#stare zitti

[lineesottili]

Capire quando tacere è una qualità che pochi hanno.

[buscandoelparaiso]

🦉🦉🦉🦉🦉🦉🦉 🌶️🌶️🌶️🌶️🌶️🌶️

[shodaw]

I’m aggravated bc Maneskin is such a good band but they’re not good at writing lyrics in English yet since they made it big internationally last year their new album is all songs in English but 1…

[girlonthelasttrain]

vabè, oltre ogni parodia proprio

[florsial]

More bartylus hc

-They are both fucking pretentious in their own ways (12 Owls Barty??? He would be on his knees for Lady Macbeth) (only cuz he thinks of Regulus when he reads her lines)

-Regulus is lokie more a Hermia variant from Midsummer Night's Dream and Barty reminds me of a more unstable Helena variant tbh

-People think that Regulus is the one who reads more but it's actually Barty. He reads the Song of Achilles and doesn't stop crying for DAYS, Regulus refuses to touch that book.

-He also was the first outta the both of them to read Jane Eyre and most of his annotations were about Reg

-Barty's first copy of Frankenstein belonged to Regulus so it was already annotated. He spent more time reading the annotations than the actual text. So Regulus had to get him a clean copy.

-Regulus likes to wear tinted chapstick because the look of being really pale with red lips makes him think he looks good. So this leads to his drinks being stained with red lips. Barty loves it, a simple act that makes his heart flutter.

-Barty drinks his coffee straight black while Regulus' coffee is just more sugar than anything

-Regulus has a variety of teas that he switches from daily, Barty just drinks black with cream and sugar.

-Regulus subconsciously taps his fingernails against a table or wherever, and normally it unnerves people (cuz he's a Black so they think he wants something from them) but Barty likes to zone out to the sound since he likes the steady rhythm Regulus taps on.

-Trans Regulus Black with expensive hair accessories that he doesn't use anymore and Barty Crouch Jr who has too much hair and not enough patience (and def not the style to pull off expensive hair clips)

-ULTRAVIOLENCE IS REGULUS' FAVORITE ALBUM I SAID WHAT I SAID HE IS BLASTING MONEY POWER GLORY ON REPEAT AND SCREAMING OUT THE LYRICS OF I FUCKED MY WAY UP TO THE TOP, BARTY LOVES IT WHEN HE GETS TO SING THE ENDING OF BROOKLYN BABY WITH HIM AND HE SO IN LOVE WHEN REGULUS SINGS THE BEGINING OF COLA

-Anyways Barty would like Måneskin, like cmonnn, him playing VALENTINE and thinking of Regulus?? Screaming his heart out to ZITTI E BUONI??? BABY SAID for the angst?? OWN MY MIND???? And him being Italian ig

-The Pantheon is hiding a snake in their dorms which likes to wrap itself around Regulus' neck, and Barty just stares

-Regulus comes back in 6th year with his hair cut and Barty chokes on his bitter ass coffee and coughs so violently a first year slytherin asked if he needed to see Madam Pomfrey

-Barty is pretty good with romance and sad movies, Reg is not, he actively balling his eyes out to fucking Disney movies. But Barty will not shut up during mysteries, he will immediately go on insane rants about the ending. And Regulus can’t hide his expressions when watching horror while Barty is watching with his brows permanently pressed together

[barrenwomb]

i hope my coworkers know i'm killing them with my mind every time they talk over me or start chatting in the background when i'm giving reports. i'm killing every single of them in cold blood

[i-gotyou-dontworry]

in the straightest way, I cannot stop staring at her boobs. They look bigger today.

👀 they zitties looks good

[buscandoelparaiso]

la qualunque che fa previsioni sul piazzamento dell'italia all'europeo

[parlamitucheiononmiparlopiu]

ho capito che io non vado d'accordo con la gente che non parla, con quella che non si incazza, quella che sta sempre zitta col capo chino e annuisce. Io non ce la faccio, ogni qualvolta qualcosa non mi andasse bene avevo il fuoco dell'inferno nel petto, stare zitta non è mai mai stato nel mio carattere, mai. E si va bene esistono caratteri e caratteri, non siamo tutti uguali blablabla però cazzo, cazzo ma alzatele quelle teste, ribellatevi, cazzo, ma a che vi serve subire tutto senza dire una parola? Le cose andranno di merda ugualmente e vaffanculo, ma almeno avete provato, almeno non siete stati zitti. Ribellatevi, smettetela di essere dei sacchi di patate ammuffite.

[couragescout]

Gli uomini che si sentono per forza in dovere di dirti qualcosa se ti vedono per strada, seduta su una panchina, ad aspettare fuori da un negozio, ad aspettare il treno o in una qualsiasi altra situazione mi fanno proprio incazzare. È più forte di loro, proprio non ce la fanno a stare zitti e continuare per la loro strada. Che odio.

[ilsalvagocce]

io e babbo portiamo i fiori al cimitero, prima che la notte scenda

nonno e nonna assistono al cambio di fiori di stoffa, sì di stoffa e pure di fiori veri. un compaesano in giro di cimitero, che non conosco e chiameremo signor mattone, perché ha un cardigan color mattone, si avvicina e attacca bottone, con mio padre, risaputo cordiale parlatore, ma sai, dico ma non lo dico, anche babbo desidera i silenzi di fronte ai suoi morti, sbuffo dentro, e per tutto il cambio vasi cambio fiori, colpetti di tosse, il signor mattone parla parla parla, dei tempi andati dei parenti suoi che non stanno lì, del chicchessiaqualunquecosa. Nonno Attilio sbuffa, giovane ragazzo quando mio padre aveva un mese soltanto, o non so cosa pensa. Ci guarda col volto basso, un po’ interdetto un po’ faccia di bronzo, capello impomatato sigaretta sospesa sulle labbra, pinces sui pantaloni, james dean prima di james dean, maledetta la vespa, maledetta la strada dell’incrocio dei paesi. Gina, dall’alto del suo gran petto che riempie l'ovale della foto e dal basso della sua minutezza, paziente, paziente per forza per amore, aspetta, che il signor mattone ci lasci soli, con la nipote mai conosciuta e il figlio adorato dagli occhi cerulei come i suoi, in bianco e nero. Sospira, la sento che sospira. Io faccio le faccende dei fiori, magari il signor mattone s’accorge e va via, però non so se ho scelto i fiori giusti per lei, se amava questi o preferiva i cristantemi, ma a me non piacciono tanto nonna, e poi non riesco a concentrarmi sull’ikebana, se non posso stare da sola qui con mio padre e con voi, questo signore marroncino continua a parlare della giunta comunale e di chi ruba i fiori alle tombe.

Mattone poi se ne va e io chiedo a babbo un ricordo di tutti e due, anche inventato, è la nostra preghiera. Poi ci prendiamo sottobraccio e andiamo verso la tomba di Grazia, saliamo le scale, c’è un tragitto da fare per raggiungerla, anche se casualmente, è stato un caso, ma nulla è per caso, nel cimitero la tomba di mamma e quella dei nonni si guardano, mamma dal balcone, loro da basso, attorno all’aiuola verde. Una prende l’alba, loro il tramonto.

C’è un sacco di via vai, tutti sembrano più di me provvisti di fiori speciali acque e spruzzini e lavette, io con le mie rose color malva chiaro, e poi volevo pure le foglie e pure le melagrane dell'orto nostro, ma i vasetti son piccini, e tra poco cala il sole.

Arriviamo da mamma a ovest, e come fantasma urlatore scorgiamo il gomito del signor mattone lì davanti la pietra di mia madre. Non ci credo, ci stava aspettando lì, per parlarti ancora! Facciamo un altro giro, un po’ di silenzio vi prego su questa terra, magari si stufa e se ne va, intanto babbo racconta, saluta di qua, io invidio la nebbiolina fiorita di là, che annuvola i vasetti, passa tempo, cala la luce ancora un po', e poi ritorniamo da mamma, ora addirittura s’è creato crocicchio di altrettanti a me sconosciuti, in quei tre metri quadri di fronte alla parete di piccole lapidi. Sospiriamo, giriamo l’angolo verso mamma, facciamoci vedere, tanto qui non se ne va nessuno mi sa.

Ciao mamma dico piano, perché tutti attorno parlano forte di gente che sta male, di un marito che pensa! imbocca la moglie, e io mi dico ma ma ma, ma no, non dico, io e mamma ci guardiamo, la vedo con gli occhi all’indietro, che dice santa pace e qualche parolina di sarcasmo beffardo, babbo sorride contrito alle mie spalle, costretto alle parole degli Altri, è più silenzioso del solito, è scocciato mio padre, è scocciato anche lui, da signor mattone e signor senape e signora muschio, ma mai dirà Potete un attimo lasciarci soli?, Possiamo un attimo raccoglierci, zitti, zitti vi prego, su questa terra, d'altronde lui è il figlio di quei due là sotto all'aiuola dell'est, è il marito della donna qui davanti che sta di fronte al mare coi capelli al vento, e se ne frega dei capelli scapecciati, lui è quello che sta qui, lui accoglie.

Io invece sono la figlia di questo qui che accoglie, e della donna in foto di fronte al mare in tempesta, metto le tre rose color malva nel vasetto, come graffiare il muro della lavagna, mi avvicino alla pietra faccio quasi per entrare dentro il ritratto, cerco di immaginare le battute di mia madre scaccia-urlatori inopportuni, analfabeti della gentilezza, la guardo, chiedo suggerimenti, la vita fa ridere un sacco, ora mi metto un lenzuolo in testa e faccio BOOOO a tutti, così se ne vanno.

invece no, fingiamo di andarcene noi, salutiamo, gli Altri si dileguano, non c'è più da chiacchierare spettegolare a voce alta, torniamo indietro, zitti zitti, non abbiamo gabbato la morte, gabbiamo l'inopportuno, non è poco. Dai sistema i fiori, dimmi i ricordi.

[the-evil-pizza]

“Ma gianni morandi dov’è? ma vedi tu se posso stare dietro a gianni”

OK INTANTO E’ GIANNI MORANDI E VA DOVE CAZZO GLI PARE, OK? 

Se vuole andare al cesso per 2 ore in mezzo al festival noi tutti ci dobbiamo stare zitti e buoni e BASTA 

[seoll3miwrites]

Doing Time | Criminal Minds

Chapter 3. Zitti E Buoni

Back to Masterlist

Hana sees the BAU’s plane for the first time and holy shit is it nice. See end note for translations. Chapter Title: Zitti E Buoni by Maneskin

It was three days before the BAU was assigned a new case, it would be Hana's first real case with the team. She'd woken up an hour before she had to leave, making sure she had plenty of time to get ready.

After she'd taken a morning shower, she dressed in a simple pair of black trousers paired with a deep velvet red shirt. Her makeup with light, but finished with a deep red lip.  She styled her hair up carefully before grabbing her "go-bag" as Hotcher had referred to it as.

As she step out her room she heard music playing from the Kitchen, and when she turned the corner she saw her roommate; Sasha.

"Morning Sasha!" Hana yelled over the music still playing from the flat's speaker.

"Hana!" Sasha turned towards her smiling brightly, "You're never normally up this early? Do you want breakfast I'm making omelettes."

"Although omelettes sound amazing right now, I've been called in for work." She stated indicating to bag on her shoulder.

"For a case?"

"Yes."

"Oh my god this is your first real case with the BAU, when you get back we are totally celebrating." Sasha cheered loudly before hugging Hana tightly.

"Sasha."

"Huh?"

"I think your omelette is burning."

"Oh shit!" She quickly raced back to the stove and made sure to flipped the omelette before too much damage was done, "What would I do without you?"

"Be charged for arson firstly," Hana quipped earning a playful glare from her roommate. "Anyway I gotta go."

She said her goodbyes and began to make her way out the door, before turning back to yell. "Oh and if you have Peter over make sure to use protection!" 

"I'm on the pill genius!" Sasha yelled back.

"Yeah but it's Peter!"

"Just go to work!" 

Hana smiled before opening the front door, "I'll see you later."

She quickly ran to catch the bus that would take her into work, the commute was thankfully a lot easier than it had been the past week and no creep was sat in the back seat staring at her like yesterday. Although Hana had been working at the BAU for the last week this was her first real case, as she'd spent most of her time with Tara as they both received run down training to work in the BAU.

To say she was a little nervous was a major understatement. While she knew she had the capacity to be a great asset to the team, she knew she had to prove it. So as she sat on the bus, she put on her headphones and played music as she focused on her breathing trying to bring her stress down. 

Eventually she arrived at work and quickly made her way into the elevator where she was met with the site of the BAU resident genius; Doctor Spencer Reid. They'd spoken a little over the last week but this was their first time alone.

As she glanced over she noticed the book he had clutched in his arms was in Russian, her eyes lit up in excitement.

"You can read Russian?" She questioned. 

Reid turned his head towards, not expecting that question. "Yes, well I felt like rereading Anna Karenina again but I much prefer the original Russian text. I think it really helps with a lot of the nuances, that a translation can sometimes miss." He explained rapidly to the point that Hana almost couldn't keep up, "Do you speak it too?"

Hana nodded slightly before adding, "My adoptive father spoke Russian."

"Oh yes you would've spoken it growing up." He turned his body towards now,"sorry, I forgot." 

"Thought you had an eidetic memory Doctor Reid?" She teased him slightly, also turning her body to face him.

"Ah well..." he stumbled over his words. "I was more focused on who your father was."

"Yeah, I suppose the whole mass murder thing tends to trumps everything else, huh?" She titled her head slightly.

Reid seemed shocked at her blunt reply, and responded with a simple shy smile. The two stood together for a few moments of silence before the elevator bell dinged and the doors opened to their floor. 

"Позвоните мне, если когда-нибудь захотите практиковать свои навыки русского языка." Hana stated in Russian while winking at him before moving out of the elevator and pushing open the glass doors. 

She placed her bag down by her desk before making her way to the conference room for the case briefing; there she found Morgan and Rossi sat the desk waiting for the rest of the team to arrive. 

"Morning Gentlemen," She greeted before taking the seat next to Morgan, "What's the case?" 

"Don't know yet babushka, still waiting on Hotch but apparently we're not doing the original case anymore." Morgan replied with smile. After she'd join the team and told them about her past, Morgan had begun to call her Babushka. She'd already explained what it meant to which he'd simply replied, "I know, but it's also the only Russian word I know." 

"Really?" She questioned, "Wonder what the case is then?"

In that moment, Tara and Reid made their way into the room, seemingly continuing their conversation. "A bizarre coincidence, right?" Tara had quipped to Spencer as she placed her cup of coffee down on the round table.

"What's a coincidence?" Rossi asked the conversation clearly peaking his interest. 

"Tara's mom went to the same elementary school as the Truck Stop strangler's mom."' Reid explained as he placed his cup of coffee down, before placing a second cup in front of Hana.

"Ok, that's a little creepy somehow." 

"Cool though." Hana added while shrugging her shoulders.

"Don't get comfortable. The plane's waiting for us." Hotch stated as he made his way into the conference room with Garcia following closely behind him.

"10 minutes ago there was a poison gas attack on a city link commuter bus in Los Angeles." Garcia began to explain, and Hana eyes widened in surprise, "10 confirmed dead so far."

"Do we know what it was?" Tara questioned.

"Hazmat just got on the scene."

"Chlorine gas was used recently in Syria." Morgan suggested as everyone gathered their things and began to make their way out the conference room.

"Maybe it's connected."

"It also reminds me of the attack on the Tokyo subway. Religious cult members carried plastic bags of sarin and punctured them with umbrella tips." Reid added as the followed behind Hotch. 

"That was 1995. It could be a 20th year anniversary event." Rossi suggested further. 

"We'll find out." Hotch sounded determined as he swung open the glass doors the team following closely behind. 

They made their way out to the plane, which Hana had yet to actually see. It was an impressive aircraft, and the interior surprised her. It actually looked incredibly comfy for something that was government funded. 

"Jesus! Does this Jet even come with an air hostess?" She exclaimed as she took a seat on the comfiest chair she'd ever sat on. 

Morgan laughed before replying, "Not unless you count pretty boy here." He patted Reid on the shoulder before taking his seat. Reid, in return swatted him away before taking the seat opposite Hana. 

He smiled at the newest agent before pulling out a completely different book from the one in the elevator, Hana was able to glance at the cover and noticed it was War and Peace, once more in the original Russian.

"Thought you were reading Anna Karenina?" She queried, causing the Doctor to lift his head to look at her. 

"Oh, I finished that this morning, brought this one for the flight. Just some light reading."

"Big book for some 'light reading'" she replied curling her figures to indicate quotations. "You a fast reader or something."

"We'll I can read 5 words a minute so... I guess so." He replied, rather humbly.

"Holy shit"

"What?" 

"You're fucking smart at fuck, Doctor Reid."

He laughed at her statement, his lips curled into a wide smile as he did so, Hana thought he was adorable.

"Okay let's discuss the case, get a rough profile going before we get there, I'm calling Garcia now." Hotch stated as he opened his laptop and the team gathered around the small screen. Eventually they were greeted by the sight of the lovable technical analyst. 

"Oh, crime-fighters, I just got confirmation from the L.A. field office that traces of sarin were found." Garcia opened with when Hotch gave her the go ahead. 

"Sarin is the most volatile nerve agent there is." Reid began to explain, “Symptoms are felt within seconds. Watery eyes, foaming at the nose and mouth, and convulsions, paralysis, and death within minutes."

Hana winced at the Doctor’s description, she’d been lucky to never come across Sarin in her past line of work. 

"The last known use of sarin was two years ago in Syria, near Damascus." Tara suggested to the group.

"We've had recent threats of terrorism targeting major U.S. cities." Morgan also added building off what Tara had mentioned.

"The religious cult responsible for the Tokyo subway attack 20 years ago is also still active." Rossi proposed as an alternative profile.

"Very much so, but they've split into two branches with different names." Reid spoke rapidly, while still expressing his point clearly, “There's over 2,100 members and 4 of them are in Southern California."

"Where's the leader?" Morgan asked.

"Shoko Asahara's on death row in Japan. He's incoherent and confined to a wheelchair."

"So he's not calling any shots." Rossi quipped in response. 

“That’s putting nicely.” Hana stated quietly earning a bemused look from Reid; the only one who heard her. 

"No, but that doesn't rule out devout followers doing it in his name." Hotch had responded to Rossi, as the team continued the discussion. 

"Garcia, what do you know about the casualties?"

"Aside from the I.D.s, not much."

"Well, it's 6 men and 4 women, age range 20 to 60." 

"Victimology seems to be pretty random." 

"Here's the thing-- sarin evaporates quickly, it's hard to control, and would thus be very difficult to target an individual."

"Collateral damage may mask the real target." 

“They must have had a vantage view of bus to make sure the right victim was on board.” The youngest agent added, internally proud for contributing to the discussion. 

It was almost intimidating how well they bounced ideas of each other to make a brief profile. Even Tara had managed to keep up with them and she was just as new and Hana. 

"Garcia, look into the victims and also anyone online claiming responsibility."

"Aye aye, captain." Garcia responded before terminating the video call.

With the call ended the team took their seats and prepared for the case. Hana took her seat facing Spencer Reid once again, sighing softly to her self. 

"How are you feeling?” The young doctor suddenly asked her, “I was nervous on my first case.”

“Yeah I feel one second away from screaming. I mean chemical attacks aren’t exactly my forte.” Hana replied followed by a set of giggles mostly brought on by her nerves. Yet, rather than look at her strangely, Spencer began to laugh with her. She felt comfortable enough to keep laughing. 

Russian: Call me if you ever want to practice your Russian language skills

Prev Chapter // Next Chapter

[harshugs]

ALLORA mo dovete stare tutti zitti perché io sono freddolosa ma allo stesso tempo stronza perché non tengo mai i calzini quando sono a casa e finisco sempre per lamentarmi del freddo

PERÒ adesso ho due cazzo di paia di calzini di quelli in spugna pesanti e i gradi del mio corpo sono sempre allo stesso livello quindi ditemi dove sta il vantaggio nel tenere i piedi coperti senza poter sentire la sensazione meravigliosa delle lenzuola morbide e setose se tanto continuo a morire dal freddo

boh ma io lo dico sempre che l’estate è la stagione migliore

[rabbiasoffocata]

Se per stare nel mondo del lavoro bisogna essere presi a pesci in faccia e stare zitti stiamo messi male perché non accetterò mai una stronzata simile.

[libero-de-mente]

- Ciao sei interessante sai?

- Dici a me?

- Ci sono altri in questa chat?

- Effettivamente no

- Allora, Rino, tenebroso e affascinante uomo, cosa cerchi?

- Niente, davvero niente

- Hai due occhi che dicono molto

- Davvero? Gli avevo chiesto di stare zitti. Ora metto una foto con gli occhiali da sole

- Ti piace essere lo scrittore acchiappa like? Con quei racconti di personaggi sfigati e incapaci, racconti di persone depresse e disilluse, dai voce anche ai disagiati. Ironico

- In realtà racconto di me stesso

- Ah, guarda non volevo offenderti

- No, tranquilla che sia uno sfigato lo so per certo

- Dai non esagerare, addirittura ne sei certo. Sentiamo a che punto della tua vita lo hai scoperto?

- Dopo pochi minuti dal parto, caddi dalle mani dell’ostetrica

- …

- …

- Hai un bel sorriso

- È una paresi facciale

- Lo sguardo intenso

- Ero senza occhiali e cercavo di mettere a fuoco dove fosse l’obiettivo

- Tutti quei capelli, sono tuoi?

- No, me li sono fatti prestare da mia sorella

- Dici davvero

- Ma ti pare?

- Cosa mi pare?

- Quel che ti pare

- Mi sembra che ti vuoi parare

- Io mi paro? Ma ti pare che mi pari?

- Allora dispari?

- Che vuoi dire?

- Non lo so, mi sembrava una buona battuta

- Potrebbe esserlo, in un contesto diverso e freudiano

- Non ti seguo

- Non farlo

- Ok, capito. Quando vuoi mi troverai qui

- Qui dove?

- Nell’ascensore

- Davvero?

- Ma no pirla, qui in chat!

A questo punto, generalmente, mi bloccano. Chi resiste lo fa per due cause: intelligenza suprema e mi fotte, incoscienza da “bionda inside”.

Ps sono biondo