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All done! 😁it’s a new cover for the Astral Love fic~ my best, yet~

Some of Team Voltron's missions might go... not as planned and result in some pretty serious injuries. Poor Lance is just prone to jumping in to save someone else so he takes the brunt of them but the team is there to fix him back up again

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Am I a valuable person if I draw ? ... Maybe not when I'm drawing Voltron like that...

Saw one of my friends’ IG story that said she’s top!Lance stan and I... drew something... Usually I draw him as mushy soft pretty boi 😂

Day 11 - Historical au ya got lance as Helen of Troy, keith as Menelaus, shiro as Agamemnon, and Pidge is basically Odysseus

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Something I made for the Positivity Discord Valentine's Day Special! The prompt was "long distance", which I combined with a mermaid theme.

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(A naval battle during a storm)

Cassandra and Lance: VEX! MARRY US!!!

Vex: (Taking enemies out from both sides) DEARLY BELOVED, WE ARE GATHERED HERE TODAY—(more fighting) JUST KISS!!!

(Cass and Lance kiss while the camera revolves around them)

(Cut to Eugene looking over, cringing, rolling his eyes, and shaking his head)

Lance: (Hanging onto railing; grabs Cass’ arm)

Cassandra: (Looks at him) What am I to you?

Lance: (Smiles) Treasure.

Eugene: Lance! (Andrew is gaining on them)

Cass grabs onto the railing. Lance takes a sword and jumps, stabbing Andrew in the way down.

Eugene: (On deck) Where’s Lance? (Sees Cassandra crying over railing; he looks over the railing and realizes)

Cass and Eugene look at each other heartbroken and hug. Cass cries into Eugene, Eugene continues staring over the railing, trying really hard to hold his tears.

Blood Moons and Bad First Impressions - 1

He should have known something would happen tonight. Blood moons always forbade some sort of danger.

Lance crouched amongst the bushes, ignoring the roots and rocks digging into his soft belly. He inhaled, taking in the usual scents of earth and stone, grass and trees. This forest, his forest, was as familiar to him as his own mother. He knew where the squirrels and chipmunks stored their nuts, where the rabbits burrowed, where the deer slept with their young. He knew every stream and brook, every campsite to avoid. He knew which sounds belonged in his forest and which didn’t - hence his current decision to hide.

Through a gap in the brush, he saw nothing but the ruddy moonlight streaming through the silent trees. A hooting owl just above him nearly had Lance bolting out into the open. He forced himself to stay still. He could still hear it… the softest of treads through the underbrush, light panting.

Next came the smell. Thick fur and pine sap and frost. More important was the scent of magic that followed. Wild and Moonstruck, radiating ripples of danger that begged him to flee as far and fast as he could. Lance recognized it at once, dreaded the implications of it.

Finally, it appeared, an elongated shadow that shrank and recontorted back into a familiar shape as it got closer. With his current set of eyes Lance couldn’t make out the color of her fur, but his night vision allowed him a clear view of her broad shoulders and blocky face. A werewolf.

The she-wolf paused and snuffled at the ground. She cocked her head to one side and sniffed again. Lance wanted to laugh at her obvious confusion. Had she never smelled his kind before? It wasn’t like he’d gone out of his way to meet werewolf packs, quite the opposite, but still. It wasn’t like he was a rare breed.

She swung her head towards his hiding place and stalked toward him. The twin urges to run and stay hidden left him quivering in the underbrush. Though rather small for a wolf, she still had a good hundred pounds on him. Perhaps she sensed him because the she-wolf slowed her pace and waited just at the edge of the bushes. Lance tried to calm down. The scent of fear would only excite her.

One, two, three minutes passed in silence. Not even a breeze interrupted the cool night air with its song. The she-wolf made no move to flush Lance out, even though he knew she knew he was there. She was just… staring. Her eyes flickered, trying to catch a glimpse of him, but he was too far back into the bushes for her to see.

Two could play that game. Lance allowed himself to settle as much as he dared and waited for her to get bored and leave.

Ten minutes.

Twenty minutes.

Forty minutes.

They were both getting bored. Now was the time when a sensible werewolf would leave.

Not this one, apparently. 

She shoved her nose into the bushes. Lance acted on instinct. He bit her nose, his fangs scraping over sensitive skin, and ran in the other direction while the she-wolf yelped and sprang away.

He listened for the howl that would summon the rest of her pack. Don’t let them be too close, he silently begged. Lance was fast, and if he had a minute’s head start he could probably make it back to town before the pack could converge and ripped him to pieces. Much like real wolves, werewolves avoided human civilization as much as possible during their transformation.

No howling. Just the angry snarls of a wolf in pursuit. He dared to look over his shoulder. The she-wolf was alone, with no others in sight or smell.

Was she really alone?

Well then.

Lance zipped around a large tree trunk before shooting off in the opposite direction, a U-turn that caught the wolf by surprise and sent her skidding after him. Those extra seconds proved useful and he led her on a merry chase through the trees, zigging and zagging, sometimes circling back, always heading for a certain grove deep in the forest. The wolf was persistent and quick on her feet. She nearly caught him a few more times than he’d care to admit.

He finally leapt into the clearing and retreated to another clump of bushes, making no attempt to hide this time. He sat down on his haunches and waited the ten seconds it took for the wolf to find him, crashing through the underbrush as she did so. She glared from the other side of the clearing, her sides heaving. Not much of a hunter if she’s already winded by a little chase.

Sensing his scorn, she snarled and readied herself for a charge. Lance ignored her growling threats and focused inward. His own magic sank deep into the earth below and mingled with the sky above, a column of movement and energy and unfinished business.

It took little more than a thought. The she-wolf pounced at him, and at the last possible second, he vanished.

He reappeared on the other side of the grove just in time to hear a confused “Aroo?” and see her crash headfirst into the thornbush. Her whimpering howls scared a flock of dozing birds from their perch and they twittered angrily as the wolf struggled to disentangle herself from her thorny predicament.

Lance laughed and fled the scene.

Coyote: 1, Wolf: 0.


Lance would have preferred to shift in the safety of the woods, but he’d learned long ago that it was easier to hop the fence of the nature reserve in his coyote form. Rangers asked fewer questions. As it was, the dilapidated shed where he kept his clothes waited for him on the edge of town, and a cursory sniff confirmed that no one else was there. He shimmied through a gap in two loose boards and nosed his way to a haphazard pile of clothes.

For some shapeshifters, the change was long and painful. Many, like a certain werewolf, lost parts of their humanity and only regained it once they were back in their human form. But there was no real difference between Lance the human and Lance the coyote. His mind remained the same in either form and unlike many other shifters, he had total control over how and when he shifted. His employer claimed it was due to the origin of his magic, Lance liked to think it was due to his adaptable nature. In either case, it took a mere moment for the coyote to become a man.

His now furless skin prickled with goosebumps and Lance rushed to put his clothes on. He fumbled a bit with his belt, unable to see in the dark now that he had his human eyes. Shuffling to the door, he opened it a crack and peered out. The street was empty. He quietly snuck out of the shed and flipped up the hood of his jacket, keeping his head low as he reached the sidewalk and headed for home.

Thinking logically, he knew he didn’t have to worry all that much about being caught. Arus was a small town with barely 5,000 humans and 200 or so non-humans. There was only one establishment he knew of that was open this late.
It took twenty chilly minutes to reach his condo, and by the time he’d snuck into the apartment via the window his teeth were chattering constantly. Next time he needed to bring a thicker jacket.

Lance could hear his roommate’s faint snoring through the wall as he changed into warm pajamas. He thought about putting on his facemask but decided against it when he saw the time: 3:30 AM. Ouch. His bed felt like a warm, toasted marshmallow when he sank into it.

The image of the dumb she-wolf with a nose full of thorns flitted through his memory. He snickered and rolled over. Lethargy gripped his limbs, quickly followed by a dreamless sleep.

Lance in an 80-ish snow outfit

I just really wanted to draw Lance, even if the show is over I’m still very much in love with this boy. This came from an au idea I had in my head. I’m not very good at digital art so ( or traditional art) but I’m content with this

Ultimately my favorite part is this fool taking a tumble down the mountain:
seawolf - Chapter 7 - dakhtar - Voltron: Legendary Defender [Archive of Our Own]
werewolf!lance, at this point you probably already know what this fic even is
By Organization for Transformative Works

1k+ kudos guys, i’m- i’m absolutely shocked. but here, have a short, but nonetheless necessary chapter. i can only hope my favourite people (aka you) enjoy it. ;a;

To Change the Sun - Chapter 29

Chapter Warnings: Emotional angst, PTSD attacks (kinda)

Characters: Keith, Shiro, Allura, Coran, Lance, Pidge, Hunk, Laynek (mentioned)

Summary: Keith tries to get rid of a reminder of the past. Shiro vows to fix what has been broken. 


His relationship with Shiro was in danger. At worst, it had been fractured. An irreparable crack where the unrelenting trust between them had been.

And for what?

To keep a secret? To pretend like everything was okay?

Keith sobbed again.

They had lied to him. Let him believe his own narrative if that was what he preferred.

Even out of their clutches, the Galra continued to take everything from him. Starting with his sanity, and continuing with his friendships.

Read it here!

Random thought - If VLD was supposed to be a series about found family, then Keith wouldn’t have gone alone to save Shiro in Season 6.

And if Keith wouldn’t or couldn’t, or someone didn’t want him to have to, cut off Shiro’s arm, then someone else would have to. And that paladin would need a sword.

And if the arm cut off was the same one said paladin shook in the very first episode of the series - a handshake that was highlighted - 

- well, then.