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“I’m just—it’s a little cold down here, that’s all. I’m not used to being without my gloves.”
I forget, sometimes, that there are people out there who still manage to smile every day, despite everything.
ellery ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪ liked this
But to take out Anderson would be asking for absolute anarchy, all over the country.
Anrkey? How you say a-a- ahh! Anarchy! When I fight I make the other side panicy with my, shot!
aka
lafyette!
I'm takin' this horse by the reigns makin' redcoats redder with bloodstains!
lafyette!
And I'm never gonna stop until I make 'em drop and burn 'em up and scatter their remians, ack! lafyette!
Watch me engagin' 'em escapin' 'em enragin' 'em
lafyette!
Igo to france for more funds, I come back with more guns... and ships... and so the balance shifts. We rondevoue with Rochamboeu, consolidate their gifts. We can end this war at Yorktown, cut them off at sea but - for this to succeed, there is someone else we need. ik! hamilton!
Sir he knows what to do in a trench, inginuitive, and fulent in french
ik
hamilton!
sir you're gonna have to use him eventually, what's he gonna do in a pinch, ami!?
hamilton!
no one has more resiliance or matches my practical, tacticle brilliance!
hamiltion
you wanna fight for your land back? your gonna need your right hanfd man back.
ellery ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪ liked this
I can’t just stop caring about him.
“Ms. Ferrars.”
“He held you captive and managed to fall in love with you in the process.”
But words will live as long as people can remember them. Tattoos, for example, are very hard to forget.” He buttons his button. “I think there’s something about the impermanence of life these days that makes it necessary to etch ink into our skin,” he says. “It reminds us that we’ve been marked by the world, that we’re still alive. That we’ll never forget.”
“I know who I am,” he says. “That’s enough for me.”
Our fight is not against the men, but against their leaders—we must never forget that.
“Because it takes a lot more than blood to be family,” he says. “And I want nothing to do with him. I’d like to be able to watch him die and feel no sympathy, no remorse. He’s the textbook definition of a monster,” Adam says to me. “Just like my dad. And I’ll drop dead before I recognize him as my brother.”
I can’t be my own person if I constantly require someone else to hold me together.
“The truth,” he says, “is a painful reminder of why I prefer to live among the lies.”
I’ve got work to do. People to save. Ladies to impress.
For 17 years I tried to force myself into a mold that I hoped would make other people feel comfortable, safe, unthreatened. And it never helped.

