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qmintea · 7 months

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𝐀 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐬𝐢𝐜𝐤 𝐏𝐮𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐭'𝐬 𝐀𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐬𝐢𝐬 : 𝐈𝐈 ‧₊˚✩彡

wanderer x gn! reader

[[ prologue || ao3 ]]

2. Your thoughts seldom matched his own.

This was no overstatement, nor was it an exaggeration, mind you. The Wanderer could not for the life of him understand the way you came to your conclusions, why you made the decisions you did. He didn't understand how he saw himself in you, when you couldn't be any more different to what he was, as a person. Of course, this was most likely accredited to the simple fact that you were of different natures, he'd decided.

He never expected to see you again after what happened at the Zubayr Theatre. Well, he didn't expect to see you again before that either, but you had a knack for surprising him like that.

Regardless, he's been avoiding the Grand Bazaar like the plague, choosing to coop himself up in the Sanctuary of Surasthana instead. On the rare occasion he did leave, it was only to submit his papers to the Vahumana Darshan, and he immediately left once he was done. It's not that he was afraid of confronting you, or being confronted by you; nonsense, he was just… focusing on his duties, as an efficient aide should.

Buer didn't share his ideology.

"You haven't gotten me Candied Ajilenakh Nuts in a while." she says one day, in that matter of fact tone of hers. He was writing at the time. He's been doing it more often lately.

"You didn't ask." he replies, and dips the nib of his pen into the ink jar.

"I never had to ask before." she muses, and sits down next to him with her tiny arms folded on her lap. The Wanderer sighs. When Buer sits down like that, it usually means a particularly lengthy lesson for him.

"I forgot, then."

"You didn't forget." Buer shakes her head. "Is something the matter, Hat Guy?"

"No." he says, staring intently at the paragraphs in front of him.

"Does it have something to do with the person who brought us Havalmadz?"

"I-" he presses down too hard, and ink sprays all over the page. He groans. "Lord Kusanali, have you been spying again?"

"Not at all!" Buer smiles innocently. The Wanderer can never tell if she's bluffing it, whenever she pulls that look. "It was just a guess. Was I right?"

He says nothing, though that in itself was answer enough for Buer.

"I see. Did you two disagree on something?"

"..something like that." he sighs. He can never hide anything from Buer for too long when she gets curious.

"Sometimes, a Rishboland Tiger might eat a fox and get diarrhea. You can't really tell whether the diarrhea was caused by eating the fox itself, or something inside the fox's stomache." Buer says all this in a rather contemplative tone. "Does that make sense?"

Not at all. A little bit? He just tends to lose focus whenever Buer chooses to use nature's digestive waste as a subject for her analogies. He's yet to find it in himself to talk to her about it.

"I don't see how a Rishboland Tiger has anything to do with me, Lord Kusanali."

Buer gives him a look. He winces at his mistake; he only ever called her by that name when he was keeping secrets.

"Well," Buer smiles, "The Rishboland Tiger wouldn't know why his belly is upset, but you could find out, couldn't you, Hat Guy?"

Buer stares at him. He stares at her back.

He looks away first.

His quill and parchment lay abandoned on the table, and he finds himself locked out of the Sanctuary for the rest of the day.

He clicks his tongue. What does it matter if the Rishboland Tiger doesn't know, anyway? It would still have to suffer for its foolishness, in the end.

He summons a rush of Anemo, and heads in a direction completely opposite from the Zubayr Theatre. He was no tiger, and you were no fox, and he certainly wasn't having an upset stomache from eating you. He wasn't about to open that can of worms any time soon, thanks.

Surprisingly, he does not hear Buer's chiding voice in his head. Really, that should have been his first hint.

He goes where the rising winds lead him, and when he lets his feet touch the ground at last, he finds himself on the outskirts of Vanarana. He doesn't enter the forest, and instead treads on its borders.

And because fate most definitely has it out for him, who else would he find but you, standing in the distance. Surrounded by Rishboland Tigers. Because of course life would shove this kind of thing, this painfully obvious lesson on morals or whatever, in his face.

He wonders if Buer knew. A faint giggle in the back of his mind tells him she most definitely did.

He calls on that familiar rush of Anemo once again, and races headfirst towards you.

He should have known better than to underestimate your capabilities. You mow through all three of the beasts before he even reaches you, pummeling them into submission. You move with the elegance of an elephant traipsing through a field of mice – that is to say, none at all. But what you lacked in grace, you made up for in sheer ferocity. Your vision crackled with a wild glow when you fought.

As relieved as he was that he didn't need to save your ass from danger, he's starting to regret rushing in, because now you've turned around and spotted him too.

"Oh." you shuffle your feet, lowering your weapon. It still amazes him, how quickly your demeanor shifts. "Hello, wanderer."

Has the air always felt this suffocating?

He wants to run. He wants nothing more than to return to his life behind the walls of the sanctuary, safe from whatever's stuck in his damn chest that goes wild in your presence. But he can't. Not when you looked so.. disappointed.

"Hello," he says, and mumbles your name.

"What brings you to this part of town?" you try to joke, but it comes out rather depressingly. He winces.

"I could ask you the same thing."

You sigh. "Y'know, just gathering wood and stuff. For the.. puppets."

You say the word like it's forbidden. You both fall into momentary silence.

You speak quietly, tugging on your satchel. "I could still show you them. If you want."

"...okay."

You smile just a little when he nods. You open your bag, and gently pull out a wooden doll, no bigger than your torso. The clothes it wore were dyed in soft hues, and it looked a little bit like you, he thinks, a warm smile carved into its face.

"I made this for a family member." you tell him, cradling the puppet with care. "They're not around anymore."

He doesn't speak, and steps closer towards you. His fingers reach out to brush against the puppet. You don't make any move to stop him.

Buer was right. He would never admit it, and he would continue to argue with his own opinions, but she was always right. Foolish little feline, Rishboland Tiger he was. A hypocrite, for ever shunning you, the way his creator shunned him. For something you didn't do.

"I don't know why I upset you the other day," you whisper, "But I'm sorry."

He thinks you were as much of a fool as he was, for accepting him. For apologising when he should be the one to do so. Your mind, your heart, far too kind, too human for him to comprehend.

But perhaps something could be forged in your differences. Buer once said he wasn't as heartless as he thought. Perhaps she could be right.

"..don't be," he whispers back, "..it wasn't your fault to begin with."

©wanderstarr

they made up finally!! also hehe new header

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qmintea · 7 months

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𝐀 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐬𝐢𝐜𝐤 𝐏𝐮𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐭'𝐬 𝐀𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐬𝐢𝐬 : 𝐈 ‧₊˚✩彡

wanderer x gn! reader

[[ prologue || ao3 ]]

'A HYPERSPECIFIC CASE ANALYSIS ON INTERSPECIES RELATIONSHIPS AND THEIR INHERENT INCOMPATIBILITY : A GROUNDED THEORY STUDY'

The Wanderer tapped his pen against the table. The title was very persuasive in its own right, if he did say so himself. Still, he would need convincing points to support his claim. Curse the Vahumana pricks for drilling this damn process into his head. He starts to map out his arguments in inky script.

His hands practically glide across the piece of paper, leaving neatly scrawled loops in its wake.

A list of reasons to deny his wavering inhibitions.

1. You were a puppeteer.

That in itself should have been an omen, given the nature of his existence. How foolish would it be of him, to be abandoned by a creator of puppets twice? To be fair, he didn't quite know this little fact about you until the second time he met you.

The Zubayr Theatre. Scholar he may be, but the allure of a stage had always caught his eye, even when his memories were incomplete. He did have a penchant for theatrical names, after all, in his past incarnations. Still, he never took the initiative to go near of his own volition. As often as he visited the Grand Bazaar, he usually stayed a good distance away from that corner of the market.

He finds himself hovering from a distance, again, when he spots a familiar face in the crowd. You, waddling in front of the Zubayr stage with a comically tall stack of fabric in your arms blocking your view.

In any other case, he would have minded his own business. Hah, he should have minded his own business, even in this case. But his legs seemed to move faster than his mind could process it, and next thing he knew he was by your side, swiping a good chunk of the fabric from your grasp so you could actually see.

"Wh-HEY!.." you whip around at him, and he catches a glimpse of your vision aglow as bright as your glare, but it fades away when you look at him. "You!"

"Me." he says in reply. He casually rearranges the fabric he'd grabbed into a neater pile.

You look at him funny, and your confusion melts into a warm smile. You seem to do that often, shaking off confusion like the morning dew rolls off a leaf.

You laugh quietly, nudging him in his ribs. "Aren't you such a gentleman, always helping me out?"

He scoffs, turning his face away from you. "Not my fault you're always in need of help when I'm around. I'm not an asshole, you know."

"Could've fooled me, Hat Guy."

He cringes. "..who told you that name?"

You laugh again, gleefully. "Didn't know you were so popular around here. Y'know, outside of the whole Archon's Right Hand Man you got going for you."

"I'm just making the most of what I'm capable of." he huffs. "If people find it such an interesting topic, then that's their problem."

"It's admirable." you grin. "You're amazing."

His knees almost shake for just a split second. He coughs awkwardly, and hides behind the shade of his hat.

"Flattery won't get you any extra favours." he says, and starts to walk.

You chase after him, and fall into step by his side. "Oh? But you're doing me a favour now. Checkmate."

"I won't hesitate to drop all this back onto you."

He wouldn't, he thinks.

"You wouldn't," you laugh.

Damn it.

He asks you a question in lieu of a reply. "In any case, isn't it unfair that you get to know my name?"

A roundabout way to ask for yours.

"Hm, is it?" you glance at him cheekily. "But I think I earned that knowledge fair and square, after all the asking around I did."

His brows furrowed in thought, and he felt a tug in the corner of his lips. "You asked about me?"

This time, you're the one whose footsteps stutter, looking at anywhere but him. Part of him takes glee in knowing he could have the same affect on you as you did on him.

"W-well," you clear your throat, "I was just.. you could call it getting to know my new home. Yeah, that!"

He would tease you more, but his greedy mind grabbed at the chance of learning something about you. "New? You're not from around here?"

"I've travelled around so much I can barely remember where I'm from," you shrugged. "But yeah, I'm finally settling down here."

"I see."

"Yeah." you nod. "I met Enteka last night, and when I helped her out with that psycho guy, she offered to introduce me to Nilou."

A lot of thoughts race through his mind as you talk. For one, he's a bit bemused at the notion that you would be so invested in helping a woman you just met the night before. He had assumed you were lifelong friends, the way you defended the acting manager that day. On the other hand, it did seem like something you would do, from what he's gathered of you. But more importantly..

"Nilou?"

"Yeah! I got myself a job here thanks to her. Apparently, Nilou mentioned to Enteka that the theatre needed more people around, so here I am!"

"Oh? And what do you do, then?" he tilts his head. "Besides flailing around blindly and carrying things like an idiot?"

"Hey!" you punch his shoulder lightly. "I'll have you know I'm very skilled at craftsmanship!"

"Really?" he drawls.

"Yeah really! I'm like, super popular. All the rage."

"It's weird that I've never heard of you then."

"What, you've never heard of the amazing–"

From the top of the Zubayr stage, a middle aged woman yells out a name, cutting you off. You whip around to look at her. Huh, that's one way to learn what you're called, he supposes.

"Rekhar!" you call back. "Need something?"

"Yeah, would you mind bringing the materials up here instead?"

"Sure thing!"

"You're a dear, thanks!" the elderly woman smiles, and retreats towards the back of the stage.

The Wanderer nudges your foot with his own, and says your name. It tumbles from his lips easily, naturally. He quite enjoys the way it sounds, he thinks.

You chuckle. "Guess I've been exposed."

"Like you could've kept it hidden."

"I could have!"

"With how much you talk? I doubt it."

"I guess that's true; it can't be helped," you sigh dramatically. "I do like talking to you."

"To me, or just in general?"

"In general too." you flash a wicked grin. "But mostly, you're just fun to be around."

That's.. certainly new. To be fair, you had incredibly odd taste in company.

You both reach the stage, and set down the bundles in your arms on a nearby table. Rekhar beams her thanks, and sweeps the fabric off to who knows where.

"I hear she's working on a new prop mechanic for the next show." you comment.

"You're not helping? I thought you were a craftsman."

"Me?" you laugh. "Oh, I'm not as well versed in prop engineering. My specialty lies more in puppetry."

His chest drops to a jolt, and he feels his throat run dry. "Puppets."

"Yeah!" You don't seem to notice the change in his tone. "I could show them to you, sometime."

"No thanks." he backs away abruptly, movement stiff. You look worried for him. He looks away from you.

"Are you okay?"

"I got something else to do," he says. You both knew it was a lie. "And you don't need my help anymore."

You don't need a puppet like me.

You reach out to him. He flinches away.

"..okay." you clasp your hands together, hold them close to your chest. "I'll see you around."

He leaves you standing alone without an answer.

me: haha yeah this is gonna be fluff/humour yk

also me:

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qmintea · 7 months

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lovesick puppet's antithesis is crossposted on ao3 now! :D

yippeee

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qmintea · 7 months

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𝐀 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐬𝐢𝐜𝐤 𝐏𝐮𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐭'𝐬 𝐀𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐬𝐢𝐬 : 𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐮𝐞

wanderer x gn! reader ; no use of y/n ; 5+1 things format ; mostly fluff and humour

brief cw for a scene where reader and wanderer beat up a drunk man :) also, it's implied that wanderer once had a past baby crush on niwa :]

It started with aggravated assault. You know, as most love stories do. In the Wanderer's defence, he didn't instigate it on purpose, for once. Not that Buer would accept the excuse should he tell her such, but it's about the principle of the thing, after all.

It was a regular day in Sumeru, bustling with merchants and travellers alike. Buer had sent him to fetch her Candied Ajilenakh Nuts from the Puspa Cafe. Well, in truth she had just mentioned in passing that she was running low on her favourite snack, but it's practically the same thing, if you asked the Wanderer. He would have ended up making the trip either way. So really, it was a perfectly reasonable excuse if he was acting just a bit more irritable that day, thank you very much.

The room smelled of charcoal and a warm sugary scent, assaulting his nose the moment he stepped foot inside the cafe. He never was a fan of sweets. His footsteps fell soft against the carpet floors, the sound drowned out by the gushing water fountain and the chatter of customers. The message board was chock full of nonsensical scribbles and adverts as per usual, papers fluttering gently, held in place by their push pins.

As he stands in line to wait for his turn, he vaguely notes down the other patrons; most he did not recognise, but some did frequent the establishment enough for him to know them by name. There was Nayab, the laidback matra with an odd fixation on card game strategies. Iris, the sharp scholar who seemed intent on studying all things King Deshret. Izem, the weathered old man who took his coffee bitter, who was awkward in the prospect of a peaceful life. Of course, he only knew as much about these strangers thanks to the chatty nature of Sumeru locals, and his numerous errand runs involving Buer's sweet tooth.

When he finally reaches the counter, an unfamiliar face greets him instead of the acting manager. Come to think of it, he can't seem to spot Gata either. The new cashier, you, beamed politely at him.

"Good morning, what can I get for you?"

"Candied Ajilenakh Nuts." He drops a hefty pouch of mora on the register.

You carefully tilt open the bag, counting the amount he'd given, and your eyes go wide at the sight. "That much?"

He nods. A spark of recognition flashes in your expression.

"Ah!" you snap your fingers, "Enteka mentioned you might pop up. Candied Ajilenakh Nuts, coming right up!"

Just what has the acting manager been telling her employees? Well, it wasn't his business to know, and you seemed decently competent at your job. So long as he got the stupid nuts.

He was watching you work while he waited, when the doors of the cafe burst open.

"Eyyya..enteka!" A man stumbles in, face flushed in a sickly hue. His words slurred together into an incomprehensible mess. Great, a fucking drunkard.

He hears you mutter quietly under your breath. "Fucking drunkard."

Huh. Good to know someone shared the sentiment.

"Entekaaaarghfh.. whereryou.." The man wobbles up to the register. The other customers pinched their nose as he passed by; he reeked of cheap alcohol and dry vomit.

The Wanderer watched the drunk man wag a finger accusingly in your face.

"Yergh.. You're not Een..theyka!"

"Unfortunate for you, no. You must be the nuisance from last night." you smile tightly. The Wanderer sees murder in your eyes. The drunk man, however, remained oblivious as ever.

"Where.. where's she..?" the man swayed back and forth, craning his neck as if looking for the woman.

"That's none of your business." you stare him down. "I'm afraid I must ask you to leave, sir."

And of course, because demanding drunk bastards are rarely ever cooperative by nature, the man slams a fist rather pathetically and starts to yell. Nonsense about being lied to, about being led on and calling Enteka all manners of names that weren't appropriate for a family friendly cafe.

The Wanderer briefly considers intervening, but then you were all but leaping over the counter like a rabid dog, punting the man backwards with a heavy thwack. He, and everyone else in the cafe, stands frozen momentarily, bewildered by your sudden 180 from picture perfect employee to.. this.

"What the fuck?!" the man speaks clearer, sobered from the unexpected blow.

"That's for harassing my friend."

"I'll – hic – I'll fucken' report you!"

"Go for it then, coward." you scoff, and point towards the door. "Go on, leave. Make your report."

The man shuffles his feet, indignant, and you turn your back to return behind the register, but then the asshole goes for a foul ambush, and the Wanderer watches you turning a split second too late, and–

He yanks the man back by his neck, hand closed tight. Anemo energy rushes to his fingertips in warning. The drunkard writhes in his grasp.

"Some of us have important things to be doing." he hisses, and lets the man drop to the floor. "Stop. You're an embarrassment to yourself."

You have your mouth agape, eyes blown wide from the attempted attack, but you snap out of it quick. As the man struggles to stand properly, you're already fisting the collar of his shirt, dragging him to the exit yourself.

The man bellows in a last ditch attempt at retaliation. "Is this how you treat your patrons?!"

"Oh, I don't actually work here!" you reply cheerily, glaring daggers at the manchild. "In no way do my actions reflect on the service quality of Puspa Cafe™!"

What.

"What??"

"Bye now, you're banned by the way!" you chuck the man out onto the streets. An eremite from the corps of thirty seemed to appear from thin air, striding over to apprehend the man. You call out to the mercenary. "Thanks Rima!"

She nods back. "Nothing escapes my eyes."

You grin and shut the doors, turning to face the people in the room. "Sorry for the disturbance everyone, as you were!"

The customers relaxed, simmering back into their hushed chatter and quiet laughs. Whether they were grateful for your intervention or simply paralysed with bafflement, the Wanderer wasn't quite sure himself. You head back towards the counter, but pause in front of him.

"Thanks. For earlier." You dig the heel of your shoe into the carpet, somewhat sheepish. He catches the glint of a vision hanging delicately against your waist. He wonders briefly why you didn't use it earlier.

He huffs, looking away. "I just wanted the damn snack."

"Oh, right!" you gasp softly, snapping your fingers. "Oh archons I'm so sorry I'll get them right away."

True to your word, he has a large paper bag stuffed full of Candied Ajilenakh Nuts shoved into his hands within seconds. It smelled disgustingly sweet, just how Buer liked it.

"Thought you didn't work here." he comments.

"That's true, I don't!" you smile, and refuse to elaborate further. Not that he needed much explanation, he's guessed most of the story from your altercation with that drunkard. He supposes the acting manager would return to her work soon now.

He leaves, and thinks that would be the last he'd ever see of you. And if Buer commented on his distant expression when he returned, then he's liable to the right to remain silent.

He's proven wrong that same evening, when he finds you lingering in front of the Sanctuary of Surasthana.

"You." he deadpans, because he can't quite think of anything else to say.

"Me." you beam, much more genuinely than the first time you smiled at him. You're carrying a large container in your hands. "Good to know I'm not forgettable after all."

"Hard to be with the stunt you pulled." he shakes his head. "What do you want?"

"Yeesh, Enteka wasn't kidding, you're a real grump. Here." you gesture to the box you were holding. "Figured I owed a proper thank you."

He looks at the thing warily. "You're not trying to poison Lesser Lord Kusanali through me, are you?"

You laugh. "Oh yeah. Totally, I'm attempting to harm an archon and her aide via homemade Havalmadz."

He raises a brow. "Considering it's Lesser Lord Kusanali's favourite dish, it's plausible, you know. That's just more suspicious, idiot."

"Wait, really?" you squawk, looking genuinely flustered. "I assumed.. shit, I thought the Haval addict here was you."

You started to ramble your apologies. As amusing as it was, he wasn't that much of a sadist as people would believe. He sighs and takes the gift from your hands.

"Wait–wait, you actually want that?"

"Yeah, sure, whatever." Buer would certainly want it. He didn't indulge in eating as much, but you didn't need to know that. "...thanks too, I guess."

You blink once, twice, and your lips spit into a blinding grin, eyes crinkled in joy. The Wanderer feels his grip falter momentarily at the sight.

"See you around then!"

You leave, and he's left with ringing ears and a flutter in his chest and oh fuck no he was not going to go through this again. He blasts himself in the face with anemo, leaving his hair swept back and his hat skewered wrong. Snap out of it.

He wasn't dumb. He's felt this ridiculous emotion before, back when Niwa would hold their hands together in unfamiliar places, back when Niwa taught him in his gentle voice, back when..

Back when Niwa was alive.

He didn't know what it meant, back then. The feeling. Not that it made any difference, he was over it now, and all he can do is make peace with his loss. The loss of a companion dear to him, one of many.

Such was his curse, to lose the things he loved infinitely, watching them succumb to their mortality over and over through time. Such was his burden as an immortal puppet.

He clutches the Havalmadz in his arms. He's got Buer now, he supposes. A wise and intelligent conversational partner, an archon whom he was proud to assist, frivolous errands aside. He had his papers, his accidental academic career in the Vahumana Darshan. He had his awkward somewhat acquaintanceships with those people from the Interdarshan Championship, crazy event that it was.

Realistically, it was enough to fulfill him. He had no need for unexpected variables. He had plenty of things for himself now, plenty of theses to write.

In fact, he thinks as he retreats into the sanctuary, he'll write a thesis on exactly why he shouldn't involve himself any further with you, comprising the points he'd spontaneously thought of and will continue to think of. An antithesis, if you will (Archons, he should stop hanging around that Mahamatra). He'd like to think he was a man of reason, after everything he's been through.

Buer greets him from the centre of the room, her favourite spot to ponder.

"Hello, Hat Guy. You look like you had fun." She smiles serenely, though her eyes sparkle with delight.

He's stopped trying to get Buer to call him anything else at this point. He ignores the comment, and instead holds out the Havalmadz.

"Someone sent this for you." he says simply, but he knew Buer could read between the lines. He's heard that parents often have an instinct for that–not that he sees her as a parent or anything. She thanks him happily, and doesn't point anything out, to his relief.

He'll surely get over his fascination with you soon.

to be cross posted on ao3! later bc its like 1 am rn and im tjred. i'll probably need to edit this later. this got too long to be a oneshot, but it's much shorter than what i have planned for the android scara fic. just a little something to get me out of writer's block, bc i love describing fantasy settings hehe. still working out how to make aesthetic tumblr fic posts,, enjoy!

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