#curse of forever nausea and headache ACTIVATE

[ruthytwoshakes]

my girl . so full of illness. h

[okkotsuus]

"TUNNEL VISION" ー kenyu yukimiya 🪽

features: kenyu yukimiya

contents: angst. possible spoilers for nel. mentions of disabilities. mentions of self-destructive behavior. portrayals of christianity. struggles with faith. there's some comfort because i'm merciful. fem!reader because i don't feel like editing this </3. 1k words.

notes: for my lovely alice ( @cheralith ), inspired by till forever falls apart by ashe and FINNEAS

yukimiya kenyu has always been the kind of man that never stops, not until he gets what he wants. he has been like this since he was young, when all he had wanted was the new anpanman figure.

eventually, he had set his sights on bigger and brighter dreams: being top of his class, learning his favorite song on piano, winning a world cup.

what he never knew was that one day, all those big and beautiful goals of his that he had dedicated everything for: those visions and dreams he spent every fibre of his being pursuing, were things he would never be able to actually see.

because he was going blind.

slowly.

day by day.

all those little things he took for granted growing up suddenly fall crashing down upon him. if only, all those foolish things he had prayed for had been for this. if only god could hear him now, crying like when he was brought into this world. if only he had never been allowed to dream: to have gotten a taste for satisfaction.

his doctor tells him that it is unlikely he will ever be able to go pro. because with every minute he spends on the field, his eyes are irreparably damaged.

optic neuropathy is a condition characterized by damage to the optic nerve. in his case, it is due to restricted blood flow: something that is only exacerbated by strenuous physical activities.

activities like soccer.

when his body is fatigued, the blood flow to his optic nerve is unable to properly pass through to supply oxygen to his eyes. this leads to black spots in his vision during these times. often, the vision is most affected in the peripherals: one of the most critical spots of vision for anyone playing a sport like soccer.

it is a degenerative condition, accompanied by symptoms like nausea and headaches (which is caused by the combination of the restricted blood flow and his brain trying to cope with his obscured vision).

should yukimiya have given up on his dream then, he likely would never have run the risk of going fully blind: at least not until he was much older than he is now.

but kenyu has never known when to stop, even if it was for his own good.

he had always been the type to work himself to exhaustion, even when exhaustion just meant falling asleep at his desk. but, now, exhaustion meant eventual and permanent blindness. sooner than later.

for him, losing everything just to taste his dream was better than never having known.

that's what he had thought for a long time.

he was simply fighting a clock, to win a world cup before his vision goes fully black. it's all he has wanted for a long while now.

it's something he finds rattled the second he meets you.

everything around him freezes for just a moment, the world seems a hell of a lot brighter than it had been for the last year. he thinks, for just a moment, the angel he prayed for has descended down from heaven to bless him.

and with the sound of his heart pounding in his ears, his sight clouding around the edges: as if forcing his focus to you. for just a moment, he finds himself cursing what he can't see, the beauty that is being hidden from him. he finds himself wishing he had chosen to preserve his sight, selfishly.

"yukimiya, correct? my name is y/n, and i'll be your manager while you're here with training with us." wow, you even sound like an angel.

then it all rushes back to him: he's in the second phase of the blue lock project, meeting the team he has chosen to better himself with. he is here to pursue his dream, he doesn't have the time to sit here and blush over some girl.

but you're not just some girl; no, you're so, so much more. so, he finds himself discarding the training regiment he had been doing to approach.

your hand extends with a bottle, the bastard munchen insignia on the side: almost mocking him. he finds himself taking it with a small thanks, regulating his breathing and sippling a gulp as those voids in his vision begin to clear up.

kenyu knows it isn't true, but he has the fleeting thought that it clears because of you. "yes, thank you, miss y/n," he speaks, voice honey sweet as it had always been.

you smile and he swears that the clouds parted to let the sun grace him. "it is my pleasure, and just y/n is fine: we are the same age, after all."

that hits him as he finds himself thinking so annoyingly like the teenage boy he is. but he doesn't stop himself from indulging the thought of you, just this once

yukimiya allows the fantasy of taking you out, pinkies locked while you drag him to whatever sweet street vendor you set your pretty eyes on. he enables himself to imagine the thought of putting a ring on your finger, to watch miniature versions of himself running around your legs.

as he finds himself pondering whether your children would have his eyes or yours, he freezes.

this is something he will never be able to see without imagining it. yukimiya kenyu will never be able to actually see you in a wedding dress. and that rattles him somewhere deep in his core.

for a long time, all his sights had ever been focused on was the soccer ball he can dribble from one end of the field to the other: all on his own.

but, now, he finds himself wanting to be able to see you watching him from the sidelines.

and he never will.

because kenyu cannot see in his peripheral, no matter how bright you shine.

he finds himself cursing god for the fist time in his life.

⚜️ ㅤ okkotsuus ㅤ 25

[spiderparkerpeterman]

headache

i typed this out after downing a coffee, forgetting i'm very sensitive to caffeine, forgot to save but then my laptop restarted for an update? so now i'm here four hours later bc i gave up on life, not so hopped up on caffeine but with a major headache and also it's 1am. enjoy!

content: stark!reader, fluff n cuddles, peter being a good boyfriend (tm)

warnings: lapslock, i've had to write this twice so i'm angry, post-endgame and yes this follows canon i'm sorry, feels, all the feels, angst and consequences of death, Tension

word count: probably less than my original draft (1528 words)

--

the jet ride back to the newly rebuilt avengers compound was quiet. the mission the reformed avengers had just been on was successful, an infiltration of a loose hydra camp, but there was a big hole in the team that had become apparent as soon as the mission had begun that left everyone in a tense silence.

missions were going to be very, very difficult now.  teamwork-wise and mentally. emotionally. it had been, what, a year or so since your dad had... well, anyway. it seemed like such a long time ago- it was a long time ago- but you had been itching to go back out and do avenger-y things for months. leave it up to the starks to distract themselves from grief and pain by working their asses off. you had been tinkering, toying with your dad's old ideas, doing some minor patrolling stuff for a year, and god was it not enough to keep you distracted.

but then you had actually taken on the mission and then everyone noticed that there were a few missing links that almost cost the team the victory. your dad had been a rock, a point of leadership, an active brain on the team. capsicle had been someone steady, brave, always willing to take on the hard jobs. and nat- nat- she'd take out a room full of men three times her size with ease and still have breath to keep going until every last man was down. sparklefingers was off in space with a rodent, a robot, and a lovesick asshole; that marvel lady had disappeared as soon as she could; the wizard was back at his boys' club; robin hood had officially retired, even leaving his bow behind for the rustic life; and orange slices had said something about "making up for lost time" with his daughter, leaving only you, captain birdman, edgy amnesiac, smart hulk and a handful of ironsuits you'd created over your little break, to regroup and do the mission.

and peter, of course. you could never forget about peter. especially not when he was sitting next to you, your hand in his, jaw clenched, staring at his lap.

the poor kid. you knew your dad was also kind of his dad, the only father figure he'd had since ben. the kid kept losing father figures- probably some kind of curse, you had reasoned with yourself, because this was getting out of hand. you had been by his side when he decided to return to spider-man-ing, a month or two after your dad had... yup. done that thing. he had been by your side when you went into your dad's lab in his lakehouse for the first time since the incident, some four months later. you had his back after the whole mysterio-then-court scenario. he had your back when you had your first major panic attack because you realised that you just couldn't cope. you had each other's backs, you had for three, well, technically eight years now. since just after peter had been taken on by your dad to beat some sense into the others in germany.

coming back from the blip was weird. the entire situation was weird. you had been blipped, dusted, gone, worried and confused about your father being on a giant donut in space with peter, and then you had come back five years later lying on your dusty, unused-for-five-years bed, then the compound was blown to smithereens, you were saved by your suit that you still had on after helping keep the wizard safe, discovered your dad had moved out to the country and had also had another kid- who you loved to bits, of course you did- and also your dad had invented time travel.

and then he was gone, forever.

so yeah. massive hole in the team, everyone was quiet, peter looked like he was going to throw up, you were trying not to cry.

you realised peter was looking at you, and you had been staring at him for a little too long. he squeezed your hand, his eyebrows raised slightly. he looked like a kicked puppy, and oh god, your heart hurt.

"sorry," you mumbled, looking away. sam raised his head but averted his eyes when you accidentally made eye contact. you felt a headache coming on- all this stress about the mission and hole-in-the-team stuff was not good for your physical, emotional or mental health. you rested your head on peter's shoulder, feeling his head rest on yours in return. you closed your eyes, tuning out the sound of the quinjet, just focusing on your breath and peter's soft circles that he was rubbing into your hand.

at some point, you drifted off because you awoke to peter gently nudging your shoulder, the quinjet landing. you blinked blearily at him.

"you okay?" he asked, cupping your cheek. you closed your eyes again and leant into his hand.

"headache," you mumbled, turning your face into his hand and kissing it a light kiss. "i'll be okay."

as soon as you stood up to get out of the quinjet though, a wave of nausea washed over you, forcing you to sit back down.

"or not."

peter rushed to pull you up gently, wrapping an arm around your shoulder as he held both of your bags in his other hand. he helped you out of the quinjet, into the compound and up to your room.

exhausted and sore, your head pounding like nothing else, you collapsed on your bed, absentmindedly taking off your wrist cuffs with your nanosuit in them, kicking off your shoes. peter puttered around, putting his bag down then your bag down then taking off his webshooters, shoes and jacket, pacing the room looking at you worriedly.

"do you need anything? like- like aspirin or water or juice or music? i head whale noises can help with a headache and-"

"peter," you mumbled.

"- but i haven't had a headache since i got my powers so i kind of don't know what to do and-"

"peter," you said, a little louder.

"-  i think i should get you some aspirin, yeah, and i'll close the curtains, and-"

"peter!" you called, regretting it as your head pounded particularly hard. peter stopped pacing, and looked at you. "stop pacing, you're giving me motion sickness. and please- just keep it down, i just need quiet okay? you can go get what you want, some aspirin would be nice, and a gatorade too. but please calm down. it's just a headache, i'm tense and stressed. it'll go away soon."

peter nodded and rushed out of the room. you lay on your back with a small groan, staring up at the plain white ceiling of your room. before the compound had been destroyed, you'd put glow-in-the-dark stars on the ceiling of your bedroom with your dad, and you could look up and stare at the fake constellation stories you had made, giggling with your dad. now the ceiling was empty, strange, unfamiliar. everything was- you had lost almost everything that night. your eyes burned with tears, which you wiped away, keeping your hand over your eyes, fighting the need to throw up.

a few minutes later, you heard your door swing open as peter reentered. you took your hand away from your face and looked at him, balancing two boxes of aspirin and four bottles of gatorade in different colours. he smiled at you gently as he put the stuff on your bedside table.

"let's get you sitting up, yeah?" he whispered, the look in his eyes oh so tender. he sat behind you, resting your back and head on his side so you didn't have to move too much and took out two small aspirin tablets. "i didn't know which colour gatorade you wanted so i got you all of them."

"i'll have the red one, thanks," you replied, taking the tablets and then the gatorade that peter opened, swallowing the pills with a large mouthful of the drink.

you sighed and moved so that you were lying in his lap and looked up at him. you giggled.

"what?" he asked, and you raised a hand to poke at his jaw.

"how do you not even have a double chin from this angle?" you pouted, "it's not fair."

"spiders," he replied, "they tend to do that to you."

you giggled again and sighed again, closing your eyes.

"i should go," peter whispered, raising your head so he could slip away from under you. "you want quiet, yeah?"

"i never said i didn't want you in here," you muttered. "i'm in pain, comfort me."

peter grinned and obliged, maneuvering you so you were lying under your blankets then slipping in next to you. he lay your head on his chest and wrapped an arm behind your neck so you were secure. you rolled onto your side, an ear to his heart. his heartbeat was so steady, as usual.

"i love you, and want you to know that you did great today," peter mumbled, stroking your hair.

"love you too. you also did really well. thanks for having my back."

"any time."

[lord-of-dawn-blog]

Made In Abyss Crash Course

So you wanna know about that big ol’ hole in the ground where people die, right?

Yeah ok. Let Bondrewd tell ya about the Abyss.

Set in a fictional unnamed world, Made In Abyss is a tale about people delving into a giant death hole located on a small island in the middle of the ocean. Around that hole, there is a town called Orth. 

Orth was created for the sole purpose of exploring this giant death hole, and it has the look of a Seventeenth Century coal mining town.

Now, why do people go into the Abyss? Why would anyone want to ever go down there?

For Artifacts and riches, why else.

Literally all over the place.

Cave raiding became a big then when people found out there was magic shit down there that when you touched it could stop time or shoot laser beams. Sells for a shit ton of money, and that’s the main source of income for Orth. They raise orphans and townsfolk into Delvers, who go into the hole to retrieve relics, which they then sell for money to fund the town, the cycle continuing on forever.

Quick stop, best time here to explain what the Delver levels are. You don’t start out as Rambo and go guns blazing into the Abyss, you start as baby.

Bells: Stupid babies who can’t do nothing but learn fundamentals of the Abyss, can’t even touch the bad hole.

Red Whistles: You can go down to the first layer, congratulations, have fun. 

Blue Whistles: Can go down to the second layer of the abyss; actually helpful and not a burden on society.

Moon Whistles: Teachers, gonna tell you about how to be a Delver. You get to go down to the third layer safely, but if you’re an idiot, you can go to the fourth.

Black Whistles: Actually really cool guys, basically the best most people will ever reach in their lifetime. Can go down to the fifth layer and hang out with Bondrewd.

White Whistles: THE COOLEST OF GUYS AND GIRLS. All you gotta do is have someone who loves you a lot die in front of you and entrust their wishes into you. They then turn into a whistles which only the person who was entrusted with can use. Have fun kids. Can go to the Sixth Layer and below, which is referred to as the Last Dive (Aka the curse will kill you if you try to climb back up, but hey it’s not like White Whistles have anything better to do.)

Alright we got that out of the way.

Big whoop, right? Sounds like a normal good time, but here’s the problem.

There’s a fucking curse in this death hole and it’s gonna fuck you up real good.

You see, the Abyss isn’t just one big hole; it’s separated by layers, and each layer has its own FUN WACKY EFFECT™ When you try to climb back up the hole. Going down is fine, though. It’s a one way trip if you aren’t experienced. 

Alright, lets go step by step, since this is basically the meats and potatoes of this post. 

THE FIRST LAYER,  Edge of the Abyss

Depth: 0~1350 meters

This is the first layer and consists of everything below the entrance of the Abyss up until the second layer. It’s a super easy place to start out, and it’s where most Delvers begin their careers.

Strains of ascent: Light Dizziness and Nausea, not bad, right?

THE SECOND LAYER, Forest of Temptation

Depth: 1350~2600 meters.

It’s a forest located on the second layer. Shit gets real here; there’s deadly monsters and poison plants.

Once you hit around 2,000 meters, the forest inverts and becomes known as the ‘Inverted Forest’. Located there is a base set up by the White Whistle Ozen.

You can go hang out with her. 

Strains of Ascent: Heavy nausea, headache and numbness of limb. Get them vomit bags ready, since you’ll be experiencing that every 10 meters you climb.

THE THIRD LAYER, The Great Fault

Yeah fuck you, it’s about 4000 meters of sheer cliff face.

Depth: 2600~7000 meters.

Literally just a cliff you need to find a way down. There’s holes that rodents have dug into the walls that Delvers use to climb down, as trying to scale down with rope is probably gonna get you killed. There’s a bunch of flying beasts here that will eat you and your family. 

Strains of Ascent: Vertigo combined with visual and auditory hallucinations. Have fun climbing that.

FOURTH LAYER, The Cup of Giants

Depth: 7000~12000 meters.

Not that bad in compare to the Fault, but it’s still incredibly dangerous due to the effects of the curse. The landscape is constantly changing as the Cup of Giants is actually composed of giant plants that form cup shaped heads that are shifting and changing on the daily.

The completely formed ones have water in them.

The ones that don’t have boiling acid.

There’s a lot of stuff here, such as the Eternal Fortunes garden, which is fun. (It’s not. It’s full of flesh eating insects.)

Strains of Ascent: Intense Full-body pain and hemorrhage from every single orifice of the body. Heyyyyyyyyyyy, FUNNY WACKY EFFECTS™

THE FIFTH LAYER, The Sea of Corpses

Depth: 12000~13000 meters.

It’s the shallowest of layers, but it’s also the largest in width (about 10,000 meters). Different from the other layers in that 1. The ground is covered in snow and the tempature is colder than almost everywhere else in the Abyss. 2. It’s also comprised of mostly ocean. 

Once thought to be the furthest Delvers could go, until Bondrewd found a way to pierce into the Sixth Layer.

The location of Bondrewd and his Forward Operating Base, Idofront.

To get to the Sixth Layer, you need to be a White Whistle, as only White Whistles can activate the elevator leading down.

Strains of Ascent: Complete sensory deprivation, confusion and self-harming behavior. Can’t get worse, right?

THE SIXTH LAYER, The Capital of the Unreturned

Depth: 13000~15500 meters.

This mysterious layer is the last stop for many White Whistles. Return from this point on is impossible without the loss of humanity.

Not much is known about the Sixth Layer, but balloons sent up through the Layers have talked about a ruined golden city, and a strange white ring that glows within the Abyss. 

Strains of Ascent: Devastating body alterations that result in the loss of humanity and sometimes death. (This transformation turns people into Narehates, which is the term for those who were affected by the Sixth Layer’s curse.) Yeah it gets bad. At least the next layer spares you this horrible fate.

THE SEVENTH LAYER, The Final Maelstrom

Depth: 15500~????? meters.

Even less is known about the Seventh Layer, except for one thing.

Strains of Ascent: Certain death.

Have fun exploring the Abyss, and remember...

Delve Safely

[bosstoaster]

Sorry if this is late. Not sure when 12 is for you. But. #70, Shiro, serious sick fic? I would love you forever.

It’s the 1000 Followers Special!  Based on these prompts.  Prompts are now closed.  Don’t want to see all 35 of these?  Block ‘1000 Followers Special’.  Can’t read on mobile?  These will slowly be posted to AO3 starting in a few days as ‘Hold Up Half the Sky’.  A huge thank you to Xagrok for the beta’ing!

AND THIS IS IT!  DONESKI!  FINITO!!  AHAHAHA!!!

....so my 2k milestone is 50 people away.

.....I might wait till 2.5k

“Uh, Shiro, you doing okay?”

Shiro paused, feet stumbling mid-step before he found his pace again, then he frowned over at Hunk.  “What do you mean?”  

Glancing down pointedly at Shiro’s feet, Hunk shoved on his helmet.  “You look a little flustered.  You okay?”

“He means you’re sweating like Pidge,” Keith translated flatly.  “You don’t look so good.”

Oh, jeez.  Shiro huffed in frustration, glancing between them both.  There was silence ahead of them from Pidge and Lance, which meant they were listening in carefully.

Of course they picked now to actually listen to him.

...Eugh, Shiro’s temper really was shot.

(Read More Below)

“Just a headache,” he told them.  “One of my quick colds.  I don’t think it’s a bad one.”

Lance huffed, his voice echoing back as Shiro put on his own helmet.  “You always say that.”

“Well, it’s almost always true,” Shiro replied.  He skidded to a stop in front of his zipline, glancing down.  For once, the drop made his stomach twist into knots.  Heights had never been a problem for Shiro (it had been harder to keep him from jumping off it), but right now the idea of swinging around was downright nauseating.  “We don’t have time for this.  Argue after we fight off the Galra, alright?”

Pidge made a grumpy noise, even as she hopped up to take hold of her own.  “Let’s make this quick, then.  You really look bad, Shiro.”

“Well, thanks,” he shot back, watching the rest of them grab on as well before taking hold of his own.  

He was right.  This as awful when he already had a headache.  By the time he was settled into Black, Shiro had to take several moments to catch his breath.

Then the sounds of fire against the castle shields snapped him out of it.  

Shiro could be sick later.  They just didn’t have time for this.

Hands on the controls, Shiro closed his eyes for just a second, connecting with Black.

For a moment, the familiar feeling hazed and nearly broke apart.  At first, Shiro thought it was because Black was joining the complaints about his health.  

Then he realized it was because of him.  Shiro’s concentration was shot.

Maybe he really was worse off than he’d thought.

Shiro took a deep breath, then focused again.  This time, Black met him eagerly, and his lion roared to life as they shot out, the last of the group to enter the battle.

It didn’t matter.  It really didn’t.  There was nothing he could do but fight.  He’d deal with it after, like he’d said.

“Shiro!”  Keith called, openly relieved.  “There you are.”

Shiro smiled back in case any of them pulled up the camera.  He hoped not.  All the comments about how bad he looked just left him self-conscious of it.  “Sorry, needed an extra minute.”  He dove in, tackling a ship tailing Pidge, knocking it away at speed, where it crashed into another ship.

“Did you throw up?” Hunk asked, instantly sympathetic.  “Throwing up in the suits sucks.  You can smell it, eugh.  You okay?”

Well, he’d been better before Hunk had started talking.  “I didn’t throw up,” he replied, voice sharp as he fought off the sudden mental picture.  It was vivid enough that Shiro could nearly smell it anyway, nearly taste the acid on his tongue-

“Just get your helmet off first.  Trust me.”

“Hunk, stop talking.”

The words came out harsher than he’d meant them too, urgency overriding his politeness.  In an instant, Shiro activated the jawblades on his lion and tore open the side of a ship.

Silence reigned.  “Dude,” Lance muttered, an immediate protective admonishment.

Shiro winced.  “I know you were trying to help,” he muttered.  “I apologize.”

“No, it wasn’t cool of me,” Hunk disagreed.  “If you’re already feeling sick, I wasn’t helping.  I’m sorry.”

“Everyone’s very sorry,” Pidge snapped back.  “Look, I’m all for playing nice, but the less time we spend on this the more time we spend on ending this sooner.  Then Shiro can be sick like a responsible paladin - in bed.”

Keith made a low noise. “Agreed,” he replied.  “This will be over quicker if we form Voltron.”

“We could use my bayard,” Hunk pointed out.  “It’ll clear out most of this pretty quick.  The rest will be clean-up.”

The suggestion hung in the air, each of them silent as they waited for Shiro’s call.

It should have been a no brainer.  But Shiro was all too aware of what they’d feel when they were connected to him.  Besides, Shiro had trouble keeping locked onto Black, much less four more minds.

But the allure of a quick finish was too strong to ignore.  “Let’s do it,” he replied, forcing his voice into confident command with long practice.

They connected immediately, but it was a rocky start.  The first touch of them made Shiro’s mind haze, his headache strengthening suddenly.  But he scrambled and caught out, Black guiding him through like he was taken by the hand.

Once in the connection, it was literally all Shiro could do to hold on.

“Shiro!” Lance called, voice rough.  “You said it was small.”

It had been when Shiro hadn’t been thinking about it.  Before the strain of the Black Lion and Voltron pulled him in too many directions.

Now, his headache was full on blinding, sparks flying behind his eyes.

Now, his stomach was turning on itself violently, and Shiro had to close his throat against the gags and heaves that wanted to escape.

Now, his muscles shook from the strain, all of him locked up in an effort to keep upright and in the moment.

In short, Shiro was completely stuck in place, unable to do more than breathe.

"Hunk," Keith called, snapping into action.  "Activate your bayard."

Pidge's frustration washed over them all.  "Are we sure?  We're really not stable, and keeping it together is hard enough without using the shoulder cannon."

Taking a deep breath, Shiro tried to agree, but nausea choked him instead.  He flashed his agreement down anyway, head swimming too much to create words.

"Keith's right," Lance agreed, and it was a sign of worry that it didn't sound awkward from him at all.  "We're this far, we can't just stand here and hope we don't get attacked.  Shiro's only going to get worse."

Shit, he never should have done this to them.

Vision hazing, Shiro curled upon himself, knees up to his chest.  Why was it so much worse, now?  He'd had a fever before, certainly, but nothing like this.

There was a rumble of an answer, and for a moment Shiro couldn't see the inside of the lion, but instead colors, energy, bright, moving, twisting, falling, colliding, fusing, trading-

It was a chaotic haze and Shiro's head pounded from it.  He closed his eyes against it, but he could still see it, and it made him feel like he was tilting and swirling.

Motion sickness, Shiro realized.  He'd never felt it like this.  During training for the Kerberos mission he'd gotten close, but this made him feel like he was going to spin out of control and never stop until his head came off.

Energy.  The word echoed in his head.  Quintessence.  It provides, and it is pulled.

Focusing again, Shiro was vaguely aware of voices, of intents and feelings, shared and separate, combined and focused.  The yellow-blue-green patch brightened, going painfully bright.  No, only the yellow was, and it travelled up, past green, until it was nearly at Shiro's face.  It flashed, and Shiro felt a tug, saw energy come from all of them and then leave.

Immediately after, Shiro slumped in his seat, and the vision left him.  He was back in the cockpit.

That was why.  The lions drew on them, both when they were individuals and when they were Voltron.  Now it wasn't just the Black Lion he was working with and strengthening, but all of them.

The Black Paladin was the head.  Shiro knew that.  He'd been told it from the beginning.  But he hadn't realized the strain of it.  The Black Lion tugged so much, and then the others on top of it...

It was energy his body didn't have to fight.  

It was energy Shiro needed.

But he hadn't had a choice.

"Is that enough?" Hunk asked.  "We can do another, if-"

"No," Shiro managed, and his voice sounded terrible, even to his own ears.  "Can't."

Just like that, they all separated.  Shiro just didn't have the energy to help keep them together.

He wasn't a limb.  Shiro was the torso and head, the connection.  He couldn't maintain it anymore.

Was he floating?  Was Black out of energy too?

No, he could still feel the chair under him.  Shiro was just still out.  He was losing it, floating away, his head heavy despite that, his lids trying to crash down, all of him torn in different directions, bubbling away in the armor.

A jolt startled him for a moment, and he vaguely heard the others talking, heard calls and commands, but he couldn't understand the words with his head so clogged and his mind so far away.

"You're okay," someone said, and Shiro didn't know who.  He didn't think they'd spoken.

Black?

Something tugged on Shiro's helmet, and he gazed up hazily to see Lance there.  Frowning, he placed his hand on Shiro's forehead, then pulled it back with a curse.  Shiro wasn't sure if it wasn't in English or if he was just too hazy to understand right now.

Meeting his gaze, Lance tried for a shaky smile.  "You're warm," he told Shiro, voice suggesting that Shiro should share the joke with him.

What was the joke?

Shiro stared back uncomprehendingly.

"Uh, I might need some help here," Lance called, looking back.  Yellow flashed over Shiro's eyes and he clenched them closed.  It was too bright, for one, and he was afraid of having his energy pulled so strongly again.  It would hurt.  It would leave him feeling worse.  Shiro didn't want it.  He protested when he felt a pull, kicking against it, but he started to float again-

Wait, not float.  He was held from behind.  Cracking his eyes back open, Shiro gaped at Hunk.  

Hunk smiled back down.  "I got you," he said.  "I can carry you, I promise.  I'm pretty strong."

Oh.  Okay.

Shiro leaned against Hunk's shoulder, utterly trusting.  If Hunk said he could, then he could, no questions asked.

Distantly, he heard Pidge talking fast, the way she always did when she was nervous.  From the lack of any audible response, she was probably on the comms.  Who was she talking to?  Were Allura and Coran okay?

Hunk took a step, and Shiro suddenly forgot about that.

"Um," he managed, struggling again.

Hunk held on tighter.  "Hey, I got you, remember?  You're not that heavy."

That wasn't the problem.  Why didn't he understand?  Each time Shiro tried to shift it made the problem worse.  He let out choked noises as he tried to communicate past the way his stomach was attempting to crawl out of him.

"Hunk, put him down," Keith said.  "He's going to-"

Shiro threw up.

Rather than let go, Hunk held out, even as he made a low, unhappy noise of his own.  "Guess I deserved that for before," he muttered.

"No," Shiro murmured. not really remembering what they were talking about, but not liking Hunk's tone.  "You did well.  M'proud.  All of you."

A burst of noise interrupted them, and Coran came in, bright oranges and blues and too much.  Shiro tried to hide his face in Hunk's chest, but the smell and hard planes of the armor made it uncomfortable.

"Here you go, Number One, a stretcher just for you.  I wish you'd said something!  Piloting a lion is a dangerous thing while you're already using your energy for something else, you know.  Why, I remember one time that King Alfor-"

Coran continued to chatter as he worked, getting Shiro onto the stretcher.  There was a flash of discomfort at being flat on his back on something medical, but Shiro was too tired to chase it.  Coran's chatter pushed it away anyway- there was no way he was somewhere bad if Coran was telling a silly story.  Around him, he could hear the other paladins, subdued but there.

Shiro was safe.

With that in mind, he drifted.