Since it's halloween, can you talk about some creepy italian stuff? I just now realised I never heard anything scary about Italy, except for ghost stories.
One word is enough: Trenitalia
Ok, so in Italy we don’t really celebrate Halloween, only recently we have adopted this holiday and mostly because it gives us a chance to party. The main holiday here is November 1st, All Saint’s Day (and we get to stay at home).
But many Italian people take this as a chance to celebrate “All Souls’ Day”, which falls on November 2nd and while it’s not a national holiday, it’s still a heartfelt holiday. Basically it’s a day dedicated to the memory of all those who have died and everyone in these two days goes around cemeteries to go and visit their dead relatives. This holiday is not limited to Italy, as it’s a Catholic-related occasion.
In Italy, there are tons of different local traditions connected to this holiday: in many places they leave sweets and cakes for the dead ones called “Dolci dei morti”, in Sicily they believe that the dead ones come out of their graves in the night between the 1st and the 2nd to leave sweets for the kids, called “Ossa dei morti” (the bones of the dead). In Treviso they eat a bread called “I morti vivi” (the living dead).
As for creepy Italian stories that anyone can look up:
Summary:You’re head over heels for your best friend Bucky and hate the nickname he gave you as it doesn’t exactly scream romance.
Word count: 3324 (I know, long. But it’s because idk when I’m gonna have more time to write the next chapterssss)
Warnings:Cursing, low-self esteem, chubby!reader x bucky, idk….
A/N: I’m overwhelmed with the feedback on the first 2 chapters! love you guys and i can only hope to live up to your expectations with this and all future installments!
was one thing you hated more than anything else in the world it was clothes
shopping. OK, that’s not entirely
true. Hydra was definitely up there…and
commercials’ whose volume was louder than the show you were just watching so
you had the crap scared out of you by some lady who was dancing and trying to
get you to buy tampons so you’d ‘have a happy period’ (no such thing)… you
really hated when you stepped in puddle on the kitchen floor while only wearing
socks…any sort of insect…when you bought a book series but, for some
unfathomable reason, the individual books weren’t the same height, because
that’s just ridiculous. Why would anyone
think it’d be acceptable to have books 1, 2, 3, and 4 to all line up perfectly on
the shelf then have 5 be slightly
taller only to then revert back to the original proportions for 6 and 7?! It’s was utter nonsense and the people
responsible for inflicting such depravity on the literary world should—
Rap! Rap! Rap! “Get
dressed!” Nat hollered from the other
side of the dressing room door. “I’m
going to pay for these. Meet me at the
register.” The clinking of hangers and
rustling of clothing signalled her departure as you hopped back into your jeans
and slipped your “Talk Wookie to me” T-shirt back on. You let out a sigh at your reflection. Can’t
wear this anymore, you thought dejectedly.
It was your favourite shirt.
Faded, thin, and baggy from having been thrown into the wash so many
times it was a shadow of what it once was.