Nothing Feels Nicer Than Ur Grandma Bringing Freshly Made Pudding To Ur Room So U Can Taste It

Mukaish or Muqaish work is a form of embellishment work in which strips of metallic wire are inserted into the fabric and then twisted to create metallic embroidery. This type of embroidery involves twisting thin metallic threads to create patterns all over the fabric. Traditionally, real silver and gold were used, but is increasingly being replaced with cheaper metals.

The metal that is used in the Mukaish work is usually in the shape of a wire. The metal is first stretched into strips and then passed through the fire so that metal takes on different hues. After this, metal is then cut into wires of finer breadths. Next, the wires are beaten using a small hammer so that the density of the wire is almost paper thin. Only when such density is achieved the wire can be weaved in and out of something as delicate as a fabric. Once the embroidery work is complete, the fabric is spread out flat. The embroidery is then flattened and brightened thoroughly over with a glass bottle or cowrie shells. This is done to work out any lumps in the embroidery. It also burnishes the metal and leaves it brighter and shinier.

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man the derry girls finale had me sobbing

<3333

Everyone: —

Veer: (ง'̀-'́)ง (ง'̀-'́)ง (ง'̀-'́)ง

Saba: *exists*

Veer: ໒( ♥ ◡ ♥ )७

imma start calling AR Rahman Midas because everything he touches, turns gold

Twenty-three

One day you wake up and you’re twenty-three and you can’t remember what it feels like to be seventeen but you still cry to your mother after a bad day and you look a little older but you don’t really feel it. One day you’re twenty-three and your great-aunt is telling you how mature you look and how you grew a little taller but inside you still remember sitting under the oak tree reading with no meetings tomorrow and no rent to pay and the only thing you can think about is how at seventeen you thought at twenty-three you would know everything and now you can’t remember how you got from there to here. But seventeen-year-old you was wrong because you know only some things and not everything.

You know that coffee tastes better in the mornings and your home isn’t your home anymore; it’s “Mum and Dad’s”. You know your car needs servicing every six months and groceries are harder to do after breakups. She liked cookie dough and walnuts and strawberry-flavored milk and now every time you go to the store you can’t buy spaghetti without remembering it was a Friday night and she kissed you for the first time and the heat from her skin could have set your entire place on fire. One day you’re twenty-three and you’re trying to explain to a seventeen-year-old all the mistakes you made so they won’t make them too, when all you really want is for someone to realize you still don’t have the first clue.

─ Courtney Peppernell, Pillow Thoughts

Reblog if you're not homophobic

Every url that reblog’s will be written in a book and shown to my homophobic dad. 

as a brown child, i can say sarcasm is in my veins.

as well as curry.

You know what? Fuck birth order. Tell me which sibling from The Darjeeling Limited you relate most to

the dead poets as ' the onion' headlines

No one:

Literally No one:

Witches: shit.... I forgot about Mabon.