#lotorweek17

DAY 1: LOTOR_WEEK - 10,000 YEARS 

“10,000 years you have ruled most of the known universe

10,000 years you sat on that throne, spitting every demand to your commanders

Now, its my time to stand in the spotlight and out of the shadows. and become the leader that you could never imagine.

FATHER.”

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YES ! finally Lotor-week is here ! most of my artwork is still in lineart form but I will get them done since im off this weekend >< 

Lotor Week: Day 1 - 10,000 Years

Shiro frowns at the Prince standing in front of him, “Are you okay, Lotor?”

A smile makes its way on Lotor’s lips as he explains, “This is the happiest I’ve been in almost 10,000 years.”

“Wait,” Shiro pulls away slightly and raises an eyebrow, “You’re 10,000 years old?”

“Honestly, I’m not sure, but it feels like forever since I’ve felt…something.” Lotor identifies the shock and confusion on Shiro’s face, then feels his heart sink. “Is–is that a problem?”

Shaking his head and letting out a small laugh, Shiro leans in, “of course not.”

Here is the post that goes along with this!

I’m so excited for @lotor-week!!! I know this is OOC but remember that there are infinite universes in Voltron lol.

“Mother... I am your mother”

@lotor-week day two:

Lotor Week: Day 4 - Free Day

My first (second?) Lotor AMV! I actually posted this on YouTube several days ago, but now here it is!

I’d love it if you guys like, comment, and/or subscribe!

Pffft, no I’m not late! Nope, never late, always on time… Fml

Lotor Week DAY 5 - Altea/Galra

So Lotor is dressed as an Altean royalty(?) and comes to meet our favourite princess to discuss things or something? And if he does have altean markings (as in the pic^), he shows them to Allura and she is surprised and goes “Holy shit” and yeah, that’s it!

a lancelot college!au, where keith pines, lance’s friends are protective, and lance has to figure out whether he’s fallen for the wrong sort of guy | [ Ao3 link ]

“He calls himself Lotor,” says Keith, deadpans as Lance grins at him, surprised. His roommate almost never likes to chit-chat on the way to class, let alone before coffee.

“He doesn’t call himself Lotor,” Lance replies, laughs as Keith’s eyebrows give an involuntary twitch. “That’s his actual surname. Like how people call me McClain.”

“There’s someone on campus who calls you McClain?” says Pidge, blinks, and Lance casually flails both hands- details details.

“His wardrobe is 95% spandex,” Keith says again, flat, but Lance only chokes out a snort, the sip of water he took is now burning his nose.

“And that’s supposed to talk me out of dating him?” Lance winks, runs a hand through his hair. Keith relents to rolling his eyes.

“He does have pretty awesome taste in coloured contacts,” Hunk muses, as if he’s only just considered it. He swallows as Keith shoots him a betrayed glare.

“Look guys, I get it,” says Lance, and he lets his shoulder accidentally-on-purpose bump into Keith’s, so Keith will actually look at him. “He seems kind of aloof. His friends are maybe kind of scary. He doesn’t have a stellar academic record-”

“He’s been banned from half the colleges in Europe,” Keith interrupts, lowers his voice and quickens their pace. “Whatever he did to get expelled from Oxford, it was so bad that they erased his whole file. As in, the record doesn’t even exist.”

“Well jeez, Keith,” Lance says nervously, breathes out a laugh. “It’s not like I want him to be my academic tutor or anything. I just want him to be my-”

Lance pauses, hopes his cheeks don’t look as warm as they feel. One date seems a bit soon for the word boyfriend, he’s desperately trying to come up with something else that doesn’t sound so...

“-wait,” says Lance, and he looks to Hunk, to Pidge, to Keith, confused. “How d’you guys know about the banning thing? Or that his file was deleted? I’ve been crushing on this dude since he started and I don’t even know...”

Lance trails off as Pidge averts her gaze, Hunk becomes preoccupied with fixing his jacket, and Keith scowls worse than ever.

“Ohh man,” Lance sighs, halfway between amused and exasperated. “I take it back. Lotor’s friends are cool. My ametuer-sleuthing system-hacking friends are scary.”

“Sorry, Lance,” Pidge says softly, her eyebrows have tipped upwards in regret. “I promise we’re not trying to interfere. We were just really worried that this guy might be bad news.”

“And like, not in a fun, rich-kid-with-a-sassy-side kind of way,” Hunk adds, and though he’s aiming for lighthearted, Lance can see how much it means to him. “As in, an actual bad guy. Who might actually be dangerous.”

“He’s fucking trouble,” Keith snaps, looks slightly taken aback by his own tone. Keith shakes his head, hesitates.

“Okay. Okay...” Lance says gently, his hand finds the bend of Keith’s arm. He feels Keith tense-up, his posture only easing when Lance pulls him in for a hug. “I know you guys care about me. And believe me, if he was actually trouble, or actually dangerous, then I wouldn’t date him in 10,000 years. But like… can you just… maybe get to know him? And give him a chance?”

Keith looks up from Lance’s shoulder, his eyes dark and torn. Before Lance has a chance to read it, Pidge makes a quick gesture with her hand, Hunk clears his throat, covers his mouth as he mutters.

“Guys, guys, we have one chance, I repeat one chance, incoming 11 o’clock.”

Keith pulls abruptly back, Lance’s arms left empty in the air as he turns, eyes wide and his stomach flip-flopping, as-

“Hello, Lance,” says Lotor, his voice low and confident as he glides over, leans in to kiss Lance on the cheek. His long hair brushes Lance’s jaw as he does, flutters around his neck in the breeze. True to form, Lotor’s morning study outfit is a combination of tight and tighter, his cheek cool and his eyes bright as Lance shyly returns the gesture.

“Who’s up for coffee?” Lotor asks cheerfully, completely unfazed by the array of uneasy looks he seems to be getting. “My shout, there’s this new place just behind the boatsheds, you wouldn’t even know it was there. And my god do they know how to pour an espresso, I swear, I’m talking inhumanly good-”

“-I have class,” Keith says briskly, his upper lip hovers in a snarl as he reaches for his satchel. Keith pulls out the books he borrowed from Lance, thrusts them into Lance’s hands. “See you this afternoon.”

“Right, sure,” Lance babbles, the books nearly spilling out of his arms. “Catch you then.”

“We have a union meet,” says Pidge, and Hunk dips his head, apologetic. “Another time, yeah?”

“Oh. Of course,” says Lotor, and he raises his hand in farewell as Pidge and Hunk don’t look back.

There’s a small silence, before Lance reaches for Lotor’s hand, gives a tentative squeeze.

“I could kind of use a coffee,” says Lance, and he feels something loosen in his chest as Lotor gives him a small nod, carefully squeezes his hand back.

“In fact,” adds Lance, waves his free hand toward his departing friends. “If I’m being honest, I could kind of use all three coffees. I just pulled an all-nighter for analytics, and I’m still seeing floating numbers even now.”

Lotor stares at him, curious, tips his head to one side. And then, slowly, the angles of his features soften, his mouth pulls to a sharp sort of smile. He laughs like he doesn’t mean to, can’t help it, and Lance brims to a smile in return.

“Alright,” Lotor murmurs, and he sweeps Lance’s textbooks into his own arms before Lance can protest. “...thank you.”

For a moment he looks like he’s going to say something else, hesitates on the cusp of an inhale. Lance drops his gaze to Lotor’s front, suddenly worried Lotor might’ve heard more of their earlier conversation than he’s letting on.

But then the expression fades, Lotor looks more fond than troubled. He moves Lance's hand to his chest, pinches Lance’s fingers over his grey spandex shirt, then stretches the material, lets it snap back below his collarbone.

Lance snorts out a laugh.

“What was that for?” says Lance, it feels like something he’d do to be silly.

“You were staring,” Lotor winks, “saves you the trouble of having to ask.”

“As if I’d actually ask,” Lance grins, and Lotor tucks an arm over his shoulders as they start to walk.

“You can,” Lotor says after a while, and though his voice is quiet, he meets Lance’s eyes as he peers across. “Ask, that is. If you ever wish to.”

If Lotor’s trying to be reassuring he doesn’t quite appear used to it, he pulls an awkward, intimidating sort of squint instead.

“Oh. Okay,” says Lance. He figures Lotor’s figured, whether through intuition, guesswork, or he’s just been there that many times before. “Is now okay?”

“Yes,” Lotor says softly, and Lance pauses mid-step, gives him a searching look, then takes a breath.

“...would you ever call me McClain?”

Lotor blinks.

Then slowly, smiles.

“In all seriousness,” Lotor answers, and his eyes give a fraction of a twitch, mouth pulling at one corner. “If it made you happy...”

Lance is tall but Lotor’s taller, and he dips his knees to rest his brow at Lance’s, only for a second.