#this fic was inspired by the one art i made where grian is laying on the ground holding the egg and asking it why it's not hatching

[hopepetal]

A little fic I wrote inspired by these two art pieces by @cherrifire! Thank you very much for creating such wonderful art for me to take inspiration from ^_^

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Pearl was falling.

Plummeting, as Icarus once did, through endless blue and blindingly white clouds. The bright green thread that had tied her to Scott- finally visible to her eyes- was trailing behind her as a mocking reminder of what was broken; what she had broken.

Hot tears welled up in her eyes and were torn away by the wind, shining droplets of saltwater and sorrow thrown up to the stars. The wind whipped through her hair, strands falling in her face as she continued her seemingly eternal descent through the air.

It seemed the moon had a habit of falling from the sky.

Just as quickly, Pearl was swallowed by the void, all encompassing darkness surrounding her. As the cold void whistled past her, Pearl was suddenly reminded of the fight with the enderdragon years ago, long before she had joined Hermitcraft. Maybe that's what this was.

She closed her eyes. It made no difference, but at least she didn't have to keep looking at that broken soulmate string, or stare into the void that was as empty as her heart felt.

Is she awake?

Oh.

This end poem sounded a little different than what Pearl remembered.

No, not yet. Give her time. You know how hard the games are.

She kept her eyes closed. What else would there be to see beyond the void that she already knew so intimately?

She fought hard.

She had no choice.

We all did.

There was light shining on her face behind her closed eyelids, Pearl realized. With a soft gasp, feeling herself laying on solid ground, Pearl's eyes shot open. She slowly sat up, rubbing her eyes as they adjusted to the light.

The first thing she noticed was Grian's concerned expression as he gazed at her from where he stood. The second was Scott, gazing at her with an unreadable face. The third was Tilly, laying on her lap, and Pearl was thankful for the familiar comfort in this strange place.

"...Pearl?" Grian asked, hesitant and sounding so, so tired. "How are you feeling?"

Pearl bit back a yawn as she instinctively stroked Tilly's fur, rubbing the dog's head with one hand as she rubbed the last bits of sleep from her eyes with her other hand. "What happened?" Her voice rasped and scratched against her throat, and Pearl winced. Glancing around, her gaze swept over the others present- Joel, Scar, Impulse, Tango, Cleo... as well as the rest of the members from the death games. "Where are we?"

Grian sighed, glancing over at Scott. "You won the game." His eyes met Pearl's again, and he offered her a tired smile. "I'd offer my congratulations, but I think we all know they're unwanted."

"Neither of us are too sure about where we are, exactly," Scott added on, "but we know we can't leave." We've tried, was left unsaid, hanging in the air.

"Are they okay?" was Pearl's next question as she glanced once more at their friends.

"They're not dead," Scott answered, and Grian shot him an annoyed look.

"They're just sleeping," he reassured Pearl, "like you were. Like we both were, before we woke up." He glanced at Scott, before his eyes drifted back out over the crowd of sleeping people. "The sleepers play the games, and the winners wake up. That's what seems to be happening. I don't know-" And he sounded so genuinely frustrated and angry for a moment, before he took a deep breath to calm himself- "I don't know how to fix it. Nothing we've tried works."

Pearl didn't know what to say. "I'm sorry," she tried, continuing to pet Tilly. The small dog had begun to wake, ears and tail twitching as Pearl gently ran her hand through her fur.

Grian sighed, shaking his head. "No, I'm sorry. You just woke up, I shouldn't be putting this all on you." He gave her a smile that couldn't quite reach his eyes. "I'm glad you're awake, Pearl. Good morning."

Pearl giggled softly. "Good morning, Grian. Scott."

Scott's mouth quirked up into a small smile. "Well, good morning to the both of you, too."

[prismadog]

I wrote another thing. Not great, again, but not bad. It's also gotten a bit long so I'm gonna have to do this in parts otherwise you'll end up reading a fic that's like several "do you love the color of the sky" posts combined.

So, there's at least going to be two parts to this, maybe three if part 2 gets too long, but hopefully it won't.

I should probably also say that this is another Dragon Mom Grian au fic, idk where in the timeline it takes place exactly, but who cares. I was gonna do another Babysitting the Tegg fic but decided to do this one instead. then I'll work on part 2 and maybe something for a new au idea I had where Hermitcraft Grian and 3rd Life Grian swap places.

Making a Nest - Part 1

There’s something wrong with Grian.

All of Boatem could see it. 

He’s quiet, reserved. He’s distracted, absent from any present conversation. He wanders around his cave or he stays cooped up in his house. He doesn’t really go out, not even to prank people.

The only time he ever really seems relatively close to his usual self is when he’s coming to his friends’ rescues or stalking a visitor to the village. But even then, it just isn’t the same.

Grian just isn’t himself.

It is…worrying…to say the least.

So.

So four out of five of the Boatem Crew hold a meeting, a secret meeting, one that doesn’t include their favorite gremlin.

They meet up in Pearl’s mountain basement - Pearl, Scar, Mumbo, and Impulse. Pearl had set up a little area away from the entrance ahead of time, and brought out drinks and snacks - milk and cookies - when the others arrived.

“So…” she starts, not really sure what to say, “Uh, we all know why we’re here, right?”

“Because Grian isn’t Grian?” Mumbo asks.

She nods. “He’s been quiet, more quiet than I’ve ever seen him.”

“I noticed that he’s not making as much progress on his base,” Impulse says. “I thought it was burnout at first but when I talked to him, he just seemed…distant.”

“I don’t think he’s been sleeping much. I’ve seen him from the Swaggon just wanderin around and carrying the egg,” Scar says through a mouthful of cookie. “Even in the middle of the night.”

“He has been carrying it around a lot, and talking to it sometimes,” Mumbo agrees. “I expected that after tag ended, but uh, he’s not as chipper as he was. He’s just, well like Pearl said, quiet.”

“Do we know why he’s like this?” Impulse asks.

They all look at each other, just as clueless as the next.

“Well, it’s not burnout,” Impulse says. “That much I know from when I talked to him.”

“I tried talking to him the other day when he was stocking the train but he didn’t really say much,” Pearl says. “I wanted to do a prank with him but he said he “wasn’t up for it”. That’s weird in of itself so I asked if he was feeling alright and he just shrugged.”

“I thought that too! He almost flew into one of my houses a few days ago.” Mumbo munches on a cookie. “I asked him if he was all right and he just brushed me off.”

Scar hums, taking another cookie for himself. “It’s gotta have something to do with the egg.” He mutters ‘oh shoot’ when drops the cookie in his glass of milk. “Maybe if we all go over and ask, he’ll tell us what’s wrong?” He fishes the drowned cookie out of his glass and shoves the whole thing in his mouth before it falls apart.

“Is that the right thing to do? What if he shuts down on us?”

“If talking to him one on one didn’t work, then we need to go together,” Scar tells Impulse. “Unless we want to ask someone else to talk to him?”

“That’s an idea, I’m sure Xisuma wouldn’t mind talking to him,” Mumbo says, “but maybe we try fixing this ourselves first?”

“Should we go over now?”

Pearl sets down her glass of milk and stands. “Let’s do it and do it now before we chicken out.”

The other three members stand as well and head out of Pearl’s base, discussing quietly on how to approach Grian once they find him.

They still don’t really have a plan when they come across him in his cave, after several minutes of searching.

Grian is sitting near the cave wall on top of one of his buildings - the Magical Menagerie. He has his arms folded on top of the dragon egg in his lap and his eyes closed. His wings, now a dark grey with spots of violet, drape over the tiles of the roof.

“Hey, Grian,” Pearl calls out, landing several feet away. “You awake?”

His dark eyes blink open to look at her. “Yeah,” he replies quietly.

“Mind if we join you?” He only gives her a shrug in response - as good an answer as any, she supposes. She turns towards the alley below, “Hey, guys, up here!”

Seconds later, Impulse joins her on the roof, then Scar who barely misses the glass ceiling, and then Mumbo who stumbles to a landing and almost falls back off. He would have too if Pearl and Impulse didn’t grab his arms.

“So what’s up?” Grian asks, still sitting in his spot. He sounds, and looks, tired.

The rest of the crew looks at each other for a long moment, then Scar steps forward. 

“Well, Grian, glad you asked. We’ve been having a meeting - I know, I know, we didn’t invite you, but there’s a very good reason for that - it was about you. You see, my fine feathered friend, we’ve been worried about you.”

“O…kay?” 

“You’ve been a bit off, Grian,” Impulse says. “For a while now I’d say.”

“You also seem tired, mate. And we’re just, uh, really worried.”

Grian’s wings shift a bit behind him, the feathers fluffing up the smallest amount. “I’m fine, guys,” he says though his voice is low and almost scratchy, as if he’s been sick or hasn’t been talking much. “Maybe a bit tired but I’m fine.”

Pearl takes a step forward, her moth wings unfolding partially behind her, “You’re not fine!” she says, her voice louder than normal but not shouting. “You’re not fine one little bit. You’re not talking to us, you brush us off when we try to ask you what’s wrong, Scar’s seen you up at all hours of the night, Mumbo says you almost flew into his houses, and you don’t want to do any pranks with me.

“We’re really worried, Grian, and we just want to know what’s wrong,” her voice quiets as she says this.

“Please just tell us what’s wrong,” Mumbo says.

“Whatever’s bothering you, we can help,” Impulse says, “We’ll do everything in our power to help you fix whatever’s wrong.”

“Just talk to us, Grian. Please?” Scar asks.

The hermit looks away, at the roof maybe, and his arms encircle the egg, hugging it close to his chest. “I…I don’t know,” he mumbles. “Nothing’s really wrong…exactly…everything’s going well - the train’s making sales, I finished the night sky, I made the buildings, and I’m even starting to fill them.” 

The dark wings shiver behind him and cover his shoulders, almost like a cape. “Everything’s progressing wonderfully,” his voice is still quiet, “Everything’s going great.”

“But?” Impulse asks gently.

He hugs the egg tighter, his wings shift to cover his sides. He doesn’t look at them, at his friends, for a long long moment. “It should’ve hatched by now,” his voice is barely a whisper, barely a breath of air.

The cave is silent again, aside from the mobs that fill the Menagerie of course. 

“Uh, mate, you do know it’s just a, uh, an item right?”

“Mumbo, you can’t say that,” Pearl says. They all know how Grian’s been with the egg, all motherly and protective of it since he got it. They all know that it’s not exactly a normal reaction from their friend, but they can’t just say that or that the dragon egg is just another item of their world, even though it is.

“It’s not,” Grian says over the top of Pearl’s voice. “It’s not just an item,” he says this with absolute certainty, dark eyes almost glaring at the redstoner. “It’s not just an item, it’s not just a trophy, it’s not just a decoration, it’s not just an achievement to be made.” His wings flare slightly, the feathers puffing up. “It is an egg, Mumbo, and it’s supposed to hatch. Eggs are supposed to hatch - the dragon egg is no different.”

Silence.

Absolute silence.

Mumbo chuckles nervously. “R-right, my bad. You’re right.”

Grian stares him down for an uncomfortably long minute, then huffs and turns to look away from everyone. “Of course I am,” he mutters.

“Uh, have you tried making a nest?” Impulse asks. “Birds usually make nests, right?”

At that comment, the hermit practically deflates, and his voice is quiet again, “I tried but I’m no good. They all turn out terrible. I tried making them like birds do but they fell apart. I tried using blankets and pillows but that fell apart too.” He sighs, “no matter what I try, it ends up falling apart and feeling cold and boring and lonely anyway.”

“Maybe we could help?” Scar asks.

“There’s no point,” he mutters, “it’s impossible.” He pulls his wings closer, wrapping them around his body and almost completely blocking the other Boatem crew members from view.

“Well, that sounds like a challenge if I’ve ever heard one,” Pearl says. “If we can break bedrock, then we can build a nest that won’t fall apart or look boring.”

There’s a scoff from behind the dark wings. “Good luck,” Grian mutters with a hint of bitterness in his tone.

“C’mon, boys, we’ve got work to do.” She leaps off the roof and soars away, straight out of the cave.

“We’ll see ya later, G!” Scar follows after Pearl.

Impulse gives him a quiet, “We can figure this out,” and at the same time, Mumbo tells him, “You’ll be chuffed to bits when we do,” and they both drop off the roof and fly after Pearl and Scar.

Grian just sighs heavily once they’re gone. He doesn’t believe them.

*