Hello I’m Back After Months 💀💀 (Legit Deleted The App)

Kazuha is usually calm, yet we've seen him being capable of getting really angry and I feel like if he were to ever meet Wanderer he'd definitely snap for one reason or another

my original thought process was - while he accepted what happened to his clan, confronting the cause (/learning the full truth) could stir up previously abandoned feelings Kazuha assumed he already moved past - without Wanderer I don't believe he's reached that peace yet

I know Kazuha is willing to forgive but in Irodori he stated if the person responsible is still making trouble he won't turn a blind eye -> taking action meanwhile Wanderer did say he'd take even a blade to his chest as he feels it should've ended that way long ago

which could lead to clashing feelings as Kazuha wouldn't seek revenge yet Wanderer would be passive, expecting it Kazuha's ideals, his clan, the whole mentality of wanting the revenge to take place by Wanderer, mixed in with what went down in Sumeru recently -> it's messy

and despite provoking people, Wanderer is finally trying to live on his own terms so the self sabotage/reluctance to fully move past as he still wants to be punished is definitely challenging Kazuha who wants to live in the present - as who's he to take his present away?

I could see Kazuha getting angry both at Wanderer being stuck and wanting something to end him when his second chance is right here and he's proving himself people even care for him now my dialouge reflects this anger though I feel like there's many other ways this could go

anyway just explaining the thought behind the art BUT I admit, I do have trouble predicting/portraying Kazuha's reactions, so if I said something really inaccurate then treat this as a fun alternative? these two are complicated but I hope I did okayish at the very least

---

i love their ancient love triangle... its like anime

Nothing is Worth the Risk?

TW: Swearing and Violence!

"Mark... Cesar... I'm so... sorry..."

Clean Bubbles stood before her bedroom mirror, her reflection staring back at her with determination and paralyzing fear. Today was the day they were heading to the arcade, which usually brought her joy and excitement. 

But today was different. 

Today, her nerves were on edge, her mind consumed by the ever-present, looming threat of the Alternates.

She ran a hand through her blue and black hair, the strands slipping through her fingers like silk. Taking a deep breath, she tried to steady her racing heart, to push down the rising tide of fear that threatened to overwhelm her. But no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't shake the feeling of impending doom that hung over her like a dark cloud.

With a determined sigh, Clean Bubbles tore her gaze away from her reflection and turned to her wardrobe. She meticulously chose her outfit for the day, ensuring it would blend in with the crowds at the arcade and allow her to move freely and react quickly if needed.

After deliberation, she settled on a comfortable yet stylish ensemble: a black hoodie adorned with a subtle bubble pattern paired with dark jeans and sneakers. It was a simple outfit, but it offered the mobility and flexibility she needed to navigate the crowded arcade easily.

As she slipped into her chosen attire, she couldn't help but feel a sense of unease gnawing at her stomach. She knew every moment she spent with Mark and Cesar was precious, a fleeting respite from the chaos and danger lurking in the shadows.

But she also knew she couldn't afford to let her guard down, not even for a moment. The Alternates were cunning and relentless, their thirst for destruction and chaos insatiable. They would stop at nothing to eliminate her if they discovered her true identity and realized she was standing in their way.

With a heavy heart, Clean Bubbles reached for her utility belt, her fingers tracing the familiar contours of her weapons. She had spent countless hours honing her skills, training her body and mind to prepare for anything. But no amount of preparation could ease the burden of her responsibilities, the weight of the lives she carried on her shoulders. The fear of failure and the weight of her duty threatened to overwhelm her, but she pushed it down, determined to do what was right.

Taking a deep breath, Clean Bubbles fastened her utility belt around her waist, the weight of her weapons comforting against her skin. She knew that she couldn't face the Alternates alone and needed Mark and Cesar by her side. Their unwavering support was her lifeline, her beacon of hope in the face of darkness.

But as she glanced at her reflection one last time, her resolve hardened. She may have been afraid, but she refused to let that fear control her. She would face the dangers ahead with courage and determination for the sake of her friends and their world.

With a determined nod, Clean Bubbles turned away from the mirror and headed out the door, her heart heavy but her spirit unbroken. Today may be fraught with danger and uncertainty, but she would face it head-on, with her friends by her side and her unwavering convictions guiding her every step. She was scared, but she was also brave, and that was what mattered most.

“Bubbles! Mi amiga, I'm glad you are loosening up more than the movie last night!” Cesar was waiting outside her house. Mark was in his car, waiting to pick her up and drive to the arcade. Since the news of Alternates’ appearance lately has been decreasing, they haven’t been appearing since this ‘Celestial Artisan’ has been destroying them instantly on sight. “¿Cómo estás?” He spoke in his native language.

“¡Estoy bien!” She grinned softly, her Spanish speaking skills from high school kicking in because of Cesar’s surprised look. 

His surprise quickly turned into a warm smile at Clean Bubbles' response, his brown eyes twinkling affectionately. "¡Qué bueno verte tan animada, amiga!" he exclaimed, his voice filled with genuine delight. "I'm glad you're feeling better today."

Clean Bubbles returned his smile, her heart swelling with gratitude at Cesar's kindness and understanding. Despite her fears and doubts, he never failed to offer her support and encouragement; she was eternally grateful for that.

"Gracias, Cesar," she replied softly, her voice tinged with sincerity. "I-I'm feeling... better, thanks to you and Mark."

Cesar's smile widened at her words, and his hand gently squeezed her shoulder. "De nada, Bubbles," he said gently. “You're not alone in this. We're in this together, remember?"

Clean Bubbles nodded, her heart lighter than it had been in days. 

Just then, Mark's car pulled up to the curb, and he leaned out of the window. He greeted them with a cheerful smile as they reached the car, his eyes sparkling excitedly. "Hey, guys!" he exclaimed, his voice filled with enthusiasm. "Are you ready to hit the arcade?"

Clean Bubbles forced a smile, her heart pounding as she climbed into the car. "Y-Yeah, let's do this," she replied, her voice tinged with nervousness. "I-I'm ready."

Mark nodded eagerly, his grin widening. "Great!" he exclaimed, starting the car. "Let's go make some memories!"

With that, Clean Bubbles climbed into the car beside Mark, her heart pounding excitedly. Today may be filled with danger and uncertainty, but as long as she had her friends by her side, she knew they would face it together with courage and determination.

As they drove off towards the arcade, Clean Bubbles couldn't help but feel a sense of hope stirring within her. It felt great to let loose despite the dangers of the creatures from Lucifer being unleashed within the world. But even so, she can’t let her guard down and must remain vigilant in keeping out for the creatures while ensuring her identity is compromised. Her hidden weapons were on her utility belt underneath her sweater.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Upon arriving at the arcade, Clean Bubbles' nerves were on edge, her senses on high alert for any sign of danger. The neon lights and lively atmosphere usually filled her with excitement, but today, they only served to heighten her anxiety.

She followed Mark and Cesar inside, the familiar sights and sounds of the arcade washing over her as they made their way through the crowds. Her eyes darted around, scanning every corner for any hint of movement or disturbance.

The Alternates had a knack for infiltrating technology, and the thought of facing them within the confines of the arcade sent shivers down her spine. 

Wait, you might wonder how the arcade was open if Alternates can infiltrate it, right?

Well, it’s simple! Bubbles has created a technokinesis seal to prevent any entity from entering or manipulating the game. They’re hidden, of course, so no one would be able to find and take it off.

Clean Bubbles kept a wary eye for any signs of trouble as they wandered through the rows of arcade machines. She couldn't afford to let her guard down, not even for a moment, not when her friends' lives were at stake.

But as they immersed themselves in the games, the tension in the air dissipated, replaced by the joy and excitement of friendly competition. Clean Bubbles found herself getting lost in the thrill of the games, her worries momentarily forgotten in the heat of the moment.

However, just as she started to relax, a flicker of movement caught her eye. Her heart skipped a beat as she saw a figure lurking in the shadows, its eyes filled with malice and hunger.

It was an Alternate, its presence unmistakable even in the dim light of the arcade.

Panic surged through Clean Bubbles' veins as she realized their danger. She had to act fast to protect her friends and the surrounding people without raising suspicion. Glancing around to ensure no one was watching, she subtly reached for her hidden weapons, her fingers closing around the hilt of her blade.

But before she could pull it out and strike, Mark's voice cut through the chaos, his cheerful laughter ringing out above the noise of the arcade. "Hey, Bubbles, check out this game! It's awesome!"

Clean Bubbles forced a smile, her heart pounding in her chest as she tried to mask her rising panic. "Y-Yeah, I'll be right there," she replied, her voice tinged with nervousness. "J- Just give me a second. I have to do some… business.”

“Okay! Let us know when you’re done!” Cesar exclaimed before he and Mark explored the game.

When Clean Bubbles looked back to where she saw the creature, it was gone. “Huh? What the—”

*Fwip!*

*Smack!*

“OOF!” Clean Bubbles breathlessly coughed as the Alternate tackled her down from behind as they tumbled to a dark and isolated corner where no one could find her. She winced as she felt a claw digging on her side.

She gasped as the weight of the Alternate bore down on her, the force of the impact knocking the breath from her lungs. She struggled against the creature, her heart pounding in her chest as she grappled with the creature's strength.

With a surge of adrenaline, she twisted and turned, using every ounce of her strength and agility to break free from the creature's grasp. She reached for her hidden blade, her fingers closing around the hilt as she prepared to strike.

Before she could unleash her attack, the Alternate snarled and lunged at her again, its claws flashing in the dim light of the arcade. The blue, black, and white-haired girl dodged and weaved, narrowly avoiding the creature's deadly strikes as she fought for her life.

With a fierce determination, the female teen fought back with everything she had, her movements fluid and precise as she countered the creature's every move. She knew she couldn't afford to lose, not when her friends' lives were at stake. 

But she can’t afford to let the creature leave alive, or it will report back to its creator, Lucifer himself, and spill every secret she has been hiding. She was tired of constantly being on the defensive, continually fighting to protect her friends and her world from the threat of the Alternates.

“Damn you!” She cursed, grabbing the Alternate before throwing it off her petite frame. 

*THUMP!*

It landed on the carpet with a resounding ‘thump’ sound effect before it was tackled again. The two rolled and tumbled around quickly, with the entity trying to kill her while she was trying to make sure attention wasn’t drawn toward the gamers. Bubbles winced as she felt a claw grazing her cheek, creating a cut. “Oh, you little–” She growled before imbuing her fist with magical aura sparks and delivering a right hook and an uppercut.

*SMACK!*

The creature let out an angry howl before grabbing Bubbles and throwing her to the ground, making her cough with pain. She gasped as the entity tackled her again.

While she was wrestling with the Alternate, Cesar, and Mark were having fun playing the arcade game Centipede. It was exciting and chaotic for them “Mark! Mark! Aim for the head!” He exclaimed, jabbing a finger toward the heads of the three centipedes. 

“I am trying! Do you think it's easy?” he remarked, his fingers and hands moving swiftly as he aimed to eliminate the insects' heads. 

“Of course it is! You need to aim for the head ONLY!” Mark’s friend facepalmed. “It splits in half if you miss it and hit the body! Oh wait–SPIDER ON SCREEN!” He pointed to the pixelated spider coming in on the screen.

“GOT IT!” He quickly eliminated the being. “Haha! Take that! Now, for the centipede–”

*BLIP!*

The enemy itself destroyed the shooter on the screen. Mark was too distracted with trying to grab the spider, but he ignored the centipede that was closer to the bottom of the screen. “Dang it!” He groaned.

“It’s alright, mi amigo,” Cesar patted him on his back. “You’ve got an impressive high score.”

*THUD!*

A loud thump was heard from behind, and the two turned around quickly. They looked bewildered, seeing Bubbles carrying a large, bony, limply body of… something. 

“Clean Bubbles? W- What is that?” Mark stuttered, pointing to the tall black figure over her shoulder.

“...It’s a model I found lying in the arcade.” She lied, her eyebrow twitching in pain. Earlier, she smashed the Alternate’s head onto the ground, knocking it out. But it bit her ankle simultaneously, so there was a distinctive mark. Thankfully, the dimness of the arcade shadowed the injury. “I thought it was cool to show you… but it’s heavy.”

The boys exchanged puzzled glances, clearly skeptical of Clean Bubbles' explanation. The figure she held seemed anything but a harmless arcade prop.

"Uh, okay..." Mark replied, still eyeing the figure warily. "But are you sure you're okay? You look like you've been through a wrestling match."

She forced a strained smile, trying to downplay the severity of the situation. "Yeah, I'm fine," she replied, her voice slightly breathless from the exertion of the struggle. “I just stumbled and bumped into this thing. No big deal."

Cesar narrowed his eyes, his expression filled with concern. "Are you sure you don't need medical attention, Bubbles?" he asked, his voice laced with worry. "That looks like a nasty bite on your ankle."

Clean Bubbles quickly glanced down at her ankle, cursing inwardly as she saw the telltale mark left by the Alternate's bite. She needed to come up with a convincing explanation and fast. “A dog. I accidentally stepped on a service dog’s tail. It bit me.” She sighed, chuckling lightheartedly at the ‘incident’ she had. “It’s not a biggie. The dog didn’t have rabies. I’ll be fine.”

Mark and Cesar exchanged a concerned glance, unconvinced by Clean Bubbles' explanation. However, they trusted her enough not to push the issue further. After all, she had always been secretive about certain aspects of her life, and they had learned to respect her boundaries.

"Alright, if you say so," Mark replied, still eyeing the figure suspiciously. "But let us know if you need anything, okay? We're here for you."

Clean Bubbles nodded gratefully, her heart warmed by her friends' concern. Despite the dangers lurking in the shadows, she knew she could always count on them to have her back.

"Thanks, guys," she said softly, a genuine smile gracing her lips. "I really appreciate it. I’ll go find and put this thing back where I found it."

“See ya, then! We’ll be waiting at Galaga!” Cesar nodded. With that, the boys returned to their game, the events of the encounter slowly fading into the background as they immersed themselves in the fun and excitement of the arcade.

Clean Bubbles dragged the Alternate to a secluded area where no one was watching her. She grabbed her blade and made quick work with the entity. It quickly began melting, turning into a black, gooey puddle. A soft sigh left her lips as she used her magic and quickly cleaned up the black mess on the carpet. “There, no one would suspect!” She chuckled nervously.

She then felt a hand on her shoulder. Turning slowly, her eyes widened with surprise as she saw a staff member of the place who looked… flawed. Its pupils were large as it stared uncannily into her soul. It also had an unhinged jaw that looked like it melted and drooped down like clay.

“Dammit.” Bubbles grumbled, grabbing its head. She quickly twisted it and snapped its neck.

*SNAP!*

Clean Bubbles swiftly disposed of the corrupted staff member, her heart racing with adrenaline as she realized their danger. She couldn't afford to let anyone discover her true identity or the existence of the Alternates. With a glance around to ensure no one was watching, she carefully disposed of the body, using her magic to erase any traces of their encounter.

As she straightened up, her mind raced with possibilities.

How many more corrupted individuals had infiltrated the arcade?

Were they working alone, or had their “Lord and Savior” given them a specific command and order?

Pushing aside her fears and doubts, Clean Bubbles focused on the task. She needed to protect her friends and the surrounding people and ensure their safety. With a determined resolve, she set off to find Mark and Cesar, her senses on high alert for any signs of danger.

After a few minutes of searching, she finally spotted them engrossed in a game of Galaga. Their laughter filled the air as they battled against the alien invaders on the screen. Relief flooded through Clean Bubbles as she approached them, her heart swelling with gratitude for their unwavering support and friendship.

 However, she noticed another person hidden in the shadows had that same Alternate uncanny look. Its limbs were thin, bony, and long as it quietly reached over to the two. 

Bubbles walked swiftly, grabbing the Alternate’s head before snapping its neck.

*SNAP!*

It broke on instance, and she disposed of the body back into the shadows before turning to the boys. "Hey, guys," she greeted them with a smile, her voice tinged with relief. "Are you Having fun?"

Mark and Cesar turned to her with smiles, their eyes excitedly bright. "Hey, Bubbles!" Mark exclaimed, his grin widening. "You missed out on all the action! We're kicking alien butt left and right!"

Cesar chuckled, nodding in agreement. "Sí, it's been quite the adventure," he added, his eyes twinkling with amusement. "But it would be even better with you here. Care to join us?"

Clean Bubbles couldn't help but smile at their enthusiasm, her heart warmed by their genuine camaraderie. Despite the dangers lurking in the shadows, she knew she could always count on her friends to lift her spirits and make her feel like she belonged.

"Thanks, guys," she replied, her voice filled with gratitude. "I'd love to join you. Let's show these aliens who's boss!"

With that, Clean Bubbles took her place beside Mark and Cesar, her fears momentarily forgotten as they plunged into the thrilling world of Galaga. Together, they battled against the alien invaders with skill and determination, their laughter echoing through the arcade as they fought.

As they played, a sense of camaraderie stirred. She had never felt so belonged after being so lonely with no one for fifteen years. It was painful and sad to carry a burden that she felt no one else could shoulder, but with her friends, she felt lighthearted from the mission she had to focus on.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The game drew to an exciting close, with their team achieving a high score that lit up the leaderboard. The feeling of victory was palpable among them. Clean Bubbles, Mark, and Cesar exchanged high fives, their earlier laughter mingling with a shared sense of accomplishment. Moments like these made the girl momentarily forget the weight of her double life and embrace the joy of simple, youthful fun.

"Man, that was intense!" Mark exclaimed, wiping a bead of sweat from his brow with a wide grin. "But we did it! High score, guys!"

Cesar beamed, his eyes gleaming with pride. "We should come here more often," he suggested, still riding the high of their victory. "It’s a great break from the usual routine, and it's good for team building, no?"

She nodded, the warmth of their friendship enveloping her. "Definitely," she agreed, her voice light and filled with a rare carefreeness. "It's nice to just... let go and have fun like this."

Her eyes wandered around the arcade, taking in the bustling activity around them. Families and groups of friends were immersed in their games, their laughter and cheers adding to the vibrant atmosphere of the place. It was a welcome reprieve from the dangers lurking outside, a bubble of normalcy in her tumultuous life.

As they headed to exit the arcade, Bubbles noticed some movement out of the corner of her eye. She saw several tall and skinny Alternates hidden in the arcade's dim lights, quietly hunting their prey, which was the trio and the oblivious people who were gaming.

“Oh! Mark, Cesar,” she cleared her throat. “I-I have to use the bathroom real quick. Sorry.”

“No need to apologize, it’s normal.” Cesar lightheartedly chuckles it off. 

“We’ll wait for you outside,” Mark added as he and his childhood friend stepped out of the arcade.

The playful atmosphere of the arcade, buzzing with the sounds of games and laughter, suddenly felt heavy with impending danger to Bubbles. How could she not have noticed this!? She inwardly cursed for being so… carefree from her job. But now, she knew she had to act fast to protect her friends and the unsuspecting people around her.

Glancing around to ensure that Mark and Cesar were out of sight, she quietly approached the area where she had noticed the unsettling movement. Her heart raced, and her hands gripped her concealed weapons tightly, ready to be drawn at a moment's notice.

The dim lights of the arcade cast long shadows, perfect for the Alternates to hide and strike unnoticed. Clean Bubbles' eyes narrowed as she scanned the area, her senses heightened to every sound and movement. In the darker part of the arcade near an old, out-of-order pinball machine, the elongated shadows coalesced into the distinct, skeletal forms of the Alternates.

She moved silently, her footsteps muffled by the cacophony of digital noise. As she neared the group of lurking figures, she could see their forms more clearly—distorted, their limbs unnaturally long, faces devoid of any human expression. These were no ordinary arcade goers; they were threats, each one potentially deadly.

Without hesitation, Clean Bubbles prepared to spring into action. The element of surprise was on her side. But before she could do so, she felt a clawed hand grabbing the back of her neck, making her cough and gasp as the sharpness dug into her neck. 

Clean Bubbles' reflexes kicked in instantly as she felt the sharp claws dig into her skin. Twisting violently, she managed to slip out of the creature's grasp, adrenaline surging through her veins. With no time to spare, she drew her concealed weapon—a sleek, silver blade that gleamed under the arcade's neon lights.

Facing her attacker, Clean Bubbles saw the twisted features of the Alternate, its eyes glowing with a sinister light. She knew these creatures were not just mindless beasts; they were cunning and dangerous, often sent by their creator, Lucifer, to hunt down those like her who stood in their way.

Determined not to let this creature harm her or anyone else, Clean Bubbles lunged forward, her blade aimed at the creature’s chest. But the Alternate was quick, dodging her attack with a grotesque agility that seemed almost unnatural. It countered with its own swipe, forcing Clean Bubbles to roll to the side to avoid a lethal strike.

The sounds of the arcade around them—the blips and beeps of games, the laughter and shouts of patrons—seemed to fade into the background as Clean Bubbles focused entirely on her foe. 

Everything wasn’t fair for her. 

But this was her reality, a constant battle lurking beneath the surface of her everyday life.

Regaining her footing, Clean Bubbles didn't hesitate. She attacked again, this time with more force, driving the creature back against an arcade machine. The screen flickered wildly as the machine absorbed the impact of the creature's body.

“Enough of this…!” She grabbed her blade, ready to end the creature.

“Whoa! This machine shook!” One of the gamers behind the arcade machine they were playing exclaimed. 

“That’s so cool!” Another one perked up. “Since when they added real-life effects in the machine!?”

“CRAP!” Bubbles inwardly cursed again, belittling herself for not paying attention to where she was taking the fight.

With a quick flick of her wrist, Clean Bubbles adjusted her stance, bringing her blade close and readying for another strike, mindful now of her surroundings. Her heart raced as she attempted to conceal her battle from the oblivious gamers just a thin panel away.

Sensing her hesitation, the Alternate smirked—a grotesque twisting of its distorted features—and lunged. Clean Bubbles parried with her blade, sparks flying as metal clashed against the creature's talon-like fingernails. She couldn't afford to draw this out any longer; the risk of exposure was too significant.

Thinking fast, she made a split-second decision. She released her grip on her blade and instead focused on creating a diversion to mask their altercation. Channeling her abilities, she activated the arcade machine, causing its lights to flash and its buttons to malfunction erratically.

The sudden chaos drew the attention of the nearby gamers, who were now more engrossed in the spectacle of the malfunctioning machine than the scuffle happening in the shadows.

Glancing around swiftly to ensure no onlookers were watching, she maneuvered the creature into a narrower, less visible gap between two arcade machines. "Time to end this," she muttered under her breath, her voice a blend of resolve and exhaustion.

With a deft move, she thrust her blade upwards, aiming for a vital spot beneath the creature's ribcage. The Alternate hissed in pain as the blade found its mark, dark, viscous liquid oozing from the wound. It clawed desperately at her, but she sidestepped gracefully, withdrawing her blade with a slick pull.

Clean Bubbles watched as the creature staggered, its form dissolving into the same black, viscous, gooey substance she had encountered. It let out a guttural sound that was part growl, part curse before it vanished completely, leaving no trace behind except for the sticky residue on her blade and her racing heart.

“Damn it…” She cursed, shaking her head as she wiped off the black substance from her weapon. She also winced from the bite mark on her ankle. However, before she can focus on healing before fighting back, she is grabbed by the neck by another sharp claw and tossed against a wall.

*SMACK!*

*THUD!*

Clean Bubbles hit the ground hard, the force of the impact driving the air from her lungs. She barely had a moment to recover before she felt the sharp pressure of another Alternate's claw pressing against her throat. Struggling for breath, she clawed at the ground, trying to push herself up and fight back.

This new creature was larger and seemed even more menacing than the last. Its eyes glowed with a malevolent light, and it leaned closer, its cold breath against her face. "You think you can interfere with our plans so easily?" it hissed, its voice a chilling whisper that sent shivers down her spine.

Gritting her teeth, Clean Bubbles summoned her strength and quickly slid her hand to grab the hilt of her blade, which had skidded a few feet away during the scuffle. With a swift, practiced motion, she swung the blade up, slicing through the claw that held her, freeing herself from its grasp.

The creature howled in pain and anger, retracting its injured limb. Clean Bubbles didn't waste a moment; she rolled to her feet, blade at the ready, her eyes locked on her adversary. She knew she couldn't afford to let this creature escape—its knowledge of her could jeopardize not only her safety but also that of Mark and Cesar.

The arcade's flashing lights and electronic sounds created a chaotic backdrop for their deadly dance. Clean Bubbles dodged another swipe from the creature, her movements fluid despite the adrenaline pumping through her veins. She needed to end this quickly and quietly—no easy task in the bustling arcade. “GR!” With a swipe of her blade, she decapitated the monster’s head with a quick ‘chop’ noise.

The head flew by and hit the spasming arcade machine, which immediately reverted back to normal. “Hey! The game works now!”

“Yay!” 

The blue-and-black-haired girl grumbled and panted, fixing her disheveled look. “These Alternates are getting annoying…” she grunted, instinctively gauging a blade into an Alternate who attempted to sneak attack her.

❁ ≖≖✿❁ ≖≖ ❁

In the meantime, Mark and Cesar were waiting for her. It had only been ten minutes while they were waiting for their friend. “Hey, Mark,” the male wearing the gray sweater turned to the male wearing a suit. “Do you think Clean Bubbles is alright?” Cesar questioned him. 

He knew they had been hanging out within the past couple of weeks, and they quickly got attached. However, suspicions stirred within him for his new friend. She had been acting funny, hiding the bite mark from her ankle. To find this creepy skeletal model of a creature from the backrooms of the arcade was… uncanny.

Mark paused, his expression reflecting a mix of concern and uncertainty. "I'm not sure," he admitted, scratching his head. "She seems like she's handling everything okay, but sometimes... I don't know. It feels like she's holding something back. Like there's more going on than she lets on."

Cesar nodded slowly, his gaze drifting towards the arcade's entrance, half-expecting Clean Bubbles to appear at any moment. "Yeah, I get that feeling too. She's tough, no doubt, but that thing she dragged out... it didn't look like any ordinary arcade prop to me."

Mark sighed, his eyes filled with worry. "And that 'dog bite' on her ankle looked pretty bad. She played it off like it was nothing, but I'm worried. I mean, who gets bitten by a dog inside an arcade?"

“Anyone can.” The Hispanic teen shrugged. “She did say she accidentally stepped on its tail.” 

Awkward silence played between the two boys before Mark spoke. “But besides the point, she seems tense when we’re not paying attention. It's as if she’s shouldering something we’re unaware of.”

His friend nodded in agreement, his expression serious. "Yeah, I've noticed that too. It's like she's constantly on edge, always watching her surroundings, always doing some sort of heavy lifting. It makes me wonder what she's hiding."

Mark frowned, his mind racing with possibilities. "Do you think... she's in some kind of trouble? Like, maybe someone's after her or something? Maybe it’s family matters?"

Cesar shrugged, uncertainty clouding his features. "I don't know, man. But whatever it is, I think we should be there for her. She's been a great friend to us, and if she's in trouble, we must help her however we can."

Mark nodded, determination shining in his eyes. "You're right. We'll keep an eye on her and make sure she's okay... even if it's personal affairs that harm her."

The two friends waited patiently for Clean Bubbles to return, their minds filled with concern and determination to uncover the truth behind their friend's mysterious behavior. 

❁ ≖≖✿❁ ≖≖ ❁

Back at the arcade, Clean Bubbles just finished snapping the last Alternate’s head off from its place. “Agh…” She panted heavily. Her clothes were soaked in the black substance from the Alternates, which was supposedly their blood. She clicked her tongue as she got a taste of the substance. “Blegh!” She spat slightly. “This tastes rotten… as if someone or some people performed a ritual on a person, and now taste like a corpse.” She wiped her tongue with the sleeve of her sweater. 

She quickly surveyed the area to ensure no bystanders had witnessed her grim battle. The arcade's flashing lights and the cacophony of game noises continued unabated, starkly contrasting the silent violence she had just enacted in its shadows.

Taking a deep breath to steady her nerves, she began erasing any evidence of the fight. Using her abilities, she focused intently, her hands moving with practiced precision as she conjured a cleansing spell. The dark stains began to dissolve, vanishing without a trace from the arcade's carpet and her clothing.

“There… now I can use the bathroom,” she chuckled, walking off to do her business.

But she paused, remembering the bite mark. 

Even if she tried to heal it quickly, the boys would suspect that she wasn’t human and was an Alternate unless there was a chance that someone else would believe she was something else, but that’s not likely the case. 

She stepped back from the bathroom entrance. She quickly glanced around, trying to find a safer spot where she could clean off the blood from her pants and fix the wound. Spotting a janitor's closet, she hurried over and slipped inside, thankful for the momentary privacy. Inside, she found supplies that would hopefully do the trick. She grabbed some heavy-duty paper towels and began trying to clean the blood on her clothes. Bubbles also used healing magic to heal the wound and make it look more natural than inhuman.

The grime was stubborn, but she reduced its appearance enough to pass a casual glance. However, the physical evidence of her skirmish was the least of her worries. The emotional and mental toll was harder to disguise. She leaned against the cool wall of the closet, allowing herself a brief moment to collect her thoughts and steady her breathing.

Her mind replayed the close calls of the day. She was getting too close to being exposed, and the increasing frequency of Alternate attacks was a clear sign that they were becoming more coordinated and perhaps even aware of her true capabilities. It was only a matter of time before she would have to confront larger forces or make tough decisions about her double life.

Exhausted from the strain of constant vigilance and combat, Clean Bubbles knew she couldn't keep going like this indefinitely. The burden of her secret identity was becoming too heavy to bear alone. She was torn between the desire to protect her friends by keeping them ignorant of the dangers they faced and the need to have allies who understood the full extent of the threat. The thought of involving Mark and Cesar in this darker aspect of her life filled her with dread; she couldn’t bear the thought of their already abnormal lives being ripped apart like hers.

Shaking her head to clear these troubling thoughts, Clean Bubbles checked her appearance one last time in the dim light of the closet. She needed to maintain her facade, at least for now, until she could develop a better plan. Stepping out of the closet, she ensured her expression was calm and untroubled as she returned to her friends.

As she approached Mark and Cesar, who were waiting outside the arcade, their faces lit up with smiles, but their eyes held a trace of concern.

Mark spotted her first, his expression lighting up with relief as she approached. "There you are!" he exclaimed. "We were starting to worry. Everything okay?"

Standing beside him, Cesar eyed her appearance, noting the slight disarray in her attire. "You look a bit off, Bubbles. Sure you're alright?"

"Yeah, all good," she replied, forcing a smile. "Just needed a moment to myself. Thanks for waiting."

She noticed their concerned glances and knew she had to divert their attention. "So, who won the game?" she asked, injecting a playful note into her tone.

Mark chuckled, the tension in his expression easing. "Cesar did, but only because he cheated," he accused, nudging his friend playfully.

Cesar defended himself with a laugh. "I did not cheat! It's called strategy. Learn the difference, mi amigo."

Their banter was a welcome return to normalcy, allowing Clean Bubbles to relax slightly as the focus shifted away from her. She laughed along, enjoying the momentary peace.

However, her respite was short-lived. She noticed a flicker of movement from the corner of her eye, a subtle reminder that the threat was never far away. She tensed, her senses sharpening, but upon closer inspection, it was just a couple of kids running past, their laughter echoing through the arcade.

"Guess I'm still on edge," she thought, scolding herself internally for being overly cautious. Yet, she couldn't afford to let her guard down completely, not when danger had a way of hiding in plain sight. 

Mark suggested grabbing dinner together, an idea that was enthusiastically agreed upon. The trio found themselves at a nearby diner, a cozy place known for its hearty meals and friendly service.

As they settled into a booth, the waitress came over with a smile and took their orders. The casual chatter about movies, music, and mundane daily occurrences continued, allowing Clean Bubbles to revel in the normalcy of the conversation—something she cherished more than she could express.

However, her mind was never entirely at ease beneath her calm exterior. The encounter with the Alternates at the arcade was a stark reminder of the ever-present danger she and everyone around her face. She knew she couldn’t let her guard down, not entirely.

But for now, surrounded by her friends in the warm, inviting atmosphere of the diner, she allowed herself to relax slightly. The laughter and conversation washed over her, easing the tension built up over the past weeks.

The dinner was filled with shared stories and laughter, especially when Cesar attempted to mimic an accent he had heard in one of the games. This caused Mark to almost spit out his drink in laughter. Clean Bubbles found herself laughing along, her earlier fears temporarily forgotten under the weight of genuine joy.

As they walked back to Mark's car, the streets bathed in the soft hues of the night, Clean Bubbles felt a surge of gratitude. "Thanks, you guys," she said, looking at both of her friends with a sincere smile. "Today was needed. I had a great time."

Mark, who was unlocking the car, smiled warmly at her. "We're just glad you could come out and chill with us, Bubbles," he replied, opening the door for her. "You know, you should let your hair down more often."

Cesar agreed, getting into the car. "Yeah, and remember, whatever it is that's weighing on you, you can share it with us. We're here for you, no matter what."

Their words heavyened her heart, knowing just how much she was keeping from them. Yet, she appreciated their support more than they could possibly know. "...Thanks," she murmured as she climbed into the car. That means a lot."

She felt a complex mix of emotions swirling within her as they drove off. The day's joy was tinged with the silent acknowledgment of the battles yet to come. With friends like Mark and Cesar, she felt stronger, braver, and much less alone.

But the burden she carried couldn’t be told to them, knowing she’d be putting them in more danger than they already knew.

“We’re here, at Bubbles’s house.” Mark stopped the vehicle. They reached the street where they would part ways. Clean Bubbles hugged each of them, and the warmth of their friendship provided a small comfort against the cold fear that lingered in her heart. "Goodnight, Mark, Cesar. See you tomorrow."

"Goodnight, Bubbles," they replied in unison, watching her as she walked away, her figure slowly disappearing into the house.

Alone now, Clean Bubbles allowed herself to feel the total weight of her solitude and the burdens she carried. She knew she couldn't keep her secrets forever, and the thought of what would happen when the truth came out haunted her every step.

But she knew she must be prepared to face whatever challenges awaited her, armed with the knowledge that, for now, she had the support of her friends—even if they didn't know the whole truth.

❁ ≖≖✿❁ ≖≖ ❁

Outside, while Cesar and Mark were heading back to their house (with Mark dropping off Cesar first), they seemed to be lost in their thoughts on the way. “Hey, Mark, do you think we should stop, turn around, and go see Bubbles? Do you think she’s doing something in her house that makes her…you know? Feel so… tense?”

Mark glanced at Cesar, his expression thoughtful as he navigated the quiet streets. "I've been thinking about that too," he admitted. "Something's definitely up with her. She's always a bit on edge, and today in the arcade... did you notice how quickly she changed after coming back from that 'bathroom break'?"

Cesar nodded, his brows furrowed in concern. "Yeah, and she looked like she had been in a scrap or something. I mean, who gets all messed up from just going to the bathroom? And that whole thing with the 'model' she found? It all seems really off."

Mark sighed, tapping the steering wheel nervously. "Maybe we should just ask her straight up? I mean, if she’s in some kind of trouble, we should let her know we’re here to help, right?"

"I agree, but we have to be careful not to push her too hard. She's really private about her stuff, and I don't want her to think we're prying too much and end up pushing her away," Cesar responded, his tone laced with caution.

Mark gripped the steering wheel tighter, his eyes focused on the road ahead but his mind racing with Cesar's question. It wasn't the first time the thought had crossed his mind that maybe, just maybe, Clean Bubbles was dealing with something much more significant than she let on. Her often distant gaze, how she sometimes flinched at sudden movements, and her unexplained absences all added to a narrative that worried him more each day.

"Yeah, I've been thinking about that too," Mark finally said, his voice tinged with concern. "But, you know, Bubbles has always been upfront about needing her space. We should respect that, even if we're worried."

Cesar nodded, his gaze fixed on the passing streetlights flickering outside the window. "I get that," he agreed. “But it's not just the tension, Mark. It's everything. She's been acting really off lately—more than just needing space. I mean, what was that back at the arcade? That wasn't normal."

Mark sighed, slowing the car as they approached a red light. He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel, recalling the moments at the arcade. "Yeah, the arcade thing was strange. I've never seen her like that. It's like she was on high alert or something. She also kept stealing glances behind us as if she expected some monster to stalk us."

"And that 'model' she found? That wasn't a model, man," Cesar added, his voice low. "I've seen enough weird stuff to know that wasn't normal. I just... I don't want her to think we're not here for her, you know?"

The light turned green, and Mark drove on, his mind racing with the same concerns. "I know exactly what you mean. Maybe we're not doing enough. Maybe she needs more from us, more support."

Cesar looked over at Mark, his expression serious. "We should talk to her, really talk. Not just let it slide next time something weird happens. We should let her know she can rely on us, for anything."

"Yeah, I've been thinking the same," Mark admitted, his voice low. "Something's off. She's our friend, Cesar. If she's in trouble or if there's something big she's hiding, it will not just affect her. It could involve us too, whether or not we're ready for it."

Cesar nodded slowly, his worry for their friend evident on his face. "I know," he replied, the concern evident in his voice. "But if we go back now, uninvited, wouldn't that cross a line? She might not appreciate us prying into her life like that."

"That's true," Mark conceded, his brow furrowing. "But maybe it's not about prying. Maybe it's about being there, making sure she knows she's not alone, whatever she's facing." He paused, considering his following words carefully. "I think we should at least offer our help again, make it clear we're here for her, no matter what."

Cesar remained silent for a moment, mulling over Mark's words. Finally, he let out a deep sigh. "Okay, let's do it. Let's turn around and go back. Even if she doesn't open up to us, she'll know we're there for her, right?"

Mark turned the car around with a decisive nod, heading back to Clean Bubbles' house. The drive was quiet, each of them lost in their thoughts about the myriad of possibilities that might be affecting their friend.

╚⏤⏤⏤╗❀╔⏤⏤⏤⏤⏤⏤╗❀╔⏤⏤⏤╝

Back at her house, she leaned against the door and exhaled deeply. The weight of her double life felt crushing in the solitude of her home. She wandered through the quiet rooms, replaying the day’s events and the close calls that had come far too close for comfort.

The quiet was deafening. Every sound seemed amplified—the clock ticking, the distant bark of a dog, the whisper of the wind against the windows. She moved mechanically through her nightly routine, but her thoughts were chaotic and tangled.

Her encounters with the Alternates were escalating, and their boldness worried her. They were getting closer, becoming more daring. And her friends—Mark and Cesar—were getting more perceptive. How long before they stumbled upon the truth?

She sighed, her reflection in the mirror, a pale shadow of her usual self. Her secrets felt heavier tonight, each one a chain locked around her heart.

She knew she couldn't keep going like this. Something had to give, and she needed to make some decisions soon. But for tonight, the only thing she could do was prepare for the next day, hoping she could protect her friends and herself from whatever was coming their way.

She needed to be more robust and more cautious. Her involvement with the Alternates was becoming more dangerous, and the stakes were higher than ever. The safety of her friends was her priority, and the thought of them getting hurt because of her battles terrified her.

She sat at her desk in her room, flipping open a hidden compartment to reveal her secret stash of notes and artifacts related to her fight against the Alternates. She stared at the items, each a reminder of the battles she had fought and the ones still to come.

As she touched each item, her heart ached with regret and betrayal. But it was for their own good. She knew that she couldn’t keep her secrets forever. The time would come when she would need to trust Mark and Cesar with the truth to ultimately bring them into her world.

It was a daunting thought, but as she looked around her room, surrounded by the evidence of her battles and sacrifices, she felt a quiet strength building within her. She wasn’t just fighting for herself anymore; she was fighting for her friends, the semblance of normalcy they brought into her life, and the moments of laughter and companionship that had become her solace.

As she climbed into bed, the moonlight streaming through the window cast a silvery glow across her room. She closed her eyes, and for just a moment, she allowed herself to wish for simpler times—before she had to carry the world's weight on her shoulders.

But wishes were for fairy tales, and her life was far from a storybook.

*CRASH!*

She jolted out of her sleep when she heard a broken window downstairs. “What the…? An Alternate in my house!?” she grumbled, grabbing her weapon and hiding her arsenal and items in the secret compartment. 

╚⏤⏤⏤╗❀╔⏤⏤⏤⏤⏤╗❀╔⏤⏤⏤╝

Outside, oblivious to the crash, Mark and Cesar arrived at the front of her house. They both stepped out and looked at each other nervously. They hoped and prayed that they weren’t met with an angry Clean Bubbles stirred from her sleep or, worse, an Alternate that had already killed her.

“...Do you want to do it, mi amigo?” Cesar glanced at the teen wearing the gray sweater.

The teen shook his head towards his Hispanic friend. “No, you can do it.”

“What!? Why me!?” the teen in a tuxedo looked at him incredulously. “You’re going to chicken out on me!”

“You’re the one talking!” the teen in the gray sweater remarked. “Remember when we went to that FAKE haunted house once, and you got scared by a ghost who was my sister? You jumped in my arms, literally.”

Cesar flushed, his cheeks coloring as he remembered the embarrassing moment all too well. "Hold on a second–" he grumbled. "You screamed like a little girl when we went camping that time when a frog jumped on your face.”

The brown-haired teen scowled. “That was one time!” he protested. “And it was a surprise frog attack! Anyone would have screamed!”

“It wasn’t even THAT big!” The darker brown-haired Hispanic teen huffed. “Besides, it was YOUR fault who poked it!”

“Yeah,” Mark rolled his eyes at Cesar. “It’s like how you disturbed a tiny nest of owls and got pecked and screeched by a Barn Owl.”

The two bantered nervously outside Clean Bubbles' house. Their voices were hushed, mindful of the late hour and the possibility of waking her or attracting unwanted attention. They stood on the dimly lit street, the night heavy with anticipation and the weight of their unspoken concerns.

Cesar chuckled sheepishly at Mark's accusation, rubbing the back of his neck. "Hey, that was one time, okay? That bird sounded like a demon!"

Mark rolled his eyes, but a smile tugged at the corners of his lips. "Yeah, yeah, whatever you say, man. But this is different. We're not dealing with bird demons; we're dealing with Bubbles, and she's a lot scarier than any apparition."

Cesar nodded reluctantly in agreement, his gaze drifting back to Clean Bubbles' house. "Alright, fine. I'll do it. But if she gets mad and blasts me with some kind of magic, you owe me big time."

Mark grinned, clapping Cesar on the shoulder. "Deal. But I'll be right behind you, ready to run if things go south."

With a deep breath to steady his nerves, they approached Clean Bubbles' front door, each step heavy with uncertainty. They exchanged glances, gathering their courage before Cesar finally rang the doorbell. Silence followed the soft chime echoing slightly in the cool night air. They waited, ears straining for any sound from inside the house.

╚⏤⏤⏤╗❀╔⏤⏤⏤⏤⏤╗❀╔⏤⏤⏤╝

With Clean Bubbles, she cautiously walked downstairs, staying vigilant for anything that came up. Nothing seemed to be destroyed since she didn’t have a lot of stuff at her house. After all, she’s a minimalist. 

But what caught her eye was that one of the windows near the living room was shattered. Even a mini-statue of an owl was knocked over. “Oh, come on! Not the owl statue!” She rushed over, picked it up, and placed it back on its stand. “At least the Intruder plushie is safe…” She muttered, glancing at the hooded toy on the kitchen counter’s shelf. “Now, where in the world–”

She was cut off as she heard a low growl and cold breath hitting the back of her neck. Elongated claws aimed to strike her in the marble kitchen counter's reflection.

Clean Bubbles’ instincts kicked in before she could fully register the danger reflected in the kitchen counter's gleaming surface. She ducked and rolled away swiftly, honed by countless encounters of similar peril, narrowly escaping the lethal swipe aimed at her.

As she regained her footing, she faced her assailant—a grotesque creature with elongated limbs and a distorted face that barely resembled anything human. 

It was an Alternate, undoubtedly, and a particularly vicious one at that. Its eyes glowed with an evil red light, fixating on her with an intensity that chilled her to the bone.

"You're far from where you belong," the creature hissed, its voice a disturbing mix of glee and menace. "This ends tonight, Celestial Artisan."

The mention of her hidden identity made her blood run cold. The Alternates weren’t just attacking randomly; they knew who she was, or at least they suspected. Clean Bubbles clenched her jaw, tightening her grip on her weapon—a compact yet deadly blade that gleamed under the dim kitchen lights.

"I don't know what you're talking about," she retorted, trying to keep her voice steady. "And you’ve picked the wrong house to break into."

With a ferocious roar, the Alternate lunged at her again, faster and more aggressive than before. Clean Bubbles parried with her blade, sparks flying as she deflected its claws with precise, controlled movements. She was on her home turf now, and she would defend it with everything she had.

The creature snapped and swiped, each movement more desperate as it sought to overpower her. But Clean Bubbles was relentless, her attacks calculated and ruthless. She managed a sharp kick that sent the creature stumbling backward, giving her a moment to breathe. 

With a leap, she prepared to drive the blade into its chest, but she was slapped away.

*SMACK!*

She hit a shelf that was filled with books and tiny ceramic statues. The books tumbled and bonked on her head, but she had to catch the fragile props so they wouldn’t break when they fell. The fight tonight needed to be quiet. Any noise drawn would draw attention to bystanders or more Alternates, and it's already too much for her to handle. She needed to dispose of this Alternate in case it left alive to tell its “Lord and Savior” of her true identity. 

╚⏤⏤⏤╗❀╔⏤⏤⏤⏤⏤╗❀╔⏤⏤⏤╝

Seconds passed, and just as Cesar began to wonder if they should leave and try another time or try again. The night was too quiet, and every tiny sound seemed amplified under the veil of their concern.

“Mark, should we try again or wait?” He looked at his friend. They waited, the seconds stretching into what seemed like hours. No response came from inside the house.

“Let me try.” The male wearing the gray sweater pressed the doorbell, more insistently this time, while Cesar peered through the side window, trying to catch a glimpse of movement inside.

"Can you see anything?" Mark whispered, his voice tense. He looked at where his friend was looking.

Cesar shook his head and furrowed his brows. "No, nothing. It's a bit dark. Dang tinted windows.”

Mark's heart raced as they waited for a response. The tension in the air was palpable, each passing moment feeling like an eternity. He glanced around the dimly lit street, his senses on high alert, searching for any sign of movement or sound from inside the house.

"Just keep an eye out," Mark whispered back, his voice barely audible over the quiet night. He leaned closer to the door, straining to hear any faint sound from within.

Suddenly, a noise broke the silence—a low growl followed by what sounded like a struggle inside the house. Mark's heart skipped a beat, and he exchanged a worried glance with Cesar.

"Did you hear anything?" Cesar's voice was barely above a whisper, his eyes wide with concern.

“I did. Listen,” Mark motioned his friend to press his ear against the door.

The Hispanic male concentrated on picking up any frequency, but it seemed so… quiet. “What? I-I don’t hear anything at all, Mark.”

╚⏤⏤⏤╗❀╔⏤⏤⏤⏤⏤╗❀╔⏤⏤⏤╝

Inside, Clean Bubbles was engaged in a fierce battle with the Alternate, each move and countermove a testament to her training and resolve. The creature was relentless, but she was determined not to let it gain the upper hand. With a swift maneuver, she managed to pin it against the ground, her blade pressed against its throat.

"Who sent you?" she demanded, her voice hard as steel. "What do you want from me?"

The creature smirked, its eyes gleaming maliciously. "You know who sent me," it rasped. "And you know what we want. But you're too late, Celestial Artisan. The end is coming, and you can do nothing to stop it."

Before she could press further, a loud knock resounded through the house, startling her. The creature took advantage of her momentary distraction and kicked her back, freeing itself. Bubbles hissed as she hit her head against the ground, her blade leaving a gash across her wrist simultaneously.  “You can’t keep hiding forever, and your friends won’t be spared from the likes of us and our Lord and Savior.” It snarled as it approached her menacingly. 

“And you have been a thorn in my sanity.” Bubbles stood up, brushing off the wound before charging again. She did a quick baseball slide between the legs of the creature before standing up and hopping onto its back. She summoned tape before wrapping it around the creature's mouth. “Sorry ‘bout this, Alternate.” She readied her blade to stab it. It was a bit difficult since she couldn’t use magic, hence flashing lights and magical sound effects. But before she could bring down the blade, the inhuman creature grabbed her shirt before throwing her at the staircase of her house.

*THUD!*

Bubbles coughed and winced, feeling her back sore from hitting the steps. “Damn, staircase. I should’ve chosen carpet.” It was painful, considering that they were jabbing out. “AH!” She had to conjure up an axe before throwing it at the anomaly, which it simply side-stepped to avoid the prop.

“Ha! You missed–!” It was cut off as Bubbles leaped from the stairs, tackling it.

╚⏤⏤⏤╗❀╔⏤⏤⏤⏤⏤╗❀╔⏤⏤⏤╝

Mark's heart sank at Cesar's words. If his friend couldn't hear anything, then maybe they were overreacting. Maybe Clean Bubbles was just dealing with something mundane, and they were intruding on her privacy for no reason. But the memory of their conversation in the car, the worry etched on Cesar's face, kept nagging at him.

"Maybe we should just leave," Cesar’s friend suggested, his voice tinged with uncertainty. "I mean, she might just be asleep or something. We don't want to wake her up for no reason."

The black-haired male hesitated, torn between their concern for Clean Bubbles and the possibility of invading her privacy. "Yeah, maybe you're right," he conceded reluctantly. "Let's give her some space."

 Mark nodded, though a part of him felt uneasy about leaving without knowing for sure if Clean Bubbles was okay. But they had done their part by coming back and offering support. They couldn't force her to accept it if she didn't want to.

But before they could get the chance to step away from the door–

*CRUNCH!*

An axe blade pierced through Bubbles’s house's wooden door with a loud, sickening crunch of wood breaking. “AAH!!” Cesar screeched like a girl and hopped into Mark’s arms, huffing at the sudden weight he was carrying.

The axe blade, still quivering from the impact, protruded ominously through the door, a stark reminder of the genuine danger lurking just beyond it. Mark and Cesar stood frozen for a moment, their eyes wide with shock and fear. The banter and hesitation of moments ago evaporated into the cold night air, replaced by the chilling reality of their friend's peril.

“The hell!?” Cesar shook his head, trying to process what had transpired. Was Bubbles mad? Was she fighting someone or something? Was she combating one of those Alternates?

“Ahem!” Mark sarcastically cleared his throat, trying to breathe and see because his Hispanic friend held him in his arms. “Seriously, Cesar?”

His sarcasm temporarily broke the tension, and his friend in a tuxedo blushed, realizing his reaction had been a bit over the top. He quickly regained his composure Mark’s legs trembled under his friend’s weight. "Jesus, Cesar, get off!" Mark grunted, struggling under the sudden weight of his friend. He gently set Cesar down, his mind racing with panic. 

The two approached the door cautiously, Mark reaching out to slowly pull the axe free from the door. The metal screeched against the wood, a harsh, grating sound in the quiet night. With a final tug, he freed it, holding it warily as if unsure what to do next.

"Should we... go in?" Cesar whispered, his voice barely audible.

Mark nodded, setting the axe aside. "Of course. I’m going in," Mark declared, his voice firm. He tried the doorknob, only to find it locked. “Damn it. I should’ve known.” Without a second thought, he took a few steps back and then charged at the door, shoulder first.

*BAM!*

The door burst open under the force, and both boys stumbled into the dimly lit hallway. They were immediately met with the chaotic aftermath of a struggle: overturned furniture, broken items, and, more disturbingly, a dark, viscous substance splattered on the floor.

"Clean Bubbles?" Cesar called out tentatively, his voice echoing slightly in the quiet house.

There was no answer, just the oppressive silence of the house. Mark and Cesar exchanged a glance, their hearts pounding as they moved deeper into the home, cautious and alert to any signs of danger.

As they reached the kitchen, they stopped dead in their tracks. The scene before them was one of evident violence. The kitchen table was overturned, and more dark substance was smeared across the floor and walls. 

Inside, they found Clean Bubbles breathing heavily, a weapon in hand. The room was in disarray, furniture overturned, and more of that strange, dark substance staining the carpet. She had been in a fight that had taken a toll on her physically and mentally.

“B-Bubbles?” Mark shuddered with shock and surprise. His gaze fixated on his friend covered in some liquid while holding a strange weapon.

“M-Mark… Cesar?” She stuttered, turning to face her friends, fear and nervousness evident in her eyes. “I-I can explain… maybe…”

“Clean Bubbles…” The Hispanic teen’s eyes widened in horror as he pointed to the substance on her clothes. “I-Is that… blood?” He couldn’t tell due to the dim light of the house. He frowned, suspecting that she was more than just an ordinary girl. “Have you been…?”

“H-Hey, let’s not jump to conclusions.” Mark tried to calm his friend.

“Have you been murdering people!? Are you an Alternate!?” Cesar accused, pointing a finger at her as she flinched.

“N-No!” She remarked, squeaking as he grabbed her by the collar.

“Tell us what’s going on! Don’t lie to us anymore! You’re hiding something!” He demanded angrily, shaking her back and forth. She was getting dizzy from the vigor shaking.

Clean Bubbles winced as Cesar shook her, her eyes darting between him and Mark, pleading for understanding. "I'm not lying, Cesar!" she protested, her voice shaky with fear and frustration. "I'm not an Alternate, and I haven't been... murdering anyone!"

“Then what have you been doing in secret!?” Cesar's voice was filled with mistrust and betrayal, his grip on Clean Bubbles' collar tightening just a fraction. Mark, however, maintained his calm, understanding that escalating the situation wouldn't help them uncover the truth.

He stepped forward, placing a hand on Cesar's shoulder to stop him from shaking her further. "Calm down, Cesar," he said firmly, his voice low but steady. "Let's hear her out."

However, it seemed that his friend wasn’t going to give up. “Mi amigo, what do you mean ‘let her hear out?!’” He turned to his friend, gesturing to her while holding her with one hand. “Mark, she has been lying to us the entire time, and now, she’s been killing–whatever it is–in secret!”

Before Mark or Bubbles could speak, he continued. “Look, everyone, and we are already dealing with these ‘Alternates’ in Mandela County, creatures that can mimic and shapeshift. People can’t figure out how to kill them, but the only one who can is this ‘Celestial Artisan!’ I don’t want to believe that Bubbles is an Alternate, nor the fact that she has been putting herself in danger and is almost getting herself killed! Or even worse, working for the Alternates as a human for them!”

Clean Bubbles' heart sank at Cesar's accusation, feeling the weight of his words like a physical blow. She knew she couldn't blame him for thinking the worst; after all, she had kept so many secrets from them, and her recent struggles had only added to their suspicions.

But she couldn't let them believe she was some kind of monster. Not when they were the closest thing she had in this chaotic world.

“Look, put her down. She’s already stressed enough.” Mark tightened his grip on his friend’s shoulder.

A tense moment rang out before Cesar sighed. “Fine… but you need to explain. NOW.” 

She took a deep breath, careful at how much she needed to conceal and conceal. She knew that it wasn’t the time right now. “Look… I-I was simply defending myself from an Alternate. I-I wasn’t killing anyone.” She partially lied, hiding the fact that she killed an Alternate. Because in their current situation, she feared that some Alternates might be watching secretly. If Mark and Cesar knew she was fighting, the Alternates would realize she had allies and could use them against her. “I-It broke through my window… and I used a kitchen knife to fend it off, but I didn’t kill it since it was… abnormally strong like it is.”

Another moment of tense silence passed before Mark spoke. “There’s more to that story… isn’t it?” His voice was filled with solemn confusion. “You’re origins that you told me… you’re not actually from here, are you? You never came from here, nor do you even have parents or a sister. Am I… wrong?”

She felt her heart tighten at Mark's words, realizing that the depth of her secrets was beginning to surface, and her facade was crumbling. The room seemed to close around her, each second stretching out as she searched for the right words, knowing full well that whatever she said next could forever alter their relationship.

She sighed, a long and weary exhalation filled with the weight of her burdens. “You’re not wrong, Mark,” she finally admitted, her voice low and fraught with emotion. Her gaze shifted between Mark and Cesar, seeing the confusion and concern etched on their faces. “I... I didn’t want to involve you or drag you into this chaos. But yes, I’m not from here—not in the way you think.”

Cesar's expression hardened slightly, a mix of hurt and betrayal passing fleetingly across his features. “So, what? You’ve been lying to us this whole time?” His voice cracked slightly, displaying a rare vulnerability.

“I-In a way, yes, b-but–” Her resolve wavered, and for a moment, she considered telling them everything—the truth about her identity as the Celestial Artisan, her battles against the Alternates, and her endless struggle to maintain a semblance of normalcy while protecting the dimensions from the chaos that threatened to engulf them all.

BUT THIS WASN’T RIGHT.

The gravity of what she was about to reveal was pressing down on her. She realized that exposing the full depth of her secret could endanger her, Mark, and Cesar. If the Alternates ever discovered that her friends knew the truth, it could put them directly in harm's way.

She took a deep breath, trying to compose herself. Her mind raced for a way to protect her friends while maintaining the necessary secrecy. "Look, I... I've been dealing with a lot," she started again, her voice steadier this time. “And yes, there's a lot I haven't told you. Not because I don't trust you, but because I was trying to protect you both."

Mark and Cesar exchanged a look, the tension between them palpable. They were struggling with the revelations and the evident breach of trust. Yet, it was also clear that they cared deeply for their friend, their concern etched in the lines of their faces.

Cesar's expression softened slightly, his earlier anger giving way to concern. "Bubbles, we're your friends," he said, his voice gentle. "Whatever you're dealing with, you don't have to do it alone. We want to help you, not just be kept in the dark."

Mark nodded in agreement, his resolve firm. "He's right. We've seen enough to know you're not just our friend but also someone fighting a bigger battle. Let us help, Bubbles. Whatever it is, we can handle it. So please… tell us."

Clean Bubbles looked into the earnest eyes of her friends, torn between the desperate need to share her burdens and the overwhelming fear of putting them in danger. The silence hung heavy in the air, filled with the weight of unspoken truths and the faint sounds of the night creeping around the damaged doorway. Her eyes began to water up as she bit her lower quivering lip. She gripped her shoulders tightly as she looked away, her guilt evident in her body gestures.

As much as she appreciated the help, the risk was too significant and dangerous. She knew it’d get her in trouble and the boys killed.

“I… I can’t.” She shook her head, wiping away the tears of frustration. “Not… now. I can’t.”

Cesar blinked, bewildered. “What do you mean?” He asked. “We’re friends–”

“We’re not,” she cut him off.

“I… We can’t be.” She looked away from them, her back facing the two. “I don’t deserve to be your friend… never in the first place.” She narrowed her blue eyes to the ground, self-loathing herself for being so carefree in a world of horrors and dangers that kept coming in 24/7.

Mark and Cesar stood stunned, the harshness of her words slicing through the tension like a knife. The silence that followed was heavy, filled with the weight of her sudden withdrawal and the pain it brought with it.

Cesar was the first to recover, his voice soft but insistent, tinged with hurt. "Bubbles, why would you say that? After all we've been through? You're more than just a friend to us. You're part of our lives now."

The girl kept her back turned, her body tense, and every fiber of her being screaming in protest against her words. But she believed it was necessary to keep them safe—this distance. The risk of them getting hurt because of her battles was too high.

Mark stepped forward, his voice firm yet gentle, trying to bridge the gap her words had created. "We don't care about the dangers, Bubbles. Whatever this is, whatever you're hiding, it's not just your burden to carry. Let us help you."

But she shook her head slowly, resolute yet heartbroken. "You don't understand," she whispered, her voice cracking. "This isn't just about what I'm hiding. It's about keeping you out of harm's way. The more you know, the more danger you're in. I can't... I won't let that happen."

Cesar, his frustration growing, stepped closer. "So what? Will you just push us away? After everything, we just... stop being friends?" His voice rose, a note of anger mingling with his disbelief.

Bubbles turned around, her eyes glistening with unshed tears, her resolve faltering as she faced them. "I don't want to," she admitted, her voice whispering. "But it's better this way for everyone. You have to leave. You need to go."

“So you’re just going to leave–abandoned us!?” The Hispanic teen exclaimed incredulously. 

“JUST GO!”

She snapped, holding back the tears of guilt. “Please…” Her voice softened, filled with fragile emotion, and she never wanted to show them she was vulnerable.

The air hung heavy with tension as Mark and Cesar exchanged uncertain glances. They could see the pain etched on Clean Bubbles' face, the turmoil within her. But they also knew that pushing her further might only drive her away.

Cesar sighed, his frustration giving way to resignation. He reached out a hand as if to offer comfort but hesitated, unsure if she would even accept it. "Okay, Bubbles," he said softly, his voice heavy with regret. "We'll... we'll go."

Mark nodded in agreement, his heart heavy with the weight of their fractured friendship. "Yeah," he echoed, his voice barely above a whisper. "Just... take care of yourself, Bubbles. And if you ever need us... you know where to find us. Let us know."

With one last lingering look filled with unspoken words and stifled worries, Mark and Cesar turned and left the house, the broken door swinging slightly on its hinges behind them. Their footsteps faded into the night, leaving Clean Bubbles alone with her secrets and the remnants of the battle that had unfolded.

As the sound of their car engine started and faded away, Clean Bubbles sank to the floor, her back against the wall. “Damn it… I’m so stupid…” She drew her knees to her chest, wrapping her arms around them tightly. The fight had drained her, not just physically but emotionally and mentally. The loneliness of her double life was never more palpable than at that moment, echoing hollowly in the quiet of her home.

She closed her eyes, the events of the evening replaying in her mind like a nightmarish loop. Her friends' faces, filled with concern and confusion, haunted her. She had pushed them away for their safety and to keep them out of the dangerous world she navigated. But the cost of that decision weighed heavily on her, a burden she wasn't sure she was strong enough to bear alone anymore.

The house was silent, eerily so. The only sounds were the occasional creaks and whispers of the wind against the shattered window. It was a stark reminder of the destruction and the potential for more if she couldn't contain the threats that sought to breach her world.

As the night stretched, she grappled with the harsh reality of her existence—a reality that demanded sacrifice and solitude, even at the cost of the friendships she held most dear.

With a deep, steadying breath, Clean Bubbles stood up. She walked over to the broken window and looked into the night. The quiet streets of Mandela County offered no answers, but the stars above shimmered with a faint promise of hope.

She turned away from the window and began to clear the debris and chaos. Each movement was mechanical, a way to keep her mind focused and away from the overwhelming flood of emotions threatening to break through her carefully constructed barriers. 

Yet, it didn’t feel the same as the other days when she came home. Usually, it would be simpler for her to wave off these incidents, but now, she can’t make them forget about the conversation. She also doesn’t want to forget about them, too, but it was for their own sake… maybe.

She sighed as she fixed everything before heading back upstairs, ready for bed. She sobbed one last thing before sleeping.

"Mark... Cesar... I'm so... sorry."

Matthias, what was your first reaction to Louis? Did you immediately dislike him?

I think I just didn't figure out my feelings about him until after I realized the French language barely suited my mouth; I studied daily and nightly under various tutelage - including my Father's, but it was always.. inadequate.

Everyone was happy... Except for me. I.. struggled to make friends even when I'd lived in Prague, and what few friends I had made - I suddenly had to say goodbye to.

... Sometimes I find myself wondering if I would have been more fond of him if we'd never moved to Paris. If I could have been just as happy as this imposter.

Or if this really was the walking, talking nightmare by my parent's design - a reminder of my imperfections, or simply wishful thinking on their part.

I think it was the day I found a poster of him that I finally realized how I felt.

How I genuinely felt.

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ok but what if Vox aired the footage of Alastor getting his shit rocked by Adam thinking haha i'm so evil he'll be so EMBARRASSED except it backfires and Alastor becomes an overnight folk hero in Hell which he actually hates even fucking more and now neither of them are happy

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Part 2

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4.1

Scaramouche, Scaramouche will you do the fandango?

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There is something about the mirroring of how Ei and Nahida handled their respective Harbinger enemies (abandoning Scaramouche and killing Signora versus reasoning with Dottore and taking Scaramouche in when no one else cares to). It's like.... Nahida had every reason to toss Scara aside and blame him for the wrongs of the Sages, and she IS angry that he has benefitted from the suffering of her people and continues to lash out at both Nahida herself and the traveller. But he's just. He's a puppet and he was made to do things and in the aftermath of the cataclysm he couldn't live up to those expectations, Ei denied him the opportunity. So now he's scrambling for a semblance of purpose and dragging Sumeru into his identity crisis, but Nahida sees the tool he's being used as, sees that he's been denied personhood by those who control him (like her! Her heart (gnosis) powering the akasha while she rots) and she treats him with kindness.

She could kill him. Could send him back to the Fatui. Could have him imprisoned. He's a comatose robot, he doesn't need her to fuss over him but she's!!! She's a kind goddess and she understands what it's like to be tossed aside and denied your birthright purpose.

(And Ei kills and commits to violence and cruelty, but she's also just a product of the trauma she's had. But then did Signora deserve to die? She sowed chaos in Inazuma, but Ei let that happen. Ei killed her not out of anger or malice but cold judgement when she lost the duel, an uncaring punishment where Nahida is overflowing with compassion even for those who've hurt her).

BETRAYALS

∗༝*◦✦ meeting him in shakkei pavilion.

BEFORE READING, this includes wanderer’s backstory, added scenes, removed scenes, and the timeline would be confusing.

|| NEXT▶ ||

You were not a god.

You played the game and had your heart flutter, break, and be stolen by many characters; the lack of romantic content would send you to your fantasies filled with what-ifs and imaginations of how characters would act if you do this or do that.

At your first arrival, you were confused about where you were, so what if you played the game? The game was not realistic, it was a 3D game with drawn or modeled items, and when you saw everything, it wasn’t the same as the game.

The difference was huge and so was the troubled feeling in your heart.

Almost everything was handed to you when you started walking around the place; the river was incredibly clean to drink on, the trees always have something to give, and the abandoned places have fabrics to give you.

Still, it’s not that you can actually feel safe in this place, not when everything was not as ‘modern’ as your world was, and you never knew how you had come to transport in this kind of place in the first place.

It was only when you stumbled upon a domain at night, the marbled structure with a symbol of three pointed sides, glowing together with the nearby plants that you don’t recall the name of because it was the least of your worries.

Genshin Impact.

You read works like that fandom, can’t say that you were as dedicated as the rest were, but you knew a few, because you tried to study the characters due to their appearance or their interesting personalities.

Alternative universes, and you were transmigrated like that? Unbelievable. You don’t have the power that those alternative universes have in which you were the god, and you didn’t have anything special; you weren’t aether or lumine, you were just you.

Tired, you sat by the tree and hugged your knees to your chest while using the fabrics you found as a way to keep yourself warm; you didn’t feel hopeful. You had no information about where exactly in Teyvat you were, what year, or who were the trustworthy people currently alive.

Frustrated to be away from the place you were used to and comfortable, tears stung your eyes, prompting you to place your palms over them as if you’re trying to shove the liquid back in your eyes—it worked though.

You shed a few tears, only a few, and the glowing light was a comforting feeling to you; it’s only been a day and you can’t help but wish to see a few people that was known in the game so they could be your source of comfort or the reason for you to know where to start.

How could you rest in an unfamiliar place? You closed your eyes, your tears piling up again even if you thought that your mind no longer had thoughts. You pulled the fabrics closer to your body and you tried to rest.

It’s too cold.

The domain couldn’t be too dangerous, you assumed, because in the game you have to turn on the mechanic to summon the monsters, and you could use the warmth of the place—it was not like you were in Dragonspine after all.

You looked up and held on the domain doors, pushing it open to have yourself be comforted by the light, but dread filled your body when someone was actually in the domain; you never encountered anyone yet in your travels, animals, sure, but not humans or monsters.

The person had a purple cloak, white clothing, purple hair and—you recognize him; this was not a person, but the puppet of the Shogun. The character you cried over was just a few meters away from you.

It was canon that he was pretty, he was described to be.

Your heart clenched as you saw him, laying in the middle of the domain that looked like it was taken from a place in Inazuma and shut locked in the domain, like a garden inside a bottle—as far as you know, he had no idea it was a domain.

Even if the trees were pretty and the view was a sight for sore eyes, you can’t help but tear up again; out of all the people you had to see first, it had to be the character your heart broke for so many times.

You now know the year it took place and where you were, and it did not ease the pain in your heart to know he could’ve been here for who knows how long, but you had to wipe your tears.

You wanted to help him, but what can you do? Not even you were from the world, no one knows you here, and you weren’t any different from him. You also didn’t want to change his future, because what if he doesn’t meet Lessor Lord Kusinali?

“Scara—” you said but your mouth clammed.

He has no name yet.

The puppet, however, turned to you, his face of curiosity and yours teary but you smiled regardless. At least you can take him out of the domain earlier than a certain samurai would, but you never knew the details.

You held the worn out fabric close to yourself, the scenery inside the domain being warmer than outside. You’re not sure what to say as you hesitated to even come near him; you can’t just give him a hug out of nowhere no matter how your heart breaks at his innocent stare.

“I’m sorry…” you whispered. “I did not know you were here and it was just cold outside.”

Your cheeks felt warm, embarrassed, and you’re not even sure if the puppet right now can even talk to you or understand your words because he was someone that wasn’t given a name before he was discarded.

Even your reason felt stupid, you sounded like you were invading someone’s home when it was a domain that anyone can walk in and walk out of—or can they?

You looked back and didn’t see the domain door and your heart dropped. This was the kind of domain without exit until you finish what is at the end of the domain, and you don’t remember what was inside this domain because it has been so long.

“Are you okay?”

Your heart nearly fluttered because this was someone who was now a blunt and not really soft-spoken person in the game, so hearing this tone on the character felt different, uncomfortably different.

“Oh, yes, uhm…” you said, stuttering your words a little before you hesitantly approached. “I… I’m sorry, but do you know what’s inside this place?”

To your observation though, he looked interested and flustered at the same time; you felt bad, because it was most likely because you were the first person he talked to ever since Ei left him there.

You nodded and then he replied, “Nothing…”

“Nothing?” your anxiety paused for a moment because you were bewildered, and he just nodded at you.

If there was nothing inside, then why was he still here? He could’ve gotten out on his own—unless he didn’t know how to get out in the first place or did he not know it was even possible?

“I… I see,” you muttered. “Hey… uhm… I’ll trust you since you said there was nothing…”

What else are you supposed to say? You can’t reveal anything from the game because it could affect the future, you thought of it like that as if you didn’t change the future by being the first person to meet him, and now you were going to attempt exiting the domain.

You felt a little stiff as you smiled at him and waved, the redness of the spot beneath your eyes and nose worrying him for some reason, because he never saw a human before, a human like you, at least.

He followed you, and you didn’t feel uncomfortable with him following you, except for the fact that he was following you—makes sense?

If you did find the exit, he would leave early too and you’ll destroy the timeline hours after you just arrived in Teyvat. You weren’t confident that you could give him a better life than what was ahead of him because you did not pay attention to details.

However, you do know that you can teach him to properly deal with his pain and emotions when the time comes, but you weren’t someone who graduated at psychology or anything that involves mental health; you’re just someone who observes.

“What are you doing?”

You can never get used to his tone, but he watches you slide the doors to the side or push them open in an attempt to find the exit, and he even follows you down the ladders and such.

“Investigating…?” you said but it sounded like a question, even the puppet was confused about your words, and you felt like you were going to flush again. “I’m just looking.”

You didn’t want to say you wanted to leave, because you didn’t want to hurt his feelings, you were probably—are—the first person he had ever met, and if you feel like if you found the exit, you wouldn’t be able to leave him without the shame and guilt building over you.

“I’ll go investigate with you,” he said and you felt something punch you in the gut by how innocent and soft-spoken he was. “I’ll help you.”

You smiled a little and then you turned around to continue walking.

In just a minute, you realized the puppet had no idea what investigating actually was and he was pushing and sliding doors open as you were earlier, in a way, what he was doing was right, but he looked endearing like that.

Endearing—the thought made your heart break again for the nth time. This person near you was someone who made you cry for days because you hoped his life would be better, because you felt like you understood his pain even if you hadn’t experienced it in the way he did.

You helped look around for exits, and you often look at drawers as well. You found a few mora and then when he noticed you were keeping circular gold coins, he started giving you the same looking coins whenever he sees one; it felt like you were robbing the place.

“Thank you, Kabu—” you clammed your mouth again. “Just… thank you.”

Clearly, as someone who never really had a social life, the puppet didn’t know how to respond to you, and your heart softened immensely. You continued, “The response usually is… ‘you are welcome’ or ‘you’re welcome’... It also can be ‘no problem’ if you weren’t burdened by what you were doing or ‘I’m happy to help’.”

“You’re welcome.”

Your heart warmed up, but then you realized that the reason why the puppet responded that way is because he probably can’t distinguish his own feelings right now; he had no lessons about his feelings and most likely didn’t know if he felt burdened by helping you or if he was happy to help.

You felt like going on your knees, crying and groveling in pain, because you messed up with him each time you opened your mouth to say something.

In the end, the last place you two checked just had to be the exit; you never tried to open it but it was the last door there, so it could be it for real, but you can’t find yourself to open it with the puppet in your presence.

“I realized you were looking for doors,” the puppet says. “Are you leaving?”

You don’t understand why he said leaving as if he didn’t plan to leave himself. You looked at him and whispered, “I really liked your company, even if I want you to come with me, I can’t do anything for you out there… I don’t know what will be out there, and I can’t help you…”

It was painful that you had to make the decision for the both of you, because you can’t trust the puppet, who barely had any interactions or say at the start of his life, make a decision; it was like he was a child in your eyes.

“You don’t know what’s out there?” he asked, his head tilting to look at you and your expression; he noticed that the redness of your eyes and nose disappeared. “How did you find me?”

“I wasn’t really looking for you, I was looking for a place to stay because it’s cold outside,” you said before you realized that barely hours had passed so it could still be cold outside. “I… you won't happen to be bothered if I stay, do you?”

“Can I… know more about you?”

He is so cute, once again, you want to grovel and cry about what he was going to go through and the fact you could do something about it but you didn’t want to because you weren’t confident enough to give him a better life.

You nodded before you sat down near the exit, leaning your back on the wall. You smiled at him and then pats the space beside you, at least, you want to try being beside a character you deeply adored.

Perhaps he felt some connection with you.

The puppet asked about your life and the basic information you know about Teyvat; he felt something he couldn’t point out when you told him that you don’t know anyone outside, it’s as if you two are new to the world, but you were human, no?

He doesn’t understand how you don’t know anyone and no one knows you, certainly, you’ve been outside longer than he was.

You had to pretend that you’ve been sheltered and it’s your first time going outside, which was, in a way in your modern life, true; you were quite introverted. He sensed a connection there.

He suddenly claims that he wants to go outside with you; he wants to experience what it is like outside too, with you, who he felt a connection with—someone he could relate to—someone he thinks he can trust, even if he wasn’t familiar with that concept yet.

You tried to explain to him that it won’t be easy, but he still wants to be with you still, you two are exploring the world for the first time, and he likes that thought.

You didn’t try to give him a name, even as he held your hand when you two left the domain after you took a nap to see that the sun was rising.

It wasn’t inevitable, when you entered that domain, you could’ve steeled your heart to go through everything and then leave him, but you couldn’t just ignore him, because for you, he was human.

He wanders around a lot, had you not been holding his hand, you would’ve lost him already, but you did let go of his hand and let him explore, just hoping he would scream if he ever encountered anything—not that you can save him though, but will save him.

You looked at the domain, trying to remember where Tatarasuna was. Maybe, just maybe, if he’s not too attached, you can safely leave him with the first person that ever found him: Kisaragi.

Tatarasuna was near a domain, but this domain, what domain is it? You don’t even remember. If Kisaragi found the puppet, then Tatarasuna must be nearby, no?

You look back to see that if you squint, you can see Seirai Island. You really must be near Tatarasuna, if you keep walking, you’re bound to find it—or if you wait Kisaragi might come by the domain and find you two.

You kneel away from the water and drop all the currency from the pouch; Mora was something you had a lot of in the game before you started leveling up a lot of characters just because you like them.

It can barely be used for food. You barely had 50 Mora with you.

The puppet watches you curiously and he comes back and kneels down beside you, wondering about your expression as your finger circles around the coin, refusing to acknowledge that you barely have money to go on.

You look at the puppet, prompting him to look at you. He’s so pretty and so carefree since he barely knows anything yet, and you didn’t want to teach him about poverty so early.

“Did you finish looking around?” you ask as you gather the coins and put them back in the pouch, and the pouch didn’t have some sort of void so you can feel its weight.

He nodded and you smiled at him; it won’t be easy to decide his future. You didn’t want to change his life in the game you were in, but you also didn’t want him to go down the road he did.

“Come on…” you stood up and offered your hand to him, hopefully, you would spot chests or eggs to cook. “Let’s look for a place to stay, but if we can’t… we might have to go back here and then look around again.”

THIS IS HEIZNX, IF YOU NEED TO BE MEAN BE MEAN TO ME :((( this is spoiler for the future chapters, ngl i want to put them in one but for some reason i limit myself to 2-3k words per post. im so not over his backstory even though i havent played it yet like i dont wanna break my heart

Okay so I redesigned my redesign of AM to make it fit more on the AU + I need him to look as miserable as a sock vomited by a dog. Also included very vague concept art for some scenes, I’m not the best at landscapes.

Regarding my OC’s dynamic with AM, I’m still figuring out some stuff but I made this to put it simply

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