Note: Age regression- this is a healthy coping mechanism, and not AT ALL associated with NSFW content. Shippers DNI- that is disgusting.

TW: Distressed little, hyperventilation/panic, mention of scarring, mention of trauma, self-deprecating thoughts.

Phil was frustrated. It was late, and his headspace had been tugging on the edge of his mind for several days, but he didn't have time to do anything about it. He was on the verge of a breakthrough for a huge project that he'd been working on for months, and he couldn't stop while he had the motivation for it. Techno had been gone for a couple weeks, server-hopping for potion supplies, which only fueled his determination not to regress.

Phil didn't have a bad relationship with regression. He understood that it was a healthy coping mechanism for different reasons, and he'd acted as caregiver to a couple of the server's littles. However, the avian couldn't help but feel awkward whenever he regressed. He was the father figure, the dad of the server. He's not supposed to be a child- he's supposed to be the paternal figure.

So, he ignored the tug and focused on the contraption. It was a flying device that would allow Phil to glide without having to use his burnt wing. He paused, and pulled the appendage in front of himself. He swallowed thickly as he brushed the heavy scarring, biting his lip when he couldn't feel his fingers resting on the tissue. The wing hardly responded to his brain, often lying limp as he walked. Techno usually strapped it to Phil's back, but he'd been gone for a couple weeks.

"Fuck," Phil muttered, rubbing his eyes. His lip was growing sore from how he was chewing it, but the pain provided a sort of relief to the grief that was building in his chest.

He couldn't help but wonder how different things would be if he hadn't jumped in to shield Wilbur from the L'Manberg explosion. What if he could still fly? After all, a grounded bird was a dead bird.

Phil wrapped his arms around himself tightly, locking the air inside his lungs, but as he gasped for breath, he began hyperventilating. Fuzziness started to take over and he curled into a ball on the floor, project forgotten.

"T'chno," he whimpered into the empty cabin. There was no one. Phil knew better, he had no caregiver, he was the caregiver, he's not supposed to regress. He wasn't allowed to be held and babied and act like a kid. He's supposed to be the responsible adult and here he was, snivelling on the floor like a brat. If his flock was still here, they'd be so disappointed-

Phil gasped at the memories of his old flocks, all tainted by betrayal and abandonment. That was why they left him, why he didn't deserve the comfort of his headspace, why he had to be the responsible one, so this flo- these friends won't leave him. Oh god, Techno was supposed to be back by now. He was supposed to be back and he wasn't. His floc- best friend had left him behind. He was abandoned yet again.

Phil let out a particularly loud sob, plummeting into headspace, instincts taking over. He chirped and called into the empty cabin, over and over, distress filling the sounds.

Technoblade was finally done with his supply gathering trip. It had taken longer than expected, but it couldn't be helped. He approached his cabin, noting that Phil's was still lit up at three in the morning. He dropped off his new materials and stepped out into the bitter cold again to visit Phil. Techno shook his head fondly as he thought about the avian. Phil was probably up late working in his gliding contraption and didn't realized what time it was.

He approached the door, and before he could turn the handle, heard it- a long, distressed whistle. He threw open the door and headed to the source, suddenly very alert. Techno barged into Phil's workshop. His heart clenched when he saw Phil, laying on the ground, tear tracks running down his grimy face. Phil let out a panicked screech when he heard the door open, and clumsily tried to scramble backwards, wings and arms flailing wildly.

Techno stepped forward and gently grabbed Phil's shoulders, worried he might break the delicate contraption he'd been working on for so long.

Phil only screeched more hysterically. Techno got a look at Phil's eyes- they were nearly slits. He was deep in his instincts, and Techno knew the avian wouldn't listen to his English.

He grunted experimentally at the still squirming avian. He froze, gears visibly turning in his head, before throwing himself onto Techno. He buried his face in Techno's cape, chirping profusely. Techno wasn't sure what set him off, but he had a feeling what was going on, and he was glad Phil could still recognize him in that state. He wrapped his arms around the sobbing avian, and began rumbling as he rocked back and forth.

Phil then began to calm down, panicked chirps settling into soft peeps after several minutes.

Techno pulled away enough to wipe away the stray tears on Phil's face. He looked awful- puffy eyes sporting dark bags, and the tears left clean trails through dirt and grime.

"Let's get you cleaned up, baby bird. But first," he shifted the avian more comfortably in his arms, "can you tell me how old you are?"

Phil froze, staring up at him, horrified. His lip began trembling (Techno noted that it had bite marks on it), and the piglin quickly said, "It's ok if you don't know, I just need an age range, darling."

Tears began to leak out of Phil's eyes as he blubbered, "No' s'ppose' t'. 'm s'pposed t' be big!"

Techno frowned. "Who told you that, baby bird?"

"Flock! 'n me! No' s'ppose' t'! 'm da da'! Hafta be big or- or Te'no 'll lea'e! Eve'yone lea'e!" Phil bawled, pressing himself closer to the piglin. Techno began rumbling again, soothing the chick. He stood and began maneuvering himself and and the avian out of the workshop.

He stopped at Phil's nesting room filled with blankets and pillows, and gently set him down in the middle. Well, he tried to. Phil had an iron grip on Techno's shirt and cape.

"Phil, I need to grab a couple things really fast, and I need to you let go of my shirt."

Phil let out a broken peep that nearly shattered Techno's heart, but he whipped off his cape and laid it over Phil. The avian buried his nose into it immediately, effectively distracted, and techno raced downstairs to find the little gear Phil kept around for emergencies.

He dug out the box and got some milk warmed in a spare bottle, just in case. He then raced back upstairs to Phil, who had burrowed himself in Techno's cape. The avian shifted when Techno came in, and peeped as the piglin began to lay out the gear in the nest for him. Phil looked at him, confused.

"Bu' 'm no' s'ppose' t'," he mumbled, turning away.

Techno held out a green pacifier. "You can," he murmured softly. Phil turned back, eyes wide. "Tech' no' ma'?" He whispered in disbelief.

"Never, chick."

Something in Phil snapped, and he felt himself plummet farther into headspace. The waterworks began again, and he tried to grab the paci, but just holding himself up was too much work. He felt himself fall forward before strong hands steadied and scooped him up. "There you are, chick, there you are." Something was pressed against his lips, and Phil quickly bit down on it, but startled when warm liquid filled his mouth. He distantly realized it was a bottle, but he was too focused on working the nib for it to register. The tears slowly stopped, and the fuzz that Phil had been trying to push off took over completely.

Techno rumbled as Phil finally calmed down, grateful he thought of getting the bottle. The avian quickly finished, and before he could get up upset again, Techno offered the paci, which was immediately accepted. Phil relaxed as he drifted off to sleep, contented peeps occasionally escaping around the soother.

Technoblade thought about the panic he found Phil in and wondered how that happened. He was usually so calm and collected, and it really scared the piglin to see his sounder so panicked. Techno knew he would never not hear those broken screeches in his dreams. For now, Phil was calm, so Techno was calm, and he drifted to sleep with a chick in his arms and a resolve for the next day.