#Episode One: The Great Detective Turned Small

[detco-hell]

can this guy stop putting unknown things in his mouth Please 🙏

[Episode One: The Great Detective Turned Small]

[heyshinichiran]

[marshmallowgoop]

No matter how special it is, a kid's lunch is still just a kid's lunch.

I dunno, I liked "The Genius Restaurant" (Episode 1,089).

Happy (belated) birthday, Jimjam.

[Song link] [YouTube link]

[lupizora]

So...

The DetCo Episode One OVA...

I don't know where to start from to talk about it. Honestly, I really really liked it!

Like, even though I haven't read the first manga chapter, I'm pretty sure I figured out which scenes were additional material for kicks and giggles to give context to an audience that might be seeing the series for the first time, but also a nod or even fanservise for the long-time fans. Although, some of these cameos were a bit on the nose for me since I knew who the characters were and what role they play in the overall franchise.

I admit, I kinda teared up from hearing the very first opening in the beginning (and having scenes from that same opening during the ending was such a ridiculous nostalgia trip) and I have been going through the series only for a whole year now.

I mean, it was another OVA with almost a movie budget and animation quality like The Two Worst Days in History one. Ran's karate tournament fight was seriously INTENSE! The animators had a lot of fun with it, by the looks of it lol.

But man, I didn't wanna get depressed again over Ran's and Shinichi's relationship. This OVA hammered in the definition of tragic irony, considering I, the audience, knew what was coming after this date. It hurt seeing them pining for each other and being all cute together, only for the plot to happen 😭 I have to say though, it was a bit funny how Shinichi was the one who had the delusional fantasies this time around. They are such dorks *screams into a pillow*

Another thing I found interesting was how Shinichi's voice changed into Conan's voice in his thoughts after the police had taken him to the health center but before he truly saw his reflection in the mirror. Like yeah, the actors probably had to switch anyways, and the fact the original English dub had kept Shinichi's VA narrating Conan's thoughts is the one thing I find cool about that localized dub. But it's fascinating to consider that, in-universe, Shinichi had been hearing his childlike voice as Conan for several hours at least. Maybe that made his inner voice change as he got used to the idea he had shrunk, like some sort of subconscious acceptance of the situation. (another case of me focusing on the most random things it seems) 🤔

At this point, I still don't know how to feel about the BO scenes. Like you have them being all threatening, obviously dangerous and bloodthirsty and then there is that part with Korn and Chianti about the ferry's wheel lmao. Shiho was beautiful as always though, no contest 😊

[screamofdespair]

#49 Diplomat Murder Case (Storyboard : 佐藤 真人 Satō Masato)

#382 Which One's Deduction Show (Storyboard : 荻原 露光 Ogiwara Rokō)

TV SPECIAL #6 : Episode One: The Great Detective Turned Small (Storyboard : 山本 泰一郎 Yamamoto Yasuichirō)

[kolyasupremanxy]

Just watched the latest episode of bsd and seeing little yosano literally broke my freaking heart, so in honor to that I would like to ask for maybe a reader x fukuzawa where reader is like a mom figure and takes care of little yosano and ranpo? Like she is helping fukuzawa collect all those tiny ability users, but only if it's okay for you🫶🏽🥲

I just really enjoy ur writing ❤️

𝐌𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐟𝐢𝐠𝐮𝐫���!𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬 + 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐭 𝐬𝐜𝐞𝐧𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐨 :

𝐅𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 : 𝐅𝐮𝐤𝐮𝐳𝐚𝐰𝐚 𝐘𝐮𝐤𝐢𝐜𝐡𝐢

𝐆𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: fluff

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 0.6k

𝐀/𝐧: Fr that episode was so sad:(. I wanted to add something like comforting Yosano and Ranpo, but I don't know how to comfort someone. So, I decided to dump that idea of mine. Lol (I'm glad u enjoy my writing<33)

Fukuzawa admires and respects his s/o's nurturing and caring nature towards Ranpo and Yosano, and often turns to them for advice on how to handle the two children.

His s/o often takes on the role of a mother figure, providing emotional support and guidance to Ranpo and Yosano as they navigate the dangerous world of ability users.

Fukuzawa is grateful for his s/o's presence in his life, recognizing that their influence has helped shape Ranpo and Yosano into the capable individuals they are today.

His s/o is patient and understanding, knowing how to handle Ranpo's eccentricities and Yosano's occasional outbursts.

Fukuzawa trusts his s/o implicitly, often delegating important tasks to them in regards to the collection and management of ability users.

Despite Fukuzawa's intimidating demeanor, his s/o is not afraid to challenge him when necessary, particularly when it comes to the safety and well-being of Ranpo and Yosano.

Fukuzawa appreciates his s/o's attention to detail and ability to anticipate potential dangers, knowing that they are always one step ahead in protecting the children.

His s/o has a calming effect on Fukuzawa, helping to mitigate his stern and uncompromising nature with their warmth and affection.

Together, Fukuzawa and his s/o make a formidable team, balancing each other's strengths and weaknesses to achieve their goals.

Though their relationship may be unconventional, Fukuzawa and his s/o share a deep respect and love for each other, bound by their dedication to Ranpo and Yosano.

𝐒𝐜𝐞𝐧𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐨 :

It was another busy day at the Armed Detective Agency, and as usual, you were running around taking care of everyone. But today, you had two extra people to look after - little Yosano and Ranpo. They were both so young and innocent, and you couldn't help but feel a maternal instinct to protect them.

As you walked into the office, you saw Fukuzawa sitting at his desk, reading some documents. He looked up when he saw you and gave you a small smile.

"Good morning, my dear," he said, his voice low and calm.

"Good morning, love," you replied, walking over to him and giving him a kiss on the cheek.

You then turned your attention to Yosano and Ranpo, who were sitting at a table, working on some puzzles. You sat down next to them and watched them for a moment, admiring how smart they were for their age.

"Hey, guys," you said, smiling at them. "How's it going?"

"We're doing good," Yosano replied, looking up at you. "We finished all our work."

"Great job," you said, ruffling their hair. "Why don't we take a break and go get some snacks?"

Yosano and Ranpo both nodded eagerly, and you got up to lead them to the kitchen. As you walked, you couldn't help but feel a warm feeling in your heart. You loved taking care of these kids, and you were so grateful that Fukuzawa allowed you to be a part of their lives.

In the kitchen, you helped Yosano and Ranpo make some sandwiches and poured them each a glass of juice. As they ate, you sat with them and listened to them chatter about their day.

After a while, Fukuzawa walked in and sat down next to you. He watched the kids eat for a moment before turning to you and saying, "You're so good with them, my dear. I'm lucky to have you."

You blushed at his words, feeling grateful and loved. You looked back at Yosano and Ranpo, who were now giggling and chatting animatedly, and you knew that you were exactly where you were meant to be.

[wormwoodwine]

Why Gin never lets Vermouth drive?

Gin: I told you to drive my car, not fly my car!

Vermouth: It’s not my fault you can’t handle a little speed.

Gin: A little speed? My car was airborne. It’s the definition of flying.

From chapter 23 of Vineyard.

This is a reference to Vermouth's underrated driving skill.

From Detective Conan - Episode One - The Great Detective Turned Small.

Also, birds of a feather flock together. Here is Yukiko in an almost identical situation.

From Detective Conan Episode 335.

Both Vermouth and Yukiko utilize traffic signals to shirk their pursuers. Let's say there is a reason why they get along so well.

[fuckyeahaudiodrama]

🪸 JULY LISTENS 🪸

(ft. some lovely coral for those of us caught up on The Magnus Protocol😌)

this month, i’ve been working through some of the stuff that’s been languishing on my listen list for approximately a million years as well as revisiting some old favorites. here’s what i enjoyed most in my earholes:

G.O.B.L.I.N.S — (pilot, crowdfunding now!) for fans of Stellar Firma, the Meredith brothers have reunited with some other familiar voices to spin a story about an overly ambitious human office worker who gets dragged through the veil into the fae realm by a pair of chaotic goblins. the show is scripted but it’s marked by the same sense of humor that has characterized the Meredith’s other improvised works. 8 episodes projected if it funds.

Larkspur Underground — (11 eps, complete?) a fictional exposé about the sole survivor of a serial killer’s disturbing abduction and grooming. i was giddy to discover this one as an ardent fan of Showtime’s Dexter. it’s gory and glorious, and if you’re keen you might spot some clues; if not, the final episode is going to shock you. creator wants to make more, but it’s been a few years so who knows.

I Found A Wormhole — (5 eps, complete) a short yet existentially harrowing series. exactly what it says on the tin. mind the content warnings on the final episode but by the time you get there you’ll definitely know what’s coming tbh.

The Grotto — (10 eps, ongoing) a pull-no-punches exploration of messy grief with a supernatural twist. season two is here! this series has an absolutely killer soundtrack and immersive sound design. it has such a unique vibe. you’ll definitely like it if you like WOE.BEGONE.

Dear Bastard! — (16 eps, complete?) an epistolary comedy about a bunch of squabbling neighbors. i like to use this show as a palate cleanser when i’ve been listening to a lot of gruesome horror, because it’s just so light and fun.

Deviant — (10 eps, complete) a space pirate dramedy! i stumbled across this purely by accident and did a little binge. i love an absolute mess of a protagonist, so this was right up my alley. it’s a little abrasive at times but overall i enjoyed the narrative and it wrapped up nicely.

Murphy — (6 eps, s2 in production) a folkloric monster-of-the-week mystery with very charming characters. the first season is complete and although it is short, the episodes are long and make great use of their runtime. pleased to see their recent crowdfunder has been successful so there will be more!

Ghost Wax — (45+ eps, hiatus) a horror anthology facilitated by a “reclaimer” who can extract the final statements of the dead. this is similar to How i Died but the lore feels much more fantastically intricate. i don’t want to spoil too much of the meta plot but there’s a LOT going on, and i’m looking forward to s2.

Fulmar’s Folly — (12 eps, ongoing?) people on reddit love this series so i decided to give it a spin. fans of zombie survival like We’re Alive are most likely to eat this up. it can be a little overwrought at times, but the constant tension feels genuine in context. episodes are quite long but the length feels satisfying and necessary.

Nowhere, On Air — (46 eps, ongoing) another spooky small town radio show about a girl in a world she doesn’t belong to. this is one of my favorite genres of AD. fans of WTNV, King Falls AM, Tiny Terrors, and other shows of that ilk will probably enjoy this. it leans a little more surreal and introspective than comedic. IMHO, the host also just has a lovely voice. the meta plot is currently really hitting its stride.

All In My Head — (19 eps, ???) night terrors turn out to be something much more sinister. so intriguing, i was devastated to realize it may have been abandoned. i’m not going to completely give up hope for a final season though!

Zoinks! — (11 eps, complete?) a darkly comedic homage to scooby doo and other childrens detective fiction. i loved the way the narrative approached the subject of child neglect, while still maintaining a thread of silliness that saved it from complete bleakness. s2 has been mentioned but it’s projected release date has come and gone without a word, so it may or may not happen.

Trice Forgotten — (10 eps, ???) an aspiring cartographer gets accidentally mixed up with some pirates. i relistened to this series in honor of its anniversary and was just blown away by the sound design all over again. the setting is made so rich and alive by the effort put in by the production staff! and the character dynamics are so intricate and gorgeous. i am especially a fan of the tension between alestes and gammon. beautiful first season with SO much left to explore, i really hope to see this come back for a s2 someday.

[imaginesofeverykind]

Witches Brew ~ Chapter 4

Summary: To practice magic is to slight God with the devil's embrace. It is evil, sin, consuming and the price one pays is never worth what one seeks. Yet people, in times of desperation often turn to desperate measures, in Aegon’s case, medicinal remedy is not an option. No healer can undo what has been done. But the Hag tucked away behind reeds, water topped with algae and the voracious bog may be able to. For a price.

Warnings: Blood and Gore, Character Death, catholic-centric monotheism demonised

Tags: DnD Fusion AU, Targaryens are noblefolk, Aegon is a werewolf.

Word Count: 6.1k

Chapter Song: ‘O’Death’ Theme (Until Dawn Soundtrack) - Jeff Grace, Amy Van Roekel

SORRY THIS IS TWO WEEKS LATE !!! I literally got slammed at work two weeks in a row, i did so much OT and im SORRY but here she is yall :’(((((

Series Masterlist

You’re Back. The void bringing a sense of unnerving, and much like it had been the previous time — overstimulated the senses tenfold like a barrage of everything all at once. You move, but there is no feeling of your legs carrying you, just that you have moved from point to point with no memory of getting there. It was a more disorienting form of how you materialize from one place to the other, except in the prime realm you knew where you were going.

Here, there was nothing to determine a position or place other than the faint sense of knowing you weren’t in the same place. A droning of magical song ebbs and flows, louder or softer depending on whichever direction you appear to be going. Perhaps spirits are reaching out or even the Gods, faintly you recall Auntie speaking in hushed whispers whenever she reached out to Syrrelio, God of Blood, and think for a moment that this may be his domain.

Though you wait, there is no voice calling from the great beyond, no divine message flowing through you or even a presence to indicate a greater celestial presence. There was something, however. A beacon of warmth beckoning you in the void, barely detectable but the heat was like being in close proximity of a large fire during a winter blizzard.

Finally, the small glimmer of light sparkles like a flare against the abyssal backdrop of pitch black darkness. At first you think your eyes are playing tricks on you, but it flickers again and there is an instant and urgent pull to go to whatever has your attention. An exit from this madness? Maybe so, but it was an answer you would not get this visit.

A violent and abrupt flash of light from the sun’s spotty beams cutting through the trees of the kitchen window jerk you back to the prime realm. There is a moment of utter confusion as you take in the surroundings with care, the hut remains in tact and in normal shabby condition, but the cause of confusion is that you are standing over the table with a sprig of dried Goodberry clutched in your hands hovering over the Mortar and Pestle.

Strange.

These… episodes… weren’t something brought on by sleeping it seemed. They were involuntary, like someone - or better yet - something was trying to send a message. It was only slightly unnerving to say the least, but shakily you continued on creating the healing brew like you weren’t just psychically accosted by an unseen force or entity.

The days were short but slowly dragged on a little later each day, now that Dead Winter’s Day had been to pass. Snow was still falling in excess, marking a relatively relentless bitter winter as the trees of the swamp withered and the bottle brush shrubs discoloured from frostburn. It wasn’t just the cold that swept through the dreary feeling across the swamp, you could sense that despite restoring Ornmirs shrine it had not settled the spirit.

Her unstable energy seemed to entice more malevolent creatures to the area, Stirges were now the least of your problems.

Your current problem required more attention — this evenings full moon was a mere few hours away judging by the soft sweeping darkness encasing the swamp and Aegon was yet to arrive. Since he started coming to see you he had been relatively punctual, often arriving midday at the earliest or mid-afternoon at the latest but never this close to dark.

It deeply concerned you, more than expected and it only slightly embarrassed you. The deep inner voices within your mind were at a battle, one half expressing urgent distress and beckoning to go and investigate, the other half was trying its best to reason and that there was nothing to worry about.

Today, it seemed, anxiety was much louder than reason. That paired with the unpleasant feeling that twisted inside your gut was reason enough for you to throw on your cloak and disappear into nothing, appearing back in reality inside the Fortress that overlooked Oldtown. He’d be beside himself if he hurt anyone, is what you tell yourself to not feel flustered and to justify why you’re going to him. Deep down you know he cared little for those inside the stony fort, only his siblings had the privilege.

Your hood concealed a great deal of your face and the cloak hid the rest of your attire, aware that you didn’t exactly look like the typical local roaming. It was disturbingly quiet which was odd enough considering it was renowned for housing belligerently loud swordsmen and knights.

And yet, as you cross the courtyard with a purpose it was as quiet as a chapel. Your eyes scanned the few people, some were holy men, some were servants and others were simple folk or traders but not a single notable individual in sight. Time was not on your side, as you give the darkening sky a despondent look before quickly making haste to the West Wing of the building.

Living quarters were located within the West Wing and if Aegon had any sense, he’d have locked himself in his room lest he be set loose to attack any ignorant wanderer. The lack of people around may have been a blessing in disguise, making things easier to lurk around without fear of being caught.

Most of the holy men were headed to the East Wing, where you had to assume the inbuilt chapel was since for the last three corridors you only passed servants who looked at you with curious glances but said nothing or alerted anyone. This corridor in particular inlaid carved stone, a garish green rug trailed from end to end with golden accents and the holy symbol of their false god reminded you how much you despised their religion.

The thought had barely registered in your head, softly stepping on the carpet and past a door that was half open.

”— and what of Aegon?”

Hearing his name pricked your ears and forced you to come to a stop, the voice was raspy, struggling to speak and airy. Viserys, was the first thought that came to your head, shocked slightly at how quickly he sounded to be deteriorating. You lean against the carvings that lined the door, not caring to look up and inspect whatever lavish artistry has been wasted on accenting what amounted to a door hole.

“If I may speak plainly, my Lord… Aegon… he is a sinner.” Another voice, older but more confident. A priest. You think, a holy devoted man. “He has been unfit to take over long before you became ill, you must know this, your Lady wife knows this.”

Your eyes flicker to the window, the sky darkening with each moment, you have little time to waste but find it difficult to step off from the wall you leant against, wanting to hear what was being said while Aegon was absent. From the stories he has vaguely revealed, you piece together that this can’t be very pleasant —.

”—Devil work is at play, are we to ignore what Ser Criston reported back… The hag of the swamp may be gone but she has left a younger in her stead. A younger, might I add that Aegon has been seen visiting every month.” A stern female voice snapped imperiously, ah, you stop to focus, Alicent.

“There is no charge, no proof, we can’t simply abscond the witchling or trial her.” The priest grew weary by the sounds of things. This discussion had been happening for a long while before you happened to stop by and eavesdrop. “Though… we may still be able to help Aegon. A procedure a higher devout can perform, through the word of God, to banish any and all devils that possess a human.”

The silence was thick, almost as though there was a fourth person speaking amongst the three until it was broken, “send one of the stablemen to Durrenden, I want Aegon back here tonight for the procedure. I also want Ser Criston sent to the swamp bitches abode and have her apprehended for maleficium, devil craft, seduction and heresy. She has poisoned my son long enough, I want her burnt in the square.”

A threat against your very being didn’t seem to spark fear within you like it should have, it had quite distinctly the opposite effect, a giddy smirk tugged at the corners of your lips. You’d never been a part of a witch hunt before and it sounded rather exhilarating.

“She is right, I will not have another of my children marr this house with shame. Do what must be done,” Viserys weary and tired seemed to want to put an end to the conversation - or arguing - you weren’t entirely sure.

You make a face, once again feeling that you should be fearful or somewhat scared but instead find the ordeal quite amusing. Mayhaps the confidence in Lady Alicents imperious tone about your persecution was what tickled at your humour. Auntie was sure to have cackled if she were present, but the nagging feeling stirring within drew your smirk down to a thin line.

Aegon could not be taken tonight, that was of utmost importance — The nebulous ‘procedure’ the holy man spoke of did well to cause unease within, if anything about this religion was clear is that many of this belief did horrendous acts to justify and uplift their false idol.

Durrenden. The small village southwest of Oldtown, bordering the edge of the swamp was all you seemed to know of it, not being the one you occasionally pass through for fresh produce. But Alicent’s comment on sending their Holy Knight there gave answer to why the Fortress was so barren of life, as to why Aegon and the swordsmen were down there, remained a mystery.

With little time left you close into yourself, disappearing within a blink and reappearing on the outer edges of the swamp. Durrenden a short walk, silhouetted by the sun that had begun descending behind it, haloing golden edges around the small huts and buildings. Temporary battlements had been set up, tents scattered close to the town's walls and many swordsmen wearing the insignia of their God.

One might think they were ready for war, though you had no time to ask or answer hypotheticals inside your head. Time was running low if the colour of the sky was any indication. Hurried in stride and purposeful with your steps, Durrenden surrounded you quickly with its townsfolk sneering and occasional swordsman wearily casting gazes. None of the strangers blurring past you had violet eyes nor silver locks of hair which caused unsteady panic to brew within, there was a small voice in the back of your mind that cast doubt. What if he was already at the hut? Perhaps he snuck away without anyone seeing him, but the surplus of men and eyes around indicated that the task may be unfeasible.

The steady stream of armored men flowing to and from the village tavern served as a good starting point, remembering Aegon mentioning that he’d sneak into the Howling Keep (a poor mans tavern) in Oldtown. The naming convention humoured you greatly at the time, though Aegon grimaced and looked at you with a deadpan expression.

You push open the Oak doors, not caring for the two patrons you cut off by doing so causing a slight commotion. Everyone within turned their heads and fell silent once their gaze fell on you — from head to toe not a single thing about the attire you adorned or markings drawn into your skin indicated you were a commoner or local.

Scanning the room, your eyes fell on a pair of violet ones, familiar but not Aegon’s. They were deeper violet, one slightly off colour and colder, narrowed down to a cautious glare. Aemond. Dressed in dark leathers, chain mail glinting from beneath the studded black vest with a different insignia. Not a symbol of their God but a house crest. A Three-Headed Dragon.

“Where is he?” You demand, disregarding all others in the tavern, speaking to him as though you were the only two in the room.

He is still for a moment, though you aren’t able to decipher if he’s wanting to argue back or is merely conflicted in aiding you. As far as you were aware he had at least a vague idea of what occurred on full moons, and must know that was the reason for your intrusion. Yet, he hesitates.

Two swordsmen step forward before he holds a hand out and dismisses them, there is a soft grumble in displeasure while he strides toward you. He brushes past you, heading back out the way you came, and you follow quietly behind him. Many of the locals and swordsmen watch with attentiveness, judgment passing through their cold glares as if you were on your way to lead Aemond to eternal damnation right before their eyes.

Neither of you exchange discussion as there was little need to do so, yet the question of why Lord Targaryen’s men were out in Durrenden as though an invasion was due hung at the tip of your tongue. It never passes your lips, even as he leads you to one of the larger tents, the same house crest embroidered on the tent door.

Inside, unlike sleeping quarters like you anticipated to see, there sat a large cage manned by a single guard. Within it, Aegon sat slumped against one of the bars in some type of drunken stupor though his pained groans carried to your ears instantly. The cage is far too large for something like a lycanthrope, your first thought followed by, they’re going after Ornmir.

Your question was finally answered but there was much too little time to reprimand Aemond and the men of the battalion. In a quick sweep, you fade from beside the younger brother and appear beside Aegon who hadn’t quite processed your arrival just yet. “Apologies, we must make haste — I don’t have time to explain,” your voice is softer than you expected, voice cradling him as though he were an injured animal.

He looks up at you, eyes half lidded but attentive when they search your face. Sweat beaded down his forehead, down past his flushed cheeks, “bumble,” he whispers in a drunken slur and it takes you a moment to realize he is addressing you.

“I’ve nothing to give for the pain,” you fumble with the pouch on your belt before gently placing a hand at the base of his neck to cradle his head and the other to grip his arm tightly. You cast a pointed look at Aemond before your surroundings fade away, no longer encaged and inside a tent but now surrounded by dozens of trees on an old faded trail. The furthest south of the Swamp, knowing it was too risky to return to the hut.

It seemed as though you had mere minutes to spare, the sky no longer streaked with orange and yellow, completely covered in darkness with the moon rising over the horizon.

***

Faint mildew and damp earth fill your nostrils as you awaken, there is initial panic when your eyes fly open to surroundings that weren’t the decrepit interior of your abode. Condensation dripping from rocky walls subtly glimmering in the flickering light of a waning lantern, you are reminded where you have taken temporary refuge.

Everywhere ached, the muscles around your shoulders and neck yearned for some tension release while your legs felt stiff from a night of keeping the wolf entertained. Surprisingly, Aegon being inebriated hadn’t done much to effect the transformation or behaviour from your observations aside from a comment he made after dawn broke and he laid on the swamp ground, chest rising and falling after shakily becoming normal again.

“My fucking head,” was all he groaned before promptly passing out. A massacred hand resting atop his forehead as though that would do much to alleviate his pain.

Now, his breaths were simple and consistent like any other noise within the deep cave you chose as sanctuary. His head rested on your lap for lack of a proper bed for him to rest and gain some strength back — at least that's what you tell yourself. Nevermind you are aimlessly combing fingers through his hair, detangling the ends riddled with sweat and blood.

It must have been mid afternoon when he stirred awake, eyes fluttering open to take in the surroundings. You had half expected him to sleep for the entire day and well into the night, looking down on him you offer a smile in the dimly lit cave. A flourish of one hand and murmur an incantation, materialising four orbs of light that float nearby to brighten the area.

“You came for me,” He croaks, voice crackly no doubt from straining it the night prior, turning his head in your lap to look up at you. The first thing he says is not to question where you had taken him, he trusted you without question and this statement wasn’t lost on you whatsoever.

There was something very innocent in the moment and perhaps it had been the fact you were still raking fingers through his hair despite it had long been detangled.

Casting your gaze downward it was becoming increasingly more difficult to ignore the feelings that stirred within, no matter how hard you tried to reason that it was something else entirely. You cared for him. The revelation should not be one that is shocking, half a year in tending to him would indicate this truth and yet it still shook you to the core.

Loneliness was a bitter thing, you had plenty of loneliness over the course of your life that it seem only fair to rid yourself of it.

”An unfortunate twist in fate has me caring for you, it seems,” you admit dryly, feeling lighter and less wound up upon saying the words aloud. “A most ill-fated outcome considering it is I who put this burden on you.” A sardonic smile mocking your own misfortune, of course it would be fated that the cure to loneliness would be in the form of a man you had inflicted a most painful blight upon.

He is silent for a moment, so still that you'd have thought he fell back asleep if it weren’t for his attentive violet eyes looking up at you, he finally says, “I tried to leave them at the road before Durrenden — They wouldn’t let me.”

”So they encaged you?”

“No,” he smiles meekly, “that was after I stole two carafes of wine from our reserve.” A flash of something must have passed through him causing the corners of his lips drop, eyes suddenly dimming with resignation as he looks away for the first time, “I thought if I was too drunk to feel anything I wouldn’t be in pain.”

Stupid. You admonish silently, but your chest tugs at the words of a man who simply wishes for the pain to fade. It was the first time you considered that he isn’t just talking about the pain of transformation. Without jostling him around too much, you reach into the small pouch off to the side and pull out a small phial, the best you can offer considering you weren’t in the hut.

After passing it over to him wordlessly you sigh and look around the cave, “your family’s Knight was sent to fetch you, the holy man mentioned to your mother a procedure to ‘purge you of sin’.”

”You went to the castle?” He asks, sitting up as though he were startled by the notion. Wincing at the sudden movement, he steadied himself on the wall beside you. At some point between your fated first meeting and now, he stopped complaining or questioning whenever you handed him things to consume. Since there was little resistance when you handed him a small bottle of sanguine liquid.

”To look for you,” a simple answer and yet it still caused your stomach to flutter, “your mother seems to be of the belief I have corrupted you with devil work… I wasn’t aware she was so… pious.” As amusing as a witch hunt sounded to you yesterday, it felt more cumbersome in reality and you had only really been forced into hiding for a mere day.

Your words struck him as amusing, a dry laugh falling from his cracked lips and you curse yourself for not thinking to get water amongst the hubbub of yesterday. “In the bigger picture, you have done little to push me into the devil’s clutches, my lady.” He addresses you, as if a highborn and not a witch of the woods or at the very least; a Commoner. The phrase catches you by surprise, so much so there is a physical reaction akin to a slight recoil. It sounded foreign to hear it, but you didn’t hate it.

A connection in your head seems to click, instantaneously dismissing what you were going to say about what he called you and in comes a flood of thoughts so incredibly obvious that you are almost ashamed to say anything about it now. But, your mouth moves much quicker than your mind and a sharp, “oh gods,” falls from your lips.

He stares at you, looking embarrassed as if you were lambasting his choice of words but that couldn’t be further from the truth. “I might — well it is possible to relieve you of this curse but the chances may not be in our favour.” It wasn’t some magical cure out of nowhere and it wasn’t without risks involved but if done right it could be done.

There’s confusion etched into his facial features, for that you couldn’t blame him, “but this is a blood curse —,”

”It is not a cure, per se…” Trying to find the words seemed difficult, especially ones that wouldn’t be insensitive, “if you recall this ailment was imparted onto Aemond and I moved the curse. Blood curses attach themselves to the essence of a person which is why they can be moved to family members — which is why I could rid him of it.”

”Be that I dislike my brother, I do not wish for him to suffer monthly —“

“Sibling blood is closer entwined than other familial relatives but much like I restored Aemonds eye, I could attempt to move the curse to someone else… someone who is already on the cusp of death.” It would be all too easy to say his name aloud, but there was a part within your aware conscience that felt it rather evil for suggesting second hand patricide.

Though you needn’t say his name, Aegon understood wholeheartedly, “Viserys.” Not ‘Father’, not a hint of endearing or love in his tone. The relationship between father and son had long severed before you had waylaid the noble family with magic interference all those months ago. It may have not been your intent to send the Lord to an early grave, the fates seemed to have planned for it anyway.

You just hoped they planned for him to suffer one last time.

There was an already inherent distaste for the man, one that was imparted to you from Aunties bias but it only increased tenfold when Aegon would regale you with stories of how absent and horrible of a man Viserys seemed despite the public opinion being otherwise. How does a man have five children and only care for one? Even for that one child, the care presents as thinly veiled kindness at best from what you’ve heard.

He mulls over the idea, you can sense his hesitancy to answer and it is something you don’t hold over him considering what you are suggesting could be coercive murder in the eyes of the church.

“Forgive me, if I spoke out of turn.” You say softly, smiling at him as if silently understanding the conflict within him. If anyone had been present to hear such blasphemy you were most definitely not avoiding the accusations of being a harbinger of chaos and devil whisperer.

”No,” he shook his head, there was uncertainty in whether he was denying your suggestion or if he disagreed that you’d stepped over a line. Even you were self aware enough of how bad it sounded, but over the course of half a year the two of you seemed to slowly understand the inner machinations of one another enough to know when something was laced with malicious intent or not. While he understood to a degree your distrust and ire toward the head of his family, he has never had reason to believe that you worked with an ulterior motive. Initially, perhaps, but now? No.

”I want to say yes,” he begins, a pained look within his eyes laden with guilt, “but what option remains for me? I am his eldest son. He is destined to pass, sure. But my path lay already ahead of me. To become Lord of the city regardless of if I’m afflicted by a curse or not. This —,” he gestures to himself, riddled with grime and filth, “— this is physical pain but no matter my options I will suffer.”

The strain in his voice gave quite a clear indication that he was hesitant to be so vulnerable, not for a lack of trust, it seemed as though the cause for his trepidation simply grew from a lack of someone around to listen to his complaints. You tactfully reach over and clasp his hand. Entwined it was easy to see how the dirt and muck complimented one another on each hand with wayward splatters and streaks like paintings on parchment.

He seldom spoke of duty, opting to spit in the face of it whenever the topic broached but you knew what lay ahead of him when the inevitable arrival of death comes to consume Viserys. A strange custom, you noted. Many families had long abandoned succession through eldest offspring, a handful of Lords (Targaryens included) seemed to keep the tradition, whether it be in honour of tradition or it aligned religiously though you were unsure of.

To be a Lord and be ailed with something as unforgiving as Lycanthropy would become harder to hide, a bigger burden, one that would turn the devout folk on him in an instant. Public opinion on the man beside you, already sat lower than the other siblings, in a cruel string of fate it almost feels as though he were destined to fail.

“But you are second to oldest, what of your sister?” You ask.

“Rhaenyra?” His voice was laced with surprise, he spoke very little of her and though you never prodded further there was uncertainty of if he held disdain toward her and that had been the reason for his little mention of her or if there was something else. “He may love her more than the rest of us but she will never inherit after what she’s done to the family.”

I will not have another of my children marr this family with shame. Viserys had said this the previous day, now with context it seemed to make sense. You were in no position to question further and you didn’t, though little pieces of information you’d gathered over the months fell into place, albeit disjointed but nonetheless sensical.

The oldest of the siblings, born to a different mother was free-spirited and rather outspoken, if the rumours of the common folk were to be believed then she ran off with Viserys’ brother and her Uncle for love. You’d initially taken the slighted gossip with a pinch of salt but could think of no other reason Rhaenyra could bring shame to such a proud and religious family.

You spare Aegon a look, not pitiful or full of sorrow and despair but one that was at least hopeful.

“If you ever wish to disappear, far from here, say the words and I will make it happen.” A grim solution, but it was the only thing you could think about that would keep Aegon’s conscience intact with the least amount of bodies in the process.

“Threat of death? After all this time? Here I was beginning to think you tolerated me,” he found it within himself to jest, a smile on his lips that etched into your mind long after he turned away sullenly, “I couldn’t… I can’t leave them.”

The unspoken burden of the oldest remaining sibling weighs heavy on him, you have come to learn many things about Helaena and Daeron in passing comments or quips. Aemond fiercely sits in the peripheral of your thoughts often when you think of Aegon and wonder how different things may have been if you didn’t help Aemond.

“I tolerate you no more than a crocodile tolerates a drowning wildebeest in his river,” you jest, suppressing a coy smile. You squeeze his hand reassuringly and as if responding to a question, he squeezed yours in return. “Threat of death is not so awful, death is not the end we believe it to be,” you muse, eyes cast down the expansive cave mouth, a very characteristically cryptic moment from you.

Down the cave, a seemingly tiny dot in the distance was your only indicator of an exit, a light that specified the sun's bright rays was what awaited you when it was time to leave the soggy cavernous hole.

Deep rumbling shudders through the cave, a great force rippling through the ground no different to how an earthquake unmistakingly rips through the earth indiscriminately. Though it is a force of nature, it is not what one might think as queit relief washes over you. Aegon looks to you in search of an answer or reaction, you remain unbothered and look to him with a sincere smile, “you’re a good man, Aegon… I only wish for others to see you the way I do.”

He is stunned a moment, possibly wondering where that came from as you were thinking the same but he looks past you and back nervously, “this isn’t the moment where you leave me at the mercy of whatever thing has crawled in here?”

You laugh and shake your head, a sound so foreign to even you it was a wonder how you managed to share a space with Auntie who was decidedly humourless for so many years. “This cave may be Ornmir’s own domicile but she won’t hurt you, and I won’t leave you here either… I believe it isn’t safe to return to the hut. Your holy knight might still be on the lookout for you and I’d prefer you rest before I release you back to those den of wild dragons.”

What you wanted to say more than anything was, stay, stay here with me and never go back to the wretches who seek to ruin you. But it was hard, hard to even admit that first and foremost and hard to be so vulnerable with someone. Auntie kept you at arms length always as if preparing you for the inevitable time she left you, feeling attached to someone always seemed forbidden.

But with Aegon, it was easy. So easy it was terrifying.

“What are you thinking about?” He asks quietly, when you turn to him his eyes are already trained on your face as if trying to pry into your very thoughts.

The words can’t form in your mouth, the admission that perhaps loneliness wasn’t what fulfilled you any longer refused to leave your mouth so you search for another answer quickly. Despite not finding a way to express your inner thoughts you find your body leaning in toward him, hands cupping the sides of his face and pressing your forehead against his in a manner that was more intimate than expected.

Noses brushing against one another, your eyes look down at the curve of his cheeks from the smoothest point to where his stubble had started to break through.

“Let me make this right,” you promise, thumbs brushing softly over his cheeks, “the least I can do is try and take away the curse I put on you. I cannot cure the ailments of the future but I can undo my own wretched infliction.”

“Okay,” he breathes out in a voice so small you wouldn’t hear it if it weren’t for his breath lightly fanning your face. “What about you?” He asks almost painfully, and you selfishly think it’s at the thought of the monthly visits coming to a stop.

”You are no stranger, I wish for you to visit on your own terms, not because you’re forced too.”

“Okay.” He says again, hands coming up to sit atop yours over his face.

The two of you remain there for an uncertain amount of time, you don’t fully recall disengaging from the embrace but you do. Quietly going over the plan for the evening, you stated many times throughout that the likelihood of success was slim and the results wouldn’t bear its fruit until a month away, but you’d be damned if you were going to at least try.

Aegon assured you he was well rested and in fact argued he should accompany you. Him joining was not the problem, it was the prospect of his mother or holy knight finding him before you could finish the ritual. There was little else you could do to convince him otherwise as he held onto your hand firmly when you whisk the both of you away through darkness and into the Fortress.

Night had fallen a couple of hours prior, the sun no longer commanding the skies but the moon. Her rays of silver cascaded through stained glass and created prismatic shapes of colour on the carpet below your feet as they quietly roamed the West Wing corridor together. Aegon still held onto your hand.

Much like it had been the day prior, it was desolate bar from the occasional servant who eyed the two of you but made no comment or haste to alert anyone.

“Aransmore wrote to us about their cattle getting eaten and the farmers being terrorized by a great beast in the swamp… that is why we set for Durrenden.” Aegon whispered cautiously, you had guessed he felt as though he owed you some degree of explanation for why the castle was bare and Durrenden had so many swordsmen.

”Yes.. Ornmir… She’s — She’s still angry and I am unsure what the cause is. Her shrine has been repaired yet there is an ire that remains present. I shall visit her again in time…once this has been settled,” you nod at him, quietly responding.

Once outside a large set of oak doors, gilded gold edging and embellishments, there was little mystery left at who lay in the chambers beyond them. Neither of you make the first move, both merely staring at the door as if it would open on its own accord.

You look over at Aegon, “we need not go through this, if you wish it so.”

“No,” he says softly, looking down, then back up to the door, “no I want to.” His voice is hardened, more determined and you wish more than anything you could read his thoughts but you turn away and nod.

He surprises you more, taking the first step forward but you are the one who opens the door. Both of you have an unspoken kinship bred from months of understanding each other slowly.

The room is dark, save for the silver light of the moon cascading through the open window. Despite the cool breeze flowing through, the room stank distinctly of mold and must, as though the windows had been sealed shut for years. Your eyes settle on Viserys, the first time you’ve seen him since ailing him with his son's mangled eye. He was less man than he was rot, you decided, the cause of the smell being him.

Half of his face blackened with necrosis, the infection taking a rather nasty turn. The leeches on his face had no more incentive to keep eating away at the flesh, not when it had shrunk down to the bone and exposed part of his skull. It was grotesque, really, but your face remained unmoved as you stood beside the bed and looked down at him. Only then did your face twist into something unpleasant.

You turn to Aegon, face pulled to a frown that half indicated disgust, nostrils slightly flared and eyebrows crossed together into a sullen expression. “He’s dead.” You say, defeatedly.

You were too late.

Tag List (lemme know if you wanna be tagged :D)

@karlachs-soldier @serving-targaryen-realness @deltamoon666 @bogbutteronmycroissant @heavenly1927

[spasmsofthought]

still waters (scott forrester x f!reader)

Hi!! FBI International is one of my favorite shows and Scott Forrester has intrigued me from the start. I know this is a small fandom, but it's a show that brings me great joy. Something about episode 3x6 just really hit me and I ending up writing this. Please like, comment, & reblog! Enjoy!! xoxo

+++

"If this doesn't get better fast," You mutter just over your breath. "I'm going to end up punching someone."

There's not enough volume to your statement for Detective Novak to overhear, but it slips out just loud enough that Scott perks up and turns his gaze towards you as he walks by you on his way down the hallway. You barely succeed in covering the dark look you were about to throw the Czech officer.

He raises his eyebrows, "Do I need to send you out on a walk too?" His hand points in the direction Vo just went out of the local precinct, following his orders to cool off.

You can't help it. It's not as if you can shut your feelings off and just be analytical about this. Cameron may be running point on this case because of her own experience in helping assault survivors and her newly, and rightly earned, seniority on the Fly Team, but you have just as much stake in this developing case as her. There's a reason Scott made sure you were here with him and Vo and not with Raines or Garretson.

Detective Novak chooses to make her exit silently as she passes around you and Scott.

You breathe out a heavy exhale and hold his gaze for a moment, "No."

You lean back for support as cross your arms and bend one of your legs to put your foot against the wall and stare at the green paint across from you. Disassociating is better than letting tears cloud your vision. Anything is better than getting sucked into that black hole again.

Scott steps into your space instead of retreating, forcing you to place your foot on the ground and straighten your posture. He takes another step forward until there is very little space between the two of you.

"I know that you lead with your heart," His voice is just barely over a whisper and brushing against your cheeks. His focus on you is intense and all-consuming. "But right now, I need your head in this too."

"There's a reason I never completed my J.D.," You begin. His gaze doesn't waver. Scott is dialed in on you. You remember what your mother used to say to you as a girl, Still waters run deep, darling. You haven't even begun to reach the bottom of him yet. "I went with law enforcement because I know how easy it is for a girl like Ali to get lost in the red tape. I'm less frustrated with the fact that rape and assault laws are criminally behind here and more frustrated with the fact that I come from a country that doesn't hold the moral high ground. Change a few details and circumstances, and we're in the States on the same 'ole merry-go-round with the same kind of ending."

You take a breath. There's a moment of silence as Scott looks at you, somehow knowing that you aren't finished.

"And as much as you empathize, as much as you apply your knowledge from working cases like these for years, you will never 100% understand what it will mean for Ali when you go in there and tell her that her only two options are to either be arraigned for assault and kicked out of a country before she receives the justice she is owed or take down a social media post that is her only viable option for recourse right now."

You squeeze your eyes shut and bring your palms against your face for a moment. You feel Scott lean in. You push the tears back, but they linger just slightly.

When you open your eyes, his face is just centimeters away, "I get that this is our only move right now, but we're supposed to be pushing for better options now. We're supposed to be breaking ground, not just calling out the breaks in the pavement and watching someone else trip over them."

One of Scott's hands lightly brushes over your hair, trailing around your ear and then landing on your shoulder for a second. "I know."

He reaches down to squeeze your hand, "I know."

You breathe the same air for a solitary moment before you both know you need to move onto your responsibilities.

"I'll call Andre and Megan and update them." You nod at him, moving to step away, but he holds you against him for one heartbeat, two. Your breath catches.

"We'll talk next steps after I discuss with Ali."

"Okay."

"Okay," Scott says. His thumb brushes against the fabric of your trousers resting on your waist before he steps back and makes his way down the hallway to Ali's cell.

You give yourself a moment to breathe.

[ladylilithprime]

= Suptober2024 Masterpost =

Well, it's definitely been a wild ride across several different pairings and a few different continuities, new and old! Every story will be going up on AO3 in between my work on Novelember, but here is the big collective Masterpost of all of the fics (with notes about continuity and content warnings) that I managed to write over the course of October. Since apparently the Great Pumpkin decided to bring me the gift of being able to write smut this year, the stories with "lemonade stand content" will be marked with a 🍋 [lemon emoji]. Please click responsibly!

Day 1: Autumn

Sastiel. Castiel takes a moment to appreciate the promise of the day and the one with whom he gets to share it.

Day 2: Spa Day

Sastiel. Sam gives Castiel a manicure, and Castiel has no time for Dean's more chauvinistic attitudes.

Day 3: Royalty

Sastiel, follow-up to Day 2. Castiel gives Sam a massage.

Day 4: Birthday

Gen, implied Sastiel. Canon-compliant, including the Finale. Sam really doesn't like celebrating his birthday for a lot of reasons.

Day 5: Scars

Sastiel, picks up from Day 3. It's Castiel's turn to get the royal massage treatment.

Day 6: Electric

Sastiel, prelude to Day 7. A case turns out not to be a case, leaving Sam and Castiel with a paid for motel room and a whole night of unexpected free time. No lemons yet, but the lube makes an appearance.

Day 7: Thankful 🍋

Sastiel, direct follow-on to Day 6. Castiel lays Sam out on the bed and gives thanks for the feast he is being given to enjoy. While the author is of the opinion that this is exactly the sort of content one should read in church, your respective clergical staff may not agree.

Day 8: Witch's Brew

Sastiel. Castiel eventually notices that Sam prefers tea to coffee and goes about ensuring his beloved can enjoy it more often.

Day 9: Moon

Pre-Wincest, set in the werewolf!Sam'verse, Dean's POV of finding out his brother isn't as innocent, or as human, as he used to be. Sam's POV is Day 28.

Day 10: Mushrooms

Jamstiel, set in the Grand Not-Coven of Palo Alto series. Witch!Sam and his familiar, Bones, take hunter twins Jimmy and Cas Novak on a foraging expedition.

Day 11: Myth

Sastiel, wherein Sam is Hades, Persephone is the name of Castiel's vessel, and the story of their meeting and getting together has a lot less kidnapping.

Day 12: Harvest Festival

Sastiel. Sequel to With Festive Airs Attending from the 2017 Sastiel Love Week. Companion to Day 30. Sam and Castiel go back to the Autumn Festival where they had their first date.

Day 13: Monster Mash

Wincest, set in the werewolf!Sam'verse after Day 19 but before Day 23. A werewolf, a hunter, and an Angel of the Lord walk into a bar to meet up with an Archangel hiding as a pagan god.

Day 14: Fave Episode

Swesson. Dean Smith is a very successful VP of Sales and Marketing, but he's kind of an idiot about his crush on the hot IT guy.

Day 15: Sigils

Inspired by Somebody Else's Thanksgiving by @posingasme , wherein Castiel is determined to warn Sam and Dean about Heaven's deceit and Sam has an unorthodox plan to derail the Apocalypse.

Day 16: Falling

Sastiel. Snapshot within the beginning of Day 31. Home repair is occasionally hazardous. Castiel has falling trauma.

Day 17: Wings 🍋

Sastiel. Follows Day 7, wherein Chekhov’s Lube from Day 6 makes its return appearance.

Day 18: Family Business

Gen, background Jamstiel. Set in the Fearie Court of Avalon, NJ series. Sam is a half-faerie prince, Cas and Jimmy Novak are his husbands, and Jack is their adopted selkie son. Summer break is looming and Jack's plans are apparently less foregone than some people thought.

Day 19: Dark & Stormy Night

Pre-Wincest (Sam is on board but Dean is oblivious), set in the werewolf!Sam'verse after Days 9 and 28 but before Day 13. Wolves don't like thunderstorms any better than small boys.

Day 20: Limbo

Sastiel, set in the Familiar'verse. Sam Winchester is a lawyer and practicing witch. Detective John Castiel Novak is a cat shapeshifter and Sam’s familiar. Dean Winchester officially works for the FBI as a hunter community liaison.

Day 21: Cozy Treats

Sastiel. Set after Day 4. Actual Curtain Fic. Finale-compliant, with fem-vessel!Castiel as the Blurry Wife.

Day 22: Ladies

Donnamelia. Takes place in the Faerie Court of Avalon, NJ series. Donna Hanscum is a selkie sheriff. Amelia Everett Richardson is a veterinarian specializing in magical animals and animal forms. Matthew Pike is their foster son and best friends with Jack Kline Winchester, who is the adopted son of the faerie whose magic helped Amelia transition in exchange for her first born child– Amelia’s suggestion. The child’s sire is either John Castiel Novak or James Constantine Novak, who are twins and Sam’s husbands, and donated their sperm to the cause by way of artificial insemination. Bechdel test compliant.

Day 23: Fever 🍋

Set in the werewolf!Sam'verse, approximately mid-season 3. Sam and Dean are pledged to Loki, and Sam didn’t die at Cold Oak. No demon deal, no looming Apocalypse. Full-blown Wincest ahoy!

Day 24: Branded 🍋

Set in the werewolf!Sam'verse. Immediate Part 2 follow-up to Day 23. Wincest and lemony goodness ahoy!

Day 25: Parody

Gen...ish? Apologies to Edgar Allen Poe. I had a plan, and then Dean decided to be a jerk.

Day 26: Enchanted

Sastiel. Features Castiel's true form, magical artifacts, and the perils of a patriarchal secret society. While sex is discussed, none occurs within this narrative. Will be expanded later.

Day 27: Prayer

Wincest. Set in the werewolf!Sam'verse. Immediate follow-up to Day 13, before Day 23. Asking Dean to pray is a bad idea.

Day 28: Graves

Pre-Wincest. Set in the werewolf!Sam'verse, concurrent with Day 9 and before Day 19. Sam's POV of the events of Day 9 and how he became a werewolf.

Day 29: Blue

Phoenix and Dragon'verse. Established Samichael, pre Casamichael. So. Many. Angel wings~

Day 30: Nostalgia

Dean-centric, background Sastiel. Companion to Day 12. Dean gets to kick back by himself for a bit while Sam and Cas are on their "couples retreat".

Day 31: Halloween/Costumes

Sastiel. Set in the same continuity and after Day 16. Curtain-ish fic.

Enjoy!

[detco-hell]

move over dork

[Episode One: The Great Detective Turned Small]

[marshmallowgoop]

And I'm just a little messed up I'm a little out of my head

[Song link] [YouTube link]

[lupizora]

I just remembered, I had one more thing to say about the DetCo Episode One OVA.

Do you think the Tropical Land guards ever filed a missing person's report for the weird elementary kid they found that day?

Like it's established that Conan has no official documents proving his existence anywhere. But it's a bit bizarre to me that no one bothered to search for him after he disappeared from Tropical Land. Shouldn't the fact an unidentified child appeared at the place where they supposedly killed Kudou Shinichi had tipped off the BO somehow? 🤔

[iamumbra195]

I was watching the movie that expands on the first episode called the Great detective turned small like the case at the very beginning and why Gin and Vodka were there. We even have scenes for Amuro, Chianti and Korn and Kir gets a little cameo as a reporter who talks about Shinichi in the beginning of the first episode

But anyways back to my point. I love this movie because for a second, idk if I'm just overanalyzing, it looked like Shinichi actually teared up, overwhelmed by all the shit that happened to him all at once and that has to be my favourite thing ever cause he rarely ever cries or shows emotion beyond anger, desperation or just being a snarky bitch. Obviously he's happy and stuff but I mean emotion as in him genuinely being overwhelmed because I promise you I would've been having a whole breakdown after all the shit he went through in like a few hours.

Like he saw someone get decapitated (Idc what he said, he might have been desensitized to murders but that's sure as hell gonna stick in his head, the blood literally squirted all over him and Ran) then he solved the case, comforted Ran, ran after the suspicious dude he saw before, saw do a whole blackmail deal while talking about some shady organization, got hit on the head hard enough that it effected his memory and he was barely aware of what was going on, got fed a drug, felt like he was burning alive, thought he was going to die, woke up as a little kid and no one is believing a single thing he's saying, almost got sent to a child care center which is a little disaster in Japan search it up, got chased by the police like a criminal with huge as dogs as well, couldn't call Ran because he knew she wouldn't believe him as well, ran home in the rain, and then almost got run over by a truck.

Like. Dude needs so much therapy for that single night, not to mention all the other shit that happens and the truck load of trauma he's going to be faced with for next year or however long canon has been. Yeah, that's crazy.

My guy deserves more than a little tear up, I need to see him cry for once

[sattosugu]

Case Closed - Episode One Special - The Great Detective Turned Small 

Favorite Antagonist - Gin (Black Organization)