#kamipyre

[kagoshou]

"sir! how are you feeling today?"

“hmm.” he doesn’t look up from the contents of his cup; let’s the black liquid swirl along its rim instead with a practiced bob of his wrist. the lax smile on his lips would greet him right back ... if not for three glimmering scars usurping everything else in sight atop this bottomless ocean.

“right now ... you could say i'm swimming with a school of  anchovies," 'feeling' is a loaded word. 'today' a concept defined solely by humanity's craving for some type of order in this unruly world. an effort as futile as it is necessary ... much like most other things in life. “... ever keen on reaching southern shores all while knowing that it might be the end of me."

[bloodxhound]

my favorite paper folding fiend / @kamipyre ♡

[lupinoire]

     𝐀 𝐌𝐔𝐑𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐑 𝐖𝐈𝐋𝐋 𝐑𝐄𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐍 𝐓𝐎 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐂𝐄𝐍𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐂𝐑𝐈𝐌𝐄, a tried and true cliché, yet no one would suspect the man who’s currently crossing the yellow tape, for he’s equipped with a badge and a solemn, dutiful mien all truly righteous investigators wear. He strides down the hallway of a small downtown apartment, heading for the living room. The view inside fills him with neither pride nor horror, just the slightest touch of something he cannot name. He likes to think it’s trepidation. That’s okay. In its grip, he will remain ever wary, cautious, observing himself as though he were an outsider assessing a performance for its believability. For a moment, he studies his co-worker with that same remoteness. He doesn’t know her. Introductions are yet to be made.

     She appears forlorn, hovering near the victim, on the verge of commencing her duty. To her feet lies the Director of Forensics, face down, unmoving and lifeless, yet not sporting any obvious injuries. His living room is a mess. Personal belongings are strewn about the parquet, spilled from cabinets, drawers, shelves — any place that could reasonably hold valuables. The picture of what appears to be a burglary gone wrong.

     ❛❛ This job has a real knack for numbing you to these awful sights, doesn’t it? I can’t count how many dead bodies I’ve encountered anymore. ❜❜   His voice arrives before he catches up to her side. His head is bowed, gaze half-lidded, one hand locked around his other arm’s wrist. A respectful stance, perfectly mournful, perfectly practiced. A choreographed performance for her alone.   ❛❛ But seeing a colleague like this? That’s a whole different beast. ❜❜   He allows a moment to pass before his head turns to her, brows knit together apologetically.  ❛❛ Ah, sorry. I’m rambling. I’m still in shock myself. What a terrible loss. ❜❜   There’s an ounce of truth to the sentiment he’s shared. The Director was a good man, and like all good men doomed to a terrible end.   ❛❛ I’m Detective Raymond Barlowe. I don’t think we’ve met before. I take it you’re a new arrival? ❜❜

› @kamipyre, plotted starter

[legalbrats]

@kamipyre's got a new subordinate!

Ema was on her way to the forensic department. It was a familiar route. One she had known since she was a teenager. One she had walked a million times for her job as a detective. But, for the first time, the path was leading her to her dream becoming reality. For the first time in years, Ema had a skip to her step and a giant smile on her face. She even warmly greeted the faces that she would have loathed to see just last week.

What finally getting the dream job did to a woman...

She giggled to herself at the thought, scaring yet another person she happened to pass. People had been avoiding this oddity. Some whispered to the other that Ema must have finally lost her mind.

Maybe she had. Maybe it was all a hallucination, too good to be true. 

But as she pushed the door open, the cold metal on her warm skin, she had no doubt. It was real. She was finally living the dream.

She took a moment to really breathe it in. To enjoy it. To linger in the feeling of belonging.

She felt like a movie princess. She wanted to sing.

She sighed. And marched forward in search of the person destined to be her supervisor from now on.

Oh lord, no more stupid ‘macho’ police officers to look out for. No more stupid glimmerous prosecutors to pull on the leash connected to her badge.

“Good morning!” she greeted a little too loudly when she saw the scar dressed person the HR had described to her. She even saluted out of habit. “I’m Ema Skye! I’m sure you’ve seen me around whenever I’ve come for the forensic results as a detective. But today I’m transferring to your department! Pleased to finally work with you!” She offered a handshake with the same hand she had saluted.

[ptternminds]

@kamipyre | 'cus i'm a suki adorer first, person second

"Not to make statements that might arise some... suspicions with aids of the local law enforcement," Patrick starts with all the guilt of a person who very much intends being suspicious, even if only to drag some amusement out of the situation, as he barely avoids smiling with a twitch of his lips, and even then a corner of his mouth succumbs to it.

Considering the stark difference in age, you'd think he wouldn't be the one trying to act cheeky.

But if there's one thing he's learned about Nakamura Suki - other than details of her past he now regrets trying to look into - is that his having the time and lack of ambition to waste in these mindsets is a luxury he can take, whereas hers is a life worth being serious about, within the frame of a certain sense of alive he still admires her for.

You'd think someone like her would have gone mad by now.

"But someone owes me a favour," and if he looks sort of expectant, sort of proud, while he avoids looking at her directly and instead stares up at the museum façade towering before them, he's more human than he recalls. "And if you want to stay after hours and have a look around without any limitations, you can do that. It would be perfectly legal, mind you. I am obligated to mention that you cannot steal or break anything."

He turns his head to regard her with a completely unbothered expression. "Or get caught doing so, rather."

[geniusimogene]

{ @kamipyre }

It's...good to be back. Sure, vacation was nice and all, but most of the time she just kept thinking about all the work that must have been piling up back at the precinct...

She's right back in her element though, and even seems a little bit more cheerful? Maybe she needed that break more than she thought.

But she's actually smiling more and greeting familiar faces as she passes them by!

"Oh-! Good...good morning, Miss Suki..!"

[kataskopeia]

@kamipyre continued from here.

"... i made mine when he was still alive." he steps toward the lifeless body, suffocates the pitiful remainder of his smoldering cigarette in a dull pocket ashtray, and slides gloves over his hands. "but generally speaking ... if you're the first to sign up for an engagement post-mortem, you should be the one to print the queue list and attach it to the morgue slab." long fingers flex underneath latex before diving into the dead man's mouth to forcefully remove a gleaming molar tooth ( muffled cracking noise included ). "paper has performative power. you should give it a try and see how many people are willing to stand in line."

[edgelord-dl6]

@kamipyre asked: It's sudden and fast, but when there's only the two of them in the hallway, Suki tugs him by the frills to her height and gives him a kiss. A moment later, she takes a step back, both hands wrapped around the evidence file. "...I'll meet you at the crime scene, sir." ( 2day is international kissing day so edgeworth, please take a kiss from suki sjfklsjdfklj <3 )

it's a miracle this kind of thing isn't exploited more often - his big frilly ostentatious cravat hangs there just before one of the most vulnerable points on the human body, like a great target. to most people, perhaps, it's like the ornament of some poisonous animal - so colorful and obvious and ridiculous that it simply must mean 'stay away!'

but to Suki - wonderful, surprising, resourceful, Suki Nakamura - it's a tool to send him a message that short circuits his brain. their lips press together with quick insistence, and Miles' eyes pop open unromantically. his heart nearly pops, too, and all he can do is nod dumbly after her, clear his throat, absently pass his tongue over his bottom lip...

was today a special occasion or something? he'll wrack his brain over it en route.