Chapter Text
Rate My Harbinger
★★☆☆☆ • Il Dottore, the Doctor
Second of the Fatui Harbingers
Average Rating: 1.2 | 577 Ratings
23.8% Retention Rate | 4.9 Level of Difficulty
Top Tags for this Harbinger:
Deranged (577)Negligent (432)Dangerous (319)Informative (319)
Similar Harbingers: Sandrone
Posted by Wooden-Brocolli
Made me study the full anatomy of a human body in five hours because, and I quote, "You will be dissecting [redacted] and I expect a report of your findings before 23:00." ????? I learned something new but what the fuck
DISCUSSION:
MOST RELIABLE Thoughtful-Demeanor: Anatomy and dissection is lightwork. Just wait until he makes you drink weird potions and stuff and you explode mid-sleep. Happened to a friend of mine who is no longer with us.
↪ referenced Unlawful-Seawater
Messy-Depression: Knowing basic anatomy is a requirement for serving the Doctor, is it not? If you like things easy and dull, go serve the Damselette or something
Gleaming-Distribution: Easy and dull is better than crazy and crazier. Learn to respect the Lady Harbinger Columbina or shut the fuck up
Obvious-Standstill: Can your Doctor sing? No? Loser.
Long-Depletion: Anything Lady Columbina can do, Lord Dottore can do better
—
Pantalone attempts to get the device to turn on. His subordinate assists him with it, albeit somewhat skittish but no less patient in her explanations without becoming too overbearing.
It does not take long before a soft whirr emanates from the device—no bigger than Pantalone’s palm, at that—and a blue light spills upward, resolving into an impressively stable projection.
His subordinate then proceeds to demonstrate some navigation shortcuts, making use of the three buttons along the device’s surface. One by one, she presses them as Pantalone watches the projection shift, cycling through various interfaces with remarkable ease.
This is heavily inspired by dragon technology, Pantalone recalls Dottore telling him during the device’s developmental stage. A humorously rare collaborative venture between Dottore, Sandrone, and Pulcinella.
Pantalone could be attributed as well, if only by virtue of having provided the mora to see the project through. Fortunately for everyone, he is not so petty as to take credit for something as trivial as that. If he were, he’d likely get tired of seeing his name stamped onto every little thing the Fatui did on the daily.
After the successful launch and subsequent distribution of the device amongst the ranks of the Fatui, Dottore had been anything but humble. Always proud of his work, that dear, arrogant man. Pantalone could hardly fault him for it. The device was, by all accounts, quite the nifty invention
Despite it taking months for Pantalone to finally find the time to experience it for himself, he was pretty impressed with it. Definitely a worthy venture to have invested in. And there were few things in this world capable of impressing a man who’s lived for as long as four centuries.
Pantalone dismisses his subordinate, intent on seeing what else the device has to offer on his own. It takes him an embarrassing amount of time to become relatively proficient with the navigation.
Perhaps arranging a meeting with both Dottore and Sandrone is in order where they could discuss possible improvements. More buttons would be useful, and a slightly larger projection for easier viewing (Pantalone squints as he’s making a mental note of this).
He scrolls through the multitude of active forums available to him. The first three immediately catch his attention: one dedicated to questions asked by new recruits, another for general discussions, and—
“Rate My Harbinger?”
Pantalone uses the middle button to open the forum and see what, precisely, it entails. Suffice to say, he promptly frees up his entire afternoon and evening for it.
—
Rate My Harbinger
★☆☆☆☆ • Pantalone, the Regrator
Ninth of the Fatui Harbingers
Average Rating: 4.1 | 682 Ratings
78.2% Retention Rate | 3.3 Level of Difficulty
Top Tags for this Harbinger:
Attractive (682)Terrifying (676)Inspirational (289)
Similar Harbingers: Pulcinella, Signora
Posted by Impressive-Basin
Cut my bonus.
DISCUSSION:
MOST RELIABLE Deep-Publicist: First time?
Treasured-Overseer: Happens to the best of us, buddy.
Deadpan-Unification: Can't relate. Lord Regrator just tripled my salary. He's generous if you know what you're doing.
Impressive-Basin OP: No one asked about your salary. But I am asking you to kill yourself.
Rate My Harbinger
★★★☆☆ • Sandrone, the Marionette
Seventh of the Fatui Harbingers
Average Rating: 3.3 | 429 Ratings
56% Retention Rate | 4.8 Level of Difficulty
Top Tags for this Harbinger:
Informative (381)Terrifying (290)Inspirational (217)
Similar Harbingers: Dottore
Posted by Livid-Molasses
She was in such a horrible mood today. Why can't the Regrator just give her the mora? Doesn't he have enough to fill up three Zapolyarny Palaces with all that gold?
DISCUSSION:
MOST RELIABLE Distorted-Cabbage: You must be new. It's common knowledge that the Regrator is stingy.
Spurious-Perusal: ? No he's not. As someone who currently serves under the Doctor, I saw his weekly budget and it's enough to fund an entire nation.
Distorted-Cabbage: It's also common knowledge that the probability of the Regrator funding the Doctor's (crazy) experiments is higher than most would initially believe. Speaking as someone who once worked for the both of them. (I'm currently serving the Jester now, fortunately)
—
“What are you so amused by over there?”
Pantalone looks up from the projection to find Dottore leaning against the doorframe, his presence apparently having gone unnoticed until now.
“I didn’t hear you knock,” Pantalone says lightly.
Dottore closes the door and saunters into the room. “That’s because I didn’t.”
Right.
Pantalone says nothing, watching as Dottore makes himself comfortable on the corner of his desk, considerately avoiding the disorder of papers strewn all over.
Dottore’s mask was directed at the projection. Fortunately, Pantalone had the presence of mind to return to the main forums interface. He would sooner be found dead than be caught neglecting his duties in favor of indulging in workplace gossip amongst subordinates. Even more damning is the fact that he’s enjoying himself. The Snezhnayan economy could wait, he supposes.
Though he knew that Dottore would care very little for what he chooses to do with his free time, Pantalone still had an image to maintain, and he’d rather not offer vulnerabilities in Dottore’s presence so freely. That would be a loss on his books.
“How was your day?” Pantalone asks.
Dottore shrugs. “Nothing particularly memorable to share, unfortunately.” He nods at the device on Pantalone’s desk. “I see you’ve finally taken it upon yourself to test that thing. How does it fare?”
“I just acquired this yesterday, so I can hardly offer an extensive assessment. Curiosity simply got the better of me after overhearing a few of my subordinates talking about it—all high praises, of course.”
Pantalone tries to turn off the device, getting it wrong for the first three attempts. Dottore only watches him struggle wordlessly, mercifully not the sort of man to make sport of another’s learning curve.
When he eventually gets it right, the projection finally dissipating, Pantalone sighs heavily. “I must admit, its usefulness is quite apparent. But I implore you to add perhaps a few more buttons should you be inclined to create a newer model.”
Dottore’s lips curl upward, accompanied by a thoughtful hum. “I’ll be sure to keep that in mind.”
With that, Dottore rises from his perch on the desk and strides to the coat rack, where Pantalone’s coat hangs. He retrieves it and returns just as Pantalone finishes gathering his few belongings: his cigarettes and lighter. And now, the Forum Device as well.
Dottore holds the coat open behind him, helping him into it before he offers his arm.
“Shall we?”
—
Rate My Harbinger
★★★★★ • Pulcinella, the Rooster
Fifth of the Fatui Harbingers
Average Rating: 4.4 | 806 Ratings
89.2% Retention Rate | 2.1 Level of Difficulty
Top Tags for this Harbinger:
Professional (523)Considerate (419)Inspirational (378)
Similar Harbingers: Signora, Pantalone
Posted by Unlucky-Broth
Offered me a seat at his table during lunch because everywhere else was full. Made me miss my grandpapa (((
DISCUSSION:
MOST RELIABLE Redundant-Allergy: Good for you! Also, please do not listen to the other comments in the discussion thread. Why do you think the 10.4% didn't last that long?
Smooth-Ranger: Take off his hat and pat him on his little head. I heard he likes that
Allegorical-Rabbit: Comb his mustache. Braid it. Make him sit on your lap.
Strange-Disarmament: You should try carrying him.
Generally-Antique: What the actual flying fuck is wrong with these people. I'm reporting all of you freaks to Lady Sandrone.
Rate My Harbinger
★★★★★ • Columbina, the Damselette
Third of the Fatui Harbingers
Average Rating: 5 | 129 Ratings
100% Retention Rate | 0 Level of Difficulty
Top Tags for this Harbinger:
Negligent (124)Considerate (120)Terrifying (54)
Similar Harbingers: —
Posted by Worrisome-Repentance
Is it just me or is this thing defective? Somehow I can't rate lower than 5 when it comes to rating Lady Columbina. Actual Rating: 3. Does she really not have anything for me to do?
DISCUSSION:
MOST RELIABLE Sleepily-Proud: Not sure about the forums being defective since Lady Sandrone works day and night to maintain it. But yeah, it's been that way since implementation.
Everyone just started to believe that it is Lady Columbina's hidden powers. She has to be Third for some reason, right? And as for things to do, you're pretty much set for a lifetime of boredom.
—
“I have no knowledge of such a thing. And frankly, I’ve lost whatever interest I once had in its underlying maintenance. If you have questions, you’d do better to ask Sandrone,” Dottore explains when Pantalone makes a vague inquiry regarding one of the defects being discussed in the forums.
Pantalone hums. “I see.”
Dottore returns his attention to his research notes as Pantalone resumes his scrolling. He had scarcely slept the previous night, yet the prospect of sleep remains curiously distant; the posts in Rate My Harbinger have proven sufficiently entertaining to keep his attention occupied, all thanks to the sheer absurdity of some posts.
It’s enough for Pantalone to forgo smoking since breakfast. He’s had none when he’d usually be working through his third stick by this time of the day.
That likely answers the question as to why he’s granted the pleasure of having Dottore’s presence in his office. A background one but nonetheless welcome.
Dottore catches him looking. “You seem to be enjoying yourself.”
“Quite.”
—
Rate My Harbinger
★★★★★ • Il Capitano, the Captain
First of the Fatui Harbingers
Average Rating: 4.8 | 1,092 Ratings
96.1% Retention Rate | 4.8 Level of Difficulty
Top Tags for this Harbinger:
Inspirational (987)Considerate (845)Attractive (730)
Similar Harbingers: Arlecchino, Scaramouche, Tartaglia
Posted by Optimistic-Calculation
Hello. Recently lost both of my legs in the last campaign in Natlan (the Abyss is no joke!) and I genuinely thought I was done for. Like, 'relieved of my services' done for. I have eight mouths to feed back at Novokitezhgrad and don't know where I'm going to get the mora to survive.
Thankfully, the Captain was benevolent enough to keep me in the ranks to train new recruits. Even commissioned Sandrone for a wheeled chair to help me in my daily living. Best Harbinger Ever!
DISCUSSION:
MOST RELIABLE Spherical-Dishonesty: Good going for you, comrade! I was also one of the survivors of the Natlan campaign. Unlike you, this is it for me.
Dying in service may be something that's expected of us Fatui. But I wish to see my son become a man, and to also grow old with my wife. The Captain was ever so generous with my pension.
Good luck on the new recruits!
Sordid-Outdoors: This just convinced me to submit my application to serve under the Captain. He's actually the GOAT
Rate My Harbinger
★☆☆☆☆ • Il Dottore, the Doctor
Second of the Fatui Harbingers
Average Rating: 1.1 | 592 Ratings
23.8% Retention Rate | 4.9 Level of Difficulty
Top Tags for this Harbinger:
Deranged (589)Negligent (566)Dangerous (409)
Similar Harbingers: Sandrone
Posted by Sharply-Cheery
Made me fucking clean up the remains of a comrade after she exploded into meat slop because of this serum thing he made. And then he just up and left to fuck off somewhere while everyone dealt with his mess.
Two hours later, he returns and he's LAUGHING HIS ASS OFF and then goes to grab the nearest Fatuus and injects them. Apparently he figured out what was wrong with the initial serum, and here I thought I was about to clean up another round of brain and intestines. Yuck.
Shout out to Mikhail for surviving. Thanks for not making me clean up human fucking goop two times in one day, comrade.
↪ referenced Onerous-Footing
DISCUSSION:
MOST RELIABLE Dearest-Fowl: What the fuck.
Shiny-Advancement: Rest in peace, Lidiya.
↪ referenced Antique-Misconception
Starchy-Misery: THIS IS HOW I FIND OUT MY BUNKMATE IS DEAD???????
Whopping-Syntax: What the fuck.
Bent-Leadership: What the fuck.
Tinnily-Searching: I was there. Human bits got into my hair so I shaved my head bald. Filing my transfer application after this. Serving the Captain is better even if I don't know shit when it comes to combat.
—
“You need more mora?”
“Yes. I’m giving you advance notice. My accountant will submit the request later today, alongside the necessary forms, of course. So do keep an eye out for it.”
Pantalone sighs already feeling a headache coming through. “Didn’t your latest allocation just get released?”
Dottore nods. “It was. Unfortunately, one of the essential components for the physical enhancement serum has proven considerably more difficult to procure than anticipated.” Dottore pauses, as though considering how best to phrase the remainder. “There is also the matter of manpower. The component can only be procured in Sumeru.”
“Remind me again why this serum warrants additional funding on top of an allocation of two billion mora.” The headache has at last arrived in full, and for the sake of the two people in the room, Pantalone lights a cigarette and takes a much needed drag. “And while we’re discussing your expenditures, I heard you had a casualty last week.”
The information had been circulating rather freely on the Rate My Harbinger forum. Pantalone sees no reason to volunteer his source.
Dottore lips twist in displeasure. “I have conducted repeated trials demonstrating that the serum’s enhancements improve an individual’s tolerance for Delusion usage. You, of all people, should be well aware of how fragile a human body can be.”
“I am also well aware of how expansive it becomes when you reach past a human’s breaking point, Dottore.” Pantalone’s smile is pleasant enough, though it fails to reach his eyes. “Bring the proposal again to me next quarter. With conclusive evidence that the serum produces sustainable results, we can discuss this further.”
“That is an unnecessary delay,” Dottore counters. “Providing the funds now would be an investment. The potential returns should more than justify the expenditure.”
Pantalone laughs lightly. It never fails to amuse him when Dottore attempts to entice him into acquiescing by mirroring his language.
“Accounting for potential compensations outweighs the returns if we are to consider your track record,” Pantalone says. “Paying remunerations for the bereaved, the loss of personnel, the cost of replacing them, and whatever administrative complications arise from another avoidable death is far more expensive than you would think.”
Dottore says nothing.
Pantalone continues. “Have you forgotten the last time you conducted tests on your subordinates? The loss of manpower was substantial enough that Pulcinella had to organize a recruitment drive merely to keep the numbers from becoming embarrassing.”
Dottore leaves Pantalone’s office with an audible huff, footsteps heavy and hurried. Pantalone shakes his head.
This dear, stubborn doctor of his.
—
Rate My Harbinger
★★★★★ • La Signora, the Fair Lady
Eighth of the Fatui Harbingers
Average Rating: 3.6 | 819 Ratings
72.1% Retention Rate | 4 Level of Difficulty
Top Tags for this Harbinger:
Attractive (733)Demanding (702)Dangerous (562)
Similar Harbingers: Arlecchino,
Pulcinella, Pantalone
Posted by Unbiased-Grouping
First week on the job. Need her to step on me and call me worthless. Discovered that I'm into heat play because the thought of her burning me to death makes me feel very very very nice things.
DISCUSSION:
MOST RELIABLE Perfumed-Martyrdom: Welcome to the club, we got jackets.
Divergent-Measurement: She is just... so beautiful... But unfortunately I had to transfer under Pulcinella because I was told that being into degradation is bad for one's self-esteem and mental health.
Draconian-Illustration: ??? She doesn't even degrade her subordinates that much. Unless you mess up often.
Divergent-Measurement: Oh yes I totally mess up often on purpose.
Rate My Harbinger
★★★☆☆ • Il Dottore, the Doctor
Second of the Fatui Harbingers
Average Rating: 1.2 | 627 Ratings
23.8% Retention Rate | 4.9 Level of Difficulty
Top Tags for this Harbinger:
Deranged (621)Negligent (588)Dangerous (434)
Similar Harbingers: Sandrone
Posted by Wet-Obscurity
Ranted about the Regrator rejecting his petition to increase his budget for more than three hours. The average duration of your typical vivisection of some rando, if you will.
If I hear Lord Pantalone's name one more time, I will slice my ears off and present them to Lord Dottore myself.
DISCUSSION:
MOST RELIABLE Swift-Volcano: Can't a man talk about his husband? Personally, I find it entertaining that it's either "experiments" or his "dear friend Pantalone" when it comes to Lord Dottore monologuing unprompted.
Wet-Obscurity OP: THEY'RE MARRIED??!?!?!?!?!
Swift-Volcano: No. I made that the fuck up.
Trained-Lustre: Holy agenda posting. Why is this comment deemed as the "most reliable" by the system?
Questionable-Pathos: Are you perhaps a historian?
Swift-Volcano: Because the system is not homophobic. You, on the other hand…
—
Pantalone’s subordinate lingers after delivering his afternoon tea as scheduled.
Her masked gaze keeps returning to the teacup, a blatantly conspicuous behavior that Pantalone finds himself mildly amused by it. Fortuitously, he has yet to take so much as a sip.
“Is there something else that you need from me?” he asks, returning the teacup upon its saucer with a soft clink of porcelain.
The Fatuus visibly stiffens. Despite the mask she wore, Pantalone could make out the flush that crept upon her cheeks with ease.
“A-Ah! N-No! I was just—”
“Are you perhaps curious about how the tea tastes?” Pantalone prods with a smile. He then gestures at the cup. “Please, have the honor.”
“...To drink from your cup, my lord?”
Pantalone nods once.
For a moment, the Fatuus could only stand still, seemingly uncertain whether or not she had heard him correctly. Pantalone spares himself the effort and simply provides her the silence to make sense of it on her own.
If she assumed that Pantalone was naive enough to fall victim to another attempt at poisoning, she has gravely underestimated him.
Eventually, she reaches for the cup with slightly trembling hands before allowing herself a small sip. Pantalone intently watches her throat bob as she swallows.
Before she could lower the cup, however, Pantalone says, “Drink it all.”
“...O-Of course, my lord!”
She tips her head back and obediently downs the remainder of the piping hot tea in the cup with nary a complaint; her tongue must be positively scalded from the act. Pantalone is most impressed with her.
“Well?”
The Fatuus lowers the empty cup back onto the saucer with both hands. “The tea tastes exquisite, my lord. It’s very fragrant, and with a fruity aftertaste as well.” She bows her head low. “I am grateful for the opportunity to try it.”
Pantalone pays no mind to her gratitude, opting to study her for a moment longer.
No pallor, nor are there any signs of nausea, distress, sweating, or any other immediate consequence one might reasonably expect from having just consumed a poisoned beverage.
She remains well and standing. Smiling, even. And yet her attention has wandered again—this time, it settles upon Pantalone’s hands, folded neatly atop the desk.
“A mora for your thoughts?” He places a gold coin before her.
This somehow pulls his subordinate out of her reverie and she flusters. “I-I’m so sorry, my lord! Please don’t mind me. I shall take my leave now!”
Bemused, Pantalone could only watch her trip on her way out.
—
Rate My Harbinger
★★★★★ • Pantalone, the Regrator
Ninth of the Fatui Harbingers
Average Rating: 4.3 | 751 Ratings
78.2% Retention Rate | 3.3 Level of Difficulty
Top Tags for this Harbinger:
Attractive (751)Terrifying (679)Inspirational (302)
Similar Harbingers: Pulcinella, Signora
Posted by Dense-Passenger
Saw someone here say last week that the Doctor and the Regrator are married. Comrades, I don't think it's true. Lord Regrator has plenty of rings on his left hand, but there's none on his right hand. His right ring finger is empty!
P.S. He made me drink his tea. It was delicious.
DISCUSSION:
MOST RELIABLE Billowy-Hallway: He probably thought you poisoned his drink.
Firsthand-Alligator: While it's safe to say that the Doctor and the Regrator are closer with each other than they are with the other Harbingers, I think it's rather unprofessional to be nosy of your commander's personal life.
Restful-Sufferer: I don't believe it. I think the ring is just hidden beneath the Lord Harbinger's gloves. Both Lord Pantalone and Lord Dottore wear gloves.
Dense-Passenger OP: But Lord Pantalone wears his rings outside of his gloves, though.
Colorfully-Required: I serve under the Fair Lady and I often find the Regrator and the Doctor together at the opera and they're always soooooo close! Like, why don't they just start jerking each other off?!!!!
Unimportant-Steel: ????
Moggy-Civility: It's always those who serve La Signora.
Weighty-Loaf: This is so disrespectful hello??? Who the fuck are you
Rate My Harbinger
★☆☆☆☆ • Il Dottore, the Doctor
Second of the Fatui Harbingers
Average Rating: 1.1 | 634 Ratings
23.8% Retention Rate | 4.9 Level of Difficulty
Top Tags for this Harbinger:
Deranged (634)Negligent (612)Informative (435)
Similar Harbingers: Sandrone
Posted by Fine-Synopsis
Informative
Who in their right mind would marry this Harbinger? I just watched this man perform a multi-organ transplant on a couple sold to the lab without prior tests. He said, and I quote, "Let's see if marital union alone is enough to bypass biological compatibility." ????
Obviously, the couple died one hour after the procedure. It's fucking stupid. Just cutting people open for the love of the game
DISCUSSION:
MOST RELIABLE Focused-Iceberg: Though the premise is admittedly insane, it's still actually fascinating how even two biologically incompatible people could find love in each other. Me thinks the Doctor has potential for romance )))
Fine-Synopsis OP: Fuck no
Animated-Windfall: "Cutting people open for the love of the game" is a bit extreme, no? The Doctor always has his reasons.
Fine-Synopsis OP: Here comes the bootlickers
Animated-Windfall: It's a nice boot to lick.
Annoying-Bookmark: Just licking? Shit, I'm making out with the boot it might as well impale my tonsils.
Outlandish-Gallantry: Tastiest boot in Teyvat
—
Pantalone is at Dottore’s laboratory for what ought to be a routine check-up.
“Your lungs have deteriorated considerably since your last examination. Again.”
Dottore doesn’t even bother to hide the dismay in his voice as though the matter personally offends him. He studies the imaging of Pantalone’s lungs with his arms crossed, attention intently fixed on the damaged tissue with his lips pressed into a thin line.
Pantalone could only regard the imaging with considerably less concern. “If you’re going to schedule a transplant, be a dear and do me the courtesy of making it a weekend.”
Dottore finally looks at him. “What difference would that make? You work on weekends all the same.”
“A longing for normalcy, perhaps.” Pantalone smiles faintly. “No cigarettes for the remainder of the day for me, I take it?”
“It would be preferable if you stopped altogether.”
“Going cold turkey?” Pantalone asks, feigning dread. “You’re really asking for the moon here, Dottore. You won’t even advise me to cut back little by little?”
Dottore gives a derisive scoff. “Please. I suggested as much more than three centuries ago and where has that led us? Countless more lung transplants down the line.”
Pantalone allows for a laugh, a distinct fondness swelling within him as he reaches for Dottore, catching him by the front of his labcoat and drawing him closer.
“Schedule it on a weekend.”
“I wonder whose lungs I have to put in you to get you to take this matter seriously,” Dottore says with a huff, unimpressed, but nonetheless relents when Pantalone coaxes him nearer. “Perhaps I should give you mine. Would the guilt finally consume you if you managed to squander an organ belonging to a friend?”
Pantalone gently eases Dottore of his mask. Dottore doesn’t stop him, and Pantalone is at last graced with the view of those startling red eyes narrowed into a glare.
This is much better.
He plants a soft kiss on the corner of Dottore’s lips as a form of apology. “Guilt is relative,” he murmurs as he pulls away. “There are few things in this world capable of inspiring it in me, Dottore. For example, throwing away an unopened pack of perfectly excellent cigarettes. Think of all the workers involved in procuring the carefully selected ingredients, manufacturing the product, and distributing it. To discard their labor so thoughtlessly would be positively disrespectful.”
Dottore ignores him. “We should be compatible. We share the same blood type, and our lungs are relatively comparable in size. Age is hardly a concern—45 would be more than willing to do it. After all, Zandik at the time favored you enough, didn’t he?” Those red eyes never fail to look unsettling when shone with the harsh brightness of the overhead lights. “It would be interesting to know if your body would reject mine.”
Pantalone’s hold on Dottore’s hip falters and his smile grows noticeably strained. It pulls at the muscles of his cheeks, urging him to drop the act.
He pushes Dottore away, straightens his clothes, and gathers what remains of his composure. He doesn’t look back nor does he say goodbye when he makes his way to the door, slamming it behind him.
—
Rate My Harbinger
★★★★☆ • Il Dottore, the Doctor
Second of the Fatui Harbingers
Average Rating: 1.2 | 659 Ratings
23.8% Retention Rate | 4.9 Level of Difficulty
Top Tags for this Harbinger:
Deranged (659)Negligent (620)Informative (439)
Similar Harbingers: Sandrone
Posted by Callous-Helping
Why did no one tell me that the Second of the Fatui Harbingers is a child?! And a cute one at that!
DISCUSSION:
MOST RELIABLE Plausible-Kingdom: OK. Wait till you meet his 35 year-old version. You're gonna wish you nipped that shit in the bud.
Frozen-Cracker: How to know when a Fatuus serves under Lord Dottore: they think it's normal stuff to say shit like this.
Shallow-Playing: Everyone's always sleeping on 18. The ego of a teenager is something else. Genuinely made me want to kill myself in front of him to alter his life direction. But then I remembered Lord Dottore's segments don't age and that Dottore at 18 was already a fucking psychopath
Beautiful-Instinct: Did your therapist die or something?
Sour-Variation: Only the ignorant have the gall to deem a genius a psychopath. It clearly shows how you're unable to understand how the Doctor's mind works. A pity. TSK TSK!
Rate My Harbinger
★☆☆☆☆ • Pantalone, the Regrator
Ninth of the Fatui Harbingers
Average Rating: 4.2 | 780 Ratings
78.2% Retention Rate | 3.3 Level of Difficulty
Top Tags for this Harbinger:
Attractive (780)Terrifying (679)Inspirational (333)
Similar Harbingers: Pulcinella, Signora
Posted by Shallow-Playing
Pays people to sing Lord Dottore's praises
↪ referenced Sour-Variation
DISCUSSION:
MOST RELIABLE Sour-Variation: If you click on my profile, you will see that I DO talk shit about Lord Dottore, but it's an intellectual diss. I won't bother explaining it to you in case you call me a psychopath, too. Does my intelligence scare you?
Shallow-Playing OP: Fucking psychopath
Sour-Variation: Well well well. The foolish predictably becomes predictable to the wise. What's 66 + 1?
Lucky-Hammock: This is false. You can take my word for it since I've been on the receiving end of Lord Regrator's bribes many times. He actually pays a good number of the Fatui to talk shit about his colleagues in these forums. Yes, that includes the Doctor.
—
Pantalone sat upon the edge of his desk, the top half of his body exposed to the cool air of the office despite the fire in the hearth.
Quietly, he lets Dottore inspect his sutures from his latest operation, remaining still even as bare fingers grazed the skin just shy of the neatly stitched up seam. Pantalone fails to contain a shudder, his breathing quickening—an inevitable consequence of adjusting to his new lungs is how he dismisses it.
“It’s healing well,” Dottore remarks. If he noticed the light flush on Pantalone’s skin, he doesn’t comment on it. “Do you experience any residual pain?”
“Not much.” Pantalone swallows when a dry thumb accidentally brushes upon a pert nipple as it evaluates every inhale that Pantalone takes. “It’s tolerable.
The hand lowers and remains stationed at his waist, while the other moves to annotate the clipboard resting beside Pantalone’s thigh.
“Have you smoked since the operation?” Dottore asks.
Pantalone saw no reason to hide it. Dottore could likely smell his morning cigarette off of him. “I have.”
Dottore sighs, barely audible. His grip on Pantalone’s waist tightens for a fleeting moment. “How many sticks?”
“On average?”
The mask slowly turns to him. “An average would suggest that you’ve smoked a rather considerable amount since your transplant.” There is a faint edge of reproach beneath Dottore’s otherwise measured tone. “It’s only been a week, Feofan.”
Pantalone exhales, feigning weariness. “This particular week has not been especially kind to me, Zandik.”
Dottore purses his lips at the name. He offers no retort, merely redirecting his attention back to his notes, thumb firmly pressed against Pantalone’s lowest rib.
“Stubborness is an affliction I have yet to remedy,” Dottore tells him as he finally relinquished the quill.
His free hand came to Pantalone’s waist, and with both hands secured around him, Dottore drew their hips together. The dulled point of his mask digs into Pantalone’s jaw as he cranes his head to nose at the pulse that betrays the composure Pantalone was intent on keeping.
“You’ll be the first to know should I ever discover a cure for it.”
Pantalone laughs breathlessly, tilting his head to the side to allow Dottore more room. “Goodness. Knowing how prone you are to conducting experiments on yourself, am I to expect a change in demeanor over the following days? Perhaps less nagging and little more courtesy when manhandling a recovering patient?”
“You said this week has been difficult for you.” Dottore sucks and nips at the sensitive little spot behind Pantalone’s ear, feeling the latter tremble beneath his touch from the act alone. “I’m trying to relieve you of some stress, so I won’t have to go through all that trouble again to find you a compatible lung donor within the next twenty years.”
Pantalone could only smile, paying little attention to the soft sounds escaping him as Dottore shifts their hips together, their movements caught somewhere between rough and languid.
“I’m not… entirely opposed to this method.”
Pantalone could feel the heat beginning to creep up and pool low with every grind. He braces himself upon the desk, feeling every bit confined with each passing moment and he wonders if Dottore would be so inclined to free him from his constraints, or if this is an act of punishment. He doesn’t mind either way.
“Ah, Dottore—”
“You have got to be fucking kidding me.”
Pantalone startles just as he feels a sharp, and no doubt disappointed, exhale against the crook of his neck. Blearily, he turns his gaze towards the door. He isn’t wearing his glasses, but he can still make out the unmistakable figure of the Marionette.
He pushes Dottore away, who offers little resistance. Pantalone feels too exposed. “Miss Sandrone, I didn’t hear you knock.”
Sandrone scoffs. “The door was wide fucking open. A horse could prance in here with a marching band and I doubt either of you would notice!”
Dottore helps Pantalone into his clothes, assisting him with his glasses and making sure the chain isn’t caught to any strand of ebony hair. When his vision clears, he could see Dottore’s lips twitch, evidently trying to suppress his laughter at the absurdity.
This isn’t the first time someone has walked in on them (it is always Sandrone, too), and it wouldn’t likely be the last.
Pantalone leaves his perch on the desk and goes to the drawers where he has kept the file prepared for Sandrone. Behind him, he hears Dottore pour himself a drink followed by the loud thud of the door as Sandrone shuts it with considerably more force than necessary.
By the time he returns to his desk, Sandrone has made no attempt to conceal the impatient scowl on her face. Pantalone slides the file across the desk as he settles into his chair. Surprisingly, she doesn’t take it right away.
“What the fuck is he doing here, Pantalone?” Sandrone demands, arms akimbo as she nods at Dottore’s direction. “We had an appointment.”
Across the room, Dottore has stationed himself beside the window with a drink in hand, apparently absorbed in the fine accumulation of dust along the sill as if it was the most fascinating phenomenon he laid his eyes upon in a long while. His interest in it would be convincing if Pantalone had not known him better.
Pantalone closes his eyes for a moment, summoning some suitably tragic image (the Northland Bank going bankrupt) in order to keep his amusement in check.
“Lost track of time, my lady.”
“No fucking wonder.”
Dottore hides his laugh behind a cough. “An observationally limited vocabulary today, Sandrone?”
Sandrone turns to Dottore. “Go fuck yourself.”
“That would be interesting. I must admit, I have thought about it.”
Sandrone’s key begins to spin rapidly. “I don’t want to fucking hear it!” To Pantalone, “The next time you two freaks decide to fuck anywhere else besides a bedroom, make sure the door is closed! What if a subordinate sees you!”
Dottore hums, as if he’s pondering this seriously. “Well, that would be—”
“Dottore, that’s enough.” Pantalone inclines his head to the door. It should be enough of a message. “Thank you for checking in on my well-being. As much as I enjoy your company, I would hate to waste Miss Sandrone’s time any more than I already have.”
Dottore smiles. “Certainly.” He walks to the door. “I’ll see you later, Pantalone. Sandrone.”
Sandrone bristles when Dottore brushes past her. “Fuck off.”
—
Rate My Harbinger
★★★★★ • Pantalone, the Regrator
Ninth of the Fatui Harbingers
Average Rating: 4.3 | 801 Ratings
79% Retention Rate | 3.3 Level of Difficulty
Top Tags for this Harbinger:
Attractive (801)Terrifying (679)Inspirational (350)
Similar Harbingers: Pulcinella, Signora
Posted by Poised-Commemoration
You guys won't fucking BELIEVE what I just saw. For my safety, I will not disclose it. But let's just say that if I die today, I was ready.
DISCUSSION:
MOST RELIABLE Miscreant-Completeness: For those asking, he saw Lord Pantalone's pectorals. Yes, they are massive. Before anyone comes for me, I am Lord Dottore's subordinate. I have seen them too many times to count on the operating table.
Poised-Commemoration OP: What's the criteria for me to be eligible to serve the Doctor?
Daring-Literature: It's like a newly invented way of asking "How do I sell my soul to the devil?"
Miscreant-Completeness: That's the neat part. You shouldn't.
Elliptical-Lamb: Was this yesterday? If so, you forgot to mention that the Doctor got his hands all over them.
Poised-Commemoration OP: Hey, listen. I'm trying not to get killed but if you want a Harbinger hot on your ass for disclosing this information, by all means knock yourself out. Just don't involve me!
Rate My Harbinger
★★★☆☆ • Sandrone, the Marionette
Seventh of the Fatui Harbingers
Average Rating: 3.4 | 589 Ratings
57.2% Retention Rate | 4.8 Level of Difficulty
Top Tags for this Harbinger:
Informative (556)Terrifying (372)Inspirational (280)
Similar Harbingers: Dottore
Posted by Certain-Oracle
Ate my sandwich because she was soooo mad that the Regrator rejected her proposal again. Will be re-posting this as a 1-star rating for Lord Pantalone. I'm beginning to hate the guy for being soooo stingy. Just give our Lady Sandrone the mora!!!!
DISCUSSION:
MOST RELIABLE Uncanny-Arms: SOMEBODY GET THESE BEGGARS OUT OF HERE!
Lumbering-Philosopher: The death threats to Lord Pantalone in this discussion thread goes crazy. Your commanders don't even remember your names for you to be doing all that.
Certain-Oracle: I absolutely agree. I have so many unsavory words for the Regrator even though I haven't seen him in person. Lady Sandrone deserves the mora more than anyone.
Natured-Avian: Lord Dottore is right there.
Certain-Oracle: Put the forum down, loser. This is an anti-Dottore household. You will be executed on sight.
Puzzling-Voltage: Don't bother with the 1-star rating for Pantalone. The Lord Mayor is planning something that I won't be disclosing. Let's just say... our shared nuisance will be gone soon.
Prudent-Bicycle: Lord Pulcinella and Lady Sandrone's troops uniting against a common enemy.
—
Pantalone feels a presence beside him. He meets Dottore’s knowing gaze, red eyes glinting and reflecting the night’s snowfall.
“For a moment, I thought you stepped out to smoke.”
Pantalone laughs. He considered it, of course. But he knew he’d wake Dottore up with the smell. Nonetheless, the consideration on his part didn’t matter in the end.
“Not smoking,” Pantalone says.
Dottore leans against the railing. The Mini Kresnik’s Torch stationed by the entrance that led back to the bedroom was enough to bypass the cold gusts of air blowing upon them, an awkward compromise between the warmth from within and the cold beyond it.
“This is an odd hour to be awake,” Dottore remarks. “Should I prescribe you with some sleeping pills again?”
Pantalone shakes his head. “There’s no need. It’s just—
He looks down at the device in his hand. Dottore follows his gaze.
“The Forum Device.” Dottore raises an eyebrow. “I had noticed that you were becoming rather fond of it. Fishing for information?”
“Everyone’s more prone to honesty when they’re not seeing each other face to face.” Pantalone flips the device over and over in his hand. For the capacity it holds, it is fairly lightweight. “Tonight, for instance, I just found out that Pulcinella once again intends to try his hand at getting rid of me.”
Dottore snorts. “That is old news. If anything, he’s inconveniencing me more than he does you. It’s me who has to patch you up and pull you back from the brink of death. All you have to do is lie still on my table.”
Pantalone smiles as he rests his head on Dottore’s shoulder. “I know,” he murmurs. “It’s the least you could do, Dottore. What with all the money I spend on you and your experiments, and you wasting it all. Fickle man.”
“It’s not my fault that novelty wears out too quickly,” Dottore retorts, shifting closer. Whether it’s deliberate or not, Pantalone couldn’t tell. “There’s always something new and interesting to learn in this world. I strive to unearth all truths as much as I can with the limited time I have.”
The irony is not lost on Pantalone. “You speak like a mortal man on borrowed time. But we both know time is no longer a hindrance for us, Dottore.” All thanks to you.
Dottore hums. “The implications of struggling against one’s mortality makes existence more compelling.”
At this, Pantalone only rolls his eyes with a huff before dragging Dottore back to bed with him.
—
Rate My Harbinger
★★★★★ • Il Dottore, the Doctor
Second of the Fatui Harbingers
Average Rating: 1.7 | 720 Ratings
23.1% Retention Rate | 4.9 Level of Difficulty
Top Tags for this Harbinger:
Deranged (718)Negligent (669)Informative (460)
Similar Harbingers: Sandrone
Posted by Daily-Dysfunctional
Made Lord Pantalone take a break from work AFTER 400+ YEARS. To be fair, I haven't been alive for that long but this is the first ever day off I've ever had since becoming Lord Pantalone's subordinate.
DISCUSSION:
MOST RELIABLE Itchy-Stagnation: I'm so lonely.
Posh-Recipe: They're such a compelling match. I hope we're all invited to the wedding.
Simple-Ignition: You fool. They're already married.
Urgent-Grease: Lady Columbina did it first. She coaxed Lady Sandrone into taking a day off and they played in the snow at the palace gardens.
Daily-Dysfunctional OP: OK.
Sociable-Despotism: Then go cry about it on a Lady Columbina or Lady Sandrone rating?
Mysterious-Moist: Men always get the credit for women's achievements.
Rate My Harbinger
★☆☆☆☆ • Il Dottore, the Doctor
Second of the Fatui Harbingers
Average Rating: 1.3 | 750 Ratings
23.1% Retention Rate | 4.9 Level of Difficulty
Top Tags for this Harbinger:
Deranged (732)Negligent (690)Informative (460)
Similar Harbingers: Sandrone
Posted by Admirable-Runoff
Those who serve Lady Sandrone and Lady Columbina should just flood this man with 1-star ratings until he gets removed from the Fatui.
DISCUSSION:
MOST RELIABLE Sorrowful-Threshold: Wow. This is so petty.
Upwardly-Fretful: As someone who serves Lady Sandrone, I doubt she'd stoop so low to talk down on other people's relationships. She's polite and ladylike. You should follow her example.
MODERATOR Marionette: Breaking my internal rule of never interfering with the forum discussions to make it clear that I have talked down on whatever Pantalone and Dottore have going on many times before.
They both irritate me to hell and back, but I advise that everyone all collectively think before they post anything on here. Flooding 1-star ratings will be deleted and tampering with the statistics will get you banned, and your Forum Device confiscated.
May I remind everyone once and for all what it constitutes to become a Harbinger? Trivial 1-star ratings won’t get a Harbinger kicked out of the Fatui.
Nondescript-Tablespoon: Holy shit.
Upwardly-Fretful: IM SO SORRY LADY SANDRONE!!! PERMISSION TO KILL MYSELF??!!???!?!!
—
“Am I boring you?”
Pantalone looks up. Dottore, sans the mask, looks every bit mesmerizing in the dim lighting of the restaurant. It’s the bone structure, Pantalone thinks to himself. But at present, his good-looking doctor seems to be mildly offended judging by the frown marring his fine features.
Amused, “You are many things, Dottore. But boring is never one of them.”
Dottore raises an eyebrow. “Then, please. Enlighten me as to what I have been saying for the past few minutes.”
Pantalone sighs. It is an admittance of defeat and they both know it. “You didn’t bore me. I was simply…” He discreetly turns off the Forum Device before slipping it into his pocket. “I was simply distracted, that's all.”
Dottore follows the movement, nonetheless. “What’s so interesting about the Fatui forums, anyway? From what I’ve heard from the other segments, it’s nine parts gossip and one part actual useful discourse.”
“I wouldn’t say that,” Pantalone says lightly, oddly defensive of his chosen source of amusement. “It is harmlessly entertaining.”
Dottore gives him a disapproving look. “And what’s so entertaining about a bunch of gossip?”
“The Fatui attempting to glean something about our relationship, for one.” Pantalone can’t help but smile. “It is quite hilarious.”
“I don’t fault them for their curiosity. I, too, still find aspects of our partnership interesting from time to time.”
“They think we are married, Dottore.”
If the statement affects Dottore, he made no attempt at showing it. Thankfully, the uncharacteristically awkward silence that befell them was interrupted by a waiter delivering their food.
After a few bites of food and a sip of wine, Dottore seems to finally get his bearings in order. “I don’t think marriage would suit either of us.”
“Oh?”
“We both have little time and tolerance to indulge in inconveniences brought about by a myriad of complications, preferring to resolve them in the most efficient way possible no matter the means. And marriage in general tends to get complicated and requires… sensitivity,” Dottore explains. He looks quite unsettled. “It is but a subjective claim, of course. I have yet to experience marriage myself.”
Pantalone laughs lightly. Granted, he’s been with Dottore for long enough that the man knew him inside and out (literally and figuratively), it never fails to amuse him when Dottore’s composure slips in times he’s forced to rely on assumptions rather than facts.
“Should I expect a proposal on my desk first thing next week?”
Dottore’s eyes flash. The redness in them seems almost too vivid beneath the restaurant’s subdued lighting to betray the faint hint of color rising in his cheeks.
Eloquently, “What?”
“A research proposal, Dottore,” Pantalone clarifies good-naturedly. “I am already envisioning the pages of text I have to go over, vaguely detailing you trying to pay off some naive maiden to be your wife.”
Dottore goes oddly silent, seemingly finding the food before him of particular interest. Eventually, he speaks.
“...A sound supposition. However, you fail to take into consideration that marriage is a mutual union.”
Pantalone sips his wine. “Not all. At least, some are unfortunate enough not to have a choice in that regard.”
“That is true.” Dottore nods thoughtfully. For some reason, he refuses to meet Pantalone’s gaze. “But I’d rather not belong to that demographic. I’ve had enough experience with self-pity and humiliation to last me a lifetime.”
“You wish for a marriage born out of love, then?”
Dottore huffs as he reaches for his wine. “You jest, Feofan.”
“It’s a genuine question, Zandik.”
The tips of Dottore’s finger visibly tighten around the glass. He finally meets Pantalone’s gaze this time, albeit it being a sharp glare. The message is clear as day: Don’t call me that.
“I do not wish.”