#test .

[daelupyre]

* help me test this brat pls

[misdoctorate]

[calebreyland-blog]

sb :   anyone   ever   tell   you   you   look   a   little   like   stanley   uris  ? caleb :   um ,   no  .   people   usually   tell   me   i   look   a   lot   like   caleb   reyland  . sb :   who   the   fuck   is   tha- caleb :   ME ,   bitch ,

[2drive]

[watergals]

find test muses bellow ! i'd like to write them, so do like this for a little starter/plot pls <3 (human verses always available!)

michael "mickey" banton. 24. mutant. he/him. pansexual . joel oulette.

adopted and raised by a loving white family since he was few months old. can mimic others' powers to perfection and he isn't sure if it's a good superpower or a very bad one. loooves ocean and anything related to it and is currently studying to be a marine biologist. friendly and easy going most of the time. has been trying to find his biological parents and get to know his roots in an on-and-off style for several years. his whole life is just self-discovery.

sam rivera. forever 23. werewolf. they/sometimes he. pansexual. jenna ortega (in death of a unicorn esp).

their great-grandfather had created a pharmaceutical company that made millions within just a year of its creation. the rivera family has been living like royalty ever since, though constantly pay the price in their private lives. sam is no different. they have been a sickly child in and out of hospital their whole life, battling with heart disorder and later in their teenage years, gender dysmorphia. when they are 23, his whole immediate family (parents, siblings) are killed and sam is turned into a werewolf. and honestly, their life has been better than ever. spoiled little thing.

[bcttlecries]

testing.

[maligns]

starter       ʕ •ᴥ•ʔ♡     @fodlansbestmom​ id.  :  jeritza von hyrm

he does not like to address her by name.  names impart expectation, and in the anonymity of the dark he’d rather they both be free of it.  he speaks from experience : god and human alike , they are the same when pressed down in the dirt ,  bruised & bloodied & dead ;  desperate monsters cut from the same , savage cloth .

along that vein ,  he finds fucking a lot like fighting .  closing his eyes ,  he swears he smells the ichor of dirt and copper sweat slick on his tongue. it rises off him like a stink : the rabid cur he is .  he presses close, in a snarl or wordless threat before lunging, teeth sinking into jugular as a circle of chitin , drawing forth a gold sheen . digits run across her body in a ravage  --  rough , unhesitant touches that seek to mold & conquer. palms cup her chest for leverage, hips driving forward to rut at her cunt, the earthy scent of their arousals rising.

" you do not fight me. " he says, a halting observation verging displeasure. he has no illusions about himself ; if she allows, he’ll take everything she offers and some more.