This is basically a random blog with random fandoms at random times. For the most part, I'll try to stay consistent with my fandoms, but no guarantees! Current active fandoms (changes often!): Genshin Impact
“i never see you at the club” ok well i never see you on ao3 at 2am reading about the same two bitches falling in love for the 1000th time in the 500th way
And notice the potato doesn’t guilt you with “if you don’t, something horrible will happen.” Potato wouldn’t betray you like that, because potato is a refined person of good humor and character, and understands that, sometimes, a visit to your dashboard just isn’t convenient right now. Sometimes you just went on a fandom gif reblogging spree or your energy is low, you do not have the time to make your dashboard suitable to guests, and a polite visit just isn’t in the cards. Potato understands this, and doesn’t get upset, or gods forbid, throws a tantrum and wishes ill on your household. Instead, Potato merely stores away their blessings for a later visit and leaves as a good friend should.
Why, of all places, had he brought you here? Where greed and power kept a choke hold not unlike that of a predatory upon the weakest point of its prey?
Pantalone & Gender Neutral Reader; not necessarily a pairing, although it could be interpreted as such. Darker topics hinted at throughout. Author's note at bottom.
If not for the promise of overtime, you wouldn’t be here. Certainly not in a place like this, at any rate.
When Pantalone said he needed your assistance with a task during your stay in Fontaine, you imagined it was more of the same things: balancing books, double-checking receipts against their accompanying forms, obtaining permits, arranging his schedule, booking dinner appointments. The usual. The predictable.
Not…accompanying him down a dark, winding pathway in-between the city’s high buildings. Or into a basement after the flash of a card and a codeword spoken with the same comfortable cadence as he explained financial theory to his business associates. Your mask hid your furled brow and you swallowed the urge to grimace as you descended after the Harbinger. The stairs were narrow, cramped, the pyro sconces in disrepair; if not for Regrator’s glowing Delusion and your own at your hip, you would have tumbled right into him.
He hadn’t even given you a chance to go in front of him. His arrogance would kill him one day, you were certain of it.
And now, here you stood, in what was meant to pass as one of the best seats in the house. It was too dark to see much of anything, to make out the faces of others present. The faintest glow of lights came from the single stairwell down the center of the seating area and along the seats. A source of actual light was above a small stage, hidden by thick curtains, probably just enough space for a single performer.
The smell of tobacco and other herbs tickled your nose, wafting from nearby (you could just make out the slight glow of the cigarette as its user inhaled). Pantalone made a quiet sound of disapproval, muttering about the kinds of people they let in here nowadays.
A waiter came, took the Harbinger’s order, and left in what felt like the blink of an eye. He returned with a steaming cup of tea; from the familiar smell, you could only figure it was Da Hong Pao, his favorite. Pantalone drank it only on special occasions but you were more than certain that he could afford to have it daily if he so chose.
The Harbinger let out a long sigh.
“It usually doesn’t take this long,” he mumbled, more to himself than to you.
The velvet curtains rolled back not a moment later.
A dancer, their face hidden and dressed in just enough fabric to cover their modesty, began to move to music you couldn’t quite place. It had more rhythm than melody and seemed to mimic the beat of a heart. The dance was just as odd, full of motions that were intense, terrifying, and yet you couldn’t bring yourself to look away.
What was this place?
Why had the Harbinger come here?
Applause mingled with the music as the dancer’s moment came to an end. Pantalone motioned to a nearby waiter and said something you didn’t catch. He was back a moment later and handed a piece of paper to the Harbinger with both hands, almost reverent.
You steeled your expression beneath your mask, hyper-aware that your employer was close enough to be able to see a shift in the corners of your mouth or hear a reactionary breath. Had he just…
As others came onto the stage, one by one, the accompanying music changed to match. By the third performer, all Pantalone needed to do was wave a hand and the staff member disappeared; when they returned, you caught the edge of a familiar and dangerous tone.
“Whatever they offer, I can beat it. See to it that I get the final bid every time. Mora is no object.”
Bid? He was bidding on these people?
You did your best to still your hands, trembling in fury. It was bad enough that establishments like this existed, that there was an entire market for people and poor excuses of humans that not only allowed it but encouraged it. And your boss, a Fatui Harbinger, was among them?
He was always a reasonable commanding officer, fair. Everyone in his department was paid exactly what they were owed, sometimes more, and he was never one to dock pay or take away benefits or deny someone time off if they needed it. He gave more grief to his fellow Harbingers and those that tried to fleece him than he did those serving in his division. He took advantage of the markets but never the people.
Everyone was always recruited willingly or at least…so you always thought.
Or was that all a ruse?
And why bring you with him?
You swallowed, urging your stomach to retain what little contents it still had, and to focus. Your opinion didn’t matter. And your Delusion was already glowing, primed and ready, as if sensing your hatred. You brushed your coat and covered the gem.
Pantalone adjusted his own in turn, the Geo Delusion bright and vibrant. The shadows cast across his face made him appear, for a moment, as if he was carved of the finest stone as his expression hardened.
“Let them see,” he said. “I want them to know who they’re up against.”
After a second, you obeyed, displaying your Delusion again. You would follow orders. That didn’t mean you had to like them.
There were only a handful of performers left after that. When it all came to a close, the proprietor was pleased, practically bouncing on his heels. You wanted nothing more than to unleash your element and pent-up rage. At the very least, you longed to slap that smile off of his face, smarmy and vile.
If the Harbinger noticed your blazing fury, he chose to ignore it. There was no way he didn’t notice, couldn’t feel the waves of indignation rolling off of you.
The staff member returned with an envelope, filled with what you could only assume were proof of the transactions, as you saw earlier. They bowed so low you thought they might snap their back if they went any lower. In fact, you half-expected them to sink to their knees.
“You will find arrangements already in place for transportation. The usual contact.”
The usual contact?
Your head swam as your blood thrummed in your ears. That confirmed it, then. This was hardly a one-time occurrence.
For what purpose, though? To live up to his name of Regrator? Would these performers be sold again, this time for a premium, to line the Fatui coffers and foster good will? Passed off to the Second, thrown into the depths of Haeresys, never to be seen again?
Every fiber in your being demanded that you refuse to follow when the Ninth didn’t even look at you as he stated your departure. But this wasn’t the place to make a scene, you knew, and as revolted as you were, you obeyed. It wasn’t in you to dig your heels in and refuse to yield; that technique was often needed with other Harbingers with little inhibitions, but not…
You didn’t speak a word beyond what was required. You didn’t need to agree. You just needed to do your job.
Initially, you thought the ride from the alleyway would take you both back to the Embassy. But instead, you found yourself at a port, the inky lake glistening with stars; the capital behind you, and before you, the rest of Teyvat.
This certainly wasn’t the way back to Snezhnaya. Upon a high mountain, you could just see the lights of Qiaoying Village; across the lake, the edge of Sumeru.
Before you left the carriage, Pantalone reached into a nearby case, the one bearing the Northland Bank sigil that he used for work outside of the snowy region. Without a word, he handed you a stack of envelopes, their contents heavy and jingling quietly.
Was there…mora in these?
“Wait for my signal,” was all the Harbinger said, hardly the explanation you anticipated.
You held them carefully and exited after him. A handful of fellow Fatui agents and skirmishers were around, much to your surprise. The performers, now dressed, their faces still covered, were being unloaded from the transport caravan with a surprising amount of care. You heard murmurs of caution from the agents helping them down from the back of the wagon, warnings to one another to watch for an injury. The bags over the performers’ heads were removed gently, each of them urged to close their eyes so they weren’t blinded.
Just what was…
Clearly you weren’t the only one baffled by the display. The performers, upon realizing it was the Fatui that were handling them, that purchased them, had one of two reactions: hunched shoulders and averted gazes or defiant expressions and grounded stances.
“I must ask that you hear my words in full, first, before deciding that the Fatui’s reputation precedes it,” Pantalone said, his tone careful but business-like.
He would be kind as long as he was respected, as long as the contract was respected.
The Harbinger gestured with a hand towards you and made a sweeping motion. Right. The envelopes.
“Inside, you will find mora, a list of medical facilities, employers, and housing offices all broken out by region, and new identification to be personalized, which will be taken care of momentarily.”
You held out an envelope to each of the newly-freed performers, returning their bows. When you were finished, you stepped back and off to the side, and Pantalone continued, folding his hands in front of him.
Your mind swam as you did your best to listen to the Harbinger, to focus. Just what was his goal then, if not profit? He could have at least told you what he had been planning.
“It may be hard to believe but there are no strings attached. Your debt has been paid in full, your freedom restored. A new identity protects you and your loved ones and I quite understand the difficulty of leaving your past behind you. You may board a ship of your choosing upon reaching a larger port elsewhere or access a merchant caravan for transportation across land. Regardless of your choice, you will be given one of our agents to escort you. They were specifically trained for these situations and it is a precaution for you more than it is for us.”
The Harbinger’s eyes scanned the faces of those before him and you followed suit. The expressions of the newly-free performers were, at best, skeptical.
“We will not contact you again, if you choose to depart. Your freedom is yours to do with as you please.”
Pantalone nodded to one of the lower-ranked commanding officers and they began providing instructions regarding a queue and a kamera and other details you recalled from getting your own identification cards. A tedious process. Even more so when some level of forgery was involved.
It wasn’t until you were back in the carriage and well on the way back to the Embassy in Fontaine that Pantalone spoke again.
“I apologize for not divulging more information. I needed your genuine reactions as both a cover and an additional threat when the time was right. Judging from the turn of events, both worked quite well.”
After a beat, you asked, “Did you mean it, Lord Harbinger? That their freedom had no strings, no price to pay?”
“Everything comes with a price,” he chuckled quietly. “You know that, or you wouldn’t be here. Your assistance cost me double but it couldn’t have done quite as well without you.”
You bit the inside of your cheek, thankful for the cover of darkness hiding the warmth of your cheeks.
“But to answer your question, yes. They are free to go wherever they like, start anew, or not. They may not dare put their families in danger by seeing them again, on the chance doing so puts them back into circulation, as it were. There is always one that chooses service to the Fatui, compelled by the gesture of goodwill.” Pantalone held open a hand, palm up, and continued. “And the others often follow. Their nation, their people, have failed them.”
It made sense now, you realized. The power of mora and greed, subverted; used to break the wheel rather than keep it spinning.
The Harbinger closed his hand, now clenched into a fist, moonlight glinting off of amethyst gems and polishing platinum.
“But we will not,” he said. “We shall, by whatever means necessary, become the heart that pumps money around the world…”
The closing words came easily to you, the promise of everyone who served the Ninth ingrained in your head as one might have memorized the Heavenly Principles: “And, when the moment comes, that heart shall cease beating by our will alone.”
I like to imagine that Pantalone's backstory includes him not only never getting a Vision but growing up incredibly poor and seeing the way people exploit one another. That he saw the way greed eats at people until there's nothing left but beady eyes and roaming hands to find anything they could, with little inhibitions. And that it disgusts him to the point of amounting wealth not only for the Fatui but in some subverted attempt to break the wheel, so to speak. Just my take and it might be the only one I do but it lived in my brain for far too long.
OKAY BUT CONSIDER PANTALONE WITH A BROKE!Dumbass (affectionate)! S/O
S/O is a broke Sumeru Academia student who is a total dumbass
Maybe writes a thesis on exploding slimes or smth and nearly destroyed an entire school building to test their hypotheses out. Also got held back for a year because their grades are shit.
Because of this S/O has the world's biggest student debt (and collateral damage debt), so they loaned money from the Northland Bank to pay it off
Now, they have a big debt towards the Northland Bank rip and they can't pay it back
Enter Pantalone offering them to do some suspicious mission (maybe as a Fatui bodyguard or smth) in exchange of clearing their debt
So now, they're spending a lot of time with Pantalone as his bodyguard :/
Pantalone realises, day by day, that his new employee is horrifically a menace and very much cheap af
- JUST S/O ESCORTING PANTALONE (because they're hired as a bodyguard) TO A SNOWY PLACE WEARING A T-SHIRT BECAUSE THEY'RE TOO CHEAP TO BUY A COAT
Also S/O biting chunks off uncooked instant noodles and calling that a meal
Extra points if S/O can't pronounce Pantalone's name right:
S/O: "Idk, I think his name is Regretor. Like he makes people regret shit. Well he definitely makes me regret a lot of my life decisions..."
AND FOR SOME REASON PANTALONE FALLS FOR THIS DUMBASS
But our dumbass S/O has full on trust issues (from the Northland Bank debt they acquired) towards Pantalone???
Pantalone trying to flirt: "Here you can have this ring ;)"
Dumbass S/O: "What, so that you can charge me a 15% interest fee for it? No way"
Pantalone feeling distress over S/O's diet of instant noodles: "Let me treat you to a meal :)"
Dumbass S/O: "Whoa hold on their Mr. Rich McPants, you think you can scam me to a 120,000 mora debt? FUCK NO"
The richest man in Snezhnaya is stressed
Extra - extra point if S/O is sus towards Pantalone but not scared of him. In fact S/O does the stupidest shit towards him
S/O climbing to Pantalone's bedroom window and hovering over his sleeping form the night before their suspicious mission, whispering positive affirmations: "Mr. REgRETOR, you WILL make me walk out of my debt scot free. I don't have to go out and do this sus mission :)"
It didn't work. Pantalone wakes up, calls the guards, and adds an extra zero to their debt.
Aizawa’s been through a lot of shit but he’s still-
-comforting others permanently. This guy is literally a comforting mashine but in all honesty, the last two panels happened AFTER he went to Tartarus…. How about *he* gets the comfort he deserves? Just look at this lost and broken man still giving hope to others and being a hero in his own way. I just hope one day he’ll be able to let it all out and get the comfort he needed all of those years.
OHMYGOD. About Sue Headcanons, how did you get these conclusions ?? Just looking in his room ?
YEAH PRETTY MUCH. Like this guy lives in a room in Dorothy's house sewer, you can grasp a lot about his personality there 😂😂
He has tons of books, but where did the books come from? At the same time, Dorothy's house did have a library 👀
Also, those stack of playing cards makes me cackle. It's newly played, but you can't play cards alone...unless you're practicing ways to cheat through shuffling. Which means Sue must've sucked at cards.
Can we talk about how dirty his room is btw? It's MESSY. Horiffically messy. He just dumps stuff at the corner, there's a dead body in the ground, his bed sheet is probably not dusted for years, there's MOSS growing on the walls. Horiffic. This guy sucks at cleaning. If I had been Dorothy, I would forget about escaping and instead clean up this shipwreck of a room before I leave.
And why??? A sewer??? Of all places??? I guess it's efficient for disposing bodies but really Sue?? Did you just like damp areas that much?? He despise sunlight. Definitely despise it. It's either that or he despise physical activity. The most I've seen this guy do is break a window with magic. Other than that, he's pretty much just reading books and playing chess like a NERD.
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