the new colonialism

2

Black-footed Albatross Chicks Moved to a New Home 

Late at night on February 16, fifteen black-footed albatross chicks made a special landing at Honolulu International Airport. These former residents of Midway Atoll National Wildlife Refuge and Battle of Midway National Memorial were flown from the remote atoll and then transported from the airport to their new home at James Campbell National Wildlife Refuge, on the north shore of Oʻahu. 

These small, fluffy chicks are part of a pioneering effort to establish a new albatross colony in the main Hawaiian Islands. Black-footed albatross nest only on low-lying islands and are at risk of losing their nesting habitat due to rising sea-levels and increasing storm surges…

Read more: http://usfwspacific.tumblr.com/post/157539133800/leaving-on-a-jet-plane-black-footed-albatross

SU Theory: Why They Came To Earth--Pink Diamond’s Role

I have no idea if this has been said or speculated anywhere else in the fandom, but I was looking at those murals of the Diamonds again, and something struck me. Something big. This starts off bizarre but I promise it ties together smoothly.
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White Diamond’s mural depicts her with this giant halo behind her head, a large circle with what I think is supposed to be rays of light shining down. In her hands safely rests Homeworld, secure and strong in her possession. Above her are other planets we assume she conquered.   

Now on to her sisters, Blue and Yellow Diamonds. They have lots of planets around them but look at their heads.

They have much smaller halos. Why? 

Y’know who else has the only other giant halo? 

We can deduce that all that fancy stained glass jazz behind them is what they’re wearing; YD’s huge shoulders and skirt/leg cape…thing, BD’s dress and WD’s full on royal robe. So we can assume that everything shown in these murals means something.

Why are White Diamond and Pink Diamond shown as seemingly more important than the other two? Because they are/were. 

Why? How? Well…

Peridot shared a very important bit of info; Homeworld is running out of resources. Now because of how the show presented it to us, we have no idea for how long Homeworld’s been in that situation. For all we know, it could have been bleeding out for eons now, they live for such a long time. 

By “running out of resources”, consider instead that Peridot meant Homeworld is dying. Considering Peridot came from Homeworld proper and not some colony planet, we know they actively make gems on Homeworld. Safe to say, that’s probably what’s draining it dry. Gemkind is a warring race, they conquer other planets to add to their empire, supposedly so they can make more gems.

Now this may seem like a really stupid question but, I always asked myself, why so many? Managing control over that many colonies on a scale like this would be a nightmare even for them with all their power, even with all of their subjects being loyal. Not to mention what it would take to conquer them in the first place. There had to be a driving reason behind it beyond power lust.

I’ve seen a theory floating around that thinks it’s because the Gems are at war with another, more powerful race. But I don’t think that’s why, Peridot just told us why; her lack of skill, the resources problem;

 The kinds of gems they can make depends on the planet, what it’s made of and how much of it there is!

Out of every planet they own within their empire, I’d bet my Nintendo collection Homeworld is the planet not only with the most resources, but with the most varied kinds of resources! And that’s why Era 2 Peridots are weaker, smaller and have a harder time using abilities and skills their era 1 counterparts would have been able to use easily.

They conquer so many planets so they can make all sorts of gems! This may even explain why certain gems are common af and some are rare! 

Let’s say they only had one or two planets that could produce Sapphires. I’d be resistant to making too many of them at once too, since gem production destroys planets–and less resources means Gems with less prowess over their powers… 

Peridot having a hard time with metalbending is one thing but ehh.. wouldn’t want a Sapphire with faulty Future Vision. Imagine how disastrous that would be. All it took to throw our Sapphire off was a sweet non-conforming Ruby.

And here’s an even bigger bombshell; who’s to say the homeworld Peridot is talking about isn’t the original one?  Maybe Gemkind has had to replace their Homeworld many times. They live forever presumably or until they’re shattered, and even then. I can easily see how one planet alone wouldn’t be nearly enough to keep up with demand.  Blue and Yellow Diamond must have been made somewhere too, anyway.

So that explains the planet-hogging, lets get back down to Earth. Remember the giant halos behind White and Pink Diamond? Yeah, how does any of this relate to those, you ask? Once again, Peri, if you please:

“Resources unique to this world” There it is. Unique enough to make tons of different kinds of gems? Maybe even unique enough to turn the Earth into a New Homeworld?

Yeah, see that sounds like a stretch until I went back and found this.

That’s an Atom. The building block on which all matter is made! Like the matter that makes up the resources they need to produce a full range of gems!! I think Earth Colony wasn’t just a colony. It was going to be a New Homeworld. There are no coincidences in Steven Universe.

We know Blue Diamond was on Earth to fight the rebellion, but maybe she was the original antagonist they had to fight. If Pink Diamond was newly formed when the rebellion started, she’d need someone to guide her. Gems pop out of the ground knowing their place and purpose sure, but this is a Diamond. I have a hard time believing they’d just send a quartz soldier to lead the expedition.

Speaking of the rebellion, that’s another thing. If those planets on the murals are anything to go by, Homeworld has tons of colonies. If the Earth was only going to be a colony, then… here, look at this for a sec.

All of that. For one colony?? Just a colony? Really? No way. This planet was more important to them than that. Either that or the Diamonds are ridiculously psycho.

Finally, lets not forget, a Diamond was made here. That has to hold some significance as they obviously don’t make a new Diamond on every colony they get. Look at Pink Diamond’s pose. The other Diamonds look powerful and in control, she’s bursting from the ground reaching for the Earth, as if she and this planet were some great hope for them.

In Conclusion

That’s why Pink Diamond has the same halo as White Diamond, that’s why they fought so long and hard for the Earth and Pink Diamond; Maybe she was going to be the ruler of a New Homeworld, and our solar system would have become her line of conquered planets. 

Now think of Jasper’s unrelenting self-hatred for failing to protect her Diamond, the Cluster, the fused gem experiments and Yellow Diamond’s utter contempt and hate for the Earth. Yikes. Homeworld is fucked up.


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The latest titanfall update.

“That wasn’t so hard was it?”

Fascism hasn’t come from working class poverty or oppression. That’s a deliberate capitalist intellectual confusion we have to get rid of. The oppression that colonial workers had to endure in Asia, Afrika, Latin America and the Mideast didn’t produce fascism but hopeful, radical left movements of liberation that might have been ultimately subverted, but that also contained the constructive efforts of hundreds of millions of ordinary working people. Centuries of lynchings and police state terror and colonial poverty here in the Black Nation never produced anything like fascism, until neo-colonialism and what Malcolm X called “dollarism” took over. New Afrikan colonial oppression produced so many who were internationalist and forward looking, conscious anti-capitalists with integrity and democratic values. That really represented the historic Black Nation. A people that, however poor, however held low, were predominately working class and at the productive heart of the u.s. empire. A working class culture that had a lived belief in the importance of justice for everyone.

So don’t be thinking that fascism just comes from poverty or recession, because it’s not that way at all. In Euro-America – by far the weathiest nation that’s ever existed since Babylon in biblical times – the growth of white fascism has nothing to do with poverty but everything to do with the crisis of white settlerism.
—  “The Shock of Recognition” by J. Sakai
CHARLES LEE FACTS

1. Started his military career (active duty) when he was 14 years old.

2. Spoke fluent Greek, Latin, French, Spanish, Italian, and German.

3. Inherited what we now know is mental illness, which manifested itself in moodiness and a choleric temper. As Lee himself later admitted, he suffered from a “distemper of … mind”.

4. Five of his siblings died.

6. Married a Canadian Indian during the French and Indian War.

7. Was dubbed by the Canadian Indians “Boiling Water”, a reference to his temper.

8. Was badly wounded defending Ft. Ticonderoga, and when brought back to Long Island to heal, got into a fight with the army surgeon, who then tried to assassinate him.

9. Tried to form two new colonies in the area we know of as Illinois. 

10. While serving in the Polish army, he nearly froze to death in the Balkan mountains.

11. Still serving for Poland, he also survived an earthquake in Constantinople.

12. Dueled an Italian officer, who he shot dead, but lost two fingers in the process of doing so.

13. Called King George III a “dolt”.

14. Only decided Washington was a weak leader when, at Congress’ pressuring, Washington lost over 3,000 men and tons of supplies when he lost Fort Washington instead of retreating with it as Lee had suggested.

15. Washington ordered him to retreat across New Jersey from New York, so, because he was mad, Lee left the army’s column, took a few men with him to a tavern, rented several prostitutes, and was promptly captured by the British the next morning.

16. Owned a Pomeranian named Mr. Spada, which he made Abigail Adams shake its paw. 

Popping the Question

Just a quick one off of Liam helping his best bro, Jaal, prepare to pop the big question.

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“Nervous?” Liam grinned at the fidgeting angara who was sitting on the other end of the couch fussing with his rofjin.

Jaal drew in a deep breath, stilled his hands, and exhaled slowly. “I admit,” he confessed, “I am feeling a bit apprehensive.”

“Well, you shouldn’t be.” Liam leaned over from where he sat and punched the other man lightly on the arm. “We’ve gone over this scenario a hundred times. You’re going to be fine. It’ll all work out, you’ll see. You love her, don’t you?”

“Of, of course I do,” Jaal stuttered, looking slightly offended that Liam would even have to ask him such a question. “Have I not made it clear that my very heart beats for her? That I want nothing more than to remain by her side for the rest of my days?”

“Perfectly clear,” Liam chuckled. “And believe me, the feeling is mutual. Ryder lights up like a Christmas tree every time you walk into the room.”

Jaal looked confused, his mouth turning down at the corners. “Christmas…tree?”

“Never mind,” Liam waved off the question. “I’ll explain it to you later. The point is, you have nothing to worry about. She’s as smitten with you as you are with her. With things beginning to settle down with the Kett and the new colonies up and running, it’s time to look toward the future, you know? Make a home. Make a life…preferably one that doesn’t involve being shot at and traipsing around inside of Remnant vaults.”

Jaal nodded, “I suppose…I suppose you are right. I just…I want this moment to be as perfect as she is.”

“And it will be,” the human man assured. “Everything has been arranged just like you wanted it. I saw to it myself.”

Jaal let out a relieved sigh. “You…are a good friend.”

“I try my best. Which reminds me…” Liam leaned over the arm of the couch and dug around inside of a bag, pulling out a small, black box. “Here,” he pressed it into the other man’s hands. “I went ahead and picked this up for you…well…technically for Ryder.”

Jaal’s face lit up. Excited, he cracked open the box. His large, blue eyes drank in the sight of the small jeweled band nestled within. With slightly trembling fingers, he plucked the ring from its velvet confines to examine it closer. He’d come up with the design himself after learning that humans exchanged jewelry with one another as a symbol of their commitment and he’d wanted to give Ryder something as unique as she was. The angara had no such custom but if it was a part of his Darling One’s culture, he wanted to honor it, to show her the depth of his devotion in a way she was familiar with and would understand.

The blue and purple swirled stone he’d had harvested from his home planet of Havarl glittered from within its silvery setting, reminding him of the vastness of space his love had crossed to come into his life. He felt a smile tug at his lips. It was more than he had expected. Flawless. Almost as beautiful as the woman he hoped would soon be wearing it. His heart stuttered happily in his chest at the thought.

“Well?” Liam pressed, “Its good right?”

“Mmm,” Jaal rumbled. “It is perfect.”

“You want to run through it one more time?”

“Yes,” Jaal nodded. He felt slightly more confident with the ring actually in his hands. “If you do not mind.”

“Sure thing. So,” Liam pushed himself up off of the couch to stand. “From the top then. Just take a deep breath, relax, and pretend that I’m Ryder. You’ve got this.”

“Right. I can do that.” Jaal nodded and also rose from his seat and approached the other man. He closed his eyes for a moment, picturing his beloved in his mind and instantly felt more at peace. More centered. He opened his eyes and gingerly took Liam’s hands into his own, imagining his love’s small, soft hands in their place. Yes. He could do this.

“Sara,” the angara began, swiftly taking a knee as Liam had advised him was traditionally custom for one asking their other half for their hand in marriage. “My heart and my soul, I feel as though I have always loved you…”

At that moment, without warning, the door to Liam’s little sanctuary slid open. Gil, the ship’s resident engineer, came striding in. “Hey, just came to invite you two to…poker…tonight…uh…” Gil blinked. The sight of the crisis specialist seemingly being proposed to by their angaran crew mate, ring and all, stunned him silent for a moment. “I can, uh, I can come back later. Sorry, uh, sorry to interrupt…”

Liam and Jaal stared after the man as he turned swiftly on his heel and disappeared back out the way he had come. Liam looked amused. Jaal’s expression, however, ran more along the lines of acute distress.

The human burst out laughing at the angara’s distraught look, “Better get a move on, mate, if you want to keep the element of surprise. With Gil’s mouth, I give it about a half hour before the whole crew knows something is up. You don’t want him blabbing to the Pathfinder.”

“Shit,” came Jaal’s muttered reply as he quickly rose to his feet and straightened himself. Just like that, the nervous fluttering filled his stomach once more.

Bon Soir [Lafayette x Reader] Part One

Description: You, an American patriot from a loyalist family, catch the eye of the Marquis De Lafayette one night at a tavern. After your first night with the enigmatic frenchman, you realize how turbulent life can really get in a time as turbulent as this. 

Warnings For This Chapter: Smut, alcohol, mild swearing, and mild Lams, where I could slip it in ;) 

Notes: So, there will be five parts to this story. It will, if we’re being honest here, be updated probably once or twice a week until it is finished. This story is a mix of Hamilton’s characters and actual historical stuff, and there will also be lots of appearances from the rev set in this fic, so brrrah, brrrah!! Enjoy. 

||Part Two||


It’s a beautiful night in the colony of New York, the moon full and the usual chill in the air slightly warmed. Besides it being a lovely night, it was also quite rowdy- but during these turbulent times, you couldn’t expect less from the Northern colonies.  

You pull your cloak tighter around your shoulders… it’s really not a night to be out for a lady, but you couldn’t care less. Your family still clings to the proverbial olive branch, one of the less popular voices of loyalist reconciliation. You’re a patriot, through and through, and any chance you have to escape your frankly shameful homestead under an anonymous family name at night to “cavort” with those who share your views on freedom, you take.

Slipping down a dark alley with the hood of your cloak pulled up, you find your way into the even rowdier Fraunces Tavern. Looking around, you smile. Men clinking their sloshing drinks together, shouts and jeers at the king tossed around liberally- this was the beginning of a revolution, and you’d be damned if you missed it.

“You lookin’ for a good time, honey?” some guy with a heavy Boston accent asks you from the table next to the door, and you turn to him.

“I’m looking for a drink, and whatever good time I can derive from that.” The guy still stares at you, waiting for a follow up, so you decide to win even more favour by voicing your views. “Fuck the king?”

The entire table bursts out in cheers and pounds their fists and mugs down repeatedly as you smirk and saunter past them. You get to the bar, and ask for a Sam Adams, before turning around and surveying. To answer the drunk man’s question, you aren’t actively seeking that sort of good time, really… but, nights like these were full of exceptions.

“Here you are, miss,” the friendly bartender nods to you, then pauses, “I’ve seen you in here a couple times now, and I don’t recall your name.” He looks genuinely confused. “Who’s your husband?”  

“I’ll let you know once I find one,” you wink, and cross the tavern to occupy a booth. Just as you’re lifting up your skirts to sit, the door crashes open, and in come four very loud young men.

“What time is it?!” one yells, and the other three yell back, “Showtime!” while cackling and slapping each other on the back.

You roll your eyes again, imagining all the fights they were sure to start tonight. The bartender seems to know them, and pours four ales for them as well. Snatching up his drink, the short one with the ponytail and goatee marches right up to the table in the middle, getting up on it and chugging half his mug.

“To the revolution!” he finally bursts out with, and almost trips off the table. The large one with the beanie catches him, shaking his head with a grin, and the second shortest one with curly hair and freckles joins the talker with a close arm around his shoulder.

“Now this is the place to be, amiright boys?!” freckles shouts, taking a long drink.

“Oui oui, mon ami,” another voice chuckles, and your interest is immediately peaked. A frenchman in the colonies? The excitement of these taverns is incomparable, and it is exciting to say the least to hear someone from so far away- you know a little of the language, or what you had learned as a girl.

You watch in quiet admiration as a tall, athletically built man with dark hair tied up in a bun and a close trimmed beard steps out, carrying two mugs of ale. He hands one to beanie man, and plops his own down on the table. “We must tell the king casse toi with our war effort!”

“We will, Laf,” beanie assures, “But first? Horses.”

“What?” freckles and goatee both say at the same time.

“Corsets,” beanie laughs, rubbing the back of his neck, “I meant corsets.”

“Hercules, you are an idiot,” Laf deadpans.

“I’m the most mature one here,” Hercules shoots back.

“Easy, when tes amis are Alexander Hamilton and John Laurens.”

Hercules lets out a booming laugh, and is soon joined by Laf’s own charming snicker. Alex and John are too enamoured with their own private conversation to notice much.

Your eyes train on Laf. If he was french, he must have a longer name than that… you’re determined to know it. He was undeniably a charmer- he was handsome, dashing as a prince, and very stylish. With the words he had uttered earlier, you found it safe to assume he’s as passionate about American independence as you are.

You make an excuse to walk by.

Heyyy there,” goatee (Alexander)? calls, swivelling his head to look at you.

Bingo.

Hercules lets out a low whistle as you turn to face them. “I don’t mean to be too forward, but madamn.”

"What the ever loving merde is that supposed to mean, Hercules?” Laf’s face scrunches up, and Herc just shrugs.

“Works on most of ‘em.”

“I’m Alexander Hamilton, bastard, orphan, son of a whore,” Alex jumps up, grasping your hands, and you can see the gears in his slightly drunk mind turning. “So I’d love to flirt for like, a really long time because you’re pretty and everything, but there’s a revolution to plot-”

“-And drink to!” John adds.

“-And drink to, as my beautiful lover Jackie just piped in and waaait, I’m probably not supposed to say shit like that in a tavern full of guys who will probably have me castrated for it, but hey, we die like men, right?”

“Yo, um, sorry 'bout him,” John blushes with a slight slur, coming over to guide Alex back to his seat. “He gets- *hic*- chatty when he’s tipsy.” You just laugh, letting them know it’s no big deal. John doesn’t seem very interested in you romantically or sexually, only greets with a good natured- albeit tipsy as well- smile. Hercules gets up to introduce himself.

“Hercules Mulligan. I’m Irish.” He drops his voice down to a whisper. “That’s kind of my thing.” Laf gets up to hip bump Hercules out of the way, take your hand, and press a kiss to it. You blush deeply.

“Bon soir, belle mademoiselle. I am Paul Yves Roch-”

Heeere we go,” Alex slurs.

“-Gilbert de Motier de Marquis de Lafayette,” Laf finishes with a glare to his friends, then turns back to you with a gaze that could only be described as… lust ridden?

“Plaisir,” you reply in french, and his eyes widen, his entire body straightening like an arrow in excitement.

“You speak my mother tongue, cherie?!”

“Only a little,” you confess with a timid giggle, “I’m not French, monsieur Lafayette, only acquired some words from my studies.”

“Gorgeous and intelligent,” he flirts, “A lady after my heart.”

“Handsome and bold,” you volley back, “A man after mine.”

“OHHHH SHIT!” John shouts, and Alex begins to laugh.

“GUESS WHO’S GETTING IT IN TONIGHT?!”

“Not you two,” Laf growls, and John and Alex tumble over each other watching you both. Hercules just rolls his eyes, and downs his drink.

“Care to drink with us?” Lafayette offers, outstretching his hand, and you happily accept. Hercules gets up to grab you another beer, and slides it over to you. John begins to chug his second, and you smirk, taking it as a challenge. Downing yours to the last drop, you’ve finally earned the respect of Hercules Mulligan as he bangs on the table and shakes his head.

“You are getting better and better as the night goes on,” Laf whispers, and you laugh.

“Is that the alcohol talking?”

“On the contrary, cherie, I am still on my first… though I may be thinking with something other than my mind,” he alludes, and you feel a shiver run through you.

He is very attractive.

“What brings you to the colonies?” you ask Lafayette conversationally, and he takes a sip of his ale.

“Revolution.”

“You’re here for congressional duties?” you feign ignorance, though you know how to identify a congressman- powdered wigs, brightly coloured jackets, and stuffy mannerisms. Nothing Laf possessed.

“Ah no, mademoiselle. War is imminent- that is the talk here and overseas. I will fight as one of you for your glorious country!”

“Ayyy, to our fighting frenchman!” Alex lifts his mug, and John raises his as well.

“Very brave,” you murmur, “I wish I could serve in the continental army.”

“You can still do your part at home,” Laf assures, taking your hands excitedly, “You can make gunpowder, you can sew uniforms, you can…” he suddenly hesitates, lowering his eyes, “Pray for and write letters to your husband.”

“Why does everyone in this tavern assume I have a husband?” you tease, and he looks back up.

“Forgive me. No one has, eh… courted you yet?”

“Courted me? Oh, quite a few. I have yet to accept,” you giggle, “I suppose I’m just as hard to please as the next young lady.”

“I, too, have very specific tastes,” he nods, and bites his lip, “Mais, it would be very nice to have a woman to boost my morale on the battlefield.”

“Wait… hey, what’s your name?” John laughs, “We didn’t even ask!”

“Oh,” you blush, eye contact with Lafayette broken, “Um…” You sigh. It shouldn’t be any trouble to give them your real name. “(y/n) (y/l/n).”

Everyone repeats your name, raises a glass, and drinks. Lafayette smirks at you a moment longer, then drinks as well.

As the night wears on, you start to become even closer with the group. Stories are passed around, drinking games are played, and talk that would’ve sounded like treason in many other colonies flowed freely from your mouth with the boys. As the night begins to dwindle with the candles burning down close by, hands begin to wander, skirts began to lift a few inches, and blood begins to rise.

“Raise one last glass to freedom,” John finally says, somewhat soberly, as everyone stands up, “Something they can never take away.”

“No matter what they tell you,” Herc adds, placing a hand over his heart.

“Raise a glass to the… five of us, here tonight,” Alex nods, looking to you, “Our cause is a great one.”

“King George will never stand a chance,” you finish, and everyone downs their last sip and sits back down. With that, Laf takes your hand, rubbing a thumb over your knuckle. You turn to him, and take note of how he’s staring at your lips. Danger and adrenaline course through your veins, imagining just what he could be picturing right now. Practically in his lap by now, you shift your hips a little, and he sucks in a sharp breath.

“It is getting late, ma cherie,” he murmurs, obviously holding back, and begins to stand.

“It is,” you nod, moving to brush your fingers along the hem of his blue coat, and grasp your fingers firmly in his lapel. His eyes dart to meet yours, dark and warning, and his fingers find yours as he lets out a wistful sigh.

“(y/n)… I am a gentleman, and you have had too much to drink.”

“I assure you,” you grin, turning the tables and ghosting a kiss over his knuckles, “I have not.”

He spends a long time staring at you, debating mentally. You can feel him hardening in his breeches under you, but despite his uncomfortable expression and beading sweat, he doesn’t make even the slightest nudge to meet your grinding movements.

“Are you quite certain?” he finally asks, interest beginning to spark again in his eyes as he realizes that maybe you do want him like this.

“All I want is to feel your lips on my neck,” you confirm with a whisper in his ear, and he slots his large hand around your wrist, standing you up. The three others don’t even question it as Laf leads you out the back door, and the once the heavy wooden door closes, you’re both free. He immediately presses the front of you right up against the brick, pulling your hair aside and grazing his teeth over the back of your neck.

“Then, if there are no reservations on either of our parts, I will give you everything you need,” he growls, and continues his attack on your neck, showering kisses up and down. You flip around so that you can face him, and he pins you back again, opening up the neck of your dress just a little more for better access.

Lafayette’s gaze is hungry. Your excitement is known to him as he reaches under your dress, unbuttons your underclothes and realizes you’re already wet for him.

“So eager,” he groans, “Such an eager little kitten, desperate for her papa, hm?”

“Oh,” you sigh, his words sending pulses down to your core. He pulls your underclothes off, but as his long fingers are about to breach you, he pauses.

“You… have been touched or taken before, yes?”

You bite your lip, look around, and nod shyly. If word of that got out around here, you’d be off the market, as it were…. not that you particularly desired to on the market, but that was a different matter entirely. His face blossoms into a grin, and he lifts your legs up to wrap around him.

“Hold onto me, cherie, do not let go,” he murmurs, and once your arms are secure around his neck as well, he uses one hand to unbutton his breeches. You can already see the outline of his large cock, and once he has everything undone, he pulls it out.

“Monsieur, you’re so big,” you whine, and he gazes at you, licking his lips.

“We can make it fit, ma cherie,” he whispers, “Spread your legs a little wider for me… that is it, kitten… like that.”

You keen under the pet name, and he positions himself at your entrance before finally pushing in, groaning together with you as you tighten around him.

“Oui, oui, yes…” he breathes, “That is good… so good for me…” He sucks his lip between his teeth, and after a few seconds, begins to move, nudging you back against the wall with each deep thrust. He’s very large, so he has no trouble hitting that spot that drives you crazy, but he makes it even better when his fingers find your clit; Laf has a different approach than most men do, though- the select few you’d been with (if they make the effort to find it at all) rub with harsh, rough pushes… Lafayette massages you in slow circles, making you moan for him.

Leaning forward, the intensity between you increases as your foreheads meet, lips drifting close to each other and parting, almost kissing but not for minutes at a time. The teasing was getting to him, and he finally surges forward, breathing in your breath. You give his bottom lip a feisty bite, and he smiles, drawing away.

“You are a true northern belle, mademoiselle (y/n),” he mumbles, panting, “You are not like other ladies.”

“Oh, on the contrary sir,” you reply, “I simply don’t bother with the false customs. I say, fuck tradition, and fuck anybody who wishes to advise me otherwise.”

“There is a revolution on because of Americans who share your general mindset, ma chou,” he grins, and kisses you again.

As you both begin to race toward your climax, his thrusts increase, and you’re soon being pounded into the wall, legs tight around his ass and cries being muffled in his blue coat.

“Please… ah, Laf….”

“(y/n), so perfect, j’aime votre parfum…”

As he whispers your name, you hear voices, and turn to see two men walking by the alley on the road, in hats and coats. They sound southern.

“What if th…th-” you gasp, and Laf strokes your cheek.

“They will not see us, it is too dark. Besides, why would anybody pay attention to a stray kitten, begging in an alley, like you?”

“Ah,” you throb again at his dark laugh, and he shrugs.

“Also, the alleyway behind a tavern is where all the drunkards stumble out to vomit. No respectable man or woman wants to see that.”

“What an arousing image,” you scowl, and lean in for another kiss.

“You are so beautiful,” he mumbles against your lips once you part, and licks a line up your neck to just below your ear; you’re losing yourself to the pleasure. “Do you think you can come for me, ma (y/n)?” Laf rasps in your ear, stroking over your clit fondly, and you nod with a little whine, crying out his name softly as he slams in particularly hard. Circling his hips to guide you through a long orgasm, he lets out a little gasp of his own after you’ve finished. As you shake and pant his name, he sets you down carefully before quickly pulling out and taking himself in hand, jerking frantically a couple times and coming like a shot against the brick wall. Your name falls from his lips a few times like a prayer, and soon, you’re both sated and exchanging lazy tongue kisses, tasting each other’s mouths in the night air.

It’s chillier than it was earlier. You should get home before your one of your sisters or father notices you’re gone.

“When do you leave to join the ranks?” you ask, staring into his eyes. He does up his buttons precisely, patiently and one at a time.

“Very soon, I assume, cherie.”

“How very childish of me, but… what you said, about having someone to look out for you…”

“Mmm?”

“Will you…” you look down, embarrassed, and take off a ring on your pinky finger. “Remember me over a couple beers with your friends?”

His eyes light up, and he presses a long kiss to your cheek.

“When I wake up and when I fall asleep, (y/n).”

You smile a little. “Thank you for your service.”

He kisses your hand one last time. “If it takes fighting a war and, eh…” he leans in to your ear, brushing your hair back, “getting better acquainted behind a tavern to meet, it will, most certainly, have been worth it, ma chou,” he smiles back.

You dance and sigh your way home, ignorant of every redcoat who gives you a second dirty look. With men like the Marquis de Lafayette and his friends leading the troops, those bastards’ll be back home where they belong in no time.

Honey is Not Vegan

-Honey bees are bred in factories
-Honey bees are shipped thousands of miles in crates to live in boxes on farms (so they don’t fly off and create new colonies)
-Honey bees work tirelessly to have their honey stolen and replaced by a cheap substitute
-Queen bees are “split open” and forcibly impregnated by farm workers
-Honey bees spread diseases to wild bees
-Honey bees are “incinerated” (industry term) once they are no longer needed

How is eating honey in any way, shape, or form, vegan????