“You weren’t at the funeral...Yağmur didn’t cry at all, did you know? It was as if she was postponing it, like she didn't just bury her mother. I think she couldn’t understand what was happening to her.
Someone close to her needed to say, “Your mother died, Yağmur.” Her dad left and she ran to you...maybe she wanted to hear what happened from you. Maybe then she would have believed it.” - Naz to Akgün (ep. 23)
this is so mundane of me lol but i never know what to do with my hands whenever i’m walking so i make sure to wear outerwear that has pockets so i don’t have to worry about that and i’ve always wondered what jakurai does with his hands since his overcoat doesn’t have any pockets
over the years i just assumed he had them free swinging going about but apparently???? according to the vr anime he puts them in his pants pockets???? like i was so startled lol sensei just never seemed the type to put his hands in his pockets ever to me and yet he is lol
#this is vee speaking #i like to think about what mundane habits characters have which is why the vr battles are cool #they actually give them little mundane habits lol #chalk it up to whatever undiagnosed mental illness i probably have but a good chunk of the characters have stimming habits lol #like kuukou in my head will start lightly tugging on his conversational partner’s clothes #and will take their hand and start idly playing with them #that kind of thing lol #sensei has always just had his arms swinging or crossed while walking in my head for years bruh lmao #it’s so mundane but it’s just a hc i’ve had forever so i’m literally like 🤯🤯🤯
[Part 3/4] One kid even managed to stay unaccounted for 2 years, until he finally came clean, hoping to learn what had happened to all his friends.
Prompt by @oc-growth-and-development
#if you cant tell: theres no neck. his arms and legs are also large along with not having shoulders. #but its hidden by his clothes and passed off as them being oversized #oc-tober#spud's avatyl#spud's ocs#spud's art #kilu spud oc #also kilu uses he/they/she pronouns i just didn't want to excessively shove them in awkwardly into the sentence
NRC onderzoek bevestigt actieve rol Marokko in moskeeën
NRC onderzoek bevestigt actieve rol Marokko in moskeeën
Het NRC heeft onthuld dat sommige gemeenten geheime infiltraties in Nederlandse moskeeën lieten organiseren. NTA, een bureau dat ‘gespecialiseerd is in radicalisering’ voerde deze opdrachten uit. De onthulling veroorzaakt veel ophef binnen de moslimgemeenschap. Sommige politieke partijen hebben aangekondigd Kamervragen te zullen stellen.
Ook Marokko actief in moskeeën
De uitgevoerde geheime…
This is 100% one of my favorite tropes ever: ONE BED. And with Bucky? fuck me running. I'm ready to die and go to heaven. Also on ao3.
Warnings/Tags: 18+, MINORS DNI, spanking, fingering, p in v, dirty talking, creampie,
“You have got to be shitting me.” I cursed under my breath as the humvee pulled up to the outpost. We had been traveling most of the day on makeshift roads, slowly making our way up through the treeline to base camp and I was miserable. I was cold. I was tired. I was bored. I had done all of the easy puzzles in my sudoku book, and I couldn’t figure out the rest. There was no radio in the humvee, and even if there had been, I doubted we would be able to pick anything out.
It wouldn’t have been so bad if my “chaperone” had said more than three fucking words to me the entire time. Somehow he managed to make me feel like a burden and completely invisible at the same time. It wasn’t fair, but I was pretty sure it was intentional. It seemed like everyone but him knew that I had a crush on him, and I would bet money that was the reason why we had been sent on assignment together.
“That’s ‘the outpost’? I mean, I knew we weren’t going to be staying at a Hilton but - fuck, man - that looks like Baba Yaga’s hut.” I gestured wildly to the small structure in front of us and was met with a blank stare. “What? You never heard of Baba Yaga? Ogress? Fuckin’ cooks people and eats ‘em and -”
“You speak all those languages, and you choose to spew profanities.” My reluctant companion rolled his eyes before shutting off the vehicle and leaving me behind as he trudged through the snow to what I was pretty sure was a haunted house at the very least. The humvee had only been off for a few seconds, but it was quickly chilling without the heater on. I had no other choice but to scurry along after Bucky.
He moved quickly. By the time I stumbled in the door, stomping snow off my boots, he had already started a fire. Immediately I went to it, pulling my layers of gloves off and holding my hands out towards it. I sighed as I felt the feeling creep back into my cold hands. With one part of my body now warm, the rest of me demanded it as well. I toed off my boots and stripped out of my snowsuit and kicked it out of the way, luxuriating in front of the fire, soaking up the heat like a lizard on a rock, basking in the sun.
“Don’t worry. I’ll get the rest.” Rife with sarcasm, Bucky had brought in our things and was turning around for another trip to the humvee to retrieve equipment. Any feelings of guilt I had were melted by the extravagant decadence of the hot fire. If he had wanted help, he could have asked for it, but that would have involved speaking to me. The weather was frigid enough; he didn’t need to be so cold.
When he returned, a gust of cold air filled the room. Bucky kicked the door close, set the bags down and complained under his breath about the cold.
I watched him over my shoulder as he stomped the snow off his boots and tossed his wool toque onto the table. “Aren’t you the Winter Soldier?” I layed a heavy emphasis on the season. “Shouldn’t you be used to this? I am from Texas. The weather doesn't do this god awful thing in Texas. You might be used to this, but I am not.” I refused to apologize for being cold, even if it was making me irrationally irritable.
“It’s almost -30° out.”
I shrugged at his question. “How would I know that?”
“You realize I spent the last several years in Africa - where it’s hotter than Texas?” He dropped the case he was carrying and glared.
“Wakanda isn’t Africa. Wakanda is….” I turned back to the fire and struggled to find the right words. “Wakanda is more civilized than Texas. It doesn’t count.” I dismissed his logic carelessly.
Bucky scoffed while tossing his snowsuit coat and the thick jacket he wore underneath it onto the table on top of his toque. He was handsome - offensively handsome - with a jaw I wanted to press a kiss to and a body I wanted to climb like a tree. The man could have been wearing a clown suit and a rainbow wig, and I’d still want him. I didn’t want to spend the assignment fighting with him.
I swallowed my pride and apologized for being such a brat during our trip. “I get mouthy when I get nervous.”
“It’s okay. It’s kind of cute.” The barest hint of a smile tugged at his lips, and my stomach flip-flopped. “You'll get less nervous the more you do this.” He misunderstood. I wasn’t nervous about the assignment. I was nervous because of my crush on him.
Bucky joined me at the fire, peeling off his own gloves and setting them on the worn, wooden mantle. He held his right hand out to warm it as I had, but his left arm stayed by his side. I had seen flashes of his metal arm briefly during our trip, but hadn’t asked any questions. We hadn’t spoken much over the last few days. I did a lot of complaining about the cold; he did a lot of brooding. Now that I was no longer cold, I was curious.
“Does it get cold?” I ventured, motioning towards his left arm with my chin.
“I mean the metal. Does the metal get cold and make your shoulder cold, too?”
He shook his head. His left hand flexed at his side, the scale-like pieces interlocking gracefully peeking out from under the cuff of his sweater.
“Can I touch it?”
Bucky looked at me as if it was the first time he’d been asked, but he held his left arm out to me nonetheless. I held his wrist and pushed his sleeves up, running my fingers over it, intrigued by how the pieces fit together and worked as one. “It’s beautiful.”
I stepped closer and pushed his sleeve up his arm to his elbow joint. Gently manipulating his arm, I stepped in front of him to get a better look. The arm was crafted beautifully, curving and sloping where muscles would have been, creating graceful lines out of vibranium. It wasn’t until my hand had crested over his shoulder, tracing the line where flesh met metal under his sweater that I realized how I had intruded on his personal space. I withdrew my hand quickly as if the arm that couldn't get cold somehow held heat and burned me.
“I’m sorry. I -” Embarrassed, I met his gaze and tried to explain. Bucky swallowed thickly and ran his tongue across his bottom lip, his blue eyes stormy and tumultuous.
“Don’t worry about it.” Bucky lifted his mechanical hand and tucked a stray lock of hair behind my ear. I shivered as his fingers grazed my neck, his eyes still set on mine.
“I won’t worry about it,” I repeated dumbly. Bucky smirked and dropped his hand; my eyelids fluttered at the loss of contact.
“Good girl.” With another ridiculous smirk, he turned back to the fire. I swayed on my feet, trying to convince myself that just because he was being nice, it wasn’t anything more than professional courtesy.
Still, I felt my cheeks and ears flushing pink. Stepping away from the fire, I gave our shelter a thorough look. It had looked bad from the outside, but the inside was both better and worse. The floors were slightly uneven. The curtains were threadbare, and the table looked wobbly, but it was warm. As I continued to look around the room, butterflies took flight in my stomach.
“Hey, Buck?” The apprehension in my voice drew him to my side.
“Yeah, doll?” The endearment spurred the butterflies into flight again. This was getting to be a problem.
I nodded my head towards the piece of furniture against the wall.
Bucky followed my line of sight, smiling deviously while he draped his arm over my shoulder. “What about it?”
“Is that the bed?” slipping out from under his arm, I sat on the edge of the bed and bounced on the mattress. I cringed as it squeaked in protest and gave a little under my weight. The metal bed was noisy, and I could feel the springs through the blanket. It looked like an antique, but not in a valuable sort of way, but more like a this was a piece of shit when it was made and it’s a piece of shit now.
The bed lurched as Bucky sat down next to me, and I grabbed onto his arm, afraid it would collapse under our combined weight. “Is this where you offer to sleep on the floor?” My voice was small. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to share a bed with him. I very much did, but I would prefer a stable bed. One with clean sheets that didn’t require a tetanus booster to sleep in.
“I’ve slept on enough floors.” His answer was sobering, and I felt bad for my joke. Given his history, it had been in poor taste.
“I’d think one would be too many for me.” I shivered and wrapped my arms around myself. The storm was picking up outside, and the temperatures were dropping. Our warm, little, witch’s hut was starting to feel colder and colder, and the trip had taken its toll on me. I closed my eyes as a yawn overtook me, and when I opened them again, Bucky was watching me. I smiled sheepishly, slightly embarrassed by how tired I felt.
If I was this tired, he had to be exhausted. Bucky had barely slept while we traveled. He was the one that had done all the work so far; I was just along for the ride. “You don’t have to sleep on the floor. I -”
“We could just pull the mattress off and stick up in front of the fire.”
I was grateful for the interruption because I didn’t know how I was going to finish that sentence. Bucky’s solution was perfectly reasonable so I nodded in agreement and helped him move the flimsy mattress. We found some extra blankets and flattened pillows in a closet and shook them out, sending dust into the air.
“We have an early start tomorrow.” Bucky groaned and plopped himself onto the mattress. His joints popped and sang out, and I smothered a smile when he glared at me. “It’s not nice to laugh at an old man, you know.” He pulled off his boots and set them to the side.
“You might be 100 years old, but you’re a super soldier. Your joints are probably in better shape than mine. I have no sympathy for you.”
Bucky clicked his tongue at me and pulled the covers out from underneath him. “Come on, doll. I won’t bite unless you ask me to.” He lifted the blankets and motioned for me to climb in and take my spot next to him.
We were going to share this dilapidated old mattress. Ok. That was fine. We could both be adults about this. I just had to keep myself from fondling him or trying to mount him in my sleep. I could do that. I would just stay on my side and do my best not make an ass of myself.
Taking a deep breath, kicked off my boots and joined him under the covers. We were being polite. Each of us kept to our own side; no limbs crossed over the imaginary border between us. We laid there in silence, listening to the wind howling outside and the logs crackling in the fireplace. During our trip, I had spent hours watching him; now I couldn’t bring myself to look at him. But I could smell him and feel the heat pouring off of him.
Several minutes crawled by with the two of us just lying in bed awkwardly - not talking, not touching. Not nothing. Bucky was the first to break.
“This is ridiculous. Come here.” Without warning, his arm went around my waist, and he tugged me backwards until our bodies collided. My breath hitched as he stretched his arm out underneath me and rested my head on his bicep. The arm around me tightened, and Bucky slid closer, tangling our legs together under the sheets.
My breath was shallow and quick, and he stole what little I had left when he nuzzled against my ear. “We will stay warmer this way.”
I accepted his logic and nodded my head in agreement, afraid to speak.
“It’s not just that...” his breath tickled my ear, and I suppressed a shudder as goosebumps erupted over my skin.
“Not just what?” I tried to roll over to face him, but Bucky’s hold on me kept me from doing so.
“I traded Clint for this assignment.” Bucky nipped at my neck then sucked on the sensitive skin.
I swallowed my gasp and sunk back against him. “You volunteered?” I thought he had been ordered to come along. I had no idea that he even knew who I was, let alone hope that he might even be interested in me.
He hummed in agreement and sent a bolt of electricity straight to my core. “I’m a little sweet on you, doll.” He kissed the side of my neck again and nuzzled closer to me.
I wetted my dry lips with my tongue, but it was dry too. This man was too charming with his old timey talk, and I was too enamored to care.
“I figured you wouldn’t mind too much.” There was a shred of vulnerability in his voice that showed his sincerity. I shook my head and admitted to the crush I had on him.
His hand around my waist moved and began stroking my hip. “Are you sure you don’t want me to sleep on the floor? I don’t think I can keep my hands to myself.”
I gasped as he rolled his hips and pressed his erection against me. “I don’t want you to.”
“What, doll?” Bucky’s hand traveled between my legs, and he cupped me through my clothes. I moved against his hand, starting to feel needy for him. “Sleep on the floor or keep my hands to myself.”
“Either one.” My voice was shaky. I wanted him badly.
“I want to touch you.” His hand dropped to my waistband, his fingertips dipping under the elastic. I knew he would find me wet and wondered if his metal hand had the capability of feeling just how soaked I was for him.
My skin was on fire where his lips kissed my neck, and a moan slipped out of me before I could stop it. Bucky took that as permission and slid his hand further into my pants, parting my slit with his fingers and rubbing me gently.
His metal hand felt cool against the slick heat of my arousal. He teased me, putting his fingers everywhere but where I wanted them to be. Needy mewls poured from my lips while I rolled my hips, frustratingly aching for more contact. Bucky pressed himself against my bottom again, and each time I rolled my hips, his cock grew harder against me. I reached out blindly behind me, wanting to get my hands on him. I wanted to touch him and drive him as crazy as he was making me.
But he had other plans.
Bucky’s mouth nipped at my ear as whispering huskily, voice growly and demanding. “Three days, doll. I didn’t touch you for three days.”
I was getting close. I grabbed onto him, my nails scratching across the plates that made up his arm. He laughed breathily in my ear, abandoning my clit to fuck me with his finger. I cried out as he moved inside of me, curling up to hit the spot inside of me that made stars explode behind my eyes.
“Do you know how hard it was to keep my hands to myself on that damn train? Every time I looked up, you were there, sucking on the end of that damn pen.” Another finger slid into me, and I frantically grabbed his wrist and ground down on his fingers.
“And today?” He pumped his fingers into me slowly, pulling moans from me while I rode his hand. “You kept looking at me like you wanted to fuck me.” His words sent me arching against him. “Do you want to be fucked, doll?” Bucky kissed his neck and scraped his teeth along the sensitive skin. I clenched around his fingers and moaned. His voice, his dirty words, and the sloppy sound of his fingers inside of me were pushing me towards a quick orgasm..
“Yes. Please, Bucky. Fuck me. Please fuck me, Bucky.” I didn’t recognize my voice as the one doing the begging. “Fuck. Don’t stop. Please. I’m so close. Oh god - right there.”
“Don’t come until I tell you. Understand?” I nodded my head fiercely and cried out when he withdrew his hand. His fingers were shiny with my wetness as he brought them up to my mouth and smeared my own juices across my lips. “Suck.”
Captivated, I opened my mouth dutifully, and he slid his fingers inside. I did as he asked and sucked his fingers clean. The taste of my own arousal mixed with the slight metallic tinge of his fingers had me desperate and dripping.
“That’s right. Good girl.” Bucky showered me with praise while I sucked on his fingers.
Removing his fingers from my mouth, he rolled me onto my stomach and moved in between my legs. Bucky pulled my pants down, growling when he saw I still had leggings and long johns on underneath. Bucky curled himself over my body and whispered into my ear while pulling the rest of my clothes down. “Keep that ass in the air for me, sweetheart.” I arched my back and presented myself to him. I was ready to follow any order he gave me if it meant he kept touching me.
Behind me, I heard the sound of a zipper and the rustling of clothes. Bucky crawled closer on his knees and spit into his hand and wet his dick with it. “I don’t think I even need this. You’re drenched.” He ran his finger through my slit again,and then I felt the warm pressure of his cockhead at my entrance. We moaned together as he pushed forward, his hands on my hips, holding me where he wanted me.
“Fuck, you’re tight. And so wet.”
My mouth was open and panting at the burning stretch of him inside of me.
“Good girl. That’s it. Look how well you take me. Like you were made for my cock.” I could barely pay attention to the praise Bucky showered on me. He felt so good inside of me, but I still wasn’t satisfied.
“More. Please, Bucky. Please?” I pleaded with him for more, my mind dizzy with sensation. I was stretched wide around him. I’d never had a man this size, and I never wanted anyone other than him again.
Hushing me gently, Buck pulled back slowly then snapped his his as he thrust forward into me. He hit deep, making me cry out. He did it again, a slow drag followed by a fast fuck. His fingers on my hips tightened, and I knew I would probably have bruises in the morning, but I didn’t care. I begged him again to go faster and give me more, and Bucky held me tightly as he began pistoning into me.
It only took a few strokes for my orgasm to build, and I tried my best to keep it at bay, but Bucky groaned my name and redoubled his efforts. My body was shaking with the impact of each thrust, and I nearly came off the bed when a hard smack landed on my buttcheek. The impact sent me clenching around him, the pain of the strike mixing with the pleasure of his cock driving me to the brink.
“I should have known a filthy mouth like yours would like to get fucked hard. You like that?” I nodded frantically, and Bucky slapped the other cheek. “Are you ready, slut? Are you ready to come for me?” I cried out my answer, and sobbed as he fucked me into the mattress. .
I was undone with one word, spasming around him. My orgasm set off Bucky’s, and he came with a ragged groan, snapping his hips against mine and pouring his come inside me. We stayed locked together, catching our breaths until he stopped pulsing inside of me. After slipping from me, Bucky pulled the layers of clothing back over my bottom and flopped down beside me.
“Keep that there,” he ordered, patting my butt. “I like knowing you’re dripping my come.”
I nodded mutely, still dazed and amazed, happy in my post orgasmic haze. Bucky called me to him, and I tucked myself back into the crook of his arm. Taking my hand in his, he kissed my palm and set it on his chest. “We should sleep,” he said. “We have an early day tomorrow.”
obsessed with how kiyru and aki both have semi similar relationship with yusei except yusei deliberately used aki’s first name & went “i need you” however! kiryu DID get to die in yusei’s arms while he cries over his body so like.
#aki gets the first name basis but kiryu gets to die homoerotically in yusei’s arms #truly it’s so funny to me #it’s like whatever the hell naruto has going on #idk i haven’t watched naruto but in my mind it’s this
#cookie run #they’re a sore loser #but also losing ur arms & being defensless is scary so like. understandable. #strawberry crepe b like >:) until they lose. then they’re jusy a *defenseles child how could you hurt me like this :
Today, on the anniversary of the Oct. 16, 1859, raid on Harper's Ferry by a band of Black and white abolitionist guerrillas led by John Brown, read Vince Copeland's important essay on the U.S. Civil War and the Black liberation struggle, "The Unfinished Revolution":
“How could twenty Black and white revolutionaries have created so much hysteria, while the organized invasion of massed Northern troops was met by a fervor of militant, self-confident, and even temporarily victorious defensism?
“The difference between the John Brown raid and the long-fought Civil War was not just in the massive character of the latter as opposed to the allegedly individualist character of the former. It wasn‘t just that the Northern army had conventional organization into companies, regiments, brigades, and so on, as opposed to the general guerrilla insurrection almost begun by Brown and Anderson.
“The real difference lay in the fact that one conceived of a slave uprising and took the first steps in that direction — while the other, although forced to free the slaves in the long run, and forced to enlist nearly 200,000 Black men in its ranks, did not at first contemplate an actual slave uprising, and, in fact, opposed it.”
Aside from the Daniels, Harrison had never properly fit in anywhere. His squad was something else, though. Another family and a home from home. Sure, he’d had Fao for a few months, only when their schedules matched up, but mainly, it was just him.
He’d fallen in love, too, a charming man with smooth words and a even more charming smile. They’d spent tours together, and when they were back in the UK, they were always together, basically inseparable. He’d even spoken to Fred about proposing to Marcus; his adoptive father helping him with his speech and organising the rings for when they got back to England. Sheila wasn’t trusted to keep the secret, having already almost spilled the news to the pair on their last video chat.
The morning was the same as most, Harrison and Marcus messing around as they ate their breakfast, and then the rest of the early hours checking their packs. They all had a long walk into the next town, an aid mission rather than recon. It was always fun when they were allowed out together, Harrison not required to stay at their base for medical support.
Even though he’d spent months out there, Harrison still struggled with the heat. As midday loomed, he grew more grumpy, only making Marcus laugh harder at him. His complaints were quickly cut short as he turned to grumble once more, and tripped over his own feet. He ended up sprawled on his arse, looking up at the rest of the lads. Of course, they all laughed at him,and he couldn’t help but join in, stretching his hand out for Marcus to help him up. Bad mood averted, they carried on, making good time.
Harrison turned to talk to Marcus, and his whole world shattered. He was unconscious by the time he hit the sand again, thrown far from the blast. He came to slowly, the pain slowing his reflexes and dumbing his thoughts. His back was on fire, as was his shoulder and jaw. His ears were still ringing, and he kept drifting in and out of consciousness. He struggled to stay awake, trying to take stock of the situation. It took him too long to realise he couldn’t feel his legs, somehow numb and burning at the same time. By the time he struggled to look, he already knew the answer. His right leg was a mess, his ankle completely gone and the rest of his lower leg shattered. Even with his head spinning, he knew he had to do something, or he’d die. Being dead wouldn’t help anyone else. Marcus. His heart dropped. He’d been right next to him when the IED had gone off, but through the dust and sand, he couldn’t see him. He tried calling out for him, but his voice caught in his throat and blood pooled in his mouth. The taste only added to the nausea, and he barely made it to his side before he threw up. Pain flared through his body again, and his head hit the sand, unconscious once more.
When he came to again, he struggled to place where he was. The pain was blinding, and he knew he was dying. He managed to make it upright, threw up with the pain again, and struggled to reach for his leg. There was too much blood around him, even with his brain not working, he knew it wasn’t good. He fought with his tourniquet, trying to wrap it around his leg with both hands obviously broken. He was sure his shoulder was broken too, and his elbow was definitely not meant to be facing that way, he was sure. As he tightened the tourniquet, he cried out, the pain growing infinitely worse. The darkness called to him, a much better, easier option than the pain of living. He fought against it, Marcus once again in his thoughts. He had to find him.
When the team got to them, it was worse than they could have expected. A walking patrol meant that they'd taken the full force of the IED, not like the vehicles that often protected their inhabitants.
Harrison was the most obviously alive, his cries carrying across to them, and they rushed over to him, their hands replacing his on the tourniquet.
“Harrison.” Matt greeted, voice breathless. “We've got you now, Tomcat. We're gonna look after you. You're gonna be alright.”
His relief was quickly overshadowed by the increased pain as they tightened the tourniquet. He whined, his hand grabbing at Matt's before it all overwhelmed him and he slipped under.
“It's alright. We've got you.” He soothed, though he was somewhat relieved as Harrison slipped unconscious. It would make things easier, at least. He wasn't in a good way, that was plain to see. As he started his assessment things just got worse and worse. The whole of his right side was a state, more blood than anything else. It made it virtually impossible to really see any other injuries. Really they had no choice but to get him as is and back to base where they had scans and could fully assess the state of his injuries.
They didn't mess about, prepared for things to go south quickly. It would be just their luck.
"Where's Marcus?" Harrison slurred as he came round again. "Please, I need him."
“We're looking for him.” It wasn't a lie, but they weren't necessarily expecting to find him alive.
They'd obviously given him something for the pain, and it was getting harder to focus. He fought against them as they tried to help. He screamed as they set his leg, his back arching. He slipped once more, calling for Marcus.
They apologised as he screamed, topping up his pain relief as they continued to stabilise him. The state of his chest worried them, but if he was screaming, he was breathing. They just needed to get him back.