Ink Stains (MCYT Oneshots)

[R] FireStarr11025's 5 (Phil-centric)

(A/N: request as a pic. A longer chapter today, so :D! FYI, if you give me multiple requests in a single go, I'll put them all into a single chapter, so there will be details that will be omitted.)

Transported to Hardcore
Phil's eyes fluttered open. He tensed up as he heard yelling around, and slowly sat up.

"What happened?" he groaned. Techno was by his side almost immediately. He looked around, and frowned. "This isn't the Dream SMP."

"Great observation," someone said sarcastically, but Phil was too busy scanning the area and standing up to care about it much. His brows furrowed; there was something familiar about this place, but he couldn't place how it was familiar just yet.

"Alright, we need to figure out where we are," Dream said, slipping into the leader role easily. "Does anyone know where we are? I mean, we already know that we're in Hardcore, but has anyone seen a world like this before?"

It clicked. Phil whirled his head around, and true enough, he could see the shadowy and faraway figures of his home.

"I know where we are," he breathed out. Dream's attention snapped to him, and he stepped forwards.

"Well, where are we, Phil?" he asked.

Phil glanced around once more. If he squinted enough, he could see his tall mob farm, and if he squinted even more, he might even be able to see his family's childhood home, sitting just in the distance.

He wondered how his sons would like to head back home, even just for a while.

"We're in my hardcore world," he whispered.

Comforts for Dad
"You're fine, Phil," Techno whispered to him, hugging him. Phil let out a shaky sigh, and patted his back.

"I'm fine," he said. "What are you doing here?"

"You were screaming and crying and all that," Tubbo piped up nervously, and Phil internally cursed. He should've went somewhere else, shouldn't've let them see him breaking down and crying. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," he repeated. "Don't worry about me."

"Bullshit," Wilbur stated bluntly. "Dadza, we just want to help. Let us help you, please?"

Phil wasn't sure how to respond to that. Usually, it was him helping his sons, not the other way around. He blinked away the tears that were starting to form again, and curled his wings inwards, ignoring his sons' concerned looks.

"I'm supposed to be brave for you all," Phil laughed, though it sounded pathetic, even to his own ears. Through his blurry eyes, he could see Tommy's face scrunch up.

"Well that doesn't make sense," he said. "If that's a rule, then that rule is shit."

New Wings
Regrowing his wings was a thing that Phil never thought could happen, but it did, in fact, happen. And now, he had to learn how to use them again, and navigate through his new instincts.

Sitting, for one. His wings kept brushing against the floor uncomfortably, and eventually, Phil figured out that it was more comfortable to sit in a crouching position. He received a few awkward and weird looks for it, but it was better than having to bear through the pain on his wings.

His instincts were... well, they were certainly an experience. In the early stages, Phil often found himself gathering soft materials to build nests, and he liked to usher in his sons and pseudo-sons into the nest. There was a lot of cuddling and snuggling in the early stages.

Over time, though, he learned to manage it, if only to stop having his sons come over everyday to help him. Sure, there were obstacles and problems every now and then, but it was nothing he couldn't handle. And, yeah, maybe he felt himself getting more restless and getting injured more than usual as the days went by, but it was fine. It had been over two months since his wings grew back in. He was managing.

After the fourth time crashing into glass because he couldn't see it, though, Phil had an intervention forced upon him.

Preening
Phil was having the best time of his life.

Ranboo's hands, while inexperienced, were thin and deft, and he preened his feathers in a way that was both comfortable and effective. It was soothing enough that Phil found himself letting his hindbrain lead his actions, drifting in a blissful space.

He snapped out of his hindbrain when Ranboo started screaming.

"What's wrong?" Phil turned around frantically, only to see Ranboo holding up a few stray feathers, probably some of those that needed to fall off. Still, it didn't explain why Ranboo looked so panicked. "Ranboo, what happened?"

"I'm sorry!" Ranboo blubbered, which only made Phil more confused. "I didn't- I don't know what happened, honest, I was just doing the- the usual when one of this fell off, and they- and more just started falling so I screamed because I panicked and- and I am so sorry Philza Minecraft, I promise I won't touch your- your feathers again, please just let me stay-"

"Ranboo, it's alright," Phil made a note to talk about Ranboo's insecurity at a later date, as he scooted closer and plucked his fallen feathers out of Ranboo's grasp, before tossing them away casually. "That's supposed to happen. It's called molting. You didn't hurt me, don't worry,"

Ballroom Dancing
"I never expected Phil to be so good," Eret commented, idly taking a sip of their wine as they watched Phil and his apparent wife — Kristen, if they remembered correctly — absolutely decimate the dance floor. They looked like the picture-perfect fairytale couple, and Eret would be lying if they said that they weren't slightly envious of their dancing skills.

"Well, I had to have learned it from somewhere," Fundy laughed lightly besides him. "Did you know that Phil was the one to teach me how to ballroom dance? He taught all the others, too."

"Huh," Eret remembered how shocked they were at the fact that all the other L'manburg's founding members could dance so sophisticatedly and nicely, without tripping or stumbling even once. "I should've guessed."

"Yeah, no, it's not something Phil likes to brag about," Fundy shrugged. "Frankly, I don't know much about how and why he knew how to dance like that. Something about the Antarctic and an empire, I think? You could probably get more answers out of someone like Wilbur instead of me; I don't really know much either."

Eret hummed. "I think I might. Do you think Phil would give me dance lessons?"

"Oh, definitely."