#rukkus

[gxreyxrvxesi]

HEADCANON TIME🥰

spruce lowk listens to NIGHTkilla (ESPICIALLY ILL SHARP MINOR) and would prob introduce chip to NIGHTkilla (he would listen to the i cry remix prob or smth idek)

@zaphiraxc made this idea up bc one of his friend request denials said im too sharp for u or sum and made a satire vid with chip in i cry meme😭

[jung-hawon]

룩백 | 3,508 캡쳐하다

[cemyafilmarsiv]

[laestoicaotaku]

Look Back: ⭐⭐⭐⭐

[starkitten101]

why am I so bad at osu

[fanaticsnail]

hi sis can you write me a sanji fic pleaseeeeeee

One hurt/comfort Sanji fic here for you, Smol-Snail.

Limits

Masterlist Here

Word Count: 2,500+

Synopsis: Baratie has been overbooked, and the tension in the kitchen has been overwhelming. Being a hard-working kitchen hand, you have been covering far too many shifts. Sensing the overwhelm, your coworker attempts to aid you through your emotions.

Themes: Sanji x gn!reader, hurt/comfort, kitchen slang, eating food, minor swearing, fluff, angst, domesticity, hidden feelings, almost kisses, playful banter, nicknames.

Notes: Spoiling my sister usually includes Mihawk or Garp, but I am absolutely loving the change. Thanks for the ask, sis! Hope you like it. Also, gosh it's good to be back in Baratie again.

The crackle of water hitting a pan of hot oil popped and simmered, a string of curses and yells following the large rukkus. Voices overlapping, music blaring, orders expediting, and the clangs of silverware shuddering with ceramics in water continued to mute their tones in the air surrounding the lively kitchen of Baratie.

It had been a mean shift tonight. The restaurant was overbooked, over packed, and overwhelmed. Guests on the waiting list were made to wait longer than they had anticipated, adding to tempers flaring and temperaments turning foul on all sides. The front of house were begging with the back of house, the back of house pleading with the front of house. Chef Zeff had even jumped on the line, cooking alongside the lot of you to fight against the rush. The thump of his peg leg hitting the linoleum swelled within the serenade of the lively kitchen, the chorus finally rising without any indication of an interlude.

“Carne, 'hot behind', damn it!” Zeff growled angrily while standing to full stature. Carne was holding a tray of simmering desserts at chest height behind him while shifting from one surface to the other. “Communicate, kitchen. Ya’ hear?”

“Oui chef!” The kitchen all repeated the phrase like a prayer on their tongues to their hierarchical clergyman.

“Ca Marche-!”

“Sharps-!”

“Plate up-!”

“Push-!”

“To the pass-!”

“Through-!”

Sanji stalked through the rows up until the pass, pacing two and fro while jumping in to aid all those that needed support. Garnishing mains, whipping cream for desserts, assorting steel bowls of oils and accompaniments to coincide with breads and greens: Sanji did it all. Each time he stepped in to aid in the dance of the kitchen, his eyes fell to your frame to mentally check in.

Eyes down, shoulders hunched, rubber gloves thrust up to your elbows, you ensured the kitchen remained functional with the fluctuation of crockery, cutlery and dishes for truly impeccable service. The kitchen-hand, or 'Dish Pig', was the backbone to a functional restaurant, the mental wellbeing of the house truly on the shoulders of that individual.

How could a chef create masterpieces without a canvas? How could guests in the dining hall consume their delectable arrangements without the means to raise each bite to their lips? The kitchen-hand ensured all was possible, and the chefs barely paid you any heed while you slaved away to grant them relief in their supplies.

You attempted to hone in on your craft, using your fingernails beneath the rubber gloves to chip at caramelized and caked scorches on iron pots like a scourer. Breaths heavy and labored, you shifted everything from your focus asside from one thing and one thing only:

Keep the kitchen clean.

Bubbles and suds consumed your senses, your hair sticking to your forehead in heavy clumps of sweat and soap. Your nostrils flared with the burn of eucalyptus, lemon and menthol. Working a fortnight of splits and doubles to cover for your colleagues had finally taken its toll on you, and stressors in your personal life added to the tension in your bones. The loss on your own mentality began to slip into a panic as another wave of silverware made their way to your arm side.

The mention of, “‘Ere ye’ go, dish pig. Clean up,” barely phased you, regardless to the usual playful temperament you displayed. You didn't even crack the smile you usually had on your face, your permanent exhaustion falling in the emotionless and dead-stare you displayed down at the dish rack.

The kitchen has began to pack down. Each element was extinguished, and stock was taken alongside a final tally. The chefs had removed their aprons, cravats and hats and began making their way towards the bar for their knockoffs. Your own drink would have to wait, the pile never reducing no matter how hard you had worked.

For each plate you cleared and cleaned, four more would somehow find their way to your hands. Each pot would have a lid to match, each pan would have an array of spatula, tongs, and forks to pair with. The chefs used the tools of their artistry with reckless abandon, and it was now you who was paying the price for their carelessness.

“A'ight, beers? That what we're drinkin'?” Patty clapped his hands and rubbed them enthusiastically together. Carne barked out a long string of laughter, allowing himself to succumb to the relief that came from a grueling shift while he clapped his hand over Patty’s bicep.

“I'm keen on one of them steins we just got in,” he admitted, squeezing lightly before looking to Zeff, “Is that on the menu for knock offs, chef?”

“Only is if you save two for me, you prick,” Zeff stated affectionately, “Give us a pale or an amber, I'll be in my office takin’ a damn breath. What about you, little eggplant? What are you drinkin’ tonight?”

Sanji hadn't spoken a word since he hung up his apron. He had been keeping an eye on you throughout your shift, feeling the tension waft in your aura the longer you silently chipped away at your monotonous task.

“I'm gonna have a cigarette,” he nodded to the head chef without moving his eyes away from you. “Then I think I'll sample that new amaretto rum you got in.” Sanji moved to Zeff’s side, casually glancing back at you while lowering his tone to the head chef, “But first, I'm gonna stay here a while. Leave inventory to me, and I'll take care of it, old man.”

Zeff noticed the drop in Sanji’s usual cadence and finally took notice to the quiver in your shoulders. With a curt nod, Zeff turned to both Patty and Carne and spoke to them with a simple scowl that meant: ‘Get out of the kitchen, now’. The two chefs quickly looked between Zeff and Sanji, then to the source of the noise continuing to fall from the underappreciated corner of the kitchen. With a nod of their own, they silently excused themselves from the kitchen with Zeff trailing behind them.

Where Sanji would've placed an unlit cigarette between his teeth and stalked out behind them, he would never do that without you. Both of you were similar in ages, and the rapport and camaraderie had always been a highlight to his kitchen shifts. The two of you were more than coworkers, more than simple friends, and you both lived and breathed Baratie in your own ways. You both loved that place, thrived on the chaotic energy working the line, and adored spending time in the dark before the next shift would begin.

The only difference between you is Sanji had been working his usual shifts, and you had been overworked far beyond your natural capacity lately. You were running low on mental energy, and you were taking it out on the dishes you were cleaning.

Wiping, scrubbing, clawing, patting, drying, prying, stacking, and placing away in their delegated areas: you had not spoken a word for the whole shift. Nothing more than a soft, shaky breath expelling from an otherwise vacant expression, nobody would know if anything was occurring within the battle of your mind.

But Sanji did.

Unhooking his apron and rolling up the sleeves of his uniform jacket, he placed it over his neck and slowly moved over to work silently in an unoccupied station. Several containers of various raw ingredients were hastily removed from their spots. Pots, water, flours, sugars, utensils and plates were all set up by his skilled hands: making something of your youth that he knew would bring you comfort.

Rolling glutinous rice flour into small balls with regular flour and water, he stuffed them full of purple adzuki mix, hazelnut white chocolate, and yuzu-honey dew custard. Placing the small balls in a steamer, he set a mental timer to check on them after a few minutes. Not his usual method to make dango, but he wanted to experiment for you.

He knew better than to disturb you when you were like this, and he allowed you to work out whatever was brewing in your mind on the dishes you were cleaning. He looked to the bowls and dishes he had just made in crafting you something delectable and grimaced.

‘All of those dishes just to make a simple dessert,’ he mentally scolded himself, ‘And that's just one piece of the kitchen. You're taking care of everyone’s dishes here, not just the kitchen’s.’ He gently lifted the lid of the bamboo steamer to gauge the consistency of the circular treats, nodding to himself once he viewed the squishy exterior.

Plating up the dish by patting them dry and rolling them in rice flour, he softly approached you with the bowl of rainbow-colored treats.

You were in your own head, your thoughts swirling in a tight coil threatening to snap. This shift had been enough to break a seasoned kitchen hand, and you had endured it all with a silent professionalism. Just when you were about to begin the next wave of remaining dishes, you turned and met your eyes with a plate of rainbow and sunshine.

“Hands, chef. You need to eat something,” Sanji softly spoke, his usual smirk and cocky attitude fleeing his face. The replacement of his usual demeanor was something you hadn't experienced with him. His eyes were rounded, his lips softly pouring, his head was lowered and seeking out your gaze with his own, and his empathy was worn with each subtlety.

All in one fluid motion, your head hung low and your glove-covered hands shrouded your eyes from his gaze. At the same motion, Sanji placed the bowl down beside you and hastily drew you into an encumbering embrace. It had finally been too much for you, and this was the first breakdown you had ever had regarding a shift. Heavy sobs were muffled by your rubber-covered palms while Sanji cradled you in his arms.

“Hold onto me, love,” Sanji softly whispered into your ear. You immediately unburied your face within your palms and nuzzled into the blonde man’s neck, arms wrapping beneath his shoulders and clinging to him like a rope offered from a cliff’s edge. “There you go. Good job. Just hold on, okay?”

“S-Sanji?” you attempted to whimper out, only being met with a soft shush and a tighter hold on your form. He rose one arm up to remove your dark chef’s cap from your head and carded his hands over your scalp in a soft brush.

“You've been pushing too many doubles, and saying ‘yes’ a whole lot lately,” he gently soothed you, “And while I love this place as much as you and the old man, I know my limits.” He gently lifted his head to gaze down to where your head was nestled in his collar, “You just hit yours, didn't you?”

“First time since I started,” you whispered into his shirt, “I didn't think I had one ‘til now, Ji.” Your admission alongside his arms holding you firmly dried up your tears after the heavy release.

“Course you do. We all do,” his soft baritone gently coaxed you. You slowly raised your eyes to meet his. His smile was like sunshine after a storm, warmth following a heavy winter, hope where hopelessness was found mere minutes prior, and a sanctuary found after a season of war.

When he looked at you, you felt like the most important person in the world. Time stood still in that moment, eyes darting between one another's and gently focussing briefly on the other’s lips. The close proximity you found yourself in was not unfamiliar to you, but this emotion swelling was far greater than you had anticipated. Sanji made to lean towards you, halting mid-way and second guessing himself from giving you the kiss he truly wanted. Instead, he pressed his forehead to yours in a gentle seal of friendship.

Noses flush with one another’s, you both closed your eyes and dwelled in the silence for a moment. Nothing else was heard: no yells in the kitchen, no music from the dining room, no yells from your coworkers, and no demands from the patrons in the hall. All that was heard was the small thump of your heartbeat in your ears, and your shared breaths gently soothing one another in unison.

“I made you dango,” Sanji uttered softly, making no move to part from you.

“Thank you, Ji,” you expressed your gratitude just as softly.

“And while you eat, I'll finish up on the dishes,” he scrunched his nose playfully, moving away from your head and slowly releasing you from his embrace, “Then we can go and have a knock off. I'll have one of the bar staff take your shift tomorrow- And before you interrupt-!”

Sanji knew you all too well, halting your interjection before you had an opportunity to speak it out with a harsh expression.

“-I know it's a 'double split'. That's a four person job, and I know exactly the four people to do it,” he finally withdrew his arms from your shoulders and soothed your upper arms with a firm caress. “Now, hand over those gloves. I made a right mess cooking you your sweets, and I'm going to see to it that it's spotless while you eat.”

You slowly removed your arms from his body, halting them briefly on his hips while you bowed your head in gratitude.

“Oui, chef,” you huffed out in a bid to add humor to the scenario. Releasing him from your grasp, you began to remove your rubber gloves and hang them over the steel railing beside the sink.

Sanji slid his hands from your shoulders, his right hand moving to gently tap your chin up with his index finger. Following his motions, you met your eyes with his once more, offering him a small smile after the exhaustion of emotional release.

“‘Oui Chef’?” he gently teased you, his eyes playfully narrowing in his jest, “Hush, you. Now go eat your dango and tell me what you like about it. We got sweet red bean, white chocolate hazelnut, and citrus-melon mouse in the centers.”

Your eyes bloomed with a wave of gratitude, Sanji’s understanding washing from his aura and consuming you within his single glance. The only thing to break your joint hypnosis with the scent of the sweetness atop the bench, you bobbed your head a final time to your coworker and dearest friend.

You moved to sit by the sink on a wooden stool, plonking down and resting your worn feet with the plate sat in your lap. Head slumping on the steel bench, you close your eyes and raise one of the squishy spheres to your lips.

Placing the entire blob into your mouth, the center burst on impact of the clamp of your teeth. The flavors erupted over your palate, your emotions once again being forced to the surface at his thoughtfulness. Each tartness was compensated by the sweetness it needed, the sours holding a balance of soft umami to prolong the dance over your tongue.

Watching from the corner of his eye while elbows deep in the sink, Sanji smiled at the encounter, truly pleased that he could offer you that sense of comfort after a grueling few weeks. Each bite you took of his mastery had his heart swell. Knowing he could do this for you, take a piece of that burden away from you and give you some joy to focus on: that was all he ever craved in return from you.

Tag list: @mfreedomstuff @daydreamer-in-training @since-im-already-here @gingernut1314 @writingmysanity @i-am-vita @indydonuts @feral-artistry @the-light-of-star @empirenowmp3 @racfoam @sunflowersatori @carrotsunshine @skullfacedlady @jintaka-hane @thenotsofantasticlifestory

[ramayantika]

👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀

Did i tell you guys that @sanskari-kanya is super cute

[ride-thedragon]

House Martell Fancasts.

I will say that before I begin, I try to be both book and show accurate. So characters are aged up to fit the show timeline, but also, this production would've happened in 2014, so I tried to cast actors who were active around that time. Lastly, I like the books, but if the actor doesn't match physically, it's because the actor themselves do.

ELIA MARTELL: Varada Sethu

CHILDREN OF HOUSE MARTELL.

Arianne Martell: Rukku Nahar

Quentyn Martell: Fady Elsayed

Trystane Martell: Suraj Sharma

SAND SNAKES OF HOUSE MARTELL.

Obara Sand: Alicia Vikander

Tyene Sand: Olivia Dejonge

Nymeria Sand: Leem Lubany

Sarella Sand: Fola Evans-Akingbola

MEN AROUND HOUSE MARTELL (ft an ashara dayne fancast.)

Gerald Darkstar: Callum Turner

Daemon Sand: Jack O'Connell

Ashara Dayne: Antonia Thomas

[hygrifkrrshinavask949]

HELLOO!!!!! IM BACK👋👋👋👋

I am still very much alive, just happened that I'm more active on diff places, have these scribbles

*note the last two drawings have dated design (2023), up to date ref sheets (as of 2024) are avaiable below👇

Also I forgot to properly introduce my JJBA OC project called "GAPLOK GANG", (shortened "GG") on this site, whoops! The whole thing about GG is that what if Araki mostly plays Geometry Dash instead. This project takes place in SBRverse in the year 2017, The "Gang" consists of Bangarang/Rufio, Nathan, Rukkus/Eddie, and Hinkik/Hind, they have their own stand ability; Thumper, Electroman Adventures, Reload! Reload!, and Rubber Band respectively.

Below is more nonsense scribbles of the gang

I should dump more information about GG here, there's so much things to talk about!! this is mostly a Just For Fun Project, so there's not much lore so far but you might get the gist on how this worked out! ^_^

[haveyouheardthisband]

[charlicpace]

GIF MASTERLIST ! in the source link, you'll find all of my available gif packs. i'm unsure what's in the tags and what isn't, and thought they could do with a bit of a boost*. everything was made from scratch by my good self, and almost everything is available for under £5 -- however, i have a discount code live atm; POUNDS4PACE will give you 50% off until the end of february 2024. ( *full transparancy: all purchases are particularly appreciated after the day i've had -- i'm currently putting money aside for my child's birthday, saving to fund an access to higher education course in midwifery to start a new work path, and i need to recarpet my hallway; all of this is fine, but i burnt my hand the other day and had to go to urgent care today to have the ring my father's ashes are in cut off of my finger due to the swelling, and i wasn't expecting to have to pay for a jewellery repair or getting the stone put in a new band. if it were any other ring, i wouldn't have given a toss, but i'd like to get it fixed asap, and don't have the spare money to do it. )

alexa havins (100+ gifs)

ana de armas (600+ gifs)

anjl mohindra (100+ gifs)

carey mulligan (300+ gifs)

daniel anthony (100+ gifs - more coming soon)

danielle harold (nearly 200 gifs)

davood ghadami (100+ gifs)

dichen lachman (60+ gifs)

dougie poynter (300+ gifs)

dylan saunders (70+ gifs)

emilie de ravin (700+ gifs)

gareth david lloyd (nearly 100 gifs)

gemma chan (70+ gifs)

georgia tennant (200+ gifs)

gurlaine kaur garcha (50+ gifs)

jacqueline jossa (300+ gifs)

jasmine armfield (20+ gifs)

jessica plummer (80+ gifs)

jessie mueller (nearly 40 gifs)

joey richer (200+ gifs)

jon matteson (nearly 400 gifs)

jonathan rhys meyers (1000+ gifs)

jordin sparks (nearly 400 gifs)

julia goldani telles (nearly 300 gifs)

katharine mcphee (300+ gifs)

lacey turner (1000+ gifs)

lauren lopez (800+ gifs)

lorna fitzgerald (nearly 30 gifs)

louisa lytton (40+ gifs)

maisie smith (100+ gifs)

mariah rose faith (nearly 200 gifs)

naoko mori (60+ gifs)

nicolette robinson (500+ gifs)

priya davdra (nearly 40 gifs)

rukku nahar (100+ gifs)

shona mcgarty (100+ gifs)

tilly keeper (50+ gifs)

yunjin kim (500+ gifs)

likes & reblogs of this post are very much appreciated !

[sanskari-kanya]

You have the elder sister type vibe, and I love your humor. You're sweet too. Rukku Maa's rasgullas remind me of you all the time. Also like . . . I'm slightly intimidated for idk what reason but it's not your fault it's mine 👉👈🥺

Awww thankyou very much this made me all giggly and happy and all that 🥹🥹💗

And idk why you’re intimidated but understandable since i get that a looott from people 😭👍

[ramayantika]

Voh bhi kya din the mere yahan se sara delete ho gaya hai ab bas dimag ke memory chip mein hai 😂

Aaj hi mere purane screenshots me tere snaps mile...nostalgia hua hehe

Tere paas abhi bhi hai?? Kitna storage hai tere phone mein?

[krsnaradhika]

Hehe- A very raw piece of writing here. Also if anyone's wondering, I have an OC in here. Don't mind her tho lmao. Feel free to point out the mistakes!

Shri Shri Rukmini Satyabhama sameta Krishna samarpayami

Rukmini and Satyabhama spare some time with each other in Dvaraka, post a work day.

When SuryaNarayana's chariot rode below the horizon in the city of gates, the shades of saffron and dark mingling in one against the canvas of the welkin glimmered against the fair visage of the Narayani, the chief among the Ashtapatni of Keshava, who blessed the sun lord once before the lunar god arrived for his shift.

Rukmini's smile exuded the semblance of a fully bloomed water lily, bright pink and one dripping honey, much like her lotus eyes that crinkled in merry. Rolling back the dried scrolls, she interlocked her slender fingers against each other and gave a stretch, yawning with tears clinging to the corner of her eyes and a half-fatigued look eclipsing her usual Chanchala-ness.

Something swished against the shadows of Dvaravati castle's cloisters forged with finesse, quick to gain her attention. It played around on the whims of Vayu before a hand smothered it, deliberately camouflaging in the silence and semi-murk of the eventide. Krishnatmika frowned momentarily, eyebrows puckering before they rose again in glee. Grinning from ear to ear, she languidly shifted again in her seat, craning her neck to get a better look at whatever shenanigans BhuLakshmi was now upto.

"Ayi, I am not Bhanu to accompany his father in their monkey business. I am his mother, Rukku Jiji!" The unladly-like squeak that then addressed her, had Vaidarbhi doubling over as a pouting Satyabhama stepped out of the shadows; her hands on her hips with a look of betrayal and disbelief on her countenance.

"Very well, it's you after Kanha I see." She snorted, adding fuel to the mirth of her elder co-wife whose shoulders trembled by the laughter she tried subduing but to no avail.

"Aww, darling little Bhamae, please have a seat. How may I assist you, my queen?" Rukmini pursed her lips, pushing back her amusement as Satyabhama rolled her eyes once more, shaking her head fondly; headstrong on maintaining the pseudo act of being offended but failed eventually. The latter moved around in unrushed steps, stationing more oil lamps in the corners of the council hall that contained no one but them for then, murmuring a hymn to the goddess of time.

"Samba was asking for his Jyeshtha Maa. Jamba Jiji told him she's got a more darling child," Satyabhama giggled while spinning on her heels, as a horrified Rukmini felt bad for snickering again. "He's been ceaselessly wailing like a typical child since, and needless to say, Yamuna's enjoying it. She even teased him for his other favourite Maa's too busy with Satyaa's little one." She mimicked the lisp of KrishnaPutra in the end, an exasperating amusement in her demeanour as Rukmini for the perhaps the first time in her life, was at a loss of words.

"Leave you, it's Kalindi who has unofficially vowed to not let me live in peace for once."

"No no, that designation is mine. I'll fight Yama to have his twin in place you see."

A short snug silence filled their space, an ecstasy in their hearts as was their nature. Satyabhama returned to Rukmini with a dramatic look of conflict in her eyes and a bowl of heated oil in her hand.

Bhudevi seated herself on a couch placed at a corner, before enthroning Rukmini's head on her lap, letting the latter's tresses loose to sprawl around like tendrils of forest vegetation, jasmine flowers caged in them at irregular intervals. The vermillion smeared forehead of the princess of Shri-kshetra gave the image of the sun itself, eyes like stars curtained with a thin stretch of coral tinctured flesh. She was as precious to Madhava as the moon was to the poets, her bracing aura eternally enrapturing the patron of sustenance.

Prathama Dvarakeshvari studied the half-glare thrown her way before blinking, hauling her soul sister from the reverie of admiration she retained for her, "What are you looking at, Bhamae?"

"On a scale of 1 to 10, how much do I love you for not pulling your ears for being late, big sister?" Varahi shook her head from side to side, experiencing irk and affection at once.

Krishnatmika flushed sheepishly before cheekily smiling as a pair of fingers slid in her scalp, the empyrean aroma of camphor infused almond oil wafting in the air around and having her almost melt like butter, "10 on 10, Vasundharae. You'll punish me, your beloved Shri? Will you not think of my darling ears?"

Satyabhama continued with her work, her doting eyes softening further as she felt Rukmini gradually flop, exhaling a sigh of relief and burying her face in the former's lap, "I shall have you locked away from the council for a week, do not forget that Mata Kokila's ferral cat is here to endorse and assist my shenanigans too."

'This scion of the flames is beholden to your majesty for thy exquisite choice of words recounting my magnificence, Shri Shri Dvaraka Maharani. It's a shame I am not as competent as you in terms of analogies and vocabulary. Grant this servant with leniency, good lady.’ A mordant smile flashed from the other end of the mind bond as Satyabhama bowed in her sitting position, putting a hand on her chest in comic gratitude.

'You're welcome and pardoned, peasant.'

Rukmini smiled again, thoroughly relishing the repartee as the other Bharyas too joined in from different parts of the castle itself, each with more audacious, either too advanced or lame humoured responses to the other's teasing.

What would she do without these brats?

[ahlulbaytnetworks]

Imam Hussain’s (as) last sermon to the Umayyad army in Karbala

On the 10th of Moharram in 61 A.H., Imam Hussains admonished the army of Banu Umayyad in Karabala by giving an eloquent Sermon.

Holy Prophet (saw) raised me up by feeding the Divine Prophecies.

I am the son of Prophet (saw) w and my mother is ‘Batool’sws (3).

I have been created as infallible Imam.

I have the privilege of being the son of Amir-ul-Momaneen (as) .

I am the son of that who holds the key to the future events and sustenance of the whole universe.

Hassan (Imam) has brought me up to his customs.

I am the Divine authority, recognise me prior to declaring war against me.

Be aware! You will close all the doors of forgiveness by killing me.

You are doing this for the attraction of your leader’s promised rewards, but if you ask me, I can bless you thousands’ time more than that.

(I know) collecting filth is in your genes.

You are unable to comprehend and (debate with doubts) that we regularly travel through the milky ways. (Be aware) Stars are nothing else but aftermath of footprints. North pole finds its direction from us.

Our destination is in ‘Qabah Quosaan(4); and ‘Bait-ul-Mamoor(5) is our residence.

‘Bismillah (6) refers to our beginning and ‘Yakhamah (7) concludes with our (attributes).

‘Innamah (8) describes our Divinity and Purity, ‘Allif-lam (9) is on our introduction,

‘WalAsr (10) is about our glandular status,

The Verse of ‘Feel (11) is the narration of our past,

‘Walfaj (12) has borrowed colours from us, ‘Filqurbah (13) is the means to seek nearness to us, the verse of ‘Dahr (14) is on our generosity, ‘MinYashra’ defines our rights,

‘Al-Taha’ is about our way of life, the Verse of ‘Muzimmil (15) is our outfit,

the verse of ‘AlQadr1 (16) authenticate our (Divine) rights, it is in our jurisdiction to change the direction of ‘Qabateen’ (17)

We attend to the needs of others in ‘Rukku (18) of prayers.

Our traditions became the principles of religion; we are the ‘Ibrahimy (19).

However, those who could not gain guidance from 63 years of preaching will not be influenced by my words. You are blinded by the ‘worthless’ rewards and are inclined to disgrace Holy Prophet’s family (as) -which would result in your eternal punishment.

1 Nahjul Asrar, reference, Usool-e-Kafi, vol, 1, chapter 20.’

2 Salawat wassalam

3 Prophet Mohammed saww’s daughter’s title meaning a lady created from the Divine Noor.

4 The highest point in the heavens.

5 Highest point in skies where Divine Throne is located.

6 The Name of God

7

8 Al- Ahzab, Chapter 21, verse 33. Indeed Allah swt wants to keep uncleanness away from Ahlul Bait

sws.

9 First Verse in AlBaqqara.

10 WalAsr, Chapter 30, Verse 103.

11 AlFeel, Chapter 30, Verse 105

12 WalFajr, Chapter 30, Verse 89.

13 The Verse which says that it is compulsory to love Ahlul Bait sws.

14 Chapter 30, Verse 76.

15 Chapter 29, Verse 73

16 Chapter 30, Verse 97

17 Two directions for offering prayers.

[archipithecus]

18 - Mirin - Weave

Pronunciation /miɾin/

Etymology From Proto-Pirngu *midin.

Noun mirin (erg. mirinnak, def. ti-mirin, indef. mirim-mang, int. mim-mirin)

Weft string. 

A braid, plait.

A way or type of weaving.

Verb, (agent)/(recipient)/patient mirin (past. mimirin)

To weave.

To braid, plait.

To tack or shunt, to sail upwind in alternating directions either by turning and letting the sail swing to the other side (tacking), or by reconfiguring the sail so that the old prow is the stern and vice versa (shunting). The large Pirngu ships (tanur) can only tack, while the small ships and canoes can also shunt.

To pass back and forth.

To tell a story, gossip, chat, have a conversation, see punnu (“spin”).

Example Sentences

Ti-mirin pa nuppa mbaru puwunnu — “This weft is spun seal gut”

Mirin ti-muwu puwunnu uppan ti-nawa — “The spun banana fiber weaves through the warp”

Ni ndara attu ri ti-rukku, ndaraak mirin ti-ranur — “If we sail into the wind, we tack the ship”

Kirrak tirikki ti-mirin ti-nar — “She pulled the girl’s braid”

Ndarung ut ti-mirinnak ri uwi — “You like to braid hair”

Ti-nar ta ngiwa mbi kun punnu kun mirin — “The old women over there spin and weave (gossip)”

Kirrak mimirin ngur-mang tak kikkjar-mang pak ku kumbum-mang namu — “She wove a dress with a  flying sea eagle and a breaching whale”