#not a very wc heavy table of course i try 2 avoid making 2 much fanart merch. but. i did use the older halloween scourge 2 make a patch heh

[scourge-sympathiser]

SCOURGE SUNDAY 010/???

classic

[love-dreams]

pairing: hoshi x fem!reader

content: based off of the netflix show, the queen’s gambit, with different character names (check the masterlist!) - please note the original time period means lots of racism and sexism; adoption; drug misuse; anxiety and stress

wc: 5,897

note: this took awhile to finish, but i have a feeling that this will turn out to be a trilogy! hoshi and y/n finally are crossing paths next chapter :)) please let me know if you’d like to be tagged! HAPPY NEW YEARS YALL

recap: (Y/N) is a genius prodigy chess player who learned from Mr. Jihoon Lee, the orphanage janitor. The orphanage, Methuen, feeds the girls tranquilizers that help (Y/N) hallucinate chess moves. This allows her to “play inside her head.” At the end of the last chapter, (Y/N) had broken into the cafeteria’s storage and overdosed on drugs.

the queen’s gambit masterlist: 1 2 

Soapy water dripped off the mop’s wool locks to the cold, cement floor, leaving a bubbly wet trail on the floor. You cautiously avoided the reflected areas.

“Mr. Lee?” you meekly greeted. Your voice was low and hesitant as you inched toward his stout, hunched over figure. He kept on mopping, seemingly paying no attention to you. “I can’t play chess anymore. Kim said so.”

He paused for a moment, turning his head toward her. His cold eyes raked over your figure, but Mr. Lee still didn’t respond, choosing instead to return his attention back to cleaning the floor. 

Your chest tightened in remorse from your actions, but eventually, you took the hint and walked back to the moving train of students, disappearing into the masses. 

That would be the last time you and Mr. Lee ever spoke. 

Soonyoung remembered when he first played against the country’s champion. 

His name was Yoon Jeonghan. 

At the time, Soonyoung was still in high school, and Jeonghan was twice his age. He still looked as young as Soonyoung did, though, he noted sullenly. His younger step-brother, Chan, idolized Jeonghan, and for good measure. He was the undefeated champion for three consecutive years.

They played at the eye of a hurricane of onlookers. Reporters weren’t allowed to take photos, in fear of disturbing the duo chess players, but Soonyoung wouldn’t have heard the shutters snapping anyway.

The rush of blood to his head would have drowned out anything else. 

The first time Soonyoung played Jeonghan, he lost. Quite terribly, he remembers, but Chan assures him it was a close game. 

All he could remember was Jeonghan’s poise. His confidence. It radiated from him and into the fingers that moved his pieces. His intellect was far superior to Soonyoung’s at the time, honed by years of experience and studying. To Soonyoung, it felt like playing in front of a god, someone who was on a completely different level.

It was awe-inspiring.

Soonyoung played him two more times in two years. And then he won him in the third. 

In the middle of the day, seemingly out of nowhere, Mr. Jun interrupted your class, calling for you to follow him. Everyone in the classroom, including the teacher, stared at you expectantly. 

It’s not like you had any other choice.

Your heart rate gathered speed as Mr. Jun motioned for you at the doorway of the office. You cautiously ambled through the narrow hallway until you caught sight of two other people. One male, and one female. 

“Mr. and Mrs. Park, this is (Y/N)!” You had never heard the Headmaster’s voice sound so friendly. You almost reeled back in shock at her change in tone and demeanor. What a joke... you thought darkly.

The two adults turned to face her. “Yes, (Y/N) is thirteen years old,” Headmaster Kim paused for affirmation glaring straight into your eyes.

“Actually, I’m fiftee-” you trailed off, seeing the expression on Kim’s face. You cleared your throat to cough over your previous sentence, straightening up your back. “Yes, I’m thirteen. I’m thirteen years old.”

Kim smiled and the foreign scene caused you to shiver. If you found Headmaster Kim’s punishments scary before, you found her act of friendliness simply unnerving. “(Y/N) is at the top of her class in English, reading, and geography. She also assists with the local chapel.” You nodded along. “(Y/N) truly is the model Methuen girl.” 

You let your face be effortlessly played by your puppet master, painting on an innocent smile and crossing your hands formally. The woman, Mrs. Park, had a bright smile on her face that made you feel automatically welcomed and safe. The man, on the other hand, refused to even look at you. He had a newspaper outstretched in front of him, and his aura was just as cold as Headmaster Kim’s. 

The two opposites puzzled you, but you tried to keep your thoughts from showing on your face. You let your eyes take small peeks down at the couple as you continued to stand trough their talking. 

After what seemed like hours of negotiations and paperwork being passed from one person to another, Headmaster Kim finally let you go. You waited patiently outside the office, saying small greetings to the students passing you in the hallway. Just as you were trying to figure out what to make of the couple, the Headmaster, followed by the duo exited the office. 

You watched as they walked straight through the doors and to the car parked on the driveway in astonishment before noticing the tall figure walking toward her. 

Suddenly, you realized that the hall outside the cafeteria was deserted, except for you. Everyone else was inside, enjoying themselves.

Headmaster Kim bent down slightly so her face was closer to yours. You withheld the urge to flee on sight and retch in front of her.

“You should go pack.”

“You know it’s highly irregular for someone to be armed with a knife regularly, you know?”

“I have it for self-defense.”

“Against who?”

“Anyone.”

“You’re crazy, Soons. That’s not a legitimate answer.”

He shrugged. “I like control, like on the chess board. Having this knife with me is part of that, I guess.”

“So you’re a control freak.”

Soonyoung laughed, touching your shoulder gently. “I guess I am.”

That night was the same as all the ones before it. The sky was dark and so was the room. It felt too quiet to you, like there was an absence of something. The other Methuen girls hadn’t finished with class yet, but Kim had dismissed you early from school, not that you were complaining about that. 

It might’ve been the one nice thing she’d done for you.

You found Ruth in her adjacent bed, lying on her side. From the way she was acting, you’d guess that she hadn’t gone to class all day.

You set your open suitcase on the wrinkled bed sheets and started to fold all of your clothes with moderate care. You packed your shirts, your skirts, and of course, your chess books. The latter being the most important possession you ever owned. 

You ran a fingertip down the old spine of the book lovingly, creasing over any parts that were starting to jut out. You did this to every single book, running your own hands over the letters imprinted onto the leather

Slowly, the stack of books shrank until one last book was sitting on your bed. Your heart erupted into anxiety as you started to shuffle through your stacked clothes, opening all the drawers in the small bedside table.

“Have you seen my book?” you asked impatiently, panic slowly dripping into your voice.

Ruth cracked open one brown, chocolate eye, huffing as she pushed herself up. “Which book, cracker? You’ve got a dozen of ‘em.”

Your fists clenched in stress. “Modern Chess Openings, have you seen it?” you clipped, short and curt.

“Now don’t you go accusing me,” Ruth snipped back in annoyance. “I ain’t got any use for no book like that.” You sighed in defeat, letting your hands go loose. “Plus,” Ruth added. “You don’t need a book to play anyway.”

Your eyes dropped in shame to the ground, diverting your gaze. Your heart felt heavy all of a sudden: guilty. You hesitantly seated yourself beside Ruth’s still figure, letting your hand rest on top of your friend’s hip. 

“You know, I’m sorry.”

Ruth scoffed, but you could hear the raw huskiness of her voice. “Sorry for what?”

“That nobody wanted to adopt you,” you replied. 

Your friend didn’t respond for a few moments. 

“No one wants to adopt a black kid as old as me anyway,” Ruth finally said. 

“If you ever have kids, do you think they’d have to learn chess?”

“Well, I already have a kid and he plays just fine! Not as good as me, I guess, but he’s alright.”

Chan looked over his hamburger, cheeks slightly rounded as he chewed. “Wait, who is it?”

“I think you mean ‘who is he,’ right?”

Chan rolled his eyes and swallowed. “Yes.”

Soonyoung winked and rummaged through his coat pocket. “I think I have a picture of him somewhere...”

Chan craned his neck and body to see the small, pixelated picture on his cell phone.

“Oh, screw you, Soons. I’m not a damn kid.”

Soonyoung laughed, letting his voice roll over his vocal chords. He winked once more for good measure, feeling very pleased over Chan’s reaction.

“That, you are, kid brother.”

It was your first time riding in a car since you were nine years old, driving to the high school to play your first tournament of chess. You couldn’t help your fascination with the scenery outside of the black gates. Green strips of landscape flew by in a blur and color exploded in your retinas.

It was breathtakingly beautiful. So much so that you didn’t even have the capacity to respond to it. 

As the car entered the suburban neighborhood, you took time to study each individual house’s features: the window shapes, door colors, everything. You saw kids on front porches with their parents, people were everywhere. Unlike Methuen, the women wore colorful skirts and they were all different. 

When Mr. Park finally pulled up to the driveway, the whole situation’s magnitude hadn’t settled on your shoulders yet. Mrs. Park exited the car first, closing the door behind her and opening the door for you. She’s nice to do that for you, you thought. 

You followed Mrs. Park into the house, eyes scanning everything around you in pure fascination. 

It was when you were in the front living room of the house that you felt out of place with your dreary Methuen uniform. The windows were decorated with lace drapes so only a few bars of golden sunlight were shining on a muted primary rug that sat underneath a grand piano. 

“Well? Home sweet home,” said Mrs. Park breathlessly. She did a small twirl in the living room with her arms outstretched. You felt the small inklings of a smile.

Mr. Park cleared his throat behind you, startling you. Sensing his prickly displeasure, you moved aside hurriedly as the man walked past both women to a velvet maroon arm-chair. 

Jimin was a practical man, you could tell. He wore glasses when reading and a tie with his suit. He never seemed to take particular interest in being welcoming or loving to you unlike Chaeyoung. He seemed cold and disconnected to his wife and you and his stares were often condescending. You didn’t fear Jimin like Headmaster Kim, but you definitely didn’t like him as much as Chaeyoung.

“Ah,” Mrs. Park nodded. She clapped her hands together. “(Y/N), we should get you acquainted with your room!” 

Chaeyoung quickly whisked you away from the living room, guiding you up the carpeted stairs. You tentatively grabbed your suitcase, sending one last curious glance at Jimin before following Chaeyoung upstairs. 

Upstairs had more than one bedroom, much to your amazement. Methuen never had walls in between bedrooms. Chaeyoung kept walking down the hallway until stopping at the very last open doorway.

She gestured toward the inside as you moved to stand by her side. Your neck craned as you peered over the edge of the door frame. 

“You have no idea how hard it is to find good chestnut furniture,” commented Mrs. Park from the doorway. 

You took small, shy steps into the interior of the room. Then, you whipped around to face Mrs. Park. “Is this.. Is this all for me?” 

“Why of course!” Chaeyoung replied. “I should leave you alone for now. If you need any help, just call!”

Your heart swelled as she stood in the bedroom alone. The room was entirely covered in pink. Your bed covers were pink and on top, there was a light pink veil covering it. The carpets were fluffy salmon-colored. You set her suitcase down near the doorway before flinging your body onto the bed, bouncing upward slightly.

You laughed in amazement, scrunching your eyes in disbelief. You had a family, you had her own room. It was like life was repaying every loss you ever had, like something had finally gone your way. 

“You’re leaving for two weeks?”

Chaeyoung’s voice woke you up from your sleep. You looked out the window to see the married couple out on the driveway. Chaeyoung seemed to just have gotten up as well, dressed only in her nightgown and dyed hair still unruly. Jimin was in his normal attire and it seemed like they were in some sort of argument. You decided to eavesdrop a little, pressing your face to the glass pane.

“Yes. I’ve got some business in the Midwest, apparently. I could be there for weeks. Maybe a month.” Jimin got into the car promptly, shutting the door in front of Chaeyoung.

“Do you have to take the car?” Chaeyoung desperately asked.

“How the hell would I get anywhere without a car? You’re a terrible driver anyway.”

“You could get a rental,” she suggested.

“I’m taking the car with me, Chaeyoung.” He started the engine. “Remember what the doctor said?” His head turned to look his wife up and down. “Some exercise will do you good.” 

Then, the engine rumbled to life, carrying the car and Mr. Park away from the house. Mrs. Park physically sighed before slipping out of your sight. 

As you got dressed, there was a different sound replacing the cold voice of Mr. Park: the melancholy melody of an instrument. You let your feet drop on each stair step, your ears savoring the beautiful tune. A head of dyed hair appeared over the staircase railing and the piano. You held your breath, sitting down gently on the carpeted stairs.

“Stop staring over there, you’re making me nervous.” 

Chaeyoung’s voice cut through the piano’s noise. You broke out of your trance. You quickly walked down the stairs and into the living room normally. 

“You play beautifully.”

Chaeyoung’s lips upturned for a moment, but dropped soon after. The smile did not reach her eyes. Instead, it seemed broken and hollow, a deep sadness filling the woman. 

“I used to want to become a professional pianist.” Her fingers twitched into movement and music flowed from the belly of the piano. “But I had terrible stage fright, not the best for an aspiring professional,” she laughed dryly. You stood stationery, transfixed with Alma. “And then I got pregnant.”

“You had a child?” You blurted out, too shocked to even think through your question.

Chaeyoung’s finger slipped and dissonance jarred the entire piece into chaos. This time, she did not continue. Her eyes were downcast and her misery spread throughout the room. “We did,” she answered. 

You felt your throat close up. Maybe life just had a grudge with you after all. There was obviously conflict between Chaeyoung and Jimin and now you were in the middle of it.

Suddenly, Chaeyoung lifted herself and the same melancholy smile was directed toward you. “Would you like some tuna casserole? We have some left over.”

You shook her head, adamantly. The recent tsunami of new information was making you nauseous. “I’m good.”

“Do you want me to walk you to school?” she tried again.

“I think I’ll be alright,” you answered curtly. Chaeyoung sighed but didn’t force herself upon you. You had never been the most sociable person and you had no intention of creating more trouble for yourself. 

The school was a short walk away from home. Along the way there, the few straggler students walking on the sidewalk grew into an entire flock. Noise erupted from the open doors of the school building and you vaguely felt the hints of deja vu from her first encounter with outside students. 

During your free block, you got to work inspecting the school’s library. 

Your head turned left and right while watching some of the other students hurrying around in the room. There were sounds of giggling laughter between shelves and the light rustling of paper pages. Then, your attention turned toward the librarian in front of you.

“Do you have any books on chess?” you rushed out, uncomfortable in the swarms of people.

She looked up at you through her rounded glasses. The librarian slowly took them off to study you. “Sorry?”

You tapped your foot impatiently, feeling all sorts of embarrassed and shy. “Books on chess.”

“I don’t believe we do,” she pondered. “Oh! But if we do have any, they’ll be at the back shelf over there.” Your body instinctively started to move toward the direction she pointed, desperate to get out of this awkward situation. “There should be some books on Xu Minghao too.”

That name caught your ear. 

“Who’s that?” 

The librarian smiled, but looked at you quizzically. “Why he’s a grandmaster, of course.”

“What’s a grandmaster?” 

“A very, very good chess player.”

“(Y/N), would you be a dear and run down to the local pharmacy? I need to fulfill a prescription.” 

You automatically stood up from your bed and walked a few steps to the adjacent bedroom. Chaeyoung looked awful with her dry, dirty hair and blotchy red features.

She sniffled a little bit before reaching to her bedside table. “Here’s a note.”

Her hands were weak and skin and fat clung to the bones of her arm. You nodded with sympathy and carefully slipped the note from in between Chaeyoung’s frail fingers. 

You left the Park house shortly, hurrying down the street toward the town center. There were a few people there along with cars bustling down the road. Spotting the pharmacy’s sign over the store, you quickly crossed the street towards it. The door bell jingled as you stepped into the store.

Catching the owner’s attention, you slid the prescription note over the counter, tapping your fingers on the wood as he disappeared behind a shelf. 

You then took the liberty to look around the store while he was gone. You rotated your body until you found something on the side of the brick wall. 

“TIMES: CHESS MASTERS”

“And this is it,” he muttered. A small pill bottle was sitting on top of the wooden counter. You grabbed it, pocketing it in your dress. Your eyes were still fixated on the magazine. 

Reaching to grab it, a gruff voice suddenly stopped you.

“Hey.” It was the store owner. “Buying only,” he said, pointing to the sign above the magazine holders. Then, he turned his back onto you.

You nodded and on your way out, reached for a newspaper beside the magazine. You dropped a few coins onto the counter and strode with long confident paces.

The red outline of the magazine peeked from the pages of the newspaper.

“I think I might start giving you allowance.”

“Hm?” You murmured over the pages of the Times magazine. 

“An allowance,” Chaeyoung repeated. “It’s good for young girls like you to start learning how to manage your finances.” 

You blinked up at her. “Okay.” You rose from your spot and hurried up the staircase. “Can I go buy a chess board then? I think I might want to attend a tournament this weekend and I need to practice.”

Chaeyoung scrunched her brow, she was displeased. “I don’t want to discourage you from social events, but don’t you think there are better opportunities for girls like you to meet new friends? Like dance classes or something,” she suggested.

You sighed and looked down at Mrs. Park from the railing. “What did you do to socialize when you were my age?” 

You didn’t wait for her response and ran into your room. Hope fluttered in your chest as you opened the magazine again. 

“KENTUCKY CHAMPIONSHIP THIS WEEKEND. 10$ ADMISSION FEE.”

“I’ll be there,” you murmured to yourself. You rolled over onto your back to stare at the two green speckled pills on your bedside table. You swallowed them and waited. 

And waited.

And waited.

Nothing was happening. 

Finally, you jumped up on your bed and ripped off the pink canopy. Huffing in frustration, you threw the remaining, scratchy fabric onto the ground. You let your head rest on your pillow as transcendence settled over your body.

Familiar shapes soon began to fade into reality onto the ceiling.

The address on the magazine was a high school. People were bustling everywhere in the forum. You quickly found the registration table and walked towards it, careful not to bump into anyone along the way.

Two young-looking men were conversing when you walked up.

“Excuse me,” you said. 

They looked up at you. When they noticed your gender, they immediately smirked, clearly sleazy about a woman being in front of them. One of them leaned forward towards you. 

“Lost your way, lady?” 

You internally groaned at his condescending tone, wanting nothing but to walk straight out of the building. You let out a breath of annoyance.

“I’m here for the chess tournament?”

The two males glance at each other. 

“Well, do you have a ranking?” 

This time, the other man spoke. They looked like twins with their nearly identical outfits and slicked back, brown hair.

You shook your head. “This is the first tournament I’ve joined.”

Twin #1 scoffed and shook his head. “Then you’ll join the beginners bracket.”

What? 

“But I’m not a beginner.”

Twin #2 chimed in, his voice firm and unyielding. “Doesn’t matter, no ranking means you’re start as a beginner.”

Cooling yourself down, you started to think. “How long does it take for me to get a ranking?” you inquired.

“3-6 months,” Twin #2 answered.

Then, the perfect idea settled into your head. You started rummaging through your bag for the spare change. 

“Put me in the open then.”

“What?” sputtered Twin #1. “Are you crazy? There are professional players in that open. Lee Chan is going to be playing.”

“Who’s Lee Chan?” You ignored them and finally fished out the ten dollar bill. 

The both looked at each other again, sharing some kind of secret message in between them. 

Twin #1 sighed. “Do you have a clock?”

A clock? 

“No,” you answered faithfully.

“We have a clock sharing system. If you don’t have a clock, your partner will have one for you.” 

You nodded in response, still confused about what a clock was supposed to be doing in chess.

Twin #2 slid a sheet of paper to you. “Here’s your first round.”

You took it and promptly left the desk, feeling relieved that it was over.

“So.. do they usually put the girls together like this?”

“Huh?” 

There was another girl sitting in front of you. The only one, as far as you could tell. She had pretty curled brown hair and she introduced herself as Oh Seunghee. 

“I don’t know, are they supposed to put the girls together like this?” 

You looked around the empty gym filled with tables of chess players. You were seated right next to the coffee station.

“Well, they’re not supposed to,” she responded. 

Seunghee had an innocent smile and pretty, dainty fingers. 

“The chessboard is a battlefield,” Mr. Lee’s words rang through your head. “Naivety gets you killed.”

You nodded and looked over at the wooden framed clock to your right. “So, how does that work?”

“Oh, right!” Seunghee clapped her hands together excitedly. “So, once you make a move, I hit the button up there and your time starts to count down. Once the red flag falls, your time is up and you lose.”

“Seems simple,” you murmured. “And this thing?” You tapped the sheet of paper you got from the registration desk. 

“To track your moves. Afterwards, you circle the winner.”

You nodded and picked up the pencil to write your name in. “So I can start your clock now, right?”

Seunghee waved her hands, “Go ahead!”

You carefully clicked the metal button down, testing it. Immediately, the clock started ticking off the seconds. 

Seunghee moved her pawn forward and leaned on her clasped hands. Her big brown eyes stared at you with a hint of mischief. You nodded awkwardly at her gawking.

“Um, aren’t you supposed to hit the clock?”

“Oh, yes! Sorry. It’s just.. I’ve never played against a girl before.”

Your steps up were fast, the adrenaline rush from the chess game creating the perfect haze for you. You missed this. 

When you got to the top, you turned a sharp corner to the registration desk. The two sleazy men were still there. 

“What do I do with this?” 

You waved around the heavy card paper for dramatics. 

The twins looked around together. 

“That fast?” 

“Mhm.” You didn’t felt the need to verbally respond to the sleazeballs. 

“Just put it into the basket,” they sighed. 

Having nothing to do, you went back downstairs. Your eyes scanned over the empty tables and chairs that held only a few scarce players, a complete change from a couple minutes ago. 

Noticing a crowd, you walked closer towards a divider that had a sign reading, “QUIET PLEASE.”

You weaved your way through sweaty backs and chests until you could somewhat make out what was in the middle of all the commotion.

A chess game. 

In the middle was a table with two chairs and two players. Two male players, you noted. The setting seemed to be no different than any of the other games that played around you, making you wonder why this one attracted such a crowd.

You nudged someone close to you. “Who are those people?”

The man looked down at you in amusement mixed in with surprise. “That’s Lee Chan, the current state championship holder. And that’s Park Jisung, a rising chess player. Jisung’s the best of his town and his university.”

You nodded. Lee Chan.. you had heard that name before. At the registration desk.

“Is he a grandmaster?” you pointed abruptly. 

Chan’s eyes narrowed at you. “Sorry, could you quiet down over there?” 

You flushed with embarrassment and gauged the man’s reaction as well. He had a small small on his face when he glanced down at you as well. 

He leaned closer to you to whisper, ““Not yet. He’s working towards it though.”

“I want to play against him.”

“Not everyone can play him. You need to win all of your rounds and so does he.”

You remembered the book you’d checked out from the library. Then you remembered the Times magazine and Mr. Choi. And of course, Mr. Lee.

A grandmaster...

“You want to play Lee Chan?”

The twins had names: Hyunjin and Jinyuh. They reminded you of the high school players you beat during your time of at the orphanage. 

You nodded, not understanding why Jinyuh seemed so flabbergasted. “Is there anything wrong?”

Hyunjin scoffed, “You know you’d have to win all of your rounds in order to do that right?”

You remained nonchalant. “And I will.”

“No you won’t,” Jinyuh cut in. “You’d have to go through Joshua!”

“Forget Joshua,” Hyunjin chuckled humorlessly. “Your next round is Seungkwan and he’s way underestimated. He’s the captain of his college chess team and his team hasn’t lost a single tournament this year!”

You let out a sigh and grabbed the score card, leaving the twins speechless. Your pace was brisk as you walked toward the designated table for your round. Being doubted constantly was starting to get onto your nerves.

You tapped your fingers impatiently on the wooden table before a familiar face made you halt your motion.

“So I guess I’m your next round.”

It was the man from before. The one who was with you when Lee Chan was playing. This was Seungkwan?

“Um, yeah, I guess so,” you stuttered out. 

His smile was just as mischievous as before, however, this time it had a streak of competitiveness. 

Seungkwan adjusted his cuff sleeves and settled into his chair. His brief case rested next to him, leaning against the legs of his chair. 

He motioned for you to start his clock and you did. Leaning over slightly to push the rusty metal button down. 

The game was on.

The clock was still ticking down the time. There were roughly twenty tables set out around you, all of which were holding chess games. 

You didn’t waste time trying to count the tables exactly though. The man in front of you was providing enough entertainment. 

Seungkwan’s brows furrowed as he studied the board, cautiously making a move and hitting the clock.

Your hand moved automatically, pushing a chess piece toward its designated position in your mind. Seungkwan huffed. You grinned.

“Jesus, (Y/N), you’re humiliating my rook.” 

“He won’t have to suffer for much longer,” you murmured. 

Seungkwan’s eyebrow arched up as if coaxing you to tell him your strategy. You shook your head and motioned for him to return his move.

He sighed and slowly, slowly, tipped the white crown of his king to the board. 

“Alright, you got me there, (Y/N). I lose.”

You blinked. He forfeited? 

All of a sudden, a rush of deja vu hit you. You were reminded of one of the first games you had played with Mr. Lee. How ironic, you thought. Now I’m on the other side of the board.

Seungkwan extended a hand out to you. You daintily shook his hand, feeling shy from his act of sportsmanship. 

He bowed slightly and picked up his briefcase. “I wish you luck on your next rounds, (Y/N).” Seungkwan winked and then left in a blink. 

You followed him toward the cork board announcing all the pairings. You watched in satisfaction as your name went from the bottom of the board, to the top. 

It was getting slightly tiring playing four consecutive chess matches, but as you walked up the stairs toward registration, you figured that it was all worth it to see the look of pure shock on Hyunjin and Jinyuh’s faces. 

You stared at them expectantly, tapping your foot impatiently as you waited for your next pairing to be announced.

“You’re done,” Jinyuh sputtered. 

Your brow raised. You had won all your games, how was that possible? “What do you mean?”

“The games are done for today. The finals are tomorrow,” Hyunjin said. 

You nodded, satisfied with today’s results. “Thank you,” you replied and walked out of the forum, feeling even more confident when you realized that everyone’s eyes in the room were on you.

The clock ticked away as your fingers tapped against the table. Your eyes were everywhere in search, looking at every person standing around the chess board. Lee Chan was not here yet. 

You let out a sigh and kept tapping away. The empty chair in front of you taunted you. Your gaze kept darting to the clock mounted on the wall, the red seconds hand traveling in rotations. 

“Sorry about that,” Chan huffed. 

You turned your heads toward him, your gaze sharp and burning. If he was bothered by it, he didn’t show it.

Chan shuffled in his chair for a few seconds before leaning in on his elbows. “Ready?” he asked, a grin on his face.

You let out a small scoff and leaned to start his clock. 

It was a long game and long made you stressed. You weren’t used to this level of competition and it was starting to get to your head. It was harder to predict Lee Chan’s moves and counter them, almost like your eyesight was fogging up and blurring. 

“Excuse me,” you gasped out before racing towards the bathroom. The crowd parted like the sea when you moved. 

You splashed water all over your face before reaching into your pocket for your reassurance. Your tranquility. Your fingers fumbled with the pill bottle before tipping it forward. Pills tumbled into the palm of your hand. 

You dumped all of them back in except for one and swallowed the green pill without a second thought. You let out a relieved pant and let your breathing stead. 

As you slowly raised your head at the mirror, you stared at the reflection, memorizing each flutter of movement on the bathroom ceiling. 

When you exited the bathroom doors, your sight was back, zeroing in on the chess board. You sat down in the chair and moved your piece swiftly. 

Chan’s brows raised in concentration as he leaned further in. 

The next few moves were all just as swift as the first one. Your strategy was played with no hesitation and as the end game drew near, Chan was starting to catch up.

Unfortunately, his pieces were still too behind.

“You see it don’t you?” you murmured, staring at him with widened eyes. 

Chan was sweating now. He kept shifting in his seat and breathing heavily. “I can get out of this.”

“No you can’t. If you avoid my bishop, I’ll just take with the r-”

“Move!” Chan spit out. 

You sighed, rolling your eyes, but complied. 

The game played on into the end game. As you closed in on the king, you were two steps away from it. Your heart sped up in giddiness, feeling the sweetness of adrenaline on your tongue. 

Chan’s voice broke through the illusion.

“Draw?” he whispered. 

Your heart stopped. A draw? Your eyes whirled to the bystanders around you, some of which were now muttering underneath their breath. Your eyes rested on the familiar face of Seungkwan. His eyes were swirling with a mischievous mirth.

“No,” he mouthed at you, shaking his head.

You nodded, a smile returning to your face. “No way.”

Chan huffed, bracing himself against the table. He threw down his king.

The crowd erupted into applause as Chan walked away from the board. 

You had won the state championship.

“So, I heard you lost your… whatever tournament that was.”

Chan sighs, “It was the state championship, damn it. What the hell are you doing here?”

Soonyoung grins and leans back in his chair. “C’mon, Chan. We’re family, remember? Don’t big brothers check up on their siblings’ interests and stuff?”

Chan glances up at him bemusedly. “Is chess the only interesting thing you ask about?”

“Hm,” Soonyoung pondered. “I don’t know about you, but it sure is for me. Say, what was her name? I think I saw it in the newspaper somewhere…”

“(Y/N) (L/N),” Chan grits. It was an embarrassing defeat on his part and celebrating his loss with the country’s champion wasn’t helping. Smirking, Chan decides to take a little bit of petty revenge. “I think she might beat you.”

“Oh ho!” This caught Soonyoung’s attention. “The girl who beat you?” He immediately sits up straighter, his eyes ablaze with competition. “Hm, is she coming to Vegas?” 

“Probably.” 

“Well then, we’ll just have to see. All in due time, right?”

Chan chuckles, “She might not go, though. You never know. And if she does go, I hope she beats your ass. Jeonghan’s always saying you got it coming.”

Soonyoung lets out a dry chuckle. “Now I’m intrigued by this mystery lady. However,” he pauses and contemplates his next words. 

Chan looks up at him suspiciously, “However, what?”

Soonyoung grinned. 

“I don’t plan on losing my title just yet.”

Chess was a game of delicacy. Like a pyramid of stacked cards, there was a method and a strategy to complete it. Missing a step meant a pile of lost cards on the table.  

“You were too caught up with double pawns last game. You’ll win this one, (Y/N). You have to.”

previous part: here

next part: here (unavailable) 

tag list: @haotheheckk​ @gryffindor-jun​

[ajax-b1ue]

Suspension of Disbelief: Ch 7

2018 Big Bang Fic Challenge Submission Amazing Artist, Big Bang Partner, and Header Creator: @ahoardofsides​ TW: Villainous Deceit, angst, manipulation, gaslighting, self-deprecation, self-harm, anxiety attack, violence, blood, attempted murder Pairings: Platonic LAMP WC: 2426

( Master | AO3 | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | Chapter 7: Love’s Labours Lost | 8 | 9 )

Roman was aware of being awake before he opened his eyes. It only took a moment to realize he was on the couch, shirtless, and tucked under a comforter. His shoulder was bandaged but pain still shot through it when he shifted.

There was no moment where Roman didn’t remember exactly what happened.

He didn’t know how long he laid there, trying to cling to the last vestiges of sleep, because opening his eyes— admitting he was awake— meant confronting the reality of what happened. That thought was immediately followed by another: pretending is what caused this whole disaster in the first place. Roman’s stomach flipped, his hands and expression tightening, and he realized that he wasn’t alone when he heard Patton’s quiet voice asking, “Roman?”

Still he hesitated, still not able to bear the thought of facing the others. But he could hear Patton’s footsteps bringing him to Roman’s side, the scraping of a chair as he sat. Roman wanted to shrivel up and disappear. Instead, reluctantly, he opened his eyes, blinking up at the moral side.

Patton gave a small smile, but his eyes were full of something far more serious. Roman was struck by a very Virgil-like desire to pull the blanket up over his head— then his heart lurched, and all he could choke out was, “Virgil—”

Patton quickly gripped Roman’s arm and assured him, “He’s okay! See?”

Roman craned his neck to see where Patton was pointing. He was startled to find Virgil curled up in the recliner past the end of the couch, still missing his hoodie, and arm still in a sling. It appeared that Virgil had been asleep, but upon hearing his name called out, he started to rouse. As he did, his eyes met Roman’s, and Roman recalled— his arm locked around Virgil’s neck, his blade at his throat, Virgil’s pleading whisper—

Roman flinched, closing his eyes and half-burying his face in his pillow, never mind the pain the sudden movement brought him. There were a few seconds of silence in which Roman was certain Patton and Virgil were exchanging a look.

Patton’s soft voice broke the silence. “I’ll get Logan.”

Roman knew this was inevitable. Of course they would want to know what happened, how this could have happened. He owed them whatever explanations they demanded of him, but Roman didn’t see any way things could ever be okay between the four of them again. 

Then Patton returned with Logan. The two of them spoke first, soft and hesitant. They related the aftermath of the fight— reiterating that Virgil was all right, assuring Roman that he would be as well, though (like Virgil) his wound was not insubstantial— and that they’d shut Deceit in his room.

But then, Logan quietly prompted Roman. “We need your account… even if only a cursory one… of what led up to Deceit being able to take control of you.”

The creative side could feel his heart sink down into his stomach. But he knew, he couldn’t deny them this.

And so, Roman told them how Deceit had manipulated him. His explanation was slow and halting; he stuttered through it at points, stumbling over his words which felt thick and heavy in his throat.

Through the whole thing, he avoided eye contact with any of the others, instead casting his gaze towards the floor, or his blanket, or just about anything except them. This was how he noticed the piece of parchment sitting on the coffee table, bearing his by-now-forgotten idea and a sparse handful of notes… written in blue.

The discrepancy startled Roman enough to make him fumble his words again. He had to force his train of thought back on track, though he didn’t miss Logan’s forehead wrinkling, or that the logical side’s eyes flicked down to the piece of paper and back up to him.

Finally, Roman managed to get through it all, up to the point where Deceit had him completely under his control, and there he choked. But the others didn’t have to prompt him any further; they already knew the rest. 

The other sides exchanged significant looks with one another; Roman kept his head down. He didn’t want to see. Instead, downtrodden, he berated himself quietly. “None of this would have happened if I had just swallowed my pride and come to you all for help in the first place, instead of shutting myself away.”

Then, plaintively, softly— because he couldn’t handle them hating him, and had to try to explain, even though it was just making excuses and sounded pathetic and petulant in his own ears— Roman murmured, “I… I did try. To talk to you, a few times. …I obviously did a very poor job of it, but, I tried,” he trailed off in a whisper. “You just always seemed so… irritated with me. Like you wanted me to stay away.”

“That’s not true!” Patton immediately insisted, dismayed.

Logan offered, “Quite the opposite, in fact. You always seemed excessively irritable towards us.”

Roman again wished he could shrink and disappear. And yet, he couldn’t help but remember— “But… you all kept making those comments… muttering under your breath, like I couldn’t hear you…” he started, only to be met with confusion.

He hesitated. Roman knew how accusatory his words sounded, and what right did he have to accuse them of anything? Just shut up. Just forget it. But part of him still ached to know— if they hadn’t been trying to shut him out… then why? He turned and looked at Virgil, a note of desperation creeping into his voice. “You even said… with me gone, ‘things were actually peaceful around here for once’…”

Logan and Patton immediately turned to look at a wide-eyed Virgil, who spoke for the first time since Roman awoke. “I never said that!”

Roman’s eyebrows furrowed. “So, I just imagined it?”

As soon as the words tumbled from Roman’s lips, though, a very real and awful possibility occurred to him. But he had little time to consider it, as Virgil addressed the one thing that Roman had been dreading: “Speaking of imagining things… you want to talk about this?” He gestured to his injured arm. 

Roman quailed. He realized, now, that Deceit had played him badly, making him see Virgil as a villain who sought to hurt the others and who needed to be thwarted— while in truth, his fellow side had just been upset and scared.

When Roman didn’t answer, Patton gently prompted him. “Was Deceit controlling you then?”

Roman’s face screwed up in misery, but he shook his head once.

Virgil shifted in his chair, gripping his left arm more tightly with his right hand. His face was an inscrutable mask.

Roman was barely able to press on in a shaky whisper. “Deceit made illusions… made me think… I heard you screaming— I didn’t realize—” Roman couldn’t finish, bringing his hands to his face. Virgil raised one incredulous eyebrow at Roman’s explanation, but remained silent.

Logan chose to speak up, then. “…I would reason, if I may… that Deceit was able to influence what Roman saw and heard when he interacted with the rest of us, even before then. Maybe not much,” he posited. “A look here, a word or two there—” He gently placed his fingers on the parchment bearing Roman’s idea, considering it. “Just enough to put Roman on the defensive, and cause him to react more harshly than he normally would. And…” He pulled his hand back. “It certainly didn’t help that we responded in kind.” Logan glanced over at Patton, then amended his statement. “…I… responded in kind.”

Patton’s expression was all too understanding and sympathetic, and Logan’s eyes fell to the floor, fingers fidgeting where they were folded in his lap. 

Virgil broke in, “Not just you. It was both of us.”

Patton took that opportunity to ask, “But why was it only Roman? Why didn’t Deceit try to do the same to all of us?” He looked to Logan, clearly hoping the logical side had an answer. “Or better yet, how was Deceit able to do all those things in the first place? He’s never been able to before.”

“Yeah,” Virgil jumped in. “Like being able to completely control one of us??”

Logan tried to be very careful of how he responded, but at length he said, “I think it’s possible that… Deceit is stronger when he is around Roman.” His gaze flicked over the side in question again. “…Even able to draw power from him. Which, would also explain why he spent so much time lingering in Roman’s room.”

Roman surprised them all by cutting back in, sounding sick. “He said, he ‘needed me’.” 

The creative side then hid his face in his hands again, now burning with shame and questioning his every interaction with the others.

“Oh God, how could I have been so utterly stupid? Patton, bringing me lunch? Logan trying to talk about my idea? The idiotic argument that started this whole accursed thing? Did that even happen, or did Deceit just fool me into thinking it did??” 

“…No, that… happened,” Logan answered. “So did the other times, for what it’s worth.”

“Y’know, Roman,” Patton started, taking a breath in. “I think Deceit just saw an opportunity and decided to take it.”

“An opportunity I gave him,” the princely side mumbled.

“Roman,” Patton cut in. “Families are bound to get into disagreements. Even argue, sometimes.” He reached out, gently placing a hand on Roman’s elbow. “That fight was no more your fault than anyone else’s.” Here, Patton’s expression faltered. “…What Deceit did do, was keep us from making up and coming back together.”

“He had to know there was no way he could face the four of us, united,” Logan murmured. “In order to have any chance of success, he had to keep Roman isolated from the rest of us.”

“And for that…” Patton’s eyes locked with Roman’s, and Roman realized that they were glassy. Patton shook his head. “I’m so sorry, Roman. You should never have had to deal with this by yourself.”

Roman couldn’t keep holding Patton’s gaze, and looked away. “It’s not as though I gave you much choice,” he deferred. “I’m the one who shut myself away.”

“And we shouldn’t have let you do it,” Patton insisted, teary eyed. “We should have been there for you, and we weren’t. And I’m sorry.”

Roman had to blink away tears of his own, scrubbing at his face with the back of his arm. Silence filled the room once more, none of them quite sure what to say next.

After a minute, Patton rose from his chair, starting to move towards the kitchen; Logan touched his shoulder. “It’s been a long and trying night, for everyone… we all need rest.” He cut off Patton’s expected protest with, “You, included.”

“You can’t seriously be suggesting we leave Roman alone?” Patton asked incredulously. “Or Virgil, for that matter.”

Roman’s heart raced at that thought, fear creeping up through his middle. He was out of immediate danger from his wound, but the idea of being left by himself, even knowing that Deceit had been thwarted and shut in his room…

Logan headed off that line of thought. “Not precisely. I thought it might be more prudent to set up some cots here in the living room.”

Patton brightened a little at that. “Like a—”

“Sleepover, yes,” Logan acknowledged, voice suggesting that he was humoring Patton.

“I was going to say, ‘slumber party’,” the moral side offered. Logan just made a flat noise, earning a grin from Patton, though it was tired. 

Roman kept quiet, settling into a sort of numbness, watching the activity around him as Logan and Patton set up cots and pulled out linens. The strangest part was that at moments, things sounded almost normal. Even Virgil, silently curled up in the armchair, wouldn’t have been so out of place. Just give him his hoodie and a set of headphones and he’d look totally natural… except for the tension in his frame, and the way he stared blankly at the wall directly opposite from Roman.

Blood loss and exhaustion— physical and emotional— caught back up with Roman soon enough. With nothing to occupy him, he started to drift, the sounds of the others moving around quietly lulling him to a mercifully sleepy state. 

Finishing making up a bed for himself on one of the cots, Patton glanced over at Roman, caught between the desire to check on him and to let him rest. He instead grabbed a blanket and pillow from their pile and made his way over to Virgil who he knew was just going to want to sleep in the recliner. He was brought up short by seeing the anxious side holding his head, rubbing at his temple with his thumb, mouth drawn.

“Virge— are you okay?”

“No,” Virgil answered readily. That brought Patton and Logan’s full attention round to him. Before they could ask, though, Virgil told them outright: “Someone’s got to go talk to Thomas.” Virgil had been uncomfortably aware of Thomas’s growing distress; it hadn’t been a good time for any of them to leave before, but now it was close to reaching a breaking point. “He’s going to give himself another panic attack if this keeps up.”

Logan and Patton spent a minute talking quietly with each other, trying to decide who would be the one to go; both were reluctant to leave.

Restless (and trying not to be irritated), Virgil ended the debate by insisting, “Both of you go. I can watch Princey.”

Logan gave him a dubious stare. “You have one functioning arm and leg.”

“Oh is that what happened, I was wondering why it hurt every time I tried to stand up.”

“Virgil—”

“It’s fine,” he told them. The looks he was getting told Virgil he wasn’t fooling anyone. He sighed. “You’re just going to talk to Thomas. And I’ll call you back if anything happens. Just don’t take forever.” 

The moral and logical sides exchanged a look, before reluctantly giving in. After a little more fretting, they finally sank out together, leaving the common area in silence once again.

Virgil at last looked over at Roman. He could see how pale the creative side still was, how his face was drawn, even when he wasn’t awake. Virgil sat there, listening to Roman’s breathing, and after a long moment let out a protracted breath of his own, leaning back into his chair.

[fmlfpl]

Lineup Lamentations - GW22 - Happy New Year Edition

Our Transfers, Captains, and Starting 11s for the week.

Extra long lambs this week because it’s a podless GW and I guess we have many things to say as well as many doubts. Ok here we go :)

WALSH

TRANSFERS:

OUT: Lukaku GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY TEAM, Paul, and RLC

IN (For -4 points): Quaner, Alli, and Eriksen

The Jesus injury gave me some pause over the plan to go heavy on Spurs attack for the double but in the end decided meh fuck it. I can always go for Aguero after he plays Liverpool if it seems a prime thing to do. A little bit worried about City scoring for fun without Dilva and possibly without Kevin. My team would still have the same problem of being thin if I did go for Aguero in for Lukaku so am gonna restructure and get in there with a big move this week for the double.

Alli was automatic as I've been feeling how he's been looking lately. Eriksen v Son was a close one for me. Son explosive, but has the slight shout of being rested whereas Eriksen seems pretty nailed regardless. Going to go for the minutes play here. Little bit of nostalgia for me as well getting in Alli and Eriksen who were in my GW1 squad and did me well back in the day.

I am a bit worried about Quaner playing this GW but at this point I just want to get the cheapest guy possible and he seems a good first choice lad. Also feel like Huddy aren't the hugest shout to significantly reinforce in the transfer window in attack so hopefully he keeps it up.

I'm keeping Stephens over RLC for the simple reason that RLC could be knocked and miss out. Points this GW feels enough of a reason to keep Stephens over RLC. RLC looks like a really bad FPL pick with Benteke in and him playing in a more reserved role anyway so he's off. Had a couple of tidy returns for me so thanks bro but see you later.

GK:

Adrian goes. Woah. First non-Pope time at GK for me for a long fucking time. Feels weird but also good. DGW keeper always a good guy to have and WBA at home seems as good a clean shout as you can have at this moment. If he gets 8 or so points it would be very nice.

DEF:

Five at the back again for me. Triple Chelsea defense are in as per....Christensen, Azpil, and Moses....which much to my fucking nightmare was only 1 Chelsea defender in GW21 after Conte subbed Moses before 60'.... it’s their first difficult on paper fixture since I've gone with the treble. But, looking at how fucking shit Arsenal have been a clean doesn't seem that insane here.

Phil Jones god and legend of the baps is the most auto thing of life. Preached patience with United defense on the last pod and it came in straight away which was tidy. Everton are the worst attack possible so fuck them. Clean seems likely.

Last guy is the Dunk of Lewishire. Dunk and BHA defense has been a massive unheralded star of the FPL season for me and any of you who have been rotating a BHA defender for some time. They welcome the completely rudderless and injured to fuck Bournemouth side. Get in Lew my absolute son.

MID:

New old friends Alli the middle fingering diving cunt is back in alongside Eriksen. Not sure how long I'll keep, or who will get fucked off first, but Coutinho will be coming in soon for one of these lads. Just bought lottery tickets in Spurs attack and if they are able to put in between 5-7 goals over the two games I'll be absolutely BUOOZZINNNNN and also probably flying. Kill to fly, fly to kill.

Salah looks like he's a little bit dead, but since I bought him at 9m removing him was not even a small consideration. Will just have to rely on the bench if he doesn't go.

Finally, Raz is in and looks a dead cert for a start after not featuring today. Good guy Raz.

FWD:

Just the solitary Harold this GW. Standard 541 here at FMLFPL HQ nothing to see lads.

BENCH ORDER:

Quaner, Stephens, Niasse.

Bunch of lads. Who knows who will play and who will not play but I have three guys on the bench so getting a full team out looks very likely. Good job by me.

CAP:

TRIPLE CAP Kane.

It's time for me. I want to use the chip on Kane and the fixtures are as good as you can hope for. No assurances that Spurs will have another DGW and even though there is 1 day off between I am willing to take the risk using the chip this GW. It will allow me to pump the WC the week OF a future DGW instead of the week before which is pretty tidy and honestly I think we overrate the chips a LOT. Sure they are good, but it's not the end all be all of life.

I think illness whatever is dumb and I'm willing to risk that he will make it for both games. He's on fucking form and has just had a nice rest. Harry will Harry, triple cap will triple cap. Let's go Kane drink the nectar of the hat trick gods and keep pumping the goal with your jizzum.

ALON

TRANSFERS:

OUT: Richarlison my love and Lejeune the fuck

IN (For my second -4 of the season): Arnie and Ogbonna

Are you not supposed to have a bevy around a recovering alcoholic? I’d imagine not. Or smoke fags around someone trying to quit? Probably poor form, that. But here we are. I’ve been enabled... :)

I took a hit, my first hit of the season last week, and it resulted in a net +6 points (including the -4) and a nice green arrow. MY BLOOD IS PUMPING IN THIS MOMENT!!!!!!!

Hit #2 quickly followed today and oo baby I’m feeling nice... My hands were shaking and I had the cold sweats with a beautiful woman in the nude calling out to me... but I slighted her and instead looked up West Ham defensive statistics and compared Arnie to Lanzini for a couple of hours and took the -4; the only thing that’s real...........!!!

Richar my beautiful Brazilian lover our fling has flung. Obrigado for the points mate but you have City and there’s a double gameweek on the cards. Two fixtures, albeit one of them bad vs. Spuds, and I just had to go for Arnie.

Lejeune being dead in what will be the most heavily rotated GW of the season with Salah already ruled out and RLC probably missing out lead me to the second transfer and the -4; I just needed some fucking guys. The upside is there to make up the -4 so I’m tagging along with everybody else and it leaves me with four doublers for the DGW which feels pretty nice. So let us go.

GK:

DDG and United up against the Eve feels like as easy a cleansheet fixture as you can get. Tidy 7 pointer from him last GW and faith restored.

DEF:

Kicking off with Jones up against the same blues of Eve should be easy workings. And you know he’s Phil Jones king of the fucking BONES. 9 pointer what else is new. Good to have you back Philip.

Otamendi straight the fuck in last week with an 8 pointer as he seems to do every week. Took the shittiest ass pen from Milivojevic but I will happily cash those points in. Ota such a great pick - maybe a double up on the way soon with Stoner. Would make a lot of sense to not keep clean here with like a Richarlison brace or something since I transferred him out but ya know, whatever.

Christensen I have starting but who knows if Conte will follow suit. No one knows a thing about Christensen our Chelsea darling boy and if he can find a way into the 11 but we can hope. He’s top quality but blah - it’s concerning - getting another Chelsea defensive asset is at least 1 million away so it’s fucking hard to do. Come on BOD get in there bro. I don’t care it’s Arsecast, you start Chelsea defenders confidently in all fixtures. That’s how they do it.

Lastly new lad Ogbanzo beans should go twice for me. If they clean against West Brom will just be suuuuuch a huge boost of life. If he’s on 2 or less points going into Spurs will feel sad and bad. Meh. Never know. Two bites of the apple get me something Oggy.

MID:

Gonna start with the man the myth the Egyptian fucking god legend Momo Salah. He’s in - of course he’s in would be foolish and disrespectful to bench him - but Klopp has ruled him out for 2ish weeks which is a bummer. So he’ll probably be back for Man. City but we’ll get more autosubs in this week. At the end of Lambs we’ll each post our benches too since it’s going to be rotational hell.

Raz goes straight in Home Watford sexual fixture on the table - didn’t start earlier today so should be in vs. Watford and hauling as usual. Although we’ll see how good/bad City’s attack looks with no Kev and no Daveed (who knows with Daveed).

SUON my Korean boo, my differential treater, been a huge part of my run of greens these Heung-Min points. Got a double fixture on the cards for this GW and I’m just hoping for a combined more then 90 minutes - that’s all we can realistically hope for. And he’s been fantastic. Love him. Should bring in some points.

And Arnie the new guy in the squad. Scary to transfer in a guy who you might want to transfer out very very soon - never feels quite right - but he’s got a double this week and is bang on form starting OOP up top. Lots of shots and big chances and creating shit and touches in the box - TIT ME ARNOLD ARNAUTOVIC!

FWD:

Two guys leading the line in this moment. Alvy Morata the absolute shit-house I don’t know how fucking hungover he must’ve been to not get anything in a 5-0 thrashing but fucking hell. At least I didn’t cap him and avoid that nightmare but I still rate him - but it’s troubling. He might have to go soon. For now I’m just chilling he’s still a good pick and nailed and whatever. Arsecast can’t defend much.

The other guy is Lord Harold of Kane. He’s an absolute must this week - the most must of any guy in any week that I can remember. He was sick a few days ago he’s probably fucking fine. Maybe I’ll be awake until 5-6am and see some sort of additional news but even without the news I think Kane is fine. I expect somewhere around 150 minutes from him this GW and with those fucking fixtures that is pretty insane to think that he will not at least double return... I mean no one is guaranteed points but fucking hell Harold is a great horse to bet on.

BENCH ORDER:

I’m sat on Duffy, Quaner, RLC in this moment.

RLC is a problem and think he should be third on most benches. Duffy good shout at a clean probably coming in for Mo and then Quaner likely to get some minutes even he doesn’t start for a one point cameo if anyone else is rested/rotated in my team. Feels fine.

CAP:

DON’T YOU MEAN..... TRIPLE CAP!?!?!!?!??!?! OOKKKKKKKK LET’S FUCKKKKKKKK IT’S ON BABABYBABBBABABABY!!!!!!!

You already fucking know. Kane the most nailed cap of any life but Triple Cap - I’m going there - fuck it. I’m here I’m there...

Earlier today I really wasn’t feeling good about the triple cap - mostly just apprehension that everything is coming too fast and I’m gonna fuck something up. It’s been a crazy festive period and I’m just like ok, I need to chill, the green arrows are flowing, I just need to fucking chill.... But fuck that shit.

I struggle to come up with any STRONG arguments to NOT triple cap Kane and that’s where we’re left. The only two arguments to not triple cap Kane are:

1. Only one day off between fixtures - can he really play significant minutes in both with one day off.

2. Illness gate / yellow flag / no news.

But those are fucking REEEAAAALLLY weak arguments for me. Illness gate I mean that was a few days ago now. He’s probably fucking fine and not sick anymore like an asshole - and he has Monday off as well to rest up. And speaking of rest up I think he’ll just have to play 70ish in both (maybe more if they’re not winning) and tough it out because he’s not a fucking baby he’s a fucking man. And he’s resting now and he’ll rest after.

The arguments FOR triple capping him in my opinion are pretty overwhelming. Best guy, check, incredible form, check, most important player for the team, check, on pens, check, exceptional fixtures, check... What more do you want? Goal involvement, check, mouth breather, check, childhood GOONA, check, one season wonder, check, golden boot merchant, check.

LET’S GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!