man pantry

Ghost!Yoongi (BTS Suga Scenario)

A/N: So there’s a bit of a backstory here so buckle up, cupcakes. Red sent me this one (really awesome) tumblr post by user @ellienthealien and the conversation resulted in me messaging them and asking for permission to turn their post into a full length scenario, which they graciously said they were cool wit it. Thus this project was born. It was loads of fun to write because I giggled like a maniac every time I reread the original post (which can be found here). So credit goes to ellienthealien (I hope you like it and that it does your post justice!!!)  for coming up with the brilliant original post and thank you so much for letting me turn it into a scenario! I hope y’all enjoy it!!!! ~ Admin Silver

Genre: Comedy, Fluff

Word Count: 5,460 (that’s counting the bullet points)

Summary: "Fuck Ghost!Yoongi” 

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Title: Peace I Leave With You, 1/?

Fandom: OUAT

Rating: T (M in later chapters)

Word Count: ~4,100

Summary: When Emma needs a friend in Storybrooke, she finds one in the sinfully attractive priest Killian Jones. AU starting in season 1.

Notes: Some people on my dash got the idea of priest-Killian stuck in my head a few weeks ago, and I couldn’t let it go. This is going to be a longer multi-chapter, though I have no idea how many yet. There will be smut in later chapters. This story directly follows canon, so when I skip periods of time you can just mentally fill in canon as it happened in the show.

Or read on Ao3



“Twenty-eight years?” Hook asks, his anger flaring red. “I didn’t sign up for this to wait another bloody quarter century.”

He sees the shift in Cora’s eyes—he knows he’s said the wrong thing before she even speaks. “Very well, then, you won’t have to.”

He starts toward her. “Cora, wait—”

With a flick of her wrist he feels himself flying through the air, slamming through the magical shield she’s created, and landing hard on the ground. He gasps in pain and looks up at the cloud of purple smoke billowing toward him.

“No. No!” He rises and turns back to the magical shield, pounding his fist and hook against it, but it will not yield.

Then the smoke is on him.

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sunshineandtigers  asked:

Hi! Do you have any fics of food critic Stiles and any more chef Derek? Thank you :)

i couldn’t find any food critic stiles but i have this food critic derek one??

Ovens Are Not Murder Machines by Farscapegeek (1/1 | 5,786 | PG13)

In which Derek is a grumpy food critic that just wants to go run his co-op in peace. On a forced leave from work he mets the captivating coffee shop owner Stiles who makes him actually want to write again.

“Oh for the love of god can we please order?” Boyd interrupts. Derek blushes at that and realizes he had completely forgot about his beta next to him.

“Sorry. Um your sumatran please. And he squints at the name of a pastry. “Are those donuts? Paczki?” He asks surely slaughtering the pronunciation.

“Close enough. Paczki, polish donuts,” says Stiles rocking back and forth on his heels. “We have an Oregon huckleberry filling if you want to try one? I’m fresh out of the kale tarts with carrot remoulade, but I can try and hold one for you next time. I mean hopefully there will be a next time. If you like my stuff that is.”

and here’s some more chef derek for you :)

Lucky Thirteen by Inell (1/1 | 4,500 | PG13)

Stiles isn’t expecting his thirteenth blind date to be so out of his league, but he can’t complain when Derek Hale turns out to be a gorgeous geek who could be the perfect man for him.

The Pantry Trespasser by mikkimouse (1/1 | 5,383 | PG13)

Stiles gaped. He thought he could be forgiven; nobody should be forced to confront such hotness before their first cup of coffee.

Pantry God finally seemed to realize he wasn’t alone, and looked over to Stiles, pale eyes widening behind his glasses. “Can I help you?”

The words jerked Stiles out of his stupor, reminding him that Pantry God was actually Pantry Trespasser. “Who are you and what the hell are you doing in my pantry?”

The Line Between Love And Hate Is Thin by charlesdk (1/1 | 8,850 | PG13)

It’s only after the ship has sailed that Derek finds out he has to share a kitchen with the man he claims to hate. For 3 months.

His Little Bird

Chapter 4 // Chapter 3 // Chapter 2 // Chapter 1

Ivan jolted awake, gasping for breath. His skin felt clammy and slick with sweat. The blood and blue tinted lips from his dreams flashed before his eyes, reminding him of the past he never hoped to relive. His hand quickly touched his neck, finding that his scarf had fallen off in his sleep, yet the white bandages he had secured around his neck remained. Ivan blinked back the tears in his eyes and took in a raged breath to calm his nerves. In the dark, Ivan’s arm squeezed Alfred around the waist in search for comfort. The younger nation lay nestled in his arms, his back pressed against Ivan’s chest. Alfred felt incredibly small in Ivan’s arms.

Ivan trembled and pulled Alfred closer to himself. He pressed his nose and cheek into the crook Alfred’s neck, leaching the warmth he provided. A pair of wide eyes watched Ivan from the foot of the bed and added another level of uneasiness to Ivan’s frayed nerves. The cat the eyes belonged to softly mewed in irritation and curled back up at Ivan’s feet.

“Babe,” Alfred mumbled, half asleep. Ivan’s breath ghosting over his shoulder had woken him somewhat. The trembling arm around his waist quickly told him something was very wrong. Alfred rolled over and turned to face Ivan in the dark, “Are you alright, big guy?”

Ivan didn’t speak. Between his ragged breaths and the fast beating of his heart, Ivan was sure he wouldn’t be able to manage more than a pathetic whimper. Alfred’s eyes had adjusted to the dark, allowing him to see the wet sheen in Ivan’s eyes. “Aw, babe,” Alfred sighed and cupped Ivan’s cheek. He wiped away the tears and lightly kissed Ivan on the bridge on his nose. “What happened?”

“…N-Nothing,” Ivan whispered, still unsure about using his voice.

Unfortunately for Ivan, Alfred saw through his lies fairly quickly. He frowned and hugged Ivan around his side, similarly to how Ivan was holding him. “You had a bad dream again, huh?” Alfred knew Ivan often had nightmares, coupled with severe bouts of insomnia. Often times when Ivan finally managed to fall asleep, he’d be jarred back into the waking world by the horrors of his past. Alfred should have learned long ago not to ask what Ivan had dreamed about, but he hadn’t and he continued to ask every time.

“What was your dream about?” Alfred’s question was left unanswered as Ivan sighed heavily and turned away from Alfred and holding his arms close to himself.

“Babe,” Alfred pushed and rubbed Ivan’s arm, “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing… Leave me alone,” Ivan mumbled.

“What did I say?” Alfred sleepily wined, his voice becoming small and taking on a more concerned tone. Ivan quickly regretted his words. He could imagine Alfred’s hurt eyes, his tentative touch, and his quivering lip. Although he couldn’t see Alfred, he was sure that was what he would fine if he turned to look. His chest hurt as the panic built up. If Alfred was feeling poorly, it could only be his fault. “You’re too good for me,” The forlorn words slipped past Ivan’s lips before he could stop himself.

Alfred had never been good at reading the atmosphere and being tired and confused in the middle of the night, left Alfred with even less sense than he usually had. He sleepily smiled and hugged Ivan closer to himself in a tight embrace. “Aw, you’re too sweet, big guy,” Alfred chuckled, taking Ivan’s quiet comment as a compliment, “You’re the best thing that ever happened to me,” Alfred sleepily held Ivan close to him and fell asleep pressed close to Ivan’s back.

Alfred and Samuel remained asleep for the rest of the night, while Ivan silently stared at the chip in the wall paper, too scared to close his eyes and watch his hands be painted red with Alfred’s blood in his dreams once more.

Dawn came and went. Ivan pretended to sleep as Alfred woke up beside him to the sounds of Samuel meowing in their ears. Alfred yawned and scratched the offending feline behind the ears. “You’re just as bad as the fluff ball back at my place,”

At the mention of Alfred’s cat, Samuel’s ears perked up. He hopped of the bed onto the hardwood flooring, meowed, and left the room, expecting Alfred to follow. Ivan felt the bed dip and spring back up as Alfred left the warmth of the quilts and followed the cat to the kitchen.

Ivan sighed rolled over onto his back. Alfred’s hold on him for the majority of the night left Ivan unable to pull his scarf back on. He sat up and found his scarf buried underneath one of their many pillows. He wrapped the scarf back around his neck and pulled his legs out from underneath the quilts. Ivan sat at the edge of his bed feeling fatigued. He was sure a migraine was soon to come. In the silence, he continued to think about Alfred and what had happened the night before.

The images that had plagued him in his sleep were slowly fading. However, Alfred’s horrified expression and the smell of blood remained. Ivan assured himself that it wasn’t real. Although he remembered a similar scenario during the Cold War, he knew now that Alfred was perfectly fine, healthy, and in good spirits as he searched for something to eat in the kitchen. Alfred had reacted oddly to Ivan’s confession. He most likely hadn’t understood, but Ivan wasn’t complaining. The less Alfred knew about how he was feeling the better.

Eventually, Ivan realized he would have to get up sooner or later, so he stood and left his room. Alfred greeted him when he entered the kitchen, pots and pans laid out so that Alfred could cook breakfast. Samuel purred as he ate out of his oddly decorated food bowl.

“Morning!” Alfred chirped and left the refrigerator in favor of the pantries. “How are you feeling?”

Alfred’s reference to the night before made Ivan tense. Ivan carefully though about his response before quietly saying, “I feel okay,”

“That’s good,” Alfred said, still searching for something for breakfast, “I was pretty worried about you,”

Ivan bit his tongue to stop himself from telling Alfred he shouldn’t worry about him. Ivan’s life had always been abnormally difficult. It wasn’t anything new. If anything, Ivan should worry about Alfred. He was so young; so much younger than Ivan. Ivan was pathetic. Alfred didn’t deserve to be with a person like Ivan. He deserved someone who didn’t fake their smiles, who didn’t anger so easily, who understood the ways of other people, and didn’t scare away those who cared about him. Ivan had witnessed many times when Alfred had attempted to invite someone to lunch with them after meetings and after one glance in Ivan’s direction they would politely and fearfully decline. Alfred’s life was hindered because of him and Ivan couldn’t stand it.

Ivan steeled his nerves. He clenched his hands into fists at his side and took in a deep breath. It was now or never. He couldn’t hold Alfred back anymore. He loved Alfred too much to let him waste his time on him. He desperately didn’t want to let his beloved sunflower go, but he knew he had to sacrifice his own feelings for Alfred’s, no matter what. Ending the relationship before it got any worse seemed like the only option to keep Alfred from getting hurt. “Sunflower, I need to-,” Ivan began quietly.

“Aw, are you serious?!”

Ivan gasped nearly inaudibly and took a step back in surprise. Alfred huffed and closed the pantry door. “Man, we have nothing in this big old house!”

Ivan had learned that Alfred’s definition of nothing was a little different than his own definition of nothing. In fact, they most likely had many things in the house that were fit to eat, but they were probably things Alfred wasn’t particularly eager to have for breakfast or at all. Ivan felt bad that he didn’t have anything in the manor that Alfred would want to eat. He should have taken his visit into account when Alfred told him he was coming over and bought more food that he would have eaten. “I… I am sorry, my sunflower,” Ivan said and nibbled on his bottom lip. If Alfred was upset, it wasn’t a good time to bring up breaking off their relationship. He wanted this to go as smoothly as possible.

“Whatever,” Alfred laughed and stepped away from the pantry door. Ivan was puzzled. So, Alfred wasn’t upset?

“I was going to make us some omelets, but we don’t have any eggs. So, then I was going to make us some pancakes, like Mattie makes, but there’s stuff for pancake mix either!

“Oh… No, no, you do not have to make me anything,” Ivan stumbled over his words, “You-You are guest, da?”

“Aw, don’t be like that,” Alfred teased and laughed, “I want to. Hey, since we don’t have anything, I can go pick something up. Oh, or I could just go to the store if you want something specific. I’m craving bacon and eggs, myself! What were you going to say by the way?” Alfred blinked at Ivan curiously, his smile still intact and incredibly inviting. Ivan loved that smile, but it certainly was rather selfish of him to want to see that smile every day.

“Ah, well, I…” Ivan cleared his throat and chose to lie, “I just remembered I needed to… pick up something from the store,”

Alfred perked up, “What was it? I can pick it up while I’m out?”

“No, No,” Ivan said, quickly regretting his choice to lie. Alfred shouldn’t have to go out of his way for him, especially for a lie. “I-I can do it,”

“Dude, I’m going out anyway,” Alfred smiled and shook his head at Ivan’s behavior, “What was it you needed?”

“I… forget,” Ivan mumbled.

“Okay, well, I’m going to take a shower,” Alfred came closer and kissed Ivan on his cheek, “and then I’m heading out. Let me know if you remember and I’ll pick it up for you,” Alfred left the kitchen in a good mood, humming with a skip in his step. Ivan groaned and buried his face in his hands. He felt so ashamed. Alfred was in such a good mood and he was only making this harder for the both of them by not saying he needed to let him go. He felt sick and confused. Nothing had ever gone Ivan’s way and it seemed like this would be no different.

Tiny claws dug into Ivan’s pant leg as Samuel made an attempt to earn Ivan’s attention. Looking down, Ivan found the overweight cat begging for more food. Ivan sighed and looked for the half empty can of wet cat food Alfred had given Samuel. Ivan dumped the rest into Samuel’s food bowl and watched as he ate and purred contently. Samuel had been with them for only a few days and Alfred continued to prattle on about how much he looked and acted like Ivan. Alfred seemed to think that was a good thing.

Ivan sighed through his nose and kneeled down to pet the cat. As he ran his hand over Samuel’s back and scratched the scruff of his neck, Ivan talked to him. “He says you look like me… and you act like me… Are you a good cat or a rotten one? I can’t tell…” Ivan frowned, “Alfred likes you. Does he like you more than me? Perhaps, he’d rather just have you?”

The cat didn’t respond, of course. He simply ate and paid Ivan no mind. Ivan eventually accepted this and sat down at the small kitchen table that had been placed there when the large dining hall became too much to bare when most dinners were spent alone in silence.

“Hey, Ivan!” Alfred called down as he descended the stairs and entered the kitchen, fussing with his hair as he walked.

Ivan sat up straighter, surprised Alfred was back so soon. He had fallen into a trance, quietly staring at the cuts and lines in the table and following them with his eyes. He hadn’t even noticed how long he had been sitting there. “You’re done your shower?”

“Yep!” Alfred chirped, “Did you remember what you needed?”

“Uh…” Ivan felt his heart begin to pound. He hadn’t thought of anything, “O-Orange juice!”

“Oh, you’re right! We’re out of that too!” Alfred leaned over and kissed Ivan on the corner of his mouth. Ivan lightly returned it.

“Alright, I’m heading out! Be back in a bit!” Alfred went on his way, pulled on his coat at the front door, and left. Ivan listened closely and heard his car pulled away from their slightly snowy driveway and make its way down the road into town.

Ivan leaned over the table and buried his face in his arms. He had to do something. He couldn’t lie to Alfred. After a long while, Ivan sat up, wiping away tears he hadn’t originally realized were there. In a way, Ivan knew he needed to speak with someone about this. He needed someone to speak to about leaving Alfred, but he was too terrified of Alfred’s reaction to even consider him as an option. Ivan had the phone in his hand and was dialing the first number he could think of, before his nerves could get the best of him.

“Hello?” Francis’s voice on the other side of the line sounded taken aback and tentative, “You called me, Russia? Not that getting a call from you it bad, mon ami,”

“No, no, I called because…” Ivan stopped himself. Did he really want to do this? He would be bringing another person into his unfortunate situation. Why would Francis even think twice about helping him with his relationships? In the past, Francis had helped him when his questions had been anonymous over Francis’s old radio broadcasts, but now, on the phone, which was most likely in the early morning for him, Francis might not spare him a second glance. “I need to ask you for some advice, Francis,” Ivan’s eventually choked out.

The use of his name, rather than the name of his nation, made Francis pause and bring himself into a more personal mode. “What sort of advice, Ivan?”

“It is… about Alfred and me,” Ivan tugged at his scarf. He suddenly felt like he was being suffocated.

“Romantically?” Francis asked.

“Yes,” Ivan whispered, feeling more and more like his heart was about to leap from his chest.

“You’ve hit a rough patch, haven’t you?” Francis said in an understanding way. Ivan felt as though he could have sighed in relief that he didn’t have to say it himself.

“Yes… We… We have…” Ivan took a deep breath, “and I believe it is my fault,”

“I expected as much. Since that Cold War of yours, I have always worried about you two. Have you talked to Alfred about this?” Francis asked, genuinely concerned with the state of his former son’s and old friend’s relationship. “Is mon petit mad with you? What is he saying? How are you feeling?”

“N-No,” Ivan admitted, “I cannot speak with him about this. I feel horribly about many things and I… I cannot burden him with it,”

“Ivan, non,” Francis said, “A healthy relationship is built on trust and understanding. You must talk to Alfred about how you feel. You can’t keep secrets from him like this, especially if they are upsetting you so much. This will only make things unhealthy and hard on the both of you,”

“Unhealthy?” Ivan asked tentatively, “Would you… consider it unhealthy now?”

Francis thought for a moment, “…Only if you mean what you told me; that you are not telling Alfred about anything you have been feeling for a long while. Communication is key in any relationship. You must tell Alfred everything if you want to attempt to improve your relationship,”

“I see,” Ivan said quietly.

“Is that all you needed?” Francis asked tentatively.

“Yes… That… That was all,” Ivan forced a smile even though he knew Francis couldn’t see it, “Thank you for helping,”

“I’m glad I could help,” Francis lightly chuckled, “Now I must go. Call me again if you have any questions. Communication is key. Don’t forget,”

Ivan hung up the phone before Francis could say goodbye. The smile dropped into a deep frown. He was supposed to tell Alfred everything and he hadn’t. He hadn’t established a healthy relationship from the beginning. Ivan gripped the phone a little tighter in his hand. The tone droned and his fingers squeezed the buttons by mistake. He hadn’t been good for Alfred. He never had been. Ivan wasn’t good for Alfred and now it was too late to fix things. How could he salvage something had already ruined from the start? He truly didn’t deserve Alfred. He was too good for him and meant too much to him. Ivan set the phone down once he realized a small crack had begun to form under his fingertips.

“I am so sorry, my sunflower,” Ivan whispered into the silence and left the kitchen in favor of his old and stiff recliner in the living room. He let the morning news drown out his thoughts. Perhaps he could numb himself enough to stop himself from feeling so sick.

Samuel meowed at the door to the back yard. The longer he was ignored, the more he meowed and scrapped his claws against the wood to reach the doorknob. Ivan continued to ignore him as he had for the past ten minutes. Eventually the earsplitting yowling was too much to ignore. Ivan sighed and begrudgingly opened the door to allow Samuel outside. The cat jumped at the chance to get outside and pranced through the melting snow, before jumping at the little sunrays that reflected off the white landscape. Ivan believed there was one thing he and this cat certainly didn’t have in common. Ivan did not like to play in the snow alone.


Time Machine Video of the Week

The Smiths - This Charming Man (1983)

The Smiths were an English indie rock band from Manchester. The band consisted of vocalist Morrissey, guitarist Johnny Marr, bassist Andy Rourke and drummer Mike Joyce. This Charming Man was the bands second single, released on 31st October 1983. 

Punctured bicycle
on a hillside desolate
will Nature make a man of me yet?

When in this charming car
this charming man

Why pamper life’s complexities
when the leather runs smooth on the passenger seat?

I would go out tonight
but I haven’t got a stitch to wear
this man said “It’s gruesome
that someone so handsome should care”

A jumped-up pantry boy
who never knew his place
he said “return the rings”
he knows so much about these things
he knows so much about these things

I would go out tonight
but I haven’t got a stitch to wear
this man said “It’s gruesome
that someone so handsome should care”

This charming man
this charming man

A jumped-up pantry boy
who never knew his place
he said “return the ring”
he knows so much about these things
he knows so much about these things
he knows so much about these things

Below is a live version @ Manchester’s Hacienda Club, Nov 24th, 1983