whitenoisefanfiction

[whitenoisefanfiction]

Did I just write a Hannibal/Squid Game crossover reincarnation short fic? Yes, yes I did. Why? Because reasons.

I can't help it that the Front Man reminds me so much of Dr Lecter and Gi-hun is so Will Graham coded (even if I didn't get around to bringing Gi-hun into this story yet)

So this was written fast with absolutly no chill or spell and grammar check and is terribly OOC. Now I am posting it here because I cannot think of a title to post it on AO3. Fic titles are my mortal enemy.

Read if you dare.

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If asked, Hwang In-ho would tell anyone that he didn't believe in reincarnation. In fact, if asked later in his life if he believed, he would have probably had the one asking beaten, if not shot. As the Front Man in charge of the Games which had an international reach and money beyond anyone's wildest dreams, he needed to be practical, smart and could not be fooled by silly superstitions. But in private, it was a different matter.

In-ho did believe in reincarnation. In fact, he was sure he himself was the product of such a practice. 

It had happened suddenly, the realisation he had lived before. When the first dreams came, all the way back in 2015. 

They had started the very night he had received Oh Il-nam’s offer to rejoin the Games, not as a competitor this time, but as the Games Master. The one pulling the strings.

In-ho had initially been disgusted by the offer. Despite his loss, he had still been a man of principles and even though he now had blood on his hands, the blood of his fellow competitors from his own game, he still tried to cling to that one small shred of goodness he believed was within him. Tried to ignore the rush of power he had felt at the game's conclusion only a few short months prior, knowing he was the lone survivor and winner.

He had taken the offered business card, the armed guards at the old man's back the only reason he had maintained a polite composure and hadn't lashed out after being cornered. They had managed to locate him in the dark streets of Seoul while he had been walking aimlessly, his life a mess now that his one goal, to keep his wife alive, had failed. In-ho knew then, he hadn’t escaped. They knew where he was. He was still in hell. 

In-ho had tried not to hear the old man's subtle comments about his eyes being those of a killer, of being a man with a peculiar experience. Rejected the offer and ignored the way the old man laughed at the answer, stating that he would be allowed a few days to reconsider. 

“You have been here before.” The old man had said as a parting comment. “I am curious what you will do with your second chance.”

In-ho had ignored the statement at the time, brushing it off as similar to the unusual comments the man had made when they had first met during the games, back when he had appeared to be a frail older contestant, unlikely to survive the trials they faced. 

In-ho had taken some pity on him, back in the games, fooled by the mask. He hadn’t exactly been kind, snapping and pushing the old man when he realised danger was near but he had tried to protect the man at least a little. He couldn’t be a police officer if he had turned his back on someone asking for help.

And that seemed to have been his curse. The reason Il-nam seemed to favour him, enough to make such an offer. 

Head spinning from the confrontation, In-ho had made his way home, card shoved hurriedly into his pocket, only to be taken out again once he stumbled through the door so it could be thrown on the table. 

In-ho had pointedly ignored it. If he was being watched, he didn’t want to give them the satisfaction of seeing him contemplate their insane offer. 

Instead, he had curled up on his too large bed, ignoring his phone which rang constantly as his brother desperately called him and tried to think of anything except for the memory of the fearful eyes looking up at him, the other competitor who had tried so hard to kill him. Tried to think of anything except the strange feeling of pleasure as he felt his attacker's life slip away under his hands. Of the blood money in his bank account, untouched, tainted. 

The dream hadn't felt right either. Instead of slipping slowly into sleep, it had come on suddenly. One moment, In-ho was laying on the cold bed, wishing for everything to change and the next, he was slowly rising from a chair at the sound of footsteps. Standing, In-ho turned to look at his surroundings. A small, sparsely furnished room, more like a cell than a home. But the strange thing was the wall. One of them seemed to be made of glass. He was inside it, like he was on display. An animal, turning tricks for an audience.  

The footsteps drew near and then a man stepped out of the shadows and into view.

He was a westerner, so like the tourists who crowded the streets of Seoul. He was dressed in a shirt and jeans. Comfortable, yet cheap clothing. His dark curls hung limply over his face, partly hiding his eyes and yet, In-ho could feel them on him.

There was something about this man. Sometimes that made In-ho’s cheat ache but he didn't know why. Without thinking, In-ho stepped towards the glass which separated him from the man. 

He noticed how the man trembled slightly, like a frightened rabbit before he caught himself, tensing up and ready to fight. A prey animal suddenly turned predator. 

“Hello Will.” A voice said. 

In-ho heard the voice. He felt it slip from his own throat and yet, it was not his voice. Not his language.

In-ho knew only a little bit of English. He had picked it up over the years but he had never been even close to fluent and would never resort to it as a first language. So why had he said those words in English? Why had he addressed the westerner in that manner? 

The man didn't seem surprised by the greeting, unlike In-ho. Instead, his gaze finally met In-ho's, and In-ho found himself gazing at the most intense stare he had ever seen. 

A mixture of emotions rushed through his body, In-ho struggling to identify them all. Joy, longing, amusement, lust. All of them crashed down on him. And in the man's eyes, he recognised a similar storm. The man was just as caught up in his emotions. 

This man, whoever he was, was important. Important enough that In-ho knew he would kill for this man. Had killed for him. A measly human life was nothing if it meant having this man's gaze on him always.

The man hesitated for a moment before breaking his gaze. 

“Hannibal” He replied, also in English and the tone was music to In-ho's ears. And In-ho remembered the sharp feeling of hot blood on his hands. Of fresh meat between his teeth. A satisfaction of knowing a pig had been slaughtered and there was a game afoot.

In-ho woke with a gasp, his mind whirling.

What had that dream been?

In-ho didn't know, but rather than feel disgusted, he felt intrigued. Why was the feeling of blood, of death, suddenly so attractive? Why did he suddenly feel like he could gain the man's attention, if only he was creative enough?

In-ho didn't know what was happening to him but the ghost of those feelings clung to him like a second skin. The desire, not just to kill, but to impress. To show his true colours. 

In-ho caught himself? What was he thinking? He had just escaped hell and lost his beloved wife and child. He may have been dismissed from his employment but he was still a law abiding man, a former officer of the law. He had seen death close up and never felt anything but revulsion and pity. He had lived through hell, fighting his way out with his bare hands and never experienced a single moment of joy in it. Why now, did the idea of murder excite him? 

And why has that dream felt so real? So right? 

Had it even been a dream or had he seen something otherworldly?

In-ho knew something had shifted inside him. A small part had changed and was continuing to change, as if his soul had taken on something new.

The man with the intense gaze. In-ho wanted, no, needed to find him. To somehow speak to him and understand him. 

But how could he do that? He was a poor man in Korea. Yes, he had just won billions but he had no connections, no ability to find one westerner. He had no idea where these men had even been when this conversation took place. And more to the point, why was he suddenly assuming these men, who had been figments of a dream, were real?

How was he supposed to find out? 

And yet, he did have a contact available. Someone who had vast powers and could maybe give him answers. He wasn’t ignorant of that. But to do that was to possibly sell his soul to the devil. 

Glancing over at the table where he had dumped the card, he thought for a long time about what he could do. 

Days passed as he contemplated his next move, hidden away in his home. He ignored Jun-ho’s arrival, his little brother frantically knocking at the locked door and shouting his name until the brat was finally asked to leave by the landlord. He ignored the phone calls from his peers and friends, trying to find out if he was ok. Ignored his desire to eat or sleep as he replayed the dream in his mind, becoming more and more convinced it was more than a dream.

Finally, on the third day of his self imposed lockdown, he cracked. 

Rising to his feet, he grabbed the card and his phone, carefully dialing the number. 

He hadn’t managed to get any words out when the call was picked up, the voice on the other end stating a time and place before hanging up again. 

It should have been enough to make In-ho wary, but the fatigue of the last few days had left him mentally drained. Instead, he had gathered his coat and the card and left his apartment, making his way to the location. 

A limo had been waiting for him, the masked pink guards outside. One of them had nodded before opening the door to the vehicle for him, indicating for him to climb in. 

In-ho had done so without protest, slipping into the luxurious vehicle. 

As he had guessed, Il-nam had been seated in the vehicle already, looking calm and relaxed, compared to In-ho’s frazzled mind. The old man had smiled, a deceptively warm smile but In-ho wasn’t fooled. 

“What do you mean, I have been here before?” He asked, ignoring the slight to his elder by failing to wait for a proper greeting or address in honorifics. Il-nam hadn’t seemed offended, and even gave an amused smile at In-ho’s behaviour. 

“I mean what I said. You have been here before.”

“Of course I have. It’s Seoul. I grew up here.” In-ho snapped back. 

The old man chuckled, shaking his head slightly. 

“You deliberately mis-understand. I mean you have walked this earth before. A different face. A  different life but the same person.”

In-ho frowned. Although he wanted answers, he wanted them straight, not riddles for Il-nam’s amusement. 

“You are reborn. I saw it in the games. You were a husk then. An empty house waiting for its owner to move in and make it a home. But now, when I look at you…” The man stared deep into In-ho’s eyes. “Hello new friend. I hope you are enjoying your stay here.”

In-ho frowned. 

“You are insane.” He stated, reaching for the door. As much as he wanted answers, wanted help to find the westerner who had haunted his dreams, he was not going to put up with this, being made into a joke for the old man. He was no longer in the game and did not have to continue to amuse him. 

“If I am insane, then please answer this one last question before you decide to depart.” Il-nam said. 

In-ho growled under his breath before turning back to the man, feeling a sudden urge to kill him with his bare hands.

“Fine. And after, you will leave me alone. Never contact me again or ask me to work for you.” He replied, hand still resting on the handle of the door. 

Il-nam nodded. 

“I have been looking into you. Researching your history, even before you joined my games. You were born and raised in Korea, have never even left the country before. No real experiences of other cultures. So tell me, why have you been speaking fluent French to me this whole time?”

In-ho froze. Quickly, he replayed the conversation in his head. 

Il-nam hadn’t been lying. But how? In-ho have never learnt French. Never even had a desire to. And yet, somehow he knew it. Knew it well enough that he had been able to slip into it without trying. 

“I can imagine you are very confused, friend. The old part of you trying to understand this new person you are becoming. Two separate people merging into one.” Il-nam said, sliding forward on his seat to better gaze at the younger man. “I want to help you. All I ask is you help me in return. And maybe we can find out who you used to be.”

In-ho had been reluctant at first, unsure about joining forces with the man who had put him through hell but with no other options to get answers, he had finally agreed and entered a world which was both familiar, terrifying and thrilling. 

Il-nam had explained the concept. It had been something he had studied over his lifetime, and if he wasn’t lying, something he had been studying over multiple lifetimes. When someone died with unfinished business, they could take on a new body to continue their work. In-ho had been somewhat familiar with the concept. Reincarnation was a fairly common belief in some parts of the country, especially amongst the elderly. But he had always thought it required someone to be reborn into a new infant body. He was an adult, in his early 40s. How could he have gone so long and not known this until now? But Il-nam laughed when he had said as much, explaining that reincarnation required a compatible mind and body, not an age limit.

In-ho had reluctantly accepted the explanation as he continued to explore the idea in between his work, learning how to run the games as per their deal. And to his surprise, he found himself enjoying the work. Having the power of life and death over the lesser pigs. The dregs of society who delighted in harming and abusing each other for small gain. Not worth the title of humans.   

The dreams had continued, In-ho and his new mentor working to decipher the information and link it to reality in between planning the next games. And the more they learnt, the more In-ho found himself agreeing. He had been someone else once. 

The name the westerner had called him had been the first clue. 

‘Hannibal’ 

It was not a common name in the English speaking world, In-ho had learnt. But there were a few known namesakes. And it wasn’t enough for him to discover who Il-nam thought he was.

The next time a dream had happened, a few days after he had arrived in his new home, thanks to Il-nam’s instructions, In-ho was a little more prepared to take notice of his surroundings. Again, the westerners had been there, but this time they were in a vast, decorative office space. In-ho had gotten used to opulence in the short time he had been Il-nam’s protege but this room, although expensive, was more refined. He had found himself sitting in a comfortable chair, the seat opposite taken by the westerner with the sharp gaze. 

Leaning in the chair, In-ho found himself handing a notebook to the man. 

“I want you to draw me a clock.” He said in English. The other man, looking haggard, had complied before handing the paper back. The resulting mess on the page, a confusing jumble of squiggles. 

In-ho could feel himself smiling as he closed the book, hiding the page away. 

“What is your professional diagnosis, Doctor Lecter?” The other man asked. “Am I still fit for duty?”

“I already told Uncle Jack you were.” In-ho replied, crossing his leg over his knee. In his peripheries, he could see that he was wearing high quality and therefore, expensive trousers. Something he was still getting used to, back in the waking world. 

“When you rubber stamped me earlier?” The man asked, raising an eyebrow in question. There was a slight air of mockery in his voice, despite the fatigue. 

In-ho couldn’t stop his lips turning up in a small smirk. 

“I do not remember risking my profession for such an underhanded action.” He stated.

“Of course. Plausible deniability.” The man muttered. 

“Or maybe just helping a friend.” In-ho suggested. 

The man glanced in his general direction but didn’t meet his eyes. After a moment, he shook his head, as if dislodging a thought. 

Somewhere in the distance, an alarm sounded, breaking the silence.

In-ho couldn’t stop the sigh escaping his throat. 

“I am afraid we are out of time Will.” he said, reluctantly rising to his feet. 

The man followed the action, rising from his own seat and collecting his worn old jacket from the ground beside him. 

“Same time next week?” he asked, glancing in In-ho’s direction as he draped the coat over his arm. 

“If you wish. You know you are always welcome to come to my home for dinner or even just for a friendly talk off the record.” In-ho said. He stepped forward, casually moving close enough to be what he considered within the other man's personal space but not close enough that the other man could call him out without potentially causing offence. 

A sour scent reached his nose. A sickly smell. It was coming from the other man. 

“I don’t think that would be appropriate, Doctor Lecter.” The other man stated, standing stiffly, not moving away but his body language showing he was not entirely comfortable with the close presence. 

“Nevertheless, the offer is there. Unless Jack Crawford calls for me to assist you again at a scene, we won’t meet again until our next session.”

“Yeah, no offence but that would mean no one died and I happen to think that's a good thing.” The man bit back, a little bit of fire in his voice. It was surprisingly thrilling to hear. 

In-ho felt his lips press together to cover an amused smile. 

“Of course. I won’t keep you any longer. Until next time, stay safe Will.”

“Bye Hannibal.” The man said before striding out the door, not looking back as it closed behind him. 

In-ho stood still for a long moment, watching the door before he turned and grabbed the notebook off the chair where he had left it. He opened the page to the drawing and gazed at it for a moment before tearing the page out. 

Walking towards an elaborate desk, he opened a draw and pulled out a folder, slipping the paper inside to join a growing stack of similar images before returning the folder to the draw and locking it. He then glanced at the desk and a rolodex full of cards. 

Opening it, he pulled out a card from the collection and slipped it in his pocket before he turned and walked towards the door. 

In-ho awoke just as the door swung open, jolting upwards on the comfortable bed in the suite he had been provided by Il-nam. 

Immediately, he rose to his feet and made his way to the small office area in the corner where an expensive laptop was set up, trying to hang on to the memories. 

He had a name now. Something he could use to try and find out more. 

Opening up a search bar, he carefully typed on the unfamiliar keyboard. 

‘Doctor Lecter’

Pressing the enter key, he was almost immediately bombarded with hundreds of websites. 

He had been deep in research a few hours later when Il-nam had arrived at his door, the old man annoyed he had ignored the summons for dinner. 

The other man's annoyance had disappeared as soon as he had noticed the screen displaying a photograph and the pile of hurriedly handwritten notes.

“Oh, you found yourself.” He said, a hint of glee in his voice In-ho wasn’t sure he liked. 

“Maybe.” In-ho said reluctantly. He was struggling to find anything to discredit his theory. The information he had gathered on a Doctor Hannibal Lecter, which should have alarmed him, seemed far too familiar. 

In-ho had grown up with a younger brother and yet, reading up the Doctor’s history, he suddenly had memories of a sister he had never had. He remembered her murder, the terror of that night as a helpless child tried to survive. 

He had never been outside of Korea and yet, he remembered the snow covered forests of Lithuania. The beautiful architecture of Paris and the wild wooded areas of America. 

He remembered the deaths. The rude salesmen and solicitors, more pigs than humans. He remembers the artistry, the passion in the kill. And instead of feeling disgusted or sick, he felt pride in it. He remembered the rich, complex taste of the flesh, cooked to perfection and served to his favored guests. 

He remembered a man. Broken and twisted and so full of potential. A challenge turned into a fascination and then slowly twisting into a deep love. 

His research had corroborated all his feelings, as he read up on the man he now knew he had once been. 

Hannibal Lecter. An infamous cannibal serial killer to some. An artist to others. Declared dead in late 2015, after falling off a cliff while on the run. The very night In-ho had his first dream. 

And the other man.

In-ho had found that there was a name commonly connected to Lecters. An FBI agent who, according to several articles, had made a deal with the devil to catch other killers. 

William Graham. 

In-ho didn’t even need to click on the linked pictures the site offered to know this was his western man. The one with the fascinating stare. 

In-ho had immediately checked and felt his heart sink as he read of Will’s fate. 

Dead. The same day as Hannibal. 

The article he had read had painted it as a murder suicide. The FBI agent destroying two serial killers before throwing himself to his own death. 

Another article said that Will had been Hannibal's lover and they had thrown themselves off the cliff as some sort of final joining of souls. In-ho had felt something deep in his chest after reading that. Something almost like regret. 

So, the man of his dreams was dead. And he…

Who was he?

Was he Hwang In-ho, an indebted game maker and apprentice to a rich man or was he Hannibal Lecter, a notorious serial killer back from the dead?

Was he both? Neither? Or something in between?

Il-nam had watched him in silence and In-ho could guess, the man knew some of his confusion. The old man had mentioned his own struggles with a similar experience as a reincarnated soul. 

"Have you figured out your purpose? The reason you are back?" The other man finally asked. 

In-ho glanced at the screen once more and the image of Hannibal, of himself, on it. 

Will was dead by his own hand. The one person who had fascinated him enough to sacrifice his life for. There was no return unless Will had also been reincarnated and that seemed unlikely. If there was a god, which he doubted, they would never be so kind as to allow him to be rejoined with the other.

But there was a purpose. He had dedicated so much of his life previous to creating art through the punishment of those who offended society. 

The games may not have the personal touch of Lecter’s work but they were still a way to get the message across. Still a way to control and take out his anger on the world. For Misha, his little sister. For Will, his beloved. 

In-ho didn’t know what his purpose was, or how he would ever join these two separate pieces of himself together but until he figured it out, he could find a purpose. 

Being In-ho, the Front Man of the games seemed like as good a start as any.

----

Yes, I know I have a problem. It's called 'I can't stop writing every random thought that comes to my head' hence why I made this blog, so I can write random stuff that may or may not make it to my actual fic account.

[whitenoisefanfiction]

Now I am getting into 457 hell, I have a serious question. How have I not found a Hannigram reincarnated as 457 fic yet?

I mean, when you think about it, there are so many parallels here.

Both have a pair where one is a clever monster trying to mentally break down the other, initally for their own amusement. Both have a refined character fixating on the trainwreck character. Both featured the trainwreck character being forced to witness someone important to them die in what was a strange suicide. Both have the trainwreck character being mentally changed by the refined character, bot have a lot of murders and last but not least, both have an important character development in 2015 (The hannigram cliff dive happened and In-Ho won his game, in the same year)

It almost writes itself (or I will have to write it)

Update- I did it.

[whitenoisefanfiction]

Let the Games Begin (I guess) - Part 2?

So somehow, I ended up writing a follow up to my weird little untitled (you get what you get, this is not a title, just a stand in) Squid Game fic I wrote on a whim last night?! Seriously, I am still only halfway through season one, so I have no idea what I am even doing in this fandom to begin with.

But now we have an actual hint of 457, curtesy of a very scummy VIP. If you want to see the first part, it is on my blog, just below this post here. Check that one out, I guess.

(And same as before, there are themes of SA and human trafficking in this fic. Be warned)

-----

The room was silent as the screen shut off, the remaining competitors being rounded up and returned to their dorm, lovingly dubbed ‘The Stables’ by the viewers while the guards completed the cleanup in the room where the Game had been held. Bodies had been taken away and blood washed off every surface.  

In their group, Eagle, Snake, Owl, Bear and Dragon stood in silence, digesting what they had just witnessed.

Normally, as soon as the game concluded for the day, these people would depart, either to the lavish rooms that were prepared for all of them for the duration of these games or departing the island and even the country for other destinations in the private helicopters. These people's time was worth a lot of money and none of them wanted to waste a single minute of it by being idle. 

And yet, this time, no one moved, all of them still staring at the screen, even as it changed from the rapidly cleaned carnage to show an updated list of the surviving competitors.

Finally, one of them moved, Snake stepping away from the group. But instead of making his way to the door with a polite nod as per custom, or to flag down one of the servants to replenish his empty drink, he turned to the small booth in the corner of the room, manned by the Dealers. The people responsible for controlling the large screens displaying the games and taking bets from the patrons. 

The Dealers had so far had little to do except answer questions, most of the patrons not foolish enough to lay down any bets until the games had progressed further and they could get a good idea of who was worth investing in. 

Which was why the chosen dealer started as Snake approached her. 

“I would like to make a bet.” Snake told her, resting his empty glass on the table before her workstation. 

She nodded and hurriedly pulled up his account on her tablet. 

“Of course. Go ahead Nim.” She replied, fingers poised over the screen.

“I would like to bet five billion won that player 456 makes it to the final game.” Snake said with a confident air.

The dealer's eyes widened in surprise. The bet was nothing more than loose change to the viewers but to the dealer, it was a massive amount for so early in the games. Normally, these sorts of bets were only placed for the very last game, when the odds of losing were a lot lower. 

“Are you sure?” She asked before her brain caught up with her and she clamped her mouth shut. Like all the staff here, it was not her job to question the patrons and what they did with their money. Only to make their wishes happen in any way she could.

Snake ignored the mistake and simply nodded, watching as she hurriedly entered the bet for him. 

“I will also bet one billion that player 120 will make it to the final five. She seems like the feisty sort.”

“Of course. Anything else?” The Dealer stated as she worked.

Snake turned to glance around him, aware that the whole room was watching his bold move. 

“Yes. I would like to open a supplementary game.” He said.

There was a murmur from the crowd. All of them knew what a supplementary game was. When a player showed a particular trait or oddity, sometimes the viewers would create their own internal bets based on the behaviour. Maybe it was some phrase the player tended to say or some tick, the viewers betting on how many times they would say or do it in the next game. Sometimes, if two players seemed to have a prior relationship, the viewers would bet on which one would betray the other. The supplementary games were not monetarily as profitable as winning the main game, but they had their place and were an amusing pastime for some.

There were some players in this crowd who would definitely make a supplementary game enjoyable. The junky rapper for his unpredictable and erratic behaviour could prove to have a high kill count. The mother and son could be amusing, simply to bet on who would outlast the other. The young lovers were entertaining, especially since there was a child in the mix.

“I can do that. Is it an open game or only for selected patrons?” The dealer asked, her fingers flying across her screen. 

“Open to everyone. I want to bet on player 456 and player 001.”

The dealer almost dropped her pad in shock. 

Everyone had noticed the inclusion of player 001 in the games. No one was certain who he was, as patrons were not allowed to know anything about their fellows and there was already speculation if he was a fellow viewer who had won an auction for the position in the game or if he was a staff member fixing something, but everyone had also noticed how he had leaned into player 456 during their trials. Whoever he was, he was clearly aware of the returned Champion and looking to win him over. No one was ignorant of the heated looks being shared between the two players.

Player 001 was also a performer, aware of how to put on a good show, his obvious sabotage of the spinning top game in the pantheon creating a delightful tension in the room for the other contestants. He was a good competitor and had he been a real contestant, he would have easily become a fan favourite to win.

But the rules of the game were clear. Patrons could not bet on player 001. It was impolite to wager money on their potential peers.

The dealer opened her mouth, as if to say as much but Snake beat her to it. 

“I bet that they are going to hook up before the fourth game.” He said confidently. There was a moment of stunned silence at his bold claim. 

“I'll take that bet.” A voice replied in the crowd, Dragon stepping out to stand with his fellow.

“No way. It will be a deathbed confession in the second last game when player 001 exits.” This voice was hidden in the crowd. 

“I think….” Owl said thoughtfully, staring at the screen nearest her and the still pictures of the players. “456 will make it to the end and 001 will buy him. No physical contact will take place until after the purchase goes through.”

“Not fair. 001 will be anonymous when he returns to us. How can we prove that he is the one who will buy the Champion, even if it is 456.” This voice was also from the crowd, which was becoming more and more vocal. 

Around the room, the servers and masked guards shifted nervously. They couldn't touch the patrons except in extreme circumstances but could feel the mood of the crowd change. To what, they did not know. Anger? Or maybe excitement. That never boded well, especially for the servers, who could easily become targets of drunken patrons.

“Are you all forgetting the rules here?” Another voice asked, breaking some of the tension. “It's not allowed to bet on 001.”

“We can do it until he exits the game.” Snake replied with a shrug. “As soon as he is eliminated, we all go silent. No one talks to anyone about it ever again. The dealer here can observe the outcome and discreetly deposit the winnings in the correct account without telling anyone. Am I correct, my dear?”

The dealer, looking panicky, nodded her head. 

“Excellent. Put the game through, open to all who dare enter.” Snake said, clapping his hands together, grinning at the dealer. “And to make it fair, I want one of the staff on a 24-hour monitored live feed on player 456. No exceptions. If the cameras lose sight of him even for a second, all bets will be forfeited, and I will make sure you answer for it.”

The dealer hurriedly nodded again and pressed a few buttons on her screen. The large screens around the room changed to show the Stables. Quickly, player 456 was located, holed up in a corner of the room with a small group of other contestants, deep in conversation. He appeared to be making allies. The viewers were delighted to see that 001 was sitting in the group, watching him with intense dark eyes.

Smiling to himself, Snake turned and walked back to the small group he had previously been acquainted with.

“A bold move.” Eagle said, nodding to the returning viewer, even as the rest of their little group took furtive glances at the screens, as if the bet would be won at any moment. Slowly, the two detangled themselves from the group, Snake following Eagle as he strolled around the opulent room.

“I thought some spice could be added, to make things a little more interesting.” Snake replied with a shrug. “It's not as if competitors haven't hooked up before, in previous games. It’s always fun to watch those vulnerable moments. The last goodbyes, if you will. In fact, I have a collection of them, if you would care to watch.”

“Indeed. But if what you bet comes to fruition, you may find yourself out bid in your attempt to acquire your desired Champion.” The other pointed out, ignoring the last comment pointedly. 

Snake shrugged. 

“I will deal with that when and if it happens. And if I am correct, then I will be entitled to the footage, at least. Besides, there are more ways to gain a prize other than to pay for it. No one said I had to play fair. Not here.”

“Hmmm.” Eagle muttered, glancing up at the screen himself, eyes fixated on the returned Champion. 

“Why?” Snake asked suddenly. For a second, he appeared uneasy. “What do you think will happen?”

Eagle remained silent for a long moment before he finally spoke. 

“When a man goes through hell and comes out the other side, only to then turn around and walk right back through those gates uninvited, it can only mean one thing. He intends to burn down the kingdom and everything within it. I think…. He’s planning to stage a revolt.”

—--

(Eagle is smart. Be smart like Eagle, not horny like Snake)

TBC? Maybe?

[whitenoisefanfiction]

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.

[whitenoisefanfiction]

So writers block got the best of me in regards to my 'IWTV' fixation and while scrolling on this hellsite, I fell into Squid Game hell. I haven't even finished season one yet but thanks to this site, I both managed to spoil the whole thing for myself and now desperately want to write a S2 457 fic from the VIPs points of view (just imagine them placing bets on the two of them during the games)

Curse my old fannibal heart for finding a new ship so like my old problematic favourites. Would that idea actually interest anyone?

[whitenoisefanfiction]

I had a bizarre dream last night in which Older Daniel Molloy ended up having a conversation with Younger Daniel in his home in modern day. Except one of them was Raglan James but I couldn't figure out who.

Apart from now really, really wanting Eric and Luke to share a scene in S3 (Or 4. I am not picky. But let's face it, Eric would be kickass as Raglan and Luke would rock it as either Old Daniel or Raglan) I am now considering using it as a bases to a body swap fic.

If I was to write sometime, would that interest anyone?

[whitenoisefanfiction]

I can't believe it's finally over!

The last chapter of my 70s 'Vampires are Known' AU Devils Minion story is up and it's a doozy of an ending.

Now I have to make a decision if I am gonna write the Loustat sequel, I set myself up for.

[whitenoisefanfiction]

Writing the next chapter of The Prince Armand and just had that lovely realisation that, while everyone is cursing out Marius for being a monster (rightfully so) after what happened in the last chapter, I have just introduced someone so much worse.....

(And no, it's not who you expect)

Everyone will hate me for this one.

[whitenoisefanfiction]

New chapter has been posted! Major things happen this chapter and we are finally nearing the end.

[whitenoisefanfiction]

New chapter alert! I can finally do this now that I have a blog just for my fics.

I can't believe how big this thing has gotten! Holy crap. Well, if you like 70s DM with a fun twist, this is (maybe) the fic for you.

[whitenoisefanfiction]

Now that I have a blog just for my writing, I have decided to put down all my current DM fics here, from my first (not so great) fic in this universe written before the end of season 2, to my current, 15 chapter WIP monster of a world build for anyone who wants to have a look.

First Fic

What is Left to yet Endure - White_Noise - Interview with the Vampire (TV 2022) [Archive of Our Own]

Summary: As the Interview ends, Daniel's condition deteriorates, and Armand has to plan.

Will the Devil always have his Minion?

Second Fic

The Night Will Come - Chapter 1 - White_Noise - Vampire Chronicles Series - Anne Rice [Archive of Our Own]

Summary: In 2024, our Vampires have finally settled and their coven is thriving. Until Lestat upsets an Elder Vampire who has access to a witch and Daniel bares the brunt of the attack. Can the Coven save Daniel? And more to the point, can Daniel survive in a time and place he knows about all too well, surrounded by a coven, or more accurately, a Theatre of Vampires?

(This one is bookverse, and not abandoned, I am just re-reading the books before I continue because I am not sure of the characters)

Third Fic

Habits of The Sleepless - Chapter 1 - White_Noise - Interview with the Vampire (TV 2022) [Archive of Our Own]

Summary: A look into the long history between the Vampire Armand and Daniel Molloy

AKA, Five Times Armand watched his favourite moral sleep and One Time he watched his beloved Fledgling wake up.

Fourth Fic (The current WIP and absolute BEAST! Holy crap, this fic is about to become the biggest thing I have ever written)

The Prince Armand - Chapter 1 - White_Noise - Interview with the Vampire (TV 2022) [Archive of Our Own]

Summary: In another world, Akasha's rise and death happened sooner. Vampires are now the dominant species, but humanity is fighting back.

Armand, the vampire Prince of the Damned, is trying to live his undead life under the thumb of Marius, avoid an arranged relationship and help his only friend Louis live through the abandonment of his maker. And the human Daniel Molloy is just trying to avoid the notice of any blood suckers, practice his craft as a reporter and maybe survive long enough to publish the biggest story of his life.

Their worlds are about to collide.

(Aka, another 70s era DM Chase Fic but with a twist)

[whitenoisefanfiction]

Hi everyone. I've finally decided to make a Tumblr just for my fanfiction and writing. People know me as White_Noise on A03. I will be slowly posting my work here as well. I dabble in a lot of different fandoms but am mainly active in the Marvel and DC comics fandom (particularly stories about the Bat Brats) and currently hyper fixated on IWTV and the Devils Minion ship. So expect all my vampire fics to be slowly posted to this blog.

Looking forward to talking with everyone.