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Roses of carmine, hearts of gold

Summary:

HAHAHAHAHAHA IM BACK GUYS!!!

Anyways cliffhanger anybody? Hope you all enjoy the story that I spent like three hours on!!!

(Yes, it is 1 am where and when I am publishing this, and yes I have school in the morning...? Isn't it technically the morning? Idk imma pull an all nighter see you all in like 3 months or so when I remember that I can post things that will make people cry again!)

Also sorry if you looked at the tags they have like every spoiler imagined in them for this sorry not sorry

Notes:

(See the end of the work for notes.)

Work Text:

It was a cold, otherwise unconcerning morning for Philza on the Dream SMP. He could
see the way his carmine roses glistened with dew in the early morning light. He got up, and
went to pour himself a cup of coffee. He pets his cat, Opal and walks outside to water his
favored roses. They remind him of his wife, Kristen. She was a beautiful immortal. The goddess
of death, the people called her. He was glad to have been able to call him his love. But that was
years ago. He waters his roses, and heads back inside his lonesome cabin. He puts in his
promise earrings, the other matching pair belonging to Technoblade, one of his three sons. He
puts on his famous bucket hat, a feather from his youngest son, Tommy, attached by a string
dangling from it. He puts on his robes, and puts his sandals on. He was officially ready for a
regular day of cutting wood. His inventory strapped with two axes, and his trusty diamond
sword, if he were to come across an unfortunate mob. His communicator suddenly rings with a
message from one of his sons, Wilbur. He was very proud of Wilbur, the young boy having
made his own country and legacy for himself, Tommy following in eager pursuit. Tommy looked
up to Wilbur like he was Prime Themself. He couldn’t help but notice how Wilbur’s mental health
had been slipping, but he wrote it off as too much stress from his shortened presidency. ‘That’s
odd…” he thinks to himself. The only thing Wilbur had sent were coordinates to a location in
Manberg. ‘No…’ He thinks. Wilbur would never. He couldn’t have. He can’t. His feet start racing,
and he takes for the sky, early tears brimming his eyes. He needed to go quicker, he needed to
hasten his flying, but alas he could not. He was going as fast as he could. Tears were streaming
down his eyes, as past memories from when Wilbur was just a small child racing through his
head. ‘Papa, look! Wilbur exclaimed, beaming up at Phil, garnishing a hand-drawn picture. I
made this for you! It’s me, Techy, You, Mum, and the baby!” Wilbur cheers, handing over the
picture to Phil. “Wow buddy! This looks so good! I’ll hang it on the fridge so Kristen can see it
when she comes home!’ But Kristen never came home that day. She would never come home
ever again. He smiles and her sweet, soft voice becoming lost to the wind that roared around
Phil, as his flying screeched to a stop, and he circles to a stop on the ground, before he full on
sprints to the stone room he swore to never have to go to. “WILBUR!” Phil screams at the top of
his lungs. His running halts as he enters the great stone room, the silhouette of his son
becoming clear, his shaky hand placed on the ever so clear red button of doom, a cigarette
discarded on the floor in the corner. The air around Phil closes in, his wings fluttering with
anxiety. ‘The sounds of playful fighting heard outside the window after Phil successfully finished
rocking Tommy to sleep. Things had gotten harder after Kristen’s sudden disappearance two
months earlier. But Phil knew that they would all make it through it in one piece. Kristen would
show back up, she always did, he assured himself. Techno burst through the door, startling Phil
and almost waking Tommy back up. “I won Phil! I beat Will!” Then 8 year old Technoblade
exclaimed, brandishing his wooden sword. WIlbur walks in close behind him, rolling his eyes.
“You only won because I let you win, Techno.” Wilbur says, sarcasm tinting his voice slightly.
“Wanna go again?” Wilbur asks. “Yeah!” Techno says, and then both boys raced back outside.’
We cut back to the present. Wilbur turns around to face his father, sobbing. Fighting heard in the
background, friends turning on one another. “This was never what I had wanted for my nation,
Phil.” Wilbur’s voice was all high pitched and wobbly. “Wilbur, please don’t do anything foolish, or
anything that you’ll come to regret. You know we all love you, so, so much. Please, step away
from the button so we can go back home.” “Oh but Phil,” Wilbur starts, “Does the commotion out
there really sound like they all love me? Right now, Techno and Tommy are fighting on different sides. Where there is love, there are lies. And where there are lies Phil, well there’s betrayal.”
Wilbur exclaims. “I don’t quite get what you’re leading on, Mate.” “There’s not a point anymore
Phil. I…, WE did this all for nothing. L’manberg, my unfinished symphony! Forever unfinished!”
He yells, and slams his hand down on the red button. TNT starts raining from the sky outside
the stone room, the sound of Withers drawing closer. Phil dashes towards Wilbur, wrapping him
in his wings. He was not going to lose another one of his family members, even if it cost him his
life. TNT starts exploding all around him, the pain in Phil’s wings near excruciating, but he could
care less, because his once beautiful black wings were what was in between him, Wilbur, and
Death herself. Thousands and thousands of TNT rained from the heavens above, The sound of
the undead Wither's roaring and screeching ricocheting throughout the entire SMP. And in that moment, Phil realized
something. The SMP would never be the same again. Wilbur’s weak voice that spoke suddenly
next was what would haunt Phil’s dreams for the rest of his immortal life. “Kill me Phil.” He
uttered. “Wh-what?” Phil stuttered. “No, Wilbur , I-I can’t. You're my son!” He yelled, “Do it Phil.
Kill me, please. Be a nice father and put your hurting son out of his misery.” Wilbur whispered
the last part so soft it would have been inaudible. Ever so reluctantly, Phil drew his hand out of
his inventory, wielding the weapon he swore to never be tainted with human blood ever again.
“I’m sorry Will.” Phil whispered, and then he tearfully plunged his sword into the heart of his son.
And then he screamed. He shouted at the top of his lungs meaningless words. He held the
dead body of his son and screamed. And he screamed until his vocal cords gave out. And then
he sobbed. Full on, body wracking sobbing. He cried, and he cried and he cried. He went home
that day feeling even more distraught than he had felt when his wife left him all those years ago.
His wings now bony, he dumped his sword into the trash. Opal meowed at him, looking up at
him with pure curiosity. Phil crashed to the ground, his legs giving out underneath him. His son
was dead. And he had been the one to kill him. He blacked out on the floor that night. His
dreams, now nightmares, turning on him. “You should have been the one to die.” “What?
Who’s there?” Phil says, his voice cracking him from his screams of utter despair from earlier in his wretched day.
But the strange voice kept repeating it. Over, and over, and over again. Sometimes he swore
the voice was Wilbur’s or Kristen’s. But it couldn’t be Wilbur. Wilbur was dead. And it was his
fault.

He was startled awake that day by Techno shaking him awake. “OLD MAN! PHIL! OH
MY GOD YOUR OLD MAN BONES FINALLY GAVE OUT ON YOU! WHAT AM I GOING TO
TELL TOMMY? PHILLLLL!!!” Techno screamed, until he got a good look at Phil’s wings. “...
phil... What exactly happened between you and Wilbur yesterday?” Techno rambled as he
searched for the emergency kit that he knew Phil kept in his now gloomy cabin as Phil sat up,
wincing in pain, and then getting a good look at his wings in the conveniently placed hallway
mirror. His eyes started to tear up again. It was all his fault… “Phil? Can I see your wings so I
can wrap them up?” Techno asked, but all Phil could hear was ringing in his ears and explosions.
He was never going to fly again. He was dying. After all, a grounded bird is a dead bird.
“il? Phil? Phil…? Come back to me please?” Techno pleaded. ‘I’m just going to start wrapping
up his wings. They need immediate medical attention anyways’ Techno thought. But as soon as
he touched Phil’s wing, Phil jolted backwards, and into a corner. He started hyperventilating.
“Not my fault not my fault not my fault sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry
please don’t hurt me sorry sorry sorry” Phil mumbled loud enough for Techno to hear. This was going to be a long process.

It would take years for Phil to recover. By the time Phil had somewhat fully
recovered Tommy had moved out. But Techno was still there. They took their new life easy, and
grew some sort of pattern. Phil and Techno would wake up at the same time every day. Phil
would water his still carmine roses, a single baby blue colored rose planted in the midst of them, in a sort of
memorial for the son he had lost, and techno would make coffee. They’d have their morning
coffee, and then they would go their separate ways, doing chores and collecting materials they
basically had no need for (but they needed something to do anyway). Then they would meet
back up at Phil’s cabin, and Techno would massage Phil’s wings which never healed. That was,
until Techno got cancer. It was a surprise, as Techno was very physically fit, and usually took
overwhelmingly good care of himself and others. Techno eventually passed a couple of years
later, and Opal had passed years before that, so that left Phil all alone. He had lost two of his
sons, his cat, and his wife. That led Phil into a depression. That was, until one day many years later,
he sees a foggy silhouette approaching him in the distance. As the figure grew closer, he grew
more weary. That was, until he got a good look at who it was. It was Kristen. He broke into a
run. He ran like at any moment, she would disappear into the same fog she had years and
years ago. He tackled her in a hug, and started ugly sobbing. Even if he had lost his sons, his
wife had come back for him. She was here now. Surely now it would all be okay. Kristen started
laughing. “Wake up, honey.”

 

Phil jolted awake in his house. Was it all really a dream…? He got up, and stretched his
arms. He looked into the mirror on the dresser. Everything looked normal. Everything looked
normal.... His wings were gone, as were his scars, and his inventory, and his hearts. He just
looked like… a normal guy. “Honey! Breakfast is almost done! Come on!” His very human
sounding wife called. Something was wrong. Something was very, very wrong.

Notes:

I hope you cried, I mean I didn't while writing this but like still. Kudos are well appreciated! 👍