Philza Oneshots

The Voices

Requested by (none)

Prompt: techno's voices suddenly relocate and start to poison another's mind.

Trigger Warnings (TW): mild panic attacks

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"Phil, I think the reason it's so hard for me to be non-violent," Techno cautioned, looking behind him slightly where Phil sat.

"It's because I hear voices, Phil."

"Voices?" Phil echoes.

"Yeah. Voices. Countless voices in my head."

"And the voices are crazy, Phil. Sometimes they're angry, sometimes they're sad. Sometimes they mock me."

Phil glanced at the rushing waters near the boat. (tall boi shroom ;) )

"But the thing about the voices, Phil, the thing I hear from them the most.."

Phil hummed questionably.

"The voices demand blood, Phil. They demand blood."

Phil paused for a little, unsure how to react. "Yea, yea. I remember that being a thing that just happened with you a lot. It's that you've always had that, you just got better at ignoring them."

Techno shakes his head. "I've been trying to ignore them, Phil. But they're just so loud," Phil could see his friend was struggling. "They're just so loud."

"Because they're not getting fed," Phil continued.

"I just want to stab something."

"But I'm holding back, I'm holding back. I'm gonna be a good person!" Techno smiled, proving his point. He hadn't really committed any violence acts recently, which was a good start for the former Blood God.

The winged man chuckled, "Yeah, yeah!"

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Time had passed since that day. And Techno broke his word, though he had a reason to. In the same month period, he'd been hunted, nearly executed, and provoked to blow up L'manburg. And Phil encouraged it. There was no reason not to, and with the help of Hbomb, Niki, Ranboo and Fundy, they tore L'manburg to shreds for the better of it.

The voices had calmed down considerably since then. They'd had enough bloodshed to last a lifetime.

But Phil didn't think it was because of the massacre they caused that they went away.

He'd been hearing whispers. Things that weren't there. Sounds. Phrases. Phrases that seemed too familiar to be real.

A lot of the time, the whispers were incoherent. Just sounds that filled the air and bugged him, annoyed him to no end.

Thrice, he'd heard a few certain phrases. 

"Kill me, Phil."

"You've become the tyrant."

"Where'd I go wrong?"