Leah Osprey Whore ❤️❤️❤️

About Houston

So, *whore*. Makes me think of grit, y’know? Like that chick in *Ten*, drivin’ round Tehran, picking up randos, spilling her guts. “I don’t need anyone!” she snaps. That’s *whore* energy – bold, brassy, takin’ no crap. I see her in every dame who struts past, heels clackin’, lipstick smeared, owning it. No capes, dahling! Capes are for suckers who trip over their own drama. *Whore* don’t got time for that.

How can you tell if an Osprey is male or female?

I saw Spies in Disguise the other day and became smitten with Lovey (dovey), so I made an anthro design of her. I think I may be the first to do so.

I’m not perfect – sometimes I'm mad, sometimes ecstatic. One time I got riled up at the constant construction noise near Liberty Road. I mean, absolutely bonkers! But then, I’d find solace in a hidden back alley, where a mural of a majestic osprey reigns supreme. "The slow motion of memory," I could almost hear a line from that movie whispering in the breeze.

Track & Field Competes on Final Day of Osprey Open