#feather flores

[andiree]

GUYS, the cover for Ready or Not was just revealed by SimonTeen! 🤗 I’ve been sitting on this for what feels like millennia, and I’m so excited to finally get to share it with you 💞 And I miiiight be biased, but this is my fave cover yet. It’s really really wild seeing my name up there. TY to Karyn Lee for the direction, my color balancing queen 👑 Pre-order yours today, tell your friends, tell your mom, tell the rando on the subway 🗣️ And read more about Ready or Not and other upcoming titles of Summer 2024 here!

[roesolo]

Season's Reading! Christmas Books for littles!

Season's Reading! Christmas Books for littles! @chroniclekids @schifferkids

All the Things Santa Claus Will Never Do, by Ronan Badel/Illustrated by Noé Carlain, (Nov. 2021, Schiffer Books), $14.99, ISBN: 9780764362170 Ages 4-7 I have been holding onto this book for a full year! I received it while I was out sick last year (thanks, COVID), but had so much fun reading it that I wanted to make sure I gave it some love. All the Things Santa Claus Will Never Do is a…

[exhalefroy]

heyooo missing froy rn :(

[zooone]

is the part two of “as above so below” being worked on? I WAS SO HOOKED!! I WAS GENUINELY SEARCHING FAR AND WIDE FOR PART TWO.

WAHHHHH IM SORRYYYYY 😓😓😓 it is being worked on but like genuinely actually both me and flore cant think of how to end the story without just being like "they worked out their differences and got together or wtv :p" its so awfullll im so sorryyy 😓 i will continue thinking i promise!!! i just want to have the best work i can produce rather than the fastest if that makes sense.

[monster-disaster]

[owlman] Mr. Harkins

owlman!Mr. Harkins x human!Reader Good to know: no smut, just a bit of a dom x sub thing, humiliation and spanking

Summary: The librarian has to punish you when you are late again.

"Miss Flores, you are late again," Mr. Harkins's stern voice welcomes you the moment you enter the library. A grimace pulls on your face as you find the male at his desk, not even looking up from the screen of the computer. The bright light follows the curve of his beak and reflects on his round glasses in front of his wide golden eyes. "I apologize, Mr. Harkins," you reply. Your voice is thin and quiet. "I didn't have time…" you start as you approach him. Your steps seem loud in the quiet room. "I don't have time for your excuses," he cuts in before you can continue your explanation. "If you can't follow the rules, you can go and buy the books instead of borrowing them." You don't even dare to reply as you grab the books from your bag and put them on the old wooden table in front of the owl. They are heavy and thick in your hands. "Did I make myself clear, Miss Flores?" Mr. Harkins asks, looking up at you from his seat. "Yes, Mr. Harkins," you nod, clearing your throat when you feel it tightening. "I will do better next time," you promise. He rolls his eyes. "I heard it before, Miss. I don't need your empty promises. I need you to bring back the books in time." "Yes, Mr. Harkins," you reply. "Now, go," he says, motioning to the long row of bookshelves behind you. "I don't want to see you." "Yes, Mr. Harkins," you repeat yourself, almost whispering.

Your friendship with the owl started well enough when you moved to the city two years ago. He was happy for the new face and welcomed you to Meriad with open wings and several suggestions about which books you should read when he heard about your preferences. He was respectful and kind. Then, your job began to be too demanding, and you started getting late with bringing back the books you borrowed. He was patient and understanding at first, but his demeanor changed for the worse every time you were late. Before you knew it, the male you thought was a new friend looked at you like you were his biggest enemy.

It was too late, though.

You were madly and deeply in love with him by the time, he started hating you.

That's why it hurts so much when you are late with his precious books. You hate to disappoint him. You want him to be kind and nice to you again, even though his anger and sternness always do things to you, no matter how much you try to deny it.

Wanting to get away from him as fast as possible, you quickly disappear behind the bookshelves. They tower over you easily, hiding you from his dark gaze and the burning of his attention on the back of your head.

You need long minutes to calm yourself down and start to focus on the books around you. 

The familiar scent of the old building and papers fills your nostrils as you wander through the long rows. Your fingers caress over the spine of the books as you read the titles.

The orange glow of the setting sun filters into the library through the tinted windows. They illuminate the tall walls and glint on the chandeliers hanging off the painted ceiling.

The library is quiet and calm. You can hear someone moving around from time to time, but you don't pay attention to them. You focus on the books, picking one or two up every now and again to get to know more before deciding to keep it or put it back. By the time you are done, your arms hurt under their weight.

"Great," you grunt under your breath, pushing down your anxiety because of the fact that you have to face the angry owl again.

Well, if you are lucky, his co-worker…

But no.

Mr. Harkins already stares at you with a scowl on his feather-covered face when you appear from behind the shelves. The golden of his eyes seems vivid and liquid in contrast with the whites and browns of his feathers. The yellowish color of his hands at the end of his wings matches with the shade of his beak. His black claws are short and blunt.

"No," he breaks the silence as you drop your collection on his table with a quiet thud.

Your brows lift in surprise. "What?"

"If you borrow so many books, you will be late again."

"I won't," you tell him, feeling like a child under his stern, scolding gaze.

"Don't lie to me, Miss Flores."

"The policy says one can't borrow more than ten books," you tell him. You shouldn't be brave enough to talk back, but him not letting you take as many books with you as you want almost feels humiliating. "It's only eight," you add, pointing at the pile between you and the angry bird.

"One last time," he grunts.

The few minutes while he takes care of the books and you put them away are silent, tense, and awkward. Shame and guilt burn your cheeks because of your argument. You are sure he has to force himself not to ban you from the library, and you are not sure what stops him.

"Thank you, Mr. Harkins," you break the silence, adjusting the straps of your bag on your shoulder as you make your way to the exit. "Have a good night."

"Miss Flores," he calls after you. "If you are late again, you will be punished."

Hearing his warning, your lips open with shock, but no words come out as the door closes behind you.

-

After you called the library for an extra two weeks and Mr. Harkins's co-worker was the one who answered the phone, you thought you were safe. Two weeks should be enough for a book that is barely longer than two hundred pages. In other circumstances, it would have been enough if not for your job. The hospital changed your shifts at the last minute, and after working long hours at night, you were too tired to read at daylight.

You should have returned the books two weeks ago.

Two weeks.

Mr. Harkins will ban you from the library; you are sure of it. You have two weeks to accept the fact that you will have to go to the other side of the city if you want to read without leaving a fortune in the bookshops.

But facing the owlman? Yeah, your stomach turns with anxiety when you think about it.

You sit at the table in your small kitchen. The books are in front of you in a pile as you stare at them accusingly as if your being in trouble is their fault.

What if you don't take them back? What is the worst that can happen? Maybe you have to pay some fine. And you can never go even near the library again, afraid you will meet Mr. Harkins. But with your luck, you will meet him somewhere else. And he will tear your head off in the middle of the street in front of everyone.

"Shit," you groan, holding your head in both of your hands as you lean onto the table with your elbows. You want to say more, but the ringing of your phone doesn't let you. The familiar sound fills the small flat.

"Yes?" You answer without looking at the screen. It's probably the hospital, anyway.

"Miss Flores?" You can feel your blood freezing in your veins at the sullen voice. "The books, Miss Flores."

"Yes," you gasp. "I will return them today."

"After the library is closed."

You frown. "What? Why?"

"Am I clear, Miss Flores?"

You gulp, fidgeting. "Yes, Mr. Harkins."

"Good," he grunts. "I will wait for you."

Okay. What is the worst that Mr. Harkins can do to you? Ban you? You already accepted the idea. Maybe he will make you clean up the library or help with the books. He can't do that, but you wouldn't be brave enough to say no if he asked.

You spend the whole day with rocks in your stomach. You try to calm yourself and be careless about it, but you can't lie to yourself. You are in trouble.

By the time the library closes, you are in front of the building, trying to gather your courage to make yourself enter.

The sun is already setting. The lights reflect on the buildings around you, gliding across the windows. The library's tinted glasses glint under the orange glow. The traffic behind you on the road is still busy and loud. The sound of honks and the rumble of engines echo off the tall walls, vibrating in the autumn breeze. You have to step and move every now and again so you are not in the way of anyone who has better things to do than stand in front of the library. You reach the entrance door like this, with quiet apologies and smiles.

When you finally enter, the library is even more silent than usual, and the desk not far from the entrance is empty.

This is your chance, you think with a sharp inhale. You put the books down, leave, and never come back.

"Miss Flores, you come." Mr. Harkins's voice mixes with the quiet thud of the books as they land on the hard surface of the desk.

Your heart stops beating for long seconds.

"Yes," you squeak out. "As you wanted, Mr. Harkins."

"See? You can be a good girl, Miss Flores if you want to."

You are sure he can hear the change in your breathing when he calls you a good girl. Anxiety and excitement rush over your body, going straight between your legs.

"I will go now," you tell him, still not having enough courage to turn and look at him. "I still have things to do and…"

"Not so fast, Miss Flores," he says, stopping you before you can move even an inch. "I still have to punish you."

At his words, you turn to him. "Mr. Harkins, I-"

"Turn back," he commands, and you can't help but scowl at him. He wears his usual three-piece suit. The brown shades of the fabric match his feathers. His round glasses rest on the base of his beak.

"Turn. Back," he repeats himself. "Before I make your punishment worse."

You do as he says.

"Take off your pants." His next demand makes you freeze and burn at the same time. Your cheeks heat up as you feel his waiting gaze on your back.

"Mr. Harkins-"

"Do I have to tell you everything twice, Miss Flores?"

"No, Mr. Harkins," you reply, unbuttoning your jeans to push them down to your knees.

"All the way," he says. "I want you to spread your legs."

Fuck.

Even though you feel humiliated, your pussy thinks otherwise. You are already wet and aching.

"What if someone sees?" You ask quietly.

"It's just us, little girl," he says. "You don't have to worry."

You nod, keeping your mouth shut. His gaze is heavy on the curve of your bottom even though you still wear your panties. You are curious if he can see the wet patch on the fabric or if you are not that soaked yet.

"Now bend over and spread your legs." He is getting closer.

Pushing away the books from the way, you follow his command once again. You want to know what happens next.

"Good girl," he hums, and your pussy throbs at his praise. Yeah, you want to be his good girl. You imagined the librarian so many times but never quite like this.

"Push out your ass," he says from above you. Your insides twitch at his closeness.

Fuck.

His hand lands on the small of your back. His touch is warm and slow as his hold slips down to your bottom. He grabs the flesh there, squeezing and groping you. His claws still feel sharp even though you know they are blunt.

"I will spank you," the owlman states.

His fingers slip under the waist of your panties, pulling down the fabric until it stretches around your knees. The library's air feels cold on your heated skin.

"How many days ago you should have brought back the books?" Mr. Harkins asks.

"Fourteen days ago," you squeak out. Your cheek is pressed against the wooden surface of the desk. Your hands are next to your head in small fists.

"Uh-uh," he disagrees. "Before that, you asked for two more weeks."

You gasp and almost stand up, but the owlman's other hand stops you from doing that. "That's too much," you tell him.

"It is," he agrees with a sigh. He sounds amused. "Let's stay at fourteen, but you have to count them loudly, and I will add one more every time I don't hear you."

"Yes, sir," you reply.

His chuckle is satisfied as he smooths down on your ass cheeks, warming up the skin for what happens next.

"Good girl," he says. "Now, count."

The first slap comes suddenly and powerfully. Your whole body jerks and jumps at the pain that strikes through your skin.

"One," you cry out.

Another slap. "Two."

Three more. "Three, four, five."

Your bottom burns under his assault. Your flesh jiggles after every loud smack that echoes off the walls.

"You don't know how many times I imagined you like this," he says.

"Six."

"Every time you were late, I wanted to bend you over the desk or my knees and spank that sweet ass of yours until they were red and ripe under my hand."

"Seven."

"At first, when you started coming here, I thought we could be friends, you know? He asks without wanting an answer.

"Eight."

"I thought you were a nice girl who respects the library's and my rules, but no."

"Nine." At this point, your ass is on fire.

"You had to be late every damn time."

"I'm sorry," you cry and gasp. "It wasn't my-"

Smack. Smack.

"Mr. Harkins!"

"You didn't count, bad girl. Add two more."

"No, wait!"

Smack. Smack. Smack.

"Ten. Eleven. Twelve."

Your face is wet from your tears, and your pussy pulses with need. Sobs shake your body as you cry. You hate to disappoint him. Guilt and pain eat you while he still keeps you down on the table. Smack. Smack. You count loudly and hoarsely.

"Two more, sweet girl," he says, caressing the redness of your skin. He is more gentle now, giving you a few seconds to take deep breaths and calm yourself down.

"Two more," he repeats, "and we will be done. Your punishment will be over, and you will be forgiven, alright?

"Yes, sir," you nod, still sobbing.

"Good girl."

Smack.

"Fifteen," you count.

"And one last."

"Sixteen," you gasp, relieved.

"Good girl," he praises you, caressing your burning skin. "I know you can be a good girl if you want to. I'm proud of you."

Every praising word and touch lifts something off your chest that lets you breathe again. The tears stop but your pussy still throbs and aches. The pain Mr. Harkins inflicted on you was nowhere near enough to lessen your desire for the owl.

"You want something else, aren't you?" He asks, amused again. "Your pretty cunt is sopping wet."

His hand glides down to your center. The tip of his finger is rough against the slit of your cunt.

"Mr. H-Harkins," you gasp, pushing yourself against him. "Please."

"Uh-uh," he hums, shaking his head even though you can't see him. His wide eyes shine with hunger and satisfaction. You are wet and slick under his touch. The scent of your arousal is thick and heavy in the air.

"I can't reward you after your punishment, can I?" He chuckles, still playing with your wet folds. The tip of his finger finds your clit every now and again but never stays there for long enough to make you feel good.

"Please," you breathe out, pressing your forehead against the desk. It's cold under your heated, slightly sweaty skin.

"How about this," he says, still exploring your pussy as he talks. "I let you choose three books now, and if you bring them back in time, I will give you a reward you want."

"Okay, sir," you answer. You know you can do nothing but agree.

"Good girl," he hums, leaving your pussy to lean down and take off your panties.

"Mr. Harkins?" You gasp sharply.

"I will keep them," he smirks. "Now go and choose three books, Miss Flores."

Your legs shake as you get up from the desk and make a few tentative steps to the shelves. The skin of your inner thighs is wet and uncomfortable.

Stopping in your tracks, you look back at the male over your shoulder. He is leaning against his desk with his wings over his chest. His golden eyes are sharp and satisfied as he looks over your half-naked body.

"Go on, little girl."

You feel humiliated and excited at the same time again as you wander between the shelves. His eyes are on you the whole time. 

You are not sure where this all will lead you with Mr. Harkins, but you know for a fact that you will return the books in time.

- Masterlist Meriad Masterlist Patreon

[solaneceae]

【 𝙿 𝚁 𝙾 𝙹 𝙴 𝙲 𝚃 : 𝙳 𝚄 𝙲 𝙺 𝙻 𝙸 𝙽 𝙶 】 | a QSMP Baghera playlist 🐤

a narrative playlist retracing her story, from her humble origins to Purgatory.

cover art by @Rion_Riots on twitter

⤵️ tracklist under the cut ⤵️

CHAPTER 1: lab rat

a duckling opens her eyes to white tiles and syringes.

Bumblebees are Out - Jack Stauber

A Bird in a Gilded Cage - Alex Niedt

Body - Mother Mother

rises the moon - liana flores

CHAPTER 2: Duckling and Bluebird

a bond is formed between two birds of a feather.

Rule #4 Fish in a Birdcage - Fish in a Birdcage

Two Birds - Regina Spektor

Evelyn Evelyn - Evelyn Evelyn

Innocence - Madeon

CHAPTER 3: escape!

this little duckling has had enough.

Escapism - Rebecca Sugar

THE KID WHO KEPT RUNNING - Vylet Pony

Shelter - Porter Robinson

We'll Meet Again - The Ink Spots

CHAPTER 4: drifting away

the ocean waves are tall and scary, but she presses on.

Weird Fishes/Arpeggi - Radiohead

Ship in a Bottle - fin

Shackleton - Adam Young

soundscape diary - vylet pony

CHAPTER 5: a new life of music and dirt fountains

she finds new friends. and slowly, she forgets.

Youth - Daughter

Tout Oublier - Angèle

La veriter - KronoMuzik

I Say - Zerator & BagheraJones

CHAPTER 6: [[We Hope You Enjoy The Island :) ]]

you didn't think it would be that easy, did you?)

Fallen Down - Toby Fox

Amnesia was Her Name - Lemon Demon

HEAVEN SAYS. - chart

Clocks - Alex Niedt

CHAPTER 7: binary green and white bears

federation? codes? where am i?

Your Best Friend - Toby Fox

Beware The Friendly Stranger - Boards of Canada

01001010 01000001 01001101 - Red Skies Project

Untrust Us - Crystal Castles

CHAPTER 8: cherished egg

the island has granted me the gift of motherhood.

Daughter - Sleeping at Last

I'm a Survivor - Reba McEntire

Apple Pies and Butterflies - Blue Wednesday

Little Moth - chloe moriondo

CHAPTER 9: petit frère

APLUPLUUUUUU

Anything You Can Do - Bernadette Peters, Tom Wopat

Amor de irmão - Barão Vermelho

Brother - Kodaline

For Forever - Ben Platt

CHAPTER 10: can I call you Bébou?

(gifting furniture is his love language.)

Lemon Boy - Cavetown

Demons Are a Girl's Best Friend - Powerwolf

It's Alright - Mother Mother

Chateau - Angus & Julia Stone

CHAPTER 11: ordo theoritas

call her apollo, because her theories ALWAYS turn out correct.

Cry Babies - cclorox

Touch-Tone Telephone - Lemon Demon

Dream Sweet in Sea Major - Miracle Musical

A Good Song Never Dies - Saint Motel

CHAPTER 12: don't you want to become a leader?

the election arc.

NOW'S YOUR CHANCE TO BE A - Toby Fox

Blood // Water - grandson (first death: whale)

14.3 Billion Years - Outer Wilds (second death: the tower)

Brutus - The Buttress

Animal Farm - BIBI

CHAPTER 13: There is no escape this time.

a childhood bedroom hidden beneath engine steam.

Everything Stays - Rebecca Sugar

715 - CREEKS - The Nor'easter

Memories - The Midnight

Look who's Inside Again - Bo Burnam

CHAPTER 14: "Pomme reviens... les gosses me manquent."

she waits for things to change. she seeks her origins.

Dear Wormwood - The Oh Hellos

CRT Days - Waveshaper

Implanted Memories - Infinity Frequencies

What Was I Made For? - Billie Eilish

CHAPTER 15A: P U R G A T 👁️‍🗨️ R Y part I

i don't want to leave. i can finally be myself, here.

Wonderland - Caravan Palace

Misery Meat - Sodikken

Hayloft II - Mother Mother

Chainsaw Girl - Chainsaw Girl

Family - Mother Mother

CHAPTER 15B: P U R G A T 👁️‍🗨️ R Y part II

adios, bolas. i won't leave without her.

Idioteque - Radiohead

Eat Your Young - Hozier

My Friends - Oh Wonder

Goodbye - Bo Burnham

On the Nature of Daylight - Max Richter

[akitasimblr]

👑ULYSSES HARPER👑

HARPER LEGACY DIARIES | Heir | Generation Four

full name: ulysses harper

nickname: none

life state: sim | elder | married

parentage: isaura harper & rodrigo nunes

partners: ambar flores

offspring: zelda harper | antonio harper | grace harper

aspiration: friend of the animals | bestselling author | archaelogy scholar

main traits: loner | bookworm | dog lover

born in: newcrest

lived in: newcrest | brindleton bay | selvadorada | brindleton bay

career: veterinarian (n/a) | writer career - author branch (creator of worlds - level 10)

degree: dropped out

👑generation milestones illustrated👑

Aspirations: Friend of the Animals, Bestselling Author, Archaeology Scholar

Skills: Archaeology, Pet training, Veterinarian, Writing

Satisfaction Reward Traits: Creative Visionary, Independent, Speed Reader

Collections: Ancient Omiscan Artifacts, Feathers, Fossils

World: Brindleton Bay, Selvadorada

Extra task: Own a vet clinic, and sell it after completing the first aspiration.

Optional: Get a 5 star rating on your vet clinic. Make your pet have at least one litter of kittens/puppies.

EXPLORE MORE START READING THIS GENERATION

*passport template credits

[esuemmanuel]

Líneas de ensueño que se dilatan y contraen al roce de la respiración (de mi respiración que, en algún momento, pensé era tuya)... Trazos subversivos, radicales, superlativos, sustanciales y reacios a las ataduras de la realidad; burbujas de locura, de soltura e ingravidez; latidos perfumados de añoranza y desasosiego; brotes de bondad como flores esparcidas por el suelo, después de una llovizna de soledad; cantos de agua y manantiales de incienso... todos bajo las blancas y tersas plumas de un arcángel enamorado del sol.

Dreamy lines that dilate and contract at the touch of breath (my breath that, at some point, I thought was yours)… Subversive, radical, superlative, substantial and reluctant to the bonds of reality; bubbles of madness, of looseness and weightlessness; perfumed beats of longing and restlessness; buds of goodness like flowers scattered on the ground, after a drizzle of loneliness; songs of water and springs of incense… all under the white and smooth feathers of an archangel in love with the sun.

[zaeliaeve]

ꜰʟᴏʀᴇꜱ [ꜱᴇʀɢɪᴏ ʀᴀᴍᴏꜱ] Chapter 1

DISCLAIMER: this is purely fiction and there are things that will be inaccurate to real life. This is all for fun! I do not speak Spanish so please excuse any mistranslations, I literally just used Google translate haha. Thanks for reading!

2009

There are two things in this world that everyone can agree to hate mutually. The first being twenty three year old Sergio Ramos; the long haired defense player with a loud mouth and short temper seems to rile everyones feathers. Perhaps one of the worst things about him is his immense talent, meaning everyone will just have to put up with him because he knows with his skill, he is not going anywhere.

The second thing this world hates is nepotism, and who wouldn't? Nobody likes the lazy bosses son walking around the office being the nuisance that you can't say anything to just because he hit the family lottery. Nepotism is a direct reminder that life is unfair and favors some more than others.

Catalina Flores didn't feel life favored her most of the time. There was never anything special about her, no dazzling beauty that would get her anything she wanted; nor spectucular social skills that would let her build the friendships she always wanted. All she had ever been seen as was invisible. Catalina's life had been a lonely one and that was no secret to anyone around her.  

Perhaps that's why her father's sister, Maria took pity on her and offered her a job with the team her husband coaches. A photographer for Real Madrid. 

There was a couple of things that made Catalina hesitant to accept the kind gesture.

Number one, too big of a stage at only twenty years old. Photography is something Catalina has and always taken seriously, but to go from doing what she has been compared to one of the biggest football teams in the world is a lot of pressure, rightfully so. Maria assured her that there would be other photographers there and that all the weight didn't land on her shoulders souly. 

Number two, was Catalina even good enough? There is many photos she's proud of, but like anyone around her age she makes mistakes. When she was sixteen she shot her brothers birthday party completely out of focus and the ones there were in focus were totally unflattering. That's something that always creeps back into her brain as she's trying to fall asleep at night. So embarrassing. Her aunt shushes those thoughts as she reminders Catalina of the photography contests she has won in recent years. 

Truthfully, she felt a bit guilty taking the offer but to say no is something she feared would regret. Although football is not something she had ever necessarily cared about, it was a huge opportunity. It's not something she felt truly unqualified for. Why not just see how it goes?

On Catalina's first day it was luckily a bit easier. They were only training, and truthfully only needed shots for their new star player, Cristiano Ronaldo. who brought a lot of good press for the team.

Dark purple circles lay under Catalina's eyes as proof of the sleepless night she had prior, tossing and turning with anxiety of the day to come. The black camera bag strapped around her body felt heavier than usual, blocking the badge her uncle gave as permession to be there. 

The training grounds felt massive and unfamiliar, she couldn't imagine what it felt like to be inside the actual stadium. There was a sweet older lady who showed Catalina the way outside where the players had yet to assemble onto the pitch.

That is when Catalina took the time to prepare her camera, adjusting it to the settings she deemed best as not to repeat her brothers birthday incident all those years ago. One by one each player shuffled out onto the field in their training clothes, all smiles as the sun beamed against their skin.

It was only then Catalina realized how unprepared she was.  I really should have googled their names before this. She made a mental note to study their faces and names tonight. The only one she could point out was Cristiano, who she knew was a big deal for the club. 

Anytime she could catch the Portuguese star flashing his bright teeth or with the lighting just right she made sure to snap an extra picture. There seemed to be one player being rougher than the rest, slapping the back of his teammates heads, or outright tackling them to the floor with a wide smile plastered on his face. 

"Get off of me Sergio! What have you been eating, gordito?" One with large curly hair laughed, slapping at the long haired one's sides.

Sergio. Sergio. Sergio  Catalina repeatedhis name over and over in her head as to not forget it as she captured the duos tussle back and forth on the grass.

It ended with another one coming in plopping on the both of them, causing both of the players to groan in pain. That's when the coach came in and told them finish the task at hand, and they followed orders accordingly but Catalina didn't miss Sergio getting one last smack on the back of the brunettes neck.

Apparently, Cristiano didn't miss it either as he busted out laughing before quickly putting a hand over his mouth to restrain himself.

 Click click click

The team seemed to know when to calm down as for the rest of practice they took their jobs seriously without it being a drag. Of course they still had fun, but not too distractingly.  

One with a buzzcut stopped to smile and wave at her very briefly in the middle of running up and down the field. Catalina's lips upturned as she waved at him back with her free hand, the other gripping the large camera for dear life. 

Click click click

Catalina felt she got pretty good shots of them all, a small weight lifted off of her shoulders. Maybe it wasn't as big of a disaster as she thought. 

The sun was setting so she knew it was almost time to go. The last thing they were doing was shooting balls across to each other in random pairs. As Catalina went to adjust her settings to accommodate the now deep orange sun, there was suddenly loud shouting all at once "cuidado!"

Before she could even process what they were saying, a large round object bounced off of her forehead; the force of it sending her backwards onto the soft grass. Instinctively she held her arm up to make sure her camera didn't fall as hard as she did. 

Many players rushed to the side where Catalina layed on the ground, looking up at the white clouds above. "Are you okay? I'm so sorry! " Number 3 gasped as he leaned over her, blocking her view of the sky. 

Soon, each cloud got blocked by a member of the team's head, faces filled with worry as they looked down to the girl below them. All she could feel was the throbbing of her eye and scalp. "Pepe hijo de puta!" The buzzcut one exclaimed as he hit number 3's shoulder from beside him.

In the dead center of Catalina's vision she seen Sergio with the faintest smirk on his face. It felt like for a split second, time froze and all she could feel was this man laughing at her. Suddenly reality came crashing back to Catalina and she sat up abruptly, almost headbutting Sergio in the process. "I'm fine, it's no worries. You have really great aim, this is good for the team right?" Catalina tried to laugh it off, although her tone was unconvincing.

The curly haired one ruffled her dark locks in a way that commended her for being a good sport. Catalina could feel her face was heating up from not only the pain, but the huge feeling of  embarrassment creeping into her chest. Slowly they backed off, but Pepe stayed and apologized profusely. 

Catalina waved it off with a smile and assured him that she truly was okay. In the background she could hear number 11 running to get something that she would quickly find out is an ice pack.

As she pressed the cool fabric to her eye all she could think about was Sergio's face staring back down at her.

[roesolo]

Take your baby traveling with Feather Flores's new picture book series!

Take your baby traveling with Feather Flores's new picture book series! @featherfully @ChronicleKids @asiadraws @wolfinsheeps

Author and editor Feather Flores is breathing new life into a series of city-based books from Chronicle! Great for touristing families and residents alike, these rhyming looks at popular U.S. cities feature families of color enjoying the sights. Let’s take a look at two of them. Los Angeles, Baby!, by Feather Flores/Illustrated by Asia Ellington, (Aug. 2022, Chronicle Books), $14.99, ISBN:…

[exhalefroy]

kinda sad that froy deactivated his tumblr account :(

[zooone]

Js that if gr! Wilbur had feathers his s/o should help preen them that’s it that’s my tedtalk tysm

flore always asks if gr wilbur has wings and i never know the answer. i didnt write him with wings so i feel like it would be weird if i suddenly did, but the idea of wings has been in my mind bcuz its SUCH a cute idea for things like this!!

just the thought of angel humming while she softly tends to his big ol wings. and hes shuddering a little bit at her touches and she's just "are you okay? is this alright?"

[unnervinglyferal]

i like to believe in karma, the whole "do unto others what you would do unto you, because it will be done unto you". in many south asian religions, karma determines what happens in your next life. there's no hell, just eternal life; if your karma is truly abysmal, you won't even be reborn as a human, while those with excellent karma can escape the cycle of reincarnation. from my perspective, in a lot of ways, it's a lot more cathartic to imagine those who abused us getting reborn as flies and running from the flyswatter for lifetimes upon lifetimes

-flore

I want to be reborn as something completely different. Like a seagull or something. Flying around town, shitting on everything, eating trash every opportunity I have, screaming for no reason, feeling no remorse or regret. Just being a huge evil feathered cunt.

[columbidaecontest]

!!!ROUND!!! 1!!!! POLL!!!! 114!!!

[ID: two photos of green pigeons perched on branches. the Sumba green pigeon has dark red wings. the Flores green pigeon has a blue face]

green feathers lie on the floor. the next contestants step onto the stage. there's no time to rest!

Sumba green pigeon!!!! Flores green pigeon!!!! look at them!!!!

[x-infernhoes-x]

✨💗 JJLNSSS✨💗

Okay so I'm kind of late to the party by at least.....12 days BUT I'll be doing at least 2 in one post bc why not BFHJSBJJH anyways!

01. Have your SI / OC introduce themselves.

Stand User: Eunice 'En' Flores aka Paella Visconti

Born and raised in somewhere in Metro Manila, Philippines, En or more commonly known by the undercover name she had once she had joined Passione as Paella Visconti (often shortened to Ella or Elvis as Mista and Formaggio would call her), she had a relatively normal and quiet life in her hometown where she was raised by her father's parents inside the walls of the very same home her father and his siblings had grown up on. But En knew she was destined for a life that was just more than normal. A natural born stand user, En was initially unaware of her abilities as a stand user and has been subconsciously using its abilities from the start, En’s stand managed to manifest itself physically at the age of 16, triggered by her intense emotions during her days as a junior high student. She first appears after the events of Golden Wind and Purple Haze Feedback, she subsequently crosses paths with the one and only Bruno Bucciarati himself at the age of 21 during a trip to Singapore and ends up working for him as the Capo's personal assistant before getting assigned as the personal bodyguard for Italy’s pop-sensation singer, Trish Una along side with Narancia Ghirga, Guido Mista, and Shiela E. Now a bonafide member of Passione, En is assigned by Don Giorno himself to the newly reinstated La Squadra Esecuzioni, En currently lives in Naples, Italy, with her boyfriend of 3 years, Pannacotta Fugo along with their cats and their roommate, Guido Mista.

Stand Name: Heroes

Heroes, named after the same album and song by David Bowie, is a free-range natural humanoid stand of En Flores who possesses a range of abilities focused on air/weather related abilities. Though she's been with En from the beginning, Heroes makes her first physical appearance to a young En at the age of 16 after the latter had experience a bout of strong emotions, most particularly emotional distress over something that happened during En's time as a Junior High student (which, funnily enough, happens to be En stressing over her History test) and has been with her ever since. Often characterized by her pale silver skin that seemed to remind people of gray clouds and her clothing/armor being various shades of weathered gold, blue, and what seemed to be a curious mix of gold and silver and it was noticeable on how her motif was one of a Valkyrie's with minor hints of a ballerina (judging from the decorative pattern on its boots), a particular female angel digimon from a series called Digimon, and hints of Elizabethan fashion from its feathered collar and overskirt and an overwhelming sense of regal grace and a warrior's fierceness in . Heroes is a stand not to be reckoned with when it comes to battle. Of course, upon closer inspection on the overskirt's details, it was adorned with thin, golden tendrils of pure lightning running actively on its surface.

02. How would your F/O introduce your SI / OC?

Taken from Pannacotta Fugo's personal journal dated sometime around 2020, he describes his first meeting with En during Don Giorno Giovanna's wedding to his wife, Bria (@mrsgiovanna): 'Though I am content with the life I lead now despite not knowing a moment of inner peace, somehow I felt this odd, comforting silence that I can only know when I sleep. I remember how the rest of the gang called me over to meet someone and as my eyes swept over to the person they wanted me to meet, much to my silent indignation knowing fully well this was another ploy of Mista's to set me up with someone, the feeling of tranquility seemed to have grown. Dark brown eyes were the first thing that came into my field of vision and shortly followed by Bucciarati's voice introducing me to the stranger. Eunice was what they called her but Trish, being herself, corrected me that she was called En. I recall fumbling over my words for a moment since I was still in deep in my noiseless reprieve given that the peace I felt was from her. How strange.

But as the night went on, surrounded by faces familiar and unfamiliar, I feel my intrigue grow as our conversation went on and the feeling of indignation was replaced with a sense of comfort and the distant echo of the song that played that night--Jackie and Wilson by Hozier--and for a moment, I knew this meeting with the elusive En would not be our last.'

[catholickedd]

hello!!! um so i had an idea the other day. if you've read my pinned post you know that i'm an aspiring author, and i wanted to practice some short story writing just to get the hang of the setup-payoff cycles. so here's the idea i had - i'm going to write 94 short stories over the next couple of months. one inspired by each song on my spotify playlist. this is going to be the masterpost. here we go

amount completed: 3 of 94

wasteland, baby by hozier - here

autumn by wylder - here

velvet ring by big thief - here

thérèse by maya hawke -

sea, swallow me by cocteau twins -

paint by the paper kites -

sedona by sir chloe -

kyoto by phoebe bridgers -

strawberry blond by mitski -

bloom by the paper kites -

would that i by hozier -

swan upon leda by hozier -

in a week by hozier -

nfwmb by hozier -

fool by frankie cosmos -

evergreen by richy mitch & the coal miners -

candles by daughter -

september by sparky deathcap -

alrighty aphrodite by peach pit -

caroline by lowertown -

jaded by near tears -

poison tree by grouper -

haunt me (x 3) by teen suicide -

the way her hair falls by grouper -

the bug collector by haley heynderickx -

the perfect girl by mareux -

dark beach by pastel ghost -

faerie soiree by melanie martinez -

downtown by majical cloudz -

all your yeahs by beach house -

i don't know by whatever, dad -

gwan by rostam -

the loxian gate by enya -

ophelia by the lumineers -

eat your young (bekon's choral version) by hozier -

francesca by hozier -

no face by haley heynderickx -

rises the moon by liana flores -

washing machine heart by mitski -

all things end by hozier -

through me (the flood) by hozier -

nobody by hozier -

manta rays by chloe moriondo -

unknown / nth by hozier -

like real people do by hozier -

jackie and wilson by hozier -

from eden by hozier -

work song by hozier -

foreigner's god by hozier -

run by hozier -

shrike by hozier -

as it was by hozier -

sunlight by hozier -

dandelion wine by gregory alan isakov -

meet me in the woods by lord huron -

make your own kind of music by cass elliot -

where is my mind by pixies -

pool house by the backseat lovers -

mclean's baby boy by neighbor susan -

space song by beach house -

garden song by phoebe bridgers -

motion sickness by phoebe bridgers -

grandiose by pomme -

je sais pas danser by pomme -

better views by yellow house -

même robe qu'hier by pomme -

ghosting by mother mother -

lent by autoheart -

bron-yr-aur by led zeppelin -

adieu mon homme by pomme -

cause for concern by lovejoy -

willow by taylor swift -

feathered indians by tyler childers -

the last of the honeybees by sam burchfield -

de selby (part 2) by hozier -

the last thing on my mind by tom paxton -

the night we met by lord huron -

ends of the earth by lord huron -

the yawning grave by lord huron -

the moon doesn't mind by lord huron -

sex sells by lovejoy -

perfume by lovejoy -

maine by noah kahan -

white winter hymnal by fleet foxes -

anchor by novo amor -

pale blue eyes by the velvet underground -

i'll be your mirror by the velvet underground -

dinner and diatribes by hozier -

wildflower by beach house -

good old-fashioned lover boy by queen -

bright eyes by art garfunkel -