Note: read “Walkies!” first. Apologies in advance if this story is too dialogue heavy. This is kind of a dialogue heavy series. I’ll make it up to you with some good proper action soon.
Beneath Dr. Pierre Faucheuse’s School for Gifted Individuals, Umbra finds himself receiving some unwanted guests in his gold-lit saferoom cell once again.
Calvin and Marley have come back for another chat, but this time, they’ve brought two more people with them.
Pierre himself, and his brother Deston.
Umbra looks at his guests, an expression of resignation on his face.
“So, what’s this about this time, Korkea? Why have you brought those two here?”
Calvin smirks at Umbra.
“I feel like it’s time to clear the air between you and the Faucheuse brothers, Umbra. Naturally, they’ve both been kept up to date on this thing of ours, so, even though they both think redeeming you is as crazy as, oh, I dunno, jumping off a tall building with a dampener on–”
“Don’t think I didn’t see what you did there.”
“–they’re willing to give this a shot.”
Pierre chuckles.
“Frankly, Umbra, we’ve never really had a chance to sit down and talk with you after you escaped from my lab. After all, you were too busy pretending to be dead while you built up your Order of Darkness, and then you only became even more reclusive. It took us a while to figure out who the,” finger quotes, “Darkest One really was, you know.”
Umbra stares daggers at him.
“And your pet assassin was trying very hard to find me. A lot of my minions were killed by Victor. Can you blame me for not wanting to show myself?”
“No, but I can blame you for a lot of other things. My point is, back when the secret war between the Fluffy Cabal and the Order was raging on, we couldn’t exactly invite you to tea and crumpets. You never gave us a chance to resolve this with words.”
Deston nods.
“And then you died. Several times in a row. Had Dehak not wished you back, we wouldn’t even have this opportunity.”
Pierre sits down on the floor, a tad awkwardly. He’s the kind of guy who prefers sitting on some kind of seat.
“So now we have the chance to clear the air, as Cal said.”
Deston sits down just as awkwardly, as he is in agreement with his older brother on the whole matter of seating.
“You have grievances with us. Let’s hear them.”
Umbra glares at the two of them.
“Oh, you want to hear my grievances?!? Then let’s start with you giving me this useless body! You gave me the mind of a genius and the power of a wizard, and stuck me with these marshmallow hooves! Did you forget how many spells require hand gestures? Was that on purpose? Was that a deliberate attempt to limit my potential? Or did you just think it was funny? I got lucky when I teleported out of that incinerator, you know! Without having fingers to snap, I could have ended up anywhere from the other side of the room to the moon! And on that note: maybe we can talk about the time you tried to murder me for a thoughtcrime!”
Pierre nods sadly and remorsefully.
“I admit that you and Cal are both right. We could have handled that better. We should have tried to reason with you first, even if it turned out to be futile. And we should not have gone straight to termination. For that, Umbra, I am willing to say this: I’m sorry… son.”
That last word just makes Umbra even angrier, so angry he starts literally quaking with rage.
It’s taking everything he has to not puff his cheeks like a common smarty.
“Don’t you dare call me son, Pierre!”
“You were engineered with my DNA, you know. Technically, you too are a member of the Faucheuse family. And you weren’t the first villain to be born of my blood. I must confess, I saw much of Bertrand in you. That may have influenced my regrettable decision to terminate you so soon.”
Calvin nods sagely.
“See, I told him that too, Doc. And Umby’s human form did look a lot like Bertie.”
Marley, having already plopped down on his fluffy little bum, cracks a grin.
“Mawwey hoomin fowm wook bettah, if Mawwey gutta be fwank.”
Umbra sneers at Marley.
“Your hair looks ridiculous when you’re in human form. Don’t give me that look, you lot want me to be more open and honest, don’t you?”
Pierre interrupts.
“We’re here to talk about you, Umbra, not Marley. As I was saying, I saw a lot of Bertie in you, and that played a part in my decision to put you down. And to be blunt, had I judged you purely on your own merits… well, we’d probably still be right here. Nonetheless, I should have given you a fair chance.”
Umbra now has an odd look on his face.
“The funny thing is that, if I didn’t need to,” Umbra gags, “feign subservience to Bertie back when I was Umbra Two, we might have actually gotten along. Perhaps Dehak should have wished him back. He really would have made an excellent Number Three.”
Deston sighs.
“You’re still hoping that Dehak will come to save you, aren’t you?”
After a few seconds, Umbra nods in begrudging confirmation.
While his faith in Dehak has begin to waver, he’s not about to admit it out loud, especially not in the presence of the three men he loathes the most, and one of the fluffies he loathes the most.
Secretly, Umbra deeply envies Marley’s power to assume a human form at will.
But he doesn’t want to admit that out loud either.
“You can’t keep Dehak out of this place forever,” Umbra sneers mockingly, “Uncle Deston. His magical power trumps yours, and it is my understanding that the wards protecting this pitiful excuse for a house of education were cast by you. You’ll see. Dehak will come to liberate me and the Demon before long. You can keep Shaun, though. Our master will get him back eventually.”
Then Umbra dismissively points a hoof at Pierre.
“And don’t think you can pull that trick with the Remote Body on Dehak. I have already warned him about that. That suit was real silver, wasn’t it? It burned when I grabbed you, and I’d know the burn of silver anywhere. I’m so glad that I’m not weak to the damn stuff anymore.”
Pierre nods again, smiling like a schoolboy caught in a lie.
“I set that Remote Body to self-destruct when you blasted it with hellfire. Otherwise, the silver would have saved it, and…”
Calvin smirks again.
“It had to look like a real sacrifice. So hey, at least you weren’t the only one who fell for it, Umby. And as my mentor, Pierre was all but obligated to bite it, so kudos for evading the mentor occupational hazard, Doc.”
And Pierre chuckles again, casually examining one of his silver hands.
“Now, you know how I feel about the clichés of Hollywood science, but that cliché isn’t a scientific one, so I could live with it. The classics are classics for a reason.”
Umbra rolls his pure red eyes.
“I thought we were here to talk about me.”
“Indeed. So let’s get back on topic. Umbra, I understand why you did everything you did. I don’t condone it, but I understand it.”
Deston nods again, more solemnly this time.
“And we are brave enough to admit that we were wrong. That we could have done better, tried harder. That we made mistakes.”
Calvin sits down on the floor with the others, cross-legged.
“But you, Umbra… what keeps you here, what keeps you walking the dark path you’ve chosen… is fear. The fear of being forgotten, the fear of being wrong, the fear of death, the fear of life. You may not want to admit it, but you’re very scared, aren’t you? And… and you’re lonely, too. You’d tear the flesh off your own bones and rip your heart out of your chest before you’d acknowledge it, but I can tell how lonely you are.”
Marley gives Umbra a knowing look.
“Yu nu can hewp it. Yu am a fwuffy. Dat come wif suw-tun fings. An dewe nu am a wotta fwuffies hu wike bein wone-wee.”
Umbra stares blankly at Calvin and Marley, before blinking a couple of times and snorting in derision.
“Lonely? Me?”
Calvin points at Umbra.
“Yeah. You. I mean, pretty much the only time you went it alone was during the World Revolution.”
“Wen yu tuk da udda Umbwa bodee an nummed Fate.”
“I’ve got a hunch: was Fate holding you back from the inside?”
“An wut wuz Fate pwan, aneeway?”
“You can tell us about that, can’t you? All we know is that he wanted to bring the gods back and start a new Battle of Gods, which would lead to the end of everything. It still doesn’t make sense, because Fate thought that I was gonna be the end of everything, that’s the whole reason he wanted me gone. But you know what Fate was gonna do next, right? It doesn’t really matter if you tell us now, right? Fate ain’t coming back any time soon anyhow.”
Umbra doesn’t answer those questions, and instead, just wearily stares at Calvin.
So Calvin shrugs, letting the matter drop for now.
“Yeah, I wasn’t expecting answers to those questions. Point is, other than that one time, you’ve always been working with someone. You’ve always had company, even if you didn’t appreciate it. So yeah, I think you’re pretty lonely. Even if you had won, and killed everyone, I don’t think you’d be very happy. You’d be alone forever. What would you even do next? Were you just gonna follow Fate’s plan, bring the gods back to finish the job for you? Destroy everything?”
Still, Umbra remains silent. The look on his face says that he’s not really in a chatty mood anymore.
Despite the fact that Umbra has little better to do in his cell than talk. And he should really be grateful that he has someone to talk to, other than a certain ex-employee of his who may or may not be a hallucination.
Which is exactly why Calvin and Marley keep dropping in.
So Calvin persists. He’s very persistent when he needs to be, as you’ve probably seen.
“Umbra… we’re not leaving until we make some kind of progress with you.”
Umbra finally replies, his deep, raspy voice bearing a mocking tone, smiling at Calvin just as mockingly.
“Is that so? What kind of progress do you want, Korkea? Are you expecting me to forgive these two stupid old men for trying to kill me? To hug Pierre and call him daddy? Frankly, there’s one thing they must do before I so much as consider forgiving them.”
Pierre sighs, seeing where his wayward creation is going with this.
“I can guess what that one thing is.”
Umbra gestures at himself with a hoof, looking pointedly at the Faucheuse brothers.
“I want you to fix the horrible mistake you made. I want a better body. I want a human body. At this point, it doesn’t have to be Korkea’s body, or even an Omega Class body. As long as I don’t have to put up with these GODDAMN!!! USELESS!!! HOOVES!!! any longer, I am willing to settle. You see? I can compromise. So how about that, Pierre? Are you willing to do that for me?”
For ten seconds, the room is silent.
Calvin, Marley, Pierre and Deston look at Umbra, then at each other.
Then all four of them burst into laughter.
“HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!”
As they’re all laughing, Umbra scowls at them.
“You know, a simple no would have sufficed.”
Calvin composes himself, wiping tears of mirth from his face with a rainbow-colored handkerchief.
“Sorry, Umby. But we still don’t trust you with hands.”
Marley’s howling with laughter, rocking to and fro on his back like a tortoise trying to right itself.
Unlike most fluffies, he can get out of that state unassisted.
“We bawe-wee-- snrk– twust yu wif hoofsies! BWAHAHAHAHA!!!”
“Yup, you’re lucky you haven’t been pillowed. But hey, if you could save up a lot of Good Fluffy Points, maybe you could use them to buy a human body! Let’s say… one million GFP?”
“Mebbeh wun bee-wee-un!”
“Y’know what? Make it one octillion, seeing as your bestie Dehak has that whole fixation with the number eight.”
Umbra narrows his eyes in annoyance.
“I’ve done the math. I’ve calculated the maximum amount of those ridiculously-named points I could earn in one day, if I chose to play this asinine game. And I’ve already calculated how long it would take me to amass one octillion points. I’d have to be a so-called good fluffy for eons.”
Marley manages to compose himself too, and it’s a good thing he used the litterbox before this meeting, because if he didn’t, he would have made bad poopies, he was laughing that hard.
“If it am dat ow ee-yons in Heww, ow ee-yons in da Dee-vow-uh-wuh…”
This gives Umbra pause.
Again, he won’t admit it out loud, but he has reluctantly admitted to himself that, compared to his time in Hell, or his time as part of the Devourer, being stuck in this cell isn’t so bad.
Of course, he’s not a free fluffy either way. If he had it his way, he’d be free of the Devourer, the forces of Hell and the ChaotiX.
He’s reasoned that this might be the true motivation for everything he did: so no one could boss him around ever again.
He tries to play it cool, and avoid tipping his hand.
Er, tipping his hoof.
“I’m sure they’re missing me Down There. You wouldn’t even have to kill me to send me there, you know. Deston can plane shift, I know that.”
“Yeah, but you already got out of Hell twice. It’s actually safer to keep you here.”
Deston points at Umbra, actually waggling his finger.
“Precisely. Here, we can keep a close eye on you. It’s what we meant to do all along, Umbra.”
Calvin rubs the back of his head in a bashful manner.
“Vic wanted me to bring you in alive during our first encounter, but obviously, I misunderstood something.”
Umbra smiles wickedly at Calvin.
“You were so clueless back then, Korkea. Even more than you are now.”
He hasn’t told the ChaotiX about his Sky Skull, which was parked invisibly on the roof of Faucheuse Tower during the Demonic Invasion.
Had Calvin chosen to run in the opposite direction after grabbing Umbra, he would have ran right into it.
That Sky Skull was taken by Bertrand after Calvin jumped off the roof, and was ultimately destroyed with the Couronne, but Umbra had prototypes in the Temple of Darkness, which the ChaotiX raided after Umbra’s first death.
And the ChaotiX saw the Sky Skull used by Dehak and Umbra in Drakonia. It’s easy to conclude that it wasn’t Dehak’s idea.
Technology on Magicca isn’t advanced enough for that.
So Umbra’s not sure if the ChaotiX already knows about the Sky Skull which Umbra used to get onto Faucheuse Tower.
If they don’t know, he won’t be the one to tell them about it.
“Honestly, Korkea, if it wasn’t for your Omega power, I wouldn’t have tried to steal your body in the first place. I don’t want to think about everything you’ve done to it.”
Calvin just can’t seem to stop smirking today.
“Still can’t shake that urge to smoke a joint you got from CQK-1999, can you?”
“What-- no! Sh-shut up, Korkea!”
“You sure? I’ve got one of Tommy’s atomicas on me, we could hotbox your cell…”
“I said shut up, Korkea! You think I like having your lingering thoughts rattling around in my head?”
Deston finds himself chuckling once more.
“I could help you with that, if you’d let me. I could help you so much, if you’d just consent to it. I can do more for you than any normo psychologist, Umbra. But you still have a right to mental privacy, and I cannot force you to let me in. Well, I can, but I won’t.”
Umbra sneers at his co-creator.
“That’s right. You stay out of my head, Deston. The only thing you could do with my mind that I’ll consent to is putting it in a human body. Again, I’ll take any body, I can’t afford to be picky anymore. You can clone bodies for your draak members, and that ghost fluffy. Is there truly nothing I can do to convince you to clone a human body for me?”
Pierre shakes his head.
“Not at this time, Umbra. As Calvin said, we can’t trust you with hands. If you want us to trust you, you’ll have to work for it.”
He gestures around at the cell.
“Because you’re not leaving the School unless we know we can trust you. As long as there’s even a fraction of a chance that you’ll betray us the moment we put you in a human body and let you go, we are not taking that risk. We will reiterate that point as many times as we have to. Hopefully, you’ll come around before old age becomes a problem.”
“Yes, that’s the thing. Even if you do everything right and keep me from escaping, even if Dehak never frees me, sooner or later, old age will claim me, and I’ll be beyond your reach.”
Marley cracks a grin at Umbra.
“We cud make yu num summa dem kwoh-noh-bewwies, an make yu tuwn intu a babbeh. Dat wud bai us sum time. Yu haf neba bin a babbeh, haf yu?”
Umbra shrugs dismissively.
“…Well, no. I emerged from my vat as an adult stallion. Which makes me the lucky one. As fragile and helpless as the average adult fluffy is, foals are even more fragile and helpless. Like someone took all the worst parts of human babies, dialed them up to eleven, and covered the result with fluff. You know how human babies have that soft spot on their heads? Well, foals have that too, and it’s called every part of their tiny, useless bodies.”
Then he points a hoof at the Faucheuse brothers.
“If there’s anything I’m thankful for, it’s that these two didn’t make me go through all of that.”
Marley persists, because he can be just as persistent as Calvin.
“But… but mebbeh dat am wai yu am su bad. An wai yu am su wone-wee.”
Calvin sees what Marley is getting at.
“Yeah, you never really lived a normal life. You never got the chance to do normal things. You came out of your vat as an adult, you skipped everything else. You never had a mother to sing songs to you, you never had siblings to play with, there weren’t any other fluffies on your level.”
Pierre nods again.
“Oui, I learned from that. Which is why I created a pair of siblings on my second try, and avoided rapidly aging them to physical maturity. They aren’t as smart as Umbra, not yet at any rate, but they are still smarter than any naturally born fluffy, save, perhaps, Blueberry and his progeny. But they still have each other. And they can still relate to average fluffies.”
Calvin gestures at the man who taught him so much.
“Right! But you, Umbra, you never had that. You pretty much said it yourself: you’ve never had any real friends, only minions and flunkies and tenuous alliances with people just as selfish as you. Maybe, if Pierre had created two Supergenius Fluffies… maybe you wouldn’t be so bad.”
Umbra turns his head away from the man who killed him thrice, not wanting to let Calvin see his expression.
“This is all just maybes. I am what I am, and no amount of what-iffing will change the past. But of course, you know someone who can change the past. It’s not too late to send Clockson back and nip the whole Dehak situation in the bud, you know. I still don’t understand why Clockson let Dehak slip away.”
“He’d burned a lotta extra lives that day. And Dehak isn’t the threat he was with that Lamp.”
“You should know better, Korkea. Dehak could be a threat when he was trapped in his phylactery. If you had just read Harvey’s mind, you would have known that Dehak was trying to bait you into grabbing the staff.”
“Yeah, but now Dehak knows that trying to take my body over is futile. You know that, don’t you?”
“Like I said, it really isn’t worth the effort. Korkea, can we finally put an end to this conversation? This isn’t going anywhere.”
Calvin gets back up, and the Faucheuse brothers follow suit.
“Whose fault is that? But we do have to get going. I’m sure you’d love to sit around and talk with us for days on end, but we’ve all got shit to do.”
Marley waddles over to Umbra, looking him in the eyes.
“We aww hope dat yu am gunna fink abowt dis, foh.”
Umbra looks around his cell.
“Does it look like I have anything better to do?”
Calvin shrugs.
“Again, that’s your fault. If you’re gonna keep acting like a brat, you don’t get rewards. If you’re gonna keep being a villain, you stay in prison. You act like refusing to change your ways is some kind of great victory, but it’s really not. All you’re doing is sabotaging yourself, and your chances of ever getting out of here.”
He walks over to Pierre and Deston, standing between them, placing his hands on their shoulders.
“Docs, anything else you’d like to say?”
The Faucheuse brothers shake their heads.
“Not for the time being, Cal.”
“Let’s just let him process this conversation. We’ll try again another day.”
“Aight. We’ll be seeing you later, Umby. And next time, hopefully we can make some progress.”
Umbra shoos them away with a marshmallow hoof.
“You do know you’re wasting your time with me, don’t you? Even I can see that, Korkea.”
“Eh, I’ve done less possible things.”
pop
Calvin teleports out with Pierre and Deston.
And Marley gives Umbra a sad look.
“Mawwey nu git wai yu wud wah-fuw stay in dis sell den change.”
“Well, that’s because you’re a moron.”
Marley narrows his eyes at Umbra.
pop
Then he too disappears.
Once his guests are gone, Umbra looks around again, the silence seeming awfully deafening.
“Well then. I guess I can get back to what I was doing before those mooks barged in.”
He waddles over to the copy of A Christmas Carol he was given last Christmas.
He’s read it several times by now, not having much more reading material to choose from. Seeing as he doesn’t have hands, he’s had to turn pages with his teeth and hooves, and several pages have slight tears in them.
And with each tear, an orangutan in a distant universe was given a start, instinctively knowing that someone, somewhere was abusing a book.
As Umbra struggles to open the book, he hears another unfamiliar voice behind him.
“So that didn’t go well.”
Umbra turns, seeing Number Two sitting on the floor, a Number Two who is either a hallucination or Klaus having some fun.
“Back to bother me again, Number Two? It’s strange how you only ever seem to appear when I’m alone.”
He hasn’t figured out which one is true yet.
Number Two shrugs.
“Hey, it’s not like you can schedule a hallucination, is it? Unless you drop acid or something.”
“Assuming that you are a hallucination. Why are you here, Number Two?”
“You want me to start at the beginning? Because I’m pretty sure it all began with you brainwashing me–”
“Ha ha. Very funny. Just zip it and let me read in peace and quiet, Number Two. You were always good at being seen and not heard when you worked for me. Draw on that expertise.”
Umbra plops down, attempting to read his book.
“I really do need one of those ridiculously-named page turners.”
Number Two grins.
“It’s your own fault you don’t have enough Good Fluffy Points for one. Umbra, for real: how many times do people have to reiterate the same damn points, over and over again, until they finally penetrate that thick skull of yours?”
Umbra doesn’t bother to look at his possibly hallucinatory guest as he replies.
“Me and Korkea are at a stalemate, I’m afraid. I refuse to bend to his whims, and he refuses to stop trying. All I have to do is endure this nonsense until Dehak frees me, or, failing that, I eventually die of old age–”
“And then you go back to being part of the Devourer. It says a lot about you that you find being part of an eldritch horror preferable to ending your feud with Cal. Can’t stop letting pride take the wheel, can you?”
Number Two laughs, a humorless laugh.
“Honestly, this is getting really boring. Every time Cal shows up, or I show up, we keep trying to talk some sense into you, and you just put your hooves over your ears, going LALALALALA I CAN’T HEAR YOU! over and over again. You might be the most stubborn smarty there ever was, Umby. And you heard Cal: all you’re doing is ensuring that you’ll always be a prisoner. Of the ChaotiX, of Hell, or of the Devourer, and a prisoner of yourself.”
Then he gets up, seeing that Umbra has gone back to trying to read his book.
“But I’ve got better things to do than bang my head on a brick wall. You want to be alone so much? Have it your way.”
Umbra raises an eyebrow, turning to his guest.
“How can you have better things to do if you’re in my–”
But Number Two is already gone.
“–head…?”
And once again, the deafening silence returns, with a vengeance.
Umbra looks at the plush toys of Calvin and Marley. Deston noticed how dusty those toys were getting, and the anti-magic field was briefly turned off so Deston could tidy the place up with a few spells.
Umbra looks at the felt smirks on the plushies’ faces, that look more and more like mocking smirks to him, making him narrow his eyes in annoyance again.
And once again, Umbra feels the urge to bury those toys in feces, as an act of impotent retribution by proxy against their inspirations.
But instead, he closes his eyes, takes a deep breath, and counts to ten in his head, muttering to himself.
“Remember, Umbra, that’s what a normal fluffy would do… and you are no normal fluffy… don’t stoop to that level… be better than that, Umbra…”
Then he exhales through his nostrils, his eyes still scrunched shut.
When he opens his eyes, he’s not much calmer, but he doesn’t feel the urge to crap on the plushies anymore.
For now, at least.
Yeah, that’s a recurring thing.
If Umbra had hands and a pin, he’d be stabbing those plushies like voodoo dolls, or poppets, as they’re actually called.
Voodoo does have actual power, as Umbra saw for himself back when he and Number Two went after the Staff of Necrosis the Undying.
Even though the voodoo lady who the Trinity of Terra had entrusted with the Staff happened to be a fraud with zero genuine magical power.
Which is why Umbra and Number Two faced little resistance when they killed her for the staff.
That she didn’t know that torturing people with voodoo dolls isn’t actually a thing in voodoo pretty much proves that she was a fraud.
And at the time, Umbra thought that mission was a bust. He was under the impression that the Staff only kills people with magic, which Umbra can already do.
Or rather, he could do it if he wasn’t wearing a gold bracelet, or living in an anti-magic field.
Umbra now knows that the mission wasn’t a bust, and he deeply regrets ordering Number Two to throw the Staff away.
Especially because, due to a bizarre coincidence, Reggae and Mortis, the zombies who Umbra unknowingly created with the Staff, ended up delivering the Staff more or less directly to Deston, who is one third of the Trinity.
And the Staff has been destroyed, by none other than Reggae.
That’s what happens when you don’t do your homework, Umbra has reasoned.
Umbra sighs, the conversations that have just occurred replaying in his head.
“I’ve got to get out of here.”
He knows that it’s only a matter of time until Calvin tries again.
In truth, Umbra’s grown sick of this too. He’s sick of his cell, he’s sick of the talks, and he’s sick of the walks around the School grounds.
But he knows that the only way to escape all of that is to cooperate with his sworn enemies. To let go of his grudges, and his thirst for revenge.
It is the internal conflict between his desire for freedom and his desire to not allow Calvin any victory that troubles Umbra so.
Deep down, Umbra knows that what Calvin was saying wasn’t all that wrong.
But even agreeing with Calvin is unbearable to Umbra.
If Calvin said that Umbra was the greatest, smartest, best fluffy there ever was, the paradox would probably make Umbra’s brain implode.
That’s how spiteful Umbra can be.
So he’s determined to avoid admitting out loud how lonely he really is, especially within earshot of his enemies. He’s always been desperate to deny his loneliness.
What Marley was saying wasn’t all that wrong either.
As a certain thin fluffomorphic personification who Umbra has crossed paths with several times can attest, a fluffy-shaped body comes with certain inherent desires.
And Umbra may have shed his fluffy form to enjoy the benefits of a humanoid body on three occasions, but he’s still a fluffy, as his reversion to Fluffspeak before each of his three prior deaths proved.
A fluffy with magical powers and supergenius intellect Umbra may be, but at the end of the day, he’s still a fluffy.
No matter how hard he tries to escape it.