clocking into my shift at the penis factory. i mean the chip factory.
noise dept.
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cherry valley forever
"I'm Dorothy Gale from Kansas"
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Monterey Bay Aquarium
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#extradirty
Jules of Nature

η₯ζ₯ / Permanent Vacation
AnasAbdin
Today's Document
let's talk about Bridgerton tea, my ask is open

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Game of Thrones Daily

Love Begins

Janaina Medeiros
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Sweet Seals For You, Always

PR's Tumblrdome

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@kustar-ryumi
clocking into my shift at the penis factory. i mean the chip factory.
btw Iβm making a Dispatch self-insert (MILLIPEDE MILLEPEDE MILLIPEDE MILLIP). i need to kiss Waterboy + my friends and I BADLY want to form a rival team to Z-Team within SDN. clawing at my walls.
Another Flambae yumeship commission :)) for pink_ghost_face on instagram
thumnails + reference under cut
yumeship comm for one of my bestest buddies @lunarbiite :) all of my flambae drawings so far had been dedicated to him LMAOO. (Ordered: half-body and flats)
black/white (manga??) version under cut
Please help my family π
I am Mohammed from Gaza, 28 years old, and I live with my father and bro⦠Rachel Cañas needs your support for A Family's Plea for Survival a
Vetted by Gazavetters
β οΈVetted by @gazavetters, my number verified on the list is ( #682 )β οΈ
Hello my friends, I truly thank you for your great support.
But I urgently need your help.
My wife is pregnant and needs many vitamins.
I have also become in debt to many people because of the difficult economic situation.
I started a small project so I could rely on myself, but it will fail if you donβt help me. There are not enough food supplies available.
I take care of my elderly mother and father.
Please try to help me.
No matter how small your donation is, it will help me provide a decent life for my family.
you know what that means
original art by @kustar-ryumi
π¬ 0Β Β π 345Β Β β€οΈ 1159Β Β·Β wdym u canβt read his mind bro (og comic by flashcs5 π«°πΌπ§πΌββοΈ)
sergeant wilson voiced by @jakvox
Columbo would start off a sentence like this right after, or before, insisting the suspect to refer to him as just βLieutenantβ to fuck with em
columbo: a stitch in crime
gotta worm my way through this, guys
Columbo drawings
rate the fit
happy yuri day to specifically this doomed and toxic duo
this is who youβre being mean to btw
some stuff i was able to pump out recently :) hopefully i get more motivation to make more stuffπͺπΌ π§πΌββοΈ
columbo and colambo
Been feeding baby goats that a mama rejected, and having Jonathan and Martha Kent thoughts.
Jon and Martha find the Kryptonian ship in their corn field, but when they open it the baby is not well. Heβs traveled light years, and even at the fastest speeds, it was days or even weeks. What fluid was sustaining him has been gone for some time.
They work a farm. They know what a sick baby looks like.
They take the baby inside anyway. Itβs far too late for anything to be open, so they break out the milk replacer for the livestock. The bottle they find has had a goat kid sucking on it, but they wash it good, because what other choice do they have?
The baby doesnβt take to the bottle well. He barely eats.
They both know a lack of appetite is a death knell.
βI canβt watch a baby die,β Martha says. Sheβs done it before. She and Jon struggled to have kids. The closest they got β well. Itβs a hard memory for them both.
βI know, love.β Jonβs a good old country boy. He grew up being told itβs a manβs job to take the burden. Heβll take it now. βGo to bed. Iβll stay with him.β
Sure, they both know Martha wonβt sleep, but at least she wonβt have to see.
Jon takes the wee babe out onto the porch. He tries to poke more milk down him. Rubs his chest, bounces him, pushes the bottle past his lips, every damn thing he can do. The hours are long and hard, but he would never forgive himself if he didnβt try.
The baby continues to fade.
The eastern sky starts to lighten.
βIβm sorry, little fellow,β Jonathan whispers. Itβs not long now. He can feel it in his bones. Heβs held plenty of animals as they died. Heβs waiting for that long last exhale. βSorry you came all this way and this is your welcome. Canβt even enjoy the sunrise.β
He told himself he wouldnβt cry until the boy was gone. Wasnβt fair, that his last moments would be a man crying instead of comforting him, but Jon does his best to do both at the same time. He cradles the poor little thing even as his shoulders shake.
The sun breaks over the horizon, and light floods the porch. Jon closes his eyes against it and his tears.
Itβs a hiccup that is the first sign something changed. Then the wiggling.
Jon nearly drops the baby in shock.
When he looks down, the little boy sure hasnβt died. Heβs got this rosy little glow to his cheeks and his eyes are bright. Heβs throwing those little hands around like heβs trying to figure out how they work, but he seems to be trying to reach for the sun.
Jon just stares at him until the baby gets frustrated enough with his clumsy limbs that he opens his mouth to tell the world about it.
The babyβs cry is so powerful Jon falls right out of his rocker. Itβs a miracle he doesnβt launch the poor thing.
Only thing he can think to do with a screaming baby thatβs about to take his eardrums out is shove that bottle right in that open mouth.
The little boy shuts right up and clings to the bottle for dear life as he drinks with a fury.
When Martha comes stumbling out wild-eyed in her jammies, Jonβs sitting on the porch with a grin as bright as the dawn despite the fact his ears are still ringing.
βTurns out he has a good set of lungs.β