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leftistfeminista · 10 months ago

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Resistance at Turkish women’s prison

On 18 October 2000 revolutionary prisoners from the DHKP-C, the Communist Party of Turkey Marxist-Leninist (TKP-ML) and the Communist Workers’ Party of Turkey (TKIP) had begun a hunger-strike to the death in protest against the government’s plans to transfer them to the ‘F-type’ prison cells. The hunger strike was indefinite and several hundred prisoners divided into ‘teams’ participated. At the time of the attack the first team had been on hunger-strike for 61 days.

In the women’s prison at Bayrampasa, the bombardment began at 5am. Ayla Ozcan described what happened in a statement to her lawyer:

‘When I looked outside from the window I saw the special military units on the roofs. They were wearing gas masks and their long-range rifles were directed at the dormitory…They were swearing at us. “We came here to kill you,” they were saying…After opening several holes in the ceiling, the bombardment with gas bombs began. We were choking and trying to gasp for air. While covering our mouths and noses with wet towels to neutralise the effect of the gas, we were breaking the windows of our dormitory to get some fresh air. The rain of gas bombs was continuing. We moved towards the windows to get some air. Some of our friends fainted…

‘Approximately 700 to 1,000 bombs were thrown at us. We had nothing to retaliate with but we shouted slogans back at them. The bombs started to burn us and while we were trying to put the fire out, we were also inhaling gas.

‘At around noon they started to throw nerve gas and fire bombs at us. Most of us choked and lost consciousness. The flames started to cover the dormitory. Those who had not fainted yet were continuing to shout slogans and sing marching songs. The fire spread all over the dormitory. We all moved towards the door; we had to get out. Everywhere was shrouded in smoke and fire.

‘Because of the effect of the gas some of us lost consciousness. I fell too. Some of my comrades fell over me. I could not breathe. Then one of my comrades pushed me out of the door. The threshold was as hot as hell. Nothing could be seen because of the smoke.

‘Downstairs some comrades were throwing water on themselves to try and stop burning. Hair, hands and the backs of most of us were burnt. I saw Ebru Dincer sitting on the stairs, fully burnt. She could not speak and her hands, face, hair and most parts of her body were burnt. Then our comrades Hacer Arikan, Birsen Kars and Gulizar Kesici were taken out of the flames with a great effort. There were still some comrades inside. Everyone was running from one place to another. Finally two comrades re-entered the dormitory to search for the others. When they returned empty- handed, their faces, hair and hands were burnt too. When we went downstairs we noticed that Nilufer, Seyhan, Ozlem, Sefinur and the Death Fast First Team fighter Gulseren Ozturk were not amongst us. They were left in the blaze. While our comrades were burning alive, the murderers were filming their creation with pleasure. They had water hoses but they were not squirting water into the burning dormitory.

‘After a while we came out of the exercise area from the ground floor dormitory. We started to dance the halay (traditional Anatolian dance). We were replying to the enemy, saying “You could not make us surrender, you were defeated”…

‘Meanwhile the murderers were entering one by one from the door that was cut off. Our resistance had been continuing for seven hours. While our injured comrades were trying to come out of the dormitory, the murderers opened fire at them with their long-range rifles.

‘We gathered in the middle of the exercise area and held tight to each other. The murderers entered the dormitory and directed their rifles at us from the windows. They were pointing at us and in a cowardly fashion saying “Come towards us one by one, surrender yourselves”.

‘We said we would not surrender and if they wished to they should come and take us. We were continuously shouting at them. “You burnt our friends alive. You will pay for this. You will present an account to our people.”

‘They started to approach slowly. They dragged us on the floor along the corridor to a big hall, beating us all the way. The resistance of our male comrades was still continuing. Later on they took us to hospital one by one. We were beaten there too since we refused an immoral body search. They asked me and the other Death Fast fighters whether we would accept medical treatment or not. We said “No, we refuse, we continue our Death Fast”.

‘They put 14 of us in a transport vehicle in completely wet clothes. We were all shivering. We were not allowed to go to the toilet or drink water. They were telling us to soil our pants. After waiting hours they took us to Bakirkoy remand prison. They were continuously filming while all this was happening. They wanted to put us into the cells one by one when we arrived at the prison. We refused. Then they had to put us in threes.

‘From now on, maybe we will all die one by one but we will never agree to surrender. Once again they are the defeated, we and our people are the victors. We continue the Death Fast. We will continue until victory.’

#political prisoners #marxism-feminism #turkey #kurdistan #Communist Party of Turkey Marxist-Leninist #Communist Workers’ Party of Turkey

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yourlazykitkat · 2 months ago

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feel alive, lover

notes: Happy Holidays @bubybubsters!!! This I, your secret santa who will save you from eviction (and my fax machine from all the noise complaints we've been getting.) I rewrote this little snippet many times coz I struggled to get it just right but hopefully you'll enjoy it.

thank you @acotargiftexchange for hosting this lovely event <3

word count: 2.1k

tags: Azriel/Eris, Post-Canon, Hurt/Comfort, Angst, There was Only One Bed, Graphic Depictions of Injury/Healing

summary: After the war with Koschei, Azriel finds a letter meant for no one and decides to follow through anyway.

fic:

For my dearest Lady of the Darkest Mountain,

Your last letter was a prayer answered in this bloody war. Even though the war has been won and our soldiers are trickling home, the path from my waiting heart to your ever-gracing lips has become a river of blood and death. I do not beg often but I must here- that your sweet hand will not leave mine or else I may drown without ever learning how a sweet mouth like yours passes breath to another.

With all my heart,

Eris Vanserra, High Lord of the Autumn Court

---///---

“His Lordship is not currently taking visitors." Azriel snaps, using his whole weight deceptively against the mahogany door and his unblemished hand pulling the gold-trimmed curtains closer as to conceal his patient. He clicks his tongue, the Autumn tongue not settling quite right, "You'll have to make an appointment with one of his ministers."

“I have been waiting for hours,” Lady Delour hisses, with their face like a blushing flower, and Azriel watches, fascinated as the lace and ruffle of their bodice begins to bloom. “Lord Eris-”

“High Lord.” He corrects and Delour’s face flushes insidiously.

“ High Lord Eris has no ministers to speak of as of now.”

“The absolute tyranny,” He agrees, “A week in and there is no reason to his government. Someone should kill him.”

A pause. “What?”

“Someone should heal him.” He repeats patiently.

Weak laughter and Lady Delour gives him one of the most anxious smiles he’s seen on a fae holding a beautiful bouquet, “You are the Healer.”

Azriel stares at them, unimpressed. They stare back, twisting the cobalt ribbon wrapped around the bouquet around their gloved finger. The paper wrap crinkles as they shift and Azriel, quite reasonably, wants to rip his ears off. From behind the curtain, there’s a guttural cacophony of coughs.

“That would be our High Lord.” He eases on the door, letting it close slowly, “I shall... attend to him.”

“Please.” Gloved hands grab his pale forearm and he hates how he flinches, “Just for a moment, I need an audience with Eris. We’re old childhood friends.”

“I’ll take those for you,” Azriel says before they can speak, thoroughly bored now. He takes the bouquet of mostly blue-purple flowers which look like sweet bells folding into themselves. With one last smile, he shuts the door in their face and lets the curtain fall.

Arikan Foxglove , his shadows whisper. Psychoactive. Lethal poison. Autumn-Winter-Spring Cartel.

He hums mindlessly, plucking a few imperfect petals and rubbing them between his fingers. On the patient's bedside table, there's an empty vase, a steaming tea set and half of a medical kit. He slouches into the visitor armchair, catching sight of himself in the mirror: ears longer than a High Fae's, his skin is pale and unscarred against the white and pink Healer uniform. From his height in the chair, he knows he's been offensively glamoured to be a head shorter and perhaps worst are the gossamer wings in lieu of his leather.

It had been necessary. Azriel was needed in the Forest House during its transitory stage between High Lords as both the eyes of the Night Court and the third hand in Autumn. He'd have settled for stealth but this dreadful fortress had always foiled Azriel's plans and he wasn't sure how long he'd have to hide.

The schematics of the Forest House had remained elusive to the Prythian’s spies for as long as Azriel could remember. There had been attempts of course, that if procuring the true and original plans was a damned river run dry, drafting one’s own was the next best thing. An old Dawn Spymaster had come close- Azriel had been expected to commit it to memory as clearly as his own hand and his high lords’. If he hadn’t, he would have been persecuted, gushing blood from his wings, in the Dawn Treasury.

But even then, it was no help. The columns of the Forest House were ancient ebony trees whose roots and branches looked like the untamable and gnarled hair and limbs of screeching wood nymphs. He swore the house moved, the hallways and rooms changing like a rearranged gut. The only way to navigate the fortress with any real success was through birthright and their permission, the latter achieved through his false employment as one of Eris Vanserra's Healers.

"Should I kill them?" Azriel murmurs, watching his fingertips turn a sickening blue from the foxglove petals, "They'll have killed you before Beron's casket is closed."

There's no response, just like there hasn't been all week. Eris Vanserra, the new High Lord of Autumn, lay listless in his bed with sunken cheeks and pale skin. His bare chest was void of freckles, covered in rolls and rolls of bandages. It's hard to look at him- whether that be because Azriel has always felt sickened at the sight of the Autumn Prince or the harsh light of noon making the white sheets and his pale skin blinding.

"You have no ministry, no security, no intelligence. The only Healers in the Forest House are Beron loyalists-" Azriel counted down and then looked up, "Really, you only have me."

---///---

Eris writhes in his sleep, pulling and scratching at his wounds that took hours to clean and dress. He tosses and turns, hitting Azriel in the face with a flailing arm but the Shadowsinger almost cries of relief.

A momentary lapse of sanity and exhaustion, he reasons. Tending to Eris for the last week and a half had been like decorating a corpse for its funeral and just any sign of life- any at all, that’s all he had needed.

---///---

Azriel's fingers brushed the bandages delicately, each motion slow, deliberate. Occasionally, he'd be tempted to wrap an open would too tight, too let a needle submerge into skin before sewing the injury- but that was a habit very easily dismissed despite their centuries of mutual violence. Especially as his shadows swirled restlessly around him, anxious about the injuries in a way Azriel hadn't seen since Cassian's wings had been ripped out- since his own hands had been burnt.

Eris's wound, a massive gouge in his side, was a deep, ugly thing—raw, with jagged edges and exposed tissue. Azriel had seen worse, far worse in his life, but there was something about this wound that struck a chord in him, made him linger longer than he should. Perhaps it was because for the last five hundred years, Eris had stopped being fae and turned into an unwashable stain, an untouchable annoyance no matter what Azriel threw at him.

But now, Azriel’s gaze trailed from the wound to Eris’s face, noting the pallor, the way his features seemed too sharp, too sunken. The silence of the room had him hunched over and queasy.

His fingers trembled slightly as he began to rewrap the bandages, the sickening scent of blood and something darker filling his nose. The shadows that clung to him hissed, as though uncomfortable with the proximity to such a vulnerable Eris, yet they didn’t move, didn’t leave.

Eris, once a formidable prince, lay like a broken doll in the bed, unable to speak, unable to move, his body a testament to whatever battle had been fought before Azriel had arrived. His eyes fluttered, the lids heavy from fever, but there was something sharp in the way his gaze flickered to Azriel—a subtle challenge, a silent question.

Azriel couldn’t bring himself to look away, not now, not with the way Eris’s breath shuddered with each inhale, not with the way the autumn prince’s chest rose and fell, slow and painful. Something stirred in Azriel’s gut, something that felt almost like curiosity, like an unfamiliar kind of fascination.

“How did you let this happen to you, Eris?” Azriel muttered, his voice rougher than he intended.

Eris's lips parted, but no sound came out, just the rasping breath, the faintest flutter of his chest as he tried to move, only for pain to hold him still. His eyes, though dimmed by exhaustion and fever, met Azriel’s with something like defiance. It was familiar, that look, the one Azriel had seen so many times before, though it was now tempered by the weakness of the body beneath it.

Azriel couldn't help the way his gaze flickered back to the wound, the horror of it—of seeing the raw cavity in Eris’s flesh. It was something that Azriel would have never expected. Not from Eris. The great prince of Autumn—untouchable, always in control. But now, here he was, lying broken in front of Azriel, his body reduced to nothing more than a fragile thing in need of repair.

“I should leave,” Azriel muttered, the words slipping from his lips before he could stop them. He felt the familiar pull to step back, to retreat into the shadows, to leave Eris to whatever fate awaited him. But his feet remained rooted to the spot.

Instead of leaving, Azriel carefully adjusted the bandages, tightening the cloth around the wound, trying not to wince as he pressed against the raw tissue. His fingers were unsteady, too slow, too gentle, and his breath came too harsh as the silence stretched between them.

Eris’s eyes flickered again, this time with something more pointed, more aware.

“I never thought you’d be the one by my bedside,” Eris rasped, his voice a rough whisper. The words felt strange coming from his lips, strained, fragile, but they carried with them an edge, a defiance even in his weakened state.

Azriel glanced up sharply, his hands halting for a moment as he met Eris’s gaze.

“I’m not here because I want to be,” he growled, the edge of his voice betraying the tension building in his chest. "You left a letter."

Eris’s lips quirked, a half-smile that looked more like a grimace than anything else, but it was there.

“Funny, I’d forgotten I had even written that. That wasn’t meant for you.” He said weakly. “For someone who doesn’t want to help, you seem very invested.”

Azriel didn’t answer immediately, his gaze lingering on the wound once more. The sick fascination gnawed at him, despite his better judgment. The scar tissue, the way the wound was shaped—it was something unnatural, something cruel.

“I’m not invested,” Azriel finally said, though his words were laced with something darker. “I’m here because you’re worth more alive.”

Eris’s eyes narrowed, but there was no fire in them, no anger. Only the weariness of someone who’d been through too much, who’d survived too long, only to find himself in a position of weakness.

“If I survive this,” Eris croaked, “I’ll make sure you regret that.”

Azriel couldn't help but laugh bitterly. “Of course you will, Vanserra”

The silence stretched, thick with something between them that neither of them was willing to acknowledge. Azriel finished bandaging the wound, his hands steadying with each passing moment, but the words he had held back earlier remained heavy in his chest.

Eris shifted slightly, his lips parting again as though he were going to say something, but he stopped, his body betraying him. His eyes slid closed, exhaustion taking over, and Azriel couldn’t bring himself to move away, not yet.

“I won’t let you die,” Azriel whispered, the words slipping out before he could stop them.

Eris’s chest rose and fell in a slow, rhythmic motion, his breath shallow, but there was a flicker of something in his eyes as they opened once more, a slow, cautious glance toward Azriel.

“You’ve never cared before,” he rasped, his voice weaker now, the fight fading.

Azriel didn’t respond, only leaned back slightly, his gaze lingering on the man before him. For a moment, the room was silent, the tension between them still palpable, even if unspoken. But something had shifted. Something had changed. And Azriel wasn’t sure if he was ready to face it.

But letting Eris Vanserra die alone seemed an awful lot like losing. Losing a bet, losing a war, losing breath underwater. And even if he'd eventually have to leave, Azriel stayed.

END

#azris #azriel shadowsinger #azriel acotar #eris vanserra #eris acotar #acotar #azris supremacy #i’m just a delulu girl living in an azris world #acotar gift exchange #acotar gift exchange 2024

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compneuropapers · 1 year ago

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Interesting Papers for Week 51, 2023

The medial entorhinal cortex is necessary for the stimulus control over hippocampal place fields by distal, but not proximal, landmarks. Allison, E. A. M. A., Moore, J. W., Arkell, D., Thomas, J., Dudchenko, P. A., & Wood, E. R. (2023). Hippocampus, 33(7), 811–829.

Gating of homeostatic regulation of intrinsic excitability produces cryptic long-term storage of prior perturbations. Alonso, L. M., Rue, M. C. P., & Marder, E. (2023). Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences, 120(26), e2222016120.

An entorhinal-like region in food-caching birds. Applegate, M. C., Gutnichenko, K. S., Mackevicius, E. L., & Aronov, D. (2023). Current Biology, 33(12), 2465-2477.e7.

Stress degrades working memory-related frontostriatal circuit function. Berridge, C. W., Devilbiss, D. M., Martin, A. J., Spencer, R. C., & Jenison, R. L. (2023). Cerebral Cortex, 33(12), 7857–7869.

Distinct frequencies balance segregation with interaction between different memory types within a prefrontal circuit. Bracco, M., Mutanen, T. P., Veniero, D., Thut, G., & Robertson, E. M. (2023). Current Biology, 33(12), 2548-2556.e6.

Reward influences the allocation but not the availability of resources in visual working memory. Brissenden, J. A., Adkins, T. J., Hsu, Y. T., & Lee, T. G. (2023). Journal of Experimental Psychology. General, 152(7), 1825–1839.

Abstract Value Encoding in Neural Populations But Not Single Neurons. Fine, J. M., Maisson, D. J.-N., Yoo, S. B. M., Cash-Padgett, T. V, Wang, M. Z., Zimmermann, J., & Hayden, B. Y. (2023). Journal of Neuroscience, 43(25), 4650–4663.

The role of self-occluding contours in material perception. Marlow, P. J., Prior de Heer, B., & Anderson, B. L. (2023). Current Biology, 33(12), 2528-2534.e5.

Emergence of a predictive model in the hippocampus. Miller, A. M. P., Jacob, A. D., Ramsaran, A. I., De Snoo, M. L., Josselyn, S. A., & Frankland, P. W. (2023). Neuron, 111(12), 1952-1965.e5.

Implicit learning of the one-back reinforcement matching-mismatching task by pigeons. Peng, D. N., & Zentall, T. R. (2023). Current Biology, 33(12), 2582-2585.e2.

Neural correlates of visual and tactile path integration and their task related modulation. Rosenblum, L., Kreß, A., Arikan, B. E., Straube, B., & Bremmer, F. (2023). Scientific Reports, 13, 9913.

Meridional binocular rivalry reveals a trace of uncorrected oblique input during development in the adult brain. Serero, G., Lev, M., & Polat, U. (2023). Scientific Reports, 13, 9920.

Mice identify subgoal locations through an action-driven mapping process. Shamash, P., Lee, S., Saxe, A. M., & Branco, T. (2023). Neuron, 111(12), 1966-1978.e8.

Generalization of cognitive maps across space and time. Sherrill, K. R., Molitor, R. J., Karagoz, A. B., Atyam, M., Mack, M. L., & Preston, A. R. (2023). Cerebral Cortex, 33(12), 7971–7992.

The “curse of knowledge” when predicting others’ knowledge. Tullis, J. G., & Feder, B. (2023). Memory & Cognition, 51(5), 1214–1234.

Human orbitofrontal cortex signals decision outcomes to sensory cortex during behavioral adaptations. Wang, B. A., Veismann, M., Banerjee, A., & Pleger, B. (2023). Nature Communications, 14, 3552.

Detailed characterization of neural selectivity in free viewing primates. Yates, J. L., Coop, S. H., Sarch, G. H., Wu, R.-J., Butts, D. A., Rucci, M., & Mitchell, J. F. (2023). Nature Communications, 14, 3656.

Grid cell disruption in a mouse model of early Alzheimer’s disease reflects reduced integration of self-motion cues. Ying, J., Reboreda, A., Yoshida, M., & Brandon, M. P. (2023). Current Biology, 33(12), 2425-2437.e5.

Aperiodic neural activity reflects metacontrol. Zhang, C., Stock, A.-K., Mückschel, M., Hommel, B., & Beste, C. (2023). Cerebral Cortex, 33(12), 7941–7951.

Dyadic visual perceptual learning on orientation discrimination. Zhang, Y., Bi, K., Li, J., Wang, Y., & Fang, F. (2023). Current Biology, 33(12), 2407-2416.e4.

#neuroscience #science #research #brain science #scientific publications #cognitive science #neurobiology #cognition #psychophysics #neurons #neural computation #neural networks

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deltastuckhs · 11 days ago

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character list:

Delta kids:

Dani,gigi,cory,Kasper

Gamma kids:

Mike,lila,greg,aria

Delta/gamma trolls:

Onyx,sehrit,arikan,lalkah,seniba,bonnie,solace,janice,dallas,terrika,tamara,Sandra waltson,twigan,ballar,yummers,juzzin,premari,dallas

Future kids/epsilon kids/trolls:

Feando,Selena,maryam,parker,olivia,angie?,eggery,moby,ruvy

#homestuck

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ihtiyackredisialmak · 1 month ago

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Bakirkoy LGS Hazirlik Kursu Onerisi

Bakırköy’de eğitim kalitesi ve başarılarıyla dikkat çeken Nazmi Arıkan Fen Bilimleri Dershanesi LGS hazırlık sürecinde öğrencilere en iyi rehberliği sunan kurumlardan biri olarak öne çıkıyor. Her yıl binlerce öğrenciyi başarıya ulaştıran bu eğitim kurumu öğrencilerin akademik gelişimlerini desteklemek ve sınavda üstün başarı sağlamalarını hedeflemektedir. Bakırköy LGS dershanesi öğrencilere sınava yönelik kapsamlı bir eğitim programı sunarak sınavda karşılaşacakları tüm konulara hâkim olmalarını sağlar. Öğrencilerin başarılarına odaklanan bu eğitim kurumunda dersler uzman öğretmenler tarafından verilmekte olup her öğrenciye bireysel çalışma programları hazırlanır. Bu sayede öğrenciler kendi potansiyellerini en üst düzeyde kullanma fırsatı bulur.

Nazmi Arıkan Fen Bilimleri Dershanesi öğrencilerin sadece derslerde başarılı olmasını değil aynı zamanda sınav stresini yönetebilme becerisini de kazanmalarını hedefler. Bakırköy LGS kursu kapsamında düzenlenen deneme sınavları, öğrencilerin sınav ortamına alışmalarına ve zaman yönetimi konusunda kendilerini geliştirmelerine olanak tanır. Öğrenciler bu deneme sınavları sayesinde sınav heyecanlarını en aza indirir ve gerçek sınavda kendilerine daha fazla güven duyarlar. Bakırköy LGS hazırlık kursu öğrencilere sınav teknikleri, test çözme yöntemleri ve stratejik çalışma planları konusunda da rehberlik eder. Öğrenciler LGS’de çıkacak sorulara en iyi şekilde hazırlanırken aynı zamanda hızlı ve doğru bir şekilde soruları çözme becerisi kazanır. Dershanede verilen eğitim sadece teorik bilgiyle sınırlı kalmaz aynı zamanda pratik uygulamalar ve analizlerle desteklenir. Öğrenciler düzenli aralıklarla yapılan geri bildirimler sayesinde eksik oldukları konuları görme ve geliştirme fırsatı yakalar.

Bakırköy LGS kursu öğrencilere bireysel takip ve rehberlik hizmeti de sunarak her bir öğrencinin gelişimini yakından izler. Eğitim koçları öğrencilerin motivasyonlarını artırmak ve hedeflerine ulaşmaları için onlara sürekli destek olur. Bu kişisel rehberlik öğrencilerin motivasyonlarını yüksek tutmalarını ve sınav sürecinde daha verimli çalışmalarını sağlar. Bakırköy’de LGS hazırlık sürecinde öğrencilerine en kapsamlı ve kaliteli eğitimi sunan Nazmi Arıkan Fen Bilimleri Dershanesi geleceğin başarılı bireylerini yetiştirmeye devam ediyor. Hem akademik hem de kişisel gelişimlerine önem veren bu kurum, öğrencilerin sınavda başarılı olmasının yanı sıra onları gelecekteki eğitim hayatlarına da en iyi şekilde hazırlar. Bakırköy LGS dershanesi öğrencilerine sadece bir sınav hazırlık kursu sunmakla kalmaz aynı zamanda onların geleceğine yatırım yapar. Bilgi için www.abdegitimkurumlari.com/bakirkoy-nazmi-arikan-fen-bilimleri-dershanesi tıklayabilirsiniz.

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guncelisilanlarin · 1 month ago

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Bakirkoy LGS Hazirlik Kursu Onerisi

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uretimrehberi · 1 month ago

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Bakirkoy LGS Hazirlik Kursu Onerisi

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moderncantamodelleri · 1 month ago

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Bakirkoy LGS Hazirlik Kursu Onerisi

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uygulamakodlamak · 1 month ago

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Bakirkoy LGS Hazirlik Kursu Onerisi

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forum-storyteller · 1 year ago

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ARIKANE MILLARES

Edad: 19 años Genero: Femenino Orientación: Lesbiana PB: Personaje original

──☆Ficha de personaje｡ﾟ: *.

──☆Cronología｡ﾟ: *.

Arcana de la fortuna, esta persona user tal vez es la persona más desafortunada que conozco. Ha ido de casa en casa gracias al sistema de hogares temporales, al cumplir los 18 se la desterró hacia la calle. Arikane esta llena de fuego, un enojo hacia el mundo que proyecta hacia afuera en ondas de calor, ondas que claramente gritan una advertencia 'no te acerques'

Estatus: inactivo

#personajes #foroactivo #persona: innocent souls #Arikane Millares

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veritabaniolusturmak · 1 month ago

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Bakirkoy LGS Hazirlik Kursu Onerisi

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termodinamikyasalari · 1 month ago

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Bakirkoy LGS Hazirlik Kursu Onerisi

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susbitkileribakimi · 1 month ago

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Bakirkoy LGS Hazirlik Kursu Onerisi

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sinemahaberleriniz · 2 months ago

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Bakirkoy LGS Hazirlik Kursu Onerisi

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