MCYT ; LITTLESPACE/AGERE ONESHOTS

L!philza CG!sbi

to say that philza was cold was an understatement. he was absolutely freezing. and he thought that when technoblade came to him a few weeks ago, covered head to toe in heavy animal fur and thick snow boots, that the piglin hybrid was joking when he said where he lived was too cold. phil only laughed and told him it couldn't be 'that cold', that he had probably been through worse, afterall techno was used to warm weather due to the nether.

and now here he was, shivering as his wings covered his body. it had been weeks since techno started getting together everyone, 'sleepy bois inc' as they'd like to call themselves. they were all scattered around lands, some even on servers. but techno wasn't worried, he was the 'human' gps afterall. so far, he had located tommy and the male was on his way (with tubbo), and techno was heading back with wilbur now.

but phil was alone. he was alone and he was scared. it was uncharacteristic of him, wandering through snowy forests, axe in hand and bag full of wood on his back, but clearly having no sense of direction. he had traveled these woods before hadn't he? he was only out to get wood for the fire. why had he got lost?

he was ducking around every tree and jumping at any noise.

it was when phil had found a path and began to take it, his communicator buzzed.

technoblade - almost back.
technoblade - tommy, tubbo, how far are you

tubbo - close!

technoblade - ok
technoblade - phil, are you done getting the wood?

a minute passed. then two. phil was reading the messages, they could all see that, why hadn't he replied?

technoblade - phil?

philza - yea srry hands ocfupied

phil cursed himself for his spelling mistakes. his hands weren't occupied, far from it actually! he had dropped his axe the moment his communicator pinged.

but phil was slipping. and he was slipping fast.

there was waves of guilt washing over him when that familiar fuzz took over his mind for a brief period. he shook it off- he was a grown man. nothing was wrong with regressing, half the people he knew were regressors and he helped from time to time, but he wasn't a regressor. he was the one who helped when a little got hurt, he was the one who waited patiently when a little was too deep in their headspace and became nonverbal.

he wasn't a regressor.

no matter how many times his little self crawled out and he found himself in a pile of blankets, sucking his thumb. regressing wasn't for him. he could find another way to cope.

but god, was he cold.

if the boys noticed phil's spelling they didn't comment on it. everyone just read the message it seemed, and left. phil was almost glad he didn't have to explain further.

but he wanted to be taken care of-

no, he just wanted to get home. home where it was warm, home where the people he called family would be, home where he had a secret hideaway of little gear that he could-

home. he just wanted to go home. that was it, nothing more.

and finding himself at another spilt road path wasn't helping.

phil ruffled his wings in annoyance- this would've been so much more easier if he could just fly. but he can't, his wings were dirt-clad and hadn't been preened in quite a while. he would simply just glide at best. and this bag was so heavy.

he reached in his pocket, flipping open his communicator. "i'm sorry techno," he muttered, blindly tapping away words he hoped would make sense.

philza - howlong beforr yowr here?
philza - got lost