#is it like donut king??

[carlos-tk]

okay i’ll bite 👀 what’s a dunkin donuts

[sun-snatcher]

I sincerely believe a Krispy Kreme Original Glazed could’ve saved Sauron btw

[amegeddon]

my ass is LEARNING!!!!!! Still working on the tutorial buuut it's getting late so I'll pick it back up tomorrow morning, then see if I can model something I tried to model a few years back (and utterly failed at because my ass could not figure out blender and refused to tutorial) so yippeee!!

[donut-entendre]

Heyyy just a reminder that saying Tucker's first name is lame is racist as hell. And also it's literally a cool name fuck you

[allylikethecat]

atkh soon come??

Ahhh thank you for sending me this ask I was low key kind of thinking maybe no one would notice if the update was suuupppper late (and by that I mean hopefully tomorrow).

The original plan had been to finish up the chapter yesterday. BUT THEN I managed to give myself a mild case of heatstroke / sun poisoning at the barn yesterday (yay summer) and basically spent most of the day laying on my cold tile floor with my work laptop wishing I was anywhere else. I went to bed at 6:30pm that's how bad it was. And then so today I was playing catch up on all the work stuff I didn't really do yesterday because I was laying on the cold floor wishing I had remembered to drink Gatorade. Which means I have not even looked at the chapter since earlier in the week and it is in fact not finished 😞 BUT I'm actually finally starting to actually feel better (yay!) and the plan is to finish it tomorrow - hopefully before the Oilers / Panthers game. I'm so sorry for the delay, and thank you so much for checking in about the update. I'm so grateful that you're enjoying ATKH and hope you continue to do so. I hope your Friday is going better than mine and that you have a wonderful weekend!!

❤️Ally

[coffeeandcalligraphy]

Harrison, he mouths to himself in the mirror. The bathroom is filmy or maybe it’s him—he’s in chrysalis, bloated in his own becoming or suffocation or whatever the fuck. The thing is, he doesn’t need a god and might be a king, but he’s also a man with a pounding headache. He tries again, his mouth shifty like cornmeal, like ash: Harrison. What do kings do when they get migraines? Buy a donut? Eat a saint? His eye sockets are vacant, his cuticles spinning into one another, hair sentient from the pool. Harrison. The walls smell like Jeremiah’s hair gel, Jeremiah’s fingerprints, Jeremiah’s latest cologne. In a minute, the paint could start peeling and Harrison could pick up the chips, tack them to his jaw like they’re gold stars or little HELLO my name is stickers. HELLO my name is, HELLO my name is, HELLO my name is. Harrison. Harrison. Harrison. He kneads his cheeks like he’s sourdough, pinches his eyebrows, goes: Harrison, sticks his fist in his mouth, tries again—Harrison. Jeremiah knocks on the door, says something about leaving soon, a friend waiting on them.

if u were a king and u had a migraine would u buy a donut harrison wants to know

[kaiba-cave]

Saw a tiktok that was like “I need a Canadian to explain to me why I went to Tim Hortons once, didn’t like it, and have been back every day for the past six days”.

It’s just like that. 😔 Pretty much anywhere else has better coffee/food/baked goods/basically everything but Tim Hortons will still have a drive thru line up out to the road every single morning and probably around noon too.

It’s like it gets into your bloodstream and you’re just compelled to go there all the time even though it’s not even good.

(It probably also helps that they are everywhere lmao. Like you’ll drive by ten different Tim’s before getting to a McDonald’s or Starbucks.)

[officialralsei]

Ralsei have you roasted marshmallows before?

Oh, I have done that! It was fun. Um, I burnt them a little bit... but once I figured out how to avoid doing that, the marshmallows that I toasted afterwards were very yummy! They were sticky, though...

[autistickaitovocaloid]

Does anyone know any good coffee chains that make affronts to coffee in drink form??? You can't say starbucks because we don't have them in my state and I'd rather die than set foot in one by myself.

[ventique18]

Prince Leona was the one who built Ruggie's dream school? 🤣 And apparently he's building schools left and right because the youth are the kingdom's future or some shit. 😭

It looks like all of Leona's subordinates really, really look up to him. They wanted him to do well as their king. They can't accept the current depressed Leona and dream of him getting back on his feet to become the ideal king who could save them...

Donut vendor: "In this place, nobody has to struggle just to eat. Nobody would ever starve for the rest of their lives."

[mizzmellos]

Headcanon if Light did that fanfic ass thing where he measured his dick length by stacking donuts on it L would have a seizure

NOOOOO didn't this happen in that one super popular Lawlight VN game that was everywhere back in the day??? <- just remembered this existed and only gave it a cursory browse I think it was called Bound Prince or something???

[aquaticmercy]

Waste a Moment / Part 1 

Summary : Bucky had always kept his distance, but seeing you get hurt on a mission changed everything. For the first time, he has a chance to start over with you.

Pairing : Bucky Barnes x avenger!reader (she/her) 

Warnings/tags : Mentions of food. Cursing. Memory loss. Head injury. Reader used to work in a museum.

Requested by :  @remoony

Word count : 2.8k

Note : This is the first of 17 parts which I will post every two days. I love writing stories that have a ticking time bomb-like conflict. The title is inspired by a Kings of Leon song of the same title along with Find Me, and Reverend. This was based on a request, but I might have taken a lot of creative liberties in expanding it. Let me know if you want to be tagged in the next part!

Series Masterlist

“Static on Her Brain”

Bucky had grown used to the sound of your laughter. It was bright, it made his heart do acrobatic flips. It was a reminder of everything he thought he'd lost touch with. 

Sometimes, it even cut through the icy walls he’d built around himself. He didn't feel like he deserved that kind of comfort, especially not from someone as stubbornly kind as you. But there you were, determined to breathe warmth back into his life, no matter how hard he tried to shut it out.

You kept trying, year after year. You weren't shy about it, nor did you hide your blatant crush on the former Winter Soldier— casual but respectful touches on his arm, bold compliments, always with that soft, teasing smile that lit up your face whenever you were near him.

But even as he kept you at an arm's length, Bucky had always watched over you. It was a subtle habit, one he barely allowed himself to notice. The moment you stepped into his periphery, he'd been quietly paying attention to you. 

Maybe it was the way your laugh carried sweetness through a room, or the way you always seemed to understand people as if they were easy read novels.

Though he'd never admit it, he'd found himself intrigued.

In the beginning, he told himself he was just being cautious— he was just keeping an eye on the new recruit.

But that was a lie.

He noticed you in ways he knew he shouldn’t. He picked up on the small things about you—the way you’d bite the inside of your cheek when deep in thought, the faint scent of your perfume, the different strategies you used when you tried so hard to pull him into conversations he said he didn’t want to have. 

He'd watch you in the training room, noticing the way your eyes would always find him. He’d catch those glances, and his heart would flutter at the shy but determined looks you’d throw his way.

He told himself that he didn’t deserve the things you were offering, that he didn’t need them. 

That he didn’t need you. 

But deep down, he wanted you. He’d wanted you from the start. And yet, he kept pushing you away, convinced it was better for both of you if he stayed in his lonely corner, watching from afar.

He kept his distance, pretending not to care. Pretending that your kindness didn’t chip away at his icy demeanour. Pretending he wasn’t moved every time you found some new way to show him he mattered. 

So he watched. He made sure you were safe during missions. He made sure you weren’t training too hard. He made sure there was always one of your favourite donuts left after a long day. He made sure to always buy your favourite tea to stock up the kitchen in the compound.

And you never noticed.

Three years ago.

"Barnes, you should join us for drinks," you said. You stood with your hands on your hips, leaning on the locker room door. You were a new recruit, and this was your welcome party. 

Everyone was invited, including him. Not that he wanted to be.

"No use hiding away when you’ve got a world to see,” you teased.

Bucky gave you a tight smile, just enough to be polite, and shake his head. "Not tonight."

It became a routine: you'd offer your kindness, your companionship, and he'd shut it down. 

Politely, at first, but eventually his defences had to become sharper, colder.

You didn’t stop, though. Every morning, there you were. Every mission briefing, every late-night sparring session, you found a way to check in on him. Always so effortlessly sweet, always making sure he wasn't alone.

It did not work. Of course not. He had convinced himself that he was beyond saving. 

A year ago.

"Why do you want me to join in on everything so bad?” He had whispered one day.

"Because you shouldn’t be alone, Bucky. I care about you,” you insisted, touching the back of his arm gently, “we all do.”

His heart ached hearing that— someone as sweet as you even thought about him.

He didn't deserve your care, not after everything he'd done, after the destruction he'd caused. And yet, there you were—a constant reminder of everything good he'd lost, everything he'd convinced himself he could never have.

He couldn’t handle it, couldn’t let you waste all that good on someone so irredeemable. Not on him.

So, he pushed harder. Harsher.

Monday.

You had sought him out with an offer for another friendly outing— a dinner offer at the new sushi restaurant down the street— when he finally snapped.

“You don’t get it, do you?” he hissed. “I don’t want your company. I don’t need your pity. You think you’re being nice?”

You stared at him, eyes wide, lips parting as if you had been struck by lightning.

He had always been distant. But he had never been hurtful.

“I feel like I can't breathe around you.”

Bucky knew he’d gone too far the moment the words left his mouth.

The hurt in your eyes was instant. Your smile—the one that was always so readily offered—faltered before it disappeared entirely.

He wanted to take it back, but his fear, his pride stopped him from doing so. 

You just swallowed and nodded, convincing yourself that his words didn’t hurt as much as it had. With a quiet goodbye, you turned and walked away.

He didn’t mean to hurt you. 

He never did. But the closer you got to reaching him, the more terrified he was of what you could see in him. 

You’d always been so persistent, but tonight had been different. He finally shattered something that may never mend.

The regret ate away at his brain for hours.

Tomorrow, he told himself. Tomorrow, I’ll find you, and I’ll make it right. 

Tomorrow, he’d explain it all. He’d tell you about the fear that haunted him. He’d tell you how desperately he wanted you to be there, even though he’d spent years trying to push you away. Tomorrow, he’d make sure you knew that he cared— and had cared for so long, longer than he would ever care to admit. Tomorrow, he would admit that he’d been a fool to ever think you were better off without him.

Tuesday.

But tomorrow never came.

Bucky didn’t even realise you had a mission until Scott Lang mentioned it to him in passing over morning training.

It was unusual. Before a mission, you’d go around town, telling everyone you’d be gone. Even when you couldn’t reach him, during the days he would lock himself in apartment, you’d sent you a quick text message: 

I have recon tomorrow. Will be back in a few days. In case you notice no one’s bothering you anymore :)

But not this time. Not after what he said to you.

That afternoon, while Bucky was making dinner, he got a call from Sam. 

His body froze, his world shattered when Sam said that it was about you.

“We lost contact,” he said grimly.

Before Sam could finish, Bucky was already grabbing his gear to prepare for the rescue mission first thing tomorrow. There was a growing fear in his chest too overwhelming to ignore.

He couldn’t shake the image of your face after their last conversation—how you had looked at him, how hurt you’d been.

If something happened to you…

Wednesday morning.

The rescue mission was all chaos. Fire and rubble littered the landscape of what had once been a secure enemy base. Bucky moved through the debris like a man possessed, heart pounding in his chest with every second that passed without finding you.

Smoke burned his lungs with every breath as the acrid scent of scorched metal and chemicals filled the air. His pulse roared in his ears as he called your name again, his voice growing hoarse, his steps becoming frantic. The longer it took to find you, the more the knot in his chest tightened.

He called your name again, wailing like a lost ghoul wandering in the underworld.

Then, he saw it—a flash of your suit buried beneath concrete and metal, motionless.

His voice cracked as cried your name again, running towards the wreckage.

You had been squeezed in between the floor and half of the roof, a wedge of concrete was the only thing keeping you from being completely crushed. 

Tears pricked by the edges of his eyes. He mustered all his strength and managed to lift up the entire roof— a display of strength he had never been able to achieve before. 

His heart dropped when he saw your form beneath it all, your face pale, your breathing shallow—barely there at all.

"Stay with me," he muttered, lifting you carefully from the wreckage, cradling your body in his arms. He was shaking, studying your face for any signs of life he could find.

His fingers brushed across your cheeks, trembling. He tried to keep his breathing steady, but the fear was too overwhelming. His voice was barely a whisper, “Please...”

Wednesday night.

The medics worked on you for hours, but you didn’t wake. Not after they stabilised your vitals, not after they brought you back to the compound.

Bucky sat by your bedside, his hand gripping yours so tightly his knuckles were white.

This was his fault. He knew that.

You had always been there for him, and when you needed him most, he had turned his back on you. He had broken you in a way he never thought possible.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered that night, voice breaking, his thumb brushing across the back of your cold hand. “You deserve so much better than this. I just... I just didn’t know how to handle it. I pushed you away because... because I was afraid. But I care about you. I care about you so much.”

His tears fell, landing softly on the blanket that covered you.

“I swear I’ll make it right. I’ll tell you everything I was scared to. Just please, wake up."

Thursday.

The next day was eerily similar, but this time, Bucky had a little more resolve. He leaned closer, his heart racing.

He still sat by your bedside, his shoulders slumping under the weight of his guilt. His hands, calloused from years of battle, trembled as they held yours, gripping tightly as if letting go would mean losing you. 

“I can’t help but think about how you light up every room you walk in. You always found a way to pull me out, even if I didn't show it.”

He couldn't stop the way his foot tapped against the floor, an anxious rhythm that accompanied the erratic beating of his heart. Every breath he took felt shallow, laboured, as if the room were closing in on him. His throat burned, but he refused to break, not yet. Not while you were still here, though silent and unreachable. 

He wiped away a tear that threatened to fall. “I miss you so much. I can’t do this without you.”

He let the silence wrap around him, hoping that somehow his words would reach you, wherever you were.

Friday.

When the medics told him there had been no change, Bucky’s fingers dug into the armrest of the chair. The leather creaked under his grip. His jaw clenched so tightly it ached, but he couldn't loosen it. 

As the hours passed, he found himself reminiscing, a small smile breaking through the heaviness. “Do you remember the time we went on the Latveria mission together? I thought I was going to be a distraction. You laughed and said I could never be. You told me I was your favourite partner. I should’ve known then that I meant something to you.”

He stood abruptly, pacing the small room, each step heavier than the last. His breaths came quicker, each exhale shaking as he rubbed a hand over his face, trying and failing to keep the panic at bay. 

His voice cracked, regret bubbling just beneath the surface. “And I took you for granted.”

Saturday. 

As the days wore on, his exhaustion became impossible to ignore. His limbs felt heavy, weighed down by sleepless nights and wrecked by the storm raging inside him. He leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees, his hands threading through his hair, tugging slightly as if the pain might soothe him. “I talked to Sam today. He says they’re doing everything they can.

He rubbed a hand over his face, frustration and fear blending into one. “I don’t know how much longer I can handle this.”

His chest tightened, a dull ache echoing from his ribcage as he stared at your motionless form, willing you to stir, to give him a sign that this nightmare would end.

“I’m waiting for you to wake up and tell me I’m being an idiot, that I need to stop worrying. I need you to tell me everything is going to be okay. Please, just be okay.”

But there was only the sound of the machines.

Sunday morning.

Bucky found himself hunched over the side of your bed, his head resting against the cool metal of the railing. His body hurt from staying in the same position for so long, but he didn’t care. He couldn’t move, couldn’t pull himself away from you. His metal hand tightened around yours, the cold vibranium contrasting with the warmth of your skin, though that warmth was fading. A shudder passed through him, his breath catching in his throat as he whispered your name again, desperate. His grip loosened, trembling, as though he feared he might break you, and yet, he couldn’t let go.

When he finally whispered those words— "I love you" —it felt like a weight had been lifted and dropped all at once. 

His chest heaved with the force of it— the confession had cost him every ounce of strength he had left. His hand shook as he brushed a stray hair from your forehead, the contact both comforting and unbearable. His fingers lingered there, trembling slightly, as he traced the curve of your face, memorising every detail, every contour, as if were trying to hold onto something that was already slipping away. 

“Come back.”

Sunday night.

Bucky sat at your bedside as he always did, his fingers brushing across your hand, the silence in the room deafening. He closed his eyes, resting his head against the side of your bed, fighting the exhaustion pulling at him. 

That’s when he felt it.

A small, almost imperceptible twitch of your fingers.

His heart skipped, and he shot upright, searching your face, desperate for another sign of life.

He whispered your name, as if to coax you out of the depths you had drowned in.

Then your eyes fluttered open. Slowly, groggily, emerging from the deepest of slumbers. He sat there, frozen, his heart hammering in his chest from relief.

But when you blinked and your gaze settled on him, something was wrong.

Your expression wasn’t one of recognition. There was no relief, no joy—only confusion.

Your brows furrowed, and then, panic.

"Bucky?" you whispered, your voice raspy from disuse.

His heart soared at the sound of your voice, but before he could respond, you pulled your hand away from him.

"Bucky Barnes,” you repeated, the tremble in your voice unmistakable. "The Winter Soldier. You—you’re a hero."

His blood ran cold.

He said your name, his voice shaking, trying to understand.

But you weren’t listening. The look in your eyes wasn’t one of a friend who knew him, who had fought alongside him.

It was the look of someone staring at a stranger.

Bucky felt the room spin around him, his stomach dropping.

You stared at him, wide-eyed, as your gaze darted around the white, sterile room in the medbay. "What... What happened to me?" you asked, your voice trembling, fear bleeding into your words.

But before he could answer, your eyes narrowed, and you whispered the last thing he ever wanted to hear. "Why are you here?" you asked.

His heart was hammering, pounding so loudly it drowned out everything else. He searched your eyes for some sign, any flicker of recognition. But there was nothing. His grip loosened, a tremor running through him as he stammered, “You—you really don’t remember?”

You shook your head no.

“I’m your friend,” he said gently, hoping it would jog your memory.

You tilted your head, then chuckled in disbelief— a sweet sound that he had missed so dearly. “Why would a superhero be friends with a museum curator?”

You hadn’t worked in the museum for four years.

Four years. 

You didn’t remember the last four years of your life.

-to be continued… 

Taglist: @hzdhrtss @irisk12

[my-wildflwr]

i am a true believer in the whole the less you look for something the easier it will come to you cause theres just no way that i’ve gotten some very rare merch thrift shopping/as a gift/on a random place

[hemi-demi-semiquaver]

had the best bombest mind boggling donut today in shimokitazawa and the area was full of hipster ass cafes etc so i thot it wouldve been ass but we went in bc.nvm anyway it was a CHICKEN AND BASIL donut and lawd haf mercy that guy put he whole pussy into it even saw him use a BLOW TORCH on that shit he fuck that up nice. had it with a ginger ale

THEN he gave us each a free donut. he was talking fast so i dont understand why maybe they were closing soon iono. the chicken n basil had basil baked into the donut n some sort of green basil butter type shit with slices of chicken n melted cheese hence the torch .....made me see god

[chaos0pikachu]

word of honor is a comfort show specifically for scenes like when Cheng Ling the accidently adopted child of two mass murderers gets kidnapped by Soft Butch Assassin and her girlfriend High Femme Assassin for a piece of the glazed donut when Zhou Zi Shu shows up like "UNHAND MY CHILD!!" And CL is all "omg I'm your son 🥺🥺" and ZZS is like "I suddenly can't read I don't know mariah carey.gif" meanwhile our lesbian assassins are like "god people have no respect for torture time anymore" and they all have a swirly twirly fight b/c everyone is dressed to the NINES b/c if you're gonna be a murderer in a wuxia show you are also gonna look PEAK FABULOUS thank you very fucking much and then ZZS is like "oh no my nipple nails of cancer are acting up" and whenever his nipples are aching who shows up but Wen Ke Xing busting through the door like the koolaid man with the energy of a queen lip syncing for her life on Rupaul all "HOW DARE YOU HARM MY HUSBAND AND OUR CHILD" and ZZS is like "he's not our child!!" and another swirly twirly fight happens and the lesbians dip so our marital arts family chases them outside only to be confronted by ZOMBIES or crackheads whichever and WKX is like "husband, take our child and run" and ZZS is obviously not gonna do that cause like both a feral cat & a millennial he's always Down to Fight and also lacks general self-preservation so WKX is like "dying alongside you is also a beautiful way to die" meanwhile CL in the back wondering if they could all just not die like he didn't stick a piece of the glazed donut in his stomach and hang out with his boring, beige, busted uncles for 2 weeks just get eaten train to busan style the fuck

and then Scorpion King (not the rock) floats down from the sky in slow mo like a Jrock act floating down onto the stage playing his little guitar like "HELLOOOOOOOO ANCIENT CHINA!! HOW WE FEELING TONIGHT?" and ZZS is like "not a fucking band kid" so he throws smoke bombs naruto style and they all dip

and in the end of all~~~ of this CL is like "so I'm your son right?" and ZZS is like, "fuck it, fine" and signs the adoption papers while wwx is like planning an autumn wedding

[thatonefishfriend]

hello my dear king enthusiast

share some king hcs? or just any hcs in general

Okay I have a few, though I'm probably gonna make that a separate post! But here's one hc that I like the most:

So King is awkward at first when he gets roped into getting along with Purple's friends. (Because Purple wanted him to and who could say no to that face.)

But, once King gets more comfortable hanging around the CG, He starts calling each and every one of them their own unique nicknames. And it's one of those Dad nicks where he calls you "Squirt" or "Pipsqueak".

Purple - "Purple Nurple", "Hummingbird", "Purple Plum", "Small fry", "Little Bird", "Stinker", Etc.

TSC - "Hoop", "Donut Kid", "Picasso"

Red - "Furball", "Tiger", "Fists", "Karate-Kid"

Yellow - "Glasses", "Sparks", "Sherlock"

Blue - "Smurf", "Blue's Clues", "Treehugger"

Green - "Hotshot", "Fisher", "Grasshopper"

The Group as a whole: "Skittle Squad", "Power rangers", "Highschool Boy Band"

Everytime this happens and he calls for one of them, it's like a guessing game every time a new nickname is introduced.

And then they make fun of whoever got it.

His list is ever growing.