Grian oneshots

The one who got lost (1/2)

Genre: angst

TW: none

Characters: Grian, Scar, Xisuma, Mumbo, others

I've had this idea in my head for SO GODDAMN LONG if this isn't perfect I'll do something to either my phone or myself

Do not kill me for inaccuracies because if you want then go back to the beggining of the book.

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It was a normal day of building for Grian. He realised that he run out of mycelium blocks he needed both for his mushroom build and to stack his shop. He was the mother spore after all.

He gathered all he needed for the trip, food, a few shulker boxes, netherite tools and torches for possible mining. He estimated the best coordinates for the next mushroom island and, after making sure it wasn't already used by someone else, took off.

He of course also said a goodbye to his husband, though nobody knew the mayor was that, the enemies act still kept up by the two.

He flew at day and found small places to stay for the night, as the journey elongated to at least a week. He checked his coordinates every hour, at night also texting Scar.

He was flying fast, sure of the direction he flew in. He used a spyglass and saw the small gray dot of a mushroom island and with confidence sped up.

He soon reached his destination, feet hitting the moist ground softly. He looked around with a wide smile, taking in the odd beauty and peace of the island. He started carefully picking mushrooms from the mycelium dirt, then proceeding to chop down the bigger ones.

By the time he was done it was night and for the first time in a long time Grian could fall asleep stargazing, not needing to build a roof above his head as the biome made it impossible for any aggressive mobs to spawn.

He woke up refreshed, collected his bed and got to digging. It didn't take long thanks to the maxed out shovel.

He soon was finished and it was finally time to go back. He dug his hand into his special pocket to find out what way to go thanks to his communicator dialing as a map.

His hand met nothing.

His panic rose as he searched every single pocket he had and every shulker box.

Absolute nothing.

He was left there.

In the middle of nowhere.

No way to get back as he took many turns during his adventure.

Oh no.

Back at hermitcraft people were panicking. They knew Grian left for mycelium, but he always answered texts if not during the day, then after sundown.

It's been three days since he last answered.

Scar was panicking most. The truth about him and Grian being secretly married quickly came out and that made the hermits feel even more pity and worry.

Two days later Xisuma managed to locate where was the communicator's last signal from. He imidietly took off, gaining the highest speeds with his elytra thanks to the amount of fireworks everyone lent him.

As the admin arrived at the red dot, he looked around to see only water, no matter where he looked. He decided to dive in a small bit of hope still there. It left imidietly as he saw a broken screen of a communicator at the very bottom.

He came back with bad news that would undoubtedly impact everyone forever, especially Scar.

"I'm sorry, I only found his communicator... There is no point in trying to find him, it was on the bottom of the sea in the middle of nowhere. I think we have to deem Grian as either missing or dead." They made a memorial in his name.

Scar couldn't take it as he himself took off to the island his husband left to. Upon his arrival he saw it was emptied, but there was no sign of his beloved. He came back and told everyone, that sparked a small bit of hope in their hearts that maybe, just maybe, they'll see Grian again.

Meanwhile grian decided to try and get back to Hermitcraft. He didn't know the direction, so it was hard. He tried flying, but quickly realised it was no use, as he could be flying in a completely wrong direction. He decided to stick to traveling on land.

Days passed, months, and he still pushed on. His clothes torn, instincts wilder then ever. He had quick reflexes and his strength grew with every mob encounter.

It's been months, maybe even a year, Grian didn't know. He just kept travelling. He made a compass that he stuck to, knowing that he built his base north of the island as he checked all of this time ago.

He had just set out a camp as something weird ran by in the shadow. Grian got up on high alert.

Then, out of a bush, came a dog.

Villages didn't have dogs.

It carefully approached him, then sniffed his hand and it's tail started wagging. That dog recognised him.

Grian pet the dog, soon finding a collar on it's neck. The small golden circle attached to it said "Crimson".

It was one of Pearl's dogs.