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"I'm Dorothy Gale from Kansas"
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@kamipyre
“when the wind is strong enough, even a paper crane can fly away from the flames.”
selective ace attorney oc. mutuals only. 21+ mun. i do not own any of the art/icons on this blog. please read guidelines first!
guidelines. about. verses. nav.
affiliated with @bloodxhound.
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You would do what with wasabi? 🤨
he's a liar ( unprompted w/ @bloodxhound )
"I ONLY DID IT ONCE!" Regret is what Suki feels next as the look of skepticism deepens on Ray's face. And there is panic- he'll never drop it if she doesn't fix it immediately and word travels fast in the LAPD. "I ran out of nose drops, there wasn't anything else I could use!"
If it works with taste buds, why wouldn't work with smelling buds? Suki must be a genius. "It really works! Sniffing wasabi can clear your nose, especially if it's the real stuff!"
what do ppl think of a divorce lawyer oc
———— 🖤┊ VIVID IS THE SCENE playing from fresh mental film: her first ( and last ) time taking public transportation, where hesitant tugs of yellow cord manifested in missed stops, pulling her further from civilization, armed with only a dying phone. like clockwork, her thumb jabs the side power button of her cell, verifying how much battery yet lived. even donning heels, she'd rather walk, though reason preferred the alternative. ❝ suuurrreee... ❞ she drawls, fingerpads gliding along the raising hairs at neck's nape. ❝ you know the address and what stop we'd take, yeah? ❞
yin! ➜ EMOTIONAL TACTFULNESS IS NOT HER FORTE. It will be skill that Suki picks up later on- and even then it will forever be a work-in-progress. "Of course! I've been there hundreds of times." An exaggeration, but the point still remains. "It'll be just a fifteen minute ride- we'll be there before you know it! The bus stop's a five minute walk anyways!" The bus arrives a few minutes following their arrival, to which Suki pays the fare. "Do you want to sit? I can stand!"
𝐇𝐄 𝐅𝐑𝐄𝐄𝐙𝐄𝐒, then recoils from her as though he has pried his fingers into a power outlet and suffered a zap. ❛❛ Absolutely not! ❜❜ A hiss surges past teeth bared in a grimace. ❛❛ I ain’t tryin’ anythin’! Just gave you the first two options that came to mind. ❜❜ Though why exactly this has been one of his initial ideas might be better left unpondered.
He recovers swiftly from his outburst, relaxing his stance and allowing an obnoxiously complacent smile to take over his expression. ❛❛ Tch. You won’t ever catch me flirtin’ with him. He’d immediately fall in love. While I can’t fault him for that, I’m a free spirit. I’d only break his heart. ❜❜
ray! ➜ IF THERE IS ANY SKEPTICISM ON HER PART, IT IS LIKE AN AIR BUBBLE: ONE MOMENT THERE AND THEN NOT AT ALL. It's not like Ray is the only one to has to have a reason to say something. She does things without any particularly good reason too- like how she always insist on putting her right shoe on first and then her left shoe.
"Mister Godot doesn't seem like the kind of person to fall in love at first sight..." Or one to stew in heartbreak, maybe. "But he won't tell me anything about his love life! Why would he tell me about how he wants to be woed? And besides, if you did break his heart, he'd probably something like, 'coffee and heartbreak are one and the same- best served hot. And bitter!'"
Ema watched the paper cherry flowers land in her bin. She quickly abandoned her attempts to hide her horror as Forensic Nakamura continued to speak. Wide-eyed, she looked up at her superior. She couldn't have meant that Ema had to also fold her finished work the same way... could she?!
For the fear of sounding stupid, Ema left the question unasked and followed Miss Nakamura silent and obedient.
'This is still better than being a police officer', she reminded herself, trying to focus on the bright future instead of the annoying past.
However, the thought echoed with her supervisor's words about the path switching.
"Ugh." For the first time in the presence of Forensic Nakamura, Ema frowned. She even rolled her eyes. "I never even wanted to become a detective, but it was the closest thing to here while I worked on my test results. I'll do anything to avoid going back. Forensic science is my calling, not..." She sighed. You weren't supposed to speak badly of your previous place of work. "So, um." Ema straightened her posture and looked Miss Nakamura in the eyes, determined. "I'm ready to for anything and everything! I'll make sure to make you proud!"
skye. ➜ HOW MANY TIMES HAD SHE BEEN TOLD OVER THE YEARS TO CONSIDER ANOTHER PATH? There's have been art teachers who have said she's has so much potential as an artist, why waste it in another field? Why go into a specialized field with only so many positions to go around in a field where she will most likely have to fight tooth and nail for even half the amount of respect her male colleagues will naturally accrue?
She wonders if Miss Skye has ever even been aware of such issues- her sister must have known at least within her own field. The female prosecutors, even more so than their male counterparts, always did have some kind of a bite to him. It's not that much different within the forensic department.
Nakamura, no Suki, never thought she herself would need such when she started out, but she is now, eight years later. No teeth, not really, but a sharpened beak for sure. It's her job now, to make sure Miss Skye develops the same.
Now's a better time than ever to start training a disciple.
"I see," Nakamura says with no comment to the enthusiasm. It's better to keep it, she supposes, than for someone to extinguish it early on- the department needs all the help it can get, anyways. "Answer me this then- why do you want to become a forensics? Like you've said, it's perfectly possible to be in a parallel path as a detective. Honestly it might be easier to become one in comparison to a forensics." She raises a brow. "So why this path, Miss Skye?"
The arts compel him. Mostly because few other things are worth the long-lasting impressions and effect they usually come with.
War. Violence. Pain. Cycles of vengeance and death. His oldest companions, be it directly upon his skin, or witnessed from afar. Good intentions smothered. Power handed to the wrong people. And those that pretend to be right far too inclined to turn their back on those that need their attention.
It's always about the children, but it's never about the children.
He turns the crane around, carefully held between his fingers. The smile he offers as he regards it is an idea of one, but he doesn't look as mournful as he's made himself look before. He can grief with remnants of love and highlight those. He can focus on her.
The better question is what made her join. He understands why many leave. He understands why certain kinds of men dream of the day they get to wear a uniform and something deadly they should have never invented. But why would someone smart and careful like her want to be subservient to whims akin to those he served?
Ah. He's letting his impression of her get ahead of him.
"My principles no longer aligned with those of the people above me," to put it simply. A corrupt, deafened king. His death was an act of rebellion, however useless.
Maybe there's an act of rebellion in her as well? Survival often is. And believing in doing the right thing.
"Are you satisfied with your current position? Or do you plan on climbing that famed ladder?"
(bitter) old man. ➜ IF SHE HAD IT HER WAY, SHE WOULD'VE STAYED AT THE BOTTOM OF THE LADDER. She's never been one to take on positions of authority let alone ones of figureheads. If she could, she would have spent the rest of her life in the same lab, the same office folding processing the paperwork like she had been taught.
Alas, change is inevitable and with the sudden...restructuring not only within the office but in her own life, staying in the same position wasn't possible. Not if preserving what was most important was the main priority. Now that Suki thinks about it, her reason for climbing up the ladder is the same for the reason the old man has claimed for leaving the very same system behind.
The old man who carries himself as much older than actual old men. But then again, age is only a number in the face of human experiences. Some of them age in the face of human tragedy; others regress, keep their youth. She's seen both ends of the spectrum. She can only imagine what he saw on the force then that would push him to withdraw.
It's probably not that much different from the evidence she gathers. Or the superiors she must answer to.
"I had to," she says. Matter-of-fact, no indication of distaste or inclination. "Or someone worse would have taken it." Well, maybe not, but that had been the plan at the time- work her way up the ladder until she had enough influence within the department. And then when the moment struck, reining in the forensics would be a matter of clockwork, not will. "Any higher and all I'll just get dumped with more responsibilities- it's annoying."
Sans a few exceptions of course, but there are other ways to deal with those anomalies. Absentmindedly her hand turns. Makes another crane pop into existence. "What do you now then, if you're not in the field anymore?"
familiar names only cast shadows upon once bright blue eyes. lids slam taut, anticipating the inevitable reprimand requested of him ( not that it hadn't been earned, but that he had to deal with subsequent subordinate whining ).
❝ i see, ❞ he mumbles, exhaustion weaved into subdued intrigue while closed eyes contradict his claim. ❝ i applaud your tenacity. ❞ if nothing else, he could appreciate that, isolated from the inevitable work concocted for him. with no option other than answer, the pressure piled upon lids unwilling to open lessens as desperate dismissal rolls over into contemplation. ❝ hm... ❞
admittedly, he wasn't the right person to ask. not only was there conflict of interest, but he loathed microwaved meals. how shoddy styrofoam cups reliably boiled over, how broth caked and crusted the turntable as lazy cleaning culminated as a simple paper towel left to soak overly saturated liquid, how splatters of over cooked side dishes sullied the sides of the oven, half - hearted scrapes leaving chalk outlines of the crime.
finally, defeated blues peek from beneath tired brows. ❝ detective krauser, ❞ he relinquishes with a sniff. ❝ he's always got stains on his shirt, typically 'round the collar, scattered, speckled, an' small. probably slurping noodles. i can't quite confirm the lobster, though. ❞
sir. ➜ SHE MAY NOT BE A DETECTIVE, BUT TENACITY FOR FINDING THE CULPRIT HAS NEVER EXCLUSIVE TO ONE CAREER PATH. At the core of every person in this field, there must be a desire to hunt the prey. Or in Suki's case, track them down. Inspector Serrano knows it and should not be surprised in the very least. Either way, her determination is resolute if only for the sake of her (and her department's) sanity- and of hygiene standards. No single detective, especially not Krauser of all people, are going to be jeopardizing that.
"That my job, sir." Not that she has ever failed to complete the outlines of her contract. Eyes narrow. "Krauser?" A face comes to mind. Now that she thinks about it, his paperwork always comes with soup stains...makes the paper oily to touch. Not good for folding either. "He usually turns his paperwork in late- we have to remind him multiple times to hand over his case files."
She picks up the folder of the prime suspect. "...Can I do the interrogation this time?"
"nakamura." he doesn't turn; it's easy enough to discern her voice among LAPDs surplus of baritone. instead, he opens the fridge door a little wider. demonstratively. "are you seeing this?" there's no moldy food for once—but still plenty of reason for dissatisfaction. "over half of these are tagged with neither name nor department. i've had it. i'm throwing all of this out."
mister beck! ➜ THE FRIDGE HAS SEEN BETTER DAYS FOR SURE. Though since the incident, she has yet to see any improvement- a lack of mold is bare minimum. She's glad to see have an ally for this test trial, however elusive he is within the office. She peers inside- no specks of black or blue spores but... "Isn't there a box of Chinese takeout listed as evidence for one of the cases? We haven't seen it come in for analysis..."
Upon second look too, there's at least six take out boxes sitting in the fridge.
"——typical." ( derogatory ).
tea?? ➜ "Did he break the coffee machine again?" But more importantly for her- "...Can I have his paperwork?"
my favorite paper folding fiend / @kamipyre ♡
@kagoshou / continued from here!
"YOU GOTTA KABEDON!" Preferably the Coffee Prince's love interest, but she's still working on getting someone to play that role for the spookiest time of the year. She'll get there sooner or later though! "And say his signature line: I would bean for you!"
❛❛ 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐘 𝐃𝐎 𝐇𝐀𝐕𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐈𝐑 𝐈𝐍𝐒𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐒, ❜❜ he nods. ❛❛ Some of ‘em are even good, but ask an old man anythin’ personal an’ you’ll watch him scramble towards the next best exit. ❜❜ A mischievous spark lights in his deep, brown eyes as he leans in conspiratorially. ❛❛ Why don’t you test it out? Go an’ grill Godot. Ask him about—oh, I dunno—how he's feelin' or how he’d best like t’be wooed. Then report back t’me. ❜❜
ray! ➜ OH, THAT MAKES SENSE. Mister Godot, for all his forthrightness, he rarely talks about himself, and even if one did want to know more, he's more than adept at steering the conversation in the opposition direction. It is a worthy science experiment though.. she takes out a notepad (pink and sakura themed, of course) and duteiously writes down the questions. The second one once she reads it gives her pause. "Why do you need to know how he likes to be wooed? Are you trying to flirt with him for a pay raise?"
he hadn't the right to be surprised by suki's succinct solutioning, knowing of her precision of both hand and mind, but 'twas a pleasant discovery all the same. this time, it is a shake of amused disbelief, not dismissal, that whips white tresses to and fro.
❝ permission granted, ❞ says supervisor, chuckle buried beneath granted authority. while silly on the surface, he did loathe the idea that someone could take ill to mismanagement of handling. ❝ come by my office with your deductions when possible, ❞ he adds, two fingers shot forth as a quiet salute accompanying a smile that roots for her. ❝ i expect concrete evidence, nakamura — the game is afoot. ❞
inspector serrano! ➜ THERE ARE BENEFITS TO DECEIVING APPEARANCES. Inspector Serrano should know that most of all and though Suki is only 100% herself, nothing more, nothing less, she will be damned if a benign appearance makes her actually so in essence. Especially when the preservation of evidence in question.
A day later, with the door to his office shut, she hands him a single file with the information of the three suspects inside. Three of his detectives to be exact. "Sir! I have the three individuals whose prints match the culprit's the closest. It would have been just the one, but the food stains made it tricky to get a complete profile." Hands press on the desk between them. "...Do any of them usually have lobster flavored ramen for lunch?"
"as for you, little paper crane, your flight has only just begun." ( reference. )
Oh.
Well, of course.
For a good solid too long of a moment for it to be a reasonable response to the situation Patrick doesn't quite know what to do with himself, beyond holding the key as if he's hoping it will vanish from the palm of his hand if he pretends he isn't touching it long enough.
An object as mundane as apartment keys can't levitate into nothingness, though, unfortunately, no matter how much he wishes that to be the case.
The mundane, the casual certainty of it all, call him a monster all you want and miscast him as a god, but he doesn't stand a chance when faced with someone like Suki.
It's always the ones who live because they decide it's their right and duty to do so that get him, huh.
Those who recognise the world is burning and decide, well, someone's gotta help put out the flames, no?
What a tasteless comparison.
He frowns around an awkward trickle of a smile of barely masked self-conscious startled warm amusement at Hello Kitty and decides, well, what other choice does he have here, except play along?
Leave? Easiest thing in the world, you do it all the time.
"Let me know if you rather I carried those boxes instead," he reaches for the grocery bag as if he hadn't just spent the better part of this exchange looking like he fully expects this to be some kind of trap.
Why is he even here? Or better, how bad is he getting at his one learned skill for this life, if he hadn't figured she might be home today?
He holds his breath the moment the apartment complex closes around him, and smiles around the air in his trachea.
"Or at the very least one of them," he tries to angle himself between her and the suffocating world, presenting a hand like a demand for offerings.
mister wolfman! ➜ MAYBE IT COMES FROM A PLACE OF LONELINESS. Suki, asking for help, taking the help when it is offered, when pride might dictate otherwise. Either way, Mister Wolfman is here right now and whether he wants to or not, he will now be helping her move in the first of her things and most likely, when she is finished, she will make him stay afterwards so he can have tea and snacks as a reward for his services.
This is normally how things went down in Osaka anyways. Her family and neighbors might not have understood her, not the way her parents did, but that did not mean she was not cared for. And for that same reason, if she needed a hand, it would always be there so long she knew where to look, where to ask.
She wonders if it was different for him then, the way he seems globsmacked by common sense for some odd reason. Mister Wolfman really is a strange person– makes one wonder how he ended up in Los Angles of all places. He's like an ice statue amongst the palm trees.
"I can handle the boxes!" She pipes up from behind the stack in her arms. It's a strain on her arms, of course, but she has a more important task for him anyways. "I need you to do something important for me when we get in the apartment anyways-" She jabs the elevator button with an elbow. You'll need all the energy you have to do it well!" And then she pauses, thinking for a second. "Wait, actually you'll need the ladder too for this. Can you go grab it from the moving truck? You can carry it up to the apartment too!"
ray! ➜ "NOT LAME– THE COFFEE PRINCE IS A CLASSIC!" She huffs, cheeks pudgy like a chipmunks in ardent defense of the one show she watches at least once a year at work when the boss isn't looking. "Why do you think men hairspray grey into their hair for the movies? The Coffee Prince made silver foxes popular again; you're missing out on a piece of cinematic history!"
Still his paper crane does deserve some sort of recognition. The folds may not be as precise or crisp as her own, but the wrinkles give the crane...something special. It reminds her kintsugi in a way– the repair makes the piece even more eye catching than the masterpieces. "It does!" A lazy declaration, but neither of them are ones to hold back on opinions. "Paper Moozy has a name so it's no different here especially if it's gonna live in Moozy's city!" Mollified nonetheless, she tilts her head. "Maybe some more paper? Or someone else to take over shredding duty." Alas the world is not kind to her like that. "We'd have to bring it to a shrine for it to work though. If there's something you wish for, you could do it. I could help you!"
ray! ➜ "NOT LAME– THE COFFEE PRINCE IS A CLASSIC!" She huffs, cheeks pudgy like a chipmunks in ardent defense of the one show she watches at least once a year at work when the boss isn't looking. "Why do you think men hairspray grey into their hair for the movies? The Coffee Prince made silver foxes popular again; you're missing out on a piece of cinematic history!"
Still his paper crane does deserve some sort of recognition. The folds may not be as precise or crisp as her own, but the wrinkles give the crane...something special. It reminds her kintsugi in a way– the repair makes the piece even more eye catching than the masterpieces. "It does!" A lazy declaration, but neither of them are ones to hold back on opinions. "Paper Moozy has a name so it's no different here especially if it's gonna live in Moozy's city!" Mollified nonetheless, she tilts her head. "Maybe some more paper? Or someone else to take over shredding duty." Alas the world is not kind to her like that. "We'd have to bring it to a shrine for it to work though. If there's something you wish for, you could do it. I could help you!"
