Tuesday, August 15: Beach Day Bliss / What’s the Weather
Wednesday, August 16: Free Day
Thursday, August 17: Runaways from Royal Nannies
Friday, August 18: Wardrobe Updates Welcome
Saturday, August 19: Cooking up Chaos
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Did someone say Lotor in a dress? Yes, Lotor in a dress LOTOR IN A DRESS!! 😉
(Inspired by my Lotura fic “Kosmic Shopping”, with minor changes/additions)
Someday, I’d like to have that Kova pendant, too 💜 😸.
Technically just Lotor but this is part of a (very late) Lotura “Wardobe Updates Welcome” drawing, so I’m gonna tag it as LoturaWeek2023 (Allura picked the dress anyway, haha).
A very late submission to Lotura Week 2023 - "Cooking up Chaos" prompt.
NSFW in the link, beware :)
Read it on AO3
-------------------------------
“Allura, you’ve done it!”
“Is that…?”
“Oriande!” Lotor gazes with awe at the map projected from the compass stone.
Allura wipes another tear blooming in the corner of her eye. This time a happy tear. Her chest fills with hope. Perhaps she can be the alchemist her father was! Her heart beats in a new rhythm, a rhythm of exuberance, and if it weren’t for all the royal etiquette, she’d hug Lotor right then and there, in Haggar’s lair, under the purple lights, among the shelves with magic potions, skulls, mortars and pestles, flagons, decanters, quintessence vats and many, many other sorcerous implements that she couldn’t care less about.
Oh, she’s double-happy. No, make it triple! She unlocked the compass stone; Lotor is her ally; and - stars! - he’s half-Altean!! How much better can this get?
Unwittingly, her attention lingers a bit too long over his face, studying his handsome profile. He has… charming eyes, indeed he does… Absorbed in the novelty of the Oriande map, his pupils glint with delight, reflecting the sparks of the star charts. The silver hair cascades over his shoulders - ooh, and what fine shoulders! She bites her lip, watching the map’s dappled light project over his lavender skin. He’s… perfect.
Elated about their breakthrough, Lotor gallantly turns around to face her. “Princess, we must immediately—” He stops mid-sentence, lips parted. Her amethyst pupils dilate in a pool of azure, aiming straight at him, with a mystical and enthralling curiosity.
The air is electrified, and they both feel it. Is it just the exhilaration of the moment, or… something more? A silent accord hovers in between them, acknowledging this… tingling attraction.
Her lower lip is still pinched between her teeth. The hand holding the stone begins to tremble, causing the stellar map to glitch in and out, above their heads.
“Yes, we must, um…” she tries to find her words, self-consciously averting her gaze towards the compass. Caramel skin turns a shade deeper, and she feels the flush up to her ear tips.
“…announce the other Paladins,” he finishes her sentence with a tightness in his voice.
“The sooner, the better,” she clears her throat, regaining her composure, although her cheeks and ears do not lose their color so easily. Turning on her heels, she quickly turns off the celestial projection, places the stone in a pocket, then eyes the exit.
“After you,” Lotor royally extends his open palm, allowing her to walk out first.
The tingle persists in the air around them, like pixie dust permeating their pores, their lungs, their veins. He’s right behind her and she can feel his searing golden gaze upon her, as she advances toward the lair’s rotunda. To distract herself, she glances at the shelves, trying to focus… One object at a time... Oh, but does it really work?
There is magic within her, she knew that, but this new development gives her a boost of confidence that she can become more. She might learn about the Oriande alchemy. How amazing is that? And he will be there with her, along the journey. If he’s half-Altean, does it mean he might also possess powers? Perhaps that explains the… tingle in the air?
With every step, her senses become more and more attuned to her surroundings, and suddenly Haggar’s lair vibrates in deep cello octaves. Lotor’s footsteps slow down, then stop.
“Can you hear it, too?” she turns to him, and he nods, flicking an ear to one of the shelves.
An old leather coffer with rusty latches sits atop a lower shelf. Lotor’s eyes narrow into thin lines.
“It comes from here,” Allura points at the small chest, and Lotor approaches it with caution. The sharp nail of his forefinger flips up the two front clasps, and Allura slowly pulls up the dusty cover. The box releases a succession of low musical notes, in response to it opening.
Read the rest on AO3
Thank You, Lotura Fandom, For a Great Lotura Week 2023!
Lotura Week 2023 concluded on Saturday, August 19, and what a week it was! Our little community generated a host of wonderful works in response to this year's prompts. It was a privilege to host and support the week.
A round of grateful applause to those who created content and gave us all joy and anticipation to look forward to each day:
Special thanks as well to the week's supporters, who liked, reblogged, and submitted comments of encouragement and joy in response to the created content. It takes both content creators and content supporters to build and maintain a community. Your support means the world to everyone who created content for space elf shenanigans.
Whether content creator or supporter, you helped confirm that even in 2023, there is joy to be had together. And what a lovely legacy to afford this longstanding ship, which has weathered significant trials to still be a stronghold of imagination, creativity, and hope.
This blog will continue to be active, in the event of post-week submissions and if anyone would like to chat about ideas for 2024, or other events you'd like to see for lotura.
I wanted to say thank you so much for hosting Lotura Week this year!!! This was my first time participating, and it was such a blast to see all of the beautiful fanart and fanfiction all the way in 2023!!! 😍 The prompts were so much fun as well, and I just love that the themes were so lighthearted and silly! It was definitely something we needed after 5 years, and it was so uplifting to see the love people still have for these two beautiful space elves 🥹
Thank you again! This was a lot of fun and I hope we can all do this again next year!!! 🥰💖💜💖💜
Hello, and thank you so much for this note! Thank YOU for your participation, content, and cheer through Lotura Week. It's been so fun to be a part of the community energy, and to support all the delightful art and fic that this community had the love to create, even after 5 years!
So glad that the prompts for 2023 were enjoyable. After all the tough times and strife around us, it seemed like we could all use a little lighthearted fun.
Let's definitely do this again! :)
Emperor Lotor of the Galra entered his private study and stopped short in surprise, unsheathing his sword to wield against spies and soldiers. But the individual stooped over his desk—with all of its secrets of the empire—was no spy and certainly no decorated soldier that he knew.
Instead, a beautiful woman in an iridescent dress sat atop the wood, frozen, with Lotor’s own cat in her arms.
Lotor lowered his sword in disbelief, as before him sat the living image of the renowned Princess Allura of Altea.
She squeaked, releasing the cat before hopping off the desk in a manner most would have considered un-royal, her skirts lifting in the shuffle to show dainty ankles and a shadow of a slim, toned leg. “Oh,” the princess exclaimed, her elfin ears flicking back. “Oh, I’m so terribly sorry, whoever you are. You see, this darling creature stole my attention and guided me back here.”
Lotor’s split pupils lowered to the sight of the princess’s hands, which trembled as she moved to clasp her skirts.
“I am Princess Allura of Altea,” she babbled, moving to curtsey before him. Her thick, white curls slipped down her shoulder. “Please do not kill me, sir—my father would be very unhappy, as he would have to start a war, and really, no one wants a war anymore.”
The Emperor swallowed hard. He’d barely heard a word she had said, for his attention had swept to the princess’s bare shoulder and the glimmer of the gems in her hair. “I—” He cleared his throat, then straightened his spine. “I thought the planet Altea had not accepted my invitation at all.”
The princess stood up from her curtesy, eyes widening. “Your invitation?”
He tilted his head and swept out his clawed hand. “You are in my private study,” he said, his heart pounding. “And I am Emperor Lotor, the host of this ball.”
Allura’s slipped feet disappeared under her thick skirts, as did Kova, who continued to purr happily against her legs. Her chest heaved with fearful breath. “You’re Emperor Lotor? You?” She awkwardly began to backstep.
Most oddly, the more she stared at him, the more heated her cheeks grew, which Lotor could visibly see by the brightening glow of her Altean marks.
He could hear her heart pound in the same rhythm as his own.
And then he could sense it, even beneath her juniberry perfume.
Out of all the woman who’d come to the ball for his hand, it was the Princess Allura who found him attractive.
Lotor said to Allura, his velvet voice light and unassuming, “My apologies, princess. I did not mean to intimidate you. This is simply an odd spot to meet my most elusive neighbor from Altea.”
She flushed deeper, her marks a bright glimmer of pink. “Oh, I—I feel I’ve made a terrible bungle of things. I was supposed to—” she cleared her throat. “Well, I was quite hoping to represent my planet appropriately, and here I am chasing a pet.”
He smiled, his fangs glimmering in the low light of the study. “Kova is known to enchant all, but he rarely chooses to return the attention. That must make you special, Princess Allura.”
Her elfin ears—so sleek and delicate—flicked with the praise.
The heat off of her radiated to him, along with the maddeningly fast pound of her heart. His eyes began to dilate in response to her pheromones and the tension of the space between them.
Princess Allura swallowed hard visibly. “How, um, should I make up for this social faux paus, Emperor Lotor?”
Lotor hummed, then held out his hand. “I would request a dance with the Princess of Altea, if she is agreeable. And if she can untangle Kova from her skirts.”
The cat’s tail swished lazily from beneath the hem of Allura’s dress. He had lain over her slippered feet, purring loudly in contentment of her warmth and scent.
Allura made a noise, delicately lifting up her skirts to reveal the sleepy cat. “Am I allowed to dance with your owner, little one?”
Lotor’s eyes caught sight of the princess’s dainty ankles once more, along with the glimmering gems of her slippers. He had difficulty looking away.
The cat meowed in a pout before rising up, slinking away with a look at Lotor.
Lotor glanced back at him, quirking a brow.
The next thing he knew, the princess’s fingers gently grabbed for his own, and her scent enveloped him in a delightful haze.
“I do not know Galran dances,” she admitted quietly, raising her eyes to him. “But I am willing to learn if you do not mind to teach me, Emperor Lotor.”
He glanced back at her. The tension between them heightened.
“Perhaps,” he murmured, “you could teach me an Altean one in return.”
Her face lit up with a bright smile, her cheeks glowing once more.
“Surely, you jest,” Allura said, a hand on her hip as she giggled. She wore a long ball gown of deep blue and white, her neck glimmering with diamonds. “Is this your only outfit?”
Lotor raised his chin, his face flushed as he straightened his spine. “What is wrong with armor?”
She paced around him, running her finger along the line of his broad shoulders. “Well, my husband, this is armor for war and survival. We have been invited as guests to a great dinner hosted by the Alliance, in which we must still present with power and prestige, but not threateningly so.”
He huffed at her. “I do not intend to duel with any allies.”
“I know, I know.” Allura giggled. “But I’m quite sure I’m the only one who has ever seen you without armor.”
“You suggest I attend naked?”
“Oh, no. Not at all!” She patted his chest, her fingers a soft tap against his armor as she added, voice low, “I do like to keep you to myself.”
“I should hope so,” he said, preening.
“But notwithstanding that, I fear the universe is beginning to question if you know how to wear anything else.”
Lotor did not respond for a time, instead glancing off to the side in the silence. His claws ticked against his armored thigh. “You know how I am.”
Her fingers slipped from his chest to grab onto his hand and squeeze it. “I do know,” she said, voice softening. “I know it’s hard to stop wearing armor after so much war.”
He glanced down at their intertwined hands and squeezed her fingers back, an emotion coming over him. “You are the only one I trust not to attack when I do not wear armor.”
Allura pulled him into an embrace, wrapping her arms around him. He embraced her in return, careful of his claws as he stroked his fingers along the diamonds sparkling in her white curls.
They fell quiet, the grand flagship warping through space with a deep, merry hum.
“You know,” Allura said, tilting up her chin to rest it on his chest plate. “I learned from Keith the other day that the humans make a weapon-proof cloth, called Kevlar. Perhaps we can travel there before the next dinner and have a royal tunic made for you, but out of material that can bend swords.”
His ears flicked, his pupils widening in interest. “Kev…lar?”
“Yes, dear husband.”
His fingers ticked against the soft silk of her dress. “In that case, my wife, clothe me in this…Kev-lar, and I shall wear whatever fashion you deem appropriate. Preferably, in dark colors.”
Allura’s face split in a great smile, glowing. She pulled away, reaching for a datapad. “Oh, how exciting,” she squealed. “At last, we can match.”
In which Allura visits Lotor in his dimension and meets his parents! 💖💜 Inspired of course by Across the Spider-verse as well as the Sincline-verse AU!
Allura had never considered herself particularly foolish or in need, but as straits grew more dire, she found herself more and more willing to entertain certain flights of fancy, all the way until she had gathered her wits and struck out into the forest in search of the witch that lived there.
The closer she got, the easier her walk, bramblebushes giving way to a well kept path, undergrowth trimmed back, and in the center of the clearing she approached: a sprawling herb garden with a neat and tidy cottage in the center. It seemed out of place, if only for its charm in an otherwise wild stretch of forest.
She cleared her throat as she entered the clearing, unsure of how close would be too close to go uninvited. But nobody was in the garden, and there was smoke pouring from the chimney, so her mark must surely be inside.
She knocked on the door.
The man that answered was—not quite what Allura had expected. He was purple, for one, not green. With long, trailing, starlit hair and catseyes. His hat was so large it almost wouldn’t fit through the doorframe, with a dent at the halfway point that left the tip pointed sideways, and his dark robes trailed the floor with a tattered end.
“Greetings.”
“Oh,” Allura jolted, blinking and gathering her manners, “Hello, um, good witch?"
The man snorted softly, smiling with an almost playful gleam. “When it suits me. Come in,” he ushered her in, and she let out a small noise at a second surprise.
“I, oh, I hadn’t realized there were two of you,” she mentioned, hoping that wasn’t too rude. There was another woman, her body even more changed by her magic than his, eyeless and seeming… scaled, lounging near the fire, cat on her belly.
“Typically, witches are solitary outside of gatherings,” the man mentioned, stirring something in the cauldron over the flames. “It’s just that somebody decided to take my cat as her familiar.”
The blind witch looked smug, gesturing something Allura did not understand at him, and he let out a grumbling noise. He huffed, and turned back towards Allura.
“But come, you’ve traveled all this way for a reason, have you not, Princess? Tell us what you wish from us, and we’ll assess the cost.”
Allura settled her hand on the bag in her deepest pocket, filled with things she truly hoped the witches might take. She had no real desires to offer up any firstborns or lindworms.
“My father’s court is full of liars,” she stated. This was… pretty well known, all considered. Even her father admitted to it now, and he’d long attempted to hide the truth from even himself on the matter. “They’re deceptive and cunning, and will lead us all to ruin. I’ve tried begging my father to take more aggressive methods with them, but he resists. I… do not wish to kill them, but come in search of whatever solutions you are capable of providing.”
The male witch hummed, stirring his brew. “If the liars are the issue, then perhaps they should not be allowed to lie.”
Allura frowned, then lit up. “A truth spell?”
“Potion, but yes,” he said, ladling glowing yellow liquid into a pitcher. “I’ve none on hand, and Narti—” he turned to look at the lady witch (Narti, Allura supposed), who shook her head, “—has none either. Give me a moment to put my current brew away, and we shall have an elixir that will make even the most silver tongued liar speak plainly.”
“And the cost, for such a thing?”
He cast her a sly glance. “What have you to pay?”
Allura pulled from her pocket the bag she’d brought. “Gold, and jewelstones. Coin, if you want it.” Though, rumor had it witches rarely did. “If you want something else—”
“We’ll take the coin,” he said easily, and—oh.
For some reason she’d expected it to be harder than that.
He laughed at her expression. “Despite what the fairytales will tell you; even witches need to purchase goods and services from those in town. You’re more capable of affording to part with your coin than some of the desperate folks that cross our door.”
Well now she just felt silly.
She cleared her throat. “And will you tell me your name, good witch?”
“Lotor. And I know you, Princess Allura. There’s plenty talk of you, around the kingdom.”
“What kind of talk?”
“Mm. I wonder,” Lotor hummed, continuing to drain the cauldron and offering no elaboration. “But I will warn you of one thing, Princess. There is a second cost to our deal: the cost of using magic at all. The more you use, the higher the price. Be cautious, little royal, that you do not use so much, that it becomes a price you are unwilling to pay."
Like the purple skin. And the scales.
“I’ll be careful. I don’t plan on needing more than just this, anyway.” If she could just oust the liars, if they could separate the wheat from the chaff, she knew things would get better.
“No one ever does,” he warned, tipping over the mostly-empty cauldron to let the remaining trickles of glowing amber slip through a grate on the floor, mingling with ash and other discarded brews below.
She watched him begin the next batch, made mostly of harmless water, but the more ingredients he added the more… otherworldly, the mix became. He had her fetch a few things for him while he stirred, and Allura was willing enough to comply, figuring normally Narti must do this (or that helping make the potion was perhaps necessary, since she’d be the one to use it).
It worked.
The court was in chaos. Everyone was saying what was actually on their mind and all hell was breaking loose. It had started when a courtesan had told Alfor to his face that she thought he was weak spined and easily manipulated, her eyes going wide in horror as she had attempted to backtrack, but her tongue hadn’t let her.
Allura watched on with what she hoped was not-too-obvious glee.
Alfor took advantage of the magic, however it had come about, and was able to swiftly dismiss those forced to confess their ulterior motives. He was left with a small, but genuinely loyal group, and they began rebuilding their ranks with similarly loyal replacements.
Allura’s hair turned slowly silver, over the days it took to oust the liars. She hid her hair behind colorful scarves and told her mother it was simply premature greying.
All was well for months after that, until Allura’s mother fell ill.
“Welcome back, Princess Allura. Your hair looks striking,” Lotor greeted, looking slightly flustered at her appearance. “Was the truth elixir insufficient to the task?”
“Not at all,” Allura assured as she entered his home once again, Narti off somewhere and a mug of tea wafting softly next to an open book with complicated diagrams in it. “It was exactly the miracle I needed, but now I ask you for another.”
“Then ask away, but remember: all magic comes at a price.”
“For this, I would pay anything—”
“Be careful how you utter such words.”
“My mother is sick!” Allura burst, tears in her eyes only for her to swipe them angrily away, smearing on her cheeks. “My mother is ill, and nobody can cure it. Help me, Lotor, I don’t care if it turns me into a frog if it means my mother lives.”
Lotor’s expression softened and he placed a gentle hand at her elbow. “Ease, Allura. Ease. Tell me her symptoms. I’ve magic aplenty to spend on her cure.”
“Yes?”
Allura had been so worried, so anxious that perhaps this was not the kind of magic he could do.
“Yes. She will be alright, Allura.”
Allura sagged against him, and allowed him to comfort her, to settle her on the couch with a mug of tea of her own as she explained the onset, the symptoms, the nature of her mother’s illness. He listened steadily and took notes, and nodded at the end.
“I know of the cure that will work. Sit tight, Princess. You will carry it with you when you leave.”
And so she sat, and watched him, and found his silvery hair to be even prettier than the last time she viewed it.
“Thank you,” she said in his doorway, with a sachet of something faintly glowing in her hands and her purse much lighter. She rose up on tiptoe and pressed a kiss to his cheek. “Thank you, Lotor.”
He stood dumbfounded at his own threshold, and she giggled before taking off, his catseyes on her as she left.
The next morning, her mother was cured overnight, and Allura found what she at first believed to be a rash all over her own skin. Except it wasn’t a rash, it was… markings. Crescents and circles and half moons and dots and waves, all bright pink, decorating her limbs and spine and two V’s on her cheeks.
She swore her ladies in waiting to secrecy and hid the marks beneath her clothes, all except those two facial markings which she passed off as “a fashionable new trend of face painting.” Everyone was too relieved over the queen’s recovered health to pay the princess’s antics much mind.
And all was well in the kingdom a second time. Allura felt almost like she was ready, when the third trouble arose.
War with their bordering country had long been something that loomed on the horizon. It seemed with their court cut in half, and the rumors of the queen’s illness and likely death spreading slowly their direction, they’d taken this as opportune timing.
Allura was not fearful of the outcome of a fair battle. Her father’s forces were powerful and well armed.
Allura was worried about their beast of a champion, a man more lion than human, undefeated no matter the number of foes he faced.
“You wish to craft a champion of your own?” Lotor echoed, and Allura nodded.
“My father has a loyal soldier I think would bear the burden, but I need something that will put him on equal footing to their lionman. Lotor,” Allura reached out, and placed her palm over his, “this I ask of you.”
Lotor sighed. “You make it terribly difficult to deny you anything.”
“Then do not deny me.”
“There will be a price.”
“I know.”
And so Lotor gave her a greave imbued with magic that hummed all through it, and Allura asked her father’s soldier if he would bear its burden.
He did. It cost him his right arm, forever changed, but he did, and he won against their lionman, despite the difference in their sizes.
Allura paid the cost of the magic’s casting. Her hair, she could hide. Her markings, she could wave away.
But when her brown eyes turned bright near-glowing blue, the secret could be kept no longer.
The princess was using magic. The princess was consorting with witches.
And so the princess took off her crown and picked up as many coins as she could reasonably carry, and left.
And now there are three witches, stirring a cauldron in the woods.
Lotura Week 2023 - Day 7 (Saturday, August 19) - Cooking Up Chaos
It's the final day of Lotura Week 2023!
Interested in creating content? Please read the Rules & Guidelines.
To be reblogged, please use the hashtag loturaweek2023 and @loturaweek2023 in your post! This blog will be checked through September if you have a late submission.
“Two Galra con artists with royal airs”, trying to fool Varkon, the mighty space mall cop. As promised, here is my illustration inspired by my Day 1 fic, Kosmic Shopping.
