#'and if not there's always substance abuse'

[gnstay]

To Love Again

Summary: Namgyu joined the deadly Squid Game to pay off debts and win back his ex-fiancée, Y/N, only to find she’s also a participant. Amid the danger, they confront their past, and love again.

Warnings: Substance abuse, stealing & betrayal, emotional conflict, cussing, angst, fluff (?) etc!

Characters: Namgyu x GN! Reader *Y/N*

Now Playing… Motel Whore - Nessa Barrett

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Namgyu, a struggling club promoter buried in debt after years of failed gigs and poor decisions, is desperate to turn his life around. He needs the money, after all—he’d spent most of it on drugs and alcohol. But that wasn’t the only thing on his mind. Even with his financial problems weighing heavily on him, they didn’t compare to how much he thought of you. Namgyu joined the games to win, to return with enough money to provide the comfort and luxuries you both wanted—and so desperately needed. However, he knew it wasn’t going to be easy. After all, you were his ex-fiancée.

When Namgyu was invited to join the Squid Game with the promise of an enormous cash prize, he saw it as his only chance at redemption.

As Namgyu navigated through the brutal games, he was shocked to discover you were also a participant. Driven by your own financial troubles after the engagement was called off, you had found yourself here, just as desperate. Determined to win you back, Namgyu threw himself into dangerous situations to protect you, often clumsily flirting in the midst of life-threatening chaos. Despite your history and the emotional scars from the broken engagement, it soon became clear that you both still loved each other while fighting to survive together.

It was difficult to repress your feelings for Namgyu. You avoided his eyes, his flirting, and any other advances he made. You wanted nothing to do with him at first. He had stolen money from you multiple times before to feed his addiction to drugs and alcohol. The final straw came when you caught him stealing for the third time. You had thought you were marrying a good, caring man, someone who only had eyes for you. Instead, his real love had been drugs.

Sure, during your relationship with Namgyu, you had known about his drug use. You both weren’t perfect, but your relationship wasn’t miserable, and it still wasn’t without its cracks. You had trusted and cared for him so much, even when he tried to push you away. But when you discovered he had stolen from you—not just once, but multiple times—you called off the engagement in hurt and betrayal.

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Three Months Ago:

Y/N: I can’t believe you, Namgyu.

Namgyu: What are you talking about?!

Y/N: Don’t play stupid with me! The money I had in my account—it’s all gone. I can’t believe you stole from me.

Namgyu: What the hell are you talking about?

Y/N: Don’t even begin to lie to me. I already know the truth.

Namgyu: I- I.. was going to return it! I just needed it for a little while.

Y/N: ‘You were going to return it’? That’s your excuse, Namgyu? I know this isn’t the first time you’ve stolen from me, too.

Namgyu: … I needed it for drugs, okay?

Y/N: Are you serious? So your solution was to steal from me? From the person who trusted and loves you the most? I’m your fiancée, for fuck’s sake!

Namgyu: I wasn’t trying to hurt you… It’s just—look, I can fix this—

Y/N: ‘Fix this’? By lying to me and stealing my money? That’s your idea of fixing things?

Namgyu: I messed up, okay? I’m sorry. I’ll do whatever it takes to make it right.

Y/N: Sorry isn’t enough, Namgyu. You’ve broken something between us, and I don’t think it can be fixed.

Namgyu: Please don’t do this… I lo—

Y/N: I’m done, Namgyu. I’ve always supported you, and this is the thanks I get? If you think I’m going to handle any more of your crap, take your ring back.

Namgyu: Baby, please… wait, please—

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Present:

In the end, against all odds, you both survived the games. When the final votes added up to “X,” the players sighed in relief. You sat on your bed, eating your last meal, when Namgyu approached with a nervous chuckle.

Namgyu: You know, this whole ‘life-or-death’ thing really makes you rethink your priorities. I… I’ve been thinking about us.

Y/N: Namgyu, don’t start. This isn’t the time for your romantic speeches.

Namgyu: I’m serious, Y/N. I know I screwed up. I was selfish, irresponsible, and… I took you for granted. But seeing you here, fighting through all this—Y/N, you’re everything I wanted to be but never could. I don’t deserve you, I know that. But I still—

Y/N: Namgyu, stop saying you don’t deserve me. I’m not some perfect saint. I made mistakes, too. I wanted you to succeed so badly I didn’t see how much pressure I put on you. But… I never stopped loving you.

Namgyu: You… never stopped loving me?

Y/N: No, you idiot. I just didn’t know how to deal with the pain when we fell apart. But now… seeing you here, risking everything—risking yourself—I see the man I fell in love with again.

Namgyu: Really? Are you saying there’s still hope for us?

Y/N: We made it out alive, yeah? We’ll figure it out.. together this time.

Namgyu: I promise, Y/N. When we get out of here, I’ll spend the rest of my life making it up to you. No more running away. No more excuses.

Y/N: And no more drugs! But let’s wait a while before getting engaged again. We’ll get through this, Namgyu. Together.

Hand in hand, you left the game arena with a newfound understanding of love and resilience.

Years later, after rebuilding your lives together, Namgyu surprised you with a heartfelt proposal—this time ready to face life’s challenges as a team. You said yes! And your love story became one of hope and love again.

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Note: Hi everyone! This is my first time writing a fanfic like this, and I’m still figuring out how to use Tumblr. I’d love to create a masterlist, but I’m not sure how to do that just yet. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this little story! Feel free to follow me on TikTok for more content. Thank you! ♡︎

TikTok: @gnstay

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Tags:

[elvisbdoll]

“Velvet Chains”

Chapter One

Summary: Velvet Chains follows the intense and dangerous relationship between Camille, a confident and independent woman, and Elvis Presley, a charismatic yet troubled star of the 70s. When Camille enters Elvis’s world, she quickly becomes the object of his obsession. Despite his fame and charm, Elvis’s personality is darkened by mood swings and jealousy, fueled by his reliance on pills. As the two grow closer, Camille finds herself caught in the grip of his possessiveness, torn between her desire for freedom and the undeniable pull of Elvis’s passion.

Pairing: 70s!ElvisXBlack!Oc

Trigger Warnings: Substance Abuse (pills, drugs), Jealousy/Obsessiveness, Emotional Abuse, Manipulative Behavior, Possessiveness, Mood Swings/Anger Issues, Toxic Relationships, Psychological Abuse, Dangerous Obsession, cursing.

Friday, July 11, 1975. Memphis, Tennessee

Camille tugged at the hem of her high-waisted jeans, brushing a few stray threads off her hand-sewn blouse. She stood on the corner of Beale Street, watching the world buzz past her. Memphis in the mid-70s was alive with a gritty charm, a mix of soul, sweat, and dreams. It wasn’t her first choice for a fresh start, but it was hers, and that mattered more than anything.

The humidity hung heavy in the air, clinging to her skin and curling the edges of her natural hair despite the headscarf she’d tied that morning. She didn’t mind. The sticky heat was a reminder that she was alive and carving out her own path. After leaving her small Louisiana town a year ago, Camille had promised herself one thing: she wouldn’t look back.

Her days were simple, predictable. She rose at dawn to the sound of her neighbor’s radio—always set to WDIA, blasting smooth R&B and the occasional gospel track. Her morning ritual was soothing in its routine: brew coffee, nibble on a slice of toast, and take a moment to admire the small patch of sunlight that streamed into her tiny studio apartment. Then it was off to work.

The tailor shop where she worked was tucked between a rundown laundromat and a diner with peeling paint on its windows. Mr. O’Hara, the owner, was an older white man with a cigarette always dangling from his lips. He didn’t say much, but his respect for Camille’s skill was clear. Customers often asked for her by name, praising the delicate stitching of her hems or the way she could make a suit jacket fit like it was meant to be worn.

“You got the hands of an artist,” Mr. O’Hara had said once, and though she didn’t need validation, it had made her chest swell with pride.

Still, there were moments in her quiet days when something inside her itched. It wasn’t loneliness exactly, but a kind of restlessness, like she was waiting for something to happen—though she didn’t know what.

On the other side of Memphis, Elvis Presley sat slumped on the couch in his Graceland living room. The place was immaculate, of course—maids ensured it—but there was a sense of stagnancy about it. The gold and green décor, the garish chandelier, the soundproofed walls—once it had felt like a palace. Now it felt more like a prison.

“Y’know, E, you gotta stop takin’ them pills like candy,” Jerry muttered, leaning against the doorway.

Elvis didn’t even look at him. “Ain’t nobody askin’ for your opinion, Jerry,” he snapped, popping another Quaalude into his mouth and chasing it with a glass of Coke.

Jerry sighed but said nothing else. The Memphis Mafia had learned when to push and when to step back. Lately, the line wasn’t so clear.

Elvis exhaled slowly, leaning back against the couch. The pills dulled the edge, but they didn’t kill it. That gnawing feeling inside him, the one that had been growing louder for years—it was still there. He had everything a man could want. Fame, fortune, fans screaming his name at every show. But it didn’t matter. He’d wake up every morning feeling empty, and he’d go to bed every night wondering how much longer he could keep the facade going.

The pills helped. So did the music. But neither could quiet the loneliness that seeped into his bones.

“Maybe we oughta head out tonight,” Jerry offered cautiously. “Could be good to get outta the house.”

Elvis didn’t respond at first. His mind drifted, back to a time when life was simpler. Before the fame, before the pressure, before the expectations. Back when he was just a poor kid in Tupelo with big dreams and a fire in his soul.

“Yeah,” he said finally, his voice low. “Yeah, let’s get outta here.”

Later that evening, Camille locked up the tailor shop, slipping the key into her purse. The sun had set, but the city was still alive, neon signs flickering in the hazy night. She walked down the street, the sound of music spilling out of the bars and clubs around her.

She wasn’t looking for anything particular—just a place to unwind. She ducked into one of her favorite spots, a small blues club with sticky floors and a crowd that didn’t ask questions. The band on stage was raw and soulful, the kind of music that made your chest ache and your feet move without permission.

At that same moment, a sleek black limo pulled up outside another club across town. Elvis stepped out, his black leather boots hitting the pavement with a dull thud. The streetlights cast shadows across his face, highlighting the sharpness of his jaw, the intensity of his blue eyes.

He wasn’t sure what he was looking for, but he was sure as hell going to find it.

The band struck the opening chords of a slow, smoky blues tune, and Camille leaned back in her seat, letting the music wash over her. She liked places like this—dimly lit, unpretentious, where the air was thick with cigarette smoke and the scent of spilled whiskey. Her scarf had slipped slightly, letting her coiled hair frame her face, and she absentmindedly smoothed the fabric of her bell-sleeved blouse.

Across the room, a pair of piercing blue eyes watched her.

Elvis leaned against the far wall, a drink in hand, his body partially hidden by shadows. He wasn’t trying to blend in—he never really could—but he’d perfected the art of staying just out of reach. He was supposed to be here for the music, but now the band’s rhythm was nothing more than background noise.

His attention was locked on her.

She wasn’t like the women he was used to. She wasn’t dressed to impress anyone, but she had a way about her, a quiet confidence that made her stand out even in this crowded room. Her style was simple but striking—a flowy blouse, high-waisted jeans that hugged her hips just right, and a pair of hoop earrings that caught the light every time she tilted her head.

She wasn’t looking around for attention. She wasn’t giggling with friends or sneaking glances his way. She was just… there, completely unbothered, lost in the music.

And it was driving him crazy.

Elvis took a long sip of his drink, his jaw tightening as he watched her. He felt something dark and possessive coil in his chest. He didn’t know who she was or where she came from, but he already knew one thing: he had to have her.

Camille shifted in her seat, oblivious to the storm brewing across the room. She noticed the man leaning against the wall, but only for a moment. His presence registered briefly—dark hair, sharp features, something familiar about him—but she quickly dismissed it. She wasn’t here for that.

Elvis caught the brief glance, and his lips pressed into a thin line. She hadn’t recognized him. Or maybe she just didn’t care. Either way, it didn’t sit well with him.

“She’s somethin’, huh?” one of his entourage murmured, breaking Elvis’s trance.

“Shut up,” Elvis snapped, his voice low and rough.

He couldn’t focus on anything else for the rest of the night. Even as the band played on, his eyes never left her. When she finally got up to leave, he felt a surge of panic. He wanted to stop her, to say something, anything, but the words caught in his throat.

She disappeared into the night, her silhouette swallowed by the shadows of Beale Street.

——————————————-

Later, back at Graceland, Elvis paced the length of his bedroom, his anger simmering just beneath the surface. His hands trembled slightly, a side effect of the pills he’d taken earlier, but he barely noticed.

“She didn’t even look twice,” he muttered to himself, his voice low and gravelly. “Didn’t even care who the hell I was.”

Jerry walked in cautiously, carrying a fresh drink. “You all right, E?”

“No, I ain’t all right!” Elvis snapped, slamming his fist down on the dresser. “I need to know who she is. I need her name, where she lives—everything.”

Jerry blinked, hesitating for a moment. “E, you’re talkin’ like—”

“I don’t give a damn how I’m talkin’,” Elvis interrupted, his voice rising. “I want her found. You hear me? You got one job, Jerry, and that’s to do what the hell I say. Now, get out there and find her.”

Jerry sighed, but he knew better than to argue. “All right, E. I’ll see what I can do.”

As the door clicked shut behind him, Elvis sank into the chair by the window, his hands gripping the armrests tightly. His mind was already spinning, consumed by thoughts of the woman who had barely spared him a second glance.

He didn’t know her name, but that didn’t matter. By the end of the week, she’d know his.

TAG: @kxnnxy @jhoneybees @gyratingpresley @buglass @iloveelvisss

[harbingrs]

Take away the sensation inside Bittersweet migraine in my head It's like a throbbing toothache of the mind I can't take this feeling anymore

Drain the pressure from the swelling This sensation's overwhelming Give me a long kiss goodnight And everything'll be alright Tell me that I won't feel a thing So give me Novacaine

[welcometogrouchland]

♫ I do what I want/Crying in the bleachers and I said it was fun/I don't need anything from anyone ♫

(ID in Alt) you guys ever think about your own posts and get upset?? Anyway Damian Wayne I love you I'm so sorry your life is like that

[seventeendeer]

this isn't at all meant to be condescending or finger-waggy because 100% we all have blind spots like this, but I'm really, really hoping that the people who never found Gaiman's approach to his own fandom concerning in any way will take this all as a learning moment.

he was an older, hyper-famous author engaging directly and frequently with an online audience of largely vulnerable young marginalized people. he presented himself as cultured and worldly, and made himself approachable as someone to go to for advice, encouragement and "wisdom." his manner of speech was extremely pathos-heavy and clearly intended to be comforting and encouraging in exactly the way his target demographic needed it to be to swallow every word. the way he spoke about stories and creativity was designed to make young creative hopefuls feel special and important, while sweeping real analytical techniques under the rug - in hindsight, likely so no one would think too critically about the disturbing amount of patriarchal abuse played for cheap shock value and voyerism in his own body of works.

Gaiman saw a target demographic that was desperate for an older creative role model to tell them they were worth something, and he exploited that pain to twist a narrative around himself where he was king and any critique leveled at him or his works were the enemy.

to be clear, he could have been innocent. he could totally have been just an out-of-touch old man saying nice things to people because he wanted to be kind and he thought he was a lot smarter than he really was. red flags are warning signs, not a surefire way to tell if someone is actually "secretly shitty."

but if you used to look up to him, PLEASE take this moment to revisit the ideas you absorbed from him. did you take his words to heart because they seemed to have objective merit? or did you take them to heart because it felt good to believe what he said? do you still hold these values? does knowing he was intentionally manipulating his online audience make you less certain? do you need more information from a different source before deciding one way or another?

again, I'm just really, really hoping people on here will take a moment to reevaluate the ideas and opinions he's injected into tumblr fandom culture, because his reach is immense and he has absolutely been manipulating popular perception of relevant topics to gain further influence and control the narrative around both his own and Pratchett's legacy. please, please take this moment to notice what he's been doing - and next time someone tries to pull the same shit, hopefully we'll be able to apply what we've learned from experience.

[loumandivorce]

trans malcolm is so. imagine if the person the most accepting of you was your serial killer dad

[stewykablooey]

lest we forget what kendall is really up to post-finale

[angelstrawbabie420]

in my quest to quell my pain ive only hurt myself worse. damned if i do damned if i dont.

[mariemariemaria]

Does anybody else feel like mental health awareness has done very little to help them in material reality

[softpadawan]

Kanan Jarrus, c. 12 BBY

[byanyan]

byan being extremely defensive of their substance abuse habits. byan being so very familiar with being looked down upon for drinking & doing drugs that they're terrified of those they've let close thinking less of them for for it. they've been kicked out of homes for it. they've been suspended & expelled from schools over it. they've had nasty things said and done to them because of it. it's only natural that they anticipate the worst from even those most important to them, so they tend to take steps to hide it where, around anyone else, they might instead broadcast it.

byan, upon being found out by someone close to them, getting either aggressively defensive or becoming a sobbing, apologizing mess.

[guavagyal]

at some point as an adult, you realize dating isn't worth it because a majority of people need to be on some illicit substance to get through the day and only narcissists get love in this hyper individualistic society

[clancyycat]

hiiii i’m a little drunk

[anarchne]

i wish i could remove the word “adopt” from kept peoples’ vernacular lol

[bridgeportbritt]

A Fresh Start Rehabilitation Center | Cypress, SimDonia

???: Who could be here for me? Mom and Dad would've called first.

Arabella nervous: Hey there...

???: Oh, my Watcher! Arabella??

Arabella: Hey, Alex.

Alex: I can't believe you're- how did you-? Oh, my Watcher.

Arabella: I hope you're not mad.

Alex: Mad? no! I'm confused, but I'm so happy to see you! How'd you find me here?

Arabella: Umm... we're best friends with the Queen.

Alex: Really? Diana sent you here?

Arabella: We've been worried about you, so she had someone do some digging. Once we found you here, we knew we needed to see you in person. Diana wishes she could be here, but..

Alex: I understand. Gosh, I'm just happy to see you. Sorry, I said that already. Let's sit and catch up.

Alex: So, how is Diana? You've seen her recently?

Arabella: Yeah, she's doing good. Busy, of course. Seems like she's been pregnant forever. Won't be long now.

Alex: Aw, and you?

Arabella: Well, we just had little Madeliene not to long ago. I don't think I've seen you since I had Jayme.

Alex: Wow, three little ones? You guys aren't wasting no time. Gosh, I feel like I've missed a lot.

Arabella: Yeah, it was like you fell off the face of the earth there. What happened?

Alex: Right... well, it's kind of a long story, but after the wedding fiasco... I was really struggling.

Alex upset: I tried my best to keep it together for the coronation. It was just... seeing her again. Knowing that because of me... my best friend almost...

Arabella: Alex, no one blames you for that.

Alex: Yeah, I kept trying to tell myself that. But, after the coronation.. I just... kind of went off the deep end.

The rest of this post describes substance abuse, alcohol, and drugs. Please read at your own risk.

Alex: The partying, the drinking, the drugs. I was spiraling out of control hard and fast. I- I didn't even recognize myself anymore.

Arabella: Oh, Alex...

Alex: I was just so torn up with guilt and I hated myself for even dating that guy. I felt so violated and used. And I just let everybody down once again with my stupid choices.

Arabella sobbing: I'm so sorry you were going through that, Alex! We should've paid more attention and been there for you!

Alex: No, don't think that, Arabella, really. You were living your life! I was a mess and isolating myself on purpose. Eventually, my parents caught on and sent me here.

Arabella: I'm so glad for that. I... know life is crazy and we don't see each other as much, but... I don't know what I'd do without you. You're my best friend.

Alex: Thanks, Belle. Even though being here sucked at first, it's working its magic, I guess. I've been sober for 5 months, therapy 3 times a week, group twice, activities up the ass.

Arabella: That's amazing, Alex. I'm so proud of you!

Alex: Thanks. Plus, I kind of met someone..

Arabella: Oh, really?

Alex: Yeah, his brother's a patient here. But, my dad's company works with his. He owns a clothing brand. Or "lifestlye apparel" as he likes to call it. He's cool.

Arabella: He sounds like the most normal guy you've ever dated.

Alex laughs: I know, right? No "salarypersons" from Mt. Komorebi this time around. We're just friends for now. Gotta stay focused on the program. But, I only have 3 months left, so... who knows?

Arabella: Wow, that's a really mature way to go about it. I am so impressed, Alex. You're killing it! You're so much stronger than you realize. I can't wait to see how you flourish after this.

Alex: Thanks, I'm excited to. Feels like - ugh - a fresh start.

Arabella chuckles: Ah, that's why they call this place that... Well, care to show me around? Let me into Alex's world?

Alex: Sure, since it's a little less messy.

[phagodyke]

wanted to go to the gym social tn but as I was getting my stuff together to go out, a friend said smth that rly pissed me off and now I'm too fucking angry to go out. fucks sake man