#disco elysium fic

[cupozo]

Read @higgsbison's Tar and Tonic Water not too long ago it's such a good fic I love how it's written it genuinely made me laugh. love Jean's skills to death they're so delusional : ) Precipice being a congealed form... like fuck yeah that works so good for illustrating the repression. Jean's subconscious really said to the pit with you. but yeah, love the fic. with no expectations, I hope more chapters are written. Thank you for this food, I appreciate you higgsbison have some fanart

[discoyelling]

Do you enjoy sad men jorking it? Then you might also enjoy a fic I wrote about a sad man jorking it (:

[nerdacious]

To commemorate the anniversary of Partners and Paper Trails, I commissioned the wonderful, amazing @koreplus to depict a scene from the fic! It's so cool to see Harry's mural come to life!

I still can't believe it's only been a year since I posted the first chapter. I've met so many amazing people online because of it and I'm so thankful for all of you!

[may--hawk]

take me (for a fool) [Disco Elysium]

Summary:

It’s Harry’s first payday after Martinaise. What’s a man to do but get drunk, buy a radio, and walk to see Kim?

Pairing: Harry Du Bois/Kim Kitsuragi

Rating: T

Word Count: ~11K

Two vendredis after your return from Martinaise, Jules Pidieu - radio-operator and, apparently, RCM payroll administrator - hands you a check from the RCM for one hundred sixty-four reál.

DRAMA: Baby, you’re a rich man!

ENCYCLOPEDIA: One hundred sixty-four reál is the cost of a small televisual set, your back fines at the Jamrock Public Library, or ten new board games.

VOLITION: Or your rent, an appropriate amount of groceries - alcohol not included - and a little left over to put by.

ELECTROCHEMISTRY: Or, enough booze to get you to your next paycheck, a kebab every now and again, and maybe twenty reál towards your rent. Tell your landlady you’ll pay her back next paycheck. You mean it this time.

SUGGESTION: The old trick.

INLAND EMPIRE: Shouldn’t your paycheck be…bigger?

PHYSICAL INSTRUMENT: There are a lot of things in your life that should be bigger, champ. You’re just going to have to get used to it.

HALF LIGHT: They’re robbing you blind.

Continue reading on AO3.

[shegoesbyjoy]

the feeling of home

excited to share that my 5+1 fic a date by any other name now has cover art!!! beautifully illustrated by irene koh and commissioned by a dear friend as a gift for me :')

IN FACT i loved this art so much i ended up writing a bonus scene depicting the above (both of which are set during the events of chapter 1) which you can read here. i hope you enjoy <3

[vivisextion]

animal control - E - 21.7k words

🧠 Feral Harry ft. Ancient Reptilian Brain and Limbic System 🧠 Dom Harry/Sub Jean (+ a hint of Dom Kim/Sub Jean) 🧠 guest starring Nice Psychopath Trant

YOU — I’m not coming back. LIMBIC SYSTEM — Guess what, my favourite martyr? The world will keep spinning, on and on, into infinity. With or without you. YOU — I don’t care. Let it. ANCIENT REPTILIAN BRAIN — Time to kill the infernal engine. Time to be the king of nothing. Time to set up permanent residence in Fuck-All-Borough! --- After the tribunal in Martinaise, Harry doesn't wake up from his coma. Instead, two familiar voices do.

🔗 https://archiveofourown.org/works/63666955/chapters/163201747

[marspumpkin]

Chapters: 1/? Fandom: Disco Elysium (Video Game) Rating: Mature Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Harry Du Bois/Kim Kitsuragi, Alice DeMettrie & Kim Kitsuragi Characters: Kim Kitsuragi, Harry Du Bois, Ptolemy Pryce, Alice DeMettrie Additional Tags: Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Slow Burn, Alternate Universe - X-Files Fusion, Sort Of, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Mystery, The Pale (Disco Elysium), Romance, Mild resentment to lovers, Moralintern (Disco Elysium), ft the author’s shameless communism, Canon Universe, ie canon setting with a few minor changes, Paranormal Investigators, author-typical moralintern bashing Summary:

“Agent Kitsuragi, are you familiar with an agent by the name of Harrier Du Bois?”

Kim blinks. If by Du Bois he’s referring to Captain Sober Du Bois…

”Yes, sir. I know of him.”

”How so?”

Water-cooler talk. Kim may not be very social at work, but he hears whispers and snickers carried around the office like leaves downstream. Did you hear how Du Bois drank so much he lost his memory? Oh, God, he’s gone on another bender. He’s had three partners resign in as many months. This time he’s on the street screaming about the apocalypse and threatening to blow his brains out.

Agent Kim Kitsuragi in data analysis might be called the record-holder for the Revachol Citizens’ Bureau of Investigation’s least interesting employee. Seemingly out of nowhere, he is assigned to investigate Pale phenomena with Agent Harrier Du Bois, the Bureau’s most infamous paranormal whack job. What could possibly go wrong?

[loading-sideblog-posts]

disco elysium au where harry can see ghosts. like actual ghosts not just talking corpses

like what if he notices a man following kim around but when he goes to bring him up, kim doesnt see him

and then kim talks to harry about eyes and the pieces kind of fall into place for him

[trucewiththefuries]

Been working on this since September and I finally have enough written to start posting it. I expect it will be around 70k words when it’s done.

Summary: In Revachol, Harry du Bois has visions of a completely different life. In his mind's eye, he sees tall glass buildings, double-decker buses, and machines that cannot exist. In London, Harry du Bois is haunted by nightmares. The two were never meant to know about each other.

Excerpt under the cut.

“What if I told you that the world is wrong?”

Kim leans back in his chair and takes a sip of soda. “Is this another one of your political mind projects?”

His transfer papers have been submitted. He should move to the 41st next month. I think he’s excited about that. G.R.I.H. sounds like a shithole. Not that Jamrock is much better, but at least it’s an interesting shithole. I’ve discovered that I like it.

“No. Not political. I mean literally. The whole world.”

He’s smiling his “okay Harry, let’s hear what new nonsense you’ve come up with” smile. “The whole world is wrong?”

“Yes. Nations. Isolas. The pale. Especially the pale.”

There is a look of desperation on his face. We talked a lot about the pale when we were in Martinaise together. Or rather I did. I don’t understand why he doesn’t like talking about it so much.

“And what do you propose is wrong with them?”  

“Everything. They are not how they should be.”  

“How should they be then?”

“Fuck knows, Kim. Fuck knows.”  

“So what you’re saying, detective, is that it hasn’t been a particularly successful mind project?”

His eyes narrow and glint with amusement and he doesn’t quite manage to hide a smirk.

He wasn’t trying very hard. It’s just for show.

And he’s bloody gorgeous like this.

Sexy even.

“It’s an ongoing mind project,” I say. “Give it more time.”

[teddypoi-qd]

this is the thesis behind iron lung, btw. just so we're clear where this fic is going.

new chapter up now

Kim has another visit, sees a few things more clearly, and reflects on his transfer to the 41st.

…Mais si, sans se laisser charmer, Ton oeil sait plonger dans les gouffres Lis-moi, pour apprendre à m'aimer…

[tea-stained-tabby]

https://archiveofourown.org/works/64950385/chapters/166963993

i just finished the first chapter, i hope you give it a read! lmk what you think!

[lilyminer]

Hey y’all! Like I’ve been alluding to recently I have been writing a KimHarry fic which is basically just a hypothetical I’ve been thinking of about the game used to do a bit of a character study.

Check it out if that seems interesting!

[worlds-end-discotheque]

21 Days Until the Death of Kim Kitsuragi

As seen, with wonder, by The End.

Day 2:

Harry was walking alone towards the ocean. The night was as vast and melancholy as its predecessors. All of Martinaise could be swamped and swallowed in that word – melancholy, and forlorn – and it would still mean so little to the hunger of sadness that reeked from the roots of the city itself. It was nighttime, and snow fell in delicate, pearly flakes, too light for such a dismal place. And yet the snow brought beauty, so craved and belonging.

Kim watched Harry exit the Whirling-in-Rags and walk towards the sea. From behind the splintered slats of fencing that led to the hostel’s backyard, even the frost-caked cobblestones appeared warm and solid. Firm ground hardened even further by the chill of reality as the tears of winter collapsed onto it.

The lieutenant turned back to the pitch black of the murderground. Far above, he knew a dicemaker may be gazing at him, too. The thought was comforting in its hauntedness. Kim knew there was nothing else to be found here at this glimpse of peace. He moved from the corner of the cursed office building and the shattered fence, for a moment eclipsing the light of the streetlamps and obscuring the crime scene from the rest of the world.

Kim Kitsuragi, the wall of last defense.

For a moment, Kim wondered if it would be wise to follow Harry at this hour. Surely the detective deserved time to himself; Kim trusted his recovery in the past couple days to the highest extent that he could, although the reliability of that trust was founded on little but gut instinct and hope. Surely, Harry would not be out to ruin things for himself; he could do that on his own, in his hostel room, entirely undisturbed and unperceived.

However, regardless for whose sake it was, the lieutenant felt a compelling yearning to be near the sea. To hear the gentle lap of waves against the stone foundations that held Martinaise just barely above the water. He tucked his hands inside his jacket pockets, taking a moment to look at the highest window of the building beside him. A beat of silence passed. Then, Kim decided to wave goodbye just in case the lonely dicemaker had joined him in his quiet evening contemplations.

He wondered if she would be safe, should the ocean decide to walk the city streets same as any citizen.

Quietly, Kim began walking towards the plaza. The lonely tower viewers cut thin, starless shadows against the indigo blackness of the night sky. It was such a shame, to leave such a thing in a place where it could not serve its only purpose. Kim paused beside one, observing the chewing gum crusted and cemented to the viewfinder, and offered a sympathetic pat to the freezing metal of the scope before continuing past the fountain.

Harry stood on the other side, his elbows leaned on the balustrade. Occasionally, a wayward gust of wind would stir the edges of his blazer, the longer part of his hair would come untucked from behind his ears. Kim stopped for another moment to stare.

He wasn’t unlike the tower viewer, in his own way. With a bit of attention and some coaxing, Kim was sure that through Harry, there were magnificent things to be seen. There were ways to witness Revachol that were impossible to imagine without the lens of Harry du Bois. He was just stuck, and needed someone to help chip the chewing gum away. It was a funny comparison, but sad, in its own way. Kim looked back to the tower viewer as he felt a pang in his chest, before finally going to join Harry at the ledge.

Kim leaned beside him, breezing past how Harry jumped, startled at his sudden appearance.

“What do you see?” The lieutenant asked calmly.

“Kim - how -” Harry stammered at first, a bewildered look on his face, momentarily wiping away the deeply carved lines of age and exhaustion as if they were nothing more than lines in the dirt. A small, bemused smirk ticked at the corner of Kim’s lips. Harry’s beautiful, sea-green and sorrowful eyes flicked down, catching the movement, and his shoulders slipped from his wooly muttonchops back down to relaxed. As relaxed as he could be, being Harry du Bois. The detective exhaled a deep breath that could have mirrored the murmur of the wind, and leaned against the eroded stone of the balustrade.

“I was trying to see my reflection in the water,” Harry muttered after a long moment of quiet.

Kim found the response odd, but instead of frowning, the lieutenant tilted his head slightly as if he were trying to see the detective from a different angle. “Why? You have a mirror in your bathroom, don’t you?”

Harry winced, shaking his head slowly with a grimace, “No, I do, it’s just... I think something’s wrong with it.”

“The mirror?” Kim pressed gently.

“Maybe, that’s what I hope, because the alternative is...” Harry trailed off again; this time, his right hand flexed and unflexed with unreleased tension. Kim noticed for the first time that Harry’s knuckles were chapped and calloused with old scars.

Kim Kitsuragi’s brow pinched with sympathy. He knew too well what it was like to feel shame and discomfort at the sight of one’s reflection. He did not wish the feeling on anyone.

“Do you want me to check your hair, or something?” Kim offered lamely after a pause.

To his surprise, Harry actually laughed softly, his shoulders moving in sync with the sound of his voice and his breath. He was like an instrument, discordant and harmonious in all his ways. Kim felt the comforting draw of compassion and gratitude.

“No, no, it’s not that, it’s…” Harry looked to Kim and moved his hand, his palm hovering somewhat such that Kim thought he was about to place it on his arm. In a fleeting moment of awkward panic, Harry moved his hand over to even more awkwardly pat Kim’s back twice. Kim huffed a single, amused sound through his nose, the corner of his lips quirking upwards. The detective blushed under his dark, scruffy facial hair, crossing his arms and leaning back against the stone beside them.

“I remember hearing somewhere that if you think you’re stuck in a dream, you should look at your reflection. If it looks like someone else, then you know it’s a dream.”

Kim shifted, leaning one arm against the balustrade and facing sideways to properly acknowledge what Harry was telling him. “You are unsure if you are dreaming or not? What about your reflection in the mirror, you said it might be broken?” Kim’s fingers itched for his notebook, tucked safely in the side pocket of his cargo pants, but he decided against the urge. It seemed inappropriate to analyze Harry like a case. He was a friend. “Wouldn’t I know if this was a dream of yours or not?”

“I don’t know if that’s how dreams work, but I also don’t know enough about dream-science to say for sure,” Harry frowned, nearly dejected at his lack of expertise in an impossible, ongoing science. “The thing about the mirror is that I know it’s me. I’m not happy about it, I don’t think that’s really what I look like… but I see the reflection and think ‘oh, that’s me.’ I’m not a stranger. But I wanted to double-check.”

“Hm.”

“C’mon, Kim, don’t ‘hm’ at me, that makes me nervous!”

“I’m sorry,” Kim huffed another small laugh, holding a hand up peacefully to placate Harry’s worry, “I just found it interesting, that’s all.”

Wouldn’t it be odd to find out this was all a dream? What if Kim was the one dreaming, and this was his sign to wake up and face the music? No, it couldn’t be. If it was a dream, things would be different. Kim would have made them different. His minute smile dropping, Kim turned to plant both elbows on the railing, folding his hands loosely and gazing down at the dark, sleepy ocean water. It looked deeper, and more menacing at night.

“Would this be a good dream, or a bad dream?”

“I don’t think any dreams are good dreams, Kim.”

And there it was again: the heart of Harry du Bois, worn like armor only to be shattered to a thousand shards. Kim wanted to pick each piece up, one by one, even if their jagged edges would cut into his palms and numb his fingers. Until his blood ran red down his wrists, Kim would collect the broken parts of Harry’s heart.

What a terrifying truth, discovered in so short a time.

Kim swallowed, feeling a tightness in his throat. “Why do you say that, Harrier?”

Harry’s shoulders sagged as if the weight of the world rested upon them. “Because they just remind us of things we can’t have, for whatever reason. Dreams are desires, but behind a veil. They’re unreachable, which is why we think they’re special enough to be called ‘dreams’.”

“I think dreams are different than what they appear to be.”

Harry laughed wryly, deprecatingly. “Beneath all the symbolism and stuff, I guess. Some of my dreams are cracked out.”

“No, that’s not exactly what I mean,” Kim picked at a loose thread on his sleeve. “I mean, yes, the symbolism makes it difficult to understand sometimes. But dreams are more about the feeling, what signals your brain wants to receive, rather than the actual events taking place. So when someone says it’s a ‘dream come true,’ they don’t mean the exact thing happened – they mean they feel that level of emotion they expected.”

The lieutenant’s voice had gone soft. Harry noticed a far-off look in his eyes, as if he was seeing a whole different world behind the silver reflection of his glasses. He seemed younger this way, and older at the same time. Exhausted, worn out… but also nostalgic. Fond, even. Harry had the sudden urge to capture that expression in a photograph, or a painting. Even if it was just his eyes. Harry could never hope to match the sense of life he saw within them; he could sketch and paint and create for centuries, and never replicate the look in Kim Kitsuragi’s eyes when he had a dream.

Harry took a small step sideways, closer to the lieutenant, and leaned forward slightly. His tone was curious, no less his own, yet it had a level of compassion to it that made the tips of Kim’s ears feel hot. “What’s your dream, Kim? To explain it like that, you must have thought a lot about it.”

Oddly, Kim seemed startled by the question, though his expression slowly fell into a reflective, sad smile. He glanced at Harry for a moment, before looking up to the sky where thousands of stars twinkled like shattered glass thrown to the wind. “I wanted to be a pilot.”

“Wanted? Why don’t you-“ Harry started, before remembering himself. Shame colored his cheeks and he looked down at his worn hands, dirt beneath his short fingernails. “Oh. I’m… I’m sorry.”

“No, it’s okay.” Kim assured, shrugging slightly, before stretching his arms above his head and stepping back from the balustrade. “I know that flying an aeroplane isn’t possible for me. But I still dream about the feeling. The dream isn’t to be a pilot, Harry, it’s to know what it feels like to fly.”

Despite the sadness in the world, and the cruelness of circumstances, when the lieutenant pulled away from the railing and subsequently the haggard detective, there was a smile on his face. Not the polite, thoughtful smiles that had crossed his features before; no, this smile showed teeth, and crinkled the corners of Kim’s imperfect eyes, forming dimples on one cheek but not the other. This smile revealed a multitude of dreams, of hopes, and of possibilities.

Even Harry, dreamless as he was, could not help but smile in return.

With a smile like that, Kim could make anyone feel like they were flying. Harry wondered what it would take to make the lieutenant feel the same.

“Wouldn’t that be cool?” Kim spread his arms wide, looking back up to the sky, as if he was beneath a waterfall and was allowing the thunderous motion of water to wash away any hurt. Kim sighed, before dropping his arms back to his sides. The smile slowly slipped from his face, returning to its hidden, secret place. But the glimmer remained in his eyes.

Very disco.

“Yeah, Kim. That would be cool.” Harry’s own smile remained, an echo keeping the legacy of Kim’s momentary joy alive.

Day 1

[nerdacious]

“Fancy meeting you again, Gendarme,” a soft voice settles next to him.

Kim turns to see the man from the balcony from Martinaise, cigarette in hand as usual, shirt still unbuttoned. Kim’s expression doesn’t betray his surprise at this interruption. This was the last person he expected to meet tonight.

A year ago today I posted my first Disco Elysium fic, Call Me By His Name. So I commissioned the talented @snaxk to draw a scene from it to mark the occasion!

If you like pining Kim haunted by the (metaphorical) ghost of Harry, you should check it out! And if you like case fics and slow burns, you should read the follow-up!

[may--hawk]

The Same River Twice [Disco Elysium]

Summary:

You’ve been having strange dreams. Awful dreams, dreams in which Kim dies, every night. You think someone’s trying to tell you something… SHIVERS: They are. Excerpt: KIM KITSURAGI: “Harry. You were - making noise.” INLAND EMPIRE: Moaning. Crying out. KIM KITSURAGI: In the dark - the only light the streetlight and the neon glow from the Frittte cast in through the window - he looks unreal. CONCEPTUALIZATION: Ghostly. HALF LIGHT: His eyes. You can’t see his eyes. INTERFACING: You have to land a hand on his knee, to see if he’s real. KIM KITSURAGI: He’s warm with sleep. He makes a surprised noise, but doesn’t pull away.

Chapters one and two posted on AO3. Five chapters total.

Rated: M

Pairing: Harry Du Bois/Kim Kitsuragi

Continue reading on AO3.

[vernoope]

Chapters: 1/1 Part 1 of the series: the vanitas case: that's how i lost you Fandom: Disco Elysium (Video Game) Rating: Mature Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Harry Du Bois/Jean Vicquemare Characters: Harry Du Bois, Jean Vicquemare Additional Tags: POV Second Person, Angst, Post-Canon, Smoking, Codependency, Unhealthy Relationships, Past Relationship(s), Depression, hint of harrykim if you squint, References to Drugs, Suicidal Thoughts

Summary:

When he looks at you, there’s no recognition in his eyes.

Nothing.

A blank stare that contradicts the heaviness that shadows your irises every time you look at him, the weight of years of partnership, drinks, and drugs that create the form of whatever relationship you both shared so far.

▪︎ ▪︎

This is my first fic for the fandom so I'm a bit nervous, but I appreciate any comments and kudos! Thanks <3