Since I wanted to share a few works of mine here's my last ShinRan fic's rough translation. It's called "Do you remember that sunset?" and were inspired by "Eternal Eternity" from Sailor Moon. So it some references to that song.
I'm really sorry for all the grammar mistakes or strange phrases (if there's so), I'm not good at English.
Fluff!
“Do you remember the first sunset we saw together?”
'I'll never forget that' Shinichi almost said. Even if he lived forever, he would never be able to forget the glitter of the setting sun and the gentle smile of little Ran. They were sitting on his bed and looked out the window, just like now, but when they were seven years old. When Ran's mother left her with Kudo’s.
Shinichi just took a look at the pale Ran to guess why. Kogoro and Eri's quarrel again. Each time stronger than the previous one. Each time, Ran stood aside and twirled her favorite pocket mirror in her hands.
Ran hoped it would stop. That two or three quarrels would be enough, but she had to cry more and more. Everything is not the same as it used to be - it's a new truth, it's hard to accept. Only Shinichi's sad look remained unchanged.
Shinichi could feel his anger growing. Two adults couldn't be so stupid. He couldn't move away from Ran in those years. Shinichi covered Ran with his small hand. The icy gaze of his eyes hurled spears at his negligent parents.
Even if it was late at night and his mother told him to not worry, he would dive under the covers with his phone, knowing that Ran couldn't sleep. He didn't talk about Holmes, he didn't bother Ran with detective stuff he loved. He listened to everything Ran had to say to her father and mother. Their mothers were angry tomorrow, and two children laughed together, discussing yesterday's events.
Ran grumbled with him and Sonoko about everything that happened, everything she wanted to say. Resentment, discontent, loneliness, everything that had accumulated in her young soul. Sonoko promised that she would take her with him to unwind at the sea, she was about to persuade her parents. Shinichi promised to go with them, even if he knew that the three children would never seriously go anywhere.
Days and months passed. Spring came after winter as well as new year at school. Shinichi remembered the terrible wind that tore off Ran's favorite hat. He remembered the tall tree he had climbed for it and the bruise he had received. Ran’s quiet "thank you" was all he wanted at that moment.
To Ran, every day seemed like an eternity. Every word of the parents brought the quarrel closer. One day is like another, and time has passed without waiting for Ran.
Ran, Mouri's only daughter, was left alone. She could spend the whole evening playing toys, plugging her ears with headphones to hide from her parents' quarrel, but, in an instant, she would inevitably grab her phone.
Through her tears, she searched for Shinichi's number, trying to catch his first or last name. She accidentally mixed it with Yukiko’s, but Yukiko understood Ran. She promised to persuade Eri to keep Ran with them.
It was easy for her. Shinichi didn't expect that in a few minutes he would see Ran in the living room with a small bag in her hands. As soon as their eyes met, Ran rushed to him. She wanted to see him so badly.
To hear his carrying words to her again. If Shinichi is around, if she could touch his arm, there are two of them. It's not scary if they’re together.
They enjoyed the sky. Yukiko scolds them, but tomorrow, now, the sunset is important. Shinichi squeezed Ran's hand. "You can count on me, Ran, always," Shinichi smiled. His cheeks flushed. Ran didn't need to know that this phrase was from a romance novel.
"Whatever happens?” Ran hesitated, but Shinichi squeezed her hand without the slightest hesitation. He was able to find Ran when they were playing hide-and-seek. And he believed that he would solve all the riddles if it saved her.
"I'm sure. No matter how much time passes, I'm there. It doesn't matter when," he whispered phrases from books. He said every one he could remember, just to make Ran smile. And he was telling the truth, even if it was like this.
And Ran believed. I believed that Shinichi would be there. He will be the one who comes if it is bad, as it is now. As always. As if it were meant to be. As if it was meant to be. Ran could rely on him.
"Lean on me," Ran whispers softly at the end of the sunset. Their slight smiles... A difficult moment that brought them together. Since that sunset we've always been together.
"Still, you lied to me," Ran sighed, noticing that Shinichi’s flashbacks ended. He pouted. "I've been waiting for you for a year, but you...”
"I'm sorry," Shinichi averted his eyes. I knew that ‘I'm sorry’ is not enough. After all, he was there all the time, unable to let go of Ran. While she didn't get more than a phone call.
"I don't know how I didn't figure it out," Ran was smiling now. Forgiveness had to be earned, but it was worth her gaze and their intertwined fingers. It was all worth it. "Conan-kun's hand was like yours... As if deep in my heart I knew...”
"I've gone crazy every time," Shinichi wasn't lying. Every tear Ran shed was his pain. The pain of an idiot who believed he could protect Ran like this. "Your gaze spoke more than words," he sighed. A sad question that had stuck in his head burst out. "Don't you regret forgiving me?"
"No," Ran smiled slyly. This is his first serious mistake. And the remorse in his eyes is enormous. “We have a long way to go. And I want to go through it with you, this time together. Like back then.”
"Together," Shinichi whispered. A single word breathed more warmth than the setting sun. "Together," he repeated, squeezing his hand on Ran's shoulder.
They seemed to be back in childhood among that similar seven-years-old days. Again, the sunset they met together. A sunset that they noticed separately in their rooms when they did not want to fall asleep. Their shared moment is timeless.
"I haven't told you that I missed you yet?" Ran chuckled. Shinichi didn't have to ask. He could see it in Ran's eyes. Her pain and loneliness. "I've thought so many times to go look for you...”
"And you'd found me many times," he exhaled languidly. How many times Ran exposed him? I had to go out of my way to deceive her. Every time Shinichi wanted to admit his defeat. “Do you remember that?”
“Yes... Even though you denied everything, I felt like you were nearby," a breathless whisper, a smile on his face. Ran clasped her hands around Shinichi's waist and squeezed them so tightly that he let out a low gasp. "It's like you've always been there... Like in your phrases from romance novels.”
“Did knew what I was repeating from the books that time?” Shinichi let out a small chuckle. Instead of hugging Ran back, he sat Ran between his legs. Ran blushed thicker than the sunset. Shinichi held her so tight that she couldn't move. "It may seem strange to you, but... Thank you. I’m happy that I’m important to you.”
‘What an idiot!’ Ran wanted to say. From the moment he soothed her as a child, Ran knew that he was important. That feeling was from love, but it's something similar. Friendship. Trust.
She knew she could run over to play with Shinichi if she felt sad. She could call him if she needs to talk. Only his presence made her feel better. All she had to do is find Shinichi.
And even though time slipped forward without a trace, as long as she didn't see him, he was there. In a message, call or a trinket gift - valuable part of his feelings and him. Always with her, no matter how time has passed.
It doesn't matter if fate existed. Ran wanted to believe in the thread on their little fingers. Still, Shinichi's smile at the sunset warmed her heart even more. Shinichi hugged her with a childish smile, not hiding his nostalgia for the sunset. Happy, that they’re a couple now.
Ran turned to Shinichi. A red ray of the setting sun descended on his face. Ran pressed her hand to his warm cheek. Together again from now on.
"Ran, if you'll stare at me, you'll miss the sunset!" Shinichi only teased her. He was thinking of something else, and you could see it in his eyes. "Afraid you won't be able to find me when it gets dark?"
"Don't tease me!" Ran chuckled. She held him with other hand. And didn't want to let go of him. "No matter when, we would still meet again?"
"Trust me. Until the very end, I will watch every sunset here with you," Shinichi whispered softly. He lifted Ran's hands to leave a light kiss on her small fingers. “You won't be lonely.”
"And you promise that you won’t leave me alone anymore," Ran loved to tease him back. Shinichi didn't mind it, he laughed. He deserved it. “Promise?”
"I promise that if something happens, we'll deal with it together," it is no longer a cliché from romance novels. A sincere promise, whispered only to Ran and Ran alone. For her and silent sunset.
"Let's share everything like this sunset," the phrase broke by itself. With a smile, Ran turned to the sunset, a faint arc of the great sun floating over the horizon.
"Then let me share something," the predatory tone of Shinichi voice made Ran laugh for some reason. As soon as Ran turned to him, Shinichi pulled her into a kiss.
Their hands were intertwined, just like when they were children. A small silk thread seemed to tickle their little fingers. It was getting hot in Shinichi's arms.
Sun went below the horizon. Soon they can observe the moon and the stars.
"Ran," Shinichi licked his lips. Whatever he said, he wanted more kisses. "We making stargazing our new tradition? If one of them falls…"
"What you going to wish?" Ran smiled. ‘For us to be close,’ flashed through her mind.
"We've already promised to be together forever," Shinichi's breath tickled his nose. He didn't believe in fate. Any fate, except his and Ran's. “Let's think about what else we can wish.”
"Hmm," it was hard to hide Ran’s red cheeks. As much as she denies it, Shinichi are pretty romantic. Probably too much. “We have a long night ahead... Let's think about it together!”
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Rose , dark crimson and KeiRio if possible uwu
Flower Language Writing Prompts
Darm crimson rose ◦ The grave I visit every day and why.
You can also read this on AO3!
Timed passed inexorably, sometimes in a haste, sometimes desperately slow. Pain stretched minutes in its suffocating determination, the only worthy remedy being occupation – in his case, work. If, for the last two months, he had barely pushed his career forward, his results were still positive, working in his general favour. The memories of Rio held him back, filling his body with an inescapable languor, as much as they forced him to walk. He had promised, after all…
Promised he would take care of her son. Of their son.
Elbow on the table, head resting against his palm, Kei stared at this week’s page of the diary he used to keep track of work tasks. Two months… Since then, summer had begun, drowning the town in its usual apathy as students had stopped going to school and yearly holidays were taken. Tourists brought a sharp, superficial activity to the historically interesting parts of town, nothing worth noting.
The entrance door shut down on the other side of the apartment: Satoshi had returned from his evening classes slightly later than usual. Sitting up straight again, Kei listened to the steps in the living room, through the corridor, to the bedroom the child used until boarding school reopened near the beginning of autumn. Tip, tap, tip… The light, steady patting sound of a small animal. How foreign… He still struggled to get used to the idea of living with this child, and the imminent upcoming change didn’t help.
He glanced at the watch on his right wrist. He’d give him ten minutes, pay him a visit, then get dinner ready. As for the bath, Kei didn’t bother running it in his place: the boy was big enough. Thus went their common life.
Sometimes, he reminisced about the first time he had held Satoshi in his arms, and the indefinable emotion that had spread within his entire body. Dying instantly would have been a desirable option if it had meant any benefit for the newborn, and he’d have accepted with joy. How things could change once reason took control again…
The required time passed, and he rose from the armchair to seek Satoshi’s presence, not without closing the diary and putting it back in the work bag where it had no chance of being forgotten. Old reflex: where there is any pair of prying eyes, never leave personal belongings in plain sight.
All this time, the child had been occupying his bedroom, allowing him to spend most of his time there, where he wouldn’t be bothered by his demanding schedule – polite way to mean “presence”. A knock on the door later, Kei had pushed the door open, catching him as he had expected: sitting at the desk with his homework.
“Good evening, Satoshi!”
“Good evening.”
The boy wisely placed his pen down in the middle of his open notebook, knowing well that such a visit would last more than a few seconds. If, at first, uninspired comments about good behaviour and excellent results were all Kei managed to summon, he came up with a new angle in listing and commenting the supplies he would soon receive for his education. Without really realising how, encouraged by the abandoned exercises before the boy, he ended up giving recommendations about how to receive positive attention from professors, the best way to deflect anger from jealous comrades, or which characters he had to pay more attention to in his handwriting. There was something truly joyous in declaiming a well-meaning tirade about the importance of tying a tie properly in front of an entirely inexpressive child who he knew paid much more attention than what his lack of responses indicated.
“In short, there is one thing you must remember if you want to have effective success in any initiative…”
Kei had leaned against the door’s frame, arms crossed. From here, he could embrace the entire bedroom in a single glance. The few belongings, books or bags, that Satoshi had scattered on the floor or desk were not enough to dissimulate the emptiness Kei had left for him. This way, it was impossible to guess the man’s personality, tastes or even history. Pictures and souvenirs had been moved to the office, where the boy couldn’t see and tacitly wasn’t even allowed to go.
“Be flawless, always. If you are at your very best at all times, you’re leaving no cavity for anyone to grab, right?”
“Yes, father.”
Satoshi lowered his gaze to the floor. They were probably thinking about the same thing: how the boy already flowed like water between his fingers, preventing him from attacking on any side. Flexible, avoidant, unreachable. A perfect child who, with assertiveness, would become a perfect adult. He only needed to make sure he stayed steady during the upcoming years, and Kei would help.
“You’ll be fine,” he concluded with a last smile.
Thirty days left before school. Thirty tiny days of this adorable face, and then… Then, Rio’s side of the plan would reach its end where Kei’s would begin.
Part 1 ◦ Part 2 ◦ Part 3
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nobody ever gets the mugshot of gluttony right. these days you think it has nothing to do with bodyweight. what a good trick: that gluttony could take a shape. no, there was never any fault in finishing a meal or in taking second helpings. it was always in taking from others that there was an issue - the oil baron's fingers steepled over dead bodies and stolen lands. gluttony - twin of greed, although most think greed and envy are the siblings - gluttony is pleased with the experience of gaining, is thrilled just-by-having. greed is the one that stays hungry, that has to move forever like a shark. gluttony likes it - "a glutton for punishment" is one who is seeking the harm, who loves the rush.
gluttony is a mother using her daughter's body for a diet testing ground, sharpening the bone angles. gluttony is saying why, well not! to the seventh and eighth mansion or yacht. it is not just wanting the six white horses, it is making sure that the horses came from your stables. it is not just bathing in milk - it is bathing in milk while others are starving.
oh, it's true that some sins still blaze in their bright floral prints. wrath in a white woman yelling at a person of color for even daring to be in her neighborhood. the red, incipient rage of a neck tightened at even the thought we would take the guns away. wrath has laurels, and she is good at her job, and works hard.
but sloth wasn't ever the sleepy morning of depression, the hours spent begging a clouded body to please move goddamn it; the protestant work ethic claiming even rest is somehow demonic. it was never chronic fatigue. sloth was subtle, a grey mist. she is watching you get bullied and she is deciding it is none of her business. she crosses the picket line because - what! it's just chicken, isn't it? she is closing her eyes and turning her head when the next anti-gay legislation passes. someone else will handle it. not the tense freeze of anxiety or a lack of preparation - she knows you're hurting and would rather you stay quiet about it. she tells other people i just don't see what the big deal is.
sloth is a father that doesn't do the dishes. sloth is your boyfriend's innocent shrug you're just better at household shit. sloth isn't the missed opportunity - it is the purposeful desire to just get-someone-else-to-do-it.
greed and envy are doing body shots in the back of a private jet. they are the way they always have been, but are lovers in the age of the internet. greed just finished union busting, is rolling a bitcoin over his knuckles, is about to start another MLM. envy is in a broadbrimmed hat, showing off her instagram life, grinning about how if you want it, work for it.
okay, it's true. you have a soft spot for lust, gathering dust in a corner. so tame in comparison to the others. but how funny lust is always painted as being a woman in tight clothes. you've met actually lustful women - the ones that purposefully climb into your partner's lap, the ones that say lesbians are gross but ask bisexual women into bed with their husbands. a lustful woman is not donned in lace and garters and red: that's how men think lust looks, painting their own sins into frame. this way, the sin displaces as fog and hovers above her: a woman in a dress is lust; what the man experiences is just the natural consequence.
here is the thing: lust is doing just fine, save your pity. lust is running more circles than any of them. lust is shutting down safe sexwork sites while also making teenagers in knee-high socks sex sensations. lust is CEO of an advertising network where women never pass 25 years old. all the bras lust makes are pretty to look at but, when worn, legitimately hurt. lust has a podcast, his fur coat looped around his shoulders, sells the idea that only certain people have value, that sex raises some and destroys others. lust is tilting his head and asking what did you expect when you dress like that? lust shuns you, sneers that everything you want is disgusting and taboo - right until he can figure out how to capitalize off of it. lust has the midas ability: everything he touches becomes an object.
people usually say wrath is the scary one. you agree with FMA here, though: the real dangerous one is pride, and the shit-eating grin. the white cloaks and the nationalism and the inability to apologize. it is every partner who threw a book at your head because you don't respect him. it is every mother who said my son doesn't deserve to have his life ruined over allegations. it is the teacher that fails you because you talked back.
you worry you have this one. you feel guilty when you need help but don't ask for it. prideful. ashamed when you complete something and feel good about it. too proud for your own good. but pride is not the reward of hard work or accomplishment: pride is a twitter feed. it is the thing that has to mask i didn't do anything with look at me.
pride is your father's raised hand, his raised voice. how he was never there when you needed him, but he is still "head of house." he ruins dinner and blames it on you: you're an embarrassment to this family. this is the glass you walk around, the cuts in your feet. how he says this isn't how i raised you and you have to bite back the retort: that's because you didn't actually fucking raise me.
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