#with them talking about throwing the mask into lava and wifies goes ‘i can do it’

[popcornsupernova]

holy what the fuck i need more

ASJDKNSALK SORYR IM BACK AM I TOO LATE. i seekomz mask ken. . .. . ..,,,.,ifyour reqs are closed it's gen OKAY BUIESHK FHAIDKJBHDSHJKFADGUVBVS HVHCD HKBJSC ADHA BSBKHCJN SBJCHDN JN DBSADN CBDJKLADVZHJKLDMADJKMN D

you were, in fact, too late for the original request period, but this made me laugh real bad so im christening this round of requests with it. to everyone who has been waiting diligently, i present to you: omz mask Ken bullying Wifies in an escape room. enjoy!

Word count: 995

He’s sloughing off skin next to this deep, bubbling lava pool. It's a disgusting feeling, like he’s going to melt into a puddle of sludge if he stands here any longer; he thinks about Ken traversing the Nether with banners, lava lapping at the fraying fabric edges, and garners a new appreciation for what Ken is willing to go through for a good puzzle.

“You’re cute when you’re thinking hard.”

That’s not Ken, he tells himself. It’s not. It’s not Ken, even though it sounds like him. It’s not Ken, even as Ken’s green and yellow sneakers dip into his sightline, even as he looks up and sees the familiar stack of hoop earrings on his green ear.

The mask is a powdery white, like fungal spores, like sickly pale moss, like a spreading infection that saps all the warmth out of the exposed skin of Ken’s face. He’s smiling, cheek bunched up and lip barely visible in its arc, but his golden eye is empty.

“Stuck?”

Wifies is trying to channel some of that infamous stubbornness everyone says he possesses. He doesn’t glare or rise to the bait, has been as diligent as possible in doing this by himself, even though his body is starting to ache and his mind is slowing down. Sure, he was made for this kind of thing, but it’s been hours— probably closer to a full day than not, though the sun doesn’t move here. It’s all bedrock and barriers and sunshine that makes his eyes sting.

“You’re so quiet!”

Ken— not-Ken— the body lounges in mid air, tail swaying imperiously as Wifies is looked down upon. An ear flicks, the clicking of hoops filling the air. Wifies keeps poking through his inventory over and over, trying to figure out what he’s going to do to get across the lava. Blocks rotate in his grip, a splintering wooden sword landing last.

“Oh no, are you mad at me? Is that it? I know it’s a hard puzzle, but you’re smart.”

He sounds smiley, the way he does when he knows he’s made something that’s going to drive Wifies insane. Wifies is so prone to binary thinking in these rooms that it’s easy to turn him around if it’s a puzzle that’s unintuitive enough.

“Do you want to know a secret?”

That mask fills his vision, upside down and as sickening as ever. Wifies can’t control the way he flinches. The gold eye squints the way Ken always does when he thinks Wifies has done something particularly affection-inducing.

“Heh, cute. The secret is this: you can’t get out of here.”

Wifies doesn’t believe that. He can’t believe that, more than anything.

“It’s so sad that you won’t talk to me,” a hefty sigh, ears pinning down. “Maybe if you did, I could’ve told you that you left behind some important blocks. Conserve resources, Wifies, when will you learn?”

He wants— something just as hot and awful as the lava fills him. He’s not the only stubborn one.

“What the hell is your problem?” Wifies finally snaps, taking a step back.

“Problem? I’m golden.”

Those sneakers thud as they land on bedrock, heavy and casual. Wifies steps back, and back, and back until his back hits a wall.

“Be more specific,” it tilts its head, curious and playful and not Ken.

“Why are you doing this? Putting me through escape room after escape room?”

“I’m not the one who wants to do that,” it clicks its tongue. “I’ve already seen you do this rat race again, and again, and again. Him, on the other hand. . .”

There’s that smile again. A clawed finger presses into his jaw. It’s cold and sharp. A reminder.

“He’s so fascinated by you. It was easy. All I did was—”

It’s a horrible, delicious crack. The pommel of the sword lands true— he’s better at this than Ken probably realized, movements honed, violence desensitized— and the body flails. Flipping the sword in his hand, the flat part of the blade becomes his bat as he swings again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and—

And it cracks in half, despawning over Ken’s bloody head, mask dislodged in the assault. He ignores Ken. He has to ignore Ken. He’s been ignoring Ken this whole time. He can ignore him for a while longer. He can ignore the gored heap on the floor that is Ken. He can ignore Ken and the welts swelling up on his palms and the wet, slick feeling of viscera on his face. He picks the mask up.

It trembles. Or he trembles. It’s impossible for him to tell.

There’s a saturation beacon somewhere nearby. He has to be fast.

He makes his way to the edge of the lava pool and falls to his knees next to it, eyes on the mask the whole time. He closes his fingers through the eyehole tightly. He dunks his hand and mask into the lava, keeps going down until it’s to his elbow, and holds.

The smell of burning flesh is something beyond nauseating. It’s inhuman, is what it is, a violation of natural order and harmony. But Wifies keeps his arm in it until he can’t anymore, until the muscles in his hands spasm and burn away and the mask drops into the bottom of the pool.

It takes everything he has left to not fall head first into the pit. He sways backwards and lands on the floor, pulling his hamstrings as he fails to straighten his legs out. It's just one more pain to register, between the burning in his body and the burning of the sun. He hasn’t slept in days, he’s pretty sure. Rolling onto his good side, he watches Ken’s body, watches it jerk and stutter as saturation forces it back together.

His eyes feel heavy. He closes them, just for now.