![]() Powerful minds being used by/for good and evil. Fascinating demonstrations of how physical strength doesn’t always rely on the physical bit. The added benefit of 2 Very Cool magical Pinkertons wielding one of the sickest arcane items I have ever heard described in D&D. All the flavor injected into every single interaction, like Ashton straight up yeeting shade creepers about, then basking in the splatter and pain of their explosive demise. Fearne’s round 1 game-changing moment of pure controller badassery. An enormous psychic slug modded with brumestone underglow, Tokyo Drifting around the nest’s family room. You were going to fuck it into him and make him learn what his place was. He was your husband and you had the right to dictate who spent time around him. His cute whimpers while you fuck him only sounded for you to hear. His body, his heart, and his life were all yours to dictate. He moaned for you, “please go harder”, and “thank you, y/n.” He sounded so vulnerable under you that it made you feel drunk. His blue eyes glowed even as they rolled into the back of his head and his mouth hung open as he let out prayers. Oooh, his eyes were just the prettiest sight you’ve ever gotten to see. They bloomed into purple splotches on his skin and complimented his pretty tear-filled eyes. His neck was covered in love bites and hickeys. He just sounded so cute trying to catch his breath as you played with his body. His ass took the toy with no issue, you spent maybe an hour just prepping him so that he was completely comfortable and then spent another 20 minutes getting him breathless. His breathing was shallow but you made sure to not go too fast. He looked so pretty laying down, his legs over your shoulders as you thrust the strap on into his puckered hole. These book club meetings have become our haven. It is a struggle to keep the spirit of the women of Herat alive. We also read books written by people who lived through the second world war, as we can all identify with those survivors. We choose books that are available to us in Afghanistan but also say something wider about the world, many about the hardships women have had to ensure through history – what they did to make those days bearable. Some of us try to meet every two weeks to discuss and critique world literature. Now we have over 40 members from all walks of life, and hold discussions on Telegram. We hold our meetings in secret, but soon others heard about what we were doing. The first book we chose was a Persian translation of The Clown, a 1963 novel by the German writer Heinrich Böll. Two months into the Taliban rule in Herat, myself and four friends decided to form a book club. I come from a family of poets and writers, and I have a master’s degree. In the darkest moments and when there is no hope, we tried to follow a path that can never be closed, and it is the path of books. It keeps repeating and repeating in front of my eyes when I try to sleep. I have to pass the place where the bomb exploded to get to my doctor appointments, and every time I feel the vehicle shaking, the heat of the explosion and the sound of people screaming. But the psychological wounds are also deep. I’ve gone through five surgeries and can’t go to the bathroom or dress myself without help. The pain of my injuries has been excruciating. ![]() ![]() Now, after the attack, I live in constant fear. After the Taliban took over, things were hard but I continued my work and was determined to live bravely. When the bomb went off, everything changed for me. I was wounded in my leg and chest, and my friend in her right leg. We later found out that many people were killed. Since the Taliban took control, security has deteriorated and our bus had been bombed by IS militants. ![]() We found ourselves in the middle of carnage. My friend and I were chatting on the bus on the way to work in the Hazara Shia neighbourhood of west Kabul when suddenly the world around us exploded. ![]()
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