Missilestorm
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SHIVERS: A cold wind whips across Grand Couron, barreling into southern Jamrock, rattling the plastic Frittte sign above your head, pulling the city’s nightly odors and sounds with it. Exhaust fumes, spilled beer. The sterile, unrelenting fluorescent hum of the Southern Jamrock Clinic, three blocks away. Inside, a plump receptionist turns the deadbolt on the glass front door. In the back office, a man slides a key into a heavy metal filing cabinet, grabs his bag, and turns out the lights.
They are gone.
Harry stares at the street leading back to the clinic.
PHYSICAL INSTRUMENT: Stop trying to pussy out. This isn’t about just you, anymore. Pull on the string. See where it leads. You are an RCM lieutenant double-yefreitor of the 41st precinct. This is what you do. This is who you are.
AUTHORITY: You have an investigation to conduct.Series
- Part 2 of The Infra-Materialism of Physicality
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Harry ducks into the Whirling-in-Rags bathroom, locks the door, and sits on the closed toilet. He takes the pill bottle out again.
LOGIC: Problem, detective. There is precisely one pill left. Which leaves you two to three days before a potential medical emergency.
VISUAL CALCULUS: The date of the prescription is February 15th, ’51. It is March 12th, ’51. If you took the pill every odd numbered day in February and every even numbered day in March, that would mean that you, while blitzed out of your fucking mind, were still taking them diligently enough to be right on schedule for a mid-month prescription fill.
PERCEPTION: This mattered to you. A lot.OR
Harry forgets the fundamentals of basic reality, and finds one more mystery along with all the others: Lymbo-Hormonal Inhibitors in his pocket. There is only one pill left.
Series
- Part 1 of The Infra-Materialism of Physicality
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HALF LIGHT: But they didn’t just drop you off, Harry. They left you to see if you’d swim, or if your engine would finally, mercifully seize up. They’re waiting for you to break.
ESPRIT DE CORPS: Kim is not waiting for you to break. Jean…
PERCEPTION: It’s not so much malice, as exhaustion. You’ve exhausted him.
HALF LIGHT: You’ll exhaust Kim, too. You always do.
PHYSICAL INSTRUMENT: Come on, seriously?! It’s just a mess. You’ve cleaned up messes before. We can make this apartment look like it never happened.
PAIN THRESHOLD: Wait, that’s not entirely—
Harry gets up, grabs a trash bag, sets his teeth, and gets to work.OR
With Kim’s transfer delayed and the 41st precinct’s bar for Harry firmly at the level of “occasionally on time”, Harry is left alone to deal with his disastrous apartment.
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The tub cracked, the sound echoing in the bathroom. Mirabel flinched, recoiling in horror. They’d barely moved back in—why was Casita cracking again? She reached out a hand to trace it and it widened, spreading into the base of the tub. She jumped up and stared at her fingers, pulse racing.
She looked to the cabinet. “Was it me, all along?” she mouthed.
Casita seemed feverish and shook the cabinet with a resounding no.
Tears formed in Mirabel's eyes. “Casita…” she whispered. Was this supposed to be a gift? -
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Rook made a habit of seeing Lucanis last on his rounds, in hopes of some kind of indication of interest in providing some…help with his straying thoughts in his own room afterwards, to no avail. At nights, or whatever mimicked nights in the Lighthouse, Rook would close his eyes and furtively fist himself to thoughts of hands pushing him to his knees.
After another afternoon of honeyed implication and a night of fitful sleep cut short by wet, tented trousers, Rook broke, donned his clothes, and left his room in search of Lucanis.
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- 28,512
- Works:
- 2
- Bookmarks:
- 2
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Kim adjusts his glasses. "Begging to get fucked in the back seat of a Coupris Kineema is not praxis, Detective."
You pull out your best, most persuasive eyebrow waggle; "Hey, it could be."Or; the one where they fuck in the Kineema.
Bookmarked by Missilestorm
26 Jun 2026
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You’re both extremely drunk the first time it happens.
The same with the second, third, fourth, fifth, sixth, seventh, and eighth times.YOU: Why does this keep happening?
HALF LIGHT: Because it’s scary to do it sober.
YOU: For Kim, too?
COMPOSURE: Sure. But for different reasons. The lieutenant is tightly repressed. Imagine all that longing crammed into his 167 cm - 10 stone frame. It is unspeakable.
CONCEPTUALIZATION: It’s tangled in there so tight he can’t even pull it out and go through it. It’s all just…there.
YOU: Doesn’t that hurt?
PAIN THRESHOLD: Immensely.Bookmarked by Missilestorm
27 Mar 2026
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After brief but intense Pale exposure, Kim Kitsuragi decides to spend some quality time with his Kineema. A few wires concerning reality are crossed.
Bookmarked by Missilestorm
02 May 2026
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Disco Elysium OT3, Harry/Kim/Jean with palefuckery and feels.
- Words:
- 43,156
- Works:
- 2
- Bookmarks:
- 23
Bookmarked by Missilestorm
02 May 2026
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Harry's life with the Dursleys has never been ideal. He's learned to accept that. Sirius doesn't think he should have to.
Series
- Part 1 of Dead Men Don't Bleed
Bookmarked by Missilestorm
11 Jul 2023