#thesizeofthefight

[whitepalxdin]

@thesizeofthefight || happy Valentine's day!!

He had been carrying around the stupid little piece of cardstock in his jacket pocket all day. At this point it felt like it was going to burn a hole through the fabric with how is nerves were keeping his attention on it. It was silly, juvenile really. He literally picked up goofy cards just for fun, to get a laugh out of his friends.

So far it had worked. A little piece of printes card with some awful mushy saying on it and some candy had gone over pretty well. But then again the rest of the paladins were not only easy to amuse with the gesture, they also had been easier to find.

Keith was the last one on hia list, though not by choice. Shiro had given out his little treats as he had come across them. But Keith? He was good at hiding unless he wanted to be found, so it was some small miracle that Shiro managed to spot him later in the afternoon.

It was probably closer to evening time at thia point, and he didn't want to miss anyone on his mission to try and enjoy this fun little holiday. So even though he had to excuse himself from a conversation, he made sure to trail after him until he could catch him. Literally. He snagged Keith by the elbow to pull him to a stop. All things considered, as silly as a little valentine was he didn't want to embarrass him by yelling his name and drawing everyone else's attention too.

"Hey wait up."

[shirodwarf-blog]

@thesizeofthefight

Somehow, Shiro knew he would find Keith here.

Keith was a lot like him. There were times where his own frustrations made him endlessly restless. And he would find himself here too. Trying to beat the feeling back by throwing his weight and his energy into a punching bag.

There was something about the mindlessness of motion. Of losing your mind in a fight. It never helped, not really. Shiro knew this. He always came here as if exhausting the body would eventually lead to exhausting the mind. In the end, it only really served to make it worse.

Still, taking the anger out on an inanimate object was much better then picking a fight with their team.

“Any harder and you might break the chain,” Shiro murmured, finally making his presence known. An inkling of warmth and playfulness in his tone.

Shiro approached, but was careful not to get in the way of Keith’s swings. Crossing his arms loosely and gazing at the other with gentle concern. And they pointedly headed for Keith’s hands. Checking them. The memory of treating swollen and bloody knuckles from last time not a pleasant one. “I’m glad you remembered to wrap your fists.”

A moment of quiet, before those brows lifted, and he brought his gaze back up. Those hands still looked a little red. As if Keith had been going at this for a long time. And it worried Shiro.

“Keith,” he prompted, tone much softer now. Asking Keith to stop and look back at him. But he never pushed. Pushing never got anywhere with someone as volatile and private as Keith. Instead, he silently waited for the other to come to him.

[azurenaut]

Ellen: HI I’m back from my hiatus how is ev- Me: 👌👀👌👀👌👀👌👀👌👀 good shit go౦ԁ sHit👌 thats ✔ some good👌👌shit right👌👌th 👌 ere👌👌👌 right✔there ✔✔if i do ƽaү so my selｆ 💯 i say so 💯 thats what im talking about right there right there (chorus: ʳᶦᵍʰᵗ ᵗʰᵉʳᵉ) mMMMMᎷМ💯 👌👌 👌НO0ОଠＯOOＯOОଠଠOoooᵒᵒᵒᵒᵒᵒᵒᵒᵒ👌 👌👌 👌 💯 👌 👀👀 👀 👌👌Good shit

[astralrevenant-blog]

"Are you hurt?"

The speech had ended, and Veronica had pulled him aside almost immediately after his mouth had closed. 

“He’s awake.” 

Shiro doesn’t pause. He doesn’t thank her either, which he should be ashamed of, but now there’s a single-mindedness to his moments as he all but sprints to where Keith is bedridden. He’s taken this route over a dozen times, and the end had always been the same: Keith, bruised and battered but breathing, laying pale on a Garrison bed. 

Now, he’s awake. And Shiro hadn’t been there. 

When he bursts through the door, prosthetic treating it like a barricade instead of breakable wood, he sees Keith has company. Kolivan looks placidly unimpressed, but Krolia smiles at him. “We’ll leave you two,” she says, and Shiro doesn’t look for a reaction from either of them because now that he;s got eyes on Keith, he can’t look away. 

He’s still wrapped in bandages, and he’s holding himself delicately but trying to hide it, and - 

He’s awake, alive. 

“Keith,” he says, gut-punched, and goes to sit on the bed. The thought of jarring his injuries makes him shy away quickly, and he collapses in the cushioned shair at his head instead, where he’d been sitting every chance he’d gotten for the past two days. 

Two days. 

When Keith speaks, Shiro blinks. His voice sounds tired but strong, and Shiro should have expected that, should have known even from the brink, Keith would still come back to him by tooth and claw, ready to face whatever’s next. 

For one wild moment, Shiro wants to get angry. He wants Keith to stop putting him above himself, but the hypocrisy douses the flame before it has any chance to grow. 

“I’m not the one laid out in a hospital bed,” he says, and smiles through the image of Keith’s blood caked on the inside of the helmet, of droplets cast over Black’s display. “I’m fine, Keith.”

You saved me.

[takashirobae-blog]

@thesizeofthefight

The guy - Shirogane, Keith knows, as if he could forget the name and face of one his most frequent (and least frequently annoying) patients over the past few weeks - sounds so gentle, so pleased, that it catches Keith off guard. Not that he really has a basis for what he sounds like when he’s not in pain or embarrassed by his most recent kitchen mishap, but in Keith’s experience, people are very different when they’re sitting on an exam bed in front of you than they are when you run into them at the corner store.

Usually, they avoid eye contact, or they ask him out on a date. (The former makes a lot more sense than the latter, considering he usually looks like hell vaguely warmed over when he’s treating people, but all right.) Very few strike up a conversation with him, or seem genuine about it when they do.

He glances over at the park, lit up and decorated tastefully for Christmas. His fingers itch to reach into his pocket for a cigarette, but he ignores the urge. Keith might be abrupt and brusque on a good day, but he has better manners than to light up next to someone unless he knows they’re okay with smoking.

That, and he gets tired of hearing aren’t you a nurse? you know that’s bad for you. from well-meaning types. Shirogane looks like the well-meaning type. (And the completely fucking fit type, which is something he doesn’t really notice when he’s working, but he’s been caught a little wrong-footed at the moment.)

“Yeah,” he says finally, settling for stuffing his hands in his pockets and shuffling a little closer. It looks a little more like they’re having an actual conversation that way. “They really go all out on the park this time of year.”

Sometimes, before or after a shift at the clinic, he’ll go for a walk through the park just to enjoy the lights. He hasn’t done it yet this year, though, because he’s just been too tired.

After a moment, he asks only half-jokingly, “You’re not on your way to the clinic, right?”

It really was beautiful. Shiro was a sucker for holiday decorations, Halloween, Christmas, all of them. Something about the decorations always made him feel... warm. Running into Keith though? That was... either luck or a curse. His opinion of the young man hadn’t changed and it was almost embarrassing to run into him outside of the urgent care.

“I love it.” He said, a smile on his face as he crossed his arms, still looking at the park. It was getting truly cold now and he was enjoying greatly, same with the fact that his... accidents at work were decreasing significantly. It had all put Shiro in a lighter mood, even though it meant he had seen very little of the man now at his side sense the season began. “It’ll be my first Christmas here and I think it’s going to be a good one. I’ll have to get a closer look at the lights, take a stroll through the park or something.”

The question made Shiro sputter and laugh. “No, no just getting some snacks for home. I live a few streets down.” He said, lifting up the plastic bag with the corner store logo on it.

[voidgravity-blog]

&&. ♆ ⋮ ❪ ❛ 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐒𝐈𝐙𝐄𝐎𝐅𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐅𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 ❜ ❫.

                    →  ❛  𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗁𝖺𝗌 𝗇𝗈𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗈 𝖽𝗈 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗒𝗈𝗎. ❜

         it wasn't the first time he's heard those words but that doesn't mean they bother him any less.  he's so used to being brushed aside when it came to things that really matter, and he refuses to be left out this time.

         ❝ this has everything to do with me, keith.  we're a team — if you're going through something it's going to affect all of us. ❞  his arms cross over his firm chest, gaze suddenly turning appraising, as though he could see right through him and figure out just what was going through the other boys head.  he's pushing, but that's what he does best.  he pushes for information, pushes to be the best, pushes peoples buttons ; it's part of his charm in it's own way, and he can't help himself now.  as easy as it is to be annoyed, he cares.  he wants to be helpful to the people around him, especially the other paladin's that he's come to care about so much.

         ❝ i'm not going to just go away . . . so you might as well tell me. ❞

                                                                                          : ( @thesizeofthefight / starters )

[azurenaut]

@thesizeofthefight​, continued from here.

Lance practically leapt to the other side of the couch, blanket fluttering behind him like a cape. Everything was falling into place so easily; the perfect movie, the perfect snacks, only one blanket to share between the two of them. It couldn’t have gone better of Lance had planned the whole thing himself.

... Maybe he was a little too excited for this movie night. Maybe he was setting himself up for disappointment. Maybe Keith would have a horrible time, or they’d end up arguing, but... 

“Ferris Bueller’s Day Off.“ He doesn’t give Keith the opportunity to protest, before hitting play, and settling into a comfortable position on the sofa. Not that there was any need to protest; it was a good, clever, funny movie! Keith was going to love it!

[astralrevenant-blog]

@thesizeofthefight

cont. from here because wowee 

He’s dreaming. 

It’s one of those that makes itself known, but whether the first clue is the lack of a missing arm or keith’s unmarked face, Shiro doesn’t know. 

Old times, the dream implies, but his hair is white and Keith is nearly as tall as him, so his brain gives up trying to muddle over it. They’re in a field, plush purple hills rolling for miles. He sees Lance and Hunk off in the distance, leaping as high as the lowered gravity will let them, their lions sentinels watching their progress. 

Keith is saying something soft, and Shiro turns to him, but the paladin armor is suddenly lacking it’s usually luster and instead is cracked, broken. Blood coats the lights in the collar, and there’s a thin trail of it creeping down Keith’s chin, but his gaze doesn’t waver. 

“Everything okay, Shiro?” 

Shiro blinks, and the sun shines on flawless armor, on unmarred flesh. “Yeah,” he says. “Everything’s fine.” 

Keith brings a hand up, a fist, and swings forward like a viper’s strike, but Shiro jolts and it’s only an open palm on his shoulder. “We should head back,” Keith says, smiling softly, one reserved for quiet moments and low light. He rises, fluid with his gaze never leaving Shiro’s, and offers a hand. 

Shiro is pulled up by a strong, almost desperate grip, and the Black Lion casts a shadow over them both, the purple grass beneath their boots black and crushed. 

“You killed me,” Keith says, and lets Shiro’s hand fall. 

He comes awake to the sound of Keith’s murmur, and he has to focus on the words, on the scar come alive on his cheek. He shouldn’t be relieved to see it, and for a moment, he hates himself. 

But Keith’s hand is at his temple, fingers light in his hair; it’s a grip of affection, not fear, and so Shiro settles. “What’d I tell you about calling me Captain,” he says, words muddied with the vestiges of sleep. Still, he can’t smother the grin that pulls at his lips, at the warm calm that overtakes him, shoving the dream away and burying it.