sizzling stone

Chicken: Part 1

Warnings: None… yet…

Pairings: Bucky x Reader

A/N: Okay here’s part 1! Yay! It’s just two parts but I hope y’all like it! And if you have any requests feel free to message me bc this writer’s block is killing me.♥️♥️

Originally posted by ajl-bae

It was hot. Really hot. You stepped out from the shade of the changing rooms and took a deep breath. It was now or never.

With a determined nod, you grabbed your book and lemonade, sprinting across the sizzling stone walkway. With each step, the ground burnt your feet and you mentally scolded yourself for forgetting to pack flip flops.

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8/13/12 (Day 225): 

I FINALLY went to this restaurant called Sizzling Stone that I’ve had my eye on for about a year. And it was SO GOOD—-

It’s a Korean restaurant that’s decorated almost exactly like Chipotle. Heck, their menu is even like Chipotle; their specialty is their DIY 비빔밥, which can be made in hot/cold/burrito-ish form. You pretty much start with the rice and move down the trays of vegetables and tell the servers what you want/don’t want, and then they sizzle it up for ya. 냠냠냠냠 

You can add teriyaki/gochujang/thai curry sauce to your liking after you pay, which was good for my sister who can’t take spicy food :p

But my lunch was a $4 bowl of 김치 순두부 ♥ $4! Who even does that these days?? 

Ahhh. Definitely coming back again soon. ♥


For the fantastically talented and wonderful thelunaaltar​. She requested a role reversal where Abbie is our Witness from the past and Crane is our modern cop. I hope you enjoy, sweetheart. 

“Your fate is in the waiting.”

“But I don’t like waiting.”Abbie wriggled as Auntie Grace worked the comb through her hair. She didn’t even like waiting for this to be done; how could she wait for whatever destiny wanted from her?

“I know, child. And that is why you were called. Our Chosen can’t be somebody content to wait. But you’ll make do.”

No one could ever quite tell her what it meant, that she would wait. But everybody agreed that fate was carved into her palm, sprinkled across her stars, read in entrails again and again. But in the meantime, no moss grew under Abbie Mills’ feet.

She sat at her auntie’s knee and learned the magic of herbs and stones and forbidden letters she should not know. She trained with her sister in abandoned barns, far away from worrying white eyes, and together they learned to throw punches without hurting their hands; how to load and fire old smooth-bore muskets they should not own; how to stab and cut with sword and knife.

When the drumbeat of war came, she marched to battle with shorn hair and bound breasts. She cared nothing for red or blue, and donned each coat as her needs required. The affairs of men were not her concern. Certainly these men held no regard for her, except to keep her silent and subservient. But among them walked her true enemy, and so she made use of them.

She traveled far and wide and saw the enormity of the ocean, the wonders of Philadelphia and Boston. She fought demons and men crueler than any of hell’s minions. But then the war swept north and booted feet trampled the wheaten fields of Sleepy Hollow and she came home.

And there, while facing the Hessian she had tracked for weeks and months, she was struck down. But not before she completed her mission. Then it was all blurred faces and chanting voices, all pain and blood but never fear. Jenny’s was the last face she saw, in the end.

They planted her in the ground, a seed waiting for her spring. The wheel of years turned and turned and still she slept, germinating in the cool earth.

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