not a sidekick!

id. sel. multimuse ft. young justice, teen titans, and voltron: legendary defender. written by albs.

[papertownsy]

Paper Towns B-roll

[tricodekuarts]

This reminded  me of them lmaoo

[countedpaths]

arespilot‌.

    if nothing else at least griffin has some fuel to tease rizavi about later ( you should’ve seen your face when matt holt hugged you – classic ), watching matt give them all a mock salute and slip back into the mess of the party. griffin clears his throat, scooting forward a little bit so he can’t feel the burn of kinkade’s palm through the back of his shirt. perhaps no one will notice his own flaming cheeks. 

    “cheers, then.” it’s kinkade reaching over griffin’s shoulder, tapping his cup to rizavi’s that spurs griffin back onto the defense, eyes wide as he looks to both of them.

   “but you guys, if we get caught they’ll boot us. or worse.” 

    leifsdottir finishes her cup with a final tilt back of her head, done with no flourish or pomp, like this is something she’s done before, she’s used to. her lips are wet when she speaks. “thursday nights are the designated officers’ gambling night – personnel not participating take advantage of the vacant captains and commanders lounges. we will not be caught. drink.”

"there you go!” rizavi taps her cup to griffin and tilts her head back right as kinkade does. it’s disgusting, but she’s not about to admit that. she swallows and wipes at her mouth with the back of her hand. her cheeks are still pink, but at least she’s not sweating as much anymore, matt holt far gone and lost to the crowd. 

with a grin she links her and leifsdottir’s arms, dragging her forward. leifsdottir follows, lips quirking into a smile. 

kinkade pats at griffin’s shoulder, almost sympathetically, except the smile on his face strikes a shade too close to amused. he follows after the two girls, rizavi chattering at leifsdottir’s ear, only taking small sips of his drink. 

[countedpaths]

romelletean‌.

“i  won’t!  not  a  word,  i  swear!”  romelle’s practically bouncing. her grip shifts to hold one of rizavi’s hands instead of two as she starts off down the hallway, tugging her along. “let’s go! we can — oh, wait.” romelle stops in her tracks, brow furrowed, and glances around. “which way is it?” 

rizavi’s hand is definitely sweaty. she wipes the other on the fabric of her trousers -- god, griffin would give her the dirtiest look if he saw doing that -- and crashes into romelle. “oh, uh,” she jabs a thumb over her shoulder. “it’s that way, actually.” a tug of romelle’s hand and rizavi’s leading them down opposite direction. “you’re gonna LOVE it. the MFEs aren’t like the lions, sure, but they’re so cool. better than any other ship on earth.” 

[skypestripper]

[countedpaths]

arespilot‌.

    the room is stifling, crowded and too-hot, air stuffy and thick as they enter. it had taken a while to convince him to go at all ( but what if we get caught? ) and even as griffin shuffles in, shoes sticking to the floor, he isn’t sure this is going to be worth it. 

    and that feeling is only compounded when matt holt ( the matt holt ) arrives, seemingly out of nowhere, red solo cup filling his vision. he stumbles back a bit into kinkade, face already flushing as he takes the cup, if only to keep it from spilling. 

    “o-oh, thanks, but i’m not – none of us are – ” 

    griffin’s voice comes out cracked and high, something akin to a squeak, but matt isn’t paying attention. already he’s obtained more cups, offering them to leifsdottir and rizavi, glasses askew on his face when he grins. 

    “ah, to be young and breaking curfew for the first time.” matt’s contemplative sigh blows at the bottom of his bangs as he stares off to some point in the middle distance, dreamy. his arm slips from the top of rizavi’s head down to her shoulder, pulling her in for a one-armed hug. “enjoy your cadet days, nerds. shit only gets harder from here.”

no, it’s not enough that matt holt used rizavi as a personal arm rest. no. he just -- had to hug her, like they’re pals, and this is something she’d write in a diary if she had one. she’s sure she’ll never hear the end of it from griffin later, especially as she squeaks and jumps a little, a bit of beer splashing onto the front of her shirt. 

the room was warm before, but now it’s sweltering. rizavi glances at leifsdottir for help, but she’s already chugging at her drink like it’s water. kinkade’s no better, having settled a hand at the center of griffin’s back as he sniffs at his own drink. 

“uh -- y-yeah! thanks!” her glasses are sliding down her nose. she pushes them up. they’re fogging a little. “we’ll, uh, we’ll have fun!” 

[countedpaths]

@arespilot

the room practically pulses along with the volume of the music. leifsdottir takes a second: by the corner, a couple a few years older than them all, entangled in a way that would have iverson yell and force them into laps for a week straight if they were caught; a ping pong table decorated in red solo cups, lieutenant shirogane laughing with his head thrown back at one end with lieutenant west at the other, clutching at his hair; a group of older teenagers taking selfies by the sofas. it’s too many people stuffed into a room. it’s the only explanation for why no one seems to recognize the small gaggle of tiny first year cadets huddled by the door.  

rizavi’s standing all too proud, hands on her hips in that self-satisfied way she does when she pushes past regulation speeds in the simulator. leifsdottir says nothing, content to stand next to her, arms crossed. 

“ok, so here’s the plan --” rizavi starts, except she’s interrupted by matt holt, stinking of beer, resting an arm on her head. her face turns an interesting shade of red.  leifsdottir raises an eyebrow. 

and then matt holt’s pushing a cup into griffin’s face. “drink up, little dude. takashi’s still focused on beer pong.” 

[flipphonegoth]

its my god given bisexual right to be dramatic

[countedpaths]

rizavi: hey babe want my gum griffin: yeah sure rizavi: spits it in his mouth kinkade and leifsdottir, simultaneously: we’re leaving you 

[arespilot]

“ i know ” from rizavi

TWO WORD STARTERS

   rizavi’s room is dark save for the standard alarm clock on her beside table, illumiating the mussed sheets and loose hair on her side of the bed. it’s only a full-sized mattress but james likes that he has to press closer to her, bare back against the plaster wall. it was always hard for him to fall asleep, even harder to stay asleep, and being with someone, nadia, or ryan, or ina, always seemed to help.

   at least it had until admiral sanda’s memorial service.

   “you should see a medical specialist.” ina’s voice had been soft in his ear, sharp chin propped on james’ shoulder. staying with her and kinkade always prompted questions, suggestions, pitying gazes they thought he couldn’t see in the dark. griffin wasn’t sure he could take another of ryan’s sympathetic looks, eyes burning into his skin. at the time he had turned his head, pressed a haphazard kiss to her cheek at the corner of her mouth, before pulling them back down to sleep.

    but nadia always seemed to understand, and even if she didn’t, she never asked questions, not when he jolted from sleep, violent and sharp, waking her up as well. or when she would find him stiff and contorted, hand squeezed shut, muscles taut around a phantom controller, flying a burning ship somewhere in his mind, and would uncurl his fingers one by one until she could press a soft, open-mouthed kiss on his palm and the crescent moons left there by his nails.

    it’s more of the same tonight. the digital display reads 3:00 AM when james finally glances at it, spent with tracing the lines of nadia’s back and shoulders under her tank top. he doesn’t expect her to turn over when he heaves a sigh, and feel acutely guilty over it, like his insomnia is rubbing off on her, making it harder to sleep, to dream, as long as he’s there. she looks different without her glasses. younger.

    “i can’t sleep.” he mutters it by way of apology. nadia reaches out, hand heavy as she lays it against his cheek, thumb smoothing over his lips, fingers in his hair.

    “i know.” even when she doesn’t ask questions he wants to tell her more, justify himself. james scoots closer so he can slot one of his legs between hers, warm, safe.

    “i’m sorry.” her thumbs follows the motion of his lips, feels his words before she hears them.

    “i know.” and she says it because she’s learned there’s no use convincing james none of this is his fault. that sometimes he’s more comfortable taking responsibility for tragedies he has no control over. nadia circles an arm around his neck, pulls him to her, his face buried in her neck and hair.

    “i love you.” james sounds so small tucked up against her. nadia’s heart aches, her lips pressed to his temple. part of her wishes they could stay here for good.

    “i know.” a beat. “i love you, too.” // @countedpaths

[joleanart]

i’m already in love. my god

[joner]

me, laying on top of my significant other: hey

[countedpaths]

@arespilot

[alurdunfinn]

Aren’t you gay?

I like how this implies I did something heterosexual. If so, I apologize.

[halflunar]

“Even when I look away I am still looking.”

— Richard Siken, from Portrait of Fryderyk in Shifting Light

[ollypuro]

the best pilots of their generation

[countedpaths]

redbonded‌.

       “the place was low on cosmic wolves,”  he dismisses with a snort, but his gaze lingers fondly at rizavi for a second longer, watching kosmo nuzzle closer to her.  “plus, i didn’t know what earth’s policy was on declaring intergalactic mementos.”

       he sighs comfortably and anchors his head into his pillow.  he’s missed her more than he thought, the pilot with a penchant for adventure.  “but, if we’re talking presents — when's my welcome home party?”

“well now you’re just ruining the surprise.” kosmo’s all but on her lap at this point despite nearly dwarfing her. she falls back across the foot of the bed, letting him lay on her chest as she scratches at his ears, beneath his chin. “i tried convincing griffin it’d be a good morale booster, but, well, you know him.”

she turns her head to look at him. she grins. “so, obviously, i’m throwing it anyways. you and the others deserve it. second you’re on your feet, it’s over for you, kogane. i’m getting you white girl wasted.” 

[countedpaths]

arespilot.

    even before rizavi’s lips meet his, james thinks he could die right now and still die happy.

    he thinks he doesn’t believe in fate, doesn’t believe in some overarching force controlling the world, controlling them, but if there was something out there that led them to each other, something that brought him together with these three, he’s not sure he wants to argue with it. 

    every point of contact on his body feels like it’s on fire – nadia settled low across his hips, ina’s fingers circled around his splayed leg, ryan’s hand on his, guiding it to rizavi’s waist like james has forgotten how to do this, needs to be helped. kissing nadia feels like a team effort, like everything in their lives up to this point was leading here, now.

    there’s no point trying to hide the way his breath hitches as she tips his head back, or the way it catches, staccato in his throat, his mouth, as nadia starts up the underside of his jaw. griffin is content with letting her lead, prefers it, he thinks, because it frees him up to wrap his arms completely around her, pulling her flush against his chest as she finally gives in, fits her mouth into his.

    it’s strange, how kissing all of them feels so different. rougher with ryan, because they know there’s no point to pretending to being soft. slower with ina, because she has always been methodical, even when taking him apart. faster with nadia, because they’ve been racing each other for years, but now he doesn’t even care who wins.

    he’s cold when they pull apart, anchoring nadia on his lap, arms unrelenting, even as they break the kiss. james isn’t ready for this to be over, any of this. if he could, he’d spent his whole life in tonight, right here with the people he knows he’d do anything for.

    it takes ina clearing her throat for him to laugh, high and bright, unwinding his arms from around nadia. the air is still charged, still full of an electricity he wants the world to run on, but it doesn’t feel as daunting, as unconquered. he clears his throat before speaking, burning once more as three sets of eyes meet his.

    “i don’t know about you guys, but i think it was pretty evenly tied.” 

it’s only after ina clearing her throat and james letting go that nadia can muster the energy to let go. she could stay like this, she thinks, on james’ lap, or ryan’s thigh under her hand, or ina on her, hips in nadia’s grip. her lips tingle; her limbs buzz with a restless sort of energy, eager and ready and wanting for the warmth of them in her arms again. 

she’s clumsy as she gets off. she plops down pressed against ina and rests her head on her shoulder, wrapping an arm around her waist. the fuzzy sweater ina wears hangs three sizes too large. it hangs off a shoulder, revealing a prominent collarbone and freckled skin. nadia turns her head and plants a kiss on a fading brown freckle. 

“i guess,” rizavi says. 

kinkade chuckles. he moves, body slow, until he’s laying with his cheek pressed against james’ thigh. his drink is somewhere long forgotten. he reaches a hand out and ina intertwines their fingers. 

it’s a wonder, really, that it hadn’t happened before. that it took ina leaning over with that calculated precision she applies to everything and kissing ryan sweet as anything for james and nadia to catch on. some things are easier: recognizing a team effort; registering that these people hold your life in their hands; that they stand before, besides, and behind you, at ready for whatever may come. this: the electric rush of lips on lips, stacking action over action -- it comes after, like falling into step together.

the garrison hadn’t been his first choice, but ryan can’t fathom any other life. thinks that they were meant to be here, knees knocking, rizavi leaping into action perpendicular to every analytic pause on ina’s end. thinks that in here, without the two stripes curving his shoulders, james can lean back and let others take control. 

ina hums in agreement. “it’s a tie.”