#Babies are not collectibles

[coochiequeens]

Well she is. 21 babies in just over a year to be exact.

Kristina has authored a book titled Baby's Diary. News18Join our Whatsapp channel

The feeling of motherhood is a special one and many experience it multiple times, choosing to have more than one child. Kristina Ozturk, the wife of a wealthy Turkish individual, stands out in this regard. Despite being only 26 years old, she has already become the mother of 22 children via surrogacy. Originally from Russia, Kristina, along with her millionaire businessman husband, 57-year old Galip, welcomed 21 surrogate babies into their lives between March 2020 and July 2021. Despite this remarkable number, Kristina expresses her desire for even more children.

Kristina’s eldest child, an eight-year-old daughter named Victoria, was born naturally from a previous relationship. Despite facing criticism for what some perceive as “buying babies,” this mother from Georgia remains steadfast in her decision to expand her family. Kristina has openly expressed her ambition to have even more children, aiming to reach a three-digit figure.

Her plans face challenges as her Turkish businessman husband was imprisoned in 2023 on charges of money laundering and document falsification. Fortunately, Kristina is supported by a team of 16 live-in nannies to assist her while her husband serves an eight-year sentence behind bars.

Kristina first met Galip in a club in Moscow, Russia and started a relationship in spite of the 31 year age difference between them. They started living in a lavish three-story mansion in Batumi, Georgia. In February last year, Kristina had paid Rs 1 crore 43 lakh to the surrogates.

Kristina has also authored a book titled Baby’s Diary, in which she shares her journey as a mother of so many children. She reflects that while much has been written about parenting, every day parents seek valuable insights from her to provide the best for their children.

Kristina’s unconventional path in parenting hasn’t been without challenges. She revealed an incident where one of the surrogate mothers expressed a desire to keep a baby after giving birth. As the baby’s genetic makeup consisted of Kristina and her husband’s DNA, the child rightfully belonged to them.

Although Kristina has openly discussed her aspiration for at least 105 children, she now intends to hold off on further steps toward that goal until her existing children are older. While she hasn’t dismissed the possibility of becoming pregnant herself again, she acknowledges the impracticality of doing so with a household full of young children.

[ruubesz-draws]

Showing off the babies

(I watched Ultraman Rising! It was good!)

Bonus:

From this

[shiny-eyed-corvid]

NYC street finds 3.27.24-3.31.24

favorites from this round: baby calico critter, spiky red creature my partner found for me, cat butt pin, fancy hairpin, and an angel/devil hello kitty croc charm ✨🐦‍⬛

[broh3m3]

Kalim's tsum vignette was fun (I lost my mind multiple times)

[peachesofteal]

Simon Riley who’s not well adjusted and sticks his thick fingers in your mouth whenever he wants.

He pinches your cheeks together too. Holds the fat tight enough it stings. Enjoys the way your eyes dart around the pub, watching everyone watch you, their concern and curiosity shrinking away when he glares at them.

Ignores Johnny when he hisses to let ‘er go, murmuring that he’s making a scene, and “ye’re gonna get us kicked out again LT.” He holds your pretty face in his fist and smiles as you start to squirm.

Though pinching your cheeks is nothing like sticking his fingers in your mouth.

He’ll grip your chin on the train and press his thumb to the tip of your tongue, forcing it against porcelain teeth. Tips as sharp as razor clams, he scrapes the gnarled edge of his fingernail across their jagged tops, before returning to depress the flat of your tongue until your eyes go wide. Can’t swallow? Can’t breathe. Problem, pet?

He likes the way your teeth shine. Oyster shells iridescent in the sparkling sun of a beach, shucked and shattered, punished by the force of the surf, or the prying strike of a predator. No one shell is alike, millions of spirals and patterns, scotch bonnets and scallops, cockles and cowries, all lining the shore, but you’re the one he sifted through sand to find. His nautilus shell. A perfect spiral, a Fibonacci sequence, the sum of his life and his choices, all here in his hand. One day, he’ll pluck a pearl from behind your teeth, one harvested for him, built from the swirl of brackish water, salt soaked crystals rolled across a seabed until they took shape, a thing, a beautiful thing, made of you, made of him.

He’s fed them to you before. Oysters. Cracked their hinges with his own fists and slipped them down your throat, sea salt and sweet, he couldn’t help but lick inside your mouth after each one, shoving into cracks and crannies, zest of a lemon still tart on your tongue.

You bit him once. The ocean is a tempest, a reflection of yourself, violence humming in a swell only Poseidon could soothe. He gentled your wild tides after that, taught you the stark difference between good behavior and bad, smart choices and reckless ones.

You’re a good girl. You learned.

His fingers find the velvet catch of your cheek too often, and though his cock prefers the back of your throat, the thrashing, vibrating squeeze of your swallows, he likes to tuck into the silk beside your molars. Pretty pockets of a conch shell, protecting a panacea, one made only for him, for his scars.

He drifts there, carried on ocean currents too strong to be stopped when he splits you open on his cock, when he sits you on his lap, when he sates your hunger by his own hand. He insists, even in the pubs, on feeding you bite after bite, thumb and forefinger grazing the roof of your mouth, spongy flesh begging him to press so hard his thumbprint sears to your skin.

At night, he finds your mouth on instinct. Slips right between your teeth and floats away on a twilight tide, like the sea singing a baby to sleep.

[hinamie]

u should think of tiny megu. To keep the stress at bay. You should draw him actually. Ooooo you wanna draw tiny megu getting the love he deserves so bad /j

he's with his 2 best friends

[ex-n1hilo]

the village nannies :]

[body-of-crisis]

who cares what happens now

just keep your hand in mine

[blustarpilot]

Decided to polish up one of the tiny adventures sketches.

Have baby Nari

[krazieka2]

Baby Emblem. Three Babies

[ennas-aesthetic]

If we DO ever get a Good Omens season 3 (and fingers crossed we will) then using the Second Coming as the narrative device to facilitate the final culmination of Good Omens' ideology and message is brilliant, actually.

Because the Second Coming IS NOT another Adam situation. And, contrary to the misconceptions I've seen, It IS NOT about Jesus being born again as a baby, etc, etc.

THE SECOND COMING. QUITE LITERALLY refers to THE LAST JUDGMENT.

As in. The SAME Last Judgment Michelangelo painted on the walls of the Sistine Chapel. As in - THE JUDGMENT of the Living and the Dead. THE LAST, FINAL, ETERNAL JUDGMENT.

It's the WHOLE thing Armageddon was leading towards. Book of Revelation speedrun: the world ends, everyone dies, and then they get resurrected again to be judged by JESUS himself. He will flick through the Book of Life (WINK WINK WINK DO YOU SEE HOW LOUDLY I'M WINKING AT YOU???), and if your name is there he will go "oh nice you deserve eternal paradise! :D" and if your name is ERASED from the Book of Life he will go "oh no, sorry, you go to the lake of fire for eternity now D:" (except apparently in Good Omens lore it'd just DOOM YOU TO NON-EXISTENCE FOREVER???)

And if you THINK about it, The Last Judgment is the ultimate manifestation of moral absolutism. No shades of gray, no chances. Just BLACK, and WHITE. Never mind that you're like Wee Morag and Elspeth, who are forced to do "bad" things because of circumstances. It's either you pass Judgment Day, or you burn (or disappear forever.) And the way THINGS are going in the Good Omens universe? I don't think there's ANYONE "good" enough to be "saved." Not Crowley, not Aziraphale. Hell, not even the Archangels themselves.

So it provides a PERFECT opportunity for Aziraphale and Crowley to UPEND that SYSTEM entirely.

I think that's what Crowley and Aziraphale would do in s3: establish a new kind of system in which angels and demons have free will to determine the right (or wrong) choice.

Giving them the APPLE, so to speak.

And then they'll go off to retire in a cottage, together at last.

[biscuitsroom]

batty beanie babies, he’s my favourite beanie!

[hyperboleigh91]

For reference:

[title]

Barbara Stanwyck as Lily Powers Baby Face (1933), directed by Alfred E. Green

[ficandkaboodle]

Take the fanon interpretation of Primo as a parentified but well-meaning older brother trying his best; and the canon of Primo being fucking off the rails and messing with dark magic for shits and giggles; and you'll have Primo putting an eight-year-old Terzo in the middle of a pentagram while insisting this is exactly how you cure someone of their chronic hayfever. Now stop moving, if that blood smears then year-round allergies will be the least of our problems --

[goddess47]

For the Oldsters around here...

I saw yet another poll/reblog for "if you're over 30"... pish. I have shoes that are over 30! (Like, I never wear them but, well, they're nice shoes!)

So this is for the oldsters that I know are on Tumblr.

All the usual blah-blah... reblog, tag, etc...