Dream SMP Headcanons and Oneshots

Gambling For Secrets

CW! Gambling, a bit of swearing, scar

Philza had started hearing more about Quackity. They didn't talk much, other than Quackity mocking the winged man among some other things. But what had caught Philza's attention of the gambler was a scythe he brandished. It was seemingly like any other scythe and was rumored to take the lives of the others in one fell swoop. But the Angel of Death knew it was more than that.

He had heard the crows claim it was Philza's own scythe, the one he got when he was made a servant of the Goddess of Death. However, the winged man never let his abyssal weapon out of his sight. It had the dangerous power of being able to reap souls to send them to the afterlife. So, what weapon did Quackity have?

Phil decided he would find out for himself and visited Las Nevadas, a casino owned by the one Philza was looking for. He stepped cautiously inside the glimmering casino. It reeked of material desire and madness that reminded the man of his own sons.

He glanced around at the walls and floor until his eyes landed on the roulette table in front of him. It was almost like it was inviting the Angel of Death for a harmless little game. He wrinkled up his nose in disgust. The idea of gambling repulsed him deeply.

Philza's gaze traveled up until he looked the insane gambler in the eyes. One of the gambler's eyes was glowing a soft blue, on the same side a blackened scar reached from his chin to his eyebrow. The winged man knew what that was from, or at least the original, fleshy scar.

"Philza Minecraft! Good to see you here, good to see you here." Quackity started to stand up, his arms open in a warm welcome. "Never took you for the gambling type, y'know. Maybe Wilbur, but his old man?" The gambler gave a small chuckle.

The Angel of Death sighed, his own scythe shifting against his back. "I'm not. I'm here to ask questions." His voice was stern and cold.

"Questions that'll come at the price of gambling, Phil!" Quackity cheered. He knew the winged man didn't want to be here any longer than he had to.

Philza felt a familiar presence and snapped his head upwards, meeting the ghost of a particular half ram. "Glatt." He greeted shortly.

Glatt gave him a small nod back.

The winged man glanced at Quackity again, who was waiting patiently. "I'm not here to play, god dammit." Philza started to reach behind his back to grab his own scythe.

Quackity picked up his own abyssal weapon that had been lying underneath the table. He pointed the blade at Phil. The gambler spit with venom, "Now now, this is no place to fight. If you want a war that'll end poorly, then L'manhole is what you're looking for." He picked his words carefully, knowing it would irritate the winged man.

The Angel of Death scowled. "Where did you get that scythe?"

Quackity spread his weapon across the roulette table, gesturing towards it. "Play me, and if you win, I'll answer all your questions."

Philza pulled his hand away from his scythe, folding his arms over his chest. "And if I lose?"

The insane gambler smiled, mimicking the logo on the gambling chips that sat on the outside ring of the table before them. "Well, you'll answer all of my questions. I have a lot of them, y'know."

"So it's high stakes?" Phil started walking towards the roulette table, patterns of red and black highlighted by gold.

Quackity sat his scythe against the table. "Well of course."

Philza eyed the weapon owned by the Quackity. He could see why the crows thought it was his own scythe. It's deathly sharp blade had a void-like color with subtle blue dancing across it. That was no normal scythe.

"Fine." The winged man caved, even though the idea of it went against his morals.

Quackity beckoned Glatt over, who had a small ball in his hand. The ball brandished the same face as the chips.

The two players grabbed one chip each for the first round, Philza grabbed the green one while Quackity was blue. The green chip was placed on 7 while blue was placed on 23. The roulette bowl started to spin and Glatt set the ball into motion.

This is bullshit. I can just threaten him until he tells me all that I want to know.

The ball spun around until it slid into a number slot. 19.

Philza felt himself release a breath he didn't know he had been holding. Quackity spoke up. "Again?"

The Angel of Death nodded and they moved their chips to a different number. This process repeated only a few more times.

Green on 31, blue on 8. The blur of white spun around the blurs of red and black until it stopped. The ':]' on the ball stared right at Philza, deep into his soul.

It landed in 8