#HYDAREATES
Explore tagged Tumblr posts
Text
Are avocados good for your heart health?
View On WordPress
#2024#ACNE#AVOCADO#CHOLESTROL#DIABETES#FRUIT#GREENAPPLE#headmassage#HEALTHCARE#HEART#HYDAREATES#KING#SCAR#SKINCARE#SKINROUTINE#SKINTIPS#TRENDING
0 notes
Note
I have a fic title for you!
“Dancing in the rain your blood.”
“Dancing in the rain your blood.”
Genre: angst
When the reader goes missing on a mission with the Avengers, against Logan's wishes, he stops getting letters and phone calls from them. All Logan knew was that they were on a search for rouge mutants and the very possibility that HYDAR had captured some of his own.
Reader convinces Logan to stay behind, in the promise they'd be careful not to get harmed. The Avengers were gracious enough to hold out on the promise. Until slowly, the communication between you and logan had ceased.
He vowed through all the depths of hell that he would search for you, no matter the consequences. Even if that meant you were dead somewhere in a ditch. he'd rain hell on those who have harmed you.
(sorry this was so so long ago asked lol. i haven't had inspiration to think of something for this. but i'd recently become obsessed with the new deadpool movie, and now here we are lol)
2 notes
·
View notes
Text
“I translate the names of boys killed in Gaza” // Ghinwa Jawhari
In the city of poets, there is a boy with a stone He is the guardian, lion-hearted and small, the stone half of his palm His palm half of mine. The land scorched by naked sun The blue of the sky lightens his eyes. In the city of poets, there is a boy with a stone. We call him Hydar, which means lion, which means brave We call him Khadir which means goodness We call him Ahmad which means commendable We call him Rashad which means good judgement In the city of poets, the boy with a stone can visit his family in el-Quds, which means Jerusalem. He picks oranges and lemons with his grandfather on an orchard as long as his small boy body can see. He fills a basket with vibrant fruit for his mother He doesn’t drop the stone We call him Riyad which means gardens We call him Seeraj, which means light We call him Mazen, which means cloud We call him Sa’ad which means happiness We call him Basim, which means the one who smiles He is always smiling. On his shoulders, he holds his sister up to a branch she can’t reach and they both fall, laughing, to the soft red earth that’s known them & fed them in every past life. He leads her back home, where their mother bakes bread. He holds her hand. He doesn’t drop the stone We call him Mehdi, which means rightly guided We call him Amir which means prince We call him Alaa which means nobility We call him Slayman, which means man of peace We call him Mustafa, which means chosen one In the city of poets, there is a boy with a stone. At school he memorizes verses from Darwish, Samih Al-Qasem, Fadwa Tuqan. Midday, outside, the sun overhead warms his small body as he kicks a ball to other small boys like him. In each of their hands, there is a stone We call him Hani, which means carefree & happy We call him Tariq, which means morning star We call him Salah, which means peace We call him Bahaa’ which means brilliance We call him Marwan, which means stone In the city of poets, the boy sleeps in a bedroom with his brother. On the walls there are posters of soccer players and musicians. His parents smoke and laugh downstairs with their neighbors. Outside the only noises are from crickets, the carpet of stars above them lights the angles of his brothers’ face, his future face. Even in sleep, they don’t drop the stone We call him Saleem which means safe and secure We call him Hazem which means determined We call him Omar, which means long-lived We call him Khalid, which means endless, eternal In the city of poets, a tank waits for him, an army behind, flanked by a police brigade, glazed in impenetrable armor. Over his home, the deafening whine of an airstrike. The boy will wake on this day, his stone in hand, his hand clutched like a heart at the moment of flight, our guardian. And we will call him Shaheed, which means martyr.
#poetry#Ghinwa Jawhari#Palestinian poetry#Arabic poetry#intifada#elegy#Palestine#poems of protest#poems of rage#grief#names#childhood
2 notes
·
View notes
Text
This week in Montréal: n°539 | Lamps, by Yvan Hydar ↦ FRA
More → www.yvan-hydar.fr More → oripeau.art Submit → oripeau.art/submit Playlist → open.spotify.com/playlist/4R7PXexzD8ifWlzb7YiH76
This project is supported by OBNL blanc couleur and groupeimmoclass.com and Bâtiment 7
3 notes
·
View notes
Note
Gat gat tenu pi jawan
Chalo ab party me sabko hydarate hone ka yaad dilate dilate party mat bhul jana
3 notes
·
View notes
Text
[Transcription: "I translate the names of boys killed in Ghaza
Ghinwa Jawhari
In the city of poets, there is a boy with a stone He is the guardian, lion-hearted and small, the stone half of his palm His palm half of mine. The land scorched by naked sun The blue of the sky lightens his eyes. In the city of poets, there is a boy with a stone. We call him Hydar, which means lion, which means brave We call him Khadir which means goodness We call him Ahmad which means commendable We call him Rashad which means good judgement In the city of poets, the boy with a stone can visit his family in el-Quds, which means Jerusalem. He picks oranges and lemons with his grandfather on an orchard as long as his small boy body can see. He fills a basket with vibrant fruit for his mother He doesn’t drop the stone We call him Riyad which means gardens We call him Seeraj, which means light We call him Mazen, which means cloud We call him Sa’ad which means happiness We call him Basim, which means the one who smiles He is always smiling. On his shoulders, he holds his sister up to a branch she can’t reach and they both fall, laughing, to the soft red earth that’s known them & fed them in every past life. He leads her back home, where their mother bakes bread. He holds her hand. He doesn’t drop the stone We call him Mehdi, which means rightly guided We call him Amir which means prince We call him Alaa which means nobility We call him Slayman, which means man of peace We call him Mustafa, which means chosen one In the city of poets, there is a boy with a stone. At school he memorizes verses from Darwish, Samih Al-Qasem, Fadwa Tuqan. Midday, outside, the sun overhead warms his small body as he kicks a ball to other small boys like him. In each of their hands, there is a stone We call him Hani, which means carefree & happy We call him Tariq, which means morning star We call him Salah, which means peace We call him Bahaa’ which means brilliance We call him Marwan, which means stone In the city of poets, the boy sleeps in a bedroom with his brother. On the walls there are posters of soccer players and musicians. His parents smoke and laugh downstairs with their neighbors. Outside the only noises are from crickets, the carpet of stars above them lights the angles of his brothers’ face, his future face. Even in sleep, they don’t drop the stone We call him Saleem which means safe and secure We call him Hazem which means determined We call him Omar, which means long-lived We call him Khalid, which means endless, eternal In the city of poets, a tank waits for him, an army behind, flanked by a police brigade, glazed in impenetrable armor. Over his home, the deafening whine of an airstrike. The boy will wake on this day, his stone in hand, his hand clutched like a heart at the moment of flight, our guardian. And we will call him Shaheed, which means martyr." /end transcription]
published in the brooklyn rail (2021)
6K notes
·
View notes
Text
Abdirak: “You know the Maiden of Pain?”
Djahima, former Chosen of Loviatar, known as Tuldazrim Hydar or The Calimport Boogeyman, who wiped out the Loviatan monastic Order of the White Rod in Calimshan: “I’m familiar.”
#➥ 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐬𝐞 𝐛𝐨𝐨𝐭𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐜𝐫𝐮𝐬𝐡 𝐚𝐧𝐲𝐨𝐧𝐞 ;; musings#if you’re wondering why a Loviatan wouldn’t know/recognize them it’s because they usually conceal their face#so no one knows what they really look like#and the mindflayers threw away their mask when they tadpole’d them#they have to consciously remember not to glare at everything rip
0 notes
Text
How to spot the signs of Parkinson’s… and what to do if you do
Parkinson’s disease is the fastest-growing neurological condition in the world – currently, without a cure. One in 37 people alive today in the UK will be diagnosed with Parkinson’s in their lifetime1. It is therefore imperative to spot the symptoms of the condition early and to understand what to do next. Rosie Hydar, who runs a local in-home care introduction service, Hub Care Support Exeter,…
View On WordPress
0 notes
Text
KMR’s Heidi Hydar Joins Clear Talent Group’s Stunt & Sports Division http://dlvr.it/T4jNGP
0 notes
Text
0 notes
Note
What elemental is Hydar? (Is it something related to oil?)
She is the liquid metal known as mercury! Organic metal elementals can be all different kinds of metals. For someone like Matvey I see him as sheet metal, I don't have anything specific in mind for him, but Hydrar's element is specifically mercury!
Actually her full name, Hydrar Gyrum, is the scientific name for mercury "hydrargyrum" lol. I've been thinking of giving her a stage name known as Quicksilver, or possibly renaming their band to that.
She does have oil properties to her body as well! Obviously, like most elementals, it's a different kind of oil to that you find in the ground, so no worry about her making an oil spill if she goes into the water.
Her oil is more of a protective coat or natural oil her mercury secretes, kinda like our hair oil. But she can also control this mercury and oil, which she uses when her arm is being fixed up or gets broken (which can be dangerous for others in a fight because liquid metal is still something you don't want in your blood stream if you are not that specific elemental).
When Hydrar washes her hair she actually loses the oil colors for a few hours. Making her hair look more like what regular mercury looks like (so like a blobby mirror). The oils come back pretty quickly.
So yes, oil and mercury is what Hydrar's element is!
0 notes
Text
Photographer: Ali Hydar
the image shows a sillouhet of a girl throwing an umbrella up in the air. The sillouhet figure appears dark on the image against a bright background creating a good positive and negative space balance. image is composed centered with the umbrella being the center of the image.
0 notes
Text
This week in Montréal: n°548 | Playground, by Yvan Hydar ↦ FRA
More → oripeau.art Submit → oripeau.art/submit Playlist → open.spotify.com/playlist/4R7PXexzD8ifWlzb7YiH76
This project is supported by OBNL blanc couleur and groupeimmoclass.com and Bâtiment 7
0 notes
Text
german hydrohomies be like:
waz going meine homies i höpe you are alle drinking ze water and staying hydarated jaja
69 notes
·
View notes
Text
I will try. Thats all i promise
hydration your mouth please
5K notes
·
View notes
Text
wher e do i go.....every1 is telling me to hydarate but HOW to get water thats my question right now
#personal#i want more orange liqueur i do i do#but i prommied i wouldnt i prommied#i am sitting under the table its sooooo nice down here
5 notes
·
View notes