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vvindication · 15 days

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2, 7, and 25 for the oc ask yaaaaaaayyy (for whoever you'd like !!)

MINTT YAAAAY thank you hugging you hugging you !!

2. How much death and/or destruction have they wrought? SUCH A LOADED QUESTION. and such a fucking good one. if I were to compare the amount of misery caused between Vincent, Armistice, and Joakim ...

well, Armistice was the moralist politician. she was definitely causing the most harm on a grand scale whether she liked it or not. im not really interested in getting into the weeds of All That (bureaucracy is the quickest way to bore me I cant be assed to research that deeply for a hobby fic) but he was not responsible in his job whatsoever

well, no - by the time the events of The Fic roll around he isnt. I really do think she tried to be the son her father raised at first. that might have caused even more suffering than ignoring his job altogether to deal drugs and purposefully endanger himself. by actually trying to be a good moralist and make sure that the status quo is upheld (no matter the suffering of those people under the status quo)

as for our cop duo, Joakim has one extra year of formal service before Vincent, as well as a few informal years as a civilian informant. I'd like to think he did a lot more good in that time than harm, considering the reason he got involved to begin with was stumbling onto human trafficking as a teen - but he is also more trigger-happy than he would like to admit. if he thinks someone is in danger, he WILL shoot first and ask questions later, which inevitably leads to killing and maiming

I imagine his record of kills is more numerous than his partner's. I'd say an estimate of 1.5 deaths per year until his own death - making that 6 in total at the very least (idk why I decided to do fancy math about it, but it is what it is)

Vincent on the other hand avoids lethal force at all costs - he's not the strongest physically, so most of this entails convincing Joakim to back him up with restraint/fists rather than a bullet. hes trying to help people, not kill them - but then again, he gains the nickname Omen for a reason. people tend to die around him for no real fault of his own. it's Revachol, after all. hes killed about 3 people out of his service of 8 years, one out of strict vengeance for Joakim's death, others accidents of self-defense that he regrets immensely

7. What's their pain tolerance? FUN QUESTION I was thinking abt this while watching a character have an incredibly high pain tolerance going hmmm interesting ...

I do think Vincent is one of those people that has absolutely freakish pain tolerance + strength in the heat of an altercation because of adrenaline, but as soon as it starts working its way out of his system that guy is DOWN for the count. kind of dude who doesnt even realize hes hurt until someone else points it out. small things hes a wimp for though <3

speaking being a wimp, Mikael has to have some crazy pain tolerance considering how often hes constantly fuckin getting hurt and still smiling away. has a lot to do with him keeping up an extreme facade for police work & toxic masculinity, but if he didnt have it before police work, I imagine it would be a "fake it til you make it" kind of situation that developed over time. predator animal fear where no one can ever see him weak or theyre going to Kill Him To Death

25. Have they tore someone to shreds with their bare hands? With their teeth? OOOOH okay I love having characters that bite because well. thats me. im the biterrr (and I think thats a fun way of showing how potentially unhinged or desperate a character is in a fight) but I wouldnt say any of my disco ocs fit this criteria. HOWEVER

my FC5 Rook does definitely fit that criteria (funny - hes also a cop but from a different media) as the de facto leader of resistance against a violent cult. being stranded in what amounts to the middle of nowhere with no official backup and an organized militia trying to torture, indoctrinate, and/or kill him does insane shit to his brain. that guy turns into a monster all for the initial goal of genuinely trying to stand up to some evil shit he didnt like. the road to hell is paved with good intentions, and so on ...

anyway on top of that he was starved and denied water and who knows what else by one of those particular cult guys in an effort to basically turn him into a trained killing machine, so if he hadnt already been ready to seriously rip ppl apart with his hands & teeth that definitely did it

#vvin babbles #keyminnt #vincent travart #armistice arcelis #joakim virtaenen #mikael crisis wyrzyk #johen rook #I really dont talk about my darling Crisis enough !! but hes in a bit of timeline limbo atm #or Rook for that matter. but what can I say. hes from another game and Ive got disco brainrot

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vvindication · 8 months

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what would you trade the pain for? — 4. Solace

4.3k word count content warnings: implied homophobia, sexual harassment, canon-typical drug use

lots of themes and ideas within this chapter were inspired by @thegrimreaperisanerd's absolutely phenomenal HarryKim fics "Imprinting" and "DUCKLINGS THAT DROWN", highly recommend them to anyone who's enjoyed this one <3

Vincent Travart, diligent patrol officer of precinct 41 in the RCM, forms a bond with the infamous Lt. Du Bois when he fails to escape his own inherent need to help people — unwittingly exposing himself to the very beating heart of Revachol, a man who he will never be able to drive from his mind as it seems he's fated to shadow his every step.

read the full thing on AO3 💖

"Am I ever going to see you again?"

Patterned sunlight filters through the windshield of the motor carriage, highlighting the pale lashes of his companion and shimmering in the strands of his hair, golden threads akin to spun honey. He smiles fondly at him from under relaxed eyelids. "Of course you will, officer." He reassures smoothly, his voice just as sweet.

Sitting forward, he slips into Vincent's space with practiced ease. The soft tips of his fingers stroke up along the ridges of his knuckles and their lips meet with the barest hint of a kiss. The officer sighs out through his nose at the contact, eyes closing. Everything about this man - his smell, his touch, his taste - radiates a certain warmth. He lingers in it, soaking it in, committing the texture of his lips to memory.

A cough from outside breaks the momentary bliss. Each of the two men quickly retract into their respective seats, one looking far more guilty than the other as he shuffles back into his place and casts his gaze at the floor.

"I've got that station call for you, Mr. Arcelis." Joakim announces himself as he steps up into the driver's side of the vehicle, fixated on the slip of paper he holds in his hand. He doesn't once look up from it, even as he addresses the man eyeing him warily in the adjacent passenger seat. "This station call obligates you to return to Precinct 41 …"

Near word for word from the days of training, the routine easily fades into meaningless speech. Instead, Vincent watches Arcelis as he reluctantly takes the form in his delicate grasp and scans over its dutifully filled out sections. Slowly, he nods in understanding, though his pale eyes shine with a certain apprehensiveness.

He keeps his silence, even after his partner has seen fit to dismiss him with a near guarantee of another eventual meeting.

"What the hell was that, Travart?" A few minutes later Joakim pulls over onto a quiet street among the sprawling network of Central Jamrock's old buildings and turns in his seat to face him, wide-eyed. He's gripping the steering lever with a tight grip, even after he's parked and the engine is cooling with inactivity.

"Was what?" He snaps back. His shoulders have been hunched and at the ready ever since they'd stopped in the first place. Tension is curling like a tightening spring in his chest, winding up further, further …

He scoffs in disbelief. "What if someone had seen you?" The other's mouth opens, yet he remains wordless. "They don't need more fuel for the mill."

"The - mill?" Even as he asks, understanding dawns on his features. "Wh - What? You're not going t-to …" Vincent struggles, producing not much more than a vague sound of confusion in his throat.

"Report you?" He guesses. As he looks back at him with a leveled gaze, a twitch in his expression suggests that he's genuinely considering the idea after speaking it into existence.

It takes some time for him to recollect from that line of thought. "I-I'd expect that, no, you're - not going to start calling - calling me slurs?" He lets out a little cynical laugh, bitter in tone, "Telling me h-how I'm -"

"The fuck you take me for?" Joakim recoils, apparently taken aback. Quickly, he resumes upholding his stern disapproval. "Sorry, excuse me. I don't want any part of that. You need to be careful."

Vincent's mouth is uncomfortably dry when he runs out of words to say, mind flickering with half-thoughts as numerous as the raindrops that begin to drum against the roof. At the sound, he pulls open the door and steps out into the empty street.

His partner calls his name with concern.

Standing under the sky, he lifts his head and lets the moisture slowly seep into his uniform. It's a welcome reprieve from the past week of heat that had soaked into the very bones of the city in much the same manner, gutters fervently drinking up the offering of succor they've finally been granted. His hair is rinsed of gel by the increasing torrent in a mere minute. The lenses of his glasses spotted with water, the cloudscape above blurs into unremarkable paint strokes of grey.

HE NEEDS YOU.

The voice shudders through him like a sudden gust of wind - the inside of his skull coming alive with overwhelming dial tones and the sound of phones ringing in their handsets, desperate to be answered. He wraps his arms around himself, ducking down into his coat, but he's stood in the rain too long. He's shivering uncontrollably, teeth chattering.

He turns back to the safety of the motor carriage only to stop dead when he glimpses the lieutenant standing a few paces away in the street. His green blazer is drenched without his issued cloak to protect him from the elements, weighing on his shoulders and dragging him down into the muck that's been swept downhill.

Vincent steps toward him, reaching out. "… Harry?"

Joakim grabs his arm, a vice-grip that floods sudden adrenaline into his veins. He's forcefully twisted away in a rush, the world around him blurring. "What do you think you're doing? You're an officer, not a socialite."

Dread comes over him, pierced into the marrow of his bones. "Let go -"

"You know you're playing with fire," he's muttering in a hushed tone now, "sneaking around with a politician, a suspect." With every word spoken he closes the distance between them, until he's pulled Vincent flush against his chest, coppery breath hot on his face.

Attempting to wrench himself free, he finds his arms too weak to fight him off. "S-Stop, stop, Joakim, th-that hurts -" he hisses out between his teeth, muscles contorting further in a wasted effort to keep any amount of distance between them.

"Be my rescue," the discordant yet familiar phrase tumbling from his mouth sends a jolt through his system - "just for tonight." The man's tongue finds his throat, trails up the line of skin, and he gasps - thrashing in place and ripping at the fabric of the other's shirt. He fights him like an animal cornered, bearing claws and fangs, until he can hardly breathe anymore. His lungs burn with exertion.

Gulping for oxygen, he chokes instead - brackish water filling up his lungs in its absence. Vincent blinks rapidly and fights for consciousness as sunlight flickers on the surface of the waves above him, so far out of reach.

Coughing like a man dragged from the Esperance itself, he wakes abruptly with the blankets thrown from his bed in fitful sleep. There's a dull ringing in the kitchen as the phone calls for his attention, another eagerly awaiting an answer on the other side, but he can't bring himself to force his aching body to act. He's still shaking, heart rapid in his chest as he adjusts back into the world of reality.

Eventually the officer slumps back onto his mattress and wipes the sweat from his forehead, then unsteadily pulls the covers over himself once more with a suppressed shiver. It's far too cold of a morning for this.

read the rest on AO3 💖

#vvinwork #vvin writes #disco elysium #vincent travart #antonin arcelis #joakim virtaenen #this chapter was soooooo fun finally I get to use things Ive built up in prev ones wheeeehehe #armistice arcelis

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vvindication · 10 months

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what would you trade the pain for? — 3. Fire Escape

3.4k word count content warnings: implied homophobia, alcoholism, medical neglect

read the full thing on AO3 💖

"Did you hear about the latest Mullen case?"

Any other day, Vincent would have tuned out the usual morning gossip. Today however, his coworkers in the B Wing crowd around a couple of commandeered desks - including his own - cluttering the workspace with lukewarm mugs of scalded coffee. The machine has been acting up ever since yesterday's power outage, providing even less appetizing drinks than usual.

"What? Like, those lame detective novels?" A Junior Officer, no older than eighteen, replies, "can't believe you read that garbage."

Unfortunately, the others are impossible to ignore while standing over him, chattering among themselves.

"No, dumbass," the other insists, "the one working in C Wing."

"There's a Mullen in C Wing?" The eldest of them interjects - a young brunette man who's sprawling his arms across the surface as if he owns it.

Joakim meanwhile has claimed one of the few chairs available to sit directly behind his partner, a loose sheaf of papers in hand as he pretends not to listen. He passively scans the words printed there, leaned back comfortably with his feet propped up on the empty desk adjacent. Over his shoulder, Vincent can make out what seems to be a general summary of gang activity in, and related to, Central Jamrock.

"No! Not literally!" The blond who started the whole conversation is beginning to lose his patience, sighing and letting his cup thud onto the wood. "Just some fuckup I heard about. Gonna let me tell or not? - heard the guy's marriage fell apart when he was caught with another -"

"Shh! Don't let Břeti hear you."

Everyone turns their heads at that, light catching on the lens of Vincent's glasses and reflecting in a distracting spot on the ceiling. The grizzled lieutenant glares in their direction from under greying brows, busy enough not to waste the time reprimanding them on his way past.

He dares his own little wave, even if it isn't reciprocated.

The junior laughs and elbows the man standing next to her, "Quit being such a kissass, Travart." Her companion snickers, looking away.

Joakim's gaze snaps up, suddenly shifting to sit properly in his chair. "Can see your brown nose from here. Not a competition."

"That's rich from you -!"

Within seconds, overlapping voices are drowning out all other sound as an argument cascades down around him like a great waterfall. He flinches and clasps a hand over one ear. "Hey, hey, take it easy -" he tries to protest - none of them relent. Underneath, a shrill whine is still piercing at his mind. He forces his eyes shut tight as pressure gathers behind them.

"Quiet." His partner's raised voice cuts through the noise above him, cold as jagged stone. There's a tense few seconds of silence before anyone speaks again. "Gossip somewhere else. We're working."

"Fuckin' killjoy ..." One of them mutters.

The three begrudgingly collect their mugs, wandering away to take perch on one of the wing's less ancient desks of sturdy manufactured metal. That certainly won't be the last of the trouble they cause in one day.

Vincent hesitantly checks that he is in the clear with one eye, still clutching at his own head. "You good?" Joakim speaks calmly. He's the only one standing over him now, warm grey gaze betraying concern as he grips his shoulder.

He nods, wordless at first, then taps his temple. "Head's been killing me ever since that lightning strike."

"And you haven't seen the lazareth." It's a statement laced with disappointment, not a question.

"Hell no." He mutters, fingers pressed into the skin.

"Travart -"

"Don't get started. I'll go see him after lunch."

"Good." He moves away with a sharp tap to his upper back. "Don't keep me waiting."

"Yeah, yeah."

read the rest on AO3 💖

#vvinwork #vvin writes #disco elysium #vincent travart #joakim virtaenen #get out of my wips boy. disco blast

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vvindication · 1 year

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what would you trade the pain for? — 2. Aftermath

3.6k word count content warnings: smoking, alcoholism, harassment, mentioned break up

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Vincent's absence has become a notable occurrence during the lunch hour, where before he'd frequently lingered in a quiet corner of the break room like a persistent ghost. It started with late arrivals, gradually leading into occasional disappearances - the tar scent of cigarette smoke lingering on his dark uniform - until his presence had ceased entirely. While the chatter of the precinct's officers continues on around him, Harry picks distractedly at his wilted sandwich.

Unknown to him, Vincent himself is leaning against the rusty railing of a decaying fire escape. The structure juts out from the very end of the old silk mill like a metallic fungus, clashing with the ruddy brickwork as it snakes down the building. The air is thick with autumn rain, and he takes a deep breath of his smoke. Below, the city is a hive of activity. Raindrops patter along the tops of tenements, lorries, and people alike as the daily cycle commences before his eyes, to and fro among Jamrock's estuary of roads, filling the silence with the steady drone of ever-moving traffic. He watches it all without comprehension, his focus on a murmur beyond.

Despite their inelegant first meeting - an awkward encounter after-hours that provided more insight to one another than any of the chats they'd had in passing - the two men had kept in contact. He'd offered his phone number - "in case of emergencies" he clarified, though the lieutenant's flash of a grin when handed the scrap of paper implied that he expected otherwise. What had started out as a simple attempt to help a coworker in need transformed into an odd sort-of friendship the evening Harry had called and asked for him.

He rolls the cooler end of his cigarette back and forth between his finger and thumb, habitually. Deep in thought.

When the door behind him opens with a heavy thunk, he jolts - the little spark of a cigarette flickering out and disappearing onto the sodden pavement two stories down.

"Is this where you've been hiding lately?"

He scoffs, straightening out to greet the man who'd abruptly interrupted his thoughts. "Hiding?" He asks, rhetorical. Still, the corner of his lip turns up in a faint smile as he greets him. "Lt. Du Bois."

The heavy metal door swings shut as he steps out beside him, giving the platform a wary glance as it groans with the added weight. "This isn't the safest place for a smoke."

"Yeah, probably not. At least it's quiet." His tone is subdued, shrugging his shoulders and resting his arm against the rail. Already his brown gaze has wandered off, the small fleck of blue in his left iris much more visible in the clouded daylight. He watches the swifts fly in arcs above the roofs of Jamrock, dark little silhouettes dancing in the pale grey sky.

Harry gives what seems an appropriate pause, following his lead in appreciating the view from their vantage point. Then he presents his own box of cigarettes from his overcoat, bright red with a bold triangle of black printed across the front. Astras, half-full. "Sorry about your cig."

"Oh - thanks." His hand hovers, uncertain, then takes one for himself. He uses his own lighter, shielding the flame from the humid breeze, and wordlessly offers him the same courtesy. The lieutenant leans in close with cigarette between his lips to catch it before it's blown out.

He lets the smoke trail from his open mouth, billowing away with the wind. "Since when do you smoke, anyway?"

Vincent chuckles softly. "Since I was young and stupid." He presses his cheek into the palm of his own hand, the darkened rings under his eyes prominent as he closes them. His posture is sagging with evident fatigue.

"Wait - aren't you twenty? That's not even old."

He hums. "Younger and stupider, then."

That at least makes him laugh a little.

The seconds tick by as they smoke side by side, arms slung over the railing, allowing cold raindrops to soak into the fabric of their clothes. Somewhere down the street, the horn of an aggravated driver sounds. In the reverberating heart of a city, beating with the lifeblood of its citizens on their daily commute, there is a shared moment of quiet between two officers. The younger sighs out the smoldering contents of his lungs and bumps his shoulder into the other's.

"How've you been?" He asks directly.

"Me?" Harry asks as if there were anyone else the question could be directed at, "fine. Only drank half a bottle."

His brows lower, blinking open his eyes to examine him closer. "Wait - Only? You're drunk?"

"'Course not, do I sound drunk?"

He frowns, pupils flickering back and forth with close inspection. Eventually, he concedes. "No." His expression has hardened considerably, shifting to stare in the opposite direction of his companion and instead at the horizon. A stagnant silence hangs between them.

"It hasn't stopped my work." He huffs. "I'm still filing paperwork, gathering evidence -"

"Forget it. I'm glad you're okay." Suddenly the lieutenant's fingers are on his wrist - again - and he instinctively jerks his body backwards, pulls against his grasp.

The man's dull green eyes are intense, fingers pressing hard into the small amount of skin exposed from under the sleeve of his work coat. His still-lit cigarette is perched in the other hand, flickering yellow in his peripheral. "What happened?" His tone is far from aggressive, yet the sudden drop in octave makes Vincent freeze.

"W-What?" He stammers out.

"You've been avoiding everyone to come out here and smoke, by yourself." As quickly as his demeanor had shifted before, it eases again, lightening his grip on him. "On an old rusty fire escape that barely holds two people."

He shrinks into himself, tries to move further away from his prying gaze.

"What's wrong, Vincent?"

His jaw juts out slightly, swallowing a lump in his throat. "Don't wanna do this now." He eventually mutters, turning his head and refusing eye contact.

"Do what? Talk?" He remains at his side, unflinchingly fixated as he waits for his answer.

A shaky sigh is released, held within his chest for far too long, nicotine burning at his insides. The sensation pushes up and leaks out from the corners of his eyes, hastily rubbing the moisture away. "Broke up with my boyfriend. That's all."

"Oh." The remark is barely audible, a whisper in the wind.

The cracks in his demeanor have crumbled, his entire weight is on the metal now as he shudders out in a sob, "Happy?"

Harry says nothing.

"I-It's - It's all my fault. After that one night, I just … I don't know. Wanted the chance to know you. I shouldn't have - He didn't …" he trails off as he struggles to breathe, hurriedly trying to explain himself between gasps for air.

He pats his arm, slides his palm up to rest on his upper shoulder. Vincent leans into him for support.

"M'sorry." He sniffles, a little clearer now. "I made such a mess of this."

He's vulnerable, emotionally open. Both are acutely aware of it.

Wordlessly, the lieutenant takes a small step closer into the other's personal space, hand fitting comfortably into the crook of his neck as he lifts his chin. With the way he has to stoop down, he must be about half a foot taller than him - the difference evident with their proximity. His mouth moves to say something. Soothing words. Anything. The other's dark eyes stare up into his own, anticipating.

"Don't." He whispers, breath unsteady.

"Why not?" His tone is equally quiet, leaning in over him. Even with barely any contact between them, their bodies readily share heat as they stand closely together under the overhanging clouds - Vincent's cheeks flushing with bright, unmistakable color. "You want this too, don't you?" Closing the distance would take no effort at all.

He declines to answer, biting his lip.

"Please - talk to me." He's practically begging. Desperate for connection.

Finally, he puts an end to the exchange, dipping his chin and pulling himself away. "I - I can't do this now." He puts his own cigarette out on the railing. "And you've been drinking. Should get it out of your system."

"That doesn't mean anything," he protests, "I can think fine." He moves after him.

"Stop, Harry." He speaks sharply, drying the last of his tears and adjusting the collar of his shirt to look presentable. "Let me … I need to think." He retreats further, back against the door. "I just need to think."

He pursues his exit, hand outstretched. Vincent is faster this time, recoiling from his reach and tucking his arm closely to his chest. There's a flash of fear in his expression, there one second and gone the next.

"… I'll call - I'll call you. Okay?" It's more a question than a statement.

"Wait …"

His request goes unheard. Unceremoniously, the steel door closes.

read the rest on AO3 💖

#vvinwork #vvin writes #disco elysium #vincent travart #joakim virtaenen #corin petersen #kenrick faure #heloooo disco fans ... wanna look at my oc ... ahaha ^_^ !!#what if I posted a chapter in the main tag at 1:30 am. what then.

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parabellvvm · 9 months

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🔮 please!!!!

YAY YIPPEEEE THANKS ZAK I dont have much of a backlog yet (planning on it) so here's this fun little excerpt from the current wip chapter >:]

Vincent hesitates, then steps down as well. "A-A Mesque bar?" He chuckles and elbows his arm as he draws closer, "Trying to get us killed, Virtaenen?"

"Relax. I know the owner." There's a hint of a smile on his face for the first time today, yet he won't give it up that easy. He tucks the expression away quickly. "She's nice enough."

"She's nice enough …" he playfully mocks in a sing-song tone, "sure, u-until they find us in some - dumpster." Digging into his pocket, he offers his own horse a half-melted sugar cube.

#zakryah #vvin ocs #vincent travart #joakim virtaenen

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parabellvvm · 1 year

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I keep forgetting to write this down in my notes so while I'm thinking of it. Travart earns the nickname "Omen" among the precinct cause terrible things keep happening to people around him - namely the death of his first work partner, Joakim Virtaenen, but also Crisis' chronic case of getting his shit beat in various ways. it definitely symbolizes Something but idk what yet. need to connect up the tragedies for a bigger picture

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vvindication · 1 year

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WIP FUCKING WEDNESDAY: IM NOT MISSING IT THIS TIME EVEN FOR SURGERY

I dont remember who tagged me uhhhhhh @henbased probably <3 tagging @necro-hamster @nuclearstorms show me your wips when/if you post them >:] mutuals let me know if I should tag you, or even feel free to tag me for writing/art wips, Id love to see them !!

"Well, I wouldn't expect much different." Mr. Petersen claps him on the back, reaching over to one of the tarnished bundles to diligently comb out the damaged stems. "You've been a great help as it is, so thank you officer." He then resettles the bouquet of small white flowers and herbs into place and holds it out to him. "Here - for a loved one of yours. The least I could do." It's placed in his hands before he can even protest.

Joakim's arms are crossed when he's ushered out of the shop, shaking his head at the sight of the gift he'd received. With no hesitation, he turns on his heel and climbs up into the saddle of his patiently awaiting mare. "Seriously, Travart? Can we go one case without you flirting?"

Vincent disregards him with a roll of his eyes, petting his own horse's muzzle before he too is mounted, with the flowers carefully tucked against his chest. "He's not my type."

Their horses fall into place alongside one another as they head back toward the precinct, hooves clicking loudly against the pavement. "Who're you giving them to then, Antonin?" He heckles him, smirking as he looks for his reaction - only for his expression to quickly fall back into a critical squint at his partner's flinch.

"No, of course not." He laughs out, hollow and forced.

#vvinwork #vvin writes #corin petersen #vincent travart #joakim virtaenen #this definitely needs some work and more description but I am under A Lot Of Stress Right Now.#so have this lil blurb as is <3

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parabellvvm · 4 months

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what would you trade the pain for? — THE RANKS OF B WING

more subject to change draft material!

I havent done that much research on police divisions yet (let alone older versions or european versions) but I imagine the B Wing to be the pretty standard "patrol" wing. look for problems, report, take care of them until someone more specialized shows up.

LIEUTENANTS Břetislav "Břeti" Souček (pronounced breh-kyi-slaf) — Senior adult man with short & patchy ginger hair and a thick mustache, discernible by the unusually patterned moles on his face. Grouchy, stubborn, & uncompromising. Often seen getting after Junior Officers for their behavior. Rumored deadbeat and/or absent father.

Patritsiya "Siya" Volkov — Older adult woman with thick & greying black shoulder-length hair. Energetic, determined, & independent. Near workaholic, with the highest amount of closed cases among those of B Wing. Mother to twins, one of which is deceased. Has also outlived her late husband. Yefreitor.

The lieutenants are technically work partners - however, they are rarely seen together, let alone working together. Sometimes they convene for precinct-encompassing issues. Otherwise, they seem to prefer working by themselves or with other lower ranking officers.

SERGEANTS no fucking clue what im doing with this position right now. gotta figure out a couple weirdos to shove here 👍 might introduce an AU character like Nicolas from Fallout or Vance from Cyberpunk. Vance would never be a cop though 💖

PATROL OFFICERS Kirill Heidrich — Young adult man with wild, long blond hair that is usually tied back. Still looks like a teenager, and is often mistaken for one due to his trouble growing facial hair. Has a precinct-wide reputation for being impulsive and violent, especially in the absence of his partner. Spreads conspiracy theories and rumors.

Lucas Orlowski (pronounced luy-ka) — Young adult man with short brown hair that is greying early. Has a few tattoos he likes showing off. Neurotic, put bluntly. Often worrying more about appearance and reputation than actual work - a suitable anchor for Kirill, who actually listens to his concerns. Needs consistent reassurance and isn't afraid to ask for it.

Almost constantly attached at the hip during work hours, sometimes even on time off, Kirill & Lucas have found a strange synergy together that keeps them happy, and the RCM happy. Most consider them to be unhealthily dependent on each other, but it seems to work for them.

Vincent Travart — The one and only. Young adult man with short somewhat spiky black hair and black rectangular glasses. Anxious, curious, compassionate. Looking to fill a void. Partner of Joakim.

Joakim Virtaenen (pronounced yo-ah-keem) — Young adult man with short, dull, light brown hair. Quiet, loyal, discreet. Hopes to prove himself capable to both his peers and superiors by serving the RCM without question. Partner of Vincent.

Sloan Siebert — a huge work in progress. he's certainly here. silly, talkative, tends to steal things.

JUNIOR OFFICERS Gwendoline "Gwen" Aulbert — Teenage girl with black shoulder-length hair, sometimes badly dyed blonde. Has a collection of little scars on her face and arms that she makes up stories for. Headstrong, pushy, snide. Gets away with almost everything due to her uncanny ability in gaining thorough witness testimonies. Hasn't been assigned a partner yet due to her tendency to follow around Kirill & Lucas.

Mikael Wyrzyk (pronounced mee-ka-ehl) — Teenage boy with short & somewhat wavy light brown hair. Needs corrective lenses that he absolutely refuses to wear in public, but will sometimes be seen with when doing paperwork. Confident, optimistic, & calm. Adept at talking others in circles in order to get out of telling anything about himself. Hasn't been assigned a partner yet.

#vvin ocs #im NOT tagging most of these guys theyre very minor to the overall story. just to give it some flavor/structure.#vincent travart #joakim virtaenen #mikael crisis wyrzyk

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parabellvvm · 4 months

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what would you trade the pain for? — TIMELINE

what would you trade the pain for? is supposed to mainly take place about 6 years before the events of Disco Elysium, when Dora packs her things and leaves Revachol and Harry behind, before he and Jean became partners in the RCM, and when he and Vincent officially meet.

the canon is extensive and might be chopped up into multiple fics rather than just under the what would you trade the pain for? (WYTPF ????) umbrella. im not really sure yet!

subject to change etc etc canon events = italicized fics written = purple

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YEAR '40 - The economic boom of the thirties comes to an end following a financial collapse.

YEAR '41 - 10 years ago > Vincent Travart's mother Maria Travart is killed in an unspecified accident. He is begrudgingly adopted by his uncle, Kenrick Faure, as a favor to his deceased mother. > The ficlet "Mother's Name" takes place about here.

YEAR '42 - 9 years ago > Joakim Virtaenen officially joins the RCM at 18 years old despite already serving a few years off and on as a civilian informant on local trafficking.

YEAR '43 - 8 years ago > Vincent joins the RCM at 18 years old at his uncle's insistence to prove himself man enough. Kenrick pays for his training. > Joakim is assigned to be Vincent's partner in the RCM.

YEAR '45 - 6 years ago > Joakim & Vincent find themselves in the right place and time to rescue a politician by the name of Antonin Arcelis, nearly abducted by who appear to be paid thugs. Antonin convinces Vincent to fudge his report, promising him a powerful favor. > Antonin, Vincent, & Joakim enter a dubious relationship. > Joakim breaks up with Antonin and reports his doubts in Vincent directly to Ptolemaios Pryce in an effort to gain his superiors' favor. The pair are barred from promotion and watched with a more careful eye. > Mikael Wyrzyk joins the RCM at 15 years old. > Dora Ingerlund breaks off her engagement with Harry du Bois. > The fic "what would you trade the pain for?" starts here. > Vincent encounters Harry for the first time, who is desperately looking for a way to distract himself. > Vincent breaks up with Antonin and gets into a situationship with Harry soon after.

YEAR '46 - '47 (estimate) - 5-4 years ago > Antonin disappears under mysterious circumstances, rumored to have been abducted. > Joakim is shot and killed during an investigation. Vincent believes his death to be related to Antonin's disappearance, but there is no hard evidence. > Despite the RCM's efforts, Antonin's case (and by extension, Joakim's case) goes cold.

YEAR '48 - 3 years ago > Vincent transfers to C Wing's "Major Crimes Unit" to work alongside Harry. Mikael, inspired, chooses to follow. > Mikael is assigned to be Vincent's partner in the RCM.

YEAR '49 - 2 years ago > Jean Vicquemare is assigned to be Harry's partner in the RCM (estimate). > A fire breaks out, damaging multiple old wooden houses on the edge of the Valley of Dogs. Kenrick is killed in the blaze, destroying the home and forcing Vincent to move into an apartment with very few belongings.

YEAR '51 - current > Harry, Jean, & Judit Minot begin an investigation in Martinaise after the death of a mercenary. Harry is left to complete the investigation and meet up with the Precicnt 57 contact, Kim Kitsuragi, alone. > Harry loses his memory. The game takes place within about a week. > Harry returns to working at Precinct 41. Kim requests his transfer from Precinct 57 to work alongside Harry. > Le Retour is predicted to happen in May by Shivers.

??? (at some point after Martinaise. unknown territory) > Vincent & Mikael are promoted to Sergeants, with Mack Torson & Chester McLaine transferring to another wing. > The case of Antonin's disappearance is reopened when new evidence is stumbled upon. Vincent & Mikael investigate, with the help of Harry & Kim. > Vincent is shot and nearly killed by a hired mercenary, losing an eye in the process. He is dismissed from the RCM due to the apparent disability and long recovery time. Harry & Kim resign from the RCM in turn. > Harry, Kim, & Vincent found their own investigative business.

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BIRTHDATES

Harry du Bois - Year '07 // 38 years old as of '45 Kim Kitsuragi - Year '08 // 37 years old as of '45 Antonin Arcelis - Year '17, February // 28 years old as of '45 Ward - Year '21, January // 24 years old as of '45 // (estimate) Joakim Virtaenen - Year '24, June // 21 years old as of '45 Vincent Travart - Year '25, March // 20 years old as of '45 Mikael Wyrzyk - Year '30, September // 15 years old as of '45

#do I even tag everyone.#vvin ocs #vincent travart #joakim virtaenen #antonin arcelis #mikael crisis wyrzyk

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