in a drunken stupor

Okay, but guys, Victor had those pictures of Yuri lying around on his phone for like a year. A year. Long before he and Yuri even developed the close relationship that they have right now. So please just take a moment to picture:

  • Victor getting bored or frustrated or upset and going back to those pictures because they always bring a smile to his face 
  • Victor rewatching the videos of drunken Yuri on a regular basis because he finds that he quite likes the sound of his voice, however slurred and nonsensical
  • Victor lurking on Yuri’s social media (!!!)  
  • Victor googling Yuri 
  • Victor memorizing and recording Yuri’s stats and knowing a shit ton of random fucking facts about his life before he even meets him 
  • Victor being a Yuri fanboy in general  
  • Victor very slowly realizing he’s completely fucking smitten by this man he danced with and grinded on while in a hazy drunken stupor  
  • And god damn it, he absolutely HAS to see him again  
  • Victor seeing the video of Yuri doing his routine and his heart beats clean out of his chest because that’s it–that’s fuckin it, his chance
  • And he takes it 
  • It’s the best decision he’s ever made 
love to lay

genre: smut, angst
pairing: jungkook x reader
words: 3.4k
warnings: explicit sexual content
summary: the love you had with him was passionate, spiteful, and messy. emphasis on the messy. two months after what seemed like your last breakup, jungkook shows up to remind you of something.

a/n: this isn’t my first time writing smut by any means, but it’s definitely one of the dirtiest to date. hooray for the first smutty scenario on this blog! now, excuse me while i go douse myself with holy water.

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College Confession #83

On a pub crawl, between pubs, we came across this karate type class that had glass windows and the door was open. My mate in his drunken stupor thought it would be a good idea to run in screaming.

As he did, a man in the class ran across the room and did some Jackie Chan fly kick into his shoulder and they both hit the ground with a huge thud. Meanwhile about 7 of us outside were in pure disbelief in what just went down and didn’t know how to react. It was like something out of a movie. He managed to scramble back out the door and we all ran off laughing so damn hard.

- Florida State University

My own silly headcanon with the headcanon going around that Hanzo got cake for him and McCree.

Imagine in his drunken stupor he didn’t quite recognize Hanzo’s new look. So he’d mumble “Sorry. mm taken.”

Hanzo: Oh? Must have been a lucky man

McCree: Handsome sonnuvabitch.

So they’d sit together because Hanzo is having too much fun with this.

who cares | 10 (m)

• pairing: kim taehyung x oc / kim seokjin x oc
• genre/warnings: angst, adultery, mature themes
• words: 5,368
→ summary: what happens when Taehyung falls for someone who’s already taken? Can he control his feelings or will they take over and render him powerless? In the end is it all her fault or his…?
• note. inspired by Dean’s album 130: trbl.

» playlist | 01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 | 06 | 07 | 08 | 0910 |

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OTP waking up super hungover and messy from last night’s drunken, sex-fueled stupor, Person B goes out and gets coffee for themselves and Person A, and finds them still asleep upon return. They kiss Person A awake, leading to groggy, hungover morning love (after which they both pass out on the bed again and sleep until late in the afternoon).

Remember me

Remember me not for my skin and bones,
Remember me not for the sins I have yet to atone.
Remember me not for what I couldn’t become,
Remember me not for when I had come undone.
Remember me not for my heart of stone,
Remember me not for when I left you alone.
Remember me not for my drunken stupors,
Remember me not for my apologies that couldn’t come sooner.
Remember me not for the tears in your eyes,
Remember me not for when I didn’t empathise.
Remember me not for the painful goodbye,
Remember me not for the time when I couldn’t hold you nigh.
Remember me not for my regret and shame,
Remember me not for myself that I couldn’t tame.
Remember me not for your promises that I couldn’t abide, but remember me from the night for you when I died.

© Aniket More


Here’s to you guys.

But on a lighter note, I’ve reached a point of clarity in my drunken stupor.
Regardless of who wins this election, this doesn’t define all of us and what we still stand for. There are still good people here. For everyone who voted red there are almost as many that voted blue. More that would have if circumstances were different. There are gonna be more elections. Life will go on. Everyone with regrets this year can fix it with state elections in 2018. In 2020 we can do the right thing. We can elect better candidates.
If anything, don’t let this faze you just out of pure unadulterated spite. Give ‘em the finger by not letting this bullcrap get you down because you deserve more. Stay safe, but stay woke.

On that note, let’s destroy this massive pile of alcohol and drown it all out for a while and not give the slightest crap in the world.


Summary: The moment when Jughead can’t take his dad’s drunken stupors anymore and decides to leave.

The slam of the door.

The whoosh of the fridge door opening.

The telltale clink of the bottle cap being removed.

Jughead knew these sounds all too well, and didn’t even bother checking to confirm his suspicions.


“Your old man’s had a rough day, Jug. I need this.”

Jughead ignored his internal dread as he watched his father plonk down in front of the box television, drowning out his troubles one swig at a time.

While he understood why his dad sought out alcohol every night, once the lights had been dimmed and curtains shut; he didn’t agree with his method of coping.

Jughead’s eyes followed his father as the older man got up and limped to the fridge, opening it and grabbing another beer.

He bit his lip, contemplating whether to bring this second one up, and let his gaze meet FP Jones’s, as he limped back to the chair in front of the TV.

He must’ve already had something before coming home; his eyes were unfocused and red.

“Um, how was your day, Jug?” His father mumbled.

Jughead looked back down at the macbook in his lap. The cursor of the next chapter in his book blinked before him, like it was uncertain; it mirrored Jughead’s thoughts.

“Fine, dad. I got an A+ on an English essay.” He said, his eyes following the upward motion of the brown bottle as FP Jones took another sip.

“Good, good.” The older man turned his attention to the TV set in front of him, slouching downwards, swiveling the chair from side to side.

The next few minutes passed in silence. Jughead tried to focus on his writing, but continued to keep an eye on his dad.

In all honesty, he was afraid. FP Jones had gotten drunk the last night, and the one before that, and countless times before. His mom wasn’t here to chastise him (not like it helped anyway) and Jellybean wasn’t here to let her innocent gaze guilt their father into putting that dreaded liquor down.

He let his mind wander to three weeks ago- the day his mom had decided she’d had enough, packed up her suitcases, made Jellybean do so too, and stormed off to her parent’s house. Jughead was meant to go with them, but some part of him forced him to stay and look after his dad.

It wasn’t like he was succeeding, anyway.

His thoughts were interrupted when his dad stood up once again, albeit unsteadily, lopsidedly stalking to the fridge.

Jughead set his laptop aside and stood up. “Hey dad, it’s late.”

“Then go to sleep, Jug.”

“Dad, I mean-”

“Goodnight, Jug.”

Jughead walked forward and grabbed the bottle in his dad’s shaky palms. “Dad, that’s enough, please-”

“What are you gonna do, huh? Jug? You don’t understand. Go to your room.”

“Dad, please, stop-”

Jughead’s dad took a step forward. Jughead took one back, skin paling.

“Listen, Jug. You love me, yeah?”

Jughead pursed his lips and nodded.

“Then go and sleep.”

“Dad, I can’t, if you keep downing one beer after another.”

FP Jones placed a threatening palm on his son’s chest.

“You don’t know what it’s like. Your wife hasn’t left you. You haven’t lost your job. You haven’t been forced to do ungodly things just for some cash, just so I can sustain you. You didn’t have to give up half your savings for hospital bills. You didn’t-”

He broke down, putting his head in his trembling hands.

Jughead’s heart broke, unused to seeing his father so fragile and open. He took a step forward, reaching out to comfort his dad, but stopped midway when his dad shot up and flipped a table over.

Jughead’s eyes widened in fear. “Dad, stop-”

Forsythe Pendleton Jones the Second paid no heed to his son, dragging his hand across the small kitchen’s counter, sending condiments, empty beer bottles and papers to the floor. He slammed the cabinet doors, his scream of frustration mingling with its noise.

Jughead moved in front of his dad, throwing caution to the wind.

“STOP!” He yelled, wincing when his dad’s hand came down and struck him on the cheek.

Everything stilled. Time froze. Both men stared at each other, one with surprised wide eyes and the other with bloodshot ones.

Yes, Jughead had watched his dad fall into a multitude of drunken stupors, but not once did his dad ever raise his hand against him. Not even when the whole family lived under the same roof.

But now, things had obviously changed. An alarm blared inside Jughead’s mind, telling him to leave immediately, before it gets worse.

Jughead stepped away, arms in front of him, incase the stockier man decided to take things further.

The latter was the the first to break the silence. “Jughead, I didn’t mean that-”

“I know you didn’t, dad.” Jughead’s voice came out soft and broken. He stepped away and gathered whatever belongings he could see.

“Jughead, I’m sorry, please stay…”

Jughead looked up at his dad. The man was strong, years of working at a construction site had ensured that, and Jughead’s cheekbone ached. Hopefully, a bruise wouldn’t form.

“I need to get away for a while, dad. Only temporarily.”

“No, Juggie, don’t-”

“Temporarily, dad.” Jughead said, not meeting his eyes. He didn’t know if the words coming out of his mouth were true. “I’ll call you.” That included. His dad clamoured after him, begging him to stay, but Jughead couldn’t bring himself to give in.

After ensuring that he took some spare clothes and the bare necessities, he opened the door of their less-than-adequate trailer and spared a look back at his dad.

“I’m sorry, dad.”

And then he shut the door behind him.

Little did he know that it would be the start of the worst period of his life till date- misery and loneliness awaited him, but Jughead remained oblivious as he walked away from the pleas of his father, gritting his teeth and planning his next course of action.

Lallybroch, Scotland: November 1744 - February 1745.

The channel crossing had been uneventful to say the least. Jamie spent the entire voyage passed-out on his bunk in a self-induced, drunken stupor, while Julia found the rhythmic swaying of the ship delightful and promptly fell asleep too. The over-land journey to Lallybroch with a colicky three-month old, however, left something to be desired. 

We were welcomed at the gate by Jenny, Ian and assortment of children. I had left thinking I would never return and it felt so wonderful to be wrong. Jamie, Julia, and I settled into something of a routine almost at once. The days turned into weeks without our notice and soon it was the middle of winter. Our master bedroom became a sanctuary, where my fractured soul was finally able to heal.

Ever the mother, Jenny taught me a great many things without speaking a word. She was a regular baby whisperer, teaching me how to handle Julia’s episodes with a grace and calm I didn’t know was possible. Somehow, my usual, unflustered nurse façade evaporated the moment Julia became inconsolable.

This happened often. She seemed to only be happy when held, and then only in a certain manner. Jenny helped me fashion a sort of sling, which enabled me to work with my hands while holding her. I felt rather like a kangaroo, but I wouldn’t have traded those moments for the world.

Jamie, Fergus, and Ian tumbled thru the doorway, a burst of cold air following them into the kitchen. I turned from the potatoes I was mashing just in time to catch Jamie’s frozen hands before they tickled the nape of my neck.

I tried to scowl disapprovingly up at him, but it didn’t work. The mischievous twinkle in his eyes was my undoing and he knew it. Jamie stemmed any response I might have, whether romantic or reproachful, with a thorough kiss. Julia, caught once again in the middle of our embrace, resented being gently squashed by her father and let out a howl that would have made her Viking ancestors proud.

“You’re a sight for sore eyes, Sassenach,” Jamie’s voice burred in my ear.

I swatted his playful hands away from my skirts and gave him a wry smile, “Even when I’m covered in you’re daughter’s snot and spit up?”

He kissed the tip of my nose, “Ye canna look more bonnie than ye do this moment, mo nighen donn, holding our bairn and cooking our supper.”

“Dinna fash, Ian, Claire only did the potatoes. The rest should be edible.” Jenny interjected with a teasing smile. My cooking failures here at Lallybroch were notorious, and even I could find the humor in the jest.

“Careful,” I warned Jamie as he took Julia into his arms. “She’s grumpier than a wet cat today.”

Jamie ticked her neck and was given a warm smile in return. “She canna be talking about you, mo bheag nighean.”

Fergus laughed uproariously at the sudden change in Julia’s attitude. 

I rolled my eyes as he left the kitchen with her, heading up the stairs to change out of his wet sark. She had been teething all week and the little tooth in question was just now beginning to emerge from her gums. I had taken to wearing a rag about my shoulders, as I was constantly wet from Julia’s gifts. Discarding the wet rag onto a nearby bench, I reached again for the bowl of potatoes.

All my love

Title: All my love 

Pairing: Jeon Jungkook/Park Jimin (Jikook/Kookmin)

Word count: 5,000

Genre: Stalker AU, romance


Warnings: Possessive and obsessive behaviour. Smut. Unhealthy relationship. Dark themes. Kidnapping.  

Author’s note: Some Stalker headcanons!! I’m sorry if this one isn’t as well written out and poetic as my previous Murder Husbands AU headcanons and I thought it was pretty good as it was!! Please enjoy!!!!! :D 


It’s love at first sight when Jungkook meets Jimin at some obscure club one night. They bond over a few drinks, whilst Jimin is oblivious to the hungry stare that Jungkook drags over his body. He thinks it’s just lust for the moment, something he’s very accustomed to, but then Jimin tells him a little more about himself, and Jungkook is immediately enraptured. When they go home together in a drunken stupor, Jungkook does his best to memorise Jimin’s face. He does his best to remember the breathy introduction they make between kisses, and he’s adamant on not forgetting the next morning.

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(Requested by leonkassi ) (Based off of this fake text)

You stumbled into your bedroom, almost knocking down a lamp in your drunken stupor. Last time you checked it was around two in the morning and you were ready to lay down and sleep.  

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You're my best friend, now stop trying to hug me to death!

Our feral wild child nature magus had a little too much to drink one night on the ship, and had accidentally started to choke on some basic rations (a wooden stool) he was eating. Our fighter rushed into action.

Fighter: I roll to Heimlich!

DM: roll athletics

*rolls a 1*

DM: You attempt to help him by going up to grapple him, but he, in his drunken stupor, thinks you are trying to attack him. While choking, he is actively fighting you off with little baby slaps.

Eventually, they save the magus. The fighter feels bad, and tries to help him again.

Fighter: Can I just help him into bed and lock the door so he doesn’t get into any more trouble?

DM: Roll for it.

Nat 20

DM: You bring him down to his cabin, clean him off, tuck him in, hand him his stuffed owlbear plushy, read him a story, and put him to sleep. You are now his best friend.


Originally posted by jinkooks

Member: Jungkook (more like memeber ok nvrmd)

Genre: Fluff 

Word count: 4,631

Summary: Insomnia is no match for the soft lullabies of a mystery boy a few apartments away…

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