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okuhle23 · 1 year

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ASTROLOGY OBSERVATIONS- 019

Hi guys, I'm back with more astrology observations!!

If you'd like a paid reading, 👉click here 👈

If you would like to check out my other astrology observations, check me out at @okuhle23 .

☆People with Venus in Capricorn/ Venus conjunct Saturn age so beautifully. This placement may mean that you start putting more effort in how you look at a older age. It may also mean that you may experience a later glowup. This is because Saturn represents aging and delays while Venus rules beauty.

☆Leo rules hot and humid air, so countries ruled by Leo may experience very hot summers. Examples include: Afghanistan, India, Zanzibar, Chad, Indonesia, Malaysia, Maldives, and Pakistan.

☆People with Moon/Virgo in the 6th may really love animals, and may be really attached to their own pets if they have any.

☆People with Neptune in the 1st may constantly experience people making assumptions about them based on how they look or dress. Neptune rules assumptions and the 1st house shows your appearance. This placement can also indicate being idealized by people who don't even know you well, these people are like a fantasy to others.

☆Neptune conjunct Mars/Pluto can make you appear rather sexual and promiscuous, you may also have many secret admirers. This is because Neptune represents illusions and Pluto/ Mars represents sex and things related to sex

☆Venus in the 3rd may date people in their neighbourhood, or their partners live very close to them. This is because Venus represents love/romantic relationships, while the 3rd house represents your local community.

☆Pluto or Scorpio in the 5th/7th house can mean that you prefer to keep your love life private. You probably don't like to show off your partner. You may also get extremely jealous if other people flirt with your partner. This is because Pluto/Scorpio represents secrets and jealousy while the 5th and 7th house shows ones relationships (5th house=casual relationships and 7th house=long-term relationships)

☆People with Neptune in the 1st/ 10th are be goofy as hell, some people may even view you as weird😂. This is because Neptune rules abnormal behavior, while the 1st and 10th house show how others see you.

☆People with Mars in the 6th/10th house may have dangerous jobs, or you may risk getting hurt on the job quite often(either burning yourself, or constantlyclimbing up high things). If you have an office job you may find that your colleagues see you as competition, and therefore treat you with hostility. This is because Mars rules danger, abrasions and hostility while the 6th and 10th houses represent your job.

☆Where Uranus is placed in you chart can show your aura, this is because Uranus rules auras:

▪︎ Uranus in the 1st: your aura colour is red❣️. You come off as strong, fierce and confident. Perhaps you've been told that you're intimidating at times, and you're also really competitive.

▪︎ Uranus in 2nd: your aura colour is green💚. You come off as beautiful, wealthy and at times, stubborn😭. You have a calming aura to you, you can reconnect with your true self by going into nature.

▪︎ Uranus in the 3rd: your aura colour is yellow💛. You are energetic, like to travel and explore different places and you are intellectual. Your aura is sometimes quite scattered, and may change often because of your changeable energy.

▪︎ Uranus in the 4th: your aura colour is white🤍. You are caring, kinda introverted and loyal. You aura can change often based on your emotions.

▪︎ Uranus in the 5th: your aura colour is gold🪙. You are loyal, proud and you have royal energy. People may view you as luxury loving, you like being spoiled.

▪︎ Uranus in the 6th: your aura colour is emerald green🌲. You are grounded, kind but sometimes a bit too self-critical (you pretty asf babe). People may view your energy as really stable and 'neat'. It may be hard to read your energy because you're good at putting up a front.

▪︎ Uranus in the 7th: your aura colour is pink 💗. You are loving, romantic and beautiful. You may be a very cooperative, non-confrontational person and may be viewed as submissive by others.

▪︎ Uranus in the 8th: your aura colour is black 🖤. You are mysterious, intimidating and you are very loyal. You radiate sensual, seductive energy.

▪︎ Uranus in the 9th: your aura colour is orange🧡. You are outgoing, energetic and social. You may be viewed as a very busy person, always travelling or doing something.

▪︎ Uranus in the 10th: your aura colour is brown🤎. You are hardworking, confident(girlboss💸 ), and you really enjoy money. People may view you as bring really serious and you don't play about your money.

▪︎ Uranus in the 11th: your aura colour is blue💙. You are innovative, unique and intelligent. Your energy doesn't just fit into one category, one second you could be energetic and the other, you're lazy asf.

▪︎ Uranus in the 12th: your aura colour is purple💜. You are artistic, empathic and ethereal. You may be overly compassionate, so be careful of people who want to manipulate your energy.

☆Venus-Pluto hard aspects (square, opposition) can mean that other women hate on you out of jealousy or envy. This is because Pluto can show malice/ jealousy while Venus represents females.

☆Venus in the 3rd can indicate that you'll meet your future lover in your neighborhood. Or your partners may live close to you. This is because Venus rules love and romantic relationships while the 3rd house can represent the neighborhood you grew up in.

☆Ruler of the 1st house in the 2nd house can mean that you just look rich, or people assume that you're wealthy because of how you look or the clothes and accessories you wear. This is because the 1st house rules your appearance and first impressions and 2nd house can represent luxury and wealth. You may spend a lot of money on your looks (skincare, clothing, makeup etc).

Thank you for getting to the end 😊.

If you'd like a paid reading, 👉click here 👈

If you would like to check out my other astrology observations, check me out at @okuhle23

x Okuhle ❤️

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virgincels · 5 months

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HONEYTRAP !

ft. leon s. kennedy x reader x ashley graham

tags. p in v, threesome, president leon, daddy-daughter incest (ashley/leon not reader), voyeurism, oral

note. haiii :3 sorry for mistakes it’s unedited! not the proudest of this! got messy and clunky 😭 but rbs and feedback always so appreciated :3

tumblr has started to remove fics that for example use tw non-con and any nsfw tags in general from the tags. for this reason, as i’d like my fic to appear in the tags, please understand that this fic contains dark content under the cut. reading this comes at your own risk.

“No, babe, it’s online, you can watch it, and can you tell Chris to watch it? I’m excited, I know he’s not happy about it, but, I am,” Claire’s voice is obfuscated by the chatter in the background, “This is a big deal for me, I mean—“ She cuts herself off, voice distant, “Oh, yes— No, not at all, it’s lovely to meet you—“

Beep!

You blink at your phone. She hung up on you. Granted, she’s been one busy bee so you let her off. For now. You shoot a message to Chris, tell him that as Claire said, this means a lot to her, and as tight as he is with the Kennedys, that she’s his sister, she should come first. You’re well aware that he knows that, that he wouldn’t dare put anyone above his sister, she’s at the centre of his world - it’s just for good measure.

The interview is lengthy, you suppress a groan because really you should very much be interested in the state of current affairs. And this is Claire’s line of work, and Claire is your girlfriend, and you should support her in her endeavours. Clicking on the link she’s forwarded opens up a grayscale website. The first video is President Kennedy in all his glory, which is not a lot of glory to be quite frank. He’s an eyesore to you. Like, that chin? Seriously? He should consider some sort of medical procedure, you don’t know if that’s a thing, but you know a girl who got her cleft lip fixed, so why not the chin?

Most of the video is full to the brim with political jargon that you fail to understand. Completely different language. Could understand Morse code better than this.

Skip, skip, skip.

“The issue with Penamstan? I hate to be rude, Mr. Kennedy,” No, she does not, Claire loves to be rude, “But do you know where that is on a map?” Claire, always straight to the point.

“I know all the stans,” President Kennedy smiles, charming and stupidly stupid all at once. He’s kind of cute when he smiles. It’s really just that chin. Very American though, you’ll give it to him. Named Kennedy too? America loves a Kennedy, he had it easy.

“What?” Not even an excuse me.

“Pakistan, Afghanistan, Kazakhstan, Penamstan… The, uh, more forgettable stans,” He trails off, taken off guard by a woman in a pantsuit leaning down to talk to him, a hand cupped over her mouth, he blinks up at her slowly, “Uz-beki-stan,” President Kennedy sounds out as if the word is foreign on his tongue, and it is, so incredibly foreign, “Turk… Turkmenistan, and Penamstan, of course.”

That’s all you needed to know he has the brain density of a wafer. Was the most interesting part though. He would’ve made a good stripper or a boy-toy, you think. Instead, he’s being marketed as this all-encompassing package of a man, which he is not.

Skip, skip, skip.

Penamstan— Foreign Policy— Penamstan— Voting— Penamstan— Radicalisation— Terrorism— Your predecessor, Graham— Sexual relations— Gaffe—

You pause, rewind a minute or so back. Sexual relations. This is what you’re into. No idea who Monica Lewinsky is, know all about the dress though.

“You’ve heard of the accusations, yes?” Claire frowns so much like Chris you have to turn away.

President Kennedy’s lack of jaw tightens, and it’s the first time you’ve seen him behave so offstandish in the fourteen minutes you’ve ever seen of him. “Yes.”

“You didn’t like that,” Claire notes, her lip twitching upwards.

“Didn’t know we had a psychologist with us today,” His lips are stretched thin into a smile that resembles a grimace more than anything. There’s scattered laughter, and the lady beside him, poised as ever, taps him on the shoulder. “My apologies,” He straightens up immediately, “Ask away.”

“Thank you,” She responds coolly when she is anything but, “You- I mean you have to admit that it’s strange to behave that way with your daughter of all people, otherwise there wouldn’t be accusations in the first place,” Claire challenges him with a tilt of her head, he mirrors it.

The lady taps his shoulder once more, leans down once more, whispers conspicuously, they nod to each other. A gesture to someone behind the camera is made, and then, much to Claire’s clear dismay: “We’re sorry to cut this short—“

The video ends, and the opening frame pops up once more. Huh. So President Kennedy is tonguing his daughter on the side. Maybe you need to pay more attention to things that are actually important, or you need to listen to Claire more often unless she’s failed to mention the most interesting part of whatever case she’s building. As far as you’re concerned, if voting doesn’t go in the red, you’re fine. Claire says being a centrist is the worst thing you can be, it’s just that you’ve got your own shit to worry about. Work, college, Claire, family. It takes up your life. You pitch in to vote for whoever’s democratic, watch the descent into chaos and forget about it in a week as most do, an attempt to forget the state of the country.

You wonder what she looks like. His daughter. If it’s worth risking the presidency over incest she must be a cutie. And she is indeed, cute like a teacup terrier, you can see why he’d be balls deep— but that is purely because you’re a bit of a horndog. Harvard Law School, a privilege you’re sure, girl looks like a total ditz. Barbie doll legs, the palest of blondes, and her smile is adorable. Not like her father’s smarmy one in the slightest, sweet and genuine for a girl whose teeth look done. Braces? Veneers? Not a single gap between them, not a single one out of place, not a single one is coffee stained.

The headlines pretty much say the thing. Kennedy fucks his daughter. Kennedy said she reminds him of Marilyn, so what does that make him if he’s a Kennedy? Truly, they harp on about it with no proof, apart from that photo of them too close for comfort— And the other one where they’re too close for comfort— And the last one where they’re too close for comfort.

Claire returns in the early hours of the morning, her jacket squeaks when she takes it off, hanging it the back of the vanity chair. She gets into bed, touches your hand to check if you're awake, her eyes sparkle even in the dark when she asks, “Did you see it?”

“Mhm,” You pinch her doughy cheek when she grins, “I’m so proud of you.”

“Thank you,” Claire says, head dipping to rest in the hollow of your neck, “I got cut off at the last minute.”

“I saw… He got touchy about the daughter-fucker thing.”

“He always does,” She huffs out air through her nose, “Only people who fuck their daughters get defensive when people accuse them of fucking their daughters. Oh, and his wife, she doesn’t go to a single event, it’s always Ashley, Ashley, Ashley— it’s so fucking strange.”

“True,” Your fingers slip beneath the loops of her hair tie, loosening her ponytail, sometimes you fear it’ll come off clean with how tight she makes it. It’s like Claire’s intention is to recede her hairline on purpose. “What can you do though, right?”

Her lack of response is eerie, you pass it off as her falling asleep. She’s had a long day, an exciting one at that, Claire’s likely just crashing. So you kiss her head, let her nestle into your chest, the spot where she’s most comfortable.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Giving your girlfriend the benefit of the doubt when she’s putting you up to the most outrageous scheme quite possibly ever is hard. “I have work, Claire.”

“Work can wait, babe, this is seriously important, it means a lot for America’s future,” Ugh, you don’t like when she talks like that. Sounds like a propaganda poster come to life.

“I don’t care about America’s future, I care about mine, babe, I care about ours, I don’t think Kennedy fucking his kid has anything to do with America’s future.”

“Babe, America’s future is our future,” She insists, “I won’t ask of you ever again,” Claire clasps her hands together, kneels in front of you as if you’re in fresco on the ceiling of a half-painted chapel, as if Claire Redfield, famous and outspoken atheist activist is the most pious woman to set foot in the USA.

“I have work, I have to get ready, I don’t have time for this.”

“See, this is what I mean, you’re so—“ Before her frustration reaches its boiling point, you watch Claire mouth the words one, two, three and onwards to fifteen. “Baby, darling,” She cups your cheeks, “This would mean the world to me when I say I would never bother you again with my shit, I promise. Pinky swear.”

“Don’t call me darling,” You wriggle out of her grip, “I can’t risk another day off, Claire.”

“There’s an opening in the office,” She offers, “It’s not much, but it’s better than what you’re doing now.”

“How so?” Your interest is piqued.

“Desk job,” Claire shrugs, “It’s easy, babe, you’re smart, too smart for retail.”

“I am too smart for retail,” You agree with a sigh, it keeps you on your feet all day, then you end up blowing your paycheck on pedicures.

“You are,” She coos, kissing the back of your hand as if you’re the most delicate thing since butterflies, “And you’ll do so well, that’s why I want you to do it, babe, ‘cause I just know you’re the only one who could do it,” Flattery does get Claire somewhere, it gets her in your good books, “The, uh, you don’t mind the, uh, y’know, incest part.”

“He’s not my dad, she’s not my sister.” Detaching yourself from the incestuous element would be best, you don’t know if you have a strong enough stomach to handle it in any other way.

“You can’t kiss me,” Claire frowns, her professional face on, “From now on, we can’t be seen with each other, okay?”

“Babe,” You pout, she scowls, “You look so good tonight, I don’t want to leave you.” The notched lapels of her suit make her shoulders look broader, you want to drag your nails over the cashmere, over her tender skin.

“Your name is on the guest list,” Your alias, she means, you don’t know how she did it, but Claire manages to manage, “Please…” Don’t fuck this up for me, you assume, “Good luck, okay?”

The security process is tedious, they drone on and on about a topic in which you have no knowledge, they pat you down— Should they be doing this to someone who might be an esteemed guest?

You pass through, the crowd is full of beautiful girls with made-up faces and dark ringlets and dresses like wedding cakes. There’s less than savoury men. She doesn’t stand out in a crowd like this, but you spot her anyway. Nobody in their right mind would wear that shade of orange. Ashley Kennedy, according to your girlfriend, is fucking her father, and so she is clinically and mentally and psychically and biologically and any other ally insane. So, yes, she would wear rust orange proudly, she would go out of her way to purchase a floor-length evening gown in that exact colour. Just to prove that, yes, she is indeed fucking her dad. Would calling it quits at this very moment be justifiable to Claire? Would your reasoning be enough to accuse a girl of fucking her father?

To your utter astonishment, both Mrs and Miss Kennedy approach you first, both as in Ashley. As she is both his wife and daughter if Claire’s deduction is correct.

“Hi,” Ashley’s smile is as perfect as it was in the tabloids, her skin is dewy, and her lashes light with no attempt to darken them. It would look unnatural.

“Hi,” You grin back at her, focus on the pendant that swings low, a silver eagle that sits cushdy between her perky tits.

“Daddy told me I had to—“ Her face drops for a split second, “Oops,” She covers her mouth, swallows back a nervous giggle, “Dad told me I had to socialise, make connections,” She imitates his formalities, “Oh, gosh, I am totally being so rude right now!” Ashley waves her hands at you, “My daddy- Dad is the president, sorry to come onto you like that like you were supposed to know, gosh, I’m Ashley by the way.”

“I know,” You take her hand in yours when she offers it, squeeze it warmly, “Don’t sweat it, I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t know you.”

“Right, right, I guess that’s true,” She hiccups, “Sorry, god, champagne, I’m so new to drinking, I really don’t think it’s for me.” This girl is making it too easy for you.

“You just haven’t tried the right one, I love your dress by the way, colour brings out your eyes.” Like how grass brings out the pumpkins on a pumpkin patch.

“Oh my goodness, thank you!” Ashley follows after you, lost and clinging to the person she has deemed friendliest.

“Have you ever had a French martini?”

“Oh, no, what’s that? It sounds exotic.” She’s bubbly, excitable, so sweet you almost feel bad setting her up like this.

“Do you like pineapple?”

Ashley ponders, “Only juice, eating pineapple eats at my tongue, I totally know that’s what it does, but still it feels so weird.”

“You’ll like this then.” You assure her, and she bobs her head up and down in agreement, her trust for you is unconditional within five minutes flat. Claire deserved that spot at Harvard.

“There’s vodka in it,” She hums, “Daddy,” Her third slip-up of the night, “Dad doesn’t even let me near vodka.”

“Really?” You raise a brow, then your glass and she does the same.

“Never, he sucks when it comes to me doing, like, adult things,” Her nose twitches at the first sip, she reminds you of a bunny, an energiser bunny.

“Like what?”

“Drinking, driving, partying,” Ashley lists off, “He’s okay, but he’s protective, I know it comes with, like, president’s daughter territory, it just totally sucks!”

Drinking, driving, partying— Dad doesn’t mind when she’s doing adult things like sucking his dick though. That’s not a problem!

“I like you,” Ashley says, two French martinis and one cosmopolitan in, “You’re so fun, I don’t really get to meet people other than, like, the one daddy introduces me to. Don’t get me wrong, I get it, I’m privileged so I talk to privileged people, but they’re so…”

“Stuck up,” You finish for her, “I didn’t expect you to be so sweet.”

“Oh, I can see why, I get it, I’m not offended or anything,” She sighs softly, gazes at the chandelier as if she longs for more than ball gowns and Havard and spending her days shifting idly through the clothing racks at Dolce & Gabbana while her daddy lounges on the chaise chairs. “I just think you’re so down to earth,” Poor thing, it’s a shame she’s fucking her dad, you hope to uncover an entirely different truth, that they’re close and it’s nothing more, “Who did you come with by the way?”

“I’m a plus one,” You knock back your drink, grip tightening on the glass, “No one important, just lucky, I guess.”

“Huh,” Ashley takes in your words, she nods, another drink slips down easily, and by the end of it, she is clinging to your arm like you mean the world to her, “You should sooo come back to my room!” Her words slur until her sentence is more of a single word, “We could have fun,” Whether she’s soliciting sex or she wants your company, you don’t mind, “Me and daddy are staying here tonight.”

“Really?” You ask, as if Claire hadn’t briefed you on the room number prior to this, “Then I guess I wouldn’t mind coming.”

“Yay!” Her security detail emerge from the crowd, and you’re dumb for not having noticed them beforehand, but what Ashley says goes. “Gosh, you don’t have to tell, daddy, he’s busy right now. No, we’ll be fine, you can leave us to it, when daddy’s done then he’ll come up.”

An elevator ride up and up and up to the top floor, through the stretch of hall to the finest suite. Ashley is high energy, for a lack of better words, she is tiring. She kicks off her heels, still stands tall, modelesque in shape. Boyish hips jutting out of her square torso. The key card is left on the side when she’s not paying attention, which luckily for you is most of the time, you slide it beneath the door frame and shoot a text to Claire who is hovering nearby. A minute later, she confirms her success.

“Ugh, I was so over it,” Ashley groans, “Do you mind helping me out of this?”

“Of course not,” You say smoothly, wondering if this is an invitation to something more. The silk of her dress is made by the wealthiest of silkworms, just as you get your hands on her, the door unlocks.

“Ashley,” President Kennedy is panting like he ran up all twenty-nine flights of stairs at the Fairmont, “Princess, you worried me.”

“Daddy, you scared me, you scared us,” She gasps, he’s swift in his steps, tips her chin upwards as if he’s checking for damage on her angel face, he thumbs her smeared lipstick.

“Did you kiss… Did you?” Kennedy’s eyes flit from your lips to Ashley’s, you wonder why he’s so wound up about a kiss, must be the incest. Her lipstick is smeared on the rim of her martini glass, not your lips.

“What? Daddy, no, don’t be silly, not yet at least,” She makes her intentions clear, “I thought you were busy, daddy.”

“Ashley, I’m not too busy for you, I have things to oversee, but…”

As your father, I have to oversee your sex life, Ashley! I demand to watch!

“But, what?” Ashley cocks her head to the side, her hands running along the shape of his shoulders, then downwards over his chest.

“You’re more important, you know that.” Kennedy strokes her head, she bats her lashes at him, they’re barely visible so it’s more a flurry of blinks.

“Oh, daddy, you’re so sweet,” She giggles, puckers her lips and the sentiment is shared between them— They kiss like lovers do, dirtier than you and Claire. Unaffected, Ashley looks over his shoulder at you, “We can still have fun,” She promises, “Daddy can just watch, won’t you?”

Jesus Christ. Now that you’re actually faced with it. Incest in the flesh. It’s nerve-wracking. How is one meant to digest incest?

“Ashley, I don’t watch you catching anything nasty,” He tries to be discreet, you hear him loud and clear.

“Daddy,” She scolds, hitting his chest. He shucks off his suit jacket, laying it out on the back of the chair adjacent to the Alaskan king bed that could fit a family of five let alone the three of you. He sits, stares at you with his glassy eyes. President Kennedy is handsome in real life, you kind of get the appeal now, the camera does add ten pounds, ages him by ten years too apparently. There is something about him that is effortlessly masculine yet soft, sweet almost.

Ashley’s dress comes off next, she cares little for the way it is left wrinkled on the ground, her hand finds its way between your thighs. She’s not inexperienced. She knows her way around your body like she would her father’s. Her fingers are long and slim, nimble when the pads come to ghost your clit, lifting back the hood to press her thumb into it.

Instinctively, your hips buck into her hand, she kisses you, smiling into your mouth. Claire is at the forefront of your mind, she’d given you the permission to do this, but it feels wrong still. The incest feels even worse. You’ve been trying to ignore it so far, pretend it’s just Ashley here. Ashley’s lips on yours, her fingers in your cunt, her tits pressed flush to your chest— His eyes are so blue.

Ashley scissors you open with two fingers, you suck on her tit, both of you tangled up within each other. Pulling off with a pop, she takes out her fingers and you’re left empty. You taste yourself on her tongue, on her fingers and grow sick of it.

“C’mere,” You take the pillow that’s propped up against the headboard and slot it underneath her hips to keep ‘em raised. Ashley’s cunt is perfect like the rest of her. You wonder if there are procedures to get it this pink, her labia pokes out past her parted pussy lips as does her swollen clit, you give a tentative lick to her cunt, unsure of how she likes it. Claire likes it messy, but Ashley’s rich, she might like it classy. You could eat pussy classy if you tried hard enough.

She lies back, her head sunken into the mass of pillows - the one you had taken barely left a dent in the pile, her tits are small but round and her nipples are pointed and as pink as her pussy. Ashley takes initiative, daddy’s been giving it to her real sloppy it seems, ‘cause she pushes your face into it. Your nose bumps her clit and she sighs sweetly when your tongue works its merry way up her slit, from her slick hole to her twitching bud that you pay extra special attention to. It deserves it, pretty like a pearl, wrap your lips around it and suck till her thighs close around your head.

“Outta the way,” Mr. President, fully clothed, cock hard straining in his slacks, takes Ashley’s leg and spreads her further, “Keep it there for daddy, princess.”

When you lift your head out of pure curiosity, he kisses you, jams his tongue into your mouth to taste you like your tongue wasn’t just jammed in his daughter’s cunt. His daughter who is spread-eagle on the bed for The United States of America. Though, from the way they’re behaving, Ashley is a renowned patriot, this isn’t her first time confessing her love for all things red, white, and blue. And rust orange.

Dumbfounded by his takeover of the pussy you were having so much fun eating, you crawl back over to Ashley while daddy blows raspberries on her clit, spits on the First Daughter’s, his first daughter’s, cunt like she’s a corner whore.

“Daddy,” Ashley moans, she’s unabashed, grabs his hair and forces him deeper, she tells you to suck on her tits, she’s bossy when it comes to sex. Mastered the art of fucking.

“I’ve got you, princess,” Her daddy says, he can talk while he’s eating it, impressive if you do say so yourself. The most you can do is go down on Claire till you get lightheaded, breathing is out of the question.

She cums sweetly because there is no other way in which Ashley can behave. The blood that runs through her is inherently sweet unlike her father’s. Mr. Kennedy slurps away even as she jolts due to aftershocks, he’s intent on drying her out.

When he does decide to join the two of you above, it’s to press kisses into Ashley’s neck, to sniff her perfume, “Good girl,” He praises, “Daddy’s good girl.” Those lines sound like something out of a cheap porno. Hard to believe that it’s real. That you seriously just sat there and got cucked by Ashley’s father.

“Thank you, daddy,” Ashley giggles, stroking through his dark hair as he suckles on her nipple, spit stringy on his lips and her breast when he pulls back. “No, not me,” She refuses when he, with his slacks mid-thigh, presses his cock to her inner thigh, “I want to watch you, daddy.”

See, you’ve taken dick, you take Claire’s silicone dick often. Taking presidential dick, it’s new to you. Presidential dick that could’ve possibly at any time today been lodged inside his little girl, meaning you’re being double dicked not only by a presidential cock, but an incestuous one. It’s fat, browner than it is pink, uncut, the tip is leaky like nobody’s business.

“Aw, oh my gosh,” Ashley coos, “Don’t be scared, you’ve got this!” Your nerves don’t stem from taking his mediocre, prized dick, but from everything else about this situation. “Daddy’s good at it, it never hurts.” She holds your hand, brings it to her lips to kiss, fluffs the pillows and peppers kisses all over your face as President Kennedy, a man of assumed integrity pushes your legs to your chest.

His cock rubs up and down your cunt, catches on your clit, the fat tip is sucked into your stretched hole and inch by inch he forces his way into your hole. With each inch, not that there’s many, it gets thicker, till the base is engulfed into your greedy pussy. Ashley wipes the sweat from your brow, “Isn’t it good?” She gushes, “Daddy’s just the best, I don’t think I could ever be with anyone else, he’s just so good at it, isn’t he?” In response to her blabbing, you can only whimper, giving a quick bob of your head to satisfy her.

Inside of you, each vein embeds itself into your walls, the head jabs at your cervix painfully, and most of all it feels stupidly good. His cock is thick and sturdy like all good dicks should be. And he’s fucking you like he hates you. Which he does. Deep, hard, slow and nasty.

“Is it good, daddy?” Ashley asks innocently enough, her hand rests on your tummy, grows bored and trails lower to flick at your clit.

“Not as good as you, princess, never,” Comes his instant answer. You take offence to this and clench around him so tight he groans and his head drops to your neck, lips on your collarbone. There’s a sticky sound each time he draws his hips back and pushes in, you’re dripping for Ashley, for him— You don’t know anymore, head so clouded you’ve let the incest slip.

“Aw, daddy!” She places a hand over her heart, then she’s back to pinching your clit between her fingers, forcing you to unravel.

His thrusts are deliberate, mean, and he fucks you like it’s all your fault. As if he doesn’t get to hump Ashley at all times of the day. The squelch of your cunt is embarrassing enough for you to be over and done with, each stroke is a hit on your ego and on your cervix, the latter being a more delicious hit, but a hit nonetheless. When he cums, he does it on your stomach in white, watery ropes, and it pools in your belly button as you writhe with the immense pleasure he and his disgusting cock have bought you. Ashley’s bony fingers helped to some degree.

“Is it my turn now?” Ashley perks up when her dad kisses her all sloppy on the mouth, spit and drool included.

“Give daddy a minute, princess, I can’t keep up with you,” He chuckles, pats her head, they’ve started their incestuously affectionate display, so you cover yourself up and shoot Claire a second message while they begin to act lovey-dovey in bed. Let their guard down, and you hate to do this to such a lovely girl, but your girlfriend is an even lovelier girl.

Soon enough, she and the gaggle of reporters burst through the doors, flashing cameras in hand. Ashley was foolish for letting off her security detail for the night, President Kennedy is the bigger fool, and Claire, well, you’ve never seen her smile so big.

#leon s kennedy x you #leon s kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy smut #leon kennedy smut #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy x reader #resident evil x reader #resident evil smut

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mapsontheweb · 2 months

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The Dardic Languages are a group of related but not mutually intelligible languages spoken across Northern Pakistan, Northeastern Afghanistan, Kashmir, Jammu and Ladakh.

They are part of the Indo-Iranian languages whom are ultimately a branch of the larger Indo-European language family.

by generic_maps

#maps #generic_maps #igsourced #dardic languages.pakistan

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ace-and-the-rpg-horrors · 4 months

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i've been thinking about it for a while, but it is really quite... interesting how people will try to "correct" South Asian people when they refer to themselves as "Asian." and it is especially interesting that i have only seen white people "call them out" - not the "actual" Asians they are defending or whatever it is they're trying (and failing) to do.

i've experienced it personally, back in school a couple years ago, i was just having a chat with my Chinese classmate and we were just talking about "The Strict Asian Parents" struggles, relating to each other and such. but a girl behind me was like "errmm. actually, Aden. you're not Asian, you're like, Indian."

girl, first of all, not every brown person is Indian, i'm Pakistani, thank you very much. secondly- if these people are under the impression that people from India, Pakistan, Bangladesh, Afghanistan and others are not Asian- which bloody continent do they think they're in and from??

of course, it's kind of obvious what it is. it's really just ignorance. because when certain people hear the word "Asian" only about three countries come to their minds. Japan, China and South Korea. only East Asian countries. maybe if they're a bit more clever they might think up of a couple of Southeast Asian countries too, like Malaysia and Vietnam.

but- hint, hint, East Asia. that implies that it's not the whole continent, right??

and i can't lie, i do get a bit of an uneasy feeling that there's at least a little colourism underlying that mindset, whether they're aware of it or not. because, especially in recent years, East Asian culture has definitely been popularised, romanticised and all that, notably through anime and East Asian idol groups. i do imagine that does create its own issues and expectations for people from those countries, but i don't think i can really have a say on that.

it does make me wonder, now that some people from the West associate "Asia" simply with their precious, fair idols and anime characters and nothing else, they might have some sort of subconscious aversion against accepting people who don't fit those specific looks and mannerisms within that category- despite it being an incredibly broad one??

Asia is a massive continent with tons and tons of different cultures in it. you can't just expect to get away with erasing and ignoring at least half of the whole thing.

#i don't usually talk about serious serious stuff like this but. it makes me think sometimes #ace's rants :(

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arjuna-vallabha · 2 years

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Goddess and Water Buffalo Rhyton,Sasanian, Iran, 600s or Turk Shahi dynasty, Kabul, Afghanistan, 500s

The goddess flat brow, straight nose, and widely set, heavy-lidded eyes—along with the sectarian mark in gold on her forehead—relate to art of the Indus River Valley and Hindu Kush regions of today’s Pakistan and Afghanistan. While we do not know for sure, numerous scholars have suggested that she may depict the Indian warrior goddess Durga, slayer of the buffalo demon.

#Durga #?#goddess

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mariacallous · 7 months

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Afghan refugees who fled their country to escape from decades of war and terrorism have become the unwitting pawns in a cruel and crude political tussle between Pakistan’s government and the extremist Taliban as their once-close relationship disintegrates amid mutual recrimination.

On Oct. 3, Pakistan’s government announced that mass deportations of illegal immigrants, mostly Afghans, would start on Nov. 1. So far, at least 300,000 Afghans have already been ejected, and more than a million others face the same fate as the expulsions continue.

The bilateral fight appears to center on Kabul’s support for extremists who have wreaked havoc and killed hundreds in Pakistan over the last two years—or at least that is how Islamabad sees it, arguing that it is simply applying its own laws. The Taliban deny accusations that they are behind the uptick of terrorism in Pakistan by affiliates that they protect, train, arm, and direct.

Mass deportations are a sign that Pakistan is “putting its house in order,” said Pakistan’s caretaker minister of interior, Sarfraz Bugti. “Pakistan is the only country hosting four million refugees for the last 40 years and still hosting them,” he said via text. “Whoever wanted to stay in our country must stay legally.” Of the 300,000 Afghans already ejected, none have faced any problems upon returning, he told Foreign Policy. As the Taliban are claiming that Afghanistan is now peaceful, he said, “they should help their countrymen to settle themselves.”

“We are not a cruel state,” he said, adding: “Pakistanis are more important.”

The Taliban—who, since returning to power in August 2021, have been responsible for U.N.-documented arbitrary detentions and killings, as well forcing women and girls out of work and education—have called Pakistan’s deportations “inhumane” and “rushed.” Taliban figures have said that the billions of dollars of international aid they still receive are insufficient to deal with the country’s prior economic and humanitarian crises, let alone a mass influx of penniless refugees.

The expulsions come after earlier efforts by Pakistan, such as trade restrictions, to exert pressure on Kabul to rein in the Tehrik-i-Taliban Pakistan (TTP), the Pakistani Taliban, whose attacks on military and police present a severe security challenge to the Pakistani state. Acting Prime Minister Anwar ul-Haq Kakar said earlier this month that TTP attacks have risen by 60 percent since the Taliban regained control of Afghanistan, with 2,267 people killed.

The irony is that Pakistan bankrolled the Taliban throughout their 20-year insurgency following their ouster from power during the U.S.-led invasion in 2001. Taliban leaders found sanctuary and funding from Pakistan’s military and intelligence services. When the Taliban retook control of Afghanistan in 2021, then-Pakistani Prime Minister Imran Khan congratulated them, as did groups such as al Qaeda and Hamas. But rather than continuing as Islamabad’s proxy, the Taliban have reversed roles, providing safe haven for terrorist and jihadi groups, including the TTP.

“While it’s still too early to draw any conclusions on policy shifts in Islamabad, it appears that the initial excitement about the Taliban’s return to power has now turned into frustration,” said Abdullah Khenjani, a former deputy minister of peace in the previous Afghan government. “Consequently, these traditional [Pakistani state] allies of the Taliban are systematically reassessing their leverage to be prepared for potentially worse scenarios.”

Since the Taliban’s return, around 600,000 Afghans made their way into Pakistan, swelling the number of Afghan refugees in the country to an estimated 3.7 million, with 1.32 million registered with the U.N. High Commission on Refugees. Many face destitution, unable to find work or even send their children to local schools. The situation may be even worse after the deportations: Pakistan is reportedly confiscating most of the refugees’ money on the way out, leaving them in a precarious situation in a country already struggling to create jobs for its people or deal with its own humanitarian crises.

Border crossings between Pakistan and Afghanistan have been clogged in recent weeks, as many Afghan refugees preempted the police round-up and began making their way back. Media have reported that some of the undocumented Afghans were born in Pakistan, their parents having fled the uninterrupted conflict at home since the former Soviet Union invaded in 1979. Many of the births were not registered.

Meanwhile, some groups among those being expelled are especially vulnerable. Hundreds of Afghans could face retribution from the Taliban they left the country to escape. Journalists, women, civil and human rights activists, LGBTQ+ advocates, judges, police, former military and government personnel, and Shiite Hazaras have all been targeted by the Taliban, and many escaped to Pakistan, with and without official documents.

Some efforts have been made to help Afghans regarded as vulnerable to Taliban excess if they are returned. Qamar Yousafzai set up the Pakistan-Afghanistan International Federation of Journalists at the National Press Club of Pakistan, in Islamabad, to verify the identities of hundreds of Afghan journalists, issue them with ID cards, and help with housing and health care. He has also interceded for journalists detained by police for a lack of papers. Yet that might not be enough to prevent their deportation.

Amnesty International called for a “halt [to] the continued detentions, deportations, and widespread harassment of Afghan refugees.” If not, it said, “it will be denying thousands of at-risk Afghans, especially women and girls, access to safety, education and livelihood.” The UNHCR and International Organization for Migration, the U.N.’s migration agency, said the forced repatriations had “the potential to result in severe human rights violations, including the separation of families and deportation of minors.”

Once back in Afghanistan, returnees have found the going tough, arriving in a country they hardly know, without resources to restart their lives, many facing a harsh Himalayan winter in camps set up by a Taliban administration ill-equipped to provide for them.

Fariba Faizi, 29, is from the southwestern Afghanistan city of Farah, where she was a journalist with a private radio station. Her mother, Shirin, was a prosecutor for the Farah provincial attorney general’s office, specializing in domestic violence cases. Once the Taliban returned to power, they were both out of their jobs, since women are not permitted to work in the new Afghanistan. They also faced the possibility of detention, beating, rape, and killing.

Along with her family of 10 (parents, siblings, husband, and toddler), Faizi, now eight months pregnant with her second child, moved to Islamabad in April 2022, hoping they’d be safe enough. Once the government announced the deportations, landlords who had been renting to Afghans began to evict them; Faizi’s landlord said he wanted the house back for himself. Her family is now living with friends of Yousafzai, who also arranged charitable support to cover their living costs for six months, she said.

With no work in either Pakistan or Afghanistan, Faizi said, they faced a similar economic situation on either side of the border. In Pakistan, however, the women in the family could at least look for work, she said; their preference would be to stay in Pakistan. As it is, they remain in hiding, afraid of being detained by police and forced over the border once their visas expire.

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bijoumikhawal · 11 months

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Talking about the Qabā'. Again.

The last time I talked about the Qaba was in another post where i was very excited to have found a miniature from either Syria or Egypt that matched an extant piece of fabric from a close time period. Today I'm going to talk about the garment itself more, and it's relatives. The impetus for this is that a few months ago, I was scrolling through hanfu blogs- if you've read the article I published in Egyptian Migrations, you know I have an interest not just in Egyptian fashion, but how other cultures navigate fashion, both in their unique subcultures and traditional styles. While doing so I came across the tieli (貼裏), and quite liked the look of it, so I searched up the garment and began looking more at it. As I was scrolling through the many pretty pictures, I realized hey- I've seen this before. This looks a lot like that coat with the red foliage pattern!

Turns out this was because they're related.

They're not the only ones either- the Qabā' (as both Farsi and Arabic call it), the Tieli, the Indian Jama, the Korean Cheolik, and more, all bear a resemblance to each other. Covergent evolution happens plenty of course, but in this case there's something of an established link. In fact while doing my research, I found a paper specifically about this garment family (The Dress of the Mongol Empire: Genealogy And Diaspora of the Terlig by Woohyun Cho, Jaeyoon Yi, and Jinyoung Kim), though without explicit mention of the Qabā'.

The name and garment Tieli come from the Mongolian Terlig and Jisün (also called a Zhama (诈玛 or 詐馬), establishing a possible linguistic connection to the Jama) during the Yuan dynasty. Like many Mongolian traditional garments, it's well suited to horseback riding, which which what many Mamluk depictions also show the Qabā' being worn during. It could be round or cross collar (the combination of the two is unique to the Qabā'). The key features of the garment were a knee to calf length skirt that was gathered or pleated, a close fitting bodice cut separate from the skirt, close fitting sleeves, a corded waist which usually lead into the ties that closed the garment. According to the aforementioned trio, the garment was originally made of hides, and the waist detail found in the original Terlig, lost in other cultures renditions, is an indication of this. The Terlig, known before this point, was introduced to China, India, and Korean when the Monglian Empire was an active political entity in the 13th century and onwards, and this is the case for this style of Qabā' as well. During the 13th century, the Ilkhanate was established in the former territory of the Khwarazmian Empire, after a political incident where the Shah ordered the execution of a group of merchants sent by the Mongolian Empire lead to a long military conflict. The Ilkhanate went on to control large portions of Turkey, Syria, Iraq, and the Caucasus, as well as Afghanistan, Turkmenistan, and Pakistan. Ultimately the Ilkhanate tried, but never did, conquer Egypt, which was ruled by the Mamluks at the time.

However, it did leave a cultural influence behind. Reference to this origin for this style of qaba can be found in one of the two names for the Qabā': al-aqbiya al-tatariyya or qabā' tatarī, meaning the Tatar coat or Tatar way of wearing a coat. Tatar, in this instance, is being used to refer to Mongolians. A similar distinction can be found in the Jama, where Muslims fasten it on the right in the Mongolian style (brought to my attention by the paper mentioned before). The tatarī is fastened in the same way, ties on the wearer's right of the body. The other style of Qabā' (al-aqbiya al-turkiyya) is the same, but fastens on the opposite side of the body. The Mamluks preferred the tatarī, but it was not the exclusive style worn. Along with this, some Qabā' fastened in the center front.

The Jisün was a type of Terlig, made of one color of silk and gold, worn as a robe of honor by officials during the Yuan dynasty. During the later Ming dynasty, it became the dress of certain military officials. It had different varieties for seasons and social status. It also progenitated the Yesa (曳撒), which was longer and more widely worn than the Jisün. The Feiyufu (飞鱼服) was a Ming variant of the Tieli, and another type of honor robe. The Qing dynasty Chaofu also seems to have taken the terlig into account when it was designed.

The Cheolik has a crossover collar, pleated skirt, and may have quite long, wide sleeves. Political marriages with Mongolian courts likely helped this garment take root. This garment is still worn today as Korea, like China, has revitalized its traditional clothing. It is mostly by women today as far as I can tell, though historically it was a masculine garment. It has a longer hem than the Terlig. It also sometimes had a higher waistline.

The Jama was introduced by the Mughal dynasty, and unlike the other garments listed here which typically used rectangles and triangles for constructing clothes, the one pattern I've seen for it taken from an extant garment (as opposed to being a guess) shows a skirt made of gores and set in sleeves with a gusset. Another example, laid flat, shows rectangular sleeves with a gusset, but the skirt cannot be determined. It was later renamed to sarbgati. It typically has a crossover fastening, though I have seen one that closed in the center front. The ties are especially prominent and decorated, which overall is not the case in the rest of the garment family. Gold bands on the sleeves and collar are sometimes found as decoration. It also has a longer hem and higher waistline than the Terlig.

In my previous post I noted a similarly to this robe and the Central Asian and Persian robes I'd seen from a different century, but was hesitant to connect them. Now I'm sure of a connection. The waist seam is confirmed! There are still several stylistic differences, though:

1. The Qabā', in Syrian and Egyptian depictions, typically combines a round neckline with the cross over collar. The Persian Qabā' typically does not have a round neckline.

2. The Qabā' usually has what looks like a gathered skirt, not a pleated one, as the Tieli does. The Terlig sometimes has a gathered skirt as well, as does the Jama.

3. The Syrian and Egyptian Qabā' is decorated with strips of gold, not with a cloud collar. The Persian Qabā' often has a cloud collar, which it inherits from the Terlig, and I have seen an Angarkha from Lahore with a cloud collar as well. It sometimes has bands. The Seljuk Qabā' sometimes has bands, and sometimes has a rank badge (more commonly found in Chinese court dress). As an aside, I recently found a British drawing (from life, presumably) of an Egyptian envoy in a garment similar to an Angarkha as well...

4. The Qabā' in Syrian and Egyptian depictions often retains the knee or calf length good for horse riding that many other garments in this family moved away from.

5. The Qabā' most likely does not have the corded waist found in the Terlig. There is a gold band around the waist in some depictions that could be a braided waist, but could also be a belt. Unfortunately I don't know of any extant examples from Syria or Egypt that would clarify matters. There is an example which might be Persian that does show this corded waist. Most depictions have no waist detail other than an indication of a waistline.

As far as I know, while this robe spread a little into the Balkans and Eastern Europe (the cloud collar has appeared in some Christian Iconography and a few examples of Terlig like historical garments exist), it did not spread much further west or south of Egypt. However, given the Qabā' has been excluded from discussions of the Terlig's many sons already, it's possible I simply don't know about it, as further iterations in Africa would be excluded as well. As always, I welcome people bringing their own findings to the table.

Further reading: The Dress of the Mongol Empire: Genealogy And Diaspora of the Terlig by Woohyun Cho, Jaeyoon Yi, and Jinyoung Kim

Mongol court dress, identity formation, and global exchange by Eiren L. Shea

https://sartorialegypt.wordpress.com/2022/12/03/a-brief-discussion-of-a-mamluk-robe/ - prev post

http://collections.vam.ac.uk/item/O480307/gown/ - the cloud collar angarkha

https://www.newhanfu.com/6021.html - Discussion of the tieli and yesa

https://www.jstor.org/stable/41917645 - Terlig discussion

https://www.jstor.org/stable/43957434 - general discussion of Yuan clothing with a nice example of a terlig

https://en.unesco.org/silkroad/silk-road-themes/mouvable-heritage-and-museums/robe-decorative-braided-waist-band-0 - Terlig example

A Preliminary Study of Mongol Costumes in the Ming Dynasty by Luo Wei

https://m.terms.naver.com/entry.naver?cid=46671&docId=563301&categoryId=46671 - Cheolik

Arab dress: a short history; from the dawn of Islam to modern times by Yedida Stillman

https://lugatism.com/outer-garments-in-the-mamluk-sultanate/#3-_Qaba_qba - the Qaba and other dress in the Mamluk era

https://www.agakhanmuseum.org/collection/artifact/robe-AKM677 - a robe which may be Persian or Central Asian with the corded waist

Additionally, blogs like @ziseviolet and @fouryearsofshades post about hanfu, including the tieli and yesa.

#cipher talk #Qabā'#egyptian fashion #egyptian #egyptian history

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somerabbitholes · 1 year

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Hey, Hi

Can you name some interesting Geo-political reads? Indian as well as that of world??

Thanks.

Hi! I'm not sure what exactly you're looking for, so these are just ones I like:

The Revenge of Geography by Robert Kaplan: argues that geography and geographical circumstance has a sizeable part to play in shaping foreign policy and strategic engagements of various countries. Also see his Monsoon.

Chip War by Chris Miller: a history of semiconductors, simultaneously also about globalisation and how economics intentionally or unintentionally drive geopolitics and vice versa

Fateful Triangle by Tanvi Madan: about the China factor in US-India relations, especially during the Cold War

How India Sees the World by Shyam Saran: a historical look at India's global engagements and outlook (or lack thereof); he used to be the foreign secretary so it's quite firsthand. Also see his How China Sees India and the World

Magnificent Delusions by Hussain Haqqani: about the US-Pakistan relationship since the 1950s; how either country has a history of misunderstanding the other

The Blood Telegram by Gary J. Bass: about the American consul in Dhaka and through his eyes, a picture of the genocide in then-East Pakistan and the (geo)political and military fight that the struggle for Bangladesh became

The Afghanistan Papers by Craig Whitlock: a look at how the US and US army became so embroiled in Afghanistan and how it was always an unwinnable gamble; argues that the conflict continued in spite of this knowledge

The Prize by Daniel Yergin: a history of the oil industry and the geopolitics of oil as it played out in the Middle East.

Happy reading!

#book recs #answered

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friendswithclay · 28 days

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“Pathan Girl, North West Frontier, The term 'Pathan' is a corruption of the term Pashtun meaning a member of one of the inter-related tribes on both sides of the Pakistan-Afghanistan border; they are famous for their independence and enjoy almost total autonomy in Pakistan's tribal areas, Pakistan, 1919.”

#friendswithclay #pottery #Pakistan

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fatehbaz · 1 year

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Midway through Jamil Jan Kochai’s collection The Haunting of Hajji Hotak and Other Stories, which maps generations of Afghan and Afghan American lives against over a century of entwined wars, sits what appears to be a résumé. Entitled “Occupational Hazards,” it meticulously records the everyday labors of an Afghan man: [...] his “[d]uties included: leading sheep to the pastures”; from 1977–79, “gathering old English rifles” left over from the last war while being recruited into a new war; in 1980–81, “burying the tattered remnants of neighbors and friends and women and children and babies and cousins and nieces and nephews and a beloved half-sister”; [...] becoming a refugee day-laborer in Peshawar, Pakistan; in 1984, becoming a refugee in Alabama, where he worked on an assembly line with other Asian migrants whom the white factory owner used to push out the local Black workforce; and so on. Dozens of events, from the traumatic to the mundane, are cataloged one by one in prose that is at once emotionless and overwhelming. [...] Kochai interviewed his father for the résumé’s occupational trajectory [...]. An Afghan shepherd [...] is displaced by imperial wars and then, in the heart of empire, is conscripted into racialized domestic economies [...]. [M]ethodically translating lived violence via a résumé, a bureaucratic form that quantifies labor in its most banal functionality, paradoxically realizes the spectacular breadth of war and how it organizes life’s possibilities. [...]

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In this collection, war is past, present, and plural. In Afghanistan, Kochai recounts the lives of Logaris and Kabulis, against the backdrop of the US occupation, still dealing with the detritus of previous wars - British, Soviet, and civil - including their shrines, mines, and memories. In the United States, Afghan Californians experience the diasporic conditions of war -- state neglect of refugees combined with targeted surveillance -- amid the coming-of-age of a second generation that must confront inherited traumas while struggling to build political solidarities with other displaced youth.

These 12 stories explore the reverberations between historical and psychic realities, invoking a ghostly practice of reading. Characters, living and dead, recur across the stories [...]. Wars echo one another [...]. Scenes and states mirror each other, with one story depicting Afghan bureaucracies that disavow military and police violence while another depicts US bureaucracies that deny social services to unemployed refugees. History itself is layered and unresolved [...]. Kochai, who was born in a refugee camp in Peshawar, writes from the position of the Afghan diaspora [...]. In August 2021, the US relegated Afghanistan to the past, declaring the “longest American war” over. Over for whom? one should ask. [...] War, in other words, is not an event but a structure. [...]

---

In Kochai’s collection, war is not the story; rather, war arranges the scenes and life possibilities [...]. Kochai carefully puts war itself, and the warmakers, in the narrative background [...].

This is a historically incisive narrative design for representing Afghanistan. Kochai challenges centuries of Western colonial discourses, from Rudyard Kipling to Rambo, that conflate Afghanistan with violence while erasing the international production of that violence as well as the social and conceptual worlds of Afghans themselves. Instead, this collection moves the reader across Afghans’ transcontinental, intergenerational, and multispirited social worlds -- including through stories of migrations and returns, homes populated by the living and the martyred, language that enmeshes Dari, Pashto, and Northern California slang, as well as the occasional fantastical creature [...].

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Like Kochai’s debut novel 99 Nights in Logar (2019), this collection merges realism and the fantastic, oral and academic histories, Afghan folklore and Islamic texts, giving his fiction a dynamic relation to history. Each story is an experiment, and many of them are replete with surreal or magical elements [...].

As in Ahmed Saadawi’s 2013 novel Frankenstein in Baghdad, a nightmarish sensorium collides with a postcolonial body politics [...].

In a recent interview, Kochai said that writing about his family’s experiences of war has compelled him to explore “realms of the surreal or magical realism […] because the incidents themselves seem so unreal […]. [I]t takes years and decades to even come to terms with what had actually happened to them before their eyes.” He points not to a documentary dilemma but to an epistemological one. While some scholars have argued that fantastic genres like magical realism are often conflated with exoticized imaginaries of the Global South, others have defended the form’s critical possibilities for rendering complex realities and multiple modes of interpretation. Literary metaphors, whether magical or otherwise, are always imprecise; as Afghan poet Aria Aber puts it, “you flee into metaphor but you return / with another moth / flapping inside your throat.” [...]

Kochai does not “escape” into the surreal or magical as fictions but as other ways of reckoning with war’s pasts ongoing in the present.

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Text by: Najwa Mayer. “War Is a Structure: On Jamil Jan Kochai’s “The Haunting of Hajji Hotak and Other Stories.”“ LA Review of Books (Online). 20 December 2022. [Bold emphasis and some paragraph breaks/contractions added by me.]

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