#furby!

[localplaguenurse]

From what I heard, mystery man is voiced by Pantalone’s Va so I’m pretty sure it’s him

BROTHER when J Michael Tatum starts talking I sit my ass down and LISTEN

Also I love that he's trying to be mysterious by wearing that cloak, only to pick something you'd only find in Pantalone's closet, be so fr bro we know it's you

[somethin-needs-to-go-here]

Trick or treat

Due to the fact u made a post with THE WORST grammer ever I'm giving you squished almond joys.

Suffer.

[webfurby]

g

yes...... Good Baby Eat Your Vegetales. Good

[localplaguenurse]

Pantalone in private be like:

LITERALLY omg I said it before in some of my old Pantalone headcanons but I imagine part of it is he's genuinely really touch starved as a result of his impoverished youth. When he's in public he keeps it on the down low, mostly keeping it to some scandalous hand holding or, god forbid, something as raunchy and debauched as a peck on the cheek!

In private though, he always needs to be touching his partner in some way. Not even in a sexual context, something like sitting next to each other on the couch and having your legs touch is enough, though Pantalone is inherently a greedy man so he will be wanting more. He'll tilt his head, and that's your cue to lean against him, or if he catches you reading his book, he'll pull you onto his lap so you can read along easier.

I think it's something he's aware of but tries to downplay in order to maintain this intimidating reputation he's built for himself. There are a few things he'd be willing to admit to, like how he just sleeps better when you're right there next to him, or that his favourite part of coming home after a trip is how warm your hugs are. No one bats an eye at that. They don't need to know that he will literally crawl on top of you when you're in bed so he can rest his head on your chest, or that sometimes he prefers to be the little spoon when you're sleeping, or that playing with his hair will have him in the palm of your hand.

[localplaguenurse]

FOAMING AT THE GOD DAMN MOUTH (genuinely the amount of flirting between those two was insane, the sexual tension was palpable)

Fellas what’s gayer? Being gay or whatever the hell those two have going on?

They make me SIIIIIIIIICK.

[localplaguenurse]

writing requests? Ok hear me out

(this is inspired heavily by my own oc)

Pantalone meeting the parents™️ but y/n’s parent he is meeting is neuvillette, and Pantalone had no idea until the day of. (how that information got past him is beyond any of us) second parent can be a normal person or nobody at all, dealers choice (you said no ships so I won’t say anything)

Hi Pandora

I mainly said no ships because I honestly just don't do much shipping in general. I just make up guys and smack them into canon characters like barbies. It's mainly Haikaveh and Dottolone here. ANYWAYS

Connecting the Dots

Notes: Pantalone is a touch ooc from how I would usually write him, but that's mostly for the humour of it (and this is one of the few times I've had to think about what his dynamic with Neuvillette would be lmao). SFW, kind of fluffy, and a bit of secondhand embarrassment.

The bell of the elevator being called dings in the lobby, heard only by the woman sitting at the front desk and the Regrator standing in front of said elevator. Stepping back, he readjusts his hold on the bouquet of rainbow roses in one hand and the gift bag in his other. Both things he must be careful with if he is to make a good first impression, though for a man like him, he can afford to make any impression he likes.

There’s another ding as the elevator door opens, and he steps inside. He turns to watch the door close, a smile on his lips that for once is a little more sincere than merely polite. It’s a smile that is quickly wiped away with surprise as something jams in between the doors just as they’re about to close. They clank around it, then they slowly pull open again. Between the doors was a cane, being held by a gloved hand. The cane alone gives away who it is before Pantalone can see him.

Pantalone looks up, locking his gemstone eyes with the pearly purple eyes of Fontaine’s beloved Iudex, and the slit pupils briefly narrow when he recognizes the Harbinger in the elevator.

“My apologies, Regrator,” he says with little inflection.

Pantalone’s smile loses the sentimentality, but remains courteous as he steps aside to let Neuvillette into the elevator. “Ah, it’s quite alright, Monsieur Neuvillette.”

Neuvillette’s coat sways as he turns to face the door. With his free hand, he presses a button on the elevator’s panel. Pantalone opens his mouth to ask the man to hit one of the buttons for him, but sees the floor Neuvillette has selected is the exact floor he needs to go to.

“Oh, what a coincidence!” Pantalone remarks as the doors close. “It appears we both have business on the tenth floor.”

“Is that so?” Neuvillette asks, looking straight ahead.

Pantalone nods, and the elevator begins moving. “If you don’t mind me asking, what brings you here, Monsieur?”

Neuvillette glances at the Regrator out of the corner of his eye, then returns to staring straight ahead. “I am visiting someone.”

The vagueness of the statement intrigues Pantalone. Very well, he can be vague too. “As am I,” he replies.

Neuvillette turns his head and stares at the flowers and the gift bag. “I had presumed as much from the flowers. I presume this is no client meeting.”

“Would it be a crime if it was?” Pantalone jests.

“While it is not necessarily a criminal act resulting in jail time, it would violate the laws under section–”

“I’m joking,” Pantalone interrupts, “I’m meeting with someone I’ve grown quite attached to.”

At this, Neuvillette politely smiles. “That sounds lovely, Regrator.”

“In truth, I’m actually a tad early,” Pantalone says. “We’re expecting additional company, so I figured my dearest wouldn’t mind if I came to assist in setting up, and perhaps have a quiet moment or two together.”

“In that case, I hope all goes well for you two.”

“What of you, Neuvillette? Who are you visiting?”

“... I am visiting someone I also find near and dear to my heart,” he answers.

Pantalone raises an eyebrow. “Oh? The impartial, distant Neuvillette has taken a lover?”

“No, no, nothing like that,” he almost stammers, put off by the mere idea. “I’m, ah, visiting family.”

Pantalone hums, but does not make his disappointment known. He had hoped it would be something more interesting, scandalous even, but no. He’s simply visiting one of the many melusines who consider him their father. Perhaps another time he’ll discover something truly interesting about the Chief Justice.

The elevator dings, and when the door opens, Neuvillette turns to address Pantalone. “I hope you and your love have a lovely day.”

Pantalone nods. “I hope all goes well with you and your family.”

Neuvillette gets out before Pantalone, his cane thumping in rhythm with his footsteps down the hall. Pantalone trails not too far behind Neuvillette, the gift bag in his hand gently swaying as he walks. It’s beginning to feel a little heavy, as he’s been carrying it for a good part of the afternoon now.

Neuvillette stops walking, which prompts Pantalone to stop as well. He’s stopped in front of a door, specifically the door Pantalone was looking for. When Neuvillette gently knocks on it, Pantalone raises a brow.

“Pardon me,” he says, “but I think you might have the wrong apartment.”

Neuvillette gives Pantalone an odd look. “What do you mean?”

Pantalone points to the number on the door. “This is the apartment I’m supposed to be visiting.”

“That… That can’t be right,” Neuvillette replies, brow furrowed, “could it be that you have the wrong apartment?”

“That’s not possible,” the Regrator replies. “I’ve visited this apartment on many occasions, I would know. Besides, you said you were visiting family, no? There aren’t any melusines here?”

“What do the melusines have to do with–”

The door finally opens, and the two men immediately snap their heads in its direction. The figure on the other side of the door is not a melusine, not even close. It’s you, the Regrator’s sweet little darling, and he feels his heart swell with love for you and smug pride at being right; Neuvillette does have the wrong door.

Yet, Neuvillette does not act like he’s wrong. He does not grow flustered and stammer out an apology, he does not leave promptly, he doesn’t even try to walk away. Instead, he smiles warmly, and opens his arms up. To Pantalone’s shock, you grin and throw yourself in Neuvillette’s arms gleefully.

You look up at Neuvillette.

“Salut, Papa!”

Pantalone feels like he just got shot.

Papa? PAPA?

“Good afternoon, my sweet,” Neuvillette greets back. He then turns to the Regrator, seeing his shocked face. “See?”

Pantalone feels nauseous, though he doesn’t know what thought sickens him more; that Neuvillette, Neuvillette of all people, is your honest to god father, or that you’ve been two timing with the Regrator and Iudex and papa is some deranged title you’ve given Neuvillette. He genuinely doesn’t know which reality would be easier to accept.

You blink, and look over at Pantalone as well. Your face flushes, and you pull away from Neuvillette. “Oh! You’re here earlier than I thought.”

He clears his throat, trying to regain composure. “I was going to offer you help in getting lunch ready,” he replies.

Neuvillette calls you by your name, and the sound makes Pantalone feel worse. You turn your attention back to Neuvillette when he does. The man clears his throat, then speaks.

“When you had said that we would be having special company,” he says, “I was not aware you meant the Regrator.”

You nervously laugh. “N-No, I didn’t, but I didn’t think we’d all be meeting up like this, ah…”

You step past Neuvillette and approach Pantalone. Seeing his hands are full, you hook your arm around his, finding he’s oddly stiff. Neuvillette blinks, and you awkwardly smile. “Darling,” you say to Pantalone, then gesture to Neuvillette, “this is my father.” You turn to Neuvillette and gesture to Pantalone. “Father, this is–”

“I know who the Regrator is,” Neuvillette says.

You laugh, and it’s obviously a little forced. “Good! Then we can skip over m-most of the formalities.”

The three of you enter the apartment, with Pantalone needing to be prompted but not fully dragged inside. Without saying anything, he hands you the bouquet of rainbow roses, and you smile sweetly at him. While you run off to find a sufficient vase, Pantalone then turns to the hydro sovereign staring him down.

He glances inside the gift bag, then offers it to Neuvillette, polite smile stretched across his lips. “I suppose this is for you, then. I was told you would appreciate it, and now I understand why.”

Neuvillette silently scrutinizes the gift bag before he takes it. He reaches inside, and pulls out a clear, ornate glass bottle.

“Imported from Sumeru,” Pantalone adds.

“Thank you.”

Before an uncomfortable silence can settle, you reappear with the roses, now in a vase. You set them up by your window, and gesture for the two men to actually properly enter your abode.

“Lunch will be ready in a bit,” you say, “both of you are a little earlier than I expected you to be.”

Pantalone clears his throat, and feels Neuvillette’s stare boring holes through him. “Darling, could I talk to you for a moment? Preferably in private.”

“Oh? What for?” Neuvillette asks.

“Father, please.” You spy the bottle in his hand, and point at it. “Why don’t you put that in the fridge, and help yourself to some of the water I have? It’s from Mondstadt, I think it’ll be perfect for a day like this.”

“Hm, good idea,” Neuvillette says, “Sumeru’s water is a complex flavour on its own, but drinking it when it is cold adds another layer to its taste that truly exemplifies how refreshing it is, especially in such a harsh climate.”

While your father lets himself get distracted by the hydrating delicacies of imported water, you and Pantalone slip away to your room. He shuts the door behind him, and immediately the calm, suave mask drops. He points to the door, staring at you with wide eyes. “That is your father? Your father is the Iudex of Fontaine?”

You nod. “I imagined this reveal going differently, a-and I know you have questions–”

“But you don’t go by Neuvillette!” Pantalone says. “You go by a completely different name! Did you change your name from Neuvillette, or is he just your adopted father and that’s your biological family’s name?”

“He’s my biological father,” you explain, “and I, ah, I have two surnames, actually. I-I use my mother’s maiden name in social settings, but on all my legal documents, I have her and my father’s names. Here…”

You approach your bookshelf and pull a book from the bottom shelf. You open it, and when Pantalone peers over your shoulder, he sees two pages before him. On the right page are photographs of not just a tiny version of you, but Neuvillette as well, and he hasn’t aged a day save for growing his hair out. On the left page is a dedication, and sure enough, there is your first name, what he thought was your only surname, and attached to that with a little dash is the name Neuvillette.

You shut the book and tuck it under your arm. “My father suggested I start going by my mother’s maiden name,” you say, “both to honour her memory, and because he thought me going by Neuvillette could put a target on my back, considering his line of work.”

Pantalone chuckles grimly. “That explains why you weren’t all that concerned when I warned you of the consequences of being my most beloved. Still, I just can’t believe that the Neuvillette had a child of his own, let alone that child being you. I know you said you take more after your mother, but I can hardly see the resemblance.”

You touch your ear. “We both have pointed ears.”

“And so does Pulcinella,” Pantalone remarks, “darling, be serious.”

“I also drink a lot of water,” you tell him, “and I’m very particular about how it tastes.”

“While I am starting to connect the dots now,” Pantalone says, “having pointy ears and preferring imported Mondstadt mineral water over filtered Fontaine tap water doesn’t immediately scream spawn of the hydro sovereign, which… be honest, darling, what were your expectations for how this lunch would go?”

“That you two would start ranting about Archons and become best friends,” you answer, “especially regarding Rex Lapis.”

“Ah, common enemies. That’s historically a very good base for friendship.”

You peck his cheek. “It’ll be fine, now come on before my father wonders what’s taking us so long.”

With the album still tucked under your arm, you leave the room and Pantalone standing inside. He blinks, digesting everything you’ve just told him. He was expecting a rich father. He was expecting a politician. He expected someone with some amount of power. He’s not sure of Neuvillette’s exact amount of wealth, just that it’s the one thing Pantalone has over him while Neuvillette excels in everything else. Does this also make the melusines your sisters? And what of Lady Furina? Did this mean an Archon was, what, your aunt?

He takes a deep breath, makes a mental note to double check that his last will and testament is up to date when lunch is over, and puts on the polite, smiling mask before he leaves the room.

[localplaguenurse]

Pantalone and Nikolai go on a trip to liyue and niki gets lost and while trying to find where pants went ends up finding baizhu instead, and niki in all his blindness, sees the signature pantalone closed eyed smile, walks up to him like

“oh my gods, don’t walk off like that, you know I’m legally bli-“

he realizes that this is not Pantalone

Pantalone does not have green hair or a snake

He just approached a total stranger thinking it was his…well whatever they are at this point

It’s like a kid grabbing a strangers hand at the grocery store thinking it’s their mom

Just a quick thing, don’t take this as canon (or do, you decide), for the sake of simplicity on my end their relationship is a little more “established.” This is more in line with what I was ORIGINALLY trying to write (where Niki and Pantalone were already married and in Liyue)

You were at least partially at fault for the situation at hand, you have to admit. Pantalone had warned you that tonight would be busy, but you insisted on going out to the night market. It was going to be your first time going, after all, and if you think about it, this would have been your first definitive date with the man. You’re fairly certain the other times he had invited you for tea or joined you at dinner were dates too, but this is the first time either of you have acknowledged a little get together as a date. It was supposed to be fun.

While going out was your idea, Pantalone disappearing was not. You were admiring some rather nice floral perfumes, and when you had turned your head to ask for Pantalone’s input, he was gone. You must have looked ridiculous spinning around in one spot trying to find him, but not as ridiculous as it felt to have your date disappear. You weren’t concerned for his safety, he’d be fine, but you were more annoyed and anxious because, and it seems Pantalone must have somehow forgotten, you are literally going blind.

It was already hard not bumping into people as you walked through the crowds. That only got worse as you, admittedly, panicked a little and tried to make your way through without guidance. You muttered apologies in between yells of Pantalone’s name as you tripped and stumbled through the market.

You pushed (or maybe were pushed) out of the crowd, still spinning your head on an axis trying to find your harbinger. You realized quickly this part of the market was closed, some of the vendors having gone home for the night, so there is not as much lighting here. Great, because making your eyesight worse was exactly what you needed.

You sighed, leaning against an empty stall. With any luck, Pantalone would have noticed your absence and come looking for you, so staying put is best.

You were snapped out of your thoughts when you heard approaching footsteps. You looked up in time to see a figure passing you by, the gentle jingle of the chain of his glasses catching your ear. Night blindness is a bastard, but you recognized the just barely illuminated silhouette by the way his hair was tied back, and the way he smiled when he noticed you were looking at him.

“By the Tsaritsa, there you are!”

You grasped the man’s hand and he immediately froze.

“Where did you go? Did you forget I’m—”

Your mind came screeching to a halt when you finally get a good look at the man. Up close, you could see he didn’t have a chain on his glasses, but a little dangly charm of sorts, and that his hair was actually green, a trick of the lighting making it look a lot darker. There was a pale scarf draped around his neck, which you quickly realized was a snake when it lifted its head up to look at you.

Immediately you ripped your hand away like you had grabbed a handful of hot coals. Your face felt just as warm as the embarrassment took over. The man just stared at you, but you could see his lips curling into an amused smile.

“A-Archons, I am so sorry,” you stammered out, “I-I, you, um, I thought you were m-my date. He looks kind of like you a-and I thought you were him.”

The stranger laughed heartily. “Oh, don’t worry! I understand. Besides, I needed a little laugh after the strenuous day I’ve had.” He stopped talking for a moment, turning his head away to let out a few rough coughs. He cleared his throat, then turned back to you smiling like you didn’t hear him almost cough out one of his lungs. “Say, I don’t think I’ve seen you around the harbour before. Who might you be?”

You cleared your throat as well out of nervous habit rather than illness. “Nikolai Kuznetsov, I just moved here f-from Snezhnaya. And you?”

“Dr. Baizhu,” the man replied. “A pleasure to wet you, Mr. Kuznetsov.”

“Oh, wait, I’ve heard of you,” you told him, “I think I might have been referred to you specifically for my treatments, but mine are… I wouldn’t say specialized, but it’s not exactly like chronic illness.”

“Oh?”

You opened your mouth to explain, only to hear a more familiar set of footsteps approaching you. You turned, seeing the distinct figure of your date. When he recognized you, he picked up his pace a little and joined you at your side.

“So this is where you were hiding from me,” he tried to tease, but you could hear the slightest bit of worry in his tone. “What were you thinking, wandering off like that?”

“I was thinking did my date wander off and forget I’m legally blind?”

At this, Pantalone chuckled. “Alright, that’s fair.”

“So this is your date, hm?” Baizhu asked.

“Ah, hello doctor,” Pantalone replied. “How is Miss Qiqi these days? I hope she’s enjoying the coconut milk supply Tartaglia arranged.”

“She’s never been happier, thank you for asking.” He turned to you, still smiling. Even his smile looks kind of similar to Pantalone’s. “Now, I believe you said something just now about being legally blind?”

You nodded. “Yes, I have retinitis pigmentosa.”

Baizhu nodded. “I can see how you mistook me for the Regrator, then. How far along has it progressed, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“I have no peripheral vision, and I’ll likely lose my central vision by the time I’m forty,” you answered. “I believe I have an appointment with you next week to discuss treatment to hopefully delay it a little longer.”

“Perfect. I’ll see you then.” He turned to Pantalone, still smiling. “I suppose I’ll let you go now. You two have fun~”

You felt a gloved hand wrap around your hand, fingers locking with yours as Baizhu walked off. Pantalone lifted your hand up, kissing the back of it with that familiar teasing smirk on his lips. “You really thought that Dr. Baizhu was me, darling?”

“I did,” you replied. “Honestly, it’s surprising how similar you two look.”

Pantalone hummed in mock contemplation. “… I don’t see the resemblance.”

“I don’t see.”

“Ha ha, very funny.”

You turned and kissed his cheek. “Thank you, I try.”