to maintain eye contact without blushing. “Well, I enjoyed your arguments very much. This school doesn’t have a debate team, so I feared I would get out of practice.”

“Don’t mention it,” V said, shuffling his feet. His cheeks were bright pink, probably from the brisk wind whipping across the courtyard.

“Okay, hate to break up whatever sexual tension that’s happening here,” Remy cut in, “but I gotta know. You don’t believe in any supernatural thing?”

“No.”

“The Sanders Brothers?”

“I believe they were people that lived here once, but I don’t believe they were witches.”

“Not even on Halloween?” Remy asked incredulously.

“Especially not on Halloween,” Logan said stubbornly.

“Okay, Remy, let’s not scare the new guy off too soon,” V said.

“It’s fine, I should get going anyways,” Logan said. He handed V a scrap of paper. “Trick or treat.”

He hopped on his bike, waved, and then left before either of them could stop him.

He’d had a few days to get used to the town, and in that time he’d found a shortcut through the cemetery. It was a bit of a bumpy ride, and there were a few hills, but he could handle it.

Logan was so focused on riding that he almost missed when two people stepped in front of him. He slammed the brakes in just enough time to not hit the blond one.

“Halt!” One of the said. “Who are you?”

“Logan Dennison,” he answered.

“Where ya from?” blond guy said. “Haven’t seen ya anywhere before.”

“Los Angeles.” At their blank stares, he sighed. “LA.”

“Oh, wow,” the other one said. “Tubular.”

“I’m Toby,” blond kid said. “This is Mitchell.”

Mitchell grabbed Toby by his shirt collar. “How many times I gotta tell you, man? It’s not Mitchell, it’s Ice. Ice!” He let go and Jay turned back to Logan.

“Uh, this is Ice.”

Mitchell- Ice- turned around so Logan could see his hair- on the back of his head, the word Ice was shaved into his hair.

“So let’s have a butt,” Toby said, practically leering at Logan.

“I don’t smoke,” Logan said, leaning away from him.

“They’re very health conscious in Hollywood,” Ice laughed.

“LA is not-”

“You got any cash...Hollywood?” Toby asked, ignoring him.

“No.”

“You don’t got any cash, you don’t got any smoke...what am I supposed to do with my afternoon?” Toby asked, as if everything was Logan’s fault.

“Maybe you could learn to breathe through your nose,” Logan said, getting fed up. He just wanted to go home, was that too much to ask? Also, his grammar was heinous. Would it kill him to use the proper tense?

Toby laughed until Ice stopped him. “Woah, look at those cross trainers.” He looked up at Logan. “Let me try ‘em on.”

Logan went to push past Toby, but he wasn’t exactly one for physical confrontation.

He was left with a bad attitude riding home in his socks.

He opened the door a bit forcefully and breezed past his parents in the kitchen.

“Hey, Logan! How was school?” His mom called from where she was unwrapping their plates.

“It was fine,” He replied, not stopping.

Before he was fully up the stairs, he heard his father ask, “Was he not wearing shoes?”

“Must be some form of protest,” his mom answered.

Logan pulled the door to his room closed and leaned against it, sighing.

Once he’d collected himself, he pushed off the door and started feeding his fish. “Hey, guys,” he greeted.

He flopped on his bed and groaned loudly. He grabbed a pillow and pressed it against his face and screamed into it. He had homework, but that could wait until he was done with his current crisis.

He was just starting to relax when something burst out of his closet.

“Boo!”

He barely kept himself from screaming. “Patton!”

Patton, his younger brother giggled. “I scared you, I scared you!”

“Mom and dad told you to stay out of my room!” Logan exclaimed.

Patton stuck out his tongue. “Don’t be such a crab.” He scrambled on top of Logan’s bed and started jumping. “Guess what? You’re gonna take me trick or treating!”

Logan sighed. “Not this year, Pat.”

“Mom said you have to.”

“Well, she can take you herself.”

“She and dad are going to a party at the Town Hall.”

“Well, you’re eight. Go by yourself.” Logan pulled out his desk chair and his notebook to start on his math homework.

Patton jumped off the bed and came over to the desk. “No way! This is my first time! I’ll get lost. Besides, it’s the full moon. The weirdos are out!” He hugged Logan’s arm causing him to draw an unnecessary line on the page. “Could you forget about being a teenager for once? C’mon, we used to have such a spooktacular time trick or treating! Remember? It’ll be like old times!”

“The old days are dead,” Logan said, deadpan.

“It doesn’t matter, you’re taking me anyways,” Patton said triumphantly.

“Wanna bet?” Logan muttered, erasing the line.

Patton just smirked at him.

Patton ran down the stairs to meet their parents, Logan following at a much slower pace.

“Let’s go, hurry up. The witching hour’s about to begin.” Their dad grinned. He applauded Patton’s costume. “Wow, you look boo-tiful!” Patton giggled. He was wearing a black and orange dress with a matching hat in the stereotypical witch style. Then dad turned towards Logan. “And, what are you supposed to be?”

Logan was wearing jeans and a sweater and looked like he wanted to be anywhere else. “I’m a rapper,” he deadpanned.

“You gotta have a hat on sideways, then,” their mom said, coming out of nowhere with a baseball cap. She plopped it on his head. “There we go.”

“Okay, smile!” dad said, holding up his camera. “Say...Halloween!”

“Halloween!” Patton chorused.

Logan didn’t smile.

If anyone doubted that Salem, Massachusetts loved Halloween, seeing it now would make a believer out of them.

Practically every house had gone all out on the decorations. Everyone you looked, there were spiderwebs, lights, blow-up witches, you name it. Hundreds of kids ran in the streets- which had been blocked off just for the trick or treating- yelling and shouting to their friends. At every house, someone waited just inside the door, eager to give out free sugar.

“C’mon, Lo-Lo, lighten up!” Patton said, practically skipping through the streets.

“Can we just get this over with?” Logan muttered. He didn’t want to ruin this for his brother, but he also didn’t want to be there.

Patton continued on, hopefully not hearing him. “Let’s go this way!”

Logan looked in the way his brother was pointing and froze. “No, not that way, Pat.”

Of course, he was ignored. Logan had no choice but to follow his brother towards Ice, Toby, and a group of their friends.

Ice spotted Patton and cut him off. “Ding, ding!” he said. “Sorry, kid, everyone’s gotta pay the toll.”

“Ten chocolate bars, no licorice,” Toby grinned.

“You’re not being very nice,” Patton said.

“Whatever. Cough up the candy, kid.”

“No!” Patton stamped his foot. “Logan, tell them to go away.”

The teens turned their attention to Logan, and twin grins of glee spread across Ice’s and Toby’s faces.

“Hey, Hollywood!” Toby said.

“You’re trick or treating?” Ice asked.

“I’m taking my brother around,” Logan said, very uncomfortable with this situation.

“That’s nice. Woah, I love the costume. What are you, a New Kid on the Block?” Ice grinned.

Patton tried to keep walking, but Toby stopped him.

“Dude, just pay the toll.”

Logan had had enough. “You know what, here.” He shoved his own candy bag, half full, into Ice’s chest. “Pig out. Let’s go, Patton.”

He grabbed Patton’s hand and started in the other direction.

“Hey, Hollywood!” Ice called to their retreating backs. “The shoes fit great!”

“Are you okay, Pat?” Logan asked.

“Yeah,” Patton said quietly. “I kind of want to go home now.”

“Hey, come on.” Logan said. He kind of hated those kids for ruining his brother’s night. “How about we go to one more house. Then we can leave, okay?”

Patton thought for a minute, then nodded.

They looked around and saw a huge house.

“Woah!” They both said.

“Rich people always have the best candy,” Patton said matter-of-factly.

“Well, guess we’re going there, then.”

The door was wide open and there were people coming in and out, some in costumes, so Logan assumed it was okay to just walk in.

The entryway itself was huge, but that didn’t compare to the huge front hall they stepped into.

There was a huge chandelier hanging over them, and a carved staircase that probably cost more than the Dennison house. The only thing that ruined the whole rich mansion vibe was the Halloween decorations covering everything.

Patton spotted a huge plastic cauldron and ran over to it. “Jackpot!” He gasped, reaching in and pulling out multiple full-size candy bars.

“Logan Dennison?”

Logan looked up at the sound of his name and met eyes with V. He was standing at the top of the stairs, wearing some old-timey Victorian costume.

“Oh, hey!” He said. “V, right?” He tried not to blush when he noticed his hair was pulled into a ponytail.

V started down the stairs. “Virgil, actually. V’s a nickname.” He looked Logan up and down. “I thought you weren’t into Halloween?”

“I’m not, just taking my brother around.”

Virgil waved at Patton. “Hi. I’m Virgil, I’m one of your brother’s friends.”

Logan flushed.

“Hi!” Patton exclaimed. He waved.

“You guys want any cider?” Virgil asked, crossing his arms.

“Yes!” Patton exclaimed. Logan nodded.

Virgil went into the next room and came back holding three cups of cider. He handed them out.

“Thanks.” Logan’s mind raced for some kind of conversation. “Um, how’s the party?”

“Boring,” Virgil said, rolling his eyes. “It’s just a bunch of my parent’s friends. They do this every year. I’m on candy duty. Speaking of.” He turned to Patton. “I love your costume!”

“Thanks!” Patton beamed. “I really like witches. We just learned about those brothers in class.”

“Oh, yeah, the Sanders Brothers,” Virgil smiled. “Yeah, I know all about them.”

“Really?” Logan asked.

Virgil shrugged. “My mom used to run the museum. It’s closed down now, though.”

“Well, why don’t we go?” Logan said before his brain caught up with his mouth.

“What?” Virgil and Patton said at the same time.

Well, no going back now. “Teach us about the Sanders Brothers. Make a believer out of me.”

Virgil’s eyes darted between Logan, Patton, and the candy bowl. After a minute of thought, he sighed. “Yeah, okay. Let me get changed real quick.”

He disappeared up the stairs, leaving Logan and Patton alone.

“Ooh!” Patton exclaimed. “You liiiike him!”

Logan flushed. “What? No, I don’t.”

“You do! You like, like, like, like, like, like, like-”

“Okay, that’s enough!” Logan grabbed his brother and covered his mouth with his hand. A split second later, he dropped the younger boy. “Did you just lick me?

Virgil led the way up the path to the old cottage.

It wasn’t as far from town as Logan had expected. They’d been able to walk there in under twenty minutes. But even though it wasn’t that far away, being in the woods made it feel a lot more isolated than it should have. The yelling of trick-or-treating children had disappeared, and the only sounds were their footsteps and leaves rustling.

“Legend says,” Virgil said in a spooky voice, “that the bones of a hundred children are buried within these walls.” He unlocked the door and ushered everyone in.

“I can’t see,” Patton announced.

“There should be a light switch somewhere,” Virgil said, feeling along the wall.

Logan found a display of lighters and flicked one on. This must have been a gift shop at one point. He held out the small flame to the wall and helped Virgil find the switch.

The lights flickered on, revealing the cottage in all of it’s dusty glory.

“Wow,” Patton said, drawing the word out in awe.

“This is the original cauldron,” Virgil said, motioning towards it. “They would have slept upstairs. Ooh!” He moved over to a display case. “This is the spell book of Damien Sanders. It was given to him by the Devil himself.” His voice was quiet, but the pitch rose and fell in a way that made it almost hypnotic to listen to. “It’s bound in human skin and contains all the recipes for his most powerful and evil spells.”

“Gross,” Patton whispered.

Logan spotted something interesting. “What’s that?” He asked, pointing at it.

Virgil looked up. “Oh! That’s the Black Flame Candle.”

Logan noticed a placard near the candle and moved over to read it. “The Black Flame Candle. Legend says that on a full moon it will raise the spirits of the dead when lit by a virgin on Halloween night.” He raised the lighter, a weird compulsion coursing through him. “Want to light it?”

“What? No!” Virgil said, alarmed.

“Logan, it’s a full moon tonight!” Patton added.

Logan’s hand moved to light the candle, but before he could do anything, a pitch dark shape pounced on his head.

Patton screamed and Virgil shouted. Logan fought with the thing on his head, eventually managing to throw it off of him.

“Stupid cat!” He exclaimed. There was a strange sense of rage filling him that made it hard to think.

“Okay, Logan, you’ve had your fun.” Virgil sounded scared. “Let’s go, now.”

“Logan, he’s right, let’s go.” Patton said.

“Oh, come on,” Logan said angrily. “It’s just a bunch of hocus pocus.”

“Logan, I’m not kidding!” Patton exclaimed. “It’s time to go!”

Before anyone, including himself, could stop him, Logan lit the candle.

Virgil’s intake of breath could be heard across the room.

For a second, nothing happened. The flame flickered normally, a bright orange color. Then Logan blinked and it was black.

Around the room, the fake electric candles popped one by one, plunging the room into darkness for a second. The floorboards started to move under their feet, bucking up and down. Green light shone from underneath them.

Then, just as soon as everything started, it was done.

“What happened?” Logan asked.

“A virgin lit the candle,” Patton said dryly.

All the actual candles suddenly flared with light. Flames roared from under the cauldron, and they heard footsteps outside.

The small group ducked behind things as the door swung open, revealing three men wearing cloaks of different colors.

“We’re home!” The leader announced.

[bbbarneswrites]

Bucharest Diaries | THE LIBRARY

Bucky Barnes x Reader*

Summary: Snapshots of Bucky’s life in Romania. In which he meets someone when he least expects to. Genre: Romance/fluff Rating: T Warnings: Swearings 1,568 words

Notes: OKAY. I’ve been thinking about expanding this whole Bucky in Romania thing and I don’t know what happened today that this came out. It’s really corny though, LMAO. Any Romanian readers out here willing to help a girl out with some info, hmu! The poem down there is originally titled Poveste Sentimentală and both it and the book are written by Nichita Stănescu. Guess that’s it! Happy reading! <3

Tied to The Apartment Chronicles and Two Sides!

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Life in Romania is quiet. Dull. Repetitive, at times.

But even so, Bucky doesn’t complain about it. After the shitshow that his life has been, he’s thankful to be just another face in the crowd, just another body to bump against in the street. Despite the blood stained past, he’s content in rebuilding his life as just another random person.

(As random as he can be, that is. Somewhere deep down, Bucky knows this is likely to not last).

Getting settled in Bucharest had been fairly easy for someone like him.

He gets a job. Heavy manual labor, perfect and low-key, no paperwork needed but with fair pay. He gets an apartment. Small and old in a communist era apartment building but just enough for someone like him. No neighbors or tenants.

And then, with time – Bucky builds a routine.

Sometimes he works during the day. Sometimes at night. Sometimes he gets days off. The free nights are mostly meant for his journals. Re-reading them is a good pastime and it often sparkles his supressed memories. In the free mornings, he likes to sleep-in. To feel the softness of his blanket, watch the sun slip through the newspapers covering the windows of his place.

But It’s different when he’s got the whole day.

He can go to the market that stays two blocks away, visit touristic points that aren’t too crowded, walk around the Old Town and hide in the mass of people.

Or like today, pick a book in one of the local libraries.

Trying to look as inconspicuous as someone like him can be – because he might not be an assassin anymore but he still has a figure – Bucky walks from corridor to corridor, eyes silently scanning every book’s spines.

As he reaches the poetry section, he stops by a title. O viziune a sentimentelor. Though he normally wouldn’t go for a poetry book, the name catches his attention like no other did so far.

His fingers reach out for the cream colored book and just when he’s about to pull it out–

“That’s one of the best Romanian books. Ever.”

Bucky can’t help but freeze at the sudden appearance, hand tightly closed around the book, too startled at not hearing the steps after him.

You don’t seem to notice though, your input falling unasnwered in the empty corridor for a few moments as your attention diverges for a row of books in the opposite shelf, your hands trailing through the dust until finally picking up a bright red one.

The soft, whispered ‘a-ha!’ you let out is enough for Bucky to turn around.

Eyes trailing from your feet and up, he stops midway through it. It’s creepy and it might make you uncomfortable. He knows he doesn’t look like the friendliest of men. Between the white sneakers, lace trimmed shorts and white top that flashed a silver of your skin, Bucky doesn’t look up to your face.

Until you speak up again.

“It took me two weeks to read this book.” You mention to the book in his hands with your own, an amused smile forming on your lips as you roll your eyes. “The Romanian was a bitch to crack through.”

Bucky doesn’t say anything – feeling suddenly torn about striking a conversation or posing as an uneducated son of a bitch.

You don’t mind the brief silence, taking the time to watch him.

Even though the summer is just a few weeks away, he wears a heavy, maroon jacket. You know the gray top underneath is long-sleeved too. Black cap and black glove and jeans, brown hair brushing against the light stubble of his jaw. He’s tall and his broad shoulders are nothing but imposing.

If by chance you’d met him after a night-out in Old Town with your friends, you’d switch for the other sidewalk.

Right now, he looks somehow familiar. Despite everything, he manages to look soft as he finally talks to you.

“My Romanian is rusty.” He says, lips pursing for a small moment as he shrugs and clears his throat, blue eyes settling on you again. “It will be good practice.”

At the realization he speaks English too, you smile. And Bucky swears it lights up your face, the gloss of your lipstick looking more appearent as you do.

In another time of this life, he knows exactly what his old self would do. For the first time in months, he wishes to be like him again – easy with words and blessed with natural charm. To be the guy a pretty girl would give the time of her day.

He’s on the run but he’s not blind. He knows you’re pretty.

(Even more when you bite your lip. Not that he should be noticing all that).

“Then you should have this one.” You shake the book in your hand, cheeks warming up when his gaze lifts from your lips to your eyes again. “For practice.”

You hand him the bright red covered book and Bucky reads in worn golden letters. Poezii by one Mihail Eminescu.

When he looks up again, you have a smirk playing on your lips, fingers pulling another book from the shelf. A green one with similar golden letters. He can’t read the title, not even when you hold it against your chest and start walking backwards and out of the poetry section.

“This one is yours.” Bucky retorts, two books fitting easily between his metal fingers, lips quirking in an unexpected side smile. “I don’t mind waiting one more week.”

The words feel odd at the tip of his tongue – somehow flirty, almost feeling like an invitation, a plead.

And just before you turn around to leave–

“I don’t mind it either.” You tip your head to one side and raise your free hand, pressing a single finger to your smiling lips. “One week.”

An invitation that you take it.

One week that turns into two and then turns into three and soon it’s a month (and a half).

You become friends.

Bucky learns a lot about you in the short period.

He knows you’re an interchange student that switched the last year of your graduation to try your luck somewhere else. He knows you’ve been reading Romanian novels to improve your language skills because you’re terrible at it. He knows you like fashion and he always takes note on your clothes.

He watches – it’s a natural trait of the soldier – and he learns a lot about you in the short period.

Quirks, likes and dislikes, moods.

Bucky draws a line at friendship but it’s hard to ignore the feeling flaring in his chest everytime you smile around him.

You never ask anything about him. As far as it goes, he’s just an American man trying life in different country. Bucky guesses you might think he’s a veteran, a regular soldier with a backstory similar to many men that come back from war.

(He almost wants to be suspicious at your disinterest. But it’s you so he doesn’t).

His routine is a little less dull now. His days off are spent in the library and each time he comes back home with a new novel to read, often Romanian authors you’ve heard in your classes.

Sometimes his late mornings are replaced for early meetings, like today, as he watches you switch from tab to tab in your laptop, sitting in a study desk at the back of the room with books and papers all around you.

And between watching every little detail from you – to the little flowers in your pants to the glitter of your nails, Bucky frowns in confusion when you smile softly at the screen.

“Look at this poem.” You say quietly, turning the laptop screen to his direction with a knowing smile, your shoulder brushing against his as you rest back on the chair. “Nichita Stănescu.”

As he leans closer, words in Romanian come to him as easily as if it’s in English.

Then we met more often. I stood at one side of the hour, you at the other, like two handles of an amphora. Only the words flew between us, back and forth. You could almost see their swirling, and suddenly, I would lower a knee, and touch my elbow to the ground to look at the grass, bent by the falling of some word, as though by the paw of a lion in flight. The words spun between us, back and forth, and the more I loved you, the more they continued, this whirl almost seen, the structure of matter, the beginnings of things.

Ignoring his ridiculously fast beating heart, and how much the poem speaks to both of you, Bucky turns his head to you–

Already looking at him, with your lips miserable inches away from his own. And he doesn’t pull back. Maybe because he’s too startled. Or maybe because he simply doesn’t want to.

“It’s beautiful.”

You sigh and it falls right into his mouth. Bucky recognizes the poem from the book he got when he met you and he knows what it means, how it fits what you have, if there’s something to think of. He pulls back anyway.

“It  is.”

He doesn’t specify what but he knows you know by the way you look at him.

Bucky draws a line.

And he thinks everything will be fine – at least until the nightclub incident happens.