Weight

Anon: Can you please do one where lance is self-doubting and staying up really late and training? Like he gets really sick from not sleeping. Like can’t keep anything down sick. It’s okay if you don’t want to do or you already did this already. Please and thank you!

Anon: Maybe something where Lance is getting berrated (idk why) and Keith comes to his defense like in intensness or something.

A/N: When I started writing this, I didn’t intend for it to be so dark. Hot damn. Deep shit ahead. Also, I’m horrible at pet-names. I tried to write from 3rd person Keith instead of omniscient so here we go ᕕ(ツ)ᕗ

It was a particularly depressing mission.

The Blue Paladin had to make a near-impossible choice. Surrender Voltron, or surrender a resource-heavy planet and all its inhabitants. Death wasn’t mentioned in either scenario, but it was very heavily implied. In the end, Lance made the choice to save Voltron on the basis that they would save many many other planets by defeating Zarkon in the long run.

But that didn’t mean a whole planet’s worth of deaths wasn’t weighing on his soul.

Keep reading

One Month

A/N: Shout out to @smolsickficwriter for the assist with the Spanish. I wanted to try out some techniques with moving scenes around to make it more interesting. This is a longer one, but I loved every second of it.

Ultimately, this is another fic for @doublecheckyoself (throws Klance and runs).


“Red? Hey, Girl, it’s just Lance. I know I’m not your paladin, but can we talk?”

The Red Lion loomed, looking out of place with the towering trees surrounding her. Her size against the alien plants mimicked the size of Blue Paladin against her. It was true that Blue was bigger than her, but there was something much more ominous about how the Red Lion wouldn’t stop staring.

Lance very carefully put his hand on the barrier Red put up. It was like touching a glass dome, there was no way he was getting through to her without her consent.

“Red?” Still no response. Her eyes were still locked on him, but she made no movement. He would’ve preferred if she even took a swipe at him.

Lance sighed and knocked on the barrier a few times. Before he could turn around and start to think of another plan, the mechanical whirring of the Red Lion filled his ears. He looked back up at her. From behind her barrier, Red whipped her head and roared. The vibrations shook the barrier and the ground, rustling the alien birds from their homes. Almost every animal in the vicinity perked up and fled. Except for the human in blue paladin armor.

Pidge called out something in his helmet, but Lance shut it off immediately. He was getting somewhere, he couldn’t afford any distractions.

“Hey, easy…easy…” Lance ran his hand up and down the barrier, trying to soothe the giant metal beast, “I’m not gonna hurt you, Girl. You have your barrier up, I can’t hurt you. What’s the matter? We haven’t heard back from Keith in a long while. Is he alright?”

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

Maybe a fic where Lance is coming down with the space flu or something with all of the crappy symptoms (nausea/vomiting, fever, headache,) but he doesn't want to let the team down so he tries to go practice anyways. Cue Lance passing out during training and Keith being a flurry of frustrated and worried and at first Lance is freaking out but eventually Keith just tries to take care of him.

The Blues

A/N: A lot of notes on this one, sorry.

So halfway through writing this, I got a fever. I also don’t feel like I’ve gotten used to writing Lance yet. So take it with a grain of salt.

I always pictured that unless it was a simple cold, Lance would be really bad at handling illnesses. They sap his energy and his charm, and he hates being incapacitated like that. So when he’s hit with all these things, along with the loneliness of being away from Earth, and feeling like a seventh wheel, his emotions just go down. I kind of drifted from the prompt, I’m sorry. But I really like the way it turned out!

Finally, I had to take a sharp turn when THIS POPPED UP so it took longer than normal but I really wanted to incorporate this beautiful thing that has graced the Voltron fandom.


The paladins could live without some earth commodities. They adjusted to the Altean food, they accepted wearing their armor while they washed their one pair of clothes, and they tolerated the strange music that Coran and Allura would play over the entire ship when they missed Altea. But for the humans, there was one thing they couldn’t tolerate.

“We’re going back to the space mall and getting toothpaste.” Shiro decided, leaving no room for argument.

Within an hour, the paladins compiled a list of necessities they would purchase. Toothpaste, shampoo, conditioner, razors, new clothes, different types of food, all the things on Earth they always took for granted. Coran insisted that they had the equivalent of some of those things on the ship, but everyone rallied to get Earth deodorant. Pidge threatened to take the wheel herself if Allura didn’t turn the ship around.

As the castleship grew closer to the space mall, the paladins began to get excited. The shopping list grew from necessities to the things they started to missed as well. But the Red Paladin noticed that something was off. Lance was being oddly quiet. He threw out only basic suggestions, like fingernail clippers and combs. Keith scoffed at his lack of participation.

“What, you don’t want a friend for Kaltenecker?”

Lance shrugged and muttered that getting a cow - even if it was free - was probably a bad idea because they had little means to feed it. Even though the Blue Paladin’s alarmingly realistic comment surprised everyone, they continued to make the list. But Keith was left with suspicion. Something was definitely wrong with Lance.

Keep reading

youtube

Enjoy this arousing video!

@outtacommission mentioned Lance with an infected wound and I was kind of inspired. Not sure if I want to continue this or leave it here but… here’s a thing. I had some free time.

——— [part two here]

Lurching forward, Lance catches himself on the side of his bathroom stall and grimaces, fighting back a wave of nausea. His side stings–rather, his entire midsection, from the healing, jagged cut on the left to the stinging of his skin and the cramps of his stomach. It hurts, and Lance knows he ought to ask someone else to check on it, but he’s determined to fight this one out alone.

After all, he doesn’t want to be shouted at for being the screw up, not again. Not this time when it’s something as minor and foolish as being cut. They already had to repair his undersuit, which he felt bad about when Allura had fixed him with that look of displeasure, and he didn’t want them worrying more. It’s just a cut, of course. That’s nothing, nothing the wonderful and strong Lance can’t handle on his own.

Keep reading

His head was pounding to the beat of his heart. It hurt even without that, only intensifying at each beat. Everything hurt his head, the lights, his boyfriends humming, even thinking was too much for him.

“Will… please be quiet…” he begged in a whisper.

Will stopped humming and looked at Nico. They were both on the couch but at separate ends. Will had been poured over patient files, converting notes to his permanent records. He hadn’t even noticed he was humming. Nico could be moody at times but he didn’t think that was why his boyfriend suddenly snapped at him like that.

He was curled in on himself, he was paler than usual and the dark bags under his eyes were even more pronounced now. “Nico? A-are you feeling alright, babe.”

He groaned then mumbled, “m'fine,” sounding anything but. He spoke through clenched teeth like he was in pain, which of course he was.

“You shouldn’t lie to your doctor.” Will pointed out, earning another groan from his poorly looking boyfriend.

“Gods, I said I’m fine Will!” He said angrily, wincing as it caused his head to hurt more. “Just be quiet.” He snapped.

“Geez! Somebody sure is pissy tonight.” Will sassed back.

Nico looked at him and frowned, his angry expression softening. “Sorry babe… S'just a headache.” He was much quieter right now, clearly it was becoming more and more painful for him.

Will set his papers down and completely faced him now. “Are you going to tell me what’s really going on?”

Nico groaned yet again. “You really are a significant annoyance. I don’t feel well, alright? Happy now Mr. Sunshine?”


He frowned. “Not particularly. How could I be happy when you’re clearly feeling ill? Now what’s going on? What hurts?” He asked in that doctor-like way.

He rolled his eyes and winced. “Uh… My head is trying to murder me, my stomach keeps flipping inside me, I think I might have a fever too.” That was it but he felt so crummy it didn’t seem like it could only be three things giving him so much grief.

Will scooted over and felt his forehead, whistling in response which caused Nico to wince. “Sorry, sweetie. That’s some fever you’ve got..” He stood up.

“Where are you going!?” Nico asked looking panicked.

“Easy, Nico, I am just going to go get the thermometer so I can get a real read on this.” He pointed to Nico in general, who launched himself of the couch saying he wanted to go with but suddenly he crumpled to the ground in front of him.

“Nico!” Will shouted, trying to catch him but Nico was able to control the fall, going to his knees then all fours.

“Ahhh! Quiet! Please…” he held his temples and squeezed his eyes shut. “I just got up too fast…it made me dizzy.”

Will looked at him with worry and slowly helped Nico sit in a more comfortable way than on his hands and knees. “Why don’t I help you to bed and I’ll go get the thermometer?”

He had already lost his fight against not being found out, there was no reason to play it down anymore and now the only thing he wanted was to sleep without seeing his dinner again. He nodded and allowed Will to help him up and help him to bed.



When Will had taken his temperature earlier it had read at 102.9 which had explained why his head had hurt so badly. He fell asleep right away after his temperature was taken.

Nico wasn’t even awake, his body reacted without him being alert enough to stop himself. Will woke to a horrible sound and something hot and wet on his back. He was relatively unphased as this happened several times in his life, being a doctor and all. He slowly got up trying to avoid spreading the mess around. He could hear Nico being sick again before he could turn around, when he did he noticed Nico wasn’t actually awake.

“Oh Neeks…” He tisked lightly. He carefully removed his own shirt that was now soiled with Nico’s stomach contents. As he did this Nico threw up again. The mess was now spread out in front of his mouth and clinging to his cheek.

Nico himself was curled into a tight ball, laying on his side with an expression of misery etched on his face. When Will pulled the comforter off of his frail frame he saw that Nico was shivering violently and he had his arms wrapped protectively around his midsection. He had thrown up at least four times now and he still hadn’t woken up yet.

Will got out of bed and started to lift him up and into his arms. Only when he was being moved did he wake up. He was burning with fever much higher than before, and mostly unaware of what was happening. “Shit, you’re on fucking fire, Nico!”

Will picked him up and carried him to the bathroom, stripping them both down to only their boxers. He had to chuckle as he found Nico to be wearing the ones with hearts made of bones that he got him for Valentines day. His laughter short lived as Nico began dry heaving. He started the water in the tub turning on the shower to a chilly barely warm stream and grabbed Nico again. He sat under the water and laid Nico atop himself, letting his naked body be chilled by the luke-warm stream.

After what felt like an eternity Nico started to stir. “Hhnnnng….” He moaned, then whined, “Isss cooold….!”

Will kissed him, so thrilled he was awake enough to feel it. “Oh thank the gods! Nico! You’re alive!”

“Of course I am! Why wouldn’t I be?”

“It’s just an expression,” he said rolling his eyes. “How do you feel?”

“Wet…and not in the fun way…” He mumbled. “I feel sick…”

“Yeah, well, you’ve soiled our bed. I’ll clean it up when your fever is lower.”

“You know, I am not Percy, the water doesn’t help me feel better.” Nico pointed out, starting to shiver.

Will just rolled his eyes. “It will lower your fever.”

“I-if you s-say s-so.” he said grumpily, curling up and nuzzling deeper into Will’s freckly chest, seeking out any warmth he could find.

“I’ll get you better, I promise.”

“I know.” Nico mumbled into his chest.

anonymous asked:

sick shiro? hell yes. maybe hunk made some space food that actually tastes like something that Shiro really liked at earth so he stuffs his face with it and he realizes too late that this stuffs makes him really nauseous...end off the story Shiro is just really stuffed and nauseous because it really doesn't agree with him and hunk feeling bad tries to comfort and take care of him?

A/N: @bosstoaster for the Shiro hunger headcanons. Plus, I love this pairing, okay?

As the team’s unofficial chef, Hunk is very aware of everyone’s individual eating habits; likes, dislikes, specific allergies, and so forth.

For instance, he knows that Lance won’t touch anything that even remotely resembles a brussels sprout with a twelve-foot pole. He knows Pidge has a quirk about different foods interacting on the same plate; everything has to have its separate, designated space. Keith has to be coaxed, (sometimes forced), into eating even a little breakfast and he blatantly refuses food when he’s anxious before missions.

It took Hunk a little longer with Shiro. The night they had rescued him from the compound he hadn’t realized the extent of the damage; he’d assumed the poor guy was still suffering nasty side effects as a result of being drugged, not to mention starved for over a year.

Hunk had whipped up an impromptu dinner for everyone in Keith’s little shack, taking solace in the comforting sense of control the process of stirring, chopping, and searing had allotted, if only for a fleeting couple of hours.

Long after everyone else had cleaned their plates, Shiro had continued to eat. He’d mechanically shoveled food into his mouth like a ravenous robot, oblivious to his companion’s bafflement. At the time, Hunk hadn’t understood; hadn’t really thought anything of it. He’d seemed hungry, so Hunk had continued to feed him. And Shiro had kept eating. It was the grim concentration that had really freaked Hunk out. Shiro hadn’t enjoyed the food, either. In hindsight, Hunk realized his objective had been to inhale every scrap of nourishment as quickly as possible. He’d quite literally eaten himself sick.

Halfway through his fourth bowl of stew, Shiro had abruptly spun away from the table and vomited it all back up onto the floor, nearly giving Keith a heart attack.

Shiro never talked about his year in captivity. But Hunk was willing to bet his ass that food - if you could call it that - had been scarce and Shiro had been forced to fight for every morsel. He also guessed that prisoners were never fed regularly or sufficiently. Hunk had no idea if humans were even meant to ingest whatever the Galra considered food. It couldn’t have been especially pleasant. He couldn’t imagine forcing yourself to eat for the sole purpose of fighting to stay alive, not knowing when or if you’d ever be fed again. It made his chest ache when he thought about Shiro trapped in such a monstrous hell.

Shiro’s brain had undoubtedly been conditioned to consume every bite of whatever he was given, solely fueled by the most basic human instinct: survival.

Since they’d all been tossed together, Hunk’s taken it upon himself to meticulously monitor Shiro’s meals. The man has absolutely no concept of hunger or the parameters those triggers entail. Essentially, it boils down to making Shiro eat and then ensuring Shiro stops if he’s distracted. Hunk isn’t positive Shiro is ever going to be able to enjoy food like a normal person ever again. That realization makes him incredibly sad.

One of Hunk’s favorite pastimes is cooking for the team, (when Coran hasn’t beaten him to it). He’s grown exceptionally skilled at experimenting with the various foreign ingredients and creating dishes that taste nearly identical to some of his favorite foods back on Earth.

Still, he’s never seen Shiro actually enjoy a meal. Sure, their leader enjoys the company, the camaraderie and routine of sitting down to do something so mundane and familiar in the midst of their crazy lives. But from what Hunk can deduce, Shiro eats because he knows his body requires the nutrients and energy in order to function properly, not because he relishes the flavors or textures of whatever’s placed in front of him.

So the night he makes something vaguely similar to chicken spaghetti, (it’d been a rough mission; Hunk needed comfort food), and presents it to the group, he isn’t surprised when everyone digs in. What does surprise him is Shiro’s reaction after his first bite.

Oh,” Shiro pulls back for a moment, chewing slowly and giving a curious tilt of his head. He swallows, a strange smile playing at the corners of his lips. “This is…”

“Oh,” Hunk echoes, disappointment weighing heavily as his shoulders droop. “You don’t like it.”

Shiro shakes his head, “No, I…this is really good. It tastes like…I don’t know. Something my mom used to make, I think.”

Shiro’s never bothered mentioning his family. The comment sends Hunk sputtering while the other paladins gape at Shiro, noisy sounds of chewing abruptly halting as forks poise listlessly in the air.

“I, uh,” Hunk stammers, still taken aback by Shiro’s compliment. “I was going for chicken spaghetti?”

“Yeah,” Shiro hums after a thoughtful moment before digging into his meal with renewed enthusiasm. “That’s it. That’s what she used to make.”

Shiro moans around another mouthful, closing his eyes as he swallows. “Hunk, this is incredible. I don’t know how you do it.”

Hunk beams with the praise, smiling from ear-to-ear as he watches Shiro reach for the serving bowl to ladle out another helping. He’s eating with gusto, relishing every bite.

“Well, it’s not exactly spaghetti, but I guess it had the general shape,” Hunk chuckles, swirling a bite around his own fork. “So I figured I’d give it a try.”

“It’s awesome, Hunk,” Lance agrees, cheeks ballooning as he struggles to speak through an obscene amount of…space spaghetti?

Shiro nods, barely pausing to breathe as he practically inhales his second plate.

Pidge and Keith contribute their own compliments, quickly finishing their portions and heading to the showers to wash off the day’s grime. Lance lets out an unapologetic, thoroughly satisfied belch before announcing he’s wiped.

“You want some help?” Lance offers lazily, slurring around a sleepy yawn.

Hunk rolls his eyes, “No, no. I’ve got it. You’d only screw up my system, anyway. Yes, there is a system, Lance.” He begins gathering up the empty plates, feeling the grueling exhaustion beginning to take its toll. That’s when he notices that Shiro hasn’t moved. Come to think of it, he hasn’t moved for a good five minutes.

The older boy is hunched over the table, head bowed, arms braced against the surface and hands clenched into tight fists. His eyes are squeezed shut, upper body swaying gently as his throat works with convulsive swallows.

“Shiro?” Hunk frowns, crossing over to place a hand on the man’s shoulder. “Are you all right?”

Shiro jerks upright, blinking at Hunk with hazy, unfocused eyes as his throat bobs with another thick swallow. He’s alarmingly pale, skin clammy with sweat and hair matted to his forehead.

“Yeah,” he pants, tongue slowly licking over his upper lip. “‘M fine. Jus’…just tired.” His slurred words end with an audible shudder that visibly ripples down his spine. His hand strays to hover over his abdomen, lips parting to pant softly as he struggles to stand.

“You sure?” Hunk glares skeptically, keeping his hand on Shiro’s shoulder as he rises. “‘Cause you look kind of -“

Hunk is abruptly cut off by an odd gurgling sound. Shiro’s eyes widen as he frantically presses a fist to his mouth. A wet burp rumbles in his throat, causing his chest to jolt.

Hunk takes an involuntary step back as Shiro cringes, suppressing another deep belch. “Um, Shiro?”

“E-excuse me, I -” Shiro blushes furiously, hand rubbing over his stomach as he takes a few steps away from Hunk. “My stomach feels…sorry. I don’t know what’s -“ he cuts himself off with another gurgly burp, cupping a hand firmly over his mouth before stumbling away from the mess-hall, breaking into an awkward jog. “I’ve..gotta go.”

Baffled, Hunk really has no choice but to follow. Something is seriously wrong and he has the sinking suspicion that it’s his fault.

He catches up easily. Shiro’s hunched over in the hallway, one arm gripping abusively around his stomach and the other bracing his weight against the wall. He’s panting, broad frame jerking with sharp hiccups that he’s obviously desperate to stifle.

Hunk can’t help resting a hand on his friend’s shoulder. Shiro flinches, but doesn’t push him off, just curls in harder on himself.

“You’re sick,” Hunk says matter-of-factly, leaving little room for argument. “You should have said something.”

“I’m not -“ a muffled retch interrupts his protest. Shiro presses his fist against his mouth so hard Hunk’s afraid he’s going to crack his jawbone. “I’m just…so full. I can’t remember ever feeling so…oh, my stomach -“ Shiro’s voice catches on another hiccup and Hunk braces his palm against the other man’s chest, attempting to steady him.

“I know,” he says, voice gentle. “Don’t worry. You’re okay. It was just a little too much, I guess.”

Shiro grunts, trying to detangle himself from Hunk’s grip as another violent gag erupts from his throat. He staggers into the shared bathroom, knees bruising against the floor as he drapes himself over the toilet. He clenches the edges of the bowl, legs writhing as he struggles to regain control of his rebelling body.

“What the hell is - ulp - wrong with me?” Shiro demands, shoulders shuddering brutally as saliva drips over his bottom lip.

Despite his own mounting nausea, Hunk squats down behind the older boy, placing a warm hand against the center of his back. He begins rubbing slow, methodic circles, hoping to help in one way or another. He has no idea what he’s doing, but Shiro isn’t pulling away, so it must be all right.

“Your body isn’t used to so much,” Hunk reasons, wincing sympathetically as Shiro convulses wretchedly at the mention of food. It’s true; he hasn’t seen Shiro eat that much since their first encounter and he feels awful for allowing it to go so far. “I think you may have overdone it a little. I’m sorry. I should have -“

“Don’t be,” Shiro gags, spitting uselessly into the bowl. “Wasn’t your - urp - fault.”

Of course it wasn’t. Nothing is ever anyone’s fault but Shiro’s. Goddammit.

Hunk takes a deep breath through his nose, wrapping his arms in a sturdy embrace around Shiro’s waist as he muffles the shaky words, “Yes it was. Don’t be such a fucking hero.”

It’s angry and stupid and selfish but it gets Shiro’s attention.

Shiro glances up from the bowl, eyes momentarily softening as he regards his friend.

“Hunk,” Shiro barely manages to choke out the name before he’s curling forward with a full-bodied heave, burping up a stream of brown bile. Hunk winces, automatically increasing the pressure of his hand against Shiro’s back. His other unconsciously presses against Shiro’s contracting stomach.

“Don’t worry,” Hunk reassures, tightening his grip as he feels the other boy’s determination waver, muscles bunching and coiling in desperate anticipation. “I’ve got you.”

Hunk feels like his insides are disintegrating when Shiro’s self-control finally gives out, sending him lurching over the bowl with a belching gag that results in a flood of pre-digested liquid spewing from his mouth. Shiro coughs and wheezes, desperate for a breath of air as crippling waves of nausea threaten to suffocate him.

“Take it easy,” Hunk coaches. His nose brushes weakly against Shiro’s right shoulder blade as the older boy hiccups pitifully, grasping onto the supporting arm that Hunk’s encircled around his waist. “Breathe.”

Shiro tries to follow the order and ends up retching, another harsh belch ushering up a watery flood of sick. He slumps over the toilet, panting raggedly as the fit eventually wears off.

Hunk is kind of freaking out. It’s almost as bad as the first time it happened. Except this time, he knows it’s his fault.

Shiro coughs, tainted drool dribbling languidly over his bottom lip as he struggles to regain some semblance of control over his own body. Then his hand strays to Hunk’s, long fingers brushing against his skin.

“Hunk,” he slurs, voice breathless. “Wasn’t you. Stop…stop thinkin’ so hard.”

“W-what?” Hunk stammers, voice catching.

“I can hear you,” Shiro chuckles, a little deliriously as he slumps against Hunk’s chest. “So loud.”

“Well, stop it,” Hunk demands, readjusting Shiro’s weight against him. “It’s weird, okay? Reading people’s thoughts isn’t normal.”

Shiro simply nods, offering a woozy smile as he goes limp against Hunk’s chest, exhaustion sluicing through his body. He slides down onto Hunk’s thigh, nuzzling contentedly as his labored breathing evens out.

“Ah, geez,” Hunk groans. In spite of his initial irritation at being reduced to a human pillow, Hunk continues to drag his fingers over Shiro’s back, humming soothing sounds whenever he stirs.

“You’re all right,” he whispers when Shiro whimpers softly in his sleep. “You’re gonna be all right.”

Held Steady-Voltron

So I started filling out these requests in one story several months ago–then my life kicked into high gear and I was too stressed to write. Finally though I finished this. It’s around 3000 words..

Oh man…How about something with Lance? Either he’s sick and complains about it, so nobody believes him until it gets much worse, or he tries to hide it because he doesn’t want to look like the weak link.

A is sick and not exactly in denial but rather just down playing it a lot. They keep hanging out with their friends as they go on with the day but are obviously feverish and half asleep. In the end B carries them to bed despite sleepy protests.

           It had been a rough morning for Lance. The blue paladin had awoken to Allura sounding the alarm for one of her emergency drills, just early enough that it wasn’t worth it to go back to sleep before the day began. He dragged himself out of bed in a stumbling haze, not really awake but just conscious enough to realize that something in him wasn’t right. Even so he had put on his suit and joined everyone else less than a minute later than the rest of the team had assembled. Thankfully Allura’s scolding had been brief—Lance had done his level best to remain upright while the princess spoke with them but the longer that he was conscious the more Lance came to realize that he felt terrible. His limbs ached and felt heavy, and lightheadedness made walking a chore. His stomach was uncomfortable but in a vague sort of way that might have been queasiness, but it also might have been hunger—Lance was still too asleep to tell. Still the brunt of Allura’s ire was focused on him and the blue paladin decided that rather than complain about his condition it would be easier and less likely to annoy his teammates if he kept his discomfort to himself.

Keep reading

TSK: I’m not even joking, I checked and this is exactly what happened.

Cranquis: So your daughter has been vomiting?

Mom of toddler: YES, SHE VOMITED AT BREAKFAST!

Cranquis: Has she been able to eat or drink anything since then?

Mom: WELL SHE VOMITED BECAUSE SHE TRIED TO EAT HER BROTHER’S ENTIRE HARD BOILED EGG WITHOUT SWALLOWING BUT AFTER IT CAME BACK UP SHE CHEWED IT IN PIECES AND THAT STAYED DOWN JUST FINE.

Cranquis: 

So I wrote a part two to this story, I hope it’s okay. I’m tired, so this is barely beta’d.

Thank you to all of the nice comments I’ve been seeing!! You’re all very nice!

Lance fights the idea of the healing pod. They don’t know much about how the pods affect humans over prolonged uses, so the idea of using them too often is discouraged. Not for colds and small illnesses–no, they’ve got tweaked and changed medications for those with them in the medical bay–but for broken bones or heavy wounds. An infected wound, Shiro’s already clarified with Coran, can be treated in the pods, and it definitely fits the criteria, but Lance turns it down.

“It may be better to wait until he can hold something down,” Coran suggests softly.

Keep reading