They Look Like A Married Couple In Therapy

Hex yuri 👭

people will design soap dispensers and dish racks and go like it's okay if this is capable of getting rusty, right. that's an acceptable weak point for an item whose sole immutable destiny is to get wet every time it's used, right

happy holidays @windamp !! i was your secret santa for @souyoweek2020 's 2024 souyo secret santa event! i chose your winter illuminations date prompt because i love christmas lights... i hope you like it!!

What is the best way to financially help Ukraine? Is it better to go through organizations or gofundmes or something else I'm not aware of?

Thanks for asking, nonnie. That's very kind of you. If you or anyone else has some spare change and wants to give, here are a few ideas:

United24 is the official fundraising platform established by President Zelenskyy and other Ukrainian governmental members and directs money to all areas of the country.

The Olena Zelenska Foundation is primarily focused on medical, humanitarian, and educational aid across the country and was founded by the First Lady.

Stand for Ukraine gives you a range of charity options, depending on whether you want to donate directly to the military, or you would prefer to fund non-lethal or humanitarian aid, etc.

Come Back Alive is the main fundraising platform for the Ukrainian military. You can choose to donate to air defense, heavy weapons, demining, medical aid, overall combat equipment, etc.

Donate to Ukraine's Defenders also offers various (carefully vetted) links and options to donate to rebuilding projects, private medical assistance programs, initiatives for democracy, and others.

Israel continues the massacres in Gaza... 232 souls taken in less than an hour! We are dying before your eyes—please, don’t leave us alone! Save us, do something... protest, donate, participate. I don’t want to die!

Greetings children, followers, and friendlys! And welcome to my new account, I have come with a revelation that in order to be able to teach everyone about our Lord, we should expand past just what we see and come to places like this website to spread the good word of the Lord.

†I am Father Jim Defroque, You can call me D-Father or Father Jim.

†I am 48 years old and have been apart of the church my whole life. I have been a priest for 20 years. My birthday is April 9th.

†I am the priest at a church in Waco, Texas, where I also live. I am married to the Lord and the Lord only.

†I speak English and English only.

†Everyone is allowed on here to hear the good news of our Lord Jesus, our savior. However, people are corrupt. It would please me if minors did not bring up anything NSFW, or ask me anything NSFW.

†So come, come confess your sins my child, you can tell me hear or call me at +1 (866) HOLY-HIT, because Jesus, he knows me.

ADMIN: I must mention that I am in fact not an a real priest (unfortunately). My experience with catholicism is like 12 years of catholic school, and I do go to church every once in a while because of family, buuut that’s about it. I still do research the religion every once in a while because it’s fun to learn about.

Admin info under the cut

!!Admin will use “!!” to talk out of character.

Hi, I’m Charlie, I’m 20 and I don’t mind any pronouns, but I primarily go by she/it :)

Minors are welcome, just please be weary of any NSFW posts and do not interact with those. It makes it weird for the both of us.

I also run @chaintheghoul and @heisthethird

Save Baby Ammar’s Life!

My 9-month-old son, Ammar, is fighting for his life in the ICU. Every day without full treatment pushes him further into danger. We are doing everything we can, but the overwhelming medical costs are beyond our reach.😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

His life depends on your kindness. Any donation, no matter how small, can make a difference between hope and despair.،🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏🤲🤲

Please help us give Ammar a chance to live. Donate and share his story.🫂😭😭😭😭🙏

who gave me all this autism

“After learning my flight was detained 4 hours, I heard the announcement: if anyone in the vicinity of gate 4-A understands any Arabic, please come to the gate immediately. Well—one pauses these days. Gate 4-A was my own gate. I went there. An older woman in full traditional Palestinian dress, just like my grandma wore, was crumpled to the floor, wailing loudly. Help, said the flight service person. Talk to her. What is her problem? We told her the flight was going to be four hours late and she did this. I put my arm around her and spoke to her haltingly. Shu dow-a, shu-biduck habibti, stani stani schway, min fadlick, sho bit se-wee? The minute she heard any words she knew—however poorly used—she stopped crying. She thought our flight had been canceled entirely. She needed to be in El Paso for some major medical treatment the following day. I said no, no, we’re fine, you’ll get there, just late. Who is picking you up? Let’s call him and tell him. We called her son and I spoke with him in English. I told him I would stay with his mother until we got on the plane and would ride next to her—Southwest. She talked to him. Then we called her other sons just for the fun of it. Then we called my dad and he and she spoke for a while in Arabic and found out, of course, they had ten shared friends. Then I thought just for the heck of it why not call some Palestinian poets I know and let them chat with her. This all took up about 2 hours. She was laughing a lot by then. Telling about her life. Answering questions. She had pulled a sack of homemade mamool cookies—little powdered sugar crumbly mounds stuffed with dates and nuts—out of her bag—and was offering them to all the women at the gate. To my amazement, not a single woman declined one. It was like a sacrament. The traveler from Argentina, the traveler from California, the lovely woman from Laredo—we were all covered with the same powdered sugar. And smiling. There are no better cookies. And then the airline broke out the free beverages from huge coolers—non-alcoholic—and the two little girls from our flight, one African American, one Mexican American—ran around serving us all apple juice and lemonade, and they were covered with powdered sugar, too. And I noticed my new best friend—by now we were holding hands—had a potted plant poking out of her bag, some medicinal thing with green furry leaves. Such an old country traveling tradition. Always carry a plant. Always stay rooted to somewhere. And I looked around that gate of late and weary ones and thought, this is the world I want to live in. The shared world. Not a single person in this gate—once the crying of confusion stopped—has seemed apprehensive about any other person. They took the cookies. I wanted to hug all those other women, too. This can still happen anywhere. Not everything is lost.”

— Naomi Shihab Nye (b. 1952), “Wandering Around an Albuquerque Airport Terminal.”