#and said 'ok great it's time for petty thievery'

[shih-coulda-had-it]

FEBUWHUMP | KILLING IN SELF-DEFENSE | WC: 999

a/n: Set in that AU where Sorahiko (Prime Torino) time-travels to AFO and Yoichi's childhood and manages with his B+ parenting skills. TW for ableist language (used in context of this being a very anti-Quirk era) and, well, Sorahiko knifing the guy.

//

If it had been Nana or Toshinori in this position, Sorahiko muses, they would have had a tougher time getting accustomed to the sheer brutality of the era. Their present isn’t perfect, but they at least have the economy and government in working order. This is just chaos, through and through.

People lie, cheat, and steal to make it through the day, and Sorahiko genuinely has no idea how the country’s still managing an influx of goods when it seems like the world is too busy imploding to maintain a trade network.

Not his problem.

He’s got two children to mind. Food and shelter, that’s what he promised them, and he aims to deliver. The latter is a broken-down residential building, empty of any permanent legal inhabitants because of the roaming mobs and people like Sorahiko (squatters).

And as for the former, well. Sorahiko’s working on it.

“You kids want to go to the countryside?” he asks idly. Against his better judgment, he’s had to let them follow him outside the building, because the probability of Chibi-AFO taking his absence as permission to run away is much, much higher than zero. Sorahiko carries the smaller boy on his hip, and Chibi-AFO has the dubious honor of sitting on his shoulders. 

He left the uniform at home, opting for a beat-up denim jacket over his black turtleneck, jeans, and sneakers. The boys have been scrubbed clean(ish), and dressed in better clothes (though when Chibi-AFO’s base standard is a repurposed garbage bag, anything is a massive improvement).

Wandering down a street in broad daylight would have had them clocked as a family. Sorahiko uncomfortably represses the weird twist of his gut, in favor of being grateful that it’s the dead of night, as they are looking for a convenience store to rob.

“What’s that?” the smaller boy asks.

“The countryside? It’s outside the city. Quiet, if you don’t count the bugs, but pretty boring after a while. Lots of green. Probably better food.”

“No,” Chibi-AFO mutters into his hair. “Don’t wanna go.”

He sighs. Part of him--the city boy who much preferred streets of asphalt and plenty of high buildings--agrees with the toddler. The rest of him thinks that Chibi-AFO is simply being contrary. 

Ever since they discovered that Sorahiko can’t be affected by his Quirk-stealing power (it was a downright relief to know that Jet wouldn’t disappear in the middle of the night; it was absolutely hilarious to see Chibi-AFO’s face as his last murder attempt failed to spear Sorahiko’s shin, bouncing off like the black energy was made of rubber), Chibi-AFO’s been pouty and prone to temper tantrums. The smaller boy is awed to see Sorahiko survive every time.

“It’s nicer in the summer,” he says.

“Why?”

Sorahiko considers his memories of going to his grandparents’ house as a child. The backyard garden, the forest surrounding the mountain village, the many terrifyingly large bugs that found cozy homes in his blankets… He clears his throat. “Because it’s worse in the winter.”

“That’s not an answer!”

“Well, what do you know,” Sorahiko drawls, hitching the smaller boy a little higher. “You’re just a baby. I know a lot more than you.”

The specifics of what the boys seemed to know and understand about the world, their life, or even each other remains a total mystery to Sorahiko. They haven’t given him names yet, and he’s not inclined to do anything like renaming them. They don’t know how old they are, and they don’t know the name of the city they were wandering in. They can’t read, and they certainly don’t know how to write.

Chibi-AFO digs his tiny gremlin fingers into Sorahiko’s hair. “Not babies,” he mutters, and Sorahiko is about to jostle the kid when, of all the times and places, a man staggers out of an alley ahead, spots them, and brandishes a familiar whistle.

“Metas,” he snarls.

Sorahiko makes several rapid calculations. The man is sober, not drunk. That means Sorahiko can’t rely on inflicting a simple head concussion to compound any memory issues. Chibi-AFO is tense on his shoulders, and the smaller boy has instinctively made himself smaller, even as he clutches one of his brother’s ankles.

“Move even once,” he hears himself snarl back, “and I’ll make sure it’s your last. We’re just on a walk.”

“Diseased freaks shouldn’t be allowed out of the quarantine zones,” the man says, and he pulls out a knife too. Then, like a true fanatic, he goes to blow the whistle in order to flag a squad of Meta X-ers to gather.

Sorahiko crouches down and pries the smaller boy’s clinging hands off, wrenches Chibi-AFO off along with his jacket. The shrill call of the whistle sings in the previously quiet night; Sorahiko catches both boys in the jacket and squeezes their shoulders, stares hard at them.

“This’ll be quick,” he promises, and whips around at the sound of rubber soles hitting asphalt.

Knife raised. The man is mid-lunge. Sorahiko pounces with a burst of Jet, tackles him back, wrestling the knife out of the now desperate grip. The man writhes under him, like he’s just realized that he’s picked a fight against a Meta with teeth. Insults spill out of the man’s mouth, filthy enough that Sorahiko sees red when he takes the wooden handle and pins his opponent to the ground by the throat.

How many Meta X-ers are in the area? Does Sorahiko have enough time to smash and grab a few containers of instant noodles before they need to flee to the roofs? Why are people so stupid--

“White hair,” the man wheezes, and Sorahiko redoubles his grip on the knife. He wishes the man would just shut up and preserve his own life. He wishes he hadn’t brought the boys along. “White hair, light eyes, two kids. White hair… light eyes… two kids…!”

Sorahiko plunges the knife down, and hears the man manage one more, “Monster!” before sharpened steel pierces flesh and bone.

[1800-needs-help]

Forgot to do this and ive watched more than 10 ep since the last one so I'll combine a couple into each post. I love a bit of controlled clutter, live for it even

S2 Ep4

Imma be so honest, I never wrote down what the patient had or was going through, I just have whatever I wrote about the main characters to go off of...

OK I FIGURED IT OUT

Man that works with TB patients in Africa gets TB...SHOCKER

When Cameron was yelling for help in the stairway GIRL NO ONE IS GONNA HEAR YOUR SOFT ASS VOICE LMAOOOO

(Imma be so honest a lot of this is just gonna be my favorite house quotes hehe)

"Did I hurt the big time oncologist's Itty bitty feelings? 🥺" BITCH FUCK YOU AHAHAHAHAHAHA

House stealing that steak was great. LOVE petty thievery

"Sure they're dying, but it's got a great beat" *snap...snap*

Wilson is very pretty

S2 Ep5

Wilson has the worst handwriting god I love him

"Invite me to dinner Thursday night"

"Unlike her I can make it worth your while"... The amount of gay jokes is so homophobic...it's kinda got me gigglin fuck you FOX

Wilson is very pretty...especially when he's just done with house's bullshit

"Then drop your pants" said by Cameron, surprisingly.

*after doing spinal surgery* "Do I rock or what?" "HIS PRESSURES DROPPING!!" LMAOOOOOOOOO

Insane how he gave his son RADIATION POISONING

S2 Ep6

FREDDY BENSON FROM ICARLY????

TARAJI P. HENSON????

Wilson is very pretty

House going to therapy is both funny and terrifying

I happen to think cheaters should never be forgiven but I'll happily make an exception for Wilson

"How am I supposed to practice medicine with a lawyer sitting in my shoulder?"

"Responsibly"

"YOU KNOW I CANT DO THAT"

When house gave the bicyclist a temporary cure and he let him get up from the bed...WHY DID HE LET HIM JUST COLLAPSE LIKE THAT LMAOOOO

"You'd be surprised what you can live with" WILSON YOU DOG

[smells-like-mettaton]

soriel, 1 (chocolate) for the ask game?

Like a Box of Chocolates

Rating: G Word Count: 2734 Read on AO3: here

---

"Ok. I brought a few choices," Sans said while sitting with his back to the door. He pulled a plastic sack full of chocolate and chocolate-adjacent treats out from under his shirt.

"Oh, you did not have to do that." The voice behind the door sounded embarrassed.

"It's no big deal." He shrugged instinctively, though she wouldn't be able to see it. "Not like I candy things like this for you very often."

The lady laughed, even though the pun was a stretch. She was a great audience like that.

"I cannot argue with that. After all, it is the choco-thought that counts."

Sans let out a wheeze. Man, she had him beat in the bad jokes department. He needed to up his game.

"What can I say, I'm a sweet guy." That joke would work better if she could see his wink.

"You certainly are, my friend."

Sans blinked. He hadn't been prepared for the genuine warmth in her voice. Now he felt something like a melted chocolate himself.

"Uh. You'd better wait and make sure I didn't pick out garbage before you say that." He chuckled nervously and spread out the chocolates in the snow.

"Alright. Hit me with your best choco-shot."

He laughed out loud at that one too. She could really squeeze some mileage out of chocolate puns.

"First off we have the MTT-Brand Chocolate Mettaton. Which is exactly what it sounds like. Chocolate in the shape of everyone's favorite robot superstar." He scanned the back of the wrapper. "Contains sequins and glitter, but it's still monster food, so probably won't cause any more indigestion than Temmie Flakes. Still, wouldn't blame ya if you passed on that."

The lady laughed. "I do not know this 'Mettaton,' but he sounds like someone…"

Her voice trailed off, the way it always did when she neared a personal topic. It seemed to be happening more and more often lately. Sans didn't know if that was a good sign, or if he needed to do a better job of distracting her.

"Someone I know would have liked that," she finished clumsily.

"Welp. It's yours, then." He attempted to slide it under the door.

Attempted. The thick block of chocolate wouldn't fit through the narrow space.

"What are my other options?" The lady asked, not seeming to hear his failure.

(Or just ignoring it. The way they always ignored things they didn't want to acknowledge.)

Oh well. He'd deal with that later, if she wanted to.

He picked up the next box and rattled it. It looked thin enough to fit under the door.

"I think this one's called, uh, pocket?” He couldn’t tell for sure, since the box was labeled in a language he didn’t recognize. Where did Alphys get this stuff? “A pal gave it to me. They’re like chocolate-covered sticks, I think."

"Not precisely what I was looking for, but I would love to try it regardless," she said. "If I am allowed to have both options, I mean. If not, I should probably stick with the Em-Tee-Tee."

Sans bit back a snort. So she hadn't heard after all. That made this a lot more awkward.

"Do you wanna hear the other options first? Wouldn't want ya to have any regrets."

"Oh! There are more?"

She sounded as surprised as a kid finding an extra fry in the bottom of their Grillby's bag. He couldn't help grinning.

"Yup. Next up is a chocolate spider donut—”

“Made by spiders, for spiders, of spiders?” The voice seemed on the verge of laughter again.

His eyesockets widened. “Uh… welp. Guess you don’t need the whole spiel, huh?”

“There is a spider bakesale right around the corner from my home,” the lady explained. “I believe they are saving for a… ‘heated limo’? To travel safely through Snowdin. I wish I could help them, but I did not think to take much gold when I…”

Another dead end. That was fine, Sans could piece together enough. Not that her personal life was any of his business, anyway.

“If it makes ya feel any better, they really raked me over the coals for this one.”

“It does not!” came her quick reply. “I only asked for a chocolate bar. Not for you to spend money that you need on me.”

Geez, this lady was too good for him. As if Sans ever really went out of his way for anyone.

Except Papyrus, but he was family. And sometimes Grillby, if he felt bad about failing to pay his tab for too long. And Alphys, but he owed her for screwing off after space-time blew up in their faces.

And now, the lady behind the door. The lady he didn’t owe anything to, except a few good laughs.

Who was he kidding? Those laughs were more important to him than anything.

“Eh, it just cost me one day of selling ‘dogs. Donut worry about it.”

“Very well. Since it was for a good cause, I will not grill you any further. But please tell me that was the last chocolate you purchased for me.”

“It’s the last one I purchased.” He grinned. While she couldn’t see his expression, she must have heard the but in his voice.

“Please tell me you did not steal any chocolate for me.”

“Geez, lady, what do you take me for? I’d never commit petty thievery.”

“Well, that is reassuring.”

“Yep. Gotta save room for the real high-dollar crimes. Like the illegal hot dog stand.”

The voice behind the door went silent. He wished he could see her face now more than ever. His own grin slowly slid from his skull.

“Everyone knows about it,” he reassured her. “If the King really wanted to shut me down, he’d have done it a long time ago.”

“Oh, I am not judging you for that. I am sure the law is rigged against you if the King has any say in it.” Her voice was surprisingly bitter.

His real problem was that he couldn’t ever find the necessary documents to get licensed in food preparation. His birth certificate was presumably in whatever alternate dimension his old man had blasted them out of.

“You are judging me for something, though,” he realized. The chill of the snow seeped into his bones, but he didn’t dare adjust his position. Somehow he felt that if he moved, she would disappear.

“I am not. I was only thinking about…” She sighed. “It is complicated. There was a time when I could have helped you, but it is long past.”

“Help me? Look, lady, the ‘dog stand is fine. Promise. Better than fine, since I don’t gotta pay taxes on it.”

She chuckled at that.

“Very well. Forgive a silly old lady for worrying.”

“Done.” He smiled, settling back against the door more comfortably.

He should’ve known she’d have a problem with his illegal activities, though. She was a classy lady, and he was… him. Why had he even brought it up? It wasn’t a great joke. Did he really just want her to know?

Eh, whatever. She wasn’t mad, so no harm done, right?

“I would like to know how you acquired this other chocolate, if it was not through your sticky fingers.” She sounded like she was grinning.

“Huh? Oh.” He blinked and dug out the last chocolate of the bunch. Blue dusted his cheeks. “QC—that’s the lady who runs the shop in town—gave ‘em to me for free. They’re called, uh, kisses.”

QC had a knowing look in her eyes when she’d offered the bag of chocolates to him. It was his own fault for implying they were for a girl. Everyone already thought he screwed around in the woods on his shifts, and with the way gossip travelled in a small town, everyone at Grillby’s would be asking about his girlfriend tonight.

“Kisses,” the lady behind the door echoed. “This is not one of your jokes, is it?”

“Not this time. Sorry to disappoint.” His grin felt too tight. “They’re, uh, tiny chocolates. Kinda cone-shaped? QC makes ‘em herself, so they’ve gotta be good.”

“Oh.” Oddly, the voice did sound disappointed. Sans couldn’t imagine why. Not like he could kiss her through the door, even if he had lips. And even if there was some unlikely timeline where she wanted a kiss from him.

He wanted to thump his skull back against the door, but there was no point in worrying her like that.

“In that case, I will take the kisses. They will be perfect for…”

He was sure she would leave it at that. Cover up with some non sequitur.

So his eyesockets went wide when she said, “for the anniversary of my child’s passing.”

“Oh.” He let out a strangled little laugh. “I—geez, I’m sorry. If I’d known—”

“You would have what? Spent even more money on this silly old lady, who cannot even leave to buy her child’s favorite chocolate?” Her voice was firm. “No. I thought you deserved to know, after the trouble you went to, and because you shared your own secret with me today.”

“My ‘dog stand is hardly a secret,” he said, still feeling a little shaky. She had a kid? A dead kid?

Well, who in the Underground didn’t have skeletons in their closet? Metaphorically or literally. She was still his best friend. If she wanted his pity, she would’ve said something sooner.

“Regardless,” she said. “It is in the past. Forget it, if you wish. But please do not treat me any differently.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he said sincerely. If there was one thing he was good at, it was maintaining the status quo. “So, uh. These chocolates. I kind of wanted you to have all of ‘em, if that’s alright with you.”

“It would be rude to refuse a gift, would it not?” She sounded like she was smiling again, to his relief.

“There’s just one problem. Uh. Don’t think they’re all gonna fit under the door.” He rapped on the stone surface with his knuckle for emphasis.

“I did not assume they would. The recipe I gave you before hardly passed through.”

Sans blinked. “Then you—huh?”

“I will open the door just a fraction. It can only be done from the inside.” She paused, like she was gathering a breath. “I would ask that you do not look. I promise I will not peek, either.”

Sans’s ribcage tightened. She was going to open the door. She would be right there, with no stone between them.

The thought opened a desperate floodgate within him. He hadn’t realized just how badly he wanted to see her, to know her, to live off of more than just scraps and unfinished sentences.

She once had a child. She had some kind of beef against the King. She wanted to give charity to spiders, but didn’t have enough money. All these facts he filed away, tucking them into the grooves in his ribcage.

It would be enough. He’d duct tape those gates shut again, if he had to. He wasn’t going to betray the trust she’d shown him.

“Got it. You don’t wanna be smitten by my good looks, I understand,” he joked.

(He had a feeling it would be the other way around, if anything. Not that quality of jokes translated to quality of appearance—he would know. If it did, he’d have biceps like his brother.)

“It would be tragic. Much too high a price for you to handsome chocolate to me.”

“Heh, I’m sure you’re a door-able too. But I’ll keep my sockets shut, since our friendship hinges on it.”

That got a raucous laugh out of her, the kind that started off high-pitched and quickly became something of a snorting bleat. That sound was sweeter than chocolate to him.

...Man, his pals at Grilby’s would be right to dunk on him. He was a massive dork.

“Alright,” she said once she caught her breath, “if you are ready, my friend…”

“Yeah.” He nodded. “Better choco-late than never, huh?”

That one only got a snort, but he wasn’t sure if that was because the pun fell flat, or because she was nervous. As far as he knew, she hadn’t been outside of the Ruins in years. And here she was, trusting a sentry—someone whose job it was to keep a look out—to turn a blind eye.

It was a good thing he’d never been good at his job.

Stone ground against stone with a dramatic rumble. His eyesockets stayed shut. Warmth emanated from somewhere near his shoulder, and he lifted the bag of chocolates.

His small hand brushed a large fur-covered one. A shiver trailed down his spine. One small touch shouldn’t have done so much to him, but—but she was real. She was more than just a voice behind a door. Which he knew, but knowing and feeling could be worlds apart at times.

She took the bag, and the moment was over. But the door didn’t close.

“My dear friend,” she whispered, her voice sounding closer than ever. “Would it be presumptuous to ask another favor of you?”

“‘Course not. Glad to do a favor for my favor-ite person.” He kept his tone light, unaffected by the swirling emotions inside him.

“If I could… oh, dear, this is embarrassing.”

He resisted the urge to open his eyes, to see what look might be on her face.

“It has simply been so long… may I hold your hand a moment longer?”

He felt the marrow heating within his bones.

“That all? I gotta hand it to ya, you made me think you needed an arm and a leg.”

She chuckled before awkwardly fumbling to grasp his hand again.

Heat poured from her palm into his phalanges. Aside from the fur, there were several spots of soft skin—probably paw pads. Was she a dog monster, like the Canine Unit in town? She didn’t make nearly enough dog jokes for that to be the case. Her laugh sounded more like a goat’s, but she obviously didn’t have hooves. Maybe she was some kind of chimera? You didn’t see those often nowadays, but then again, no one saw monsters from the Ruins, either.

“Thank you,” she said, her voice as soft as the snow that began to drift around him.

“Not disappointed?” He asked, only half-joking. “My hand can’t be as comfy as yours.”

“Ah, but it is all your bone. And that is wonderful to me.”

“Geez, old lady.” He was grateful she couldn’t see his blush. “You’re pretty fur-fect yourself.”

When she laughed, her body shook all the way down to her hand. The feeling more than made up for all the G he’d spent on chocolate and donuts.

Suddenly his hand was being lifted up, and then something soft pressed against his knuckles. His soul flared erratically, and his eyes nearly flew open. If they had, he was sure his left eyelight would have been blue from shock.

“A kiss for a kiss,” she said slyly. “It is only fair.”

“Heh heh…” His voice shook with more than laughter. “Technically, that was one kiss for a bag of kisses. Pretty sure that math doesn’t square up.”

“Oh, you are quite right! One day we will have to circle back and rectify that.”

He practically had to cast gravity magic on himself to keep his eyes from flying open.

“You—huh?” He said intelligently.

“Perhaps not soon,” she clarified. “This has all been… a lot, for me. But thanks to you, my dear friend, this day has not been so bitter as I am used to.”

“Uh, no problem, then. With all that chocolate, I hope it’s sweet.”

Sweet as the anniversary of a death could be, anyway. He grimaced. Maybe that joke was too soon, but she just squeezed his hand before finally letting go.

“I do think it will be,” she said softly. “I will look forward to hearing more of your punny jokes tomorrow.”

The door scraped shut, and he hesitantly opened his eyes. He couldn't help inspecting the door to see if anything changed. Pressing his still-warm hand against the smooth stone.

“Heh. Good luck getting rid of me now.” He grinned.

Then he tucked his hands in his pockets, where her kiss remained like a tattoo on his bone.

[queenlua]

Ace Attorney case tier list

so, in the past year, i finished replaying games 1 through 5 for the first time in forever, and also played game 6 for the first time ever

so here’s where i ruthlessly rank each of the cases based on that most scientific metric of all, My Opinions:

OPENING CASES

S-tier: Turnabout Trump (4-1).  I already knew this case, and I still gasped with surprise when Phoenix showed up, and when Kristoph showed his true colors, and when Apollo realized OH SHIT OH FUCK I REALLY AM ACCUSING MY BOSS OF MURDER HUH... what a wonderful, splashy, shockingly concise case to open up the post-O.G. trilogy world.  Marvelous.

A-tier: Turnabout Memories (3-1).  Seeing Mia Fey (finally!) in action is a long-awaited delight; seeing Phoenix being a total dumbass was an unexpected-yet-perfect and fitting delight.

B-tier: The First Turnabout (1-1).  Solid lil’ case with some conventional-but-well-executed humor.  I’ve got a soft spot for Larry Butz.

C-tier: The Lost Turnabout (2-1), The Foreign Turnabout (6-1).  The former’s fine but a little forgettable; the latter has some fun gags (Payne’s ridiculous new outfit, dude absolutely shredding on the mandolin, etc) but is marred by how uh... kinda silly the game’s core conceit is, lol

E-tier: Turnabout Countdown (5-1).  The context surrounding this introduction is just sloppy (badly handled in media res + let’s lowkey retcon game 4 isn’t a great setup), and also the case itself is just. irksome. ted tonate is just fundamentally irritating to look at

FINALE CASES

S-tier: Bridge to the Turnabout (3-5), Turnabout Goodbyes (1-4).  No explanation needed.  God they fuck so hard

A-tier: The Cosmic Turnabout + Turnabout for Tomorrow (5-4 + 5-5), Turnabout Succession (4-4).

The former two cases are what makes AA5 worth it, and they make for a tremendously fun ride.  It fumbles the execution in some notable ways (Apollo’s sudden j’accuse moment feels a little forced/awkward/inadequately foreshadowed, and damn it sure would’ve been nice to know Clay Terran at all before he died, and also The Phantom’s final meltdown could’ve used a bit more emotional heft)... but okay let’s be real, I’m here for Simon Blackquill, and this case gives me so much of him so who gives a shit.  (And Aura!  Condescending obnoxious engineering queen!  I love her!)  

As for Turnabout Succession... while I earnestly wish the game had explored more of Klavier’s feelings about this whole setup, and some more emotional beats for Apollo, the case still makes for such a satisfyingly twisty and fun investigation overall (the poison stamp! what a ridiculous murder method! I love it!) that it’s a more-than-worthy finale.

B-tier: Turnabout Revolution (6-5), Farewell, My Turnabout (2-4).

The former does some cool stuff—I particularly like the opening half, where Apollo’s being real snippy and coping with Frankly Bizarre Dad Feelings, and giving Apollo a chance to finally throw down against Phoenix is a blast.  The latter half of the case starts feeling a little... ridiculous? cramped? idk? like, they didn’t do nearly enough foreshadowing about Nahyuta’s whole deal for me to care about his drama, this justice system is so obviously silly and the manner in which the revolution is playing out strains my already-suspended-sky-high disbelief... fun, and flashy, but more noise than signal in the last part, I guess.

As for Farewell, My Turnabout: of course I love Edgeworth rolling back into court goin’ through SOME kind of bizarre emotional arc of Hey I’m Totally Healed Now and obnoxiously preaching about Truth TM.  And it’s cool that the game set up a case where you want to lose.  But the net result is a bit strange tonally—it’s trying set up some kind of message about It’s Not Just About Winning, It’s About Pursuing The Truth, but it feels really muddled when that’s combined with Okay But Maya’s Literally Being Held Hostage Like Right Now, Surely A Reasonable Justice System Has A Process For Dealing With This Obviously Complicated Situation, Right?

but also Franziska takes a fucking bullet (how did I forget about that) and then gets to roll in like Ms. Save The Day so, really, lots of good shit here

FILLER CASES

S-tier: Reunion, and Turnabout (2-2), Turnabout Beginnings (3-4).  Look, the first one gives me all the Fey family drama a girl could ask for, and the latter gives me young Edgeworth being a total shit in an obnoxiously shimmery outfit.  The whole enchilada is here

A+ tier: The Magical Turnabout (6-2).  DELIGHTFUL!  MAGICIAN!  SHENANIGANS!  Like you get to guess the trick behind a magic act as part of the case, how fucking fun is that, and also the Apollo & Athena duo’s chemistry is perfect, the villain is a FANTASTIC bastard, and even the bit characters you meet during the investigation are total delights... Probably the best “standalone” case in the series, in that it doesn’t rely on any emotional connections to previous cases (unlike 2-2 and 3-4) to still totally and completely rule.

A tier: Turnabout Samurai (1-3), Turnabout Reclaimed (5-DLC).

For Turnabout Samurai, I remembered before this replay how delightful the TV SHOW STUDIO investigation and actor-fandom stuff was; I had TOTALLY forgotten Vasquez calling in her mob connections to try and wreck you.  What a fantastic villain; what a fun case.

Turnabout Reclaimed is just good solid goofy nonsense.  Probably receives a boost for me in particular because, yeah, Simon Blackquill.  But then again who isn’t giving cases a boost on that account; they are MISSING OUT

B tier: The Stolen Turnabout (3-2).  Ron and Desirée are so great sighs into hands

C tier: Listing roughly in order of preference: Turnabout Academy (5-3), Turnabout Serenade (4-3), Turnabout Sisters (1-2), Recipe for a Turnabout (3-3), Rite of the Turnabout (6-3), Rise from the Ashes (1-5).

Four of these (5-3, 4-3, 1-2, 3-3) are perfectly solid cases; I just don’t love them quite as much as “thievery hijinks” or “Hollywood hijinks” or other such particularly delightful flavors.  Everyone has a favorite flavor of Jolly Rancher and all that.

Rite of the Turnabout is interesting and connected with the larger themes of the game in a cool way, and makes good use of the divination mechanic.  However, the last bit gets twisty enough to actually be kind of confusing, and said larger themes of the game are... kinda hard for me to take seriously... which, yeah, leads to it feeling a little stilted when it really should be singing.

Rise from the Ashes landed awkwardly for me.  I know it was added well after the first game’s release, and it does a good job of continuing some of the cool stuff from that game—it’s neat, in isolation, to see Phoenix and Edgeworth working together (while still sniping at each other!), and some of the DS-specific mechanics are neat.  However, I just didn’t feel like I learned quite enough about Ema and Lana to care about them like I should, and retconning “(almost certainly true) rumors that Edgeworth was involved in Shady Shit TM” into “actually Edgeworth was totally ignorant of Shady Shit TM, like at worst his crime was willful ignorance / incuriosity, he was just been manipulated by the Police Chief”... makes Edgeworth less interesting to me!  Like, it’s cool to see Edgeworth caught off-guard and under pressure, but I wish the circumstances had been different?  Also Gant’s theme song is annoying as shit, which is petty but hey this is my blog post so

D tier: Turnabout Storyteller (6-4), Turnabout Corner (4-2), Turnabout Big Top (2-3), The Monstrous Turnabout (5-2).

Turnabout Storyteller has some fun gags with My Dude Simon and also Taka, but was heavily marred by Everyone Talking Down To Athena The Entire Fucking Case Oh My God Can You All Just Shut Up.

Turnabout Corner has... lots of fun elements but... look the fucking stolen-panties setup just grates ok

I don’t think I hate Turnabout Big Top the way most people seem to, but I did find the final murder setup more annoying that I remembered this playthrough—bro you were really sure the dude was going to conveniently stand right there and the heavy statue was definitely going to strike a killing blow and not just give the guy a concussion?  ok lol

The Monstrous Turnabout suffers mostly from poor puzzle/investigation design, being too hand-hold-y, and also having a core gimmick/setting that just wasn’t really my thing.  Alas!

[worryinglyinnocent]

Fic: Everything Money Can Buy (5/12)

Summary: The Greatest Store in the World AU. When misfortune strikes and leaves Emma Swan and her son homeless just before Christmas, the ever-resourceful Emma has a ready solution. They’ll move into Mills Department Store, a place they can only dream of affording to buy from. It’s not easy, having to deal with a perpetually grumpy doorman, a nasty assistant manager, and an extremely suspect Santa, but Emma and Henry soon learn that the kindness of strangers is something money can’t buy.

Swan Believer centric, with eventual Swan Queen and background Rumbelle and Dwarf Star.

Rated: G

=====

[One] [Two] [Three] [Four] [AO3]

=====

Five

Henry had to admit that he felt a lot safer sleeping in the tent in the basement than he had done in beds and bedlinen. The zipped-up tent flap added an extra layer of security against, well, the security guards, and sleeping in sleeping bags with the lantern hanging above them reminded him of the van. It was almost a home from home. As much as he didn’t really want to live in Mills for any longer than they had to – the risks seemed to far outweigh the benefits, in his opinion – he could see himself being happy camping indoors for a while.

Or at least, he could have done, until the moment that he woke up on Sunday morning. The main lights in the shop were up, and he could hear people moving around outside the tent.

“Please let it be the cleaners,” he whispered to himself, and he unzipped the tent flap a minute fraction to peep out.

It was not the cleaners. The people just a few feet away from him, looking at sleeping bags, were most definitely customers, and to make matters even worse, they definitely had a sales assistant with them, pointing out the various merits of various different kinds of sleeping bags. As pleased as Henry was to know that the particular model that he himself was currently inside was one of the best they sold and the one that the shop assistant would personally recommend, that did not stop the rising feeling of dread that and Mum had found themselves in what could euphemistically be termed a bit of a pickle.

“Mum!” He scrambled out of his sleeping bag and shook Mum’s shoulder. “Mum! We overslept! The shop’s open!”

“What?” Mum grumbled. “It’s a Sunday, they don’t open till ten, what are you talking about…” She grabbed her phone and looked at the time.

It was ten fifteen.

“Well, bugger.” She looked at the tent flap. “No one’s going to want to look inside this tent, though, are they?”

Henry shrugged. “Maybe not, but we can’t exactly get out whilst they’re out there.” He pointed at the vague shadows of bodies that could be seen through the tent material.

“Good point. Right. We’d better get dressed and think of a plan.”

Henry and Mum had had to make some daring escapes from some daring places before in their time, so gathering together all of their things in either the dead of night or the middle of the day, or from a very small space, was nothing entirely new to them. All the same, Henry was quite certain that this was the most fraught that the experience had ever been. The need to keep very quiet wasn’t exactly helping, although thankfully the background music of looped Christmas pop tunes drowned out most of the noise of them moving luggage around.

Once they were ready to leave, Mum listened at the tent flap for a while. They really couldn’t stay here much longer; Henry’s stomach was growling and the longer they stayed, the greater their chance of discovery would be.

“Is there anyone there?” Henry whispered.

Mum shook her head. “I can’t tell. I think we’re just going to have to make a break for it.”

With a sudden, decisive movement, she unzipped the tent flap, startling the couple who had been looking at sleeping bags and who had appeared to have opted for the sales assistant’s recommendation. Thankfully, the assistant himself had wandered off. She grabbed her backpack and ushered Henry out of the tent.

“Well, the tent is definitely big enough for us and the backpack,” she said brightly, brushing herself off. “Come on Henry, we’ll come back and buy one later. We’ve got other shopping to do.”

They hurried off towards the escalators, leaving the astonished shoppers behind them.

“Do you think they bought it?” Henry asked.

“I have no idea, but we only have to get outside, I don’t think they’re likely to raise that much of a fuss in the time it takes us to get up one escalator and out of the door.”

There were all kinds of things that were wrong with that statement, and Henry couldn’t help but be nervous about all the luggage that they had left piled in the tent with the post-its on, but before he could point this out to Mum, they tripped at the last hurdle. Literally, almost. They were nearly out of the door, going as quickly as they possibly could without drawing attention to themselves, when Mum almost collided with Gold.

Henry had always thought that Gold looked very impressive and very terrifying in his uniform, and right now, he looked even more terrifying than he had ever done.

“Sorry,” Mum said cheerily. “If we could just…” She made to dodge past him, tugging on Henry’s hand, but Gold stood steadfastly in their way.

“I didn’t see you come in this morning,” he said, his tone accusatory, and Henry gulped, glancing up at Mum and hoping that she could talk their way out of this one like she’d talked them out of so many other scrapes in the past.

“Well, you know, it’s a big shop and there are a lot of shoppers. Only have to turn your back for a moment and someone can slip by you. I mean, what about now, you’re not monitoring everyone coming in and out now, are you?”

“That’s not the point,” Gold snapped. “I don’t recall you leaving last night, either. I generally have a good memory for these things.”

“Good for you. Keep eating the carrots. Or is that seeing in the dark? Anyway, if you don’t mind, our purchases have been completed and we’d like to leave the store.”

Gold looked her up and down. “Where are your bags?”

Emma patted the backpack. “Save the planet, cut down on plastic waste. Honestly, where are your environmental credentials, Mr Gold?”

“It’s ok, Alistair.”

Belle from the customer service desk came over to them, smiling brightly.

“I saw them come in earlier,” she said. “You were helping unfold Mrs Rothschild out of her taxi.”

Gold looked from Belle to Mum to Henry and back again, then gave an unsure nod and stood aside. Mum gave him her sweetest, butter wouldn’t melt smile, and they left the store just as Zelena’s high heels clattered down the main steps and her less than dulcet tones could be heard admonishing Gold.

“Mr Gold! I believe we had a conversation yesterday about the doorman’s primary location being on the outside of the building!”

Mum and Henry sped around the side of the shop before Gold could come out and find them loitering on the doorstep. It was only once they were out of sight that Henry felt able to breathe freely again.

“She knows, Mum,” he said mournfully. “Belle must know that we’re sleeping in the shop. Because she definitely didn’t see us come in this morning.”

“Yeah.” Mum leaned back against the wall to get her breath back. “Yeah, she must realise that something’s up. Damn it! Oh Henry, I’m so sorry. I was so certain that we’d found somewhere safe.”

“It’s ok.” Henry knew that Mum was trying her best. “We can find somewhere else.”

Although maybe, now that he thought about it, they wouldn’t have to. Belle had covered for them. She hadn’t seen them go in, and she had lied anyway and got them out of their scrape with Gold. And Belle liked Gold, Henry knew that much just from watching their interaction the previous day. She wouldn’t be doing it to get one over on him.

Maybe, just maybe, she was helping them out of the goodness of her heart, and she was actually helping them.

Henry put this tentative hope to Mum as they walked along in search of breakfast. She said nothing for a long time; Mum was used to not trusting anyone to have her best interests at heart. It had been so long since they’d benefitted from the kindness of strangers that she had begun to believe that it did not exist, although Henry still had faith in it.

He had faith in Belle not to give away their secret.

X

Gold was not having a good day. In fact, a day when Gold did have a good day was a rarity lately. His ex-wife had announced that she would be having their son for Christmas this year despite having had him last year and promising that he could stay with his dad this year, and Gold didn’t have the money or energy to try and dispute her. On top of that, he was cold, tired, and in pain, and he was feeling extremely old. His ankle was complaining bitterly about the long days spent outside in the freezing temperatures; it had been so swollen when he’d woken up this morning that he could barely get his support on, but if he’d left it off then he wouldn’t be able to move by the end of the day.

And, of course, there was the woman and the boy, the ones he wasn’t sure about. There was something fishy about them and the vast amounts of baggage that they always had whenever they came into the store. The fact that they’d left without the vast amounts of baggage this morning gave him even more cause for concern than them leaving with the baggage did. If they’d left with it, then he could put them down as petty thieves – not that it was possible for any kind of thievery in a store like Mills to be petty. Leaving the bags was altogether more perplexing. And he really hadn’t seen them come in this morning, and he wasn’t sure that Belle was telling the complete truth either. Still, he trusted Belle. She would have had her reasons for covering for them, he was sure.

Adding the cherry on top of this rather fine cake of complaints, Zelena was acting like a complete nutcase again, seeming to take a great delight in dressing him down in front of myriad customers whenever she found him inside the building in an effort to stop himself from freezing solid outside, and yet being rather overly friendly whenever they were together in private. He tried to avoid her at all costs, but she always seemed to have a way of finding him after staff briefings and trying to corner him. He couldn’t really tell exactly what she wanted, and he had come to believe that her constant reminding him of his place in the proverbial pecking order was some kind of punishment for rejecting her.

Right now, he was prepared to take it as long as it meant that he could stay away from her rapidly widening aura of insanity.

Gold rubbed his hands together, stamping his feet on the freezing paving slabs outside the door, waiting for customers coming in and out. The handwarmers that Belle had given him yesterday were a blessing, and Gold wished that they made a suit out of the material that he could wear under his uniform to keep him toasty in his entirety.

Actually, forget the handwarmers. Belle herself was a blessing. Right now, it felt like she was the only bright spark in his entire miserable life, and he desperately wanted to tell her how much she meant to him, but he could never bring himself to make a move. After all, who in their right mind would want him? He was probably twice her age for a start, not to mention the fact that he’d gone through a very acrimonious divorce, and he was still recovering from the alcoholic funk that he’d settled into after that had happened. It was a miracle that he’d landed the job at Mills, if he was honest, which was why he knew that he couldn’t complain about it, or about Zelena, too much. He owed a lot to Regina Mills, and if that meant putting up with everything he hated about his job, then so be it. At least he had a roof over his head and food on the table, and his son didn’t hate him quite as much as he’d done a few years ago.

Gold’s thoughts meandered back to Belle. Maybe he ought to take a chance and ask her out. It could be something very casual. He could ask her if she was going to the staff party on Christmas Eve. That way he could just arrange to see her there. It was a big enough shop, after all, they could definitely avoid each other if it got awkward. And it wouldn’t seem too much like a date then; just two colleagues looking out for each other during an evening of drunkenness and general debauchery. Ever since Belle had joined Mills, he’d always shared a camaraderie with her that went beyond the normal interactions of two colleagues who didn’t really know each other all that well. They were united against Zelena, both of them looking out for opportunities to undermine her whenever they could and lamenting the fact that those opportunities did not come anywhere near as often as they would like.

Or maybe he could begin the conversation by asking her what she was reading at the moment. She always had a book with her under the customer service desk and was very good at sneaking a quick half a page whilst looking like she was busy on the computer. Gold had found that his own reading repertoire had increased greatly since meeting Belle, as she was always so enthusiastic about her books and he wanted to experience the same kind of joy that she did from them. It didn’t always work; there were several titles that they’d ended up getting into passionate arguments about in the staff breakroom after hours, but Gold didn’t really care. It gave him an excuse to talk to her, after all.

The suspicious-looking mother and son were coming back. They’d left the store so early this morning, practically before they’d had chance to buy anything, and he hadn’t seen them again. His eyes met the blonde woman’s as they came past, and she narrowed hers, hurrying her son along the pavement and not trying to come in. He wondered if they’d try again when his back was turned. For all Mills was a large shop and took up most of the block, it only had the one entrance, so if they wanted to get in, then they would have to go through him. Gold sighed. He should probably just let them in; it would be his act of Christmas charity for the year. At the same time, though, knowing that someone was living in the store and not doing anything about it was a sure way to get himself fired, and getting fired just a couple of days before Christmas was not something anyone wanted. Maybe he could plead ignorance. Hopefully, whoever they were, they were canny enough not to get caught by someone who wasn’t Belle and didn’t have a kind heart.

The door began to open from the inside and Gold moved automatically to take it. When he saw who was coming out, he very nearly let the heavy glass slam back in his face. Killian, this year’s store Santa, a last-minute replacement for Marco, came out of the building and pulled his beard down, taking a long swig from a hipflask.

“You know that Zelena will pull your innards out if she finds you drinking on the job,” he said conversationally.

Killian just glared. “If I’m outside then I’m not on the job,” he muttered. “You try dealing with hundreds of screaming kids and even more screaming parents.”

As much as Killian rubbed him up the wrong way, Gold did have the tiniest bit of sympathy for him. Christmas always brought out the worst in people. It was a shame that Santa didn’t have a naughty list for adults as well.

Killian continued to stand on the steps beside him. Quite the pair they made, really, Gold in his resplendent uniform and Killian in his ill-fitting red and white suit, reeking of rum.

“The bird on customer services,” Killian said presently. Gold bristled; calling any woman a bird wasn’t great, but especially not Belle. “Do you know if she’s single?”

“I haven’t the faintest idea,” Gold reply through gritted teeth. The seething anger was lost on Killian, who just shrugged.

“Huh. Might try my luck at the party. You know no-one ever gets fired for a bit of bad behaviour under the mistletoe at a Christmas party.” He waggled his eyebrows and Gold glared, opening the door with rather more force than necessary.

“Get back in there before Zelena throws a fit, and for God’s sake find a breath mint somewhere.”

Killian just laughed, but dutifully went back inside. Gold was so angry that he let the blonde woman and her son back into the shop without paying them any mind at all.