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They encountered a typhoon in Okinawa. Outside the glass curtain wall, the Pacific Ocean folded and stretched its billions of tons of deep blue. "Ran, look, we're at the center of the sea." Indeed, before their eyes was the violent backbone of the ocean. In the darkness of the power outage, the emergency lights cast their shadows against the wall. When they held hands, a strange weightlessness made all the fractures of the universe heal in that moment: the disintegration of the breakwater, the coffee stain on her mother's divorce agreement, his disappearance for seven hundred days. Their whispers gently caught each other's tail fins in the swaying, as they stood at the center of the wind, like on the first or last night of the world. All the scattered stars, were slowly swimming back into each other's orbits.
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The hottest delinquent couple
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Cropped out version! (Thank you @quite-a-character for this really cute idea!)
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thx to the artist 宋槿
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thanks to the artist 狸好好好
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steampunk version shinran
thanks to the artist fanxysikis
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When I was communicating with the artist, the story of Cupid and Psyche suddenly came to my mind. So I said that I wanted to see two people pierced by the golden arrow, to see a god bleed for love.
In the end, this was how it turned out, and I really liked the golden blood effect she added.
Thanks to the artist 脱轨子弹
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bought from 圆哩 on mihuashi
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happy valentines day!!!!!!
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tarot-
Judgement & Strength
thanks to:画加-梅林睡醒了
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Ran hadn't dreamed in a long time.
Whatever used to wait for her in the night was now gone.
She lay in bed, staring at the gray-white ceiling. The clock hands moved past three in the morning. She closed her eyes, listening to the wind outside and the rain falling on the rooftop, like echoes of distant waves.
Sometimes she felt like she lived underwater. Her room was a submarine, her father's alcohol breath was the damp scent of soaked metal, and outside her window was endless darkness, with street lights floating in the distance like blurred lighthouse beacons.
Every day she waited for a signal - a reply, a phone call, a chance encounter. But they were all swallowed by the water, like messages in bottles that never reached shore.
Shinichi - she still thought of this name sometimes, in her empty room, during long rainy nights, in all those silent moments no one else would hear.
"Shinichi." No one answered.
She sat up. The calendar on her wall was stuck on some date - she'd forgotten to change it, and couldn't remember when it had stopped. On her desk lay her high school notebook, its cover worn with age. Inside was a photo of someone in a blue uniform, standing by the soccer field with his back to the camera.
She remembered that day clearly. The weather was beautiful, and the wind on the field made Shinichi's white shirt billow slightly. He stood by the goal post and turned to tell her something, but she couldn't recall his words anymore.
She closed the notebook. Her phone screen lit up - a message from Conan: "Ran-neechan, it's raining outside. Get some sleep soon."
She smiled softly.
Outside, the rain continued, like a silent river flowing in the distance. She turned off her bedside lamp, buried herself under the covers, and closed her eyes, listening to the rain tapping against her window. Perhaps tomorrow, the rain would stop.
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My contribution for the Shinran Only zine :]]]
The org never got back to us about posting or physical copies, but it's been half a year since the shinran only event, so I assume it's fine... They did pay for the work, so it's not a scam or anything, but I do feel sad we never got to see the zines, everyone's work was really stunning.
Including the background under the cut because I put my soul into it :D the amount of time I put into looking up references for Narita airport...
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As dusk painted the tiles of Longshan Temple, Shinichi paused beneath the entrance, watching Ran bend down to light an incense stick. The smoke from the incense burner swirled like silk, wrapping around her hair.
He suddenly remembered his height as Conan—back then, he could only look up at her chin. Now he could see every detail, even the faint shadows her eyelashes cast in the twilight. This subtle difference made his throat tighten, like swallowing an undissolved plum candy, its sourness slowly melting into sweetness.
"What are you daydreaming about, Shinichi?" Ran turned around, holding a fortune slip between her fingers. The smile on her lips was brighter than the "Great Fortune" written on the paper. She always took these things seriously—she had even held her breath while shaking the fortune stick container, as if all of fate's weight rested on the trembling of a bamboo stick.
Shinichi took the fortune slip, his eyes scanning the words "Heaven and Earth unite to form a blessed bond." Yet he couldn't help but trace with his peripheral vision the light sheen of sweat on her nose—a detective's observational skills had become sweet torture in this moment.
"The fortune says everything will go well for us..." As she leaned closer, the mix of incense and the citrus scent of shampoo from her. He instinctively stepped back, his lower back touching the stone pillar carved with coiling dragons.
"Afraid I'll give you my cold?" She tilted her head with a soft laugh, pointing at his reddening ears. He turned away, staring at the eaves as he defended himself: "It's just the incense smoke."
Before he finished speaking, the sound of chanting sutras drifted over. Ran suddenly grabbed his sleeve and ran toward the side hall, her footsteps on the stone steps like a string of light drumbeats.
Fragments of golden light filtered through the pillars. She stopped before a statue of the Moon Old Man, the matchmaking deity. As she pressed her palms together in prayer, the red string on her wrist slid to her elbow—it was the charm he had gotten her at Kiyomizu Temple during last year's school trip. The faded knot still stubbornly clung to her snow-white skin.
"I hope the Moon Old Man blesses us..." she whispered with closed eyes. Shinichi suddenly remembered that snowy night when he was Conan, watching her kneel before a shrine praying for his safety.
The gods had written their answer in the rings of time all along.
On their way back through Monga Old Street, Ran stopped at a stall selling traditional malt candy. The elderly vendor greeted them in Taiwanese: "Young man taking good care of his sweetheart!" His flustered fumbling for change made Ran cover her mouth to hide her giggle.
The malt candy stretched into amber threads on the iron scoop. She broke off a piece and offered it to him. The temple bells rang again, and twilight Taipei looked like a slowly cooling lava cake.
As Shinichi lowered his head to take the candy from her palm, he heard her sigh softly: "If only Conan were here too." The crisp sound of candy breaking between his teeth synchronized perfectly with his heartbeat.
He silently folded the remaining candy wrapper into a paper crane—someday, he would make that crane transform back into Kudo Shinichi.
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During their first year of middle school, Ran meticulously fastened the top button of her gym uniform. The changing room was filled with the scent of citrus and rubber gym mats. Shinichi encountered Ran in the hallway, carrying a change of clothes, droplets of water clinging to her collarbone like crystalline dew on a freshly blooming white magnolia. He suddenly noticed the subtle half-inch curve of the women's shirt collar, a small discovery that turned the afternoon's math test paper into a chaotic landscape, with mathematical formulas twisting into the silhouette of her outline.
From what moment did she begin to slowly grow her hair, swaying within the landscape of his young heart? On a rainy day without an umbrella, Ran's hair tips were soaked to a deep chestnut, clinging damply to the back of her jacket. Shinichi caught up with her, his umbrella casting a shadow that perfectly draped over her rain-dampened shoulders. "Be careful not to catch a cold," he said, averting his gaze, yet clearly seeing raindrops sliding down the nape of her neck and into her collar.
Come to his house and dry off, lest Uncle Kogoro scold her. So Ran listlessly crouched at the Kudo household's entrance, wiping the wet hem of her skirt. When Shinichi handed her a towel, he caught a glimpse of her school uniform pressed against her skin, water traces meandering like ancient rivers on a map. He remembered how she once fell into a fountain as a child, her wet floral dress clinging to her knees—something he had found amusing then, but now felt a tightness in his throat.
Outside, wisteria vines swayed in the wind, their shadows precisely grazing her curled ankle. He suddenly realized that every tiny change he had witnessed over the years was like evidence left at a crime scene, testifying to a truth predetermined years ago—scattered hair clips, adjusted ribbons, curled fingertips—all indirect proof of love.
As night fell and he walked her home, he counted the third time she tucked her hair behind her ear. This gesture, like a butterfly effect, seemed to shift the orbit of every star in the universe. And he was willing to be the observer trapped in a Möbius strip, repeatedly falling into the same river of love within an infinite loop of time and space.
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