I’m not late, you’re just EARLY. Have some dickkory feels for dickkory week 2017, with a dash of Mar’i because I love her and DC needs to make it HAPPEN.
Dick Grayson experienced life with Kor’iandr in threes.
On his third mission as the Teen Titan’s newly appointed
leader, it had been the fateful day that he had met her.
The only word at the time that entered Dick’s mind the
minute he’d laid eyes on the powerful warrior woman before him, was stunning. From the shock of her thick,
rich, flame red curls to the eerie glow of her bright, flashing green eyes, he’d
known he stood no chance.
From the moment she’d kissed him, Richard Grayson was a dead
Their relationship from that point onwards was a roller
coaster ride of tumultuous proportions. More often than not, they were
passionate lovers, for how could anyone be anything less around a woman of
Starfire’s caliber? However, there were three separate occasions of which they were
something more than friends, but not quite a definition of romance.
Three instances where he’d broken her heart, like the menace
that he felt he was, for who else but a monster could turn away a creature as lovely as her?
Yet each and every time, Kory’s kindness and forgiveness
knew no bounds. She maintained their friendship, loved him thoroughly through the years,
regardless if they were involved or not. Her feelings for him never changed,
never waned, and he would always have a friend in her, no matter what.
They were always close, and maybe that was why it was so
easy to fall back into a relationship with her. Like magnets, they were drawn
to one another, unable to function without the other in their lives in some
fashion. Kory was more than just a
teammate and a lover; she was important to him, and no matter what, that never
changed. Lovers came and went between the both of them, but to one another, they were always constant.
It should have been a sign.
Truthfully, he should have seen it coming.
“When this is all over, Dick Grayson, you’re going to marry
me,” she’d informed him quite bluntly in the midst of a heated battle.
It came off sounding almost like a threat, but one made in
obvious jest to help lighten the seriousness of the situation they were in. An apocalypse
usually did bring out any remaining last regrets and secret wishes from the
lips of those losing the war, especially in a never-ending battle with the
world destroyer, Trigon.
“If you’re proposing to me, Kory, then the answer is yes,”
he’d retaliated, not without a cocky grin as he took out yet another of Trigon’s
He heard her scoff in between heavy breaths while she
expertly dodged attack after attack before blasting her enemies with a furious
swipe of her starbolts. “Do not flatter yourself, Nightwing. On Tamaran,
marriage proposals are only considered prosperous if they are met in bloodshed!”
Starfire let out a fierce battle cry as she uppercut a demon
and sent them flying into the air. Richard punched another in the nose, feeling
the cartilage and bones crunch beneath his knuckles. “Looks like plenty of bloodshed to me,
Kory.” He wiped at the dried blood smeared under his nose, around his mouth,
and along the side of his head, where it matted strands of his ochre coloured
That earned him a gleeful smirk, along with a chuckle of
amusement from the warrior princess, who although did appear strained, did not
seem to have suffered any wounds at all. “Consider it a done deal, then,
Richard. However, if you are truly worthy of being my husband, then you will
need to survive this!”
Nightwing brushed his wet hair from his face, the sweat
streaming down the sides of his handsome visage due to exertion. “If that isn’t one hell of a
motive, I don’t know what is!” He shouted, taking on his infamous stance as he
beckoned the swarm of demon spawn to come at him.
However, once Raven helped banish Trigon to another
dimension yet again, and the other Titans helped eradicate the remaining vermin, Starfire and Nightwing stood still amidst the lifeless bodies of the creatures they’d slain, and breathed deeply.
It had been a joke, hadn’t it?
Yet, when his eyes met hers, Richard Grayson knew that he
was going to marry this battle worn goddess of a woman, and judging by the tug
of a smile on her lovely lips, she knew it, too. With a smile so wide it hurt, he then took her hand in his, never
more grateful to know that not only would he live, but that he’d spend the
remainder of his days with the golden girl of his dreams.
“I believe it is a human custom for you to purchase me a ring?”
She grinned, and his heart leapt at the sight of her unabashed, glowing beauty.
She was a mess; her flame-like hair askew, a tangle of vibrant
curls and luscious locks. Bits of mortar and rock could be found in her
tresses. Her outfit, already so revealing of her golden complexion, was torn
and covered in the blood splatters of her enemies. Her face was marred with
soot and ash, but still her luminescent eyes glowed, and Richard could lose
himself in their green pools for the rest of his life.
Which was what he planned to do.
Together, hand in hand, they walked away from the scene of the battle, giddy
and bubbling with the excitement of starting their new life together.
“I suppose this is a bad time to tell you that I am with child…?”
Kory suddenly intruded, albeit sheepishly.
And that was how Richard Grayson was defeated; not by an
army of demons born from hell, not by Trigon the terrible, but by the mere notion of being a father.
Dick experienced things with Kor’iandr in threes.
On the anniversary of their wedding day, three years later,
which also happened to fall on their sweet daughter, Mar’i’s birthday, Kory had
given him yet another surprise.
“Twins,” she told
him gleefully, throwing her arms around his shoulders in a staggering hug. “Can
you believe it?! Oh, Richard, on Tamaran, twins are considered a true blessing! A symbol of endless love
She squeezed him tighter, all the while Mar’i ran around
them in circles, shouting, “Twins! Twins! Twins!” He’d gotten their daughter a pastel pink balloon to celebrate her birthday, and she dashed about while it trailed behind
her, trying hopelessly to keep up with the toddler. Her hair, dark like her father’s but thick and curly
like her mother’s, was already well past her shoulders and down the small of
Dick hugged his taller wife tightly, drowning any doubts or lingering
feelings of dread with the sheer joy and love he felt for her and his daughter; his new family.
He smiled into her hair, the smell of strawberry and vanilla in his nose, and gushed into
her ear, “Looks like I’ll be outnumbered if one of them is a girl. Three to
one, maybe two? I can’t wait, Kory. I can’t wait to meet them.”
He looked up to kiss her sweetly then, not caring for the strange
stares he received from the others in the doctor’s office, as well as the
disgusted face Mar’i made in response. She stuck out her tongue and shook her
Summary: In this colorless world, her vision was painted with streaks of the rainbow whenever she saw him and that was enough to start a rebellion.
“Good job, kid.”
Jungkook laughed as Yoongi’s hand made contact with his
head, ruffling his hair, and as Jimin tackled him in a large hug, forcing a
kiss upon his cheek. Jungkook clutched his diploma tightly in his hands as the
other boys pushed themselves onto Jungkook, ignoring the strange whispers and
murmurs as the higher-class judged them. Jungkook heard a quick whisper of
“he’s an orphan” because the boys detached themselves from his back but
continued the praises.
So many of my friends talk about how they can’t be taller than their boyfriends, or shorter than their girlfriends, and so many have bemoaned the fact that because they’re the same or nearly the same height as their boyfriends they can’t wear heels, and I swear down, one day I am gonna have a wife much taller than me, and when we go to fancy events I will encourage her to wear her high heels, and we will spit on all of those insecure people who think men have to be taller than women all the time, and I will gaze up, at her lovingly, in front of anyone who has a camera.
Summary: Lance takes Keith home to meet his family.
Just to let you know, I didn’t translate, like, any of the Spanish. Also, Lance is Cuban and I only speak Mexican-Spanish. So. Let me know if I messed up anywhere. Go ahead and reblog.
“They’re gonna love you,” Lance assures, gravel crunching under their feet. The air is thick and hot and sweet, but Lance says it is always like this on the island, started talking about yellow mango and guava fruits from the moment they got here.
Keith lets out a shaky breath, nodding, although he doesn’t believe it at all. Not that he has much experience; not having a family kind of means you have no idea if one would like you.
“Ay, amor,” Lance says, turning around to look Keith in the eye. Since they touched down here, Lance has been speaking almost nothing but Spanish, and he’s barely spoken to anyone he knows yet. He says just being around it makes it all come back. “They’ll love you. They love everybody.”
“But I have no idea how to–” Keith pauses. “I don’t know, be in a family. Like that. I don’t–”
“Keith, tesoro, they will think you’re the best thing to ever happen to us.” Lance smiles slightly. “Alright? Don’t worry.”
Keith nods, biting at his lip. “Okay.”
“But watch out for Alma. She might try to take a bite out of you. Or she’ll ask you who tops, and she’s a sneaky one, alright, so just don’t respond when she says anything.”
“What?!” Keith all but squeaks.
“I’m kidding!” Lance amends, laughing. “Well, mostly. She will be nosy though. Don’t worry, Julia keeps her in line.”
Keith finds himself trying to remember the names; Julia’s the eldest sister. Then there’s Alma, and then Lance, and then the youngest, Luz.
“C'mon, champ,” Lance says, turning around again. “Let’s do this.”
When they knock, the door bursts open in an instant to reveal several smiling faces, some more devious than others, but most are purely innocent.
“Mamá!” Lance cries, hugging one of the older women, one of his moms, Keith realizes.
“Ay, is Pilar the only one who gets love from her only son now, eh?” the woman standing next to her asks.
Lance releases one mom and moves immediately on to the other. “Of course not, Mamí, don’t be silly.”
“This is Keith?” the one he thinks is Pilar asks, and Keith finds himself desperately trying to stutter out words.
“Yes, mamá,” Lance says, smiling and looking back at Keith likes he’s the prize pony Lance’s brought home with him.
Pilar is a little taller than her wife, her hair darker and sleeker, falling in a low ponytail. She smiles big. “Hello, you can call me Pilar,” she says, extending a hand. Keith shakes it nervously.
“She’d kiss you but Lance told us not to freak you out,” the shorter woman besides her chides.
“Ay, Carmen, don’t be rude,” Pilar chastises.
“Sí, sí, mi amor.” The woman laughs. “Pardón, I’m Carmen, Lance’s other mamita.” She pulls Keith into a brief yet bone-crushing hug, smiling all the while. Keith is finding in these recent months that he may have to adjust to cuddly people; he certainly sees where Lance gets it from now. Carmen is all tanned skin and smile lines around her eyes; her short, thickly curled, graying brown hair sweeping up around her face. “Lance, mijo, he’s so skinny! You’ve been feeding him up there, yeah?”
“Carmen,” Pilar all but growls. “Leave the boy alone.”
Carmen flushes as Lance puts a reassuring arm around Keith’s waist. “No, no, I didn’t mean–” she stutters. “You’re quite a handsome young man, Keith, we’re very lucky Lance found such a nice boy like you.”
“Well, he was always shit with the girls,” a voice from deeper inside says.
“Alma!” Carmen snaps, face suddenly morphing into something fierce as she looks back into the house.
“Mamí,” Lance laughs. “It’s fine, really. Let’s go inside so he can meet the girls.”
Carmen seems to calm at that, smiles, and nods; as they enter Pilar says she’s going to get things from the kitchen, and gives a little friendly wave. The dining room is large and open, so Keith can see Pilar getting bowls out in the kitchen, most likely for serving; the table’s already set. Three young women stand waiting for them, all smiling.
“I’m Julia,” one says, stepping forward to shake Keith’s hand. Her hair is darker than Lance’s, sleek like Pilar’s. She wears a blouse and denim skirt and is full of warmth, pressing a palm into his arm, resisting her no-doubt deeply ingrained urge to hug him.
“I’m Keith,” he says, actually managing to speak out loud.
“Lance said you were a handsome one,” she says, still smiling, and everything about her seems so painfully honest and whole. “I like the hair.”
“Thank you,” Keith stutters out, and Lance’s arm is around his waist again.
“I never lie,” Lance says, grinning.
“Mierda,” one of the other sisters says, her lips quirking. She has chocolate brown eyes and tightly curled hair much like Carmen’s. The little glint in her eye tells Keith this is probably Alma.
“Alma, be nice to your brother for once,” Carmen says. She exits the room to help Pilar in the kitchen, after much apologizing and lamenting that she has to step away from them for more than a few seconds.
“I am being nice,” Alma defends, even with her mother gone. “I’m being nice, right, Luz?”
Luz, the youngest, frowns up at her sister. Besides her sleek hair cut in a glossy bob around her chin and her shorter stature, she’s almost the spitting image of Lance. She looks back up at the two of them, unconsciously mirroring Alma’s folded arms. “Lance said you were cute. Keith, right?”
Keith nods, feeling his stomach twist a bit.
“When’s the wedding?” she asks, and Lance sputters.
“That’s my question to ask!” Alma says, laughing wildly. “Pero sí, es muy guapo, hermanito.”
“¡Yo sé!” Lance says, yelling slightly. He glances at Keith, apologizes. “I know, alright? Now be nice to him,if you’re mean to me; he’s not your brother, no matter how soon a wedding might be. Which isn’t happening, by the way.”
“No fighting tonight, you two,” Julia says. “Abuela’s coming, you want to give her more gray hair? Stress her to death?”
“That old woman is too stubborn to die anyway,” Alma interjects, and Julia grabs her by the ear.
“Respect, ¡hermanita!” she says as Alma lets out a yell. “Ay, you’re no good,” Julia chastises, releasing her.
“¡Cena!” Carmen calls, and all four siblings’ heads whip around at the yell, like a bell has been rung.
“Time for dinner,” Lance says, and leads Keith to his seat.
Keith honestly did not know you could make chicken so not-chicken-like. Or, is it, so-chicken-like? Maybe this is how chicken is meant to be, and the only kind he’s ever had has been bland and dry, so this seems like a completely different meat in comparison.
Their grandmother is an old woman who looks like she shouldn’t be sturdy at all but most certainly is, frail but moves like she has solid stones for feet, no matter how hunched over she is. Everybody talks while they eat, chattering away; they don’t put all the focus on Keith, which is nice, but they don’t leave him to the side either.
Carmen asks him what he likes to do, Julia wants to know what it’s like to pilot a ship, and Pilar is the one to ask the fateful question; how did he and Lance get together?
When he tells the story they all glue their eyes to him, even though he stutters and stumbles over his words, wishing he could just stuff more rice into his mouth. Even Alma and Luz have their eyes fixed on his face; Luz wears a slightly dreamy smile, but then again, she’s only fourteen; Alma looks like she might be collecting information to grill Lance on later.
When he finishes, Carmen says, laughing, “That boy, he’s always so stubborn.”
“Mamí,” Lance complains, but Pilar is interjecting.
“He gets it from you, though,” she says, grinning at Carmen.
“Ay, ¡amor!” Carmen cries, pouting. “You’re so mean to me.”
Keith can see where they’re holding hands underneath the table.
“So, Lance,” Alma starts, her own devious grin growing on her lips. “Is he your–” She gesticulates wildly, finishing by fluttering her eyelashes and putting the back of her hand to her forehead, like she’s feeling faint. “¿Alma gemela?”
Lance flushes dangerously red in an instant, clearing his throat. “Alma, díos mío…”
“What does that mean?” Keith asks quietly, confused. He only knows the Alma probably made a pun out of her name.
“Nothing,” Lance says, not looking at him. “She’s just being silly.”
The conversation quickly moves on, turning to gossip, and Alma is saying, “Abuelita, did mamí tell you about what happened with Tía Flor?”
“No, no me decía,” the old woman croaks out.
“Well,” Alma starts, “you know how she’s been seeing that younger guy, yeah? Well, she thought he might be dating someone since he’s been pulling away and not calling and stuff, so she called up his ex-girlfriend to see if it was her, and the woman called her a puta loca–”
“Ay,” the grandmother says, as if on cue.
“– And so Tía Flor decides to give up on it, but then last week, Ronaldo–”
Lance whispers to Keith that Ronaldo is their cousin, Flor’s son.
“– Ronaldo saw the younger guy, Luis, with somebody else! And you’ll never guess who, Abuelita–”
“¿Quién?” the woman asks, now looking somewhat invested.
“Ronaldo saw Luis kissing Tía Flor’s driver, Angel!”
“Ay díos mío,” the grandmother, Yolanda, says, her head drooping. “We can’t get away from them.”
“She means gay people,” Julia laughs.
“No es malo,” Doña Yolanda clarifies. “Just so many.”
“Sí, mamá, nobody thinks you’re being rude,” Carmen says, laying a hand over her mother’s. “Alma, on the other hand–”
“¡¿Que hizo?!” Alma cries.
“Don’t gossip about your Tía Flor, you know how upset she is.”
The conversation seems to be put to bed at that, as Pilar serves sliced mango for dessert.
“Lance, your Abuela is staying over tonight, so you and Keith will sleep in your old room, bueno? Or should we not put you two in the same bed?” Carmen says.
Lances splutters gracefully. “¡Mamí!”
“Kidding!” she chides, grinning.
When they retire to the lounge, and Doña Yolanda has gone to bed, the conversation quiets. Luz tries to pull on Keith’s hair to feel how soft it is, then gets yelled at to go put on her pajamas.
“She thinks she’s so grown up,” Carmen sighs.
“She’s the age Lance was when he left for the academy, amor,” Pilar says quietly, and Keith pretends not to see Carmen’s eyes start watering.
The girls say goodnight to their parents as the mothers head off to bed, both moms again fussing over Keith and telling him what a fine young boy he is. Then they retreat to their bedroom, holding hands.
Luz comes back with wet hair that Lance begins to weave into two, short braids as the youngest girl sits beneath him on the floor. Julia is yawning in her chair, and Keith feels himself being pulled aside by Alma into the hallway. Ready for any invasive questions, he feels oddly nervous; considering he’s fought an alien dictator face to face, a teenage girl shouldn’t be so scary.
“Hey, don’t look at me like that,” she teases, reading his body language. “I don’t bite, no matter what my brother said.”
Keith doesn’t know how to respond, so he just keeps his lips shut tight.
Alma sniffs, looking at the ground. “Just don’t hurt his stupid-big heart, okay? I can tell he likes you. Or whatever.”
Oh. Keith hadn’t been expecting the overprotective sibling speech from her, of all people.
“Of course,” he says.
“I mean, it’s probably just cause you’ve got a nice ass,” she amends, looking embarrassed, and ah, there it is.
He follows her back into the living room to see Julia passed out in her armchair, Lance kissing Luz goodnight.
“Night, hermanito,” Alma says, yawning.
Lance nods, smiling slightly. “Night, sis.” Keith’s gaze follows Luz skipping away to her and Alma’s bedroom.
“Diviértete con el culo de tu guapo novio,” Alma calls back to them quickly as she slips inside her room.
“Alma!” Lance yells back angrily. “Ay…”
Once they’re in bed, Keith tucked against Lance’s side (Lance is most definitely a cuddler) Keith blinks when he thinks he hears Lance sniffling slightly.
“Are you crying?” he asks, even though that question can be a mixed bag with Lance.
“Lo siento,” Lance says. “I’m really happy, mi amor. To be home. With you.”
Keith curls in closer to Lance’s side, slots their legs together. “With me?”
“Wouldn’t be the same without you.”
So “alma gemela” means soulmate, but idek if they use that phrase in Cuba. Help me and my AP Spanish ass. Also, at the end Alma says “Have fun with your hot boyfriend’s ass” like same
There’s going to be a couple of throwbacks of characters I used to do this year. It’s probably appropriate to bring them back, even briefly, after my clean-up on DA.
This one’s Wesley, a sprite character I used to use for size-related fan art. I retired him from fan pieces a while back, but his meetings with death never end for him. At the end of his day, he’s revived and gets to go back home… or which ever one. He wants his real home with his taller wood elf wife, but ends up somewhere else everyday.
This is the bollocks I don’t like.
What’s wrong with a tall woman being with someone shorter?
Kevin Hart is in a relationship with a taller woman.
Pharrell’s wife is taller than him and still wears heels.
Nicole Kidman was taller than Tom Cruise.
Katie Holmes was taller than Tom.
Basically everyone Tom has been with was taller than him.
Rod Stewart would look at his wife’s nipples before he looked UP at her face (Penny Lancaster).
Why does no one see that short guy and tall girl also works?
If there’s one thing you should take from celebrities other than whatever they’re famous for, it’s the fact that they don’t give a rats ass if their wives are taller than them.
“Nice to meet you (Y/n), I didn’t know Gabriel had such a beautiful wife” the taller one said with a warm smile that seemed like a smirk.
You giggled at his words “Thank you very much Sam”
“If Gabriel had not told me, I would have thought you are an angel as well. Your beauty certainly far exhids that of a common one” Castiel told you with a bright smile and you blushed, tucking a few strands of stray hair behind your ear.
“Oh Cas, you’ve ever so sweet”
“Wow why’d you been keeping her a secret from us Gabriel. Hey, I’m Dean nice to meet ya sweetheart” the green-eyed one smiled widely, winking at you.
“Hello Dean. Pleasure to meet you” you smiled politely extending your hand to shake his.
“Oh trust me, pleasure is all mine” he smiled cheekily at you.
You heard Gabriel practically growl, he put an arm around your waist protectively “A pleasure that won’t last long if you keep that attitude up Dean-o” he smiled at the green-eyed hunter “Because just like your life it will be cut short with just a snap of fingers”
“I’m not letting that kid top me”
“Why the fuck are you taller than me!?!”
“Kid, Imma show u the best godamn experience in your life *smirks*”
“If this house isn’t clean by the time I get back, I’m beating ya’ ass!”
“WHY ARE THE MYSPACE POSTS ALL ABOUT THE FACT THAT MY WIFE IS TALLER THAN ME!?!”
“Kid, I’m putting bricks on your damn head”
“I have a deep regard for you too, Eren”
“EREN PUT THE 3DMG DOWN THE TITANS ARE DEAD GOTDAMMIT!”
“Is it Hunter? Yager? Jager? Yaeger? Jaeger? Choose one fucker!”
“Why the hell are you always so angry???”
“Heichou, I wanna make you feel young again”
“LEVI PUT THE BLEACH BACK WE ALREADY HAVE 200 BOTTLES AT HOME!”
“So if Mikasa is my sister and you are her cousin, does that make us incest?….oh wait, she’s adopted to me…..never mind.”
“You know, the way you bend down when cleaning….heh…kinda turns me on..heh.”
“Is it Reveal? Or Ravioli?”
“WHY IS TWITTER CONSTANTLY MAKING JOKES ON HOW MY WIFE IS NAMED AFTER A PANTS BRAND!?!”
“Why are you such an asshole????”
My wife is 3’ taller than me. I have become a divided man. In privacy, I am a staunch admirer and lover of my taller wife. I enjoy her height, dominence of her physique and her overall superemacy. While in public, I am a scared man, feeling myself overwhelmed and pressurised. Please provide me some genuine solution