"Paint It Black" by NobodyAtAll

Look at this saferoom.

It’s a lot like pretty much any saferoom. Toys, a bed, food and water bowls, and a litterbox. The litterbox is as immaculate as fresh snow. This room’s got the works.

But there’s something unusual about this saferoom:

The decor.

Everything is black, and decorated with silver skulls and bones and omega symbols.

Black floor. Black walls, and a black ceiling too. The bed is black, the food and water bowls are black, the toys are black, the litterbox is black, the litter is black, there’s a definite theme here.

It looks more like a goth teenager’s bedroom than a fluffy’s saferoom.

The room is illuminated by black candles with black flames, that emit black light. Not ultraviolet light, which humans foolishly call blacklight, but actual black light.

It should immediately be apparent that this room is not anywhere on Earth, or anywhere the laws of physics actually pay attention, and that the resident of this room is most unusual indeed.

The door doesn’t open, but the Death of Fluffies walks through it anyway. One of the advantages of a non-linear existence in the fourth dimension is that, relatively speaking, any given wall exists for such a short period of time that it might as well not even be there, so the Death of Fluffies can walk through it like it isn’t.

The Death of Fluffies carefully puts his scythe on a rack, with several others, and walks over to his food bowl, munching on black kibble.

“Awbewt awways wunda whewe da nummies gu.”

Ah yes, Albert. You’re probably wondering about him.


Albert is pretty old, for a fluffy. His fluff, once a sleek black that would have gone perfectly with the saferoom, has gone completely grey. When Albert was nearing his natural death of old age, he was summoned by Azrael, Death of Universes, who oversees all of the other Deaths. Every species has its own tailor-made Death, and when the first fluffy emerged from its vat and spoke its first words (“Nyu daddeh?”, directed at the scientist overseeing the project), Azrael sensed the birth of that genetic chimera and, remembering what would happen next, knew that it was time to bestow a new Death unto the world. Hence, the Death of Fluffies.

Azrael had an offer to make Albert. Serve the Death of Fluffies, stay by his side, and in return, Albert’s death would be indefinitely delayed, as long as he remained in the Death of Fluffies’ domain, where time doesn’t really pass. Every Death gets their own personal domain. Some, like the Death of Fluffies’, are the size of a single room, or like the Death of Bacteria’s, even smaller. Azrael’s domain is bigger than the entire universe. It’s bigger than every universe put together.

The truth is, the Death of Fluffies didn’t actually need a servant. Azrael just knew, in his literally infinite wisdom, that the Death of Fluffies may only be the physical embodiment of a metaphor, but he’s a metaphor physically embodied as a fluffy, and he possesses most of the same desires as any fluffy; to get hugs, to give hugs, to have friends. He needed a companion. Not a special friend, though. Even if the Death of Fluffies did want a special friend, he doesn’t exactly have the, ahem, parts to, ah, make the most of it. There’s a definite theme to the forms Azrael gives his creations, and it doesn’t involve a lot of fleshy parts.

The mind is easily influenced by the shape of the body it’s in. Putting a mind as old and vast as the universe in a body designed to be cute and give hugs turned out to be just as entertaining as the classic “turn someone into a frog” trick.

Anyway, since that fateful day, Albert has been living with the Death of Fluffies. Albert very much enjoys being able to eat what he wants, and as much as he wants, without worrying about the health risks (one of the benefits of his new position is an expanded consciousness, granting him the capacity for long-term thinking and humanlike abstract thought), but if he has just one complaint, it’s that Azrael didn’t offer him the job when he was still a strapping young stallion.


“Sewiouwswy, whewe duz it gu?”

AWAY.

The Death of Fluffies clambers into the litterbox, and pantomimes the act of making good poopies. He lacks the parts to do that, too, but he knows that good fluffies make good poopies in the litterbox, and the Death of Fluffies is, well, not a good fluffy per se, but a good fluffomorphic personification.

“How wuz da hawvest tuday?” Albert asks his master.

OH, YU KNU. DA USUAW. YU WUD FINK DAT HOOMINS CUD ONWY GIB FWUFFIES FOWEBA SWEEPIES IN SU MANEE WAYS BEFOWE DEY GET BOWED OF IT, WUDUNT YU? the Death of Fluffies ponders, half-heartedly playing with a ball. He may have the fluffy’s instinctual desire to play with toys, but he’s never quite gotten the hang of it, or understood the appeal.

Part of his mind tells him that it’s futile to get attached to a certain toy, as fluffies are known to do, because sooner or later all that will be left of it is dust, and then, not even that. Part of his mind tells him it’s futile to get attached to anything, or anyone.

That’s why he thinks (not feels, he doesn’t have the parts to feel, either), he thinks deep, intense gratitude towards his master for giving him Albert as a friend. He doesn’t have to worry about Albert going anywhere any time soon. Not as long as he stays in the saferoom.

The Death of Fluffies then remembers another fluffy he’s grown to think deep affection for. He didn’t forget, he can’t forget.

Blueberry.

A runaway pet, one of a herd of all smarties, and the Death of Fluffies knows just how long it will be before something like that happens again, who met his end at the hands of a human, as many smarties do.

Azrael told the Death of Fluffies that the herd was to be reincarnated. Blueberry was one of the last to be sent on their way.

But before he went off to his new life, he stopped to speak to the other fluffy ghost yet left unreaped.

His words actually touched the Death of Fluffies. Especially coming from a smarty, of all fluffies! From the Death of Fluffies’ experience, most smarties are sociopathic little egomaniacs who wouldn’t care about any other fluffy even if they crapped sketties. They usually make the most fuss when the Death of Fluffies comes for them. Sometimes they spray sorry poopies at him, and he has to go and ask the Death of Humans for help getting it all out before his next job. They both think extreme embarrassment about this. You think giving a fluffy a bath is an ordeal? Try giving a fluffy that’s just bones a bath. The shit gets into all the joints.

Blueberry’s words of gratitude and remorse, feelings that are alien to most smarties, even with the clarity of thought that death brings, convinced the Death of Fluffies that Blueberry had potential. So he took a special interest in Blueberry, watching him grow up a second time, this time born into a feral herd, eventually finding an excuse to introduce himself, and bending the Rules a little bit to help Blueberry become his best self. He even gave Blueberry a little test, to see if he was as clever as the Death of Fluffies suspected. Blueberry passed with flying colors, and was rewarded, replacing the fat puke green smarty who choked to death on a chicken bone. He’s now on his seventh life as a poopie babbeh, eating shit just like he made his own daughter do.

The Death of Fluffies already knows how Blueberry will meet his death a second time. But that will not be the end of him. The Death of Fluffies may even have a job to offer him…

But that’s not for a long, long time. Blueberry’s doing well, smarty of a herd, a fair ruler who loves his people. He’s even got a special friend now, and babbehs on the way. The Death of Fluffies knows how the story will end, but that’s not stopping him from reading the whole book. He’s been checking up on Blueberry a lot.

The Death of Fluffies retrieves his scythe from the rack. These scythes never need sharpening. They’re sharp enough to, should the need ever rise, rip the soul right out of the body without leaving a mark. The Death of Fluffies doesn’t enjoy the rare occasions he has to do this. It’s against the Rules.

DEATH OF FWUFFIES AM GOIN OWT AGAIN, AWBEWT.

“Su suun, mawstew? Yu bawewy even tuch yu kibbew.”

KIBBEW AM NU GUIN ANEEWHEWE. DOCTOW FAW-SHOOSH AM STAWTIN ANUVVA ESS-PEWWI-MENT. NU WAN SPOIW ENDIN, BUT IT END WIF TEST FWUFFY GETTIN WOWSTEST BUWNIES AGAIN.

“Yu fink Doctow Faw-shoosh eba gun suck-seed?”, Albert asks.

The Death of Fluffies walks to the door, and stops.

He knows all about Doctor Pierre Faucheuse and his Fluffy Cabal’s ongoing attempts to prevent the weaponization of Pheromone 53 from dooming the world. He’s even spoken with the doctor, while picking up the subjects of his failed experiments.

The Death of Fluffies was actually surprised. The living can’t usually see him unless he allows them to see him. Though sometimes he slips up and accidentally becomes visible for a moment, but he usually realizes it before anyone can get a good look at him. Azrael has chided him about this.

Humans that are sufficiently inebriated, or humans with severe psychological disorders, are also capable of seeing him, but they usually dismiss him as something their intoxicated minds fabricated and forget all about him.

Small children and animals can see him too, because they don’t possess the filters that prevent most people from seeing the incarnations of Death, but nobody believes a toddler who says he saw “a fluffy, but he was all bones, but he was walking around.”

The Death of Fluffies asked Pierre how exactly he could see him and was even more surprised by the answer.

He didn’t know humans could do that to themselves! He knew that they would eventually manage it, but the Death of Fluffies was sure it wasn’t supposed to become commonplace for another few decades. Pierre must really be a man ahead of his time!

Speaking of “ahead of his time”, the Death of Fluffies also knows how the Fluffy Cabal’s mission will end. He didn’t tell Pierre, despite his pleading (which rarely works on incarnations of Death), and he’s not going to tell Albert. He’s already spoiled this chapter’s ending, why spoil the whole book?

The Death of Fluffies turns to Albert, and winks.

WAIT AN SEE.

With that, the Death of Fluffies walks through the closed door, into the world.

11 Likes

Nice reincarnation of the fat slop as a poppie baby serves him right :triumph:

Interesting concept he had his own room unlimited kibble , toys and a litter box that doesn’t need it :sweat_smile: and a companion named albert, fascinating :thinking:

4 Likes

Well, like the story says, certain habits come with a fluffy-shaped body. To use Terry Pratchett’s analogy, it’s like the mind is water, and the body is the container it’s in.

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Funny that Azrael “created” Albert and not like Alberto Malich the Wise, the Albert in Discworld, how become a servant to be immortal. But still as a big discworldfan I love the idea of Death of Fluffies. But I would liked it more if there where only two other Deaths, the Death of Mouses and Death, like in discworld.

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Albert wasn’t created by Azrael. The Deaths are created by Azrael. Albert was merely summoned. From Earth, at a point in time roughly 250 years after the era of my stories, so technically he hasn’t been born yet. Don’t think too hard about it. The Death of Humans in this headcanon has his own servant, but it’s not Discworld!Albert, it’s someone else. I may introduce them later. And other Deaths have been mentioned, see “Another Bath”.

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wait so is albert the first fluffy created? do i got that right?

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I already explained it in the comment above yours, but the short version is no. He’s from the future, basically. 250 years after the time most of my stories take place in. Azrael and the lesser Deaths exist outside of time as we know it, as do their respective domains.

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Oh yeah thats where i got confused lol, the part about “nyu daddeh”. Thabj you for clarification

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Azrael remembers when all this will be again.

That’s from Reaper Man, one of the best Discworld books in my opinion. If you decide to start reading them, I suggest starting with the City Watch series. There’s a reading order guide online, real easy to find, and there’s a website where you can download most of the books, but I’m not posting a link to that, because I don’t know if that’s allowed here and I don’t want to find out that it’s not by being clobbered with the mighty hammer B&jolnir.

I’d feel really Thor if that happened.

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