luthiendraws

[luthiendraws]

does anyone wanna hold hands until we feel a little braver

[luthiendraws]

This year I had the pleasure of being part of this amazing event, THAUC 2024! And now it's time for reveals!

The wonderful creators of Thauc proposed us three different prompts but my partner @luthiendraws and I were really interested in one theme in particular:

Bilbo's deeds on the quest have garnered him attention from eligible sutures and Thorin is trying to handle his jealousy with grace.

While I worked on the first part of the lineart, the amazing @luthiendraws made the other, then we switched for the colouring phase!

I had so much fun in the making of this comic, having the chance to exchange ideas and create something together was a blast. I loved every step of the journey ;-)

See you next year hopefully!

[luthiendraws]

Tips for writing those gala scenes, from someone who goes to them occasionally:

Generally you unbutton and re-button a suit coat when you sit down and stand up.

You’re supposed to hold wine or champagne glasses by the stem to avoid warming up the liquid inside. A character out of their depth might hold the glass around the sides instead.

When rich/important people forget your name and they’re drunk, they usually just tell you that they don’t remember or completely skip over any opportunity to use your name so they don’t look silly.

A good way to indicate you don’t want to shake someone’s hand at an event is to hold a drink in your right hand (and if you’re a woman, a purse in the other so you definitely can’t shift the glass to another hand and then shake)

Americans who still kiss cheeks as a welcome generally don’t press lips to cheeks, it’s more of a touch of cheek to cheek or even a hover (these days, mostly to avoid smudging a woman’s makeup)

The distinctions between dress codes (black tie, cocktail, etc) are very intricate but obvious to those who know how to look. If you wear a short skirt to a black tie event for example, people would clock that instantly even if the dress itself was very formal. Same thing goes for certain articles of men’s clothing.

Open bars / cash bars at events usually carry limited options. They’re meant to serve lots of people very quickly, so nobody is getting a cosmo or a Manhattan etc.

Members of the press generally aren’t allowed to freely circulate at nicer galas/events without a very good reason. When they do, they need to identify themselves before talking with someone.

[luthiendraws]

"The Hobbit movies aren't accurate. The Hobbit's movies made the dwarves too hot"

SHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

Shhhhhh.... shh

Look into my eyes right now and know I'm being so serious.

I. Don't. Care.

I don't care that it's basically Tolkien fan fiction. I'm under no delusion that it's accurate, I know the studio used the movies as a money grab insted of letting PJ do what he actually wanted. I KNOW. We *all* know.

I still don't care. It brings me joy.

[luthiendraws]

Soooo are we choosing to ignore the new ‘Arcana’ prologue? K great.

[luthiendraws]

For some reason in my head Socrates and Aristotle are always old wise men with long beards, but Plato is always a young twink.

[luthiendraws]

ANGELANGELANGELANGELANGELANGEL

I finally have some time to create touchstarved fanart‼️

[luthiendraws]

IM SO EXCITED FOR TOUCHSTARVED ITS UNREAL

[luthiendraws]

I really wish in Lucio’s route there’d been this huge confrontation. Between the cast and Lucio with MC.

Asking MC how they could see any good in Lucio, how they could go with the man who’d caused so much pain. Asra with tears in his eyes, Muriel holding him, glaring daggers. Nadia, ready to draw her sword, demanding to know how MC could betray them all in this way. And Julian, Julian who is so very flamboyant, and never shown to be angry. Screaming, so angry a vein is popping out on his forehead, screaming at MC that they had just hurt them all so badly. Screaming that he couldn’t believe they’d not even consider what kind of man Lucio is.

And MC says they know, they know he’s horrible and they don’t expect forgiveness for themself or for Lucio. But they believe he can change, they believe that he can be better. And everyone is now finally looking at Lucio. “Don’t say it was just an ‘oopsie’ you knew what you were doing” telling him that there is no excuse. He only cared about the plague when he was sick. And it doesn’t quite sink in for him yet. It doesn’t sink in until he and MC learn that MC was one of the people who died. They are angry with him, when they learn that he really didn’t care about trying to cure the plague until he was sick. They’re angry that because of him, they don’t remember anything.

And it come crashing down on Lucio, everything he’s done and the gravity of it all. Because now he finally cares about someone and that someone is seeing how awful he was and he can’t deny it or excuse it anymore. It comes crashing down on him and he sobs, and he begs for forgiveness. And MC says they aren’t the only one he needs to make amends with. He isn’t as warm to MC, he just can’t bring himself to be. But he can’t bring himself to leave them entirely either.

Muriel and Julian would never forgive him, Asra would simply tolerate him more and try to be less cold. But he can’t forgive Lucio for taking his parents and hurting his best friend. But he still loves MC, so he’s trying for them. And so that they won’t be alone if Lucio hurts them, too. Nadia tries, she really does. Lucio is just too loud for her. But this time, he actually is doing something. He’s taking up being count again. He doesn’t want to, but he knows he let Vesuvia fall into the state it’s in. So he’s trying to fix it, to make up for what he’s done in any way he can.

Of course he’s still loud, and sometimes selfish or only seeing what he wants. But now he’s trying, because he finally saw that there was so much more than himself. And after defeating the Devil, Lucio finds and frees Asra’s parents of his own accord. He apologizes to Nadia and he listens to her when she gives advice and actually values her input. And the city finally starts to get back to what it should be instead of what it’s become.

Lucio apologizes to Muriel…well he tries to. Muriel doesn’t want to see him, but Lucio makes a magical deal with Muriel, that he won’t hurt anyone else. And that Muriel will never be made to hurt anyone else. He knows he can’t make it up to Muriel, but he still wants to do something. So he finds the Kokhuri and he just tells Muriel where they are. So he can choose to see them himself, and learn about himself and his tribe.

And as for Julian…Julian is harder for Lucio to apologize to. Instinctively he wants to excuse what he did on his mental state and on being afraid to die. What he finally does is just admit that he was cruel. That he shouldn’t have forced the threat on dying from the plague onto Julian. He doesn’t even know where to start to try and make up for what he did. All he can think to do is say he’s sorry and then leave Julian alone.

Portia well…he didn’t actually do anything to her. But he has to sit and listen while she scolds him as if he were a child. And he acknowledges that he deserves much worse, but Portia wouldn’t do anything worse and he’s grateful for that

That’s the Lucio route I thought we’d get, one where he works hard to be better. And one where he stays to fix Vesuvia before leaving Nadia to be the countess

[luthiendraws]

My hot take on Lucio’s route:

I think that the fact that he got a route is a good thing, however I think that it should have looked a bit different. Instead what it was, I think it should have been something along the lines of repairing his past mistakes (pandasanddragons has an amazing post about it that’s reblogged on my page). Unfortunately, the other M6 didn’t get the apologies they deserve from him, but that’s why fanon exists ig TwT.

[luthiendraws]

“i liked it before it was cool” well i liked it AFTER it was cool when everyone abandoned it

[luthiendraws]

With Dorian bringing the routes onto their app, cosplayers that were active in the fandom back in 2019 are cosplaying the arcana cast again, and its giving me so much nostalgia from (what i consider to be) the golden age of the arcana. It makes me happy to see these creators posting the main 6 and side characters again :)

Edit: I do not support Dorian at all, what I mean is that it’s nice to see creators be active again

[luthiendraws]

Good Eugene= normal angels

Evil Eugene= biblically accurate angels

[luthiendraws]

“Your mysterious young friend, whose name you have never told me, but whose picture really fascinates me, never thinks. I feel quite sure of that. He is some brainless, beautiful creature, who should be always here in winter when we have no flowers to look at, and always here in summer when we want something to chill our intelligence.”

“The Picture of Dorian Gray”- Oscar Wilde

[luthiendraws]

Ok so as someone who has seen the new Doctor Strange but hasn’t read the comics or anything, America’s powers seem interesting to me.

Specifically the portals that she opens. They’re star shaped, which I don’t feel like we see a lot of stuff that’s shaped like anything. Just floaty sparkly magic stuff. Anyway, I was thinking about how maybe the reason they’re shaped like that is because of her age? I mean I’m not sure how old she is exactly, but she seems fairly young.

I’m curious to see if, as she grows, does the shape change? I honestly hope not, it’s nice.

Again I haven’t read any comics, these are ramblings from a entry level fan XD

[luthiendraws]

Everything Comes With A Price

A Julian Devorak fanfic (also on AO3, same title ^^)

Julian sat at his cramped desk, imprisoned in his office in the palace dungeons. The Plague was beginning to take its toll on him. His thoughts began to run together, becoming more and more delirious. Only one image remained clear in his mind: the raven-headed man. He tried to remember just where he saw the creature for the first time. He racked his tired brain, looking for an answer to at least this. Then, it came to him, as if lightning struck an old oak one last time. He flew to a lonely shelf drilled into the stone wall. Deft fingers grazed the spines of the few books he had left until he found the one he was looking for. Pulling it free from the rest, the silvery mark on the cover held the promise of answers to the millions of questions buzzing around his head. 

Sitting back down at the decrepit desk, the doctor flipped through the pages, trying to find an illustration or at the very least a description of the raven-like creature. One passage eventually stuck out to him: 

“The Hanged Man is the XII Major Arcana in a tarot deck. In its Upright form, it represents righting wrongs and taking accountability.”

Julian thought about the words on the yellowing pages before him. Taking accountability, huh? He thought to himself. Well, who exactly takes accountability for a plague? The doctors? Should we be the ones hanging for our failures? This question made him stop. Who should be taking accountability? Many answers were possible, however it was harder to decide which was correct. Looking back to the book, he read on: 

“In its Reversed form, The Hanged Man represents a call to action of sorts, a sign to start moving now. 

“What do you think I’ve been doing?” he muttered to himself. Flipping through the rest of the chapter, he found that it was possible to contact the figure, through a magician’s gate. 

“Well it’s a bit late for that” he sighed, thinking back to a certain fluffy-haired mage. 

Continuing on, he read that The Hanged Man could also be reached through borders. At first, he thought the book meant physical borders. He stood up and stepped onto a crack in the stone floors. Nothing happened. Perplexed, he thought maybe that it wasn’t a large enough border, and attempted to slip his foot under the door of his prison. Still no results. 

Sitting back down, he read even further. Upon this, he discovered that if he simply had read a bit more, he would have found that they had meant a metaphysical border, such as the state of being between consciousness and asleep, or, more gravely, between life and death. Well, he thought, I do need to sleep eventually. He laid down on the uncomfortable slab he called a bed, and tried to quiet his mind for long enough to fall asleep. 

Sleep came after what seemed like hours of tossing and turning. When he woke up however, he was not in his office any longer. He was standing on an island with a solitary lamp that gave off a bloody red glow. Mangrove trees grew around him, branches twisted into an incomprehensible tangle. Looking around, he couldn’t see any other life forms. He called out into the surrounding fog, listening intently for another voice, or any other sign of life for that matter. 

Then, out of the gloom, appeared the figure that haunted many of his dreams. The Hanged Man stood before him, seemingly flesh and bone. 

“Before you ask, no, you are not imagining this. You are between sleep and consciousness, but you shall soon wake, so do make haste” the creature stated, their voice steady. 

Julian’s mind raced, struggling to find the right words to get his point across. 

“Well- I- This-” he stammered, not able to find his footing in the sudden time crunch. He took a deep breath, conscious of his words and his limited time frame. Even though many questions layed heavy on his heart, such as Did you suffer terribly before you were gone? Did you blame me?, but he knew that he had to prioritize his duty to the city over his own feelings. 

He finally was able to choke out the right questions: “What is the source of the plague, and how do we stop it?” 

The Hanged Man looked thoughtful, Julian thought he looked mildly impressed, even though it was for a fleeting moment.

“Many questions occupy your head don't they? Even more lie in your heart. It takes true courage to ask the right ones.” They paused for a moment, studying the man before them. “Unfortunately, everything comes with a price, that includes answers to such burning questions such as yours. I mainly deal in amending past wrongs, or celebrating forgotten victories. Therefore, the currency I deal in are memories.” 

“Memories?” Inquired Julian. 

“Yes. You simply choose what memories to give up, and in return, you will receive the cause and cure to the plague. I do wish I could give you more time to decide, however, we are running short on that resource in particular.” 

It didn’t take long for Julian to decide to take the deal. The problem was deciding which memories to give up. The ones filled with remorse came to mind first. The problem with giving up those memories was forgetting the people who were in them. More specifically, one person. Each memory was tainted with remorse, but behind that was a flicker of good feelings, of laughter, of love. But he knew he had to let those memories go. That those times were long dead, left with the dying breath of a well loved soul. 

After a short while, he turned to the figure. “I’m ready to make the trade.”

 The Hanged man reached out a clawed hand, waiting for Julian to shake it. After a final moment of hesitation, Julian took their hand. A mark started to appear on his throat, the same one that was emblazoned on the dusty book. 

The searing pain woke him with a start. It felt as if someone had taken a white-hot knife and carved a pattern into his throat. Sitting upright, he grabbed at his neck, trying to dull the pain somehow. Then suddenly, the pain dissipated, leaving nothing but smooth skin, and a fleeting memory of someone's voice. The trip had been a success. He flipped to a chapter in the book about message sending, and scrawled out a short message to Asra, explaining his plan. He hoped that maybe there was enough compassion in the magician’s heart to help him one last time.Finally, the doctor knew how to stop this damned plague. 

1.1k words

[luthiendraws]

M6 + some short angsty prompts I’ve found

A/n: I’m not really sure how I feel about this so I might go back and rewrite another Julian angst prompt 🤷‍♀️

Pairing: Julian x GN reader

Prompt(s): “I can’t believe this is happening to me again.”

Warnings: maybe mentions of ptsd, mental health issues

Asra | ✨Julian✨ | Muriel | Lucio | Portia | Nadia

When you began today with him, this is the last thing you expected. A warm, humid breeze rolls at you gently, along with the quiet lapping of the waves flowing underneath your dangling feet. You’re not sure why, but you thought you had both sorted through these issues together. It was a foolish thought, though, considering you know that these sort of issues can never truly be completely fixed… But it’s been better, so you had started to hope before you knew it.

You run your fingers over your names carved into the old wood. This dock holds a lot of great memories; you and Julian would often walk out here after nights on the town, and spend a while staring up at the moon together. His loud, expressive voice would wane across the quiet docks, and he would command every piece of your attention. When the two of you would sit out here like that, Julian and you were the only people that existed in the world…

There’s a hollow silence this time, though. Your chest tightens painfully, your stomach rolls, and your head runs blank. The deck is still warm from Julian sitting next to you; he was curled in on himself, his revealed eye reddened with tears but face tense while trying to hold them back. His words repeat in your head…

“I don’t deserve you.” It’s not the first time you’ve heard that damned line. After all, healing isn’t linear. There are ups and downs and times where you find you’ve stumbled back a few steps; you know how hard it is to put yourself back together. That’s why every time that beautiful, dumb, sweet, kind doctor has said these words to you, you’ve planted your feet and said you’re not going anywhere. But this time… Something’s different.

A shaken breath leaves you at you let your eyes stare at the pitch black horizon. The Lazaret is out there… You can’t see it so late at night, but you can feel it staring at you. That island has kept you up these past few nights… That sand has been under your feet in your dreams, the lick of fire against your clammy skin, the smell still lingers in your nose sometimes. You were honest with Julian about these dreams, after all he’s woken up to you gasping several times, and he’s not taking it well either… Obviously.

You shake you’re head and rub hard at the back of your neck. You’re not quite sure you have it in you to be stubborn right now…

That’s why Julian is standing clear on the other side of the docks, arms crossed over his chest, head hung down into hell, and occasionally begrudging himself aloud.

“I think you deserve someone better than me. Someone who can protect you… You’ve already-“

“Julian.” Your tone was cool, flat, low. “Can I have a second?”

He’s not going anywhere; meaning you know you’ll catch him staring at your shop like a lovesick puppy in two days time... Yeah, it’ll be okay if you take a few days away. After all, Julian just broke up with you and is still standing at the edge of the dock, waiting to walk you back. Even if you don’t try to beg him to reconsider right now, he’ll be waiting anxiously for you to do so. It’s mean… But it’s also mean for him to try and break up with you more than twice.

You stand shakily and smooth out your clothes. Your shoulders are slumped, eyes down cast, and lips in a heavy frown. A glance toward the end of the docks shows Julian tensely tapping his foot and fidgeting with anything he can get his hands on.

At the sound of your nearing steps, Julian scrambles to his feet and stares down at you with a pale expression. His lips are parted, anticipating every word that comes out of your mouth. He takes a few deep breaths, but can’t seem to catch his breath, as it’s still trembling out of him and in short bursts.

“I’ll stay at the shop tonight.” A breath — maybe more of a whimper — falls from Julian’s lips as he seems to crumble at your words.

“Wait, Y/n…” You bring your lidded eyes to his, “The… The shop?” His voice sounds tight, hoarse, and his thin eyebrows droop with each word.

“I’m tired…” You quietly say. Tonight, you don’t have the energy to force him to stay, to help him through the fight he’s having in his head. You know it’s wrong. However, your legs are trembling, you can’t breathe, and you want to collapse and cry… You can’t support Julian like this. “I’m just…” You look away, swallow, and shake your head. “I can’t believe this is happening to me again.” Those words barely go above a whisper, you’re not even sure Julian hears them over the waves; you hope he doesn’t. You inhale deeply and swallow the knot blocking your throat.

“I’m sorry Julian.” You breathe out, barely containing your sob. “I love you so much but I just can’t do this right now.” You smack your tears away and bring your eyes to his desperate expression. “I’ll come find you when I’ve had enough time.” You cradle his wet cheek, and thumb away the tears rolling across his sharp cheek bone.

“What do you mean?” His voice is soft as he claps his hand over your own. Your brows pinch.

“Julian I told you I would always be here for you, always help you when you need it…” Are you going back on your word right now? “But this is the third time you’ve said this to me.” Your voice is stern, and he squirms at your tone, at the hard and watery look in your eye.

“Wait-“

“Do you think that you can just break up with me whenever things get hard and I will chase you until you come back to yourself?” Julian’s open mouth searches for the words to say.

“Y/n, wait, please…”

“You do know that it hurts when you do this, right?” Your voice comes out strained and weak. His eyes widen. “Do you think I’m okay when you leave me like this? Do you know how terrible this makes me feel?” You take a step from him but he quickly closes the space again. “When things are hard I am the first thing you throw away. Because I’m the only thing you can throw away? Why do you do it, Julian?“

“That’s not it!” He cries. “I’m not throwing you away!”

“Then what are you doing?” You snap at him. “Every time you do this you’re trying to throw away your guilt. To get rid of it. To get rid of me.” You slap your hand over your chest.

“Me. Who is a constant reminder of that.” You point your finger toward the Lazaret. “It’s because of that isn’t it? Because of my dreams?” He stares at you in silence. “Isn’t it, Julian? Because I remember dying? You feel responsible for my death?” His head falls as he nods slowly.

“What would’ve changed Julian?” You whine to him. His head bolts to look at you again. “Even if I had never met you, I was fated to die. Even if you never knew my name I would’ve died. Would that have been your fault too?”

“I was in charge of the cure—“

“Oh my god!” You laugh bitterly, turning away from him.

“— I was supposed to find the cure, Y/n! And I couldn’t! I couldn’t do my one damn job, and thousands of people paid for that!” His own voice is raised, cracking with tears often, but is strong all the same. “You.. Paid for that.”

“I’m going to the shop.” You sharply snap. “You don’t need to walk me back.”

“It’s danger—“

“Please Julian.” You bring your eyes to his, earnestly begging him with a long look, “I’m going back. Alone.”

And you walk away from Julian for the first time in four years.