Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

No matter how hard he tries, Philza Minecraft, The angel of Death, can never escape the ending he has been cursed to carry.

He is reincarnated often. In different universes, at different ages, as different people.

He can’t run from his fate.

Nobody.

Has ever.

Been able to run from fate.

The Gods call it a gift. The ability to be reincarnated, to have multiple chances at life, even if said chances rarely end up normal. What bullshit. A gift in the eyes of Gods, but a curse in the eyes of the man forced to carry such a thing.

The DreamSMP was first.

His son’s insanity. Wilbur (Soot) Minecraft. He built a country from scratch, fought for it’s independence, and even as they won the war, his mind was still broken. A room, hidden behind the podium, the podium Wilbur fought to be able to stand on. TNT hidden in the walls, laced to countless trails of redstone that ran all over the country, like some sort of parasite, latching on to whatever land it could and waiting to take effect. For it’s true purpose to be completed.

And a button.

A button that, arguably, ruined Philza’s life.

When the winged man found his way through the old, fragile tunnels, the sight was not one he was happy to see. His son, his physical state deteriorating just as quickly as his mental state had, and a room full of signs, and that fucking button.

He tried, so hard.

To convince Wilbur to step back. To remind him how hard he fought for this land, this country that he is finally able to call his home, this place he was exiled from and still managed to take back.

He didn’t try hard enough.

The button was still pressed, and the TNT hooked up to it demolished the whole of L’manburg, and Philza was left stood in awe.

Was it his fault? Was he not a good enough father? A good enough mentor?

“Kill me, Phil. They want you to kill me.”
“I can’t! You’re- You’re my son!”

Fuck does that, that specific part of their exchange, haunt him, no matter how far he runs.

He can never run.

Philza cannot, and will never, escape this hellish loop.

A simple, slowly breaking, sword. Forced into the blonde’s hands. Begged to be used, to be stuck through the man infront of him. To end the life of his pride, his joy, his only son.

He caved. Eventually.

Philza held his son close, blood dripping from the sword stuck through the brunette’s chest that he couldn’t seem to let go of, and he sobbed. Every resident of L’manburg had their eyes on him.

Every.

Single.

One.

And he fled. But fleeing is never enough.

The QuackitySMP was next.

His son, Wilbur, was a big musician now. Constantly on tours, releasing or making new songs. And his daughter, his own pride and joy, Tallulah.

Wilbur left Tallulah in Philza’s care. She was happy, to begin with. With her abuelito. And of-course, her uncle, Chayanne.

Happiness never lasts.

Eventually, Tallulah started to miss Wilbur to the point she grew slightly depressed, she felt sick at talk of him and how long he would be away from her. It’s safe to say, while the letters he sent her helped and gave her comfort in darker times, they could never compare to the love she would feel if her papa was actually with her.

Monday, 15 May, 2023. Tallulah, Chayanne and Philza were planning to go on an adventure with Fit and Ramon. She didn’t have a good feeling about the day. After a lot of laughs, some food, it was just brushed off as nerves, paranoia.

Gut feelings are feeling that should not be ignored, no matter how easily they’re disregarded.

The binary monster. A terrible creature. Almost impossible to kill, and it caught up to the family. It caught up to Tallulah. It targetted her.

Seven solid minutes of fighting.

Seven solid minutes of Philza yelling, Chayanne fighting to the point of exhaustion, Fit defending the children, Ramon trying to keep himself alive while lending a hand.

Philza tried. He tried hard to defend his granddaughter.

“Tallulah is bleeding. Tallulah was slain by 01010100.”

He didn’t try hard enough.

Every time he managed to get rid of that horrid monster, it came back. It kept coming back until it knew Tallulah was dead. It wanted her dead. She was the only one in it’s sights.

Sweeping edge. What a shitty enchantment for a sword.

Philza swung, and swung, at the binary monster. He swung too close to Tallulah, and she fell, clutching her stomach.

Shit.

When she was unconscious, no longer breathing, the binary monster finally left. The death message read Philza’s name.

“Tallulah was slain by Ph1LzA.”

He ran, blinded by his frustration. He was going to kill that terrible piece of shit. Pissing off the Angel of Death is never a good idea. Through his anger, he remembered.

The curse.

Is this it? Again?

The burden he is forced to carry, the action he is doomed to follow through with no matter what universe he escapes to.

Was Tallulah’s death really his fault? Did that binary monster come after the group because of Philza’s curse? Or was that pure unluckiness? A coincidence?

Can he really not run from this?

How many times is he going to live such a life?

How many times will the blood of his family be on his hands despite not meaning to harm them?

Is this guilt the guilt he shall carry throughout each reincarnation?

Will he really never escape this fate?

…

Well.

In either case.

That binary monster is going to fucking die.

Chapter Text

Wilbur knocks on the door. His tour is over, he’s exhausted, and word travels around this SMP like wildfire.

[ Tallulah lost a life. ]

Philza opens the door, a smile on his face, though one that quickly fades when he realises why his son is here.

“What happened?” A half angry, half terrified question falls from the tired man’s lips.

All Phil can hear is the anger.

The blonde can’t bring himself to answer the question. His blue eyes dart around, anywhere that isn’t looking at Wilbur, eventually locking on the ground. He clears his throat, goes to speak, ask how the tour was, how Wilbur has been, but he’s quickly cut off.

“Phil.”

…

“What. What happened.” The brunette repeats, his voice raising. Chayanne peaks his head out of the window, eyes locked on Wilbur as he yells.

Phil can’t stop staring at the ground.

“Are you. Are you angry?” The blonde mutters, though his question stays unanswered as Wilbur repeats his own query once more. Philza still cannot fathom an answer, despite being such a simple question.

Is Wilbur angry?

Somewhat. However no matter how angry he is, none of the frustration is at or because of Phil.

Even if his daughter did lose one of two lives, he trusts his father with his own life. Tallulah is safe in Phil’s care.

Her death was nowhere near his fault.

However this doesn’t erase how terrified Wilbur is, and how increasingly scared he is growing as his question isn’t answered.

Anger lingers in the air for a while, as the musician repeats his question over and over and over, however still receives no response from the man he calls his father.

The anger sticks, and the air around the pair seems to tighten. The atmosphere itself seems to change.

And then the tightness releases.

And everything goes quiet as Wilbur breaks down in his father’s arms.