#soft canon

[mythboundcal]

When the Stars Start Writing Back Kingdom Hearts Fanfic by MythboundCal

The bottle arrives at twilight.

Washed ashore like a forgotten promise. Smooth glass, still sealed, still brave.

Sora almost doesn’t pick it up. Almost lets the tide reclaim it.

But something in him—someone—knows.

He holds it in both hands.

The ribbon is faded red. The scroll inside is yellowed at the edges but dry. It smells like salt and sunlight and something he can’t name. Like paopu blossoms. Like yesterday.

His name is written on the outside. Kairi’s handwriting. Exactly as he remembers it. Exactly as he doesn’t.

He doesn’t open it right away.

Instead, he sits. Cross-legged in the sand. The sky above him darkens, starlight flickering on like they’re waiting for his permission.

There were letters he never answered. Letters he never got.

Time in the Realm of Sleep didn’t move right. Neither did his heart, sometimes.

But this one?

This one feels like it slipped through a crack in the sky just to find him.

He unrolls it carefully.

“I know you can’t answer me yet. But I’ll wait anyway. I’ll keep writing until the stars start writing back.”

There’s more. Little drawings. Memories. Hopes written sideways in the margins. A poem about the ocean, probably meant to be silly, but it makes his throat close up.

Because her handwriting hasn’t changed.

But he has.

He closes his eyes, and Roxas stirs somewhere in the quiet places inside him. Not words. Just a hum. A breath. A shared ache.

He places the letter back in the bottle, reseals it, and gently tosses it out again.

Maybe not a reply.

But a promise.

[clownomics]

Hey I was going through your document of clown breeds, and two of my clowns are 18 inches tall. That makes them way too big to be true teacups, but they seem really small to be anything else. Was I just sold runts of larger breeds or can they be that small just from crossbreeding? Billy has a porcelain face and Penni grew fangs around age two, if that helps.

Hrmn, interesting! Well, I think it needs to be said that clowns are odd creatures with very anomalous biological properties that are still mysterious to many clownologists today despite them being so common and loved. It's possible your Teacup clowns have a case of gigantism or maybe they have a sort of avatist gene expression that gives them ancestral traits! Teacup clowns are related to Porcelain clowns afterall, so they have a common ancestor and I wouldn't be surprised if some Teacup clowns ocassionally grow bigger than average while some Porcelain clowns stay smaller. I will say, the runt theory is still possible, especially since Teacup clowns don't really grow fangs (atleast not North American and European ones, I believe there are Oni-subbreed ones in Japan that have fangs!). It is possible you have a little mixed breed clown runt! Nothing to be worried about, I just hope you make sure they don't run off and breed with wild populations as excessive breed mixing can be dangerous for wild clown populations. I think it'd be very interesting to get them DNA tested but they'll always be your little Teacup babies no matter what breed they are :03

[thescarletnargacuga]

BLOODED SKIES

A HARLEQUIN AU ONESHOT

AU credit @iamespecter @tadc-harlequin-au

A/N: created in tandem with Ziku's incredible poster!

WARNING: nightmare imagery

~~~

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The music box was wound back. The key twisted until it could go no more. The music box sat open and played its beautiful melancholy tune. The music carried softly through silent halls.

Pomni opened her eyes. She stood in the center ring of an empty circus tent. Like the one we met Caine in but...it looked new. The tent was vibrant and the lights glowed bright. The only thing that seemed out of place was a single small golden sprig growing out of the ground. A single glowing leaf broke free and drifted away on unfelt wind.

Pomni watched the leaf fly towards the tent entrance, beyond which was darkness. She felt compelled to follow. Before she stepped beyond, she heard a whisper. Someone distant, yet familiar. "Don't go...please..."

She turned, but the circus was still empty. If a bit more dilapidated than the last time she looked. The colors were faded. The lights were dim.

After one more look around, she went beyond the threshold. Deep in the shadows she heard more whispers she did not know. A music box mixed with a long single tone sounded before silence.

Darkness gave way to pinks and violets. She stood on the surface of glass calm water. Pomni felt at peace here. At rest. The golden leaf flew around her, joined by a few others. They danced around like fireflies, illuminating her curious face.

The leaves moved faster, more erratically. The gold being juxtaposed with red veins. Suddenly, they shot up into the air out of sight. Pomni stared straight up, watching the leaves vanish into the ether above. After a moment of silence, the sky fractured.

The deep purple hues broke away to reveal a deep blood orange that burned into her. The water beneath her feet dried to cracked earth. Buildings and machines of war erupted from the ground around her. They emerged, rusted and fell apart rabidly. Some of these machines looked like people. Mannequins that could walk and talk. Their bodies disintegrated before her, reaching out in vain.

Pomni tried to back away, but something held her. A thin, near invisible string was around her wrist. She tried to pull away but her other wrist was restrained. Then her neck. Her legs. The bell around her neck felt heavy. Looking up, a ghostly hand marionettes her movements.

Her body moved without her say, no matter how hard she fought it. As she struggled, she heard more incoherent voices. Commands and questions and guesses. One word stood out to her. "Directive." Then thunder rolled through the sky. The sounds of machinery breaking. The strings loosened

She felt in control again, but barely. She tried to keep moving, nearly stumbling over a large broken crown. A soft squeak of a child's teddy bear toy came from underfoot, as she tried to avoid the hammer half buried in the ground. A broken blue charm laid to the side with the fragments of a porcelain mask and the ruined remnants of multiple arms.

Pomni couldn't speak, she could hardly breathe. She was being controlled and condemned and confused.

The broken and scorched earth floated apart like pieces of debris and space. She was isolated with the multitude of items at her feet. From the items, oozed a gelatinous black substance. It coagulated and crawled across the ground like vines.

Pomni had nowhere to go, and she was afraid. The black veins stuck to her and climbed her body. Simultaneously, she began to sink into the ground. The items around her closing in. The black veins restrained her more than the strings ever did. Her legs were immobile as she sunk to her knees. She could not lift her arms as the black veins connected her wrists to the heavy items.

The ghostly hand above her tried to pull her back. She felt its resistance but the veins were stronger as she continued to sink. The veins climbed her neck, making their way to her bright hazel eye. She gasped, seeing flashes of faces and places of a time gone by. A city not ravaged by time or war. A warm hand to hold. A man's whispered love.

She sank up to her chest. Her eyes stared wide at the sky, invaded by it. Consumed by it. Body and soul. Only her head remained above the swallowing earth. The ghostly hand never gave up, choking her. She was pressed in on all sides by the littered items mixed with the black veins.

As the world around her went black, she jolted awake. Her legs kicked out at open air as she oriented herself. She was in her room, sitting in a sofa chair. It was near sundown, the sky a rich mix of violets, reds and oranges. She took a deep breath and leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees. She had no words for what just happened, not even an expletive.

A gentle knock at her door broke the silence. "Pomni..? You in there?" Caine's voice gently asked. "Haven't seen you in a few hours, been awfully quiet. May I come in?"

When he didn't receive an immediate "Fuck off," he entered. Seeing her so still, worried him. "Hey...something wrong?" He moved over to her, sitting on the ottoman in front of her.

"I...don't know..." Pomni slowly answered, her voice uncharacteristically soft.

Caine wanted nothing more than to pull her into him. Tell her everything was alright. He leaned forward, matching her pose. His hands lightly clasped together. "Is there anything I can do?" His fingers twitched towards hers as she moved.

Pomni sat upright and ran her hand through her hair, taking out her ponytail. Her longer back hair draped over her shoulders. "I don't know." She gazed into his concerned eyes. She really didn't know if he could help her or even understand what she was feeling. Not that she was ready to share. She had to think on things more.

Caine couldn't resist anymore. Pomni was in some sort of distress, even if she wasn't outwardly showing it. He carefully reached out and took her hand. "Whatever you need, I'm right here."

She felt it. The warmth. Still so new to her. She closed her hand around his to feel more of it. It was rather nice. She was looking so closely into his eyes she completely missed the fact that the key crank on the back of his head was missing.

[mythboundcal]

He Never Forgot Her Name Spirited Away Fanfic by MythboundCal

She almost didn’t get off at that stop.

The train was near-empty. The sky, a little too pink. The air, a little too soft. Like she’d fallen asleep and dreamt herself into the wrong place.

But the wind nudged her forward. Not hard—just enough.

She stepped onto the platform, suitcase in hand, shoes echoing against old stone.

Nobody was there.

Just the train humming away. Just the smell of riverwater and dusk. Just the ghost of something she once promised not to forget.

And then—

A ripple in the air. Like light bending. Like memory surfacing.

He stood where the path met the trees.

Older. Not much. Still boyish, but less wild. Still dressed in pale robes, sleeves fluttering even though the wind had stopped.

Chihiro blinked once.

Her heart didn’t skip.

It remembered.

Haku tilted his head slightly. “You came.”

She tried to speak. Failed. Laughed instead—a startled, almost-broken thing. “I didn’t know I was going to.”

“I did,” he said simply.

She walked to him, slow, like the platform might vanish if she ran.

“You look—” she started.

“Like someone who kept a promise?” he offered, half-smiling.

She nodded.

“You remembered my name,” he said, quieter now.

“I never forgot,” she whispered.

But that wasn’t true.

There were days she doubted. Nights she dreamed of trains and tunnels and couldn’t quite recall why they made her cry. There were years where magic felt childish. Where remembering felt too heavy.

But the wind always knew.

And when it curled around her on the train, just so, she followed.

Now here he was.

Not a dragon. Not a mystery.

Just Haku. Still him.

He held out a hand. “Do you want to walk awhile?”

She took it.

And the world remembered with them.

[mythboundcal]

The Sky Hummed Back Genshin Impact Fanfic by MythboundCal

The roots of the tree were warm.

Not in the way sunlight warms bark, but in the way a place remembers who’s sat there before.

Wanderer didn’t sit. Not at first.

He stood, arms crossed, like someone expecting judgment to fall from the canopy. But it didn’t.

Just wind. Just sun. Just Sumeru.

He sat eventually. Not out of peace. Just fatigue.

Time passed like water. Maybe an hour. Maybe a day.

Then Nahida arrived.

She didn’t ask to join him. She didn’t say anything at all.

She just sat beside him on the moss, legs tucked neatly, white and green robes folding like petals around her. The tree didn’t mind. Neither did he.

They didn’t speak.

She didn’t ask how he felt. He didn’t ask for forgiveness. The breeze did all the talking—rustling leaves, stirring strands of his hair that had grown longer than he liked.

He closed his eyes.

And for the first time in centuries, he didn’t feel the need to defend the silence.

He thought silence was emptiness—until hers answered.

He thought stillness was punishment—until she shared it with him.

They sat there until the sun tipped golden. Until the wind changed direction. Until the shadows softened.

She rose first.

“You don’t have to tell me anything,” she said gently, brushing soil from her knees. “But if you ever want to… I’ll be under this tree.”

Then she left. Just like that.

No sermon. No cleansing ritual. No confessional.

Only wind. Only quiet. Only the softest kind of welcome.

Wanderer leaned back against the bark.

And the sky hummed back.

[mythboundcal]

Still Warm Final Fantasy VII Remake Fanfic by MythboundCal

It’s a small thing. A glove.

Left on the edge of the bar counter like he’d be right back.

Tifa’s cleaning up—half-distracted, half-waiting—when she sees it. The familiar black leather. A little worn at the knuckles. Folded neatly beside a bottle he forgot to put away.

She reaches for it absently.

And then pauses.

Because it’s still warm.

Not sun-warm. Not room-temperature. Cloud-warm.

Like he’d taken it off a moment ago. Like his hand is still in it, just… invisible.

She presses her thumb to the seam near the wrist. Her fingertips fit into the curve of the fingers automatically. She could almost believe she’s holding his hand. Almost.

But it’s never that easy.

Tifa draws in a breath and lifts the glove to her chest. Not dramatically. Not for anyone to see. Just close enough that the warmth settles against her shirt, against the ache she pretends isn’t there.

She presses it to her chest like it might explain him.

Because he won’t. Not with words.

He won’t say what he’s thinking when he stares too long. Or why he always stands one step too far, then one too close. He won’t explain the way he always looks like he’s about to speak—but never does.

She lets the glove rest against her collarbone for a second longer than she should. Then folds it gently and sets it back down. Exactly where it was.

The door creaks open behind her.

Cloud steps in, hair wind-mussed, sword sheathed across his back.

His eyes find the glove instantly.

“Forgot that,” he says, already walking over.

Tifa nods. Smiles like she didn’t notice. “It’s still warm.”

He stops. Looks at her. Looks at the glove.

Something unreadable flickers across his face.

“…Guess I wasn’t gone long.”

“No,” she says. “You weren’t.”

But part of her still is.