#licanthropic

They’re small, thin lines across Remus’s hands and forearms, visible only when his sleeves slip up or when he’s changing in the dormitory. Sirius assumes at first they’re from something mundane, maybe a broom crash or Quidditch mishap.

But Remus doesn’t play Quidditch. And when Sirius casually asks,

“What happened there, Rem’s?”

📝 : a mutual whose headcanons you always look out for

🏆 : a blog that deserves more recognition

🔥 : a blog that inspires your creativity

😭 : someone whose writing always hits you emotionally

@brightreporterwithapointofview wants some positivity // accepting

📝 : a mutual whose headcanons you always look out for

@serafinomostro They just... get it, y'know. John has such a well-rounded, deep understanding of Armand, and this has been driven home by not only our discussions but also their headcanon posts. Reading their thoughts on Armand has been exquisite because they not only have me nodding along, but also reassessing my own notions about him. So often when we talk, I'll go 'wait.... hold on' and end up really having to think about what they just said. Seeing them on dash always has me eye zooming because I know I'm in for Good Fucking Content. Very happy that they decided to make the leap from Twitter and join us degenerates on Tumblr. Such an insightful mun who has put a lot of intelligent thought and care into Armand, who I would consider one of the harder Rice characters to grasp.

🏆 : a blog that deserves more recognition

@licanthropic Earthie has been such a wonderful addition to my dash. It can be hard to pick up an OC of any kind, much less a female one set in the supernatural world (werewolf oc), but I think they are doing such a splendid job fleshing her out. You can tell they're very passionate about Bianca and have put thought and care into her. I love seeing Earthie muse about Bianca, post little headcanons, and plot with the assorted spoopy universes. Very excited to write with them and get to know them as a mun <3

🔥 : a blog that inspires your creativity

@solilacquist - Sam is a rare writer. Their creativity comes in so many different forms, to be honest. They write Louis masterfully and have a very vivid way of bringing him to life. But they're also very creative when it comes to threads. The "yes and..." way of writing is a bit of a lost art in the RPC. Most muns prefer plotting, and while Sam IS wonderful to plot with, they're also one of those rare people who can improvise threads. Writing with them is so fun. It has me firing on all four cylinders because I know I can leave them little crumbs, they'll pick them up, and throw them right back at me. They've easily become one of my favourite partners because of how creative they are.

😭 : someone whose writing always hits you emotionally

@licanthropic

He wants to say something about how Bianca cannot kill something that’s already dead, but that doesn’t feel like it’ll be very helpful. So instead he nods his head, and he wipes some more at the cut on his face. It wasn’t the ghost that had done that, but the fact that they had shoved him over.

(That does make it the ghost’s fault, but Forrest cannot help but feel like that removes some of the fault. Whatever. It’s a stupid distinction.)

he resents her , though he would never say so. the most monstrous parts of her her come and go with the full moon , her skin knowing the touch of the sun , while he must stew in the darkness of night , a demon who will not be exorcised. moving from dubai to new orleans and now landing on his travels in the upstate new york boondocks , he's sure come a long way from storyville. pocketing the keys to his rented mercedes , he stands expectantly at bianca's door. " i hope you don't mind , it's so hard to find good lodgings in the middle of fuckin' nowhere. "

𝓝ew  York  City  was  always  …  a  treat,  to  say  the  least.  It  had  pits  of  lawlessness  and  sin,  hidden  like  a  secret  beneath  the  shining  monuments  to  wealth  and  excess.  The  real  American  dream.  It  fascinated  him,  in  the  same  way  the  busy  streams  of  people  rushing  past  the  window  of  the  diner  did.  The  smeared  panes  of  glass  acted  like  a  barrier  between  here  and  the  rest  of  the  world.  In  here,  forks  and  knives  scraped  indelicately  against  heated  ceramic  plates,  filling  the  room  with  the  sound  between  bites  of  greasy,  fat  food.  As  human  as  it  all  seemed,  there  was  something   …  inhuman  lurking  around  the  edges  of  the  room.  Dressed  in  uniform,  serving  slop,  pretending  to  be  like  the  rest  of  them.  She  was,  admittedly,  far  more  interesting  that  anything  else  he  had  witnessed  thus  far.  When  she  passed  by  the  table,  he  lifted  his  hand  as  if  to  snag  her  attention  out  of  thin  air.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ❛  Excuse  me  —  can  I  have  a  cup  of  coffee?  ❜