#papers please inspector

[skullkandiii]

[sergeantcowboy]

I remembered this papers, please x Beholder fanart I started and then forgot about so I finished it. I'm not a big beholder fan I only like the first game but I really like the style and the games have a similar vibe.

[tobydontknowsh-t]

you are hot like fire object of desire wrap my heart in wire approve my visa please they're gonna kill me

[thenortherngoat832]

PART 1 "M. Vonel" (fem! inspector)

YEEEEAH, I`VE FINISHED IT

[hoodedboy79]

"Next"/Inspector & Calensk

I still believe in Calensk supremacy 🛐

Also this isn't proof read so my bad for any mistakes.

=========

Repetitive.

That was the only word that came to the Inspector's mind as he continued checking passports, stamping documents, and listening to the same tired excuses, threats, and desperate pleas.

Some begged, others got too personal, spilling their misfortunes to a stranger who had neither the power nor the will to help them. A few tried intimidation, but most just pleaded, hoping he’d ignore the discrepancies that would have them detained.

It was a monotonous job.

"Good morning."

Startled, the Inspector looked up at the gruff voice.

Calensk stood at the booth’s entrance, his expression as hardened and indifferent as ever. A hastily rolled cigarette dangled between his fingers, but before stepping inside, he flicked it into the snow.

Before the Inspector could return the greeting, Calensk reached into his pocket and placed something on the counter.

A single 5-credit note.

"You detained five people. Well done," he said, nodding, his mouth curling up just slightly—almost impressed.

He promised 10 credits last time.

"This is not enough."

"Yes, I know."

Calensk sighed, hesitating for a moment before continuing.

"My wife sick now. Neighbor spreads the flu." He gestured toward the note. "This is what is left after medicine."

A pause.

"I give you rest next time. Maybe you detain more people to make it easier," he added with a listless shrug before stalking off back to his post.

The Inspector pocketed the note without a word.

"Next."

---

The snow thickened as the Inspector trudged to work, his boots sinking with each step. The cold wasn’t just biting—it seeped into his bones.

Arstotzka was always cold, but today felt worse.

His house wasn't much warmer. Thin blankets barely helped, and his family huddled together at night for warmth, but it was never enough. With winter rolling in, they would have to turn the heat on soon, but they couldn't afford it. His son had already spent too many nights shivering.

That was why he forced himself out the door every morning.

That, and the man leaning against his booth.

"Morning," the Inspector muttered as he unlocked the door, stepping inside.

Calensk followed, closing the door behind them.

"You look tired," he observed as the Inspector slumped into his chair.

"Son was sick again. Kept us up during the night."

Calensk hummed in acknowledgment, eyes scanning the Inspector’s weary face. This wasn’t the first time he’d heard about the boy’s illness.

"The cold gets to him easy. The lack of food doesn’t help." The Inspector exhaled sharply, looking away. "My wife and her mother try to keep him warm, try to keep him from catching anything from the neighbors, but it hasn’t worked."

Calensk didn’t respond right away. He knew medicine was expensive. Too expensive. It was why he’d turned to certain… alternatives to make extra money. And he could see the toll it was taking on the Inspector, too.

Before he could say anything, the checkpoint alarm blared, signaling the start of the workday.

"You should get to your post," the Inspector said, voice lighter now. "Boss will have your head if he notices you're not."

Calensk scoffed, unbothered by the thinly veiled threat. Without another word, he stepped outside.

The Inspector pressed the buzzer.

"Next."

"Entry is not guaranteed."

"Next."

"Please have your papers ready."

More people came through. More were turned away. As usual, curses and insults were hurled his way.

A typical day.

Another buzzer press. Another hopeful face.

This one was different.

A rough-looking man strode in, his posture skittish but his steps confident.

Before the Inspector could ask for his documents, something was shoved into his hands.

"DEATH TO ARSTOTZKA!"

The man bolted back into Kolechia.

The Inspector barely had time to process what had just happened.

Then he heard it.

Ticking.

His eyes snapped to the box on his desk. His breath caught in his throat.

"What is going on?"

Calensk’s voice cut through the moment.

The Inspector turned, panic barely concealed. Calensk followed his gaze—then scoffed.

"Oh. Hah."

"What is this amateur shit?"

He stepped closer, peering down at the bomb like it was an insult rather than a threat.

"Should we evacuate?" the Inspector asked.

"For that little thing? No, of course not."

"Just disable it. Open the cover."

The Inspector hesitated, but did as he was told. His hands trembled slightly as he removed the panel.

"Stupid fucking terrorists," Calensk muttered, unimpressed. "Could not even add a display."

The Inspector glanced at him. "How do you know so much about bombs?"

Calensk ignored the question.

"This is the poorest bomb I ever seen. A simple mind created this."

He pulled a pair of pliers from his coat and shoved them through the paper slot.

"Just cut the wires in order."

With unsteady hands, the Inspector followed his instructions. One by one, the wires snapped.

Then—silence.

The ticking stopped.

The Inspector let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding.

"Ok. All done—back to work."

"We should close the checkpoint."

"Bullshit. I need to earn money today."

The unspoken 'So do you' lingered between them.

"Give bomb to me."

The Inspector blinked. "What?"

"I sell materials and give you a cut."

A pause. Then, wordlessly, the Inspector slid the bomb forward. Calensk grabbed it, tucking it under his jacket.

"What a piece of shit," he muttered, mostly to himself. "Doubt it’s even worth much."

He turned to leave.

"Call the next immigrant."

"Next."

---

"Inspector."

Calensk always had a habit of appearing without warning.

The Inspector barely looked up from the disorganized stack of papers in front of him.

"What now, Calensk?"

A brown paper bag landed on his desk.

"Here."

The Inspector finally glanced up, eyes narrowing. "What is this?"

"Food. From my wife. Bread and lard. She made extra." Calensk hesitated, then added, "For your son. Good for colds."

The Inspector stared at the bag.

Gratitude felt foreign these days. Like a muscle he hadn’t used in years.

"Thank you." His voice was quiet. Sincere.

Calensk waved it off. "You look worse than usual."

The Inspector huffed a tired chuckle. "You’re full of advice today."

"Somebody has to be."

The radio crackled. A voice barked out orders: a Kolechian diplomat was expected soon.

Calensk scowled. "Diplomats. Pieces of shit. Always think they’re better than the rest of us."

The Inspector smirked faintly in agreement.

Calensk turned to leave, but the Inspector called after him.

"Be careful with that… thing you took earlier."

Calensk glanced back, smirking. "Don’t worry about me, Inspector. Worry about your lines."

Then he was gone, his boots crunching in the snow.

The Inspector shook his head, returning to his work.

As he pressed his stamp onto the next document, he realized something.

For the first time in a long while, he didn’t feel entirely alone.

"Next."

========

I'm starting to get writer's block again and just losing motivation in general, but I might write a part 2 to this if anyone wants it before I fall off the face of the earth for another 3 months 💀

Hope this was decent!

[z0mbiebitchb0y]

This is so fucking dumb I love it

[nikovsky]

so , yeah , I just came to leave the drawings I've made about the game , I love the inspector so much !

he's my pookie :3 ( this is a redraw , the drawing below is too old )

[duckstuff2008]

DETAINED!!

I just played this more-than-a-decade-old game and on golly I love Calensk and Inspector sm.

Also, just finished the Return of the Obra Dinn as well! The last pic is how I imagine the player on the Obra Dinn hehe

Edit: Btw! I'm open to Q&As! Would love to interact with the community :]

[skarxk]

[ryunumber]

Inspector from Papers, Please

The inspector does not have a Ryu Number.

[sweetyart]

On a smoke break

[swanno-arts]

hi my 2 (two) (?) other vonector shippers

[sergeantcowboy]

Papers, please fanart? In the year of our lord 2025?? It's more likely than you think.

Anyways, here's my interpretation of how I think the inspector looks. I tried to make him different from the short movie version but it's impossible, the casting was too spot on, in my head he's just clearly some semi tall skinny pale guy with dark hair and a prominent nose. (I'm going to ignore the family photo you see in game, when I think of bureaucrats I think "clean shaven")

I also gave him scars because he's clearly familiar with guns and a good shot so I decided he has a bit of a war background.

[momokat]

Inktober 2024 Day 7 "Passport" POV: You're Jorji Costava

[thenortherngoat832]

just silly sketch >< he is my love aoaooaoa

talking with this bitch - my loveliest part of game

maybe i will draw smth more with him hehe

[hoodedboy79]

"Next" Inspector & Calensk Pt.2

Finally got around to making a part 2. Honestly I had fun writing this so maybe I'll continue it eventually if I can think of where to go with it.

Also not proof read, so apologies for any mistakes again.

===========

The morning was bleak. The cold gnawed at the Inspector’s fingers as he flipped through passport pages, his mind as numb as his hands.

Stamp. Denied.

Stamp. Approved.

Stamp. Detained.

The cycle continued.

He barely registered the sound of approaching boots until a familiar voice broke the monotony.

"Morning, Inspector."

Calensk.

The Inspector didn’t look up immediately, finishing the document in front of him. When he did, Calensk was standing at the edge of the booth, hands shoved into his coat pockets, a cigarette hanging loosely from his lips.

"You always show up unannounced," the Inspector muttered, not unkindly.

Calensk exhaled a puff of smoke and smirked. "Maybe I like surprising you."

The Inspector let out a quiet huff, shaking his head.

A small silence stretched between them, the kind that wasn’t entirely uncomfortable. Then, without preamble, Calensk reached into his pocket and placed something on the counter.

The Inspector glanced down.

A single 10-credit note.

"You detained ten people," Calensk said simply. "Good work."

The Inspector picked up the note, running his thumb over the worn paper. "That many?"

Calensk shrugged. "People get desperate in the winter. Makes our job easier."

The Inspector pocketed the money and leaned back in his chair. "And your wife? She is better?"

A flicker of something unreadable crossed Calensk’s face. He tapped the ash from his cigarette before answering.

"She is managing." A pause. "Yours?"

The Inspector hesitated. He could feel Calensk watching him, waiting.

"She does what she can," he finally admitted. "For our son. For her mother. For me."

Calensk nodded slightly, as if he understood something that hadn’t been said.

The checkpoint alarm blared.

The moment was gone.

"You should get to your post," the Inspector said, adjusting his chair.

Calensk smirked, the expression faint but there. "Always sending me away, Inspector."

The Inspector didn’t respond, but he didn’t look away either.

Calensk let out a quiet chuckle before turning on his heel, disappearing into the cold.

The Inspector pressed the buzzer.

"Next."

---

The hours passed in a blur.

One Kolechian diplomat tried to bribe him. He refused.

One mother pleaded to see her children. He hesitated. Then denied her.

One man cursed him, spat at his booth. A gun smacked into his temple shortly after.

Another stamp. Another decision.

At some point, the day faded into evening.

His back ached. His fingers felt stiff. He reached under his desk for his coat, ready to leave, when a familiar voice stopped him.

"Wait."

He turned.

Calensk was back.

The Inspector raised an eyebrow. "Forget something?"

Calensk didn’t answer immediately. He pulled a small tin from his pocket, shaking out a cigarette before lighting it.

"You walk home, yes?"

The Inspector frowned. "Yes."

Calensk exhaled smoke, looking at him for a moment before speaking again.

"Then I walk with you."

The Inspector blinked. "Why?"

Calensk took another drag, then smirked, the expression laced with something that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

"Maybe I like surprising you."

The Inspector let out a quiet laugh, shaking his head. But he didn’t say no.

They walked in silence, boots crunching against the snow. The air was sharp, their breath visible in the dim light of streetlamps.

The Inspector kept his hands deep in his coat pockets, his body hunched against the cold.

Beside him, Calensk walked with that same indifferent stride, cigarette glowing faintly in the dark.

For a long time, neither of them spoke.

Then, almost too quietly, Calensk said, "Your son. He will be fine."

The Inspector glanced at him.

Calensk didn’t look back.

For the first time that day, the Inspector felt something unfamiliar settle in his chest.

Something dangerously close to warmth.

They walked in silence, the cold pressing against them like an unrelenting weight. The streets were nearly empty, save for the occasional silhouette of another worker trudging home. Arstotzka was not a city that welcomed loitering.

The Inspector exhaled slowly, his breath curling in the frigid air. "I didn't realize you cared so much about my son."

Calensk scoffed, flicking the cigarette away. "I don't."

The Inspector glanced at him, unimpressed.

Calensk rolled his shoulders, his gaze fixed straight ahead. "Sick children are bad for work. If you are tired, you make mistakes. If you make mistakes, people get through who should not. Then I must clean up your mess."

The excuse was thin. Too thin.

The Inspector hummed, unconvinced. "Ah. Of course."

A tense pause. Then Calensk huffed, shaking his head. "Do not read into it, Inspector. It is not personal."

"Of course not," the Inspector said, his voice carefully neutral.

They continued walking, the rhythmic crunch of their boots filling the void of conversation. The checkpoint loomed behind them, a place where duty ruled and everything—everything—had to be impersonal.

But here, in the frozen quiet of the city, things blurred. The lines that separated duty from something more became harder to define.

Calensk suddenly stopped in front of an alley, reaching into his coat. The Inspector tensed out of instinct before Calensk pulled out a small, wrapped bundle.

He shoved it into the Inspector’s hands.

The Inspector looked down at it. The weight was familiar. A loaf of bread. Wrapped in old newspaper, the ink smudged from the cold.

"From my wife," Calensk muttered, eyes darting away. "Again."

The Inspector frowned. "I can’t keep—"

"Take it," Calensk snapped. Then, quieter, "She will not stop sending it. It is easier if you take it."

The Inspector hesitated for a moment, then nodded. "Tell her thank you."

Calensk’s jaw tightened, but he gave a small nod. "She does not know it is for you."

The Inspector blinked.

"She thinks I have extra shifts. That I eat at work," Calensk continued, voice gruff. "It is better this way."

A strange, quiet tension settled between them.

The Inspector felt the rough edges of the paper beneath his fingers, the warmth of the bread still lingering despite the cold. It was too much. But he would take it anyway.

He had to.

Calensk took a step back, adjusting his coat. "I will walk you no further."

The Inspector nodded. "You have a long way back."

Calensk’s lips quirked into something that wasn’t quite a smile. "And you do not?"

The Inspector didn’t answer.

Calensk held his gaze for a moment longer before turning on his heel.

The Inspector watched him go, his figure disappearing into the dim glow of streetlights.

Then, with a deep breath, he tightened his grip on the bread and continued walking.

---

The next morning, the Inspector arrived at the checkpoint early.

The cold was worse today. The frost clung to his booth’s window, thick and stubborn. He rubbed at the glass, trying to clear it, but the frost refused to fully fade.

He sighed, settling into his chair.

"Morning."

The Inspector barely had time to register the voice before Calensk appeared at the booth, a fresh cigarette between his lips.

The Inspector huffed. "I should start charging you for these visits."

Calensk smirked. "And yet, you never do."

The Inspector shook his head, pulling out the day's paperwork. "What is it this time?"

Calensk leaned against the counter, tapping ash onto the ground. "A man will come through today. Do not detain him."

The Inspector stilled. "Why?"

Calensk didn’t answer.

"Calensk."

Still, silence.

The Inspector’s grip on his stamp tightened. "If he’s a Kolechian agent—"

"He is not," Calensk interrupted. "And you ask too many questions."

The Inspector stared at him, trying to read whatever was hidden behind that hardened expression.

Calensk finally sighed. "He is…a friend. He has done things for me. You understand?"

The Inspector did. All too well.

He exhaled slowly. "You are asking me to risk my job."

"I am telling you to," Calensk corrected. "You can always say you did not see the discrepancy. Or maybe you were…tired."

The Inspector’s jaw clenched. "That would be careless."

"Yes," Calensk agreed. "But then again, you are only human, yes?"

Their eyes met.

A challenge. A test.

A quiet understanding.

The Inspector finally sighed. "This man—he will have papers?"

"Yes. Good ones. But you will find something, if you look too close."

The Inspector pressed his fingers to his temple. "You are going to be the reason I get executed one day."

Calensk smirked, pushing away from the booth. "Then at least I will not be bored."

And with that, he was gone.

The Inspector exhaled sharply, staring down at his desk.

He pressed the buzzer.

"Next."

==========

Hope this was decent!

Ao3: Hoodedboy79