Hermitcraft oneshots

.•⦁ One, Singular, Winner ⦁•.

Alternative title: Fight, Puppet Boy!
Genre: angst ;)
Notes/prompt/idea: no spoilers 🤭
Request: @Hermit-of-fanfic
Ship: Scarian
TW: fighting, just everything that comes up when you think of fighting, watchers, possession, puppetry, death/murder.
(HELP- POSSESSION autocorrected to POSEIDON.)
(tell me if I missed any?)

Hope you like it!

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Grian had been recruited for Gem's new secret fight club with Joel.
The conversation going something like this:

"Wanna join a secret club?"

"What sort of club? Cause I'm not going to join another cult."

"Another cult?! Never mind that, a fight club."

"What do you do there?"

"It's in the name! But we practice PvP skills with different weapons and different tactics/styles."

"Sure."

And that's how Grian joined the fight club.

Gem called monthly matches —because Joel wasn't very good at planning these things out— to make sure the club got together to learn from one another.

And Grian did amazing in the first few meetings and matches! He won third at sword fighting, second at trident PvP, fourth at archery, and first at crossbows (which surprised him as well).

And he had been exited for those first meetings! But now that he stood here, in Cleo's arena, he felt sick.

The air inside the arena was dry and smelled of sweat, which made him feel uneasy. This was already something Grian hated with all his heart. But a second later, he had found something new to hate, the words that came out of Gem's mouth.

"And now," he raised her voice to get over the noise of the group, "we will be doing... hand to hand combat, no armor or weapons, just fists."

He froze, unsure of what to say or do. At last he turned his head, toward a certain scarred man.
The man looked back, holding his same scared stare.

Grian wanted to run away, or ask to sit out, but he couldn't move or speak. It was as if an invisible force was holding him in place, stealing his words so he couldn't talk.

He struggled against the hands holding him down, but they only let loose when Gem was down with her speech and asked everyone to take a seat.

He tried to walk to a seat on his own, but the hands forced him to a seat with the best view of the fights.
And then he was held there, unable to speak or move, just wishing this nightmare were over.

The first duo stepped into the ring, Cleo and Cub. They threw punch after punch, letting blood flow from cuts and noses, coating the floor with it.

But Cleo had used sand for the floor, so it slowly trickled away, leaving just a red stain and the strong smell of blood.

Grian tried to scream, to run away, but all he found himself doing was nodding and clapping as Cleo knocked Cub out with one last punch.

It was sickening, making his insides churn with disgust. He watched as duo after duo stepped into the ring, only one stepping out after the match was over. It was all too similar.

But then it was his turn.

His turn.

The hands forced him up and into the ring.