#Ethnic rugs

[artsofarabia]

Al Sadu | السدو

Traditional weaving of Bedouins (nomadic Arabs). Which can be seen decorating many Arab spaces, from nomadic tents to urban and modern houses.

#arab #arabian #culture #middle east #Arabs #Bedouin #Bedouin culture #weaving #carpets #rugs #ethnic #MENA #embroidery #knitting #nomadic #nomads #Arabic #swana #West Asia #arabian peninsula #Arabian Gulf #Arabia #Saudi Arabia #al sadu #najd #hijaz #Khaleej #west Arabia #central Arabia #east Arabia

[ledecorquejadore]

Moroccan style interior

#moroccan #interior design #islamic #african #colorful #rugs #pillows #metal decor #filigree #ethnic

[kashmirichaiwithmehr]

.

#isr*elis claiming palestinian and middle eastern foods as their own (ex. hummus) #is just like what india is doing now by incorporating kashmir into every fucking thing they can #setting bollywood songs in kashmir #calling clothing lines kashmiri #calling rugs kashmiri #calling foods kashmiri #etcetcetc #theyre constantly appropriating kashmiri culture #it boils my blood that india is out here trying to eradicate ethnic kashmiris and change the demographics of kashmir by letting -> #non-kashmiri indians buy land there #and are killing kashmiris daily #and abusing them #and if yall didnt know #the weapons that isr*el is using in palestine are being tested by indians in kashmir FIRST (ill find the source and share later) #its so asdhsjklaashasjkld;asdajkl;dasd #if ur indian and not speaking out abt palestine #OR KASHMIR #ur complicit #if ur not kashmiri u do not have a fucking say #give kashmiris autonomy #okay #do u understand #fuck off #god im so asdjkald;asdhkajld;asd #mehrtalks #kashmir #palestine #free palestine

[ungroomedcat]

Man, such casual sexism people drop on a daily.

I just had some contractors come and install a new garage door and the guy was explaining how to maintain it when he was done.

It went like this: "you're married right? Your husband must keep this type of oil around ask him to apply it here or buy X type from homedepot."

Or, my lawn guy: "you didn't call me this summer, I thought you finally got married" which- wow, so much to unpack there.

They don't even realize it. Assuming I'm married is one thing- most people buy homes as a married couple. But man, that's not even relevant in your work. At all. You talk to a child this way ("tell your dad to do this okay? Don't forget!"). But women? Geez. God forbid I pick up a battle of anti rust oil from the hardware store.

#casual sexism #not that I care much #it's annoying but as sad as it is to say this I have gotten used to it #I don't even correct them most of the time #it does not matter #except when it does #like when the plumber tried ripping me off for what....looking like a woman that he can scam? #he tried charging 2x the amount he charged my male friend that recommended him for the exact same thing #or the floor installers that tried to sweep unfinished things under the rug thinking I wouldnt say anything #what's sad is that this mostly happens within my own ethnicity #other cultures are more respectful and unassuming #well that's that #time to get back to work #just a little rant this lovely monday morning #getting a new dashwasher later today also and Im really excited about that #washing dishes by hand has been a pain

[rdwelcome4u]

#indian handmade rugs #indianstyle #indianwear #indianwedding #indianwoman #jewellery #jewelry #replica designer jewellry #indianfashion #Indian oxidised jewellery #garman silver oxidised #indian ethnic #nosepin #thared choker necklace #choker necklaces #StoneNecklace

[hockeypayt]

Why don’t you want Knuckles to be jewish? I saw your tags and I’m genuinely curious.

It wasn't meant in any "man fuck Jewish people" kinda way, more like "Jesus yall need to respect others cultures". You'd be erasing the fact that he and his whole clan is based on meso-america, I get that Jewish people need representation, but stipping a character that is and always has been written as such is essentially white-washing the character. You'd be pretty annoyed if a character that's traditionally written as Muslim be written as Mormon.

#itd be annoying if a Mexican character was changed to European #how about we preserve the characters original heritage instead of sweeping it under the rug #do so and you might as well tell me “this ethnicity is more popular right now so were changing them for brownie points” #didnt even mention that his clan has its own religion and god

[sophialushambience]

This braided chindi rug is ideal for high-traffic areas that require a little more flair! Our pet-friendly and simple-to-clean area rugs will help you make the most of your time at home.

This beautiful ethnic and traditionally looking reclaimed rug is handwoven from rags which are basically remnants of fabric from garment industries, majorly cotton. It has a very smooth and soft texture and is very comfortable to sit or lie on. This braided chindi rug creates a relaxed environment, and brings you brighten and delightful feeling. While blending effortlessly with any decor style.

#Chindi Rag Rug #ethnic and traditionally #handwoven rags #very comfortable #smooth and soft texture

[death-of-a-ladies-man]

.

#I don’t know what to do I am so deeply upset with the state green lighting the genocide of the Palestinian people #I feel like there is nothing I can do and I can’t talk to anyone without worrying they think I’m crazy #I saw what the government and the press did to Jeremy Corbin and I am afraid to speak #I feel like the ethnic cleansing of the Palestinian will just be swept under the rug just like that of the Armenians #I try so hard to avoid all news and most social media but I just can’t escape the feelings of hopelessness #idk I just feel like I should be doing something

[instapride]

Bathroom San Diego Large tropical 3/4 medium tone wood floor bathroom idea with a one-piece toilet, furniture-like cabinets, a drop-in sink, and green walls.

#ethnic furniture #area rug #swing chair #powder room #bathroom #flamingo

[birdcageromance]

Bedroom - Guest Example of a small island style guest medium tone wood floor bedroom design with pink walls

#ethnic furniture #colorful accents #floral bedding #entry room #area rug

[angelderadoorian]

Guest Bedroom San Francisco Remodel ideas for a medium-sized transitional guest bedroom with white walls and a gray floor.

#ethnic rug #bedroom #boys' room #grey oak flooring #reclaimed wood

[desourire]

Toddler - Kids Room An illustration of a large, modern girl's room with a medium tone wood floor and beige walls.

#organic contemporary #ethnic contemporary #kids rugs #kids room #wall murals #crib

[chloemoretz-news]

Bedroom - Guest Example of a small island style guest medium tone wood floor bedroom design with pink walls

#ethnic furniture #colorful accents #floral bedding #entry room #area rug

[morallyinept]

Imbued - A Frankie Morales One Shot - International Women's Day

Dedicated to @undercoverpena whom is one of the most amazing, badass women ever. Happy International Women's Day, Jojobean! 🖤

I used a prompt from this list here. Prompt is marked bold in the story.

Summary: Frankie worships you and makes you feel like a Goddess. I mean, you are, aren't you?

Pairing: Frankie Morales x F!Reader (No name or physical description of reader. It’s you, bub. However, Reader speaks and understands Spanish.)

Word Count: 2k-ish

Scoville Smut Rating:🌶️🌶️🌶️ “You tell me I’m doing well, and then, you try to kill me.”

Check out my Scoville Smut Ratings here.

Warnings/Triggers: Established relationship/face riding/facesitting/multiple orgasms/some mild squirting/body worship/Frankie eats you out because he's the 🐱👑

NSFW. MINORS DNI! OVER 18’s ONLY. YOU ARE SOLELY RESPONSIBLE FOR WHAT YOU READ.☝🏻Don’t come at me; you’ve been plenty warned.

I write for me, and I share with you. If this story isn't to your taste, that's fine. Just slip quietly out the back door. No need to make a fuss. It's just a work of fiction.

Author’s Note: Happy International Women's Day! What better way to be celebrated than by Frankie worshipping you! 🫠

☝🏻Whilst we don't need men to make us feel powerful, I hope you know that you're amazing, independent and gorgeous, no matter what! The world is yours for the taking, Queen. Today is to celebrate and empower all the incredible women/trans women/bi women from all walks of life. No matter your ethnicity, your background, physical capabilities, your age - YOU matter. Be proud of who you are and know that every day, you are incredible, and you are strong. 💪🏻🌎🖤

MAIN MASTERLIST | FRANKIE MASTERLIST

Enjoy! 🖤

Frankie is a sight to behold in the mornings. 

Almost ethereal as the sun kisses those beaming streaks over his tan, warm skin and muscles that envelope you in strong, cresting arms. 

Pink lips that truly steal the show, full and inviting, they curl into a dreamy, crooked smile that hints at a mischievous spark lurking just beneath the surface of a bruised man, who wakes with you in crumpled sheets with entwined limbs, clammy with sweat. 

Sleepy orbs of polished obsidian regard you in the oncoming glow of the golden dawn, flooding through thin linens and filling the room with an aureate haze. Thick, rough fingers glide against your cheek as the heat from his breath settles into your eyelashes. 

“Hueles tan bien,” (You smell so good) he grazes to you, nose running the arch of your shoulder. “Siempre te ves muy bien por las mañanas.” (You always look so good in the mornings.)

“Mmm,” you hum, relishing the hard prodding of him in between your cheeks. 

Smiling, your arch like a feline, stretching and working out your back from hours curled into comatose, rigid shapes around him.

Deft hands felt around your waist pull you against him. You feel him subtly grind; a thickness rutting against you, separated only by flimsy cotton and worn elastic.

Twisting to face him, you lick up the side of his jaw, tasting the salt in his greying scruff; the silk of it smooth on your tongue as you make wet tracks through the forest of grizzly hairs. Exploring all the prominent contours of his rugged masculinity, as his tall and broad body slowly cages over your own and starts his own explorations. 

His lips find yours, tongue delving in and groaning around the kisses he pelts you with, tempered with soft lips under a satiny scratch of his moustache. 

“Dime qué quieres.” (Tell me what you want.) He always knows what you want, delivering satisfaction in abundance. But hearing you tell him that you crave him never gets tiresome.

Frankie kisses down your body slowly, dragging his lips, lingering in places he knows will rile you. Collarbone, nipples, hips… smooches with a swipe of wet tongue appeasing as your hands follow his head, twirling curls around your index and middle.

Parting your legs, he kisses down your thigh, up the other one, eyes darting to yours. Soft, muddy irises, pupils already blown wide as he smirks at you. 

“Bésame.” (Kiss me) You say, as he stretches up to find your lips again. 

You shake your head, pushing on his shoulders. “Bésame ahí,” (Kiss me there) you iterate, guiding him by the chin down to your centre. 

“Fuckin’ beautiful,” he groans, almost pained in its tincture. 

Frankie smiles immediately as he licks up the centre of your crotch over your panties. A wicked glint in his eye as you gasp and grin down at him.

He then slides off your cotton underwear, patched damp, without hesitation.

“Sé lo que quieres.” (I know what you want.) Frankie husks with a grin that will scorch the sun. 

Already swollen in anticipation, he licks around the outer lips of your cunt, tingles travelling deep into the layers of skin as you shudder; warm breath creating cool tracks as he goes.

He nestles, aquiline nose curved perfectly to brush against you, nuzzling gently over the protruding bump of your clit as it throbs almost painfully. Ghostly mouthing, you can barely feel it as he coats you in tepid breaths; teases and prolongs the agony until you tug on the curls behind his ears sharply with a pout.

“Then give it to me,” you demand softly. And he can never resist. 

He starts his complete annihilation of you with slow precision. Skilled tongue curling out, the tip brushing over your clit faintly. Watches you keenly with those soulful eyes sitting under thick, expressive eyebrows, perfectly arched to accentuate the intensity of his gaze, as that singular stroke engulfs your body with a jolt as you moan, ragged and wanting. 

He does it again. Flick. 

And again. Flick. Flick. Flick. 

Tongue flicking faster, rumbling back and forth with speed, your thighs jerk, ripples of skin humming.

Settles into a soft rhythm of his tongue lapping and padding delicately over the tip of your clit. An explorative make out session with your pussy as he slides his tongue around the most sensitive parts, waking them up with gentle prods and flickers.

Circling around and around, looping figure eights, spelling out his name, before his lips sink further into your folds, and he suctions around that bud, sucking on it with a deep pull. 

He works you up; your fingers gnarling in his hair, fisting in the sheets, pulling around your nipples as the frenzy begins to unfurl from a deep slumber.

Frankie licks down, tongue trailing the length of your slit, finding the indent of your hole that’s pooling for him. Scoops up the clear, dripping honey with the curve of his tongue and deposits it around the hilt of your clit as he sucks on it again. 

Orchestrating the delicate interplay of pleasure and longing. With each passing moment, the music swells, growing in intensity and depth, like the rising tide of an ocean before a storm.

He feels you raking in his hair; dark and tousled from sleep, framing his face in a halo of unruly waves that are only tamed into submission by his cap. Fingers exploring and gripping tighter around the back of his skull, wanting more, craving the pleasure he’s conducting within your core.

You’ll crash all over him. 

“I want you to come, come for me, hermosa. Déjame probarte a ti.” (Let me taste you.)

His serpentine tongue squelches through your lips quicker, drenched with his saliva, foaming with your bubbly secretions. Sticky chin, silvery hairs darker with the wet coating around his lips and cheeks, as he buries his face fully into the shrine of your cunt. 

He’s done teasing, he needs you to come. Needs to taste you flooding his mouth. 

“Oh fuck, oh my god, yes baby…” you drone, you babble, you speak in tongues. Your voice rasps as you tense and shudder.

With each passing moment, with each practised flick of his tongue, you feel yourself drawing deeper into that whirlpool of pleasure, your senses heightening to a fever pitch. Feeling the tension coiling within you, a tightened spring ready to snap at the slightest touch, cinching and pulsing.

A white noise getting louder in your ears. 

Sticky, inflamed lips rolling back, Frankie spreads you open with his blunt, stubbed thumbs; exalting in the exquisite taste of your most intimate flesh beneath his nose.

He hums in appraisal, eyes sinking back into his sockets as he closes them in rapture at his morning feast spread before him. Tonguing your hole, contracting around nothing, desiring to be filled with him, but denial is the path to imminent release.

“Damn, you look so amazing right now,” he breathes with a husk. “Eres tan malditamente hermosa.” (You’re so damn beautiful.)

You tug at his hair more, sleep-billowed curls tightly wound around your fingers as you grind against his face chasing your oncoming release. Thighs threaten to suffocate him as he puffs out of his nose and looks up at you with molten browns. 

Your back arches, a perfect curve off the mattress as you dive head first into the sun, burning up as you explode. 

He’s all speed and eagerness as he has you positioned above him, quicker than you can comprehend, and begs you to sit on his face. 

Pulling on his hair you smother him and he groans like a dying man; fingers pressing bruises into your ass as he rocks you onto his awaiting mouth. You flex and grind, moving against him as you feel it build all over again. 

“F-Frankie!” You judder, your voice a lump in your throat you can’t swallow as you gasp for breath around it. 

He rolls out his tongue; a thick, wet muscle for you to fuck and use. You rock against it, feeling it slide through your folds as you scrape back his hair, fists stuffed into the pillow. 

You take from him, seek your own pleasure and finish without his cock, without his fingers. Just worshipping you with his tongue. A simple man, flat on his broad back, his queen throning on his face. 

He imbues you with strength, the confidence to discard shame and revel in your sensuality as he watches you arch and let your hips do all the work. He encourages it, feeds it to you impassioned with fascination, desire and a keen sense of empowering your womanhood to bloom and blossom. 

This is his happy place, an exquisite drowning in you that he conveys through sleepy, subdued eyes and satisfied, wanting groans that haunt your blood.

He could die like this, your cunt leaking into his mouth as you fuck it, unabashed and free.

Strong, deft hands pull you forward, down fully onto his face until he can no longer breathe. Snuffles of misty breath fan against your mound, as he lets his tongue swim inside you, lips suctioned around you. 

He knows that even without him, you're solid granite. A force to be reckoned with. Impenetrable steel holding yourself up with the power you command from within. He’s only proud that you allow him to bask in your light, your love. The divine femininity that you let him drink mouthfuls from.

Frankie knows you don’t need his love, you choose to have it and that’s what makes him love and worship you even more. 

Rocking your hips back and forth faster, your clit brushing against his nose, the hairs on his face are felt everywhere with a pleasant scratch and tingle. 

You feel his digits pulling on your nipples, rolling them between his finger and thumb as you start to let go again. Start to feel the vestiges of your orgasm seep out of the lush garden of your ribs. 

You feel it building, crushing against your abdomen as you let go. As you give him what he covets from you. 

You give him respite, the chance to breathe as you lift yourself up for a few seconds before he pulls you back down on him with a growl, greedy for more.

He doesn’t need to breathe - he just needs you coming all over his face. 

You squirm, convulsing as you come; his arms pin you onto his face not letting you escape.

“Frankie! Fuck!” You wail as your body shakes itself of its own volition. 

You lean back, supporting your hands on his chest as you ride his face through it. The head of his cock is poking out the top of his waistband, flush and leaking onto his stomach as you reach for it. He gently taps your hand away. 

His face is soaked, the pillow drenched as beads of your slick gush down his cheeks and into his hairline and ears.

Drowning in you, pulled under that wave, succumbing. 

No, this is about your pleasure only. Your undoing.

You, you, you…

His head shakes back and forth with abandon as you grunt and shatter above him - Frankie grunts hungrily. Giant hands splay you open so he can get to every part, drink you all down. 

He whines and groans as your hand slides back down his stomach, grabbing handfuls of his pudgy hips and waist with greed.

Your fingers delve into a wet, sticky puddle of his own release spurted over his soft paunch. 

Your body, like wibbly jelly, collapses onto your back into the creases of the damp sheets, the sun in your eyes like a gold strobe. 

You smirk as the waves roll off of you, bite your lip at how a man as strong as he is, is reduced to nothing but a wet, softening mess beneath you, ejaculating on his stomach at the mere taste of you.

Desperate for you, whining, keening and clawing for more of you against his mouth. 

“Más?” (More?) Frankie grins into your face as you pant, his fingers slipping into your greased folds and teasing at your sensitive clit. 

He sucks on a nipple, tonguing it stiff as you groan, watching as he looks up at you with those beguiling eyes. Melted chocolate chips that you long to taste, cloying and sweet.

“Siempre más,” (Always more) you chime, as he trails that skilled tongue back down your body, pulls your thighs over his shoulders and takes you apart with his mouth, over and over again.

Thank you so much for reading, I hope you enjoyed this story. Happy International Women's Day! 🖤

MAIN MASTERLIST | FRANKIE MASTERLIST

#pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal #frankie morales x reader #frankie morales #pedro pascal characters #frankie morales x you #frankie morales x f!reader #international women's day #jett's writing

[solitaryearthperson]

Clueless

Summary: Daryl is clueless to the reader's crush on him.

(The reader is gender-neutral and uses they/them pronouns. The ethnicity/race is preferably black/person of color.)

(Y/EC) = Your Eye Color

While Carol continued to pull out more vegetables from her garden, she couldn't help the amused grin that grew on her face as she looked over towards (Y/N)'s house and watched Daryl and (Y/N) talk to each other. He was working hard, on his knees, fixing their motorcycle, while they were kneeling next to him, talking to him about their day. The sight of the two reminded her of two lovesick kids. Except one kid was helplessly in love while the other was absolutely clueless.

"Hey Carol," Rosita greeted Carol, interrupting her watching. Leaving her home, she came walking over to the garden, gently rocking Coco in her arms, and softly cooing to the baby. "What's up with you?"

"Daryl," Carol replied, nodding her towards (Y/N)'s house.

"He's over there again," Rosita asked, surprised to see the quiet archer meeting and talking to someone other than Carol so much. "He's been visiting them a lot."

"Yep. Apparently their bike's messing up again."

"Again," Rosita replied, her brows raised in doubt. "That's like the fifth time this month, right?"

Carol nodded her head in silence as she pulled a carrot out of the ground and placed it in the basket next to her, already knowing the question that Rosita was probably going to say next. She had thought of it as well when hearing about (Y/N)'s supposed bike troubles.

"Don't they have a garage full of tools and shit?"

"Yep."

"And didn't they come here on that bike?"

Not exactly brand new to Alexandria, (Y/N) had found the peaceful community only a few months back. Showing up in dirty, rugged clothing, Rick and the others quickly cleaned them up and helped find them a home to stay in and a way to contribute to the community.

"Yep," Carol replied again, looking back over to the two and watching as they both began laughing at something, their bodies so close, their shoulders were almost touching.

"He's completely clueless, isn't he?"

"Pretty much."

Completely clueless, Carol sighed, picking up her now full basket and nodding her head towards her door, inviting Rosita and Coco inside.

~

"What was wrong this time," Carol asked him, as soon as he walked through the door. Hearing her voice, but not seeing her, he followed where it came from and found her at the counter making sandwiches, Rosita already sitting in a chair close to it and Coco sitting on the countertop, held up by her mother.

"Uh, their engine was making a weird noise and the throttle was messed up." He sat down in a chair next to Rosita and quickly snatched up an already finished sandwich, biting into it hungrily.

"Mm-hmm," Carol hummed, her grin growing at the sight of the archer's cheeks beginning to turn red at the topic of you.

Rosita noticed as well, but chose to hide it, instead continuing to play with Coco.

"What was the problem last time with their bike," Carol asked, her voice giving away some of her amusement at him.

Daryl noticed the change in her voice and furrowed his brows, deciding to ignore it for now and answer her question.

"Their brakes were actin' up," he answered, finishing his sandwich and picking up another one.

"Mm-hmm," Rosita hummed next to him, nodding her head.

At her hum, Daryl looked toward her and found a small grin appearing on her face, similar to Carol's grin. Tha hell they're up to, He wondered, frowning at them. "What," he asked.

"What what," Rosita, asked, her voice full of amusement and her grin growing into a smile.

"Whatcha smiling for," he asked, moving his eyes to both of them.

Placing the knife in her hand on the counter, Carol let out a sigh and told him "You don't think it's weird that they keep having these bike problems?"

He knew it was weird every time he heard a new problem appear, but didn't really care that much, just as long as he could go to their house, speak to them, eat with them, and just be in their presence.

"Yeah, so," he replied, nodding his head, squinting his eyes at them both in suspicion.

"How come they only want you," Rosita asked, pointing at him, to get the point across to him, "to help fix their bike? No one else here."

Letting out a sigh, he finished his sandwich, picked up another then left to go to his room, not wanting to hear anymore of what Rosita and Carol were telling him. He knew what they were getting at, but he had a hard time believing it.

Why me, he wondered. There were plenty of other people who could be there for them. Why the redneck archer who barely talks to anyone? Laying his head down, and biting into his second sandwich, he let his thoughts of (Y/N) run through his head, trying to ignore the blush that came to his face at each memory of them standing close to each other, faces almost touching, sharing food together, laughing at each other's jokes.

Shit, he realized. What Carol and Rosita said were now stuck in his head, and he knew that he'd have to confront (Y/N) about it. He wouldn't be able to be around them without asking. Just to prove them wrong.

~

You had just gotten through picking out the outfit you were going to wear for Daryl, hoping to see his usual shy blush appear on his face, when you heard three loud knocks on your front door.

Huh, he's early, you thought. Usually you were the one who went to him with another request to fix your bike, and it was never this early. You knew sometimes he would leave early in the morning to see if he could catch something quick from outside the gates and didn't want to bother him before he left. Not that you watched him that much to pick up his daily schedule.

I didn't even get to make any food for him, you thought as you walked to the door, and opened it.

Like every other day, he stood on the other side of the door in his usual dark clothing, with his hair almost reaching past his big, broad shoulders in shaggy (probably unwashed) tresses. Even though he always looked like this, it still made you nervous and you had to take a breath before opening your mouth and hoped not to embarrass yourself.

"Hey Daryl," you greeted him, feeling your heart beat faster in his presence. "You're here early. Is everything alright?"

"Yeah, yeah," he said, lowering his head in his usual shy manner. Just fucking do it, he told himself, lifting his head back up and looked at your face, his heart beating faster as he met your (Y/EC) gaze. "Can I come inside?"

"Yeah, sure." You stepped to the side and let him walk in and pass you. He's been here enough times to know your home as if he lived here himself and went straight to your garage.

Curious you followed after him, wondering what it was that he wanted to talk to you about. Yesterday he had fixed the throttle and the engine, and you hadn't gotten the chance to make up another excuse to get him over.

Entering the garage, you found him walking around the motorcycle, his head tilting slightly and bending his knees a little to get a closer look at each part of it.

Maybe he's making sure everything's alright, you guessed. "Daryl," you called his name.

He didn't answer you, but he stopped walking and turned to you, his blue eyes intense.

"Is everything okay," you asked.

"Um,..." he started lowering his head again, trying to keep you from seeing the blush that he was sure was growing on his cheeks. "You been lying 'bout yer bike?"

Shit, you thought. He figured it out. Should I lie? Tell the truth? "Um, what're you talking about?"

He squinted his eyes at you in that familiar way that let you know that he knew you were pretending before answering. "You know what I'm talking 'bout."

"Daryl, I-"

"You been messing with yer bike, so I could come here. Right?"

You opened your mouth to say something but you couldn't find the right words to say that would make up for the time of his you've wasted, having him work on the bike that you messed up on purpose.

Looking at you trying to speak but can't, he couldn't believe it. He wasn't exactly mad about you for lying, but more surprised that you would go through that trouble to get him to your place.

"Why?"

"Um... I like you and I didn't know how to tell you or talk to you." You hoped he would understand and not find you crazy. "I wasn't sure how to approach you and I noticed you always working on your bike and I thought maybe a perfect way to get to talk to you was if mine was broken, but it wasn't, so I-" you stopped rambling, noticing his silence, and saw that he was looking at you with an unreadable expression. "Daryl?"

"You did it cuz you like me," he asked, making sure he was hearing you right.

"Yeah, basically," you said, hoping you didn't ruin your friendship and what could be a potential relationship with him. "Are you mad?"

He instantly shook his head and that made the weight that had begun to weigh upon your chest disappear.

"But don't mess up yer bike no more. Okay?" He told you with a smile that was rare to see from him unless you were close to him.

"Okay."

You didn't know what to say and was about to go back inside and offer him food as a form of apology, but he had a better idea instead.

"I'm 'bout to go hunting real quick. You wanna come?" He tried to ignore the racing of his heart and waited for your answer, hoping you would accept his invitation.

"Um, I don't know how to skin or gut."

"I'll teach you," he quickly said, hoping he didn't sound desperate.

You tried to hold back the wide smile that wanted to appear on your face and said, "Sure."

~

Carol had just taken down one of the sheets that was hanging on the line, folding it and putting it in her basket, when she heard the familiar loud rumble of Daryl's motorcycle, and she looked up to see him driving toward the gates. She was about to go back and pull another sheet down, when she noticed riding on the back of the bike was you, and you had your arms wrapped around his waist, and a proud grin grew on her face at the sight, happy that her friend was no longer clueless.

#the walking dead #twd #twd imagine #twd x reader #twd x you #the walking dead imagine #the walking dead x reader #twd x black!reader #the walking dead x black!reader #daryl dixon #daryl dixon imagine #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon x black!reader #daryl dixon x black reader #daryl dixon x woc!reader #daryl dixon x you #daryl dixon x y/n #daryl x reader #daryl dixon fluff #daryl dixon x poc!reader #gender neutral reader

[gay-jewish-bucky]

Begging queer gentiles to understand that the centuries-to-millennia old link between queerphobia and antisemitism is what played a major role in Hitler targeting queer people. Jews have been blamed and killed for "corrupting gentiles into homosexuality" and have long been the subject of transphobic and intersexist conspiracies. Queer people being targeted was largely rooted in antisemitism.

Magnus Hirschfeld, who often is cited as evidence that the Nazis targeted queer people first, was a Jew! Many Jewish people were prominent in the early queer liberation movement in Berlin. So much pro-LGBT research and understanding, as well as development of successful SRS techniques, came from Jewish scientists and doctors who were actively fighting for queer rights.

These Jewish pioneers of queer liberation and trans healthcare are the people whose books were burned when the Nazis came for the Institut für Sexualwissenschaft.

Many queer people claim the end of the Holocaust did not bring liberation for queer people. While this is true to an extent, it is intentionally misleading.

Antisemitism and anti-Romani racism (because you never seem to remember Romani people were also main targets) neither started nor ended with the Holocaust. After "liberation" both groups still faced subhuman treatment (many dying in displaced persons camps after surviving death camps), social and legal discrimination, cultural genocide, violence, expulsion, and murder for their ethnic identities.

The narrative that things were magically better is just that: a narrative created by allied nations to sweep their culpability and failings under the rug.

You cannot separate Jewish people and queer people into two distinct camps that never touch, it's not only ahistorical and erases the existence of queer Jews in history as well as Jewish contributions to sexual liberation, but it also contributes to the modern alienation and exclusion that queer Jews face from the queer community.

Gentiles can reblog but are asked to listen and not to comment.

#jumblr #jewish #judaism #antisemitism #tw antisemitism #antisemitism tw #lgbt antisemitism #genocide #holocaust mention #shoah mention #queer antisemitism #anti-romani racism