what tragedies befall us

how much love can we give?

TW: Suicidal thoughts, implied death, blood

So tell me to leave

Phil never thought he'd be a father figure. He's always been an explorer, drawing his own maps, finding nature's hidden wonders. But something sparked in him when he first met Techno. Technoblade, the 'Blood God', slayer of thousands, wanted in almost every land.

Technoblade, a young teenager with no one.

Phil stayed. He took Techno under his wing, raised him as his own son. He told him stories, taught him to read, to write, to enjoy the simple things in life. He showed him the stars, opened his eyes to all the small but wonderful details. He taught him to breathe when the voices got too loud, taught him how to satisfy them without actually drawing blood. For a while, it was peaceful. Phil had never felt so content with just staying home before, as his heart longed for adventure.

But time went on, and his son grew, became wise and strategic, smart and cunning, strong and skilled but controlled. Soon, he towered over his father, started to leave. Made a house, made a new life somewhere. Phil felt himself craving the unknown once more, and so he left as well, taking to the skies with obsidian wings.

I'll pack my bags, get on the road

He thought he was done parenting, but once more, fate pushed him onto a different path. He met Kristin, with her teasing smile and warmth, following her own pull of intrigue. They traveled together, for a while. His days were filled with teases and stories and laughs. While his years with Techno had been peaceful and relaxing, his time with Kristin was a refreshing rush of excitement.

Before he knew it, the months passed by, and he was no longer only accompanied by a fellow explorer, but also their son, a precious little one with dark eyes like his mother. Time stretched on, and Wilbur grew as well, learning and loving the earth he roamed. He had millions of questions about his surroundings, and the way his eyes lit up with delight always made Phil smile.

And just like before, his son got older and developed a trace of sarcasm, maturing into an adult. One day, soon after, Kristin left his life with a smile and a tease, just like she came into it. Although it was a little depressing, Phil knew it was only a matter of time. She and him—They were adventurers. They weren't meant to stay in one place, with the same people, for long.

Find someone that loves you

When Tommy showed up, angry and bitter, Phil knew he had room for a third son. At first, the child had screamed and yelled and refused to cooperate, but over time, his actions calmed. He still had a short temper and a loud voice, but now he laughed instead of shrieked, grinned instead of scowled, joked instead of insulted.

Just like the others, Tommy's time with Phil was different, filled with meaningless conversation, jokes, and the occasional screaming. Tommy was a handful, constantly running around and creating chaos, his language worse than that of a sailor's (where did he learn all those profanities?). It was certainly a lot more chaotic than his other sons, but Phil wouldn't trade it for anything.

This time around, Tommy shot up even faster, getting more and more reckless and daring. Phil tried to get him to stay longer, to give him time to tone down those wild teenage ideas, but his son still managed to slip away, still a few years away from adulthood.

It was so irritating how he kept putting himself in dangerous situations, and every time Phil had to rush to his rescue, it both infuriated him and made him smile to see his son again. One of these days, he wasn't going to be there in time to stop Tommy from getting hurt.

Better than I do, darling, I know

The day Tommy finally called for him, Phil was sitting on the roof of his house, staring up at the night sky. He was so isolated from civilization that the whole stretch of the Milky Way could be seen, thousands upon millions of shining dots. A sudden ruffle of feathers snapped him out of his stargazing, and Phil turned, holding out his arm for the sleek-feathered crow to land, a rolled-up paper in its beak.

The next day, before the sun started to peek out from the horizon, a dark figure could be seen streaking through the sky, resembling a bird but not quite.

Phil loved all his children. He'd watched them grow, he'd watched them learn, discover, make friends. He'd been there to witness their proud moments, been there when they needed comfort, someone to cling onto. He'd been there to play with them, been there to take in their anger. He thought he'd known his sons, but apparently he didn't.

This time around, the seconds seemed to take centuries, yet at the same time it felt as if he had no time left at all. In rapid moments, he turned from attempting to persuade Wilbur to just step away from the button, Will, to holding a trembling sword in his hands.

Phil loved all his children, he really did. Maybe that was why he listened to his son, his son with a crazed look and dark circles under his eyes, his son begging him—asking him to.

The sword sticks out the other end, dripping with red, and Phil leaves with one son less.

People like him really weren't meant to stay.