Oh Worm?

Calling all Les Mis content creators! (Including but not limited to traditional artists, digital artists, writers, cosplayers, mood-boardists, podcasters, glass blowers and pottery enthusiasts.)

The above list is a Les-Mis specific alternative to Inktober this year (courtesy of the recent controversy and me not wanting to engage with any avoidable drama where possible). Huge thanks to everyone that sent prompts in! 

Please see below the cut for the basic breakdown of how to participate!

Keep reading

hey @sushi-sheep

date a dork who unexpectedly barges into your room in the middle of christmas break just to give you a sweater that matches with theirs

this was for a school project yes

so i've been playing sky for the past 2-3 weeks now and i really wanted to draw these two

weather as types of people

Wind: Nomadic people are those who love wind. They are born of change and circumstance. Their worst enemy is the jailor of restriction. Seldom seen with restricting clothes, they like to move as they please. Messages pass their hands many times a day, and they love to be the bearer of news: whether good or bad, gossip or fun. They are desert people: hearts of sand and time, ever changing, always different. They are late-night pitstop people: gas station spirits and moonlight souls. People of change, people of destiny, people of drive.

Rain: Gentle souls. Instead of being in constant state of growth like most people, they are in a constant state of settling into themselves. Their presence is a calming one, even if they are not calm within themselves. They create effortlessly, ideas always flowing from them when they are present. When ideas are not present, the drought comes: not a drought of dehydration, but a drought of inspiration. When this drought comes, the people of rain have nothing to offer. All creativity is gone, all motive is lost. That is, until it rains again. A mysterious people, are those made of rain.

Thunder: Thunderous people can often be too loud, too much, and too frightening to those who do not understand them. Their anger holds the power of the earth, and heaven forbid you should see one cry. While they may shout and laugh, and be the greatest presence in the room, their loudness does not reflect who they are. Stormy emotion is their way to be heard, even if it isn’t the way they are best understood. You do not know a person of thunder, until you have studied while one slept next to you, or watched from a distance as they created something. You can hold no judgement to their stormy hearts until you take the time to know one. And should you manage to befriend one, you will find a strange sense of ancientness in their mannerisms. In the way they look off into the distance when they think nobody is watching, in how their art reflects people and places that no longer exist, in how they breathe so steadily beside you, as if they are meant to live forever.

Hail: Just like that embarrassing thing that happened to you in second grade, just like a memory that fills you with nostalgia at odd hours of the night, so hail people only appear in the moments before you fall asleep. They are beautiful in person, yes, but it is not until you have a time to ponder their beauty that you begin to see how incredible they truly are. Buffeted by wind, thrust up into the sky over and over again, their hearts have hardened to ice. But ice can melt; that is apparent with people of this kind. Give them a warm touch, and a kind eye. They will melt, and it will be beautiful.

Snow: Falling slowly, falling beautifully. People of snow are quiet and sad, but there is beauty in it. They drift downward, decorating the world with beauty as they go. You don’t see them much, since they’re quiet and rarely around. But it isn’t until they go missing that you realize how much they’ve impacted your life. They have an odd habit of making everything seem alright. When they speak, it is as if all the world is silent around them. You can never quite describe it, but they have a gentle peace about them: as if they know they are quickly failing, and are content with darkness that will approach. I’m sorry if you’ve ever held one’s hand, because there is no falling out of love with them. I’m sorry if you’ve ever heard one sing, because their music will never stop ringing in your ears. They are quiet. They are beautiful. They impact you in small ways, until everything you’re made up of seems to hold a piece of them.

Currently working on a shawl of some kind hmm

Being-A-Creative-On-Tumblr-Culture is going through all of the 24 reblogs on your post with 357 notes just to get just enough serotonin to get through your day by reading what the five god sent people who left tags wrote

Eliza as a manananggal :^DD Also redraw of something I made a long time ago bc wynaut

Don’t you leave him Samwise Gamgee

comes back from the grave just for barricade day (it is in my timezone at least)

i didn't prepare anything for it, unfortunately, so have a little grantaire doodle i just did