𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚝𝚞𝚋𝚎𝚛 𝚘𝚗𝚎𝚜𝚑𝚘𝚝𝚜

you're in paradise, who's gunna plant the flowers, huh? [p.]

HEEHEHEHEHEHE philza minecraft
this au was made by @lucaguts on twitter!!! go check him out he makes really cool art
anyways have some philza minecraft angst <33

fic title from ; jdnt - glass animals [id recommend listening to the song while u read this <33]

pairing ; none!!!

prompt ; every innocent person philza kills is reincarnated into a crow.

cws/tws ; mentions of blood and death.

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phil is eternally haunted by the innocent lives he's taken.

he's fine with it; he deserves it. he has company, a murder of crows that linger around, resting on his shoulders and trailing behind him as he walks. their feet leave tracks in the bitter snow as they hop. he walks slowly, sure to not leave a single crow behind.

these birds are his family. he's made them into who they are, his rancorous blade was soaked with their blood, staining the iridescent netherite his sword is created out of. they don't seem to mind; the ones who stay with him forgive him, resting next to him for eternity.

immortality in exchange of caring for lives he's taken.

phil doesn't mind it.

there are times where phil gets too into his head. his friends, his family grow older by the day, he watches them age, watches their skin go sallow and the youth drain from their veins, he watches them slowly lose the light in their eyes.

he wakes up in the morning, the spitting image of himself thirty years prior.

there are mornings where he wakes up, stricken with pain and anguish, wondering what it would be like if he didn't have eternal life.

technoblade knocks on his door one day, tired and weary. something is on his mind, and phil cannot tell what it is. he carries his sword in hand, and phil narrows his eyes down at the weapon, looking back up at his closest friend.

"philza, let's duel. one last time, for old time's sake."

phil should have said no.

his sword is covered in the bittersweet gore of his best friend, and he sobs quietly as he cleans it, tears blurring his vision as he tries to get the image of technoblade, laying lifeless in the falling snow, downed by phil's own blade.

technoblade's body dissolves a few moments later, and he picks up the remaining items the other man kept; a book labelled with his name catches his eyes, but he can't bring himself to look at it yet.

the guilt of killing an innocent person wracks through him. every time he closes his eyes, tries to sleep, he's reminded with vivid images of technoblade in the snow, eyes half-lidded and chest no longer rising.

he doesn't sleep much.

when he gets up in the morning, there's a new crow, familiarly quiet and stubborn, perching on his headboard. the moment he stands is when the crow flies up to his shoulder, nuzzles into his cheek and stares at him. the action calms him.

he names the bird technoblade.

later in the day, as phil is about to leave his home, technoblade hops into the book with phil's name on it. the man pauses, tilting his head and lifting the book up questioningly. he'd almost forgotten about it, to be honest, but techno reminds him.

his mind is still sharp as ever, even as a crow.

dearest phil, it reads, i'm sorry. our final duel was supposed to be just that - final. i've died a warrior's death, and although it was by your hands, i could not have asked for a better death. i'm sorry you had to watch me die, phil.

tears well in philza's eyes, and he has to look away for a brief moment. technoblade nuzzles into his cheek, a familiar little gesture that makes a warbling chuckle form in the back of his throat.

this is for the better, however. you seem to forget, phil, that i know you. it would have pained you more to see me grow older as the days pass, to see the life drain from my body in a way you aren't familiar with. you killing me will do more for you than you realise. don't blame yourself for something i chose.

"you're right," phil swallows thickly, trying to push down tears, "i-it would have hurt more to see you sitting there and not be able to move, to be free. it would have hurt more to see you trapped in your own body whilst i live an immortal life."

thank you for being there for me, through life and through death. memento mori, phil.

the writing ends there, and phil closes the book gently, setting it back down on his bedside table. technoblade stares at him, and he can see himself in the crow's beady eyes. he looks a mess; he rakes a hand through his hair, trying to smooth it down, to no avail.

he's sure the last few words mean something - memento mori, phil. remember death.

how could phil forget? every life he's taken, every soul he's slaughtered with his blade, reincarnated into a crow. they're here because of him, because he was young and selfish, because he bought eternal life, and now they pay with their own.

he remembers death. death follows him everywhere, in the form of sleek black feathered scavengers. how could he forget? he’s taken his best friend’s life, his closest confidant, he’s taken the lives of people who didn’t deserve it.

he’s taken his own son’s life.

"kill me." a sword is pushed into his hands, pleading brown eyes staring into his own terrified blue, "do it, phil, kill me, kill me,"

"i ca- you're my son!" he cries, "no matter what you've did, you've done, you're-"

"that doesn't matter!" wilbur is in hysterics, it's clear, ever-present in his voice and on his face, "look at how much work was put into this, and now it's gone." his son takes a deep breath and looks at him, eyes steely and expression serious. "do it."

phil steps closer to wilbur, holding back the tears that blur his vision. he wraps an arm around his son and pushes the blade into his stomach, sobbing quietly into wilbur's shoulder. his own shirt is wet, stained with bitter cruor and sweet tears.

wilbur dies in his arms, a death caused by phil's contrite hands.

he's expecting another crow to join his murder.

he knows, however, that wilbur was not innocent, his intentions were not pure, and therefore, he woke up with the same amount of crows and the ghost of his son, following him in the shadows.

philza hates and loves these crows. a guilty reminder, the only constant throughout his many, many years of life. this murder is made up of friends and family, of enemies and allies, but most of all, of innocents. he hates them, and yet he needs them.

haunted by the souls of the dead, he guiltily lives on.

a murderer, surrounded by a murder.

how ironic his life is, eh?