#how did this even happen? | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

whitenoisefanfiction · 14 days ago

Text

Let the Games Begin (I guess)

Ummm.... did I just write the start of a Squid Game fic? Seriously? I have only watched three episodes of this show so far but this hellsite got to me and now I am writing fics for the season which I haven't even seen! *shakes my head* I dunno anymore.

So here is the start of a 457 fic from the VIPs POV because why not?

I guess if anyone wants to see the start of whatever this is turning out to be, here you go. I wrote it in 30 minutes so its kinda bad. I will make it actually 457 if I continue it (with the VIPs having a vested interest in the ship, because that sounds fun. Plus, even though I haven't finished the show yet, I have theories about what happens to the winners after the games so thats added here. But that does mean a suggestion of human trafficking so be warned)

-----

The gilded rooms buzzed with speculation, the large groups converging around the screens, ready and waiting for the show to begin.

It was an annual event for most of the people in the room, no one unfamiliar with what was about to happen and yet, the atmosphere was electric. Each member of the large crown milling around, wore an intricately designed and expensive gold mask, depicting some sort of animal. The masks were practical, as well as an opulent display of wealth. Most of these people did not know the identity of their fellows. In fact, a few of them had long term deadly feuds against each other. But the masks gave them all a measure of anonymity and freedom to mingle together without dispute. After all, regardless of where they had come from, they had all paid the same price to be in this room this day.

“A lot of people here. It's odd for so many to arrive so early.’’ A tall male dressed in a fitted suit said to his colleague, his dark eyes peering through his golden mask in the design of an Eagles head. In his hand was clutched a glass of wine, the value of which would be enough to bankrupt an ordinary person.

Beside him, a smaller male wearing a Snake head nodded enthusiastically.

“You noticed that too?” He said, gripping a crystal glass containing spring water. “Normally most people don't show up until the second last game. No point in betting until you have better odds."

“Oh, haven't you heard?” A female patron walking past asked, stopping to stand with the two, her owl head mask complementing her gold dress. “There is a returning Champion this year. Didn't you see the invitation?’

She held up a small pamphlet she had been clutching in her hand as she moved past.

“A returning Champion?” A fourth figure in a Bear mask asked, approaching the forming group, a small figure trailing behind in a plain black mask, the mark of a personal translator to this group. The translator quickly asked his boss's question to the group.

Owl nodded her head, waving the pamphlet in front of her face. Eagle reached over, palm up in a silent request for the paper which she wordlessly handed over. He scanned it through his mask, Snake peering over his arm at it.

“Who owns him? And more to the point, who would be stupid enough to return their property to the game.” Eagle asked, looking up at Owl as Bear's translator muttered hurriedly in his ear.

Owl shrugged.

“No one, as far as I can tell. He came back on his own accord.” she said.

Snake spluttered into his drink, the suddenly inhaled liquid causing a coughing fit.

“How does that work?” Bear asked through his translator. “Isn't it a breach of contract?”

“It is. And I mean to tax the Game Master on it when we see him.” Owl said with a sharp nod. “How they could just let a survivor go free like that is mind blowing. He could have destroyed everything, had he gone to the authorities.”

“That is, if his mind even survived the first time.” Eagle stated.

Owl turned, her eyes glaring through the mask.

“We all know that it takes a special kind of mind to win these games. Psychopaths and nut jobs mainly. Not the sort of people who the authorities tend to believe. And from what I understand, they normally let the Champions go back to the world for a while, to allow their minds to fully break from the trauma before they bring them to the auction hall. Makes them more suggestible and easier to train. And I trust that the Game's Masters keep anyone who could do anything firmly in hand. Don't worry my dear. Out beloved sport is safe.” he continued, raising his wine glass in a mocking salute.

Owl scowled, her mask unable to fully hide the actions as she crossed her arms over her chest.

“So why did no one purchase him?” Snake asked. He had managed to take the pamphlet from Eagle and was scanning it intently. “Usually when a Champion comes to auction, there is a massive fight for them. And it's not like he's not attractive. I would have bid on him, as a bed warmer if nothing else.”

“Champions can be used for more than just bed sports.” Eagle scoffed.

“You should know. How many do you own now?” Snake snapped back, shifting his glass in his hand.

“Three. All properly broken in and trained.” Eagle said, a hind of pride in his voice.

“Lord knows what you do with them if not use them for fun.” Snake muttered.

Eagle shot him a look through the mask.

“I use them to conduct business transactions. Nothing like a killer with a high body count and a broken mind to smooth over difficult clients.”

“But I still don't understand why he wasn't picked up after being released. Did he not break?” Bear stated, glancing at his fellows.

Owl reached over and snatched the pamphlet back from Snake.

“Check the year.” She said, thrusting the pamphlet to Bear who took it graciously and handed it to his translator. The translator read quickly, finding the required information before muttering in their boss's ear.

“2021. I didn't attend that year. Did something happen?” Bear asked, glancing at his company.

“That was the year the old man died, wasn't it?” Snake asked, glancing at Owl who nodded.

“Old man? What's so special about that? A lot of old men die.” Bear said.

“Not an old man. The Old Man. The Old Game Master.” Owl explained, a hint of annoyance seeping into her voice.

“Ah.” Bear replied in understanding once his translator had finished speaking.

“Didn't he take the tourist position that year?” A new figure asked, walking up to the group. His mask was that of a Dragon, his accent, height and hint of deathly pale skin showing his foreign roots to the rest of the group. From his comment, it was clear he had been listening into the conversation for some time.

“I believe so. If I remember correctly, he picked the Champion.” Eagle stated.

“I thought that was against the rules.” Snake said.

“He didn't help him win. But I think he guessed who it would be. I know I didn't pick the winner that year. I thought it was gonna be the other one.” Eagle stated. “I lost a lot of money on that bet.”

“Did anyone win that bet?” Dragon asked.

“Not from what I remember. Just goes to show, don't discount the dark horse.” Eagle replied.

“So the dark horse won and then managed to slip out of the auction. Interesting.” Dragon muttered, peering at the paper Bear still had. On it was a photo and a brief description of the player they were discussing.

“I wonder who got the tourist position this year.” Dragon muttered, still reading. “I would have paid handsomely for that spot, had I seen it come up for sale.”

The rest of the group exchanged looks, all of them in silent agreement. The tourist position was a coveted position amongst the group. A single place in the games in question which, rather than be filled by any of the hundreds of desperate competitors, was reserved for the highest bidder. The coveted 001 position which would allow the watchers to test their skills without the dangers the other competitors faced. The only rules were, the tourist could not tell the competitors what was going on and could not proceed past the second last game. It would not be fair to the competitors and would rob them all of a Champion.

“Maybe it's a dummy spot this year. Although I do not know why they would do that, after so heavily advertising the Champion’s return.” Bear said.

Dummy spots were reserved for if no one wanted to join the game that year. An old photo would be used for the spot and ‘killed off’ at the start of the first game. With the large number of competitors at the start and the sheer shock they faced in the first game, no one ever realized that a player had been missing in the chaos.

“Or maybe they are testing a game this year so one of the creators is in there.” Snake suggested. It did happen occasionally, when a new game was introduced, for a staff member to enter to run the game with the competitors, to see if it could yield the required outcomes in a live simulation.

“A bit of bloody poor timing in that case.” Bear stated. “They could have made a decent amount if they auctioned off the spot after advertising a returning Champion. I am sure a lot of people would love to meet him.”

“I still don't get how this one didn't come up for auction. How did he manage to disappear? And if he did, how did they get him back?” Eagle said, reaching forward to tap his finger on the photograph, drawing the discussion back to the topic at hand.

“He must have managed to slip away during the upheaval of the old man's death.” Owl stated. “Maybe the Old Man already put a claim on him but died before he could be broken and retrieved.”

Several members of the group nodded. It was well known that the Game Master had first dibs on the Champions and could claim them and stop an auction. But only once before, had he actually claimed a Champion for himself.

“I assume he is still alive.” Owl said, glancing at the paper. “Since he had the advantage this time.”

“I believe so.” Bear muttered, scanning the screens which were displaying the competitors' photographs and status.

No one tended to watch the first game. It was the game where the chaft was separated from the wheat and no one wanted to place a bet too early. Unless they were very interested in bloodshed, it tended to be a boring but necessary game.

“Yes. There he is. Still alive.” He nodded to a small corner of the screen.

“So we have a returning Champion in the games. I wonder if that will affect anything.” Dragon said

“And more to the point, could we possibly get a two time Champion?” Bear added.

“I doubt it.” Eagle snorted. “Even if he is a bloodthirsty psychopath, the odds of winning twice are insanely low.”

“A shame.” Snake said, a little wistful, glancing up at the screen and the picture of the topic of their conversation. “Give me a chance and I would definitely be willing to drop a lot of money to buy him. Even unbroken, just for the fun of doing it myself.”

“Maybe the Game Master will pull him out before the end. Or maybe they will all vote to leave. It has happened before and I bet, if the Champion walks, they will want to correct their mistake and place him up for auction.”

Snake seemed to brighten up at that comment.

“I will live in hope then.” He said. A soft ding, like a dinner bell chimed, drawing all the rooms occupants to the screens. The second game was about to begin, the competitors being rounded up. All eyes were fixed on the screen, searching for the Dark Horse with the number ‘456’ on his flank in the mess of human suffering.

Raising his glass in the gesture of a toast, Snake took a last opportunity to speak before the entertainment began.

“Well then gentlemen. And lady. To the Games.”

“To the Games.” The rest of the group muttered, returning the toast before their attention was inevitably drawn to the blood sports.

------

TBC? Maybe? If so, it will turn into 457, pinky swear. Maybe I will add it to my AO3 page.

#squid game fanfic #squid game fanfiction #my writing #457 #gihun x inho #future ship #the VIPs are scum #001 x 456 #ginho #how did this even happen?#20 minute fic

29 notes · View notes

giantkillerjack · 2 years ago

Text

Today my therapist introduced me to a concept surrounding disability that she called "hLep".

[plain-text version of this post can be found under the cut]

Which is when you - in this case, you are a disabled person - ask someone for help ("I can't drink almond milk so can you get me some whole milk?", or "Please call Donna and ask her to pick up the car for me."), and they say yes, and then they do something that is not what you asked for but is what they think you should have asked for ("I know you said you wanted whole, but I got you skim milk because it's better for you!", "I didn't want to ruin Donna's day by asking her that, so I spent your money on an expensive towing service!") And then if you get annoyed at them for ignoring what you actually asked for - and often it has already happened repeatedly - they get angry because they "were just helping you! You should be grateful!!"

And my therapist pointed out that this is not "help", it's "hLep".

Sure, it looks like help; it kind of sounds like help too; and if it was adjusted just a little bit, it could be help. But it's not help. It's hLep.

At its best, it is patronizing and makes a person feel unvalued and un-listened-to. Always, it reinforces the false idea that disabled people can't be trusted with our own care. And at its worst, it results in disabled people losing our freedom and control over our lives, and also being unable to actually access what we need to survive.

So please, when a disabled person asks you for help on something, don't be a hLeper, be a helper! In other words: they know better than you what they need, and the best way you can honor the trust they've put in you is to believe that!

Also, I want to be very clear that the "getting angry at a disabled person's attempts to point out harmful behavior" part of this makes the whole thing WAY worse. Like it'd be one thing if my roommate bought me some passive-aggressive skim milk, but then they heard what I had to say, and they apologized and did better in the future - our relationship could bounce back from that. But it is very much another thing to have a crying shouting match with someone who is furious at you for saying something they did was ableist. Like, Christ, Jessica, remind me to never ask for your support ever again! You make me feel like if I asked you to call 911, you'd order a pizza because you know I'll feel better once I eat something!!

Edit: crediting my therapist by name with her permission - this term was coined by Nahime Aguirre Mtanous!

Edit again: I made an optional follow-up to this post after seeing the responses. Might help somebody. CW for me frankly talking about how dangerous hLep really is.

Plain-text version:

Today my therapist introduced me to a concept surrounding disability that she called "hLep".

And my therapist pointed out that this is not "help", it's "hLep".

Sure, it looks like help; it kind of sounds like help too; and if it was adjusted just a little bit, it could be help. But it's not help. It's hLep.

P.S. Also, I want to be very clear that the "getting angry at a disabled person's attempts to point out harmful behavior" part of this makes the whole thing WAY worse. Like it'd be one thing if my roommate bought me some passive-aggressive skim milk, but then they heard what I had to say, and they apologized and did better in the future - our relationship could bounce back from that. But it is very much another thing to have a crying shouting match with someone who is furious at you for saying something they did was ableist. Like, Christ, Jessica, remind me to never ask for your support ever again! You make me feel like if I asked you to call 911, you'd order a pizza because you know I'll feel better once I eat something!!

Edit: crediting my therapist by name with her permission - this term was coined by Nahime Aguirre Mtanous!

Edit again: I made an optional follow-up to this post after seeing the responses. Might help somebody. CW for me frankly talking about how dangerous hLep really is.

#hlep #original #mental health #my sympathies and empathies to anyone who has to rely on this kind of hlep to get what they need.#the people in my life who most need to see this post are my family but even if they did I sincerely doubt they would internalize it #i've tried to break thru to them so many times it makes my head hurt. so i am focusing on boundaries and on finding other forms of support #and this thing i learned today helps me validate those boundaries. the example with the milk was from my therapist.#the example with the towing company was a real thing that happened with my parents a few months ago while I was age 28. 28!#a full adult age! it is so infantilizing as a disabled adult to seek assistance and support from ableist parents.#they were real mad i was mad tho. and the spoons i spent trying to explain it were only the latest in a long line of #huge family-related spoon expenditures. distance and the ability to enforce boundaries helps. haven't talked to sisters for literally the #longest period of my whole life. people really believe that if they love you and try to help you they can do no wrong.#and those people are NOT great allies to the chronically sick folks in their lives.#you can adore someone and still fuck up and hurt them so bad. will your pride refuse to accept what you've done and lash out instead?#or will you have courage and be kind? will you learn and grow? all of us have prejudices and practices we are not yet aware of.#no one is pure. but will you be kind? will you be a good friend? will you grow? i hope i grow. i hope i always make the choice to grow.#i hope with every year i age i get better and better at making people feel the opposite of how my family's ableism has made me feel #i will see them seen and hear them heard and smile at their smiles. make them feel smart and held and strong.#just like i do now but even better! i am always learning better ways to be kind so i don't see why i would stop

17K notes · View notes