#ask iri and widdle

[ask-iri-and-widdle]

Shhhhh... they're napping 🤫

(Mochi belongs to @startistdoodles )

[mimikip-stuff]

I was inspired and talking to @startistdoodles (because she is the Kirby master at this point XD) and decided that Widdle needed a companion

Like the Bandana Dee to Kirby

So, introducing Iri! The Astral born from chaos!

Iri, based off "iridescent", was born from Void during the time of Marx's defeat, when his wish from NOVA caused chaos throughout the cosmos. Iri was meant to be jettisoned off immediately, but due to Void's chaotic turmoil and fluctuating temperament, he didn't leave Void's orbit until much later, landing on Permafrost. Widdle Dee found Iri in the nick of time before he froze, taking the young Astral into their care.

Iri is a kind hearted soul who ends up creating his own chaos, running around and making messes by accident. But he does his best to correct his mistakes, even if he does throw a temper tantrum about it ^w^

On another note, what would y'all say to an Iri and Widdle ask blog, like Star has with Prisma? Would you guys want that? Lemme know in the comments!

[lemonscreativeworld]

Dynamic Duo

It appears that battle forges brotherhoods.

A/N: This is for @satanasss666 and their Apprentice, Sven! Who is literally the most handsome fan Apprentice I have ever seen, like dayum. 

Sven grumbled as he jumped and leapt from buildings and poles, angry about the whole situation.

Another fight with the prissy little new meat Asra had brought in that made the bastard storm out. Asra hadn’t gotten in the middle of it, hoping that his two apprentices would work it out for themselves. But apparently not; Widdle Aneirin got his silks in a twist and bounced to go pout.

Just because Sven didn’t feel intimidated by the posh punk. The bastard had been nothing less than an annoying thorn in his side. Always telling him that he shouldn’t be so this or as much of that. Everything Sven did or said was met with sanctimonious criticism that rubbed him the wrong way. It took all of his will-power not to snap his stupid neck.

He clearly remembered when Asra brought him in. Something about their parents being old friends or whatever. He was wearing some ridiculously high quality clothes, with little silk ribbons attached to golden wrist and arm bands. Everything was green and gold with this guy. Not to mention he wore make-up; not that was inherently a bad thing. It was just the fact that even his make-up was gold. He also chose to talk ‘properly’ and ‘with good diction’. It just sounded so stupid to Sven and forced. No one should have that clean of a mouth.

Either way, they got along like oil and fire, and Asra was the tired firefighter trying to keep the peace. He didn’t even know what set Aneirin off so badly this time, just that they were screaming and suddenly he huffed right out of the door. It took a few shocked moments for the other two to realize what happened. Then, they had their own heated exchange as Asra almost demanded Sven go after him to apologize to him. Which was stupid and dumb and he didn’t want to. But Asra was adamant and after several withering looks, he hopped his happy ass out of the door and towards finding him.

The fight had been early in the afternoon and it was just now starting to become dusk. He wondered if he should just head back to the shop now, as he had searched across most of the usual places. The Market, the Town Square, the Community Theater…even that frilly restaurant Aneirin likes to go to sometimes. But there was neither hide nor hair of this little punk and Sven was absolutely done with it all.

He turned to go back to the shop when a familiar looking white creature ran up towards him. The fat little weasel’s fur was dirty and he looked scared. “Dumpling?” He knelt to allow the terrified creature into his arms. Aneirin was an asshole, but Dumpling was a treasure. He always wanted to cuddle up to Sven and he was just so stupidly sweet that there was no way he could hate him.

He was panting heavily and made panicked little squeaking noises that Sven had never heard before. There was a moment of confusion as he wondered why Aneirin would let his most beloved familiar just roam around the streets. It was absolutely unthinkable.

The weasel squeaked again and looked away, towards the Coliseum. He seemed to frantically gesture there, almost as if he wants Sven to go there. Something must be happening and with that though, he tucks Dumpling into one of his pouches and races across town with a fire under his feet. It didn’t take long for him to get to the Coliseum, as he seemed to know the way by heart. Once there, he rushed inside to look for Aneirin but he didn’t have to look very far.

In the center, he could see a large group of men surrounding a single man, as if they were accosting him. The flash of green and gold caught his eye and as he looked harder, he could see that it truly was Aneirin.

“Hey! Iri!” He called out, getting everyone’s attention. “What the fuck?!” Sven started walking towards them, and everyone noticed his limp.

The biggest man, probably the leader, sneered at him. “What’s this, your boyfriend?” His voice was full of condescension. “You’re fucking a crippled? And you won’t fuck us?” He turns to give Aneirin an angry look, which Aneirin returned. He didn’t look scared or intimidated and Sven had to give him credit; the men surrounding him were at least a foot taller than him and way more muscled.

But the term crippled made his blood boil. “I’m not crippled enough to beat all of your asses, you son of bitch!” He hollers, already unsheathing Gertrude and Delilah.

Aneirin seems unimpressed by all of this. “He is not anything near my lover, you brainless brute. But he is my fellow and I suggest you leave before we have to get physical with you.” He huffs, picking up a bag and beginning to walk away. “Of course, I cannot be held accountable for him slicing off your foot for using such vulgar terms for a disabled man but-” He squawked indignantly when the leader grabbed him by the arm and pulled him back, holding him close to the other man’s body.

The leader starts feeling him up, despite Aneirin’s protests. “You think we’re scared of a little crippled? You got big swords, I got an even bigger one, boy!” He started laughing until he felt up Aneirin’s chest and made a quizzical noise. “What…?” The young magician just froze. “You got tits?! You’re a little woman?!”

The smaller man just ripped himself away, storming over to a surprised Sven, his face on fire. There were catcalls and vulgar terms being thrown at Aneirin now, all having to do with his supposedly being a woman. The men were following them and soon enough, they were surrounded.

“Shite.” Sven cursed, looking at all of them. There was about fifteen or twenty of them. He didn’t think he could take them all but he’d never say that. “Just stay behind me, Iri, I’ll protect-”

He was cut off by a crackling sound and the scent of ozone in the air. There was a faint golden glow behind him and he just managed to see Aneirin holding out a rapier, the blade made of golden lightning. Another one formed in his hand and there was a deep pitch to his voice, filled with dark anger. “I’m going to kill this motherfucker.” He snarled, referring to the leader, and Sven felt his eyes widen.

The men seemed taken aback by this but the leader only smiled. “Let’s get ‘em, men!” He took out his own greatsword and the others, emboldened by their leader’s confidence, took out their own weapons.

Sven stood there, dumbfounded for a moment, before he smirked. “Bring it on, bitches!”

“Prepare for the storm!”

The battle was quick but intense. While Sven was built for power and strength, Aneirin was built for speed and agility. Whenever one of the bastards would attack, Aneirin would go in for a few quick disarming strikes before Sven would wreck their shit. His blades were made to shock and disorient, but not to kill. Sven held no reservations and though that wasn’t the purpose of this fight, he couldn’t help the one or two bodies he left in his wake.

Finally, it was just the leader; all of his men were groaning on the ground, some of them twitching. Sven made a move to attack him, but was held back by Aneirin. “I said I was going to kill him.” He dropped his rapiers and the blades disappeared.

The leader, obviously worn down and out of his league, smirked. “You gonna kill me with no weapons? You must be one dumb bitch.”

Aneirin didn’t say a word, just staring at the larger man. With a fluid motion, he swept back the hair hiding his left eye and Sven gaped. The eye had two deep, violent looking scars going from his forehead to his cheekbone, the eye a much lighter gold than his other eye. Suddenly, small bolts of lightning started forming around his eye, growing in power and intensity until his whole eye was covered. Golden light started forming in his hand and the leader took a step back.

“W-Wait, what the fuck?!” He shouted, fear now starting to overtake him.

It would be his last words as Aneirin lifted his hand to the sky, where storm clouds suddenly started forming. In a flash of golden light, lightning struck the leader no less than three times, each time more intense than the last.

Once all was said and done, the leader was nothing more than a charred corpse, unrecognizable. The power around Aneirin’s eye vanished and he fixed his hair to cover his eye again.

Sven had just stood there, dumbfounded the whole time. He was impressed by the display and he jumped when Aneirin spoke. “Did Dumpling come find you?” He asked, still fixing his hair.

“Uh…” Was Sven’s only response.

Suddenly, said weasel jumped out of Sven’s pouch, where he had been the whole time. He rushed over to Aneirin and the man scooped up his baby. “Oh my darling!” He cooed, gently brushing him off. “You are absolutely filthy! I am so sorry to have made you go through all of that, my sweet baby boy!”

The fat creature was soaking up the attention and it brought Sven out of his daze. “What the fuck!” He yelled. “Was that!?” He gestured to the leader. “I didn’t know you could do that!”

Aneirin just looked at him with a small smirk. “You never asked.” Was his simple answer.

“Well…you got me there.”

He laughed, something sweet and tinkling. But then the other apprentice got a little bit serious. “Thank you, Sven, for coming to my rescue. I would have been quite fine by myself, probably, but having you to help was a great relief to me.” He looked away, blushing slightly. “I apologize for the way I have acted towards you. It was unfair and undignified to treat you with such immediate disrespect.”   

That was unexpected. Sven blinked, putting away his swords. “Well…” He grumbled, crossing his arms. “I guess I could try to be a lil’ more friendly, if you’re gonna apologize.”

Aneirin gave him a genuine smile and the soft look in his eyes made Sven blush. “I would like that, darling.” And the pet name, while not unusual for Aneirin, was weird being directed at him.

“Don’t get used to it.” He said and there was that laugh again.

“I believe we should go back, yes? Shall I get a cart for you to ride in?” He asked, and Sven wanted to bite a no but after everything that happened…

“Whatever you wanna do.”

Another smile. “Excellent.” He started out of the Coliseum and before he got too far, he turned around to look at him. “Sven, you know…” Sven looked up at Aneirin, who had a wry look in his eyes. “You made a very dashing figure while we were fighting. You would be a very handsome hero in a romance tale.” With that, he winked at the other apprentice and skipped out of earshot.

Needless to say, Sven just went his own way home.   

[spontaneoushiccups-blog]

Indulgent Divulgence?

*Language Warning*

This whole experience has been such an interesting human experiment. Aside from the obvious emotional roller coaster we have personally been through as a family- it’s been fascinating to watch other people react. This is the first, or I guess I should say the most, really serious life and death thing that has happened to me, to us. I have always been an extreme extrovert, shocking people with my language and opinions since basically I learned how to speak. As I have aged and the sometimes unobviously rigid parameters of propriety have burned me- I have learned when it’s better to just keep my mouth shut- though it often requires special occasion. (I’m certain some people who know me and read that have already balked. “When might that be?”) It took being 29 weeks pregnant to write my first blog post about what’s been happening, but I think a lot of that delay was the moving of the goal posts. It took a long time for us to really understand clearly what was happening. When it first became clear to us that something was really wrong and that we were looking at major health complications for the baby, my step-mom warned me that people would be weird. My twin half sisters were super preemies, so she had been through the NICU nightmare and saw firsthand how people twitched at the thought of a baby tangled up in tubes.

Babies are like these beacons of hope, these beautiful physical representations of the future, of promise, health, fertility, love, sex, procreation, LIFE. Anything else and it’s like a records being dragged backwards against the needle. It just seems unnatural. It ruins the music. And yet- anyone who has been down the road of miscarriage, infertility, poor prenatal diagnosis, and even regular old healthy pregnancy and childbirth and the debilitating fear that tends to go with it, knows that biology can be cruel, and she often is. It’s a darkness that once you’re privy to, you can’t unsee. I recently watched Boss Baby with my 4 year old and I thought of the cartoon mom, “that kid is 7 and they are just having their second? Ugh she probably had some kind of fertility issues. Poor thing.” Or now that I am the size of a large gestating mammalian creature, as I waddle unsubtly down the street, I notice sometimes women avert their gaze, cast their eyes downward like they don’t want to look directly at me and I think, “Oh no. I hope my giant belly isn’t bringing up awful feelings of some post traumatic pregnancy issue- maybe I should tell them it’s not perfect.” But I don’t.

I remember after going through a miscarriage last year being stunned at how painful it was compared to how painful I thought it would be (because every pregnant woman imagines in the long 12-14 weeks before you’re out of the “safe zone” what it might be like to lose the baby.) Based on movies and the general shushed untruth that tends to go hand in hand with all things intimately related to reproduction in general, I didn’t understand how primally shattering that would feel. Though maybe no one does until they do. Everyone would say “it’s just the loss of promise” but it was more than that. It was the first time my body, my inner voice, my sense of confidence in the nature of things- my BIOLOGY completely betrayed me. I remember someone said to me on the phone “this isn’t a tragedy.” I hung up on them. It took months for me to even think about getting pregnant again, and even then I had to plan it six months out to be sure I was ready. I made it a conscious, extroverted effort to not be ashamed of my pain or my experience. To talk as openly as I could about it, no matter how uncomfortable it seemed to make people feel. (You know, in relevant context- I didn’t exactly wear a “ask me about my miscarriage” t-shirt- but...it’s not TOTALLY out of the realm of possibility that I might. Also I live in Portland so.)

1 in 3 women will have a miscarriage. The more I talked about it- the more those stories floated to the surface, and every woman who told me theirs still had that saddness in their eyes, no matter how long it had been, or how far along they were. They call it “suffering a miscarriage” for a reason. In many ways I am grateful for having already learned, and not that long ago, that my sense of what nature should be could be wrong, that the floor can fall out. It's been helpful to know that before we started on this current path with Iris. Somehow, while all this has been obviously painful- it wasn’t as surprising.

Social Media is a funny thing for hyper-extroverts like myself because the self doubt and fear of scrutiny or thought of people I love being embarrassed on my behalf generally doesn’t sink in ‘til a few days after the post. Wait- I am brave for sharing? Does that imply that I am brave for telling people and putting it out there despite what everyone thinks? Oh god, what does everyone think? Oh no- am I exploiting this awful situation for the brief feel-good of a "like"? Or So-and-so didn’t “like” the post, or say anything to me about it. Are they ashamed of my post? Too intimate? Too far?

We had another echocardiogram last week and it was really the first time we got to leave that awful poorly-lit clinic not deflated, in tears. They told us her A/V Valves and Pulmonary arteries are looking strong and healthy, we got to see her sweet face up close, so clear now with her little turned up nose and plump lips, and weighing in at nearly 5lbs it’s looking like she should rival or beat her sisters 8+ lb birth weight. All. Excellent. Things. A huge part of this challenge has been this subconscious inability to picture the future. I think any pregnant woman feels that way to a certain extent, but with this I can barely think past March, much less to preschool, teendom, adulthood? The end of pregnancy is so physically challenging that I feel like the excitement of the promise of your baby that’s just-around-the-corner helps to cushion the blow of the wait and the discomfort. When you aren’t exactly thrilled about the scary impending chapter, you’re just left with sore hips, insomnia, and a baby sea otter lodging its skull into your pelvis at the same time it wiggles it’s little toes up underneath your ribs. The high of the positive doctors visit quickly gave way to it’s sharper edge. Now that it was so easy to picture our big fat beautiful baby, it was also easier to picture them taking her from me; prodding and poking her, opening her chest, sedating her, all of the violent details sinking in leaving me feeling gutted.

I am the head of marketing for Portland Gay Men’s Chorus and we are embarking on a huge year for the company. Beijing Queer Chorus is coming to Portland for their first public performance in the U.S. and PGMC is headed to China in September as the first LGBTQ Chorus to tour there, ever. It’s a big deal because China isn’t exactly up to speed on equal rights when it comes to the gay community, (many members of the BQC still perform wearing masks to protect their identities) and the parallels of where they are today, and where the U.S. was in its early years of the company in the 1980’s are glaring. We are making a video to highlight those parallels and the historic significance of this year for the chorus. So I woke up last Saturday morning and had to go into work downtown to meet with the filmmaker and do the first batch of interviews, despite feeling cloaked with sadness. I knew it would be good to take my mind off things and get out of the house.

Gary was the first up in the interview chair and immediately launched into the raw realities of what it was like to be a gay man in the 70’s and 80’s in America. The unflinching history of being threatened constantly with violence, taught by his mother to walk less gay, losing scores of friends-that-had-become-family to AIDS (in the midst of being blamed for the epidemic) and the constant fight against all odds, just to live authentically. Harvey Milk told them to come out- come out to everyone you know despite what consequences it may bare because to live authentically is the only way to be free. Then they shot and killed him. The founding members made the conscious decision to put “Gay” in the organization name, despite how uncomfortable it made so many feel, because that’s who they were, that was the message they were spreading, and it required that for them, in the name of authenticity, to be acknowledged for who and what they really were. After a lifetime, and generations of suffering from being locked in a closet- so many had to learn by society widdling them down- to just say fuck it, and be their true selves at whatever cost. Anything else is prison.

I am so lucky that I love my job. A huge part of that I think is that I so deeply appreciate an environment with little to no bullshit. I found myself watching Gary’s interview feeling relieved and affirmed. Doing something bigger than yourself is always important for perspective, but doing something in the name of authenticity is imperative to human growth. While I completely understand not everyone is as extroverted as I am, I am confident in the ways I have chosen to handle this. To not be scared to talk about it.To be upfront with my experience and my feelings, despite trepidation of what others might think. If only for the hope that someone else out there- living with their own raw and real life situations, feeling trapped in their own closets, wearing their own kinds of masks to shield themselves from what society might think or do, that they might take comfort in knowing they’re not alone, either.

5 weeks til she is born.

ps- I would be remiss not to link to this concert. I will be in UT in the hospital with Iris- but if you're in Portland you should really go. March 17 & 18, Kaul Auditorium at Reed College. https://www.pdxgmc.org/concerts-tickets/

[mosylufanfic]

Forgiveness (you can’t imagine)

Just working some things out, because we all know we probably won't get this in canon. Written for my dear @valeriemperez

And yes, I know the Hamilton reference in the title isn’t perfect. That’s on purpose.

Forgiveness (you can't imagine)

Iris almost ran through the curving halls of Star Labs, her shoes squeaking on the smooth floor. She cut through the cortex, her heart beating too fast even for the run, and made for the med lab.

She caught the flash of white hair and stopped dead. Animal fear jittered in her stomach. She swallowed it down and said clearly, "I don't know why I thought they might be kidding."

Caitlin Snow - Killer Frost - straightened up from her computer. "Iris," she said.

"What are you doing here?"

"Working. What does it look like?"

"Those idiots," Iris said, staying well back. She carried a taser now, a nasty little piece of work, and its weight in her pocket was a snarling comfort.  "I mean, Julian loves you so of course he wants you back. And Cisco, well, I guess it's habit by now, isn't it? Even after all those times you tried to kill him. But what on earth made you think I'd be okay with this?"

"Nothing," the other woman said. "I don't expect you to be okay with this at all."

Iris didn't know what to call her. On the way back from the cemetery, Barry had filled her in on what she'd said after HR's funeral, and it sounded like so much bullshit to her. If she wasn't Caitlin and she wasn't Killer Frost, then what was she?

"You think you can just come back here and pick up your old life after two months like nothing happened? Like you never helped to kill HR? Like you never would have done the same to me?"

"I know what I did," Frost said. "And I'm sorry. For everything I did, especially to you."

"Is that supposed to make it better?"

"I don't expect anything from you."

"Nothing is exactly what you're getting."

"Yes, you've made that clear." She tapped her pale fingers on the desk. Iris couldn't stop herself from staring at her nails, unpainted and cut short. She remembered when they'd been blue and claw-like, and when mist had drifted off them even at rest.

They weren't misting now. Did that mean something?

"Fuck you," Iris said, and turned to go yell at Cisco until they kicked her out. Preferably to the Arctic Circle, where she couldn't do any more harm than the landscape.

"You were willing to forgive and rehabilitate Savitar," Frost said loudly. Her voice echoed around the med lab. "And he didn't even ask for it. Why am I different? Is it because I don't wear Barry's face?"

It stopped Iris dead. She remembered how easy it had been, to look at Savitar, not-Barry-but-still-Barry, and see the pain underneath the rage and the madness in his well-loved eyes.

"I killed Savitar in the end," she said. And she still woke up in cold sweat sometimes, seeing his dear familiar frame arch backward against the impact of the bullet. Barry, not Barry. "Did you miss that?"

"No," Frost said. "But you gave him a chance first. He was the one who squandered it."

Iris snorted.

"Cisco and Julian might have admitted me back here, by the way. They might even have forgiven me. I don't know. But they don't trust me. There are temperature sensors every five feet in this room. Every ten feet in the rest of the building. They're downstairs working on the rest of the system right now. If the temperature dips by so much as five degrees, then - well, I don't know what'll happen. But Cisco designed it, so it'll be effective."

She turned then. "Well, naturally. The protectors of Central City aren't total idiots," she said, although this was news to her. Maybe Cisco had been going to tell her about it, but she'd ended the call and raced over here before he could, ignoring the buzz of her phone in her pocket.

"You don't trust me, you won't forgive me, but you need me, and you know it. That's why you haven't told me to my face to get out."

Iris swallowed.

As if the disappearance of the Flash had been a finger pulled out of a dam, the Central City underworld was spilling over, rising up. Cisco and Wally were doing their best, and their best was very good. They got the occasional helping hand from Cynthia, when she could come over from Earth-19, and backup from Iris and Julian.

But it wasn't enough, and they all knew it.

And Iris might be repulsed in every inch of her skin, looking at the woman who had once been a friend, but she loved her city with every inch of her skin, too - something Cisco would have reminded her of when she went to demand Frost's ousting.

The question wasn't whether Killer Frost could help. Besides the simple consideration of another pair of hands, cold powers could fill in a lot of gaps where speed and vibes didn't cover. The question was whether they could trust her to be there when they needed her.

"Why was it so easy for you to turn?" she said. "Savitar I understood. He'd been marinating in pain and rage for thousands upon thousands of years. But you - all it took was - "

"Dying," Frost said calmly, tapping a few keys on the computer and studying the effect. "I died. And what came back wasn't - wasn't entirely me."

"What did come back?"

Her hands stilled. "I don't really know," she said. "I'd like to think it was something else entirely, but I can't lie to myself like that anymore. I think - that it was the worst of me. The rage. The loss. The helplessness. All the things I'd been locking away because there wasn't time, was there? There's never time to feel any of that. Not in this place."

Iris wanted to spit at her. Wanted to scorn her. Poor widdle Caitlin, were your feelings too much for you?

But she had a point. There wasn't time to feel everything there was to feel. Not at Star Labs, not protecting Central City. You had to pack it away and get on with things. There was no other choice.

Sometimes in the night, in her too-big bed, Iris's own loss and sorrow yawned like a pit of darkness in her belly. She stood on the precipice feeling its hot breath and thought, What if I just let it eat me alive?

"Why were your powers part of that?"

"Something about the cold, I suppose. Or maybe it's because I'd spent a year listening to my mother and my best friend telling me that my powers would consume me, just like all those other things would consume me if I let them. It seemed a reasonable conjunction."

"Oh, did it," Iris said faintly.

"What came back didn't care," Frost said. "And what came back didn't want to care. It was so very freeing. You have no idea. Caring was desperately painful at the best of times, and when it stopped - She didn't want to go back to that. She wanted to surgically excise everything that ever made her care. I suppose it's why I targeted Cisco so often."

"And now you care again," Iris said. "That's heartwarming. It is."

"Believe me or don't," she said coolly. "But I care about Central City. And Star Labs. I care about Cisco. And Julian and Wally. About Cynthia. And - whether you believe it or not - about you."

"And what if you decide that you don't care, again?"

She nodded a little, as if she'd been waiting for this question. She reached out and laid what looked like a tiny remote down on the edge of the desk closest to Iris. "There. That's for you."

"What is it?"

She pointed at a tiny metal circle on the desk in front of her. "It controls this."

"That doesn't answer my question."

"Press the button and find out."

Iris leaned over and stretched out her hand to pick up the remote. Maybe this was a trick, she thought. Maybe this was poison to the touch, or -

She hit the button. Her thumb, slick with sweat, slipped.

Lightning arced out of the device on the desk, leaping to the computer, which let out a high pitched noise. The screen went white and then black. A wisp of smoke leaked out the top and a strong smell of scorched electronics filled the room.

"Oh shit," Iris said involuntarily.

"Hmmm," Frost said. "Did you hit it twice?"

"Uh, yeah. I just fried your computer, in case you didn't notice." Caitlin would have been squeaking like a trodden mouse right now.

Frost shrugged. "Everything is backed up to the cloud."

"What is that?"

"It's for me. I'm going to implant it here." She touched her neck.

"A shock collar?"

"If you like." She tapped her fingers again. There was something nervous in the movement. "Cisco gets all the credit for his gadgets, but everyone seems to forget that I trained as a bioengineer as well. My designs maybe aren't as elegant - " She looked ruefully at the fried computer - "but they'll get the job done. One press was all it would have taken. Two would - well, you saw."

The fried computer wisped smoke.

"That'll kill you."

"Probably."

Iris dropped the remote. It clattered to the floor. "I can't do that," she said. "I can't hold your life in my hands. I'm not you."

"Is that referring to Caitlin or to Killer Frost?" she asked softly.

Iris had no answer for that.

"Take it or don't," Frost said. "But that's what I'm offering. Not platitudes. Not more apologies. Not reassurances. Those are all just words and we both know it."

Iris leaned down to pick up the remote. It felt far heavier than it had a right to do. She stared at it. "Change the setting," she said abruptly.

"To a no-kill?"

Iris looked up. "Change the setting so I have to do it deliberately," she said. "I refuse to kill you by accident if you're being useful."

Emotion flickered across her pale face. If she’d still been Caitlin, Iris had a feeling she would have recognized it. She took a measured breath. "A one-second lag should do it," she said, making a note to herself.

"You need this back?"

"Just for a moment." She picked up the evil little device and took the remote, moving to another computer out in the cortex. She hooked it up, made some adjustments, and then unplugged it. She handed it back and moved the device to an empty table.

Iris hit the button twice, fast, the way she had before. It sparked, but not like it had before. She hit the button, counted one Mississippi in her head, and hit it again. Electricity arced wildly, starting a small fire on a greasy rag sitting a little too close.

Frost put out her hand and froze it before it could grow into a large fire. It withered and died, smoking feebly.

Iris didn't want to, but she couldn't stop the wild tremors at the spill of mist, at the wash of cold. Somewhere off in the distance, an alarm started hooting wildly.

A portal opened up and Cisco leapt through it, teeth bared. "Hey," he snarled.

"Everything's fine," Frost said, shutting her hands so the mist dissipated. "Just taking care of a fire. You shouldn't leave greasy rags lying around, you know."

Cisco looked at Iris.

"It's fine," she said, forcing her words to stay steady, not to tremble. "All of it." She closed her hand around the remote. "Okay. She stays."

The snarl melted away and he just looked baffled. "That easy?"

"We've discussed terms and conditions," Frost said. "We've come to an understanding, haven't we, Iris?"

"Yes," Iris said. "We have."

"Okay," he said, still looking a little baffled.

He watched Frost for a long moment, and Iris turned away from the look on his face. She wondered if this was going to be okay for him, being this close to the person who'd once been his best friend.

"Uh. In that case, I should - I left something - " He gestured vaguely labward.

"Sure," Iris said. "Go on."

He didn't pull open another portal, but walked this time, his shoulders tense as if he was trying not to look back at Frost's eyes following him.

Iris had to look away from that, too.

When he'd disappeared around the bend, Frost said in her steady, calm voice, "I'll let Cisco know when I've implanted it. You can come by and test it."

Iris narrowed her eyes. "Does he know what this is?"

"Of course not," she said. "He would hate it."

"He really would," Iris said, and put the remote in her pocket. "All right. I've just wasted my lunch hour on this, so I should get going long enough to at least grab a sandwich on the way back." She started toward the door.

"Iris."

She didn't want to, but she stopped and looked back over her shoulder.

"I'm sorry about Barry," she said.

Light from the windows caught her eyes. They were brown. Caitlin's eyes. It also glinted on the ice-white of her hair.

"We're getting him back," Iris said. "We are. I have the date saved."

"I know," the other woman said, and went back to her lab.

As Iris walked out of the cortex, the weight of a life rode in her pocket.

It felt unsettlingly good.

FINIS

[promptodiary]

095

Dear Diary:

gladio and iggy totally vanished! ((((；゜Д゜)))

so noct and i went on a top secret mission to find them (๑•̀ㅂ•́)و✧

but we found mr tuliptoes instead, which was even better o((*^▽^*))o

... until noct decided that he just had to go fish up a nice fresh fish for “the pretty widdle kitty-witty.” (；￣Д￣）

sometimes... i’m worried that my best friend is way too dorky... o(≧∇≦o)

a-anyway, then monica cooked the fish and talked about how much she missed her cats... i feel kind of bad for her, having to leave them behind... ｡ﾟ(ﾟ´Д｀ﾟ)ﾟ｡

but i left noct to feed the cat because talcott kept asking about my camera (*^ω^*)

i... i think he’s the one that borrowed it before... (・・。)ゞ

well, he didn’t break anything... and it’s... kinda cute, how excited he got trying it out~ ｡(*^▽^*)ゞ

and iris was cool enough to play model for us! (☆^ー^☆)

but... it was getting pretty dark, so we had to head back in （；へ：）

they’re... they’re not gonna stay in the lighthouse forever, right? (｡ŏ﹏ŏ)

[ask-iri-and-widdle]

@ask-prismaknight 's Mochi wanted to show off his powers and Iri decided to try it too! Unfortunately, he can't shapeshift like Mochi- but he can float instead!

[ask-iri-and-widdle]

Premonitions Part 1

[ask-iri-and-widdle]

Happy Halloween!!

You guys voted, so here you go!

They come from another world, another planet. And they are here.....for your candy! 🍬👽🍭

Iri and Widdle, the duo from space! And yes, Widdle has a bubble blaster XD

[ask-iri-and-widdle]

Here she is! In all of her green glory: SPROUT KNIGHT!!

(I finally managed to get her done now that Ink Demonth is over! She is open for questions with the rest of the gang!)

In case the text is too small: Sprout was a knight in the GSA when it was booming and successful, stationed on Popstar. While there, the GSA had been gifted a Miracle Fruit from the People of the Sky, (that gives Kirby his Supernova ability in KTD) that was then stolen by agents of Dark Matter. She was tasked with getting it back and did so successfully....at a price. Her wounds could not be cured with the Miracle Fruit she returned and she passed away. However, due to her sacrifice and the power of the fruit, her soul was stabilized and she returned to Popstar as a tiny sprouting plant, laying dormant until she would be needed again with Morpho and Lumia. (Lumia belongs to @ask-prismaknight /startistdoodles)

I hope you love her as much as I do, and I hope to see her interact with all of you and your characters!

[ask-iri-and-widdle]

So I'm working on a comic and I couldn't help but meme a little XD

The comic is coming along nicely, but I am dying with space backgrounds hhhhh so many little stars

[ask-iri-and-widdle]

"Hey everyone! Widdle here! Sorry for the lack of posts and such, we're getting the castle ready for Halloween! There's a lot of decorations to put up, treats to bake, and costumes to sew! This will be Iri's first ever Halloween!"

"Actually- what do you think would be a good costume for Iri and I? Should we match or do separate costumes? Please mail in your ideas!!"

Event start: Pumpkins and Puffballs!

[ask-iri-and-widdle]

Okay! I've come up with some ideas for costumes for Widdle and Iri! Please vote on what you'd like to see. Poll ends October 30th!

[ask-iri-and-widdle]

Sorry for the silence, friends! I've been very busy with the holidays and life! Plus, I've been trying to think up a good story for Iri and how he'll become a big warrior one day

I promise this blog is not at all dead! Please feel free to send asks, send hellos, and don't be afraid to ask if you wanna see a little doodle of the orb and the Dee!

Love you all!

[ask-iri-and-widdle]

"Copy?"

"Indeed! After observing Kirby and talking to Meta and Prisma, Astrals have the ability to copy things in nature and different weapons. Iri can do this, but it seems that the copy abilities...become different looking. They appear to be cosmetic changes for now, but we have yet to discover any other differences."

[ask-iri-and-widdle]

There are creatures in this universe, in this world, that will do terrible things to get their way.

Rise up against the darkness, little one. Only your light can save us all...

Introducing the newest villain to the Kirby oc universe: The Huntsman, Diamondo

Diamondo (or Huntsman, doesn't matter) is a being of darkness and Dark Matter who sat in the shadows and watched as one by one, the Dark Matter beings were defeated by Kirby and the others. Slowly biding his time, he searched for the origin of Light and Dark: Void, but couldn't reach it due to it being trapped inside of Void Termina. Once Kirby and the others freed it, Diamondo used the fading energy of Termina to forge special needles of Dark Matter.

Who knows what he intends to do with them? Well...they don't call him the Huntsman for nothing...