Lots of Hamilton, original fanfiction about TJeffs, James Madison, Hercules Mulligan and Aaron Burr, home of "The Upper Hand" Masterlist
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Alright, so imagine, if you will. Thomas Jefferson making fun of the Hamilsquad in any way possible. short jokes, snide comments, going on and on about every time Alex has ever done anything wrong ever. After he’s finished ranting, (Y/N) blinks, calmly stands up, and says “Bless your heart.” The Hamilsquad, not being southern, has no clue what this means. But Thomas gasps like you’ve just insulted his great ancestors. (Bless your heart=I feel bad for you(r lack of brains) in southern speak)
That’s hilarious! I’d love to see that in a story
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Adventures with the Dad Friend
Hamilton Fanfiction - Revolutionary America
Hercules Mulligan x Reader
Words: 3088
Warnings: none
A/N: Lol, look who’s actually posting original content after almost a year hiatus!! (clue: it’s me) I’ve learned that it’s really hard for me to be creative while I’m in school. It’s almost summer for me, so long story short, I found this mostly finished Hercules Mulligan oneshot in my computer archives and I thought I’d post it just to get back into the groove of creative writing. Lol i haven’t read this in over a year, and I squealed at the end because it was just so darn cute!! ANYWAY, here’s a random oneshot I wrote about Hercules Mulligan and you having an adventure.
Hercules Mulligan.
Many words were used to describe him. His friends called him the “Dad Friend”. His employer called him “resourceful” and “hardworking”. His sister called him “goofball” or “dork”. The ladies called him “cute” and “funny”, though not necessarily “dateable”. Though he was beloved by all, no one would call him “romantic”, or even “sexy”—least of all, you.
Compared to your other friends, Herc was not outstanding. Alexander Hamilton was sexy, brainy, and driven, spewing quotes from Greek and Roman philosophers and pickup lines in the same sentence, his dark gaze boldly making the ladies blush, including you when he got drunk enough to override his inhibitions. John Laurens had a cheeky schoolboy charm, his freckles and long curly hair pulled back into a ponytail making the ladies’ knees weak as he flirted shamelessly. And the Marquis de Lafayette—who could resist a man with a heart of gold and a sexy French accent? He even had a dazzlingly brilliant smile and could cook better than you.
Hercules, however, intimidated everyone with his booming, authoritative presence. His protective, caring nature prompted everyone to call him the “Dad Friend,” the one who always made sure you had enough to eat or went to bed at a decent hour. He was the one who would interfere when John got too drunk and tried to hook up with a girl, sending both home to their respective beds alone. He was the one who extricated Alexander from a verbal argument-turned-fisticuffs merely by glaring at anyone involved until they solemnly hung their heads and returned to opposite ends of the tavern.
When you were with the group, or alone with either Laurens, Alex, or Laf, you were talkative, excitable, and teased the guys as much as they teased you. With Herc, however, there was only strained conversation and awkward silence. You always saw him as daunting, despite the others insisting that Herc was merely a big—albeit, hard-hitting—softie.
As usual, you found yourself sitting at a table in your favorite tavern amongst the Revolutionaries, who came home from Valley Forge after a harrowing month of battling the British. Your attention was drawn to a table toward the back, where a group of four soldiers were more unruly than the rest of the American soldiers that crowded the tavern. The mixture of whiskey and adrenaline from thinking about the new world order George Washington would lead America into after gaining independence from the British had all four men practically standing on the tables and chairs as they yelled at each other.
“We’re in the place to be!” Laurens exclaimed, taking another swig of his beer and surveying the crowded tavern. American soldiers from all over the continent were crammed into the small place. “Let’s stick it to the redcoats, ‘cause imam pop chick-a pop these cops till I’m free!”
“Oui! Tell the king casse-toi!” Laf added, slinging an arm around Herc’s broad shoulders. “Who’s the best? C’est moi!”
Alex, who was standing on a chair, lost his balance. Hercules caught his arm to keep him from falling on his face and chuckled.
“I got y’all knuckleheads in loco parentis,” he reminded them, the Dad Friend to the rescue. “But you gotta slow down with the shots, Alex.”
“But, Herc,” Alex whined as Hercules took his glass, “What are the odds the gods would put us all in one spot? We have to celebrate this fate and hatch a plan to defeat the redcoats!”
“We will, Ham. Tomorrow morning when we go back to the fighting.” Hercules guided all three drunk guys to sit in their chairs and slumped into the chair next to you, his arm brushing against yours.
“We gotta do somethin’ other than talk ‘bout fightin’?” Laurens slurred, bemused.
“Yeah, John,” Herc said, shaking his head at his friends. “Relax, we’re on a break.”
“I know one thing for certain,” Alex piped up, his attention drawn to the bar behind you. “We’re reliable with the ladies!”
You felt your spirits sink as you realized where the guys were going. You really didn’t want to be left alone with Hercules while the guys shamelessly flirted with anything wearing a skirt. Herc, go with them, you mentally urged. Or someone stay here with us, please.
Your heart sunk as John and Lafayette exclaimed unintelligibly, following Hamilton to where a group of three women stood giggling near the bar. The women giggled at the men’s advances, engaging in pretty gross flirting.
Herc’s eyes studied his friends for a long moment before sat facing you in his seat and took a long swig of his beer. An uncomfortable silence fell over your table as you both avoided eye contact with the other. Your fingers folded the corner of your napkin while his thumb tapped rapidly on the handle of his mug. Your mind raced as you tried to think of something to bring up with the intense, intimidating man.
“So, how’s—the war?” you asked, clearly grasping at straws to start a conversation.
He looks at you, eyebrows meeting for one brief moment before assuming a neutral expression. “It’s good, I guess.”
You nod slowly, teeth working your lower lip. He watches you, expression still unreadable. You shift uncomfortably in your seat.
“You were a tailor? Before?”
“An apprentice, actually. I joined the rebellion because I figured it was my chance to socially advance, instead of sewing some pants.”
That was actually a pretty good idea. You had a cousin who’d been an assistant cooper before the French-Indian War. He’d joined the war, risen through the ranks, and gained the title of Captain and a nice piece of land in Virginia at the end.
Hercules took another swig of his beer and looked over his shoulder at Alex, John, and Lafayette. The boys still were flirting with the same women, becoming more touchy as they drank more. He subtly shook his head.
“What’s the matter?” you asked.
“Hmm? Nothing. They’re just getting into trouble again.”
You were silent, studying the group.
“It’s shameful,” he murmured, barely loud enough for you to hear over the cheers as General George Washington entered the tavern.
The general looked almost regal as he stooped through the doorway, hand on the sword at his waist, uniform perfectly pressed and buttoned. The respect his soldiers held for him was evident when a path cleared as the general made his way to where you and Hercules sat.
You and Hercules jumped to your feet.
“General Washington, sir,” you greeted, curtsying to him.
He nodded respectfully at you before returning Hercules’ salute.
Your heart thumped in your chest as the general addressed Hercules, expression cool and collected.
“Soldier, I would like to commend you on your service for this country,” Washington said to Herc. “Your bravery and sacrifice have not gone unnoticed.”
“Thank you, sir,” Hercules breathed, cheeks tingeing red at the attention.
The general made his way to the bar to speak with Hamilton, leaving you in stunned silence. Hercules slowly sunk to his chair and gripped the armrest tightly.
“What did you do?” you finally asked, curiosity killing you.
“I…” he started reluctantly, seeming unwilling to boast about his own accomplishments. Whatever he did, it had to be significant enough for the general of the entire Continental Army personally seek him out and speak to him about it.
“Do you smell that?” His eyes darted around as if trying to find the source of something.
You frowned at his changing the subject and reluctantly sniffed the air. The aroma of baked goods cut through the smell of alcohol and sweaty male bodies.
“I do, actually,” you agreed. “It smells like—”
“Sweet rolls,” you and Hercules said in unison, eyes meeting and laughing.
He grinned shyly at you. “Do you wanna go see if we can get some?”
Your stomach growled as if on cue. “Let’s go!”
He followed you out of the tavern and into the brisk evening air. Outside the bustling tavern, the town was silent, save a few souls walking from pub to home. You inhaled the sweet roll-scented air and sighed happily.
“It’s this way, I think,” Herc said, grabbing your wrist instinctually as he dragged you down the street to your left.
Your heartbeat quickened, not only from the fast pace of your steps as you struggled to keep up with his long legs, but also because of the touch of his calloused fingers on your wrist. Where was this sense of attraction coming from?
The bakery he led you to was closed, but Herc had other ideas:
“If we go around back, I’m sure we can snatch a roll from the kitchens. They must have a window or door open—you can smell it.”
“No, Hercules, that’s stealing,” you protested.
“Only if we get caught,” he said, his voice teasing. “I’m too hungry for this debate of morals.”
Your growling stomach agreed.
“Fine,” you said reluctantly, “but we better not get caught.”
He led you around the back of the bakery, where, indeed, a window was open, wafting sweet roll air into the streets. Herc ducked down so he’s crouching at the side of the window, motioning for you to do the same. You peered stealthily into the kitchen and spot the baker, his back to you as he bent over to retrieve another tray of piping-hot sweet rolls from the oven.
Herc apparently saw the same thing because he motioned silently at you.
Stay there, you thought he said with his hand motions and very serious expression. I’ll get the rolls.
You shake your head. No, I will. My hands are smaller and less easily seen. At least, that’s what you hope you said.
He gave you a look and peeked back into the window, just as the baker turns toward the two of you. Hercules flattened himself against the wall and was silent.
Your heart was beating frantically as you copied his movement, watching as the baker methodically removes the rolls from the tray onto a platter on the windowsill to let them cool. Your adrenaline-heightened sense of hearing noted that the baker walked away from the window.
This was the time to make your move.
You risked another peek into the window, noted that the baker is turned the other way, and quickly grabbed two steaming sweet rolls with your bare hands.
They’re very, very hot.
“Ow!” you exclaimed, dropping them on the cobblestones at your feet.
That got the baker’s attention, and he rushed toward you, his face getting redder with each step.
“Hey, just what do you think you’re doing?”
Hercules acted quickly, materializing a handkerchief and grabbing as many rolls as he can.
Just as the baker reached the windowsill, Hercules stretched for your hand and pulled you with him, fleeing the scene of the crime.
“Come back here!” the baker screamed, leaning out the window.
But you and Herc were long gone, disappearing into the misty network of alleyways.
You and Herc breathlessly laughed and leaned against the brick wall of a nearby store, trying to catch your breath. Your heart beat loudly against your chest.
“I cannot believe we just did that!”
“I can’t believe you almost got us caught!” he retorted.
“How was I supposed to know they were so hot?” You inspected your hand for any lingering burn marks.
He merely chuckled and unfolded his handkerchief, revealing one slightly smashed sweet roll.
“There’s only one, Herc!”
“I guess we need to share, then,” he said, smirking when you blush.
Your fingers touched when you both reached for the roll. You snatched your hand back, giving him the chance to rip off a section of dough and hold it to your lips.
You opened your mouth to protest, but he silenced you by pushing the pastry into your mouth. You tried to laugh and close your mouth, your tongue accidentally brushing the underside of his finger as your lips close around it. His lips part in shock, and he quickly withdrew, plucking a piece of roll and popping it in his mouth. He let you feed yourself until the pastry was gone.
He tucked the handkerchief into his back pocket and met your eyes again, the corner of his mouth jerking up as he tries to fight it.
“What? Why are you laughing at me?” you asked.
“You have a little something—” he reached out a finger and brushed some sugar from the side of your lips, quickly licking it off his finger—“right there. Got it.”
You blushed again, your cheek burning where he touched it. He seemed to realize what he did and tucked his hands into his pockets, swallowing hard.
That traditional, awkward silence fell once more.
You stared at a point beyond him, watching him carefully with your peripheral vision. He rubbed the back of his neck and bit his lower lip. Your heart skipped a beat.
“You never answered my question.”
“What?” He finally met your eyes.
“Back at the tavern, I asked you what the general was talking about.”
He nodded slowly, a faraway look shadowing his eyes. “Oh, that was nothing. I was just serving my country.”
“But he personally came over and commended you in front of everyone.” You knew you were pushing it, but he was being too modest. “He wouldn’t do that for just any old reason.”
“You don’t want to hear about that, Y/N.”
The way he said your name send shivers down your spine, but you kept pressing him:
“Hercules, come on.”
“All right, fine.” He smirked at you. “You’re persistent aren’t you?”
“Herc!”
“I was a spy for General Washington,” he finally confessed. “A tailor spying on the British government. I took their measurements, information, and then I smuggled it to my brother’s revolutionary covenant.”
Your jaw dropped in shock.
“I was just using my skills to serve, Y/N,” he continued, gently pressing your chin back up with the tips of his fingers. “No need to get excited.”
“I’m not excited, you fool!” You hit his bicep with your fist. “I’m furious! That is so incredibly dangerous! What if you were found out? What would they do to you, a traitor?”
The smirk on his lips died, his eyebrows creasing. He leaned away from you and folded his arms. He didn’t want to say anymore, but you had to know. He was your friend, albeit a new one despite your history as awkward friends-of-friends.
“Did they—discover you?”
His silence confirmed your fears.
“Did they hurt you?”
Biting his lower lip, he slowly shrugged off his jacket and pulled his shirt up, exposing his broad, muscled back. If it weren’t for the irritated red stripes crisscrossing his back, you would have been scandalized by his sudden nudity. Instead, you sighed sympathetically.
“My god…”
You gently touched the part of his back that did not look injured, but he winced away from your hand.
“Oh, no, I’m so sorry!”
“No, don’t worry about it, Y/N,” he said, replacing his shirt and jacket with an almost imperceptible grunt of pain.
He was so brave, you realized. He had risked everything to get that information, sacrificed so much. You uncomfortably imagined him being tortured by the Red Coats, the lashes raining down on his broad back as he refused to give up what he knew.
A stray tear streaked down your cheek, and he watched it pensively for a moment before his calloused thumb rubbed it away.
“See, that’s what happens when you up against the ruffians,” he said. “We were in the shit, but somebody had to shovel it. But don’t worry—when you knock me down, I get the fuck back up again. I’ll be fine before you know it.”
You looked at this strong, brave man as if you were seeing him for the first time. His dark eyes held yours this time, refusing to let you look away. His hand gently cupped your cheek, a touch that comforted and turned you on a little. You realized how strong yet gentle this man was. His gruff manner and large body was only a part of who he is. His hand could easily snap your wrist, but he held it gently, guiding it to his chest, right above his heart.
“Y/N,” he said, his voice hoarse, “I’d like to kiss you now.”
A smile washed over your face before you could stop it. “Kiss me.”
He leaned down—he was a good five inches taller than you—and closed his eyes, kissing you so gently you felt like a butterfly was ghosting across your lips. He pulled away too soon, making you giggle.
“What?” he asked.
“That’s all you got?”
“I just didn’t want to—” His eyes darkened as you bite your bottom lip. “Fine. As you wish.”
The next kiss nearly caused your knees to buckle. His hand gently gripped the back of your head, tangling in your hair as his other hand pulled your waist to close the gap between your bodies. You wrapped a leg around his thigh as his tongue teased your lips.
But this time you pulled away first, leaving him wanting more but too much of a gentleman to take it from you without your permission. He looked into your eyes with a soft smile and gently brushed a stray strand of hair behind your ear. Your heart beat faster at the sensual movement.
He cleared his throat, as if just realizing that you two were standing in an alleyway at night.
“We should go back and make sure that the guys haven’t gotten too many drinks splashed on them for their impertinence,” he suggested.
You agreed, and the two of you headed back to the tavern. His hand never left your hand, even when you entered the tavern and found Alex, Laurens, and Lafayette. The guys were too drunk to notice anything out of the ordinary, but as you and Hercules helped get them back to their sleeping quarters, he kept close to you, occasionally touching the small of your back or giving you a knowing look.
After the last of the revolutionaries were tucked soundly in bed, Hercules pulled you to him and kissed you soundly.
“Don’t think I’ve forgotten about you, Y/N,” he murmured in the dark living room, the gruffness in his voice making your toes curl inside your boots. “We’ll have many nights together. But right now, you should really go to bed. Tomorrow is another day to fight.”
#hamilton#hamilton fics#hercules mulligan#hercules mulligan x reader#okieriete onaodowan#hamilton fanfiction#dad friend#dad friend adventures
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Giveaway Contest: We recently reached 50,000 followers, and as a way of thanking you, we’re giving away FIFTY (50!) vintage paperback classics by Albert Camus, John Steinbeck, Carson McCullers, Toni Morrison, George Orwell, Ray Bradbury, Jane Austen, and so many others! Won’t these look lovely on your shelf? :D To win these classics, you must: 1) be following macrolit on Tumblr (yes, we will check. :P), and 2) reblog this post. We will choose a random winner on January 20, at which time we’ll start a new giveaway. And yes, we’ll ship to any country. Easy, right? Good luck!
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The Hamiltons so far.
Bonus:
THE awesome ham4ham - My Shot: All Ladies Version, pulling out all the stop
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Bit of a Flirt
Request: Can you do a TJeffs image with 16,18, 21?
16: You’re cute with glasses. 18: What are you five? 21: Don’t give me that look! It’s not my fault!
Pairing: Thomas Jefferson x Reader
Warning: lots of sexual innuendos/jokes, swearing? but when do i not swear in fics lmao
Kink Tag: none!
Period: Modern
Song: “Thin Air” - Olivia Holt ft. Jordan Fisher
A/N: So I collabed with @daveeddiggsit for this one and it ended up way cuter than we expected?? lol hope you enjoy!! (also there are several criminal minds references bc i’m like that)
You pushed your glasses back up the bridge of your nose as you continued typing away at your final thesis paper of the semester. Hair up in a bun, and some ratty university sweatpants on, you were looking a little worse for wear. But that was normal during finals week, right?
The library you had been holed up in for the past five hours was dead silent, allowing you to completely focus on your paper. Your eyes were glued to your laptop screen when you heard the sound of a chair scraping backwards but you were too in the zone to look up. As long as they didn’t disrupt your concentration, you’d be good.
“You ever think that the reason you’re wearing glasses is because you’ve been staring at that screen pretty closely for about two hours straight?” You heard a curious, deep voice interrupt your thoughts.
“You ever think about how the library is a quiet place for people to work,” you retorted without looking away from your screen.
“If you really want a quiet place to work, we could head back to my place and work on some other things too, if you know what I mean.” You could practically hear the smirk grow on his face.
“That sounds like one of the first lines in a Criminal Minds episode. Hard pass.”
“You like Criminal Minds? How about you let me profile you.”
You finally glanced over and you could see that there definitely was a smirk on the very attractive man’s face. His hair was wildly curly, yet somehow tamable to an extent, facial hair adorned his defined jawline, and his amused brown eyes stared into your slightly-narrowed ones.
If you weren’t supposed to email this paper to your professor in six hours, you probably would’ve taken him up on his advances, but what was more attractive than Smirky Guy was an A on your paper. Which you then turned back to.
“Are you seriously just going to keep ignoring me?” He asked.
“Yup.”
“I’m just going to keep flirting with you until you talk to me.”
“You call saying random pick up lines to a girl whose name you don’t know and receiving little to no response flirting?”
“Yup.” He said, mocking you.
You rolled your eyes and continued to type your paper.
“Aww, come on, four eyes, take a break and talk to me. It won’t hurt anyone.”
You completely turned to him. “‘Four eyes,’ really?” You raised an eyebrow at him. “What are you, five?”
“Hey, ‘four eyes’ isn’t a bad thing. You look cute in glasses.” He grinned at you and even added a wink this time.
Keep reading
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Here’s this little gem, the original “One last time”
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alright but Alexander probably wakes Burr up in the middle of the night to ask him ridiculous questions and Aaron really wants to ignore him and go back to sleep, but its them so an hour later, its four am and they’re arguing in the kitchen in nothing but their boxers, laptops in hand so they can back up their argument with facts
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can you believe this is a thing that actually happened
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everyone who reblogs this by Oct. 15 gets an aesthetic photo corresponding to their blog
have ur submit box open pls!!! :3c
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my name is Burr
i praktis law
my bursar got
puncht in the jaw
a hamilton
my new best friend
annoyes me so
i make him end
he fukks thins up
both day and nyte
and givs the ladies
lots of fryte
he maks me mad
so i say ‘danm’
i track him down
i kill the ham
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Conversation
College Majors as lines from Hamilton
Psychology: Some men say that I'm intense or I'm insane
Chemistry: SHA-BOOM
Accounting: We need to handle our financial situation
History: But Jesus between all the bleeding and fighting I've been reading and writing
Business: Shake hands with him, charm her
English: He started retreatin and readin every treatise on the shelf
Creative writing: You built me palaces out of paragraphs
Criminal justice: Stay out of trouble and you double your choices
Pre Med/Nursing: Stay alive
Education: Give us a verse, drop some knowledge
Theater: Yo yo yo what time is it? SHOW TIME!
Music: You changed the melody every time
Foreign language: I came from afar just to say "bonsoir!"
Political Science: Don't modulate the key then not debate with me
Current Affairs: How lucky we are to be alive right now, history is happening
Fashion: I think your pants look hot
Philosophy: You want a revolution, I want a revelation
Theology: I'm searching and scanning for answers in every line
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Conversation
Fanfiction: A strange phenomenon in which obsessive readers quit caring about physical books only to become even more obsessive readers.
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White House Digital #HAM4HAM 3/19-16 - Jefferson’s Band
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THINGS MORE PEOPLE NEED TO KNOW ABOUT LAFAYETTE
-wrote in all caps in his letters when he was excited
-slept under a tree with Washington after the battle of Monmouth, both enveloped in Washington’s cape
-basically saved the life of the Queen by kissing her hand
-re-gifted a fucking aligator to President John Quincy Adams cause he didn’t know what the fuck to do with it
-wanted to go kill the Beast of Gévaudan (some big scary people-eating wolf that scared the shit out of the french at the time) by himself at like 6 years old
-called both Jefferson and Washington on their bullshit, telling them to free all their slaves… neither listened
-actually bought an entire island full of slaves with his wife Adrienne and freed them all, gave them money for the work they did, gave them education
-last letter he wrote before his death was about freeing slaves and how sad he was that France was taking so long to give people of colour the same rights than white people
-died holding a picture of his dead-wife to his heart
-cried with Jefferson when they met for the first time in years after both American and French revolutions
-continued to fight and got back on his horse when he was shot in the leg during his first battle
-called his only son “George Washington de Lafayette”
-was socially awkward af, especially when he was young
-a ginger
-left France to go fight for America when the King, his step family, and basically the whole court told him “no”
-had to sneak out of France
-sources differ, but probably left disguised as a woman so no one would recognised him
-gave the biggest symbol of French Revolution (the key of the just-destroyed Bastille, a prison where the enemies of the King and Kingdom were imprisoned) to Washington
-orphan
-told Washington he was his lost father
-tripped when dancing with the Queen of France and never heard the end of it
-had “sleepovers” on the grass with John Laurens and Alexander Hamilton where they talked about politic
-threw himself in front of a loaded cannon ready to shoot to try to stop an event of the french Revolution to become too bloody
-at some point, pretty much everyone in France wanted him dead
-slept through two of the biggest events of the french Revolution lol
-gave money and helped a lot of poor farmers in need
-fought for other religions than his and the King’s own to be respected and have the same rights (specifically fought for Protestant and Jewish people)
-fought against death penalties
-brought back some dirt from America and told his son to put it on top of his grave when he dies
-redecorated his whole house in France just like American’s homes
-actually told people he was American
-altogether had a slight obsessing problem with America
-had his own room at Washington’s home
-had a ring with Washington’s hair in it
-was one of the richest man in France at the age of 12 because his whole family had basically died at that point
-changed back his family motto to “Why not?”
-was only 19 when he left for America
-was detained in horrible conditions in prison for 5 years (2 of which with his wife and daughters)
-refused the hell out of several powerful positions in politic and in the army because he didn’t found these to be close enough to his ideals of freedom and shit
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Who's waiting for me when I step in the place?
My friend James Madison red in the face He grabs my arm and I respond
“What’s going on?”
“Thomas, we are engaged.” *kneels on one knee holding a shiny ring**
Thomas: *gasp*
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sydneyharcourt: Don’t say I never gave you anything…
Dear Lord, please listen to this. This is clearly during the Tonys rehearsal. Even just sitting in the theatre’s seats, not on stage, no acting… Just the HARMONIES…. It’s SO gorgeous.
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