i wrote a kingdom of knuffel fanfiction. there's not much canon lore as such apart from brief character descriptions, but that was enough for inspiration. it also made me realise i could try my hand at writing commissions for OCs, all i'd need was a brief character description and appearance sketch.
the fanfiction is under this spoiler:
title: Lace, Bone, and Lemon Buttercream
　
fandom: kofk 　;; 　2700w 　;; 　tw: mentions of social anxiety
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Molly sat at her dressing table, fixing her hairband so that the lacy ears didn’t droop and the petals of the cloth roses didn’t bunch together too much. She was wearing her favourite Classic Lolita-esque frock, her go-to outfit whenever she had to meet someone or keep shop. She sighed when she was done getting ready, fidgeting with the frilly bits of her dressing table and poking the flower-shaped knobs of its drawers. She didn’t feel ready.
Finally, she roused herself, picked up the little basket she’d carefully packed, and stepped out into the sunshine. Once she was out of the front door, she looked back at her cottage yearningly. She’d have just liked to stay in all day, in her comfortable flannel nightclothes, taking a walk along the quietest forest paths if she felt like some fresh air and exercise. That’s how she liked to pass her days. The cottage seemed to look back at her with warm reassurance, sitting in the middle of the clearing with an assortment of wild creepers climbing up its face.
Molly took the path that would lead her into the deepest heart of the woods, where the trees pleached so densely overhead that not even scattered patches of dappled sunlight could wriggle through. Soon, the gentle glow of the forest with young leaves sprouting from the earth between the thick, knotted roots of aging trees, gave way to shadows and thick shrubbery, all the foliage around the darkest, oldest green. Molly knew which forks to take and didn’t doubt any twist in the path or hesitate to forge her own where the path was overgrown. She knew this forest like it was mapped on her heart. Her only trouble was to make sure brambles didn’t catch on her precious dress, and to avoid her good shoes getting ruined.
After half an hour’s hike, she came upon the mouth of Bat Momma’s cave. Her first emotion upon seeing it was joy. Molly was a ‘solitary little bean’ (Bat Momma’s words, not hers) but that didn’t mean she loved her friends any less than those who enjoyed regular company.
A horde of Bat Momma’s babies whooshed out and dived around her head in welcome before streaking back into the darkness. Molly followed them. Since her children had brought her news of the visitor, it wasn’t long before Bat Momma joined Molly, giving her an affectionate, motherly hug with her arms and wings.
“We haven’t seen you in a while,†said Bat Momma into Molly’s hair, before fluttering back and scrutinising Molly with her Cool Gray eyes. (Cool Gray only in the colour; the expression in her eyes was always warm.) “You’ve grown!â€
Petite though Molly was for a human, she was still bigger than Bat Momma, since Humans were generally much bigger than Bats. Yet Bat Momma made her feel small. Probably because she babied her so much. Molly was pretty sure she’d stopped growing a while ago, but she still clasped her hands in front of her and sashayed shyly. “I have? That’s nice, I want to grow taller!â€
“You’re more than tall enough for a human,†said Bat Momma, and Molly didn’t bother correcting her. There were plenty of Humans in the Kingdom, citizens and wanderers, her primary customer base come spring. But Bat Momma liked to stay in her cave to babysit her hordes of children, and most of whatever she needed for them could be got in the forest itself. So she didn’t really go out into the Kingdom much, and whenever she required anything specific, she usually sent Molly to get it, or to send word to Umiel to make it for her. So she wouldn't have come across many humans other than Molly. Bat Momma loved visitors though. Molly would almost feel guilty for not visiting her more if she didn’t know that at this point she was like just another of the cave-dwelling children to Bat Momma, whenever she came by. There to be coddled.
Bat Momma knew Molly shuddered at the thought of drinking bat milk, so she brought her a tall glass of hemp milk and a platter of what Molly recognised as Lucretia’s apricot cookies. Each cookie had a glob of lemon buttercream at their centre. Molly was delighted. Few people knew that Lucretia baked. Fewer knew that Molly was vegan and could only have plant milk because she was friends with so many other species that she didn’t feel she could stomach animal products anymore. Even fewer knew that the things Lucretia baked were vegan, just because she knew Molly might want to eat them, and even fewer than that knew that Lucretia’s baked delicacies were Molly’s favourite. Bat Momma, who always insisted that a mother’s cooking couldn’t be beat, had acceded defeat where Molly was concerned, because that was their friendship.
“What have you been up to all these months?†asked Bat Momma while breastfeeding one baby with each breast, a gaggle of others sitting on stools and sipping from bottles. “No, Tilly-Tilly, you can’t have that milk,†she said sternly, when one of them pointed at the glass Molly was holding and screeched.
“I met Frostan after his tour of the Arctic,†said Molly, “and he’s made connections with another group of merchants based in Vintermark. He showed me his goods.â€
“And what about you?†said Bat Momma, bouncing one of the babies on her knee and giving the other to Molly. Molly held him, his fuzzy head against her cheek, and patted his back until he burped. Bat Momma smiled approvingly.
“I’ve found some wonderful fairy dressmakers,†said Molly, “somehow they still say they procure their designers from ‘Firn’.â€
Bat Momma whistled. “And we still don’t know who the mysterious Firn is.â€
“Apparently she mingles freely with the citizens,†said Molly, “so I don’t know how come she’s so difficult to get a hold of.â€
“Only the Jellyfish know,†said Bat Momma solemnly. Molly nodded, humming. The Jellyfish were equally difficult to talk to. All they did was float around and glow ethereally whenever Molly tried asking them about the mysterious Firn. She’d heard rumours, about a Jellyfish Nation, and the Mysterious Jellyfish Domination that was still woven through the social fabric of the kingdom. She even heard that the Jellyfish Nation was almost utopic. But these rumours gave her more questions instead of answers.
“Maybe you shouldn’t worry so much about Firn,†said Bat Momma. “At least, we all know that she’s doing good work for the kingdom. We can leave her to it.â€
Molly worried her lower lip. “Sometimes I wonder whether the Jellyfish Nation is the real power behind the Kingdom, and Kylian and Adelhayt are just puppet rulers.â€
“Sometimes I wonder whether the Whack the Wuffel arcade game is discriminatory towards Wuffel,†said Bat Momma, “but I have other more practical things to worry about.†Like how much her babies enjoyed it over the educational games like Memory, thought Molly, and giggled. She guessed Bat Momma was right. Maybe she didn’t have to think about it too hard as long as she was able to buy and sell Firn’s beautiful designs.
“Anyway,†said Bat Momma, “you heard about the new kid who moved into the loft of that shop for Knuffel?â€
“Living Empire?†Molly wasn’t sure whether they were a kid. But almost everyone was a kid to Bat Momma by default, because she assumed they were younger unless she was notified of the opposite.
“Yes, that shop. Have you given them a neighbourly welcome yet?â€
Molly put her knees together and fiddled with the hem of her dress. “Not… yet.†She was painfully shy with new people.
“Pick up a carrot cake from Lucretia and drop by once,†said Bat Momma. “I think you’ll click with them.â€
Molly frowned. Was Bat Momma trying to matchmake? She had never urged her to meet or socialise with someone before, ever.
Bat Momma cupped her face gently, stroking her cheek. Molly immediately felt comforted, then betrayed by her own feelings. “Don’t overthink it,†said Bat Momma gently, while Tilly-Tilly began wailing in the background. “Think of it as neighbourly duty and come away right after introducing yourself if you’d prefer that. But do go see them once.â€
______
Molly rapped on the door thrice, then stilled, trying not to fidget on the doorstep. Her little basket had been emptied of the gifts for Bat Momma and her children- lace doilies for Bat Momma, who liked pretty things, and knitwear for her children, who were all bald or at the most fuzzy. And then it had been filled with a large carrot cake with lemon buttercream frosting (Lucretia loved her lemon buttercream). Molly saw one of the curtains in the upstairs window twitch, but it was pulled closed again before she could catch a glimpse of the person who’d just caught a glimpse of her.
The front door opened, and she nearly fell off the doorstep from being jolted with shock and fear when she was faced with a skull. An actual skull, not a mask, or at least, not an artificial mask. She clapped a hand over her mouth and waited for her thudding heart to steady a little. The newcomer waited, still holding the door open.
“I’m sorry,†warbled Molly. “I’m so sorry.â€
They shook their head, then took out a notepad and scribbled on it. Molly waited.
It’s okay. People usually react like you did at first. Because I’m different. Skulls are macabre.
Molly’s heart sank. She didn’t want them to feel like this after coming to the kingdom, where there were all sorts of species. This was a very different world to the human one where people kept trying to homogenise society. Here, you could be the only one of your species anyone has ever seen or will see, and still find that you wholly belonged, that everyone warmed to everyone else to create this belonging. She, Molly, probably only reacted the way she did because of her human roots, in spite of how long she’s been in the kingdom.
“People here don’t usually bat an eye at someone different… it’s just me. I’m human,†she said in a small voice, “and I guess my upbringing hasn’t left me as much as I hoped. Um,†she forced a smile, “My name’s Molly. What’s yours?â€
The newcomer tilted their head, then turned to a new page and wrote briskly.
First, come in.
They stepped aside. Molly walked in haltingly. She couldn’t believe someone would let her into their home after she’d reeled back on first seeing them.
My name is Scull. And I’m not so different from you. You have horns too.
Puzzled, Molly put her hands up to her head. When she felt the lacy ears of her hairband, Scull nodded. Molly laughed. “These are ears!â€
Scull touched his pencil to one of her flesh-and-bone ears.
“Oh, yeah, those are my ears,†she smiled, “so the ones on my head have got to be horns.†Scull nodded. A warm feeling burst in Molly’s chest. She was sure Scull was lying when they said they didn’t feel so different from her; because Scull had said before that her reaction on first seeing them had been normal because they were different from her. Those must have been their true thoughts, and Scull only said they were not so different, and that Molly’s second pair of ears horns like theirs, just to make her feel better. After all the anxiety involved in coming here and in steeling herself not to run away after flubbing first impressions with her rudeness, this felt like an overshoot on the other side of overwhelming. She quickly went and sat in a chair that was labeled ‘Gytord Chair’ with a placard against one of its legs, before she could breakdown and crumple on the floor. She set down her basket. “Um, I got you a carrot cake. Welcome to the Kingdom!†Her voice still quavered.
Scull wrote, Thanks. I like cake.
“It’s vegan, but you wouldn’t even know it. Lucretia is so good with her substitutes. She has the shop with the heart-shaped windows? It’s, like, two plots away from yours,†Molly gabbled nervously.
You don’t have to talk to me if you feel uncomfortable doing it. You’re nice to talk to, but I’d tell you if my wrist hurt from writing to you or I don’t feel like talking to anyone.
“Okay,†said Molly. Scull touched one of her hairband’s ears- correction, horns. Somehow she didn’t flinch. Maybe because they did it with the pencil, not directly. They pointed to their own horns. Molly hesitated, then reached out and touched one with the tip of her forefinger.
We’ve established a telepathic link. So you don’t have to talk to me at all if you’d rather not.
Molly laughed and laughed. Scull wiggled their shoulders up and down. “What are you doing?†she gasped.
Laughing with you.
Molly laughed some more. When she could talk again, she said, “Okay. I won’t talk to you if I don’t want to. I’ll leave if I feel like.†Scull nodded. Molly didn’t move. Just beamed up at them. Scull turned to a fresh page.
You mentioned Lucretia. I know her! She welcomed me too. With danishes.
“Lemon buttercream danishes?†said Molly knowingly.
Spot on :D
Molly stared at the emoji and giggled, the warmness in her chest intensifying. But the peak came before a crash. She was having a good time, and she liked talking to Scull, she really did; it was amazing how happy and comfortable she was in such a brief space of time. But it was her second social activity in two days; she’d visited right after Bat Momma had told her to the day before, because she’d wanted to get it over with. She was exhausted. She needed time by herself, for herself. She couldn’t do this right now. And that was okay. That wasn’t a bad thing.
“Um, Scull?†Her voice was small again. All the bigness had been in her laughter. It had dissipated like helium with the joy of ballooning laughter. “Could I have… a paper and something to write with, too?â€
Scull tilted their head, nodded, and tore off a paper from their notepad, searching their pockets and coming up with a spare pencil. She took them gratefully. Then she walked over to a table labelled ‘Sverza Side Table’, placed the paper on it and bent over it to write.
Dear Scull, can I maybe write to you as well as talk? Like right now. I want to stop talking but I also want to go home. But I don’t feel like saying my goodbye to you. I think I'd prefer to write it. I have social anxiety. When I write, I can think about what to say and take my time. You’ll give me that time. But if I’m talking, my responses are immediate. It’s like they have to be. Maybe they don’t. But they’ll slip out of me because I’m nervous, and when they do I’ll get more nervous. Not always. Sometimes, talking feels good. But I want to write with you, if that’s okay. You’ll tell me if it’s not. You’ll tell me whenever it’s not, even though we have established a telepathic connection. Won’t you?
Scull took the piece of paper and read it, while Molly fidgeted, hoping they couldn't make out the parts that she'd scratched out. She'd scribbled over those parts until nothing could be read except what she wanted read, but now that the paper was out of her hands she had doubts again.
Scull wrote, Yes :) You can visit again and write with me anytime. You’re nice to write with, but I’ll tell you if my wrist hurts writing with you or I don’t want to write to anyone.
______
“Did my solitary little bean really make visits two days in a row?†Bat Momma gasped theatrically, covering her mouth with one hand, then the other, then with one wing, then the other. Molly rolled her eyes.
“So what did you think of Scull?†Bat Momma flapped her wings eagerly.
Molly said quietly, “They made me laugh a lot.â€
“Ooooooooh,†she teased. Molly huffed, but didn’t clamp back on her own grin.
“Well, I hope you’ll be good friends,†she said finally, resting her chin in her hands and wiggling her eyebrows.
Molly stuffed an apricot cookie into her mouth and hummed. Bat Momma turned to Tilly-Tilly and said, “That’s how you don’t eat, or you’ll choke. Little nibbles.†Molly gave Tilly-Tilly a thumbs-up. Tilly-Tilly pointed to the platter of cookies and screeched.
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Posted 12-06-201901:54 PM
#2
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