Crubbles’s Snow Globe

The unluckiest item in the world The only hope you have is to accept the fact that you’re already dead J/37

[applesdream]

she's so me 🙃

[preachersellie]

˚　　★　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　 .

[timelooplesbianlesbianlooptime]

trinity, crashing out over victoria: 6 years doesn’t seem like a huge age gap but when you think about it, she barely started highschool when covid hit, you know ? when she talks to me about her tiktok trends and i understand absolutely nothing, i realise how young she actually is and i feel like a pervert !

robby, shirtless in her kitchen after spending the night with dennis: oh my god you’re a monster santos how dare you take advantage of that girl

[bimbinis]

you know a joke that never EVER gets old is when a character says smth like “I will NOT go to [place] and that is FINAL” and then it cuts to them in that place I eat that shit up every single time

[robylovi]

I love it especially when it cuts to them like this:

[hydrasplatl1ng]

[sweaterkittensahoy]

Prompt: “You were crying in your sleep last night.”

Pairing: CrozBucky

Something's off. Harry can feel it in the air like a storm coming in. John's been careful around him all morning, moving like Harry's delicate or easily spooked. Harry's spent the last couple of hours waiting for John to say whatever he's clearly holding back, but he doesn't. He just looks at Harry for a few seconds, then looks away.

Harry manages to hold off on asking questions until they're weeding the vegetable patch. John's staying so close Harry keeps landing an elbow in his ribs, and it finally makes him sigh and stop and look at John and say, "Okay, what is it?"

"What?" John asks, and Harry can't believe there was ever a time he couldn't see through John's lies. He's a deeply terrible liar. His tone is flippant, but his eyes say everything. He's worried. A little scared.

"You've been tiptoeing around me all morning. What is it?"

John gives him a long look, and his eyes are sad and pained. "You…you were crying in your sleep last night." Before Harry can say anything, John adds, "That's usually my job," and the attempted joke doesn't land at all, and John knows it. "Sorry," he mutters, looking away.

"No sorries," Harry says from habit. They'd set a rule after the war. No apologies for things that don't need them. Not John's attempts at jokes to lighten the mood. Not Harry's overthinking making him ramble on some minor detail of his day because he's built it in his head. No apologies for just being who they are. John nods sharply to show he understands.

"You were crying in your sleep," John repeats. "I shook you, but you didn't wake up, and I…I wasn't sure what would happen if I did."

John wakes up screaming sometimes. Sometimes, not. He throws punches sometimes. Sometimes not. Harry doesn't blame him for not wanting to find out if Harry handles his own situation better or worse.

"Was I…" Harry searches for the right word. "Did I say anything?"

"No," John says. "That's why I let you sleep after I tried waking you up. You weren't—you didn't—" He stares at the ground. He hates how he wakes up. Fears that Harry will get tired of the screaming or the swinging and walk away. Others have left because he's too much, John had said exactly once, and Harry had bitten his tongue hard so he didn't demand an enemies list. Because anyone who would leave John and his wide-open heart is Harry's enemy.

"I dreamed about Bubbles," Harry says. "It wasn't sad. It was…" It's his turn to look at the ground. John's hand is next to his. They're both dirt-streaked. Harry reaches out and takes John's hand. John squeezes hard. "We were flying. Not in a fort or anything, just flying in the air. We were laughing. I don't remember why. It wasn't anything sad."

"You miss him," John says.

"Sure do," Harry agrees. He looks at the vegetable patch, at the little clapboard house. At John. Who is watching him and has been. "I wish he could visit."

John squeezes his hand again. "Me, too," he says. "I always liked him."

Harry smiles. "Yeah, so much you nearly ran us over our first day on base."

John snorts. "In my defense, I didn't know you were interesting yet."

Harry laughs and shoves at John until he falls backwards onto the tops of the carrots. "How dare you," He says. "I exude interesting."

John just laughs and pulls Harry to the ground on top of him. He hugs Harry tight and tucks his face against Harry's neck. "Well, sure, I know that now," he says and loses it when Harry tickles his sides.

Harry thinks, as they tussle and end up in a dirt-throwing fight, that he really does wish Bubbles was here. That he misses him desperately. But he's also so grateful to be here himself, being silly and stupid with John. Being able to talk to him about these things even if it's a little hard. Even if it'll always be a little hard. Even if he wakes up every single night because John cries or shouts or throws a punch. Because at the end of that thought, John is here and smiling and smeared with dirt from their vegetable patch, and Harry simply wants more of it for as long as he can get.

[sweaterkittensahoy]

Prompt: “I’m going to lift you up, okay? Tell me if it hurts.”

Pairing: CrozBucky

Harry isn't sure how he ended up on the ground, but he is definitely on the ground. There's noise coming towards him, but when he triees to lift his head to see what's happening, he gets very dizzy, and his head drops back down.

Bucky's standing over him, eyes huge. "Fuck," he says.

"What?" Harry says. Bucky's staring at his head, so Harry reaches up to touch it.

"No!" Bucky shouts, then drops next to Harry and yanks a handkerchief out of a pocket. He presses it to Harry's head, and a sharp, awful pain rocks through Harry. "Sorry," Bucky says. "Sorry. Sorry." He doesn't stop pressing against Harry's head though.

"Am I—" Harry struggles to figure out how he's injured because he cleearly is. "Did I get shot?"

Bucky stares at him for a moment. "What? No. No. Your head's split open."

"Oh," Harry says. Things get fuzzy for a moment. "Things are fuzzy," he says.

"Yeah, that's not surprising," Bucky replies. He's calming down, Harry realizes. He must have been scared.

"Were you scared?" Harry asks.

Bucky slides an arm around Harry's back. "I'm going to lift you up, okay? Tell me if it hurts."

"Okay," Harry says. Bucky starts to help him sit up. Nausea roils through Harry, and he gags. "I'm gonna—"

Bucky turns him to the side, and Harry retches and gets sick. Harry doesn't know how long it takes, but by the time his stomach is empty, Bubbles and Brady have joined them.

"Never seen you do that on the ground," Brady says, then winces when Bubbles punches his arm.

"You okay, Harry?" Bubblese asks. "Ham says he's sorry."

"What'd Ham do?" Harry asks as Bucky rubs his back.

"He threw his bat to run to first, and it clocked you," Bubbles says. "You probably need stitches."

"Bubbles, get his other side, will you?" Bucky asks. "He's heavier than you'd think."

"Trust me, I know," Bubbles says. "Took me out with a drunk slip when we were in basic."

"I apologized for that," Harry says.

Bubbles tucks Harry's arm around his shoulder and counts quietly under his breath. He and Bucky both stand on three. "And I forgave you," Bubbles says. "Can you walk?"

"Sure," Harry says, then immediately pitches forward and gets sick on the second step. "Maybe not," he manages.

"All right, come here," Bucky says and suddenly Harry's in a bridal carry like he doesn't weigh a thing.

"Oh, for fucks' sake, use a Jeep," Brady grouses.

"Bubbles, run ahead and let Smokey know he's got a cut and is probably concussed," Bucky says. "Brady, give me your handkerchief. Mine's soaked through."

"Sure thing," Bubbles says and jogs off.

"I can—"

"Quiet," Bucky says and turns Harry towards Brady, who has his handkerchief out and folded over.

Harry stares as Brady pulls a very bloody handkerchief off his head and very gentely presses his clean one to it. "Am I—am I okay?" he asks, the blood making him queasy again. He has to close his eyes.

"You're fine," Brady says in that bothered big brother way he has. "Your knight in shining armor will carry you into the sunset of the infirmary, and you'll be fine."

"Thanks, Brady," Bucky says. "Feel free to get back to the game."

Harry opens his eyes just enough to see Brady give him a sympathetic look. He waves weakly. Brady snorts and pats his knee. "I'll keep Ham away until Doc says you're good to go."

"Thanks," Harry says, and Bucky starts walking. Harry has to close his eyes again, and he presses his cheek to Bucky's chest.

"You're okay," Bucky says, and he sounds a little like he doesn't believe it.

Harry feels Bucky's cheek against his hair. "You have to kiss it better," he says.

Bucky hums in amusement. "You're probably concussed, and you're still horny as hell."

"A handsome man is carrying me across base in his big, strong arms," Harry replies.

Bucky chuckles. "Well, don't wiggle. I don't want to drop you."

Harry doesn't say anything. He lets Bucky carry him and then lay him on a bed. Bubbles leans against the wall while Bucky sits in the chair next to the bed and holds onto the knees of his trousers like he'll try to help if he doesn't.

Doc Smokey removes the handkerchief and whistles under his breath. "You'll definitely need stitches, and it's going to bruise badly. I'll give you something for the pain, but we want to keep you awake as long as possible to check for that concussion."

"I can stay with him," Bucky says.

"We'll take turns," Bubbles replies, and he only grins when Bucky whips his head to glare at him. "You can go first," he says. "I don't mind."

Harry laughs without meaning to, then winces when it makes his head ring.

"For now, both of you can wait outside," Doc Smokey says.

They go, though Bucky lingers as long as possible. Doc Smokey gives Harry a shot, and a few minutes later, he's floaty and relaxed as Doc Smokey stitches him up. Five stitches, then an ice pack, and then Bucky's back at his side, sitting on the bed instead of the chair and leaning in to kiss the gauze covering his stitches.

"Scared me," Bucky murmurs. "You dropped hard."

"I'm okay," Harry says because he's sure now. "I'm okay."

[sweaterkittensahoy]

As per your tags please elaborate on Ham and Ken calling everyone chicken fuckers!

Okay, so first of all, every single person in MotA should have been cursing every third word at minimum. I know we gotta clean up the language to some extent because reality is unrealistic and the way the WW2 generation has been lionized has led to this idea that everyone was a saint who never swore at all.

In reality, no one swore like WW2 troops (including the ladies), and no one is more ready to call you a chicken fucker or a pig fucker or a horse fucker or a goat fucker or a dog fucker than a farm boy who is just real tired of your shit.

And Ken and Ham are both farm boys. As were many of the men on that base. You bet it was a non-stop list of animals you'd fuck because you were too ugly to get a date; animals you'd fuck because you were so bored waiting for something to happen. Animals you'd fuck in church on a dare and so on and so forth.

I imagine the city boys are highly offended the first few times they're called chicken fuckers. None of the country boys give a shit. It's like saying hi.

[meyerlansky]

curt biddick x fight! by sophie hunter

[sweaterkittensahoy]

SEE IT AGAIN

[rcbertleckie]

rosie and croz climbing into their forts — requested by @piastrinho

[universeleads]

I explained the concept of "blorbo from my shows" to my 71 year old immigrant grandfather because I referenced it in passing and I thought nothing of it, until today when he said "I think I'll watch peaky blinders tonight and see my blorbo from my shows" referring, of course, to Cillian Murphy playing Tommy Shelby

[universeleads]

English isn't his first language so he's not super in touch with modern slang, so I've been accidentally teaching him to talk like a tumblr user. His favorite thing to say lately is "me when I'm a little hater" when he's like talking shit about the neighbor's son

[overwhelmedfernfrond]

I explained the “x before gta6” meme to my immigrant father and he, in turn, explained to me how back in his day in Romania, they had the same type of joke, except instead of it being gta6, it was about the imminent death of a singer named Gică Petrescu, who everyone was continuously shocked by because he refused to die. Every time a momentous event happened people would say, in essence: “This happened and Gică Petrescu hasn’t even died yet?!?”

So. He understood the gta6 meme immediately because they apparently had the same thing in Romania when he was young, except way, way more morbid

[meyerlansky]

curtbuckygale + text posts [1/?]

[afurioushawk]

Fork found in kitchen

[sweaterkittensahoy]

Really wish I remember who said the people most likely to yell about the supremacy of the white race all look like a toe with a face drawn on it.

Like, aim for their views not their looks, but it's up there with the Mormon hair dent as an identifying feature.

[crubblessnowglobe]

“Really wish I remember who said the people most likely to yell about the supremacy of the white race all look like a toe with a face drawn on it.”

WHEEZING

[crubblessnowglobe]

PBALL CAN’T KEEP GETTING AWAY WITH THIS!!!

[s1udgebeast]

fun in robby’s office

[luckyladylily]

So the thing is boobs really do be jiggling. If having breasts has taught me anything it is that the ladies frolic. I don't even have that large of boobs but every time I go down some stairs all I can think about is that stupid quote about boobing breastily down the stairs or whatever it is because God Damn.

But anime and video game boob jiggling is like. The most uncanny valley shit I've ever seen nine times out of ten. You would think people this horny about tits would have actually looked at some but I guess not.

What we really need is some pervert to compile the ultimate visual guide to boob bouncing physics that's just like 500 hours of meticulously organized videos of breasts of different size and shape and under different fabrics bouncing around from a wide variety of physical movements so horny game devs can finally get it right and I don't have to be creeped out by women who appear to have surgically implanted softballs in their chest under skin made of rubber bands.

[crubblessnowglobe]

My girls HURT.

[22ndnervousbreakdown]

Robbylangdon pins <3

Help they multiplied