#plot;

[aniceguy]

[A grainy video goes up at some point in the night. Diluc is toasting the crowd one last time. He’s in the middle of talking about Windblume and the importance of Mondstadt and its people.

He finishes up by wishing everyone a good evening and a safe trip home. Just when it seems to be done, he clears his throat and glances toward whoever seems to be holding the camera.]

“Also, I am gay, please do not send me flowers. Thank you. Good night.”

[tarakhshaqun]

Despite his spoken support of Wynne, Leon can't help hollering and cheering when Raihan steps onto the pitch. Thanks to his own time in the spotlight, he's got a formidable set of lungs and actually stuns the people around him in the crowd. He only really gets a hold of himself when he tries to say husband and rival at the same time and yells "THAT'S MY HUZZAL!" loud enough to give the people next to him a headache.

After that, he's silent, itching with anticipation for Wynne's entrance. He even catches himself holding his breath when the fireworks go off, and experiences a moment out of his own body, half expecting to blink and find himself down there on the grass when he opens his eyes again.

But he's still in the stands, even when the smoke dies down, and no one joins Raihan on the pitch.

The confusion in the crowd is immediate, as is the formation of a pit in his stomach. Is Wynne okay?

He doesn't have anything to say to Sonia and Claude's bewilderment, either. Even if he did have an explanation, his words stick in his throat.

Part of Leon wants to run down to Raihan, or the locker room to check on Wynne, but he stays. He checks his phone after a moment's thought, hoping to find a message from Hop -- he'd know what's going on. But there's nothing.

Minutes pass, tensions rising. There are people beginning to get irritated -- tickets to the biggest sporting event of the year aren't cheap, after all. The announcer apologizing for the wait and insisting that the match will start soon doesn't reassure many, either.

The longer they wait, the more dread fills Leon. It's clear, soon, that he didn't do enough. Wynne is either too afraid to come out of the locker room, or too afraid to even enter the stadium today.

His phone buzzes, almost 15 minutes after the Champion doesn't show. It's Hop, after all.

He should have seen it. He shouldn't have believed them the other week when they said they were fine, even after tabloids tore them to shreds over their taking some time to breathe. He should have done more to build their confidence, to support them, to keep the media and the League off of their back. He should have --

dinnae be cross wit them, the message reads.

How could he be? Leon has always known the pressure Galar places on its Champion is too much for a child.

He responds that he isn't, and asks after Wynne. Hop says they're okay. Leon doesn't believe it fully, but thanks Hop anyway. He pulls up his chat history with Wynne immediately afterwards, and pauses, sympathy for them welling painfully in his chest. He manages to compose a short text before they have to begin dealing with things at the Stadium.

its ok, wynne. ill take care of things here. get away from all this. have fun.

[profpromoted]

[Sonia’s lucky, in that Nessa’s gym is open for the holiday. Luckier, in that she’s able to blend into the crowd relatively easily, entering the gym as if she were one of the many revelers. The staff seems distracted enough that they don’t pay much mind to the obscenely large backpack and duffelbag that she carries with her. 

How she manages to keep it all balanced as she clambers down a ladder and into the water below, she doesn’t know. What she does know is that she has to carefully keep balanced on said ladder, lest her cumbersome load and heavy clothes drag her to the bottom.

And don’t get her started on how wet her socks already are!

She makes quick work of the duffel bag, tying it round one post of the ladder and wrenching it open. Inside are a number of large, clear containers of water -- each of which contain a handful of aquatic flowers.

The first ones she lets go (one by one, each with steady hand of a well-trained scientist -- or so she liked to think) are the hawthorns. She has to work quickly the more they start to scatter -- it won’t be long until someone notices, and she doesn’t particularly want to get caught. 

The hyacinths follow, standing just a hint taller and a bit denser than the hawthorns were. They take the currents quicker, and Sonia’s hands start to slip as she struggles to work quick enough to release her gifts. 

Finally, she reaches for her backpack. There are a number of small plastic bags with single petals. While the flowers themselves still have their roots attached, and can be replanted by a careful hand, these flow freely through the pool. The first comes the tulips, ones that streak with lavender along their otherwise royal purple petals. These are interspersed with irises here and there. Zinnias, vibrant magenta in color follow, quickly taking to the currents

The crowd is just starting to whisper as Sonia dumps the last bag. This one is a mix, acacia and gardenia blend together. This last addition, combined with the rest of the color, is enough to distract the crowd just long enough for Sonia to clamber up the ladder and sneak out. She’s soaked up to her knees from her perch, sure to draw attention when she gets outside, but that’s fine by her. 

She settles not far from the gym, boots off and socks drying in the sun. She’ll give it an hour, hopefully long enough for Nessa to see, before heading back to volunteer with cleanup. The last thing she wants is for her beloved leader to have to clean up the mess, after all.]

[champiowned]

HOW IS THE HONEYMOON GOING. Were they dating pre-game? Who asked who our first?

IT’S GOING GREAT!! there’s so much cool stuff to see and do in alola, PLUS they can be out and about in public without being swarmed by fans! they’re harassing palm tree dragons, wiping out in mantine surfing, hiking jungles, canyons, and volcanoes, and taking much needed spa days… plus, you know, sipping their vacation juice

they were decidedly NOT dating. they flirted off and on as teenagers, but that’s about it. leon always chickened out of actually saying or doing anything. they actually didn’t talk much the year or so before game events. really they started hanging out more a couple weeks after the championship, i think just before the postgame? leon was still pretty beaten up from eternatus, from what i remember. they started flirting off and on again at that point.

it took a few months of that [including some separate occasions of NOT talking for weeks at a time bc of something or other one of them had said/done (not naming names but it was always leon’s fault)] for them to actually… like… admit to THEMSELVES that they were Actually Flirting, but still wouldn’t admit it to each other. it actually took raihan getting invites from other regions’ pokemon leagues for leon to basically bust down his door and beg him not to leave. then they kissed, but still wouldn’t admit they wanted to date for… days or weeks, i’m not 100%. they danced around it a long ass time is the point. “rivals with benefits” is what they called it. i THINK raihan was the first to express interest in actually dating, but leon was the one to actually ASK. (mostly because he shot down the idea at first and then changed his mind the next day.)

[sophorine]

He’s just committed the biggest act of betrayal between trainers. Charizard is in his pocket, along with one or two of Leon’s other Pokemon. His back aches, his jaw throbs, and his arm is bruised. Right now, what he wants more than anything is to hide away.

Instead, he flees to Wedgehurst on Flygon’s back, hoping the wind will drown out the thoughts swimming in his head.

[sxatter]

EB: dude you are such a fucking nerd GG: says you!!! EB: yeah says me GG: you and what army? EB: this army EB: B* B* B* B* B* GG: :O!

you step away from your computer, your pesterlogs open to.... this day, seven years ago

EB: what do you think will happen now? GG: well i think were doomed EB: well duh i mean EB: youre the space guy. will we disappear or something? GG: im not sure. i feel like this has been too easy? everythings so.... ready? GG: can you come hold my hand?

`````````END OF LOGS````````````````````

your head is held in your hands as your knees give out and you fall to the floor. five years, it took five years of searching for answers to finally find the new world. you were each given a test- or at least, you were, you presume the others were as well- and it took you five years to finally understand and get to create the earth.

and it seems youre the only one whos made it.

its tough, being alone for so long. you hear your tears hitting the hardwood. you hate these damn ears.

youre a god, you cant... you cant interact with the public, very well. and you have nobody else to talk to. so there are a few people you’ve found, to keep you company, but it feels more like youre hiring them. you just want friends.

you want your friends.

[poisonbolt-blog]

> Mistakes

If one were to ask what your flaws are, they would be hard-pressed to give a single answer. Within you are countless faults that are entwined to the point not even a magic genie would be able to change a singular aspect of your person without changing the past from years ago. However, there is one flaw that is at the root of almost all others: your hubris.

For years you’d been hiding in the sewers out of fear. As paranoid as you are, there really are people looking for you. People who would want to hurt you, kill you, or kidnap you to keep you locked in a room as a human lab rat. Your fear had outweighed your pride, keeping you operating in the Sumps and underbelly of Zaun for years now. But things had changed.

You had Diego now. You had gone up to Piltover, caused absolute mayhem and destruction, and you’d gone up to Piltover by yourself to rob high-end establishments without anything going wrong. You’re clearly strong and sly enough now; you didn’t have to be so fearful.

It was only a matter of time until you got too comfortable.

You had gone uptown just to steal supplies. Being a wealthy trade city on the sea, Piltover had access to things that no where else did. Sure, you could get it on the black markets of Zaun but maybe things required knowledge of connections or they were of questionable quality. You would know; you’d gotten most of your pain medication from dealers in Zaun and sometimes it was literally mixed with a saline solution. If you wanted assured quality, you wanted Piltover.

As you pointed your crossbow at a cowering woman, demanding she hand over all her goods --”For the last time, I don’t want your money! Just hand over all of your window cleaner!”-- someone must have alerted her. Perhaps she’d been following two steps behind you this whole time and had been waiting for you to slip up. Or maybe she’d always been two steps ahead of you.

The moment you stepped outside with your ill-gotten goods, your eyes catch movement for just the slightest second. It happens so fast that it’s a miracle you move in time. Caitlyn is known for her excellent aim with her sniper rifle. Even when she misses the headshot, she still hits you. The bullet embeds itself into the muscle of your shoulder, shattering the bone there.

You drop everything with a pained squeal, stumbling back and grabbing your shoulder. Blood oozes out from the wound, unnaturally thick and a blackish red as if it was dirty. She takes aim again and you run, darting around the wall of a building into an alleyway. The chase is on.

As you run, officers start to show up to cut you off, Hextech weapons in tow as they take shots at you. In your panic, you miss how your blood trails behind you in splattered droplets on the paved ground. You run. You keep running until you find a sewer entrance. All pipes lead to home. The sewer system of Piltover is connected to that of Zaun, you just have to travel downwards and you do.

When you toss the manhole cover to the side and jump into the gently slopped spiraling pipe that you’re safe. Then you hear shouts above, people chasing you. A man jumps in after you and you take a few shots at him with your crossbow while he takes a shot in return. He’s not Caitlyn but the bullets hit your chest.

Pain blossoms in your chest, burning like it was on fire. It’s suddenly hard to breathe but adrenaline makes your heart race. Your aim isn’t much better but what shots you do land fill your attacker with toxins that cause him to fall to his knees in a matter of seconds. It all happens so fast and yet it feels so much longer.

More people start to drop into the sewer, one of them being Caitlyn, and you run. That’s all you can do is run and run, darting through the different tunnel systems, dipping under the water in an attempt to hide the blood trail you leave behind. They might have a world-class hunter on their side, but this is your territory. You know where to go in this labyrinth. It hurts though, hurts to the point that your vision is blurry and you can’t think straight. It hurts so much but you can’t stop or you are certain you’ll die.

After almost twenty minutes of dodging and ducking through the maze of tunnels, you think you may have actually lost them. You keep descending, lightheaded and staggering through the refuse. Eventually, you make it do the familiar tunnels of the Sump, where your lab is.

You practically trip over your own feet as you enter the cold, dirty, dimly lit room. It’s the same as it’s always been but it terrifies you. Your heart is pounded and it’s a struggle to breathe. The unnatural thickness of your blood probably saved you from bleeding out quickly with the unfortunate side effect that you would bleed out slowly.

It’s a few stumbling steps over to your single mattress on the ground and you drop yourself on it like dead weight. You pull your clothes off, trying to stop the bleeding but you can’t get your hands to stop shaking. Your clothes are absolutely soaked in your own blood and sewage water, and soon the mattress is covered in blood too. It hurts, and you’re scared.

You’re going to die alone here. No one will ever even know where your body is. You’ll never see your papa or your brothers or your mama again, and they’ll never even know what’s happened to you. A sob crawls up from your throat, and another, and another.

Everything feels distant and out of focus, the only thing keeping you grounded is the fear and the pain. Finally, you manage to grab your phone and send a barely coherent message to Diego, your bloodied fingers staining the screen. You’re going to die here and it’s terrifying.