hamilton building

TRADING SUGAR CANE AND RUM AND ALL THE THINGS HE CAN’T AFFORD *slides under a table* sCAMMING *throws table* FOR EVERY BOOK HE CAN GET HIS HANDS ON *rips off tables leg* pLANNING *smashes window* FOR THE FUTURE SEE HIM NOW AS HE STANDS ON THE BOW OF A SHIP *soars through window* HEADING FOR A NEW LAND!! *sticks the landing* IN NEW YORK YOU CAN BE A NEW MAN *jumps onto moving car* IN NEW YORK YOU CAN BEEEEE A NEWW MAAAAN *jumps from car to car* IN NEW YORK YOU CAAN BE A NEW MAAAN *flies over car* IN NEW YORK YOU CAN BE AA NEEWW MAAAN *backflips* IN NEEEWWW YOOORRKK !!! *rips off shirt* JSUT YOUUUW AAAIITT *climbs building* ALEXANDER HAMILTON! ALEXANDER HAMILTON! *swings off pipe* WE ARE WAitING IN THE WINGS FOR YoOOoOOu! *flings body onto the roof* YOU COULD NEVER BACK DOWN *jumps onto next roof* YOU NEVER LEARNED TO TAKE YOUR *jumps off* TIIIIIIIIIImMMEE!!! *lands* ALEXANDER HAMILTON! *waves american flag* WHEN AMERICA SINGS FOR YOOOOU!! *grabs megaphone* WILL THEY KNOW WHAT YOU OVERCAME?!? *throws money around* WILL THEY KNOW YOU REWROTE THE GAAAaAaMEE?! *lunges at people with the flag* THE WOoOORRLD WILL NEVEeER BEEE THE SAMEEE OHHHOHOHHH *jumps onto pool floatie* THE SHIP IS IN THE HARBOR NOW *flips pool over* SEE IF YOU CAN SPOT HIM!! *climbs tree* ANOTHER IMMIGRANT COMIN UP FROM THE BOTTOM *pulls out prop chest* HIS ENEMIES DESTROYED HIS REP AMERICA FORGOT HIM *grabs baguette* WE FOUGHT WITH HIM! *draws freckles on face* ME? I DIED FOR HIM *chops down tree* ME? I TRUSTED HIM *raises voice* ME? I LOVED HIM! *clutches chest* and me? *rips out beating heart* IM THE DAMN FOOL THAT SHOT HIM 


Lin-Manuel Miranda’s Groundbreaking Hip-Hop Musical, Hamilton, Hits Broadway:

When the curtain rises on that something this month, audiences will find themselves face-to-face with a past that feels as alive as the present, with Aaron Burr (Leslie Odom, Jr.), James Madison (Okieriete Onaodowan), Thomas Jefferson (Diggs), and George Washington (Jackson) strutting onto the stage—a rap crew in costume designer Paul Tazewell’s frock coats and breeches—and Burr asking:

How does a bastard, orphan, son of a whore and a
Scotsman, dropped in the middle of a forgotten
Spot in the Caribbean by Providence, impoverished, in squalor
Grow up to be a hero and a scholar?

From Kail’s fluid staging to Andy Blankenbuehler’s sexy, propulsive choreography, the number crackles with the fierce urgency of now. David Korins’s bi-level set of shipbuilders’ wood and brick invokes an unfinished country, populated by an ensemble that looks on as the action unfolds, witnesses (as we are) to history. “Musicals are about transitions,” Kail says. “I knew that every scene change would be done by the people who were building America.”

Pity Party (Poly!Hamilsquad x Reader) *Epilogue*

Originally posted by clinatasha

Pairing: Poly!Hamilsquad x Reader

Requested?: BY A LOT OF YOU

Prompt: The aftermath of “Pity Party

Words: 1500+

Warnings: Fluff!

Masterlist // Part One



“H-Hey, (Y/N)! It’s Alexander… Er, Hamilton, if you had forgotten. It’s been a couple of days since you left and I know I’ve said it before but I’m so sorry for forgetting your birthday. I know the guys and I have been calling you non-stop but it’s because we care about you! I’ve been working on my novel like I told you I would. It’s been a slow process but I’ve managed to finish the first ten chapters! Only twelve more to go and I’ll be done! …. (Y/N), my darling, we still love you so much. Please call me back soon and please come home! I’ll call you as soon as I can. Have a good day, my love. Bye.




"Mon Amour! It is I, your favorite Frenchman! The boys and I are very worried about you, especially Alexander. Poor thing, always worrying if you’re dead or found someone else. Well, you kinda did get married to the most clingy one out of all of us. He hasn’t been eating that much as of late because he’s always worrying about you and his novel. Herc has been working on a dress for you too, Mon Amour. It’s pale blue and white, your favorite colors! John has been painting a lot lately too, mainly portraits of you. I’ve been writing more songs. But they really aren’t as good as the ones you write… (Y/N), please come home. We miss you so much and we are all so sorry for forgetting your birthday. Work has been hell, as you could tell. Please call me when you can, okay? Je t’aime, mon angel. Adieu.




"Hey, baby girl! It’s Laurens. Hehe, how have you been, beautiful? It’s been a few days since I saw your pretty face. You’re not still mad about your birthday, right? I’ve already sent at least twenty voicemails apologizing. Alex sent about forty. You know how he gets. So, I had been painting more. Remember that art gallery who wanted a piece of mine to display? They loved this one portrait I did last Wednesday and accepted it! It was a portrait of you back when you used to be a ballerina in high school. I painted it by memory. … Um, you know we love you, right? We are really sorry for forgetting your birthday. I had a present planned out and I might be able to finish it soon! I’ll call you when I’m done, okay? I gotta go. I’m expecting a phone call from the gallery so they can display another piece. Love you, baby girl! Bye!”




“Hey, (Y/N). If you can’t tell from my voice, it’s Hercules. You’re probably at work right now and don’t want to hear from us but please call me when you can. We miss you, and Alex is falling apart because he’s worried about you. I’ve been working on a birthday present for you for the past few weeks and I finally finished it! It’s that blue and white dress you told me you would wear. I need to wrap it up for you when you get home. … You are coming home, right? Please come home, (Y/N). Call me when you get this! I have to go now. Love you!”



You stared into your cup of coffee with such concentration. It was a sunny Sunday afternoon, four days after your birthday. You’ve been staying at Eliza’s apartment (that was three floors up from your apartment) since you left the apartment you shared with your husband and three boyfriends (blame John for your drunken marriage to Alexander four years ago in Vegas). You stopped being mad the morning after you left and now you didn’t want to face them. You felt so stupid about being upset over something you couldn’t change. Alexander was a best-selling author, Lafayette was a really popular singer, John was a popular artist, Hercules was a fashion designer who worked with popular New York brands, and you were a full-time nurse who worked ten to fifteen hours a day, five days a week. Of course, you were going to be busy all week. The only days you got to see your boys were weekends and they were usually working while you slept. But at least you got to see them. You were stressed most of the time that you did forget a birthday or an anniversary a couple of times. You were being a hypocrite.


You looked up to see Eliza strolling over to you, a worried look on her soft features. She has been worried about you since you got here as a crying mess. You’ve been working more hours these past few days and you constantly ignored your lovers and spent most mornings in bed. You haven’t been that motivated lately. Eliza and her sisters had to force you to get out of bed for work lately. There was probably something wrong with you. 

“You haven’t been yourself lately,” Eliza said as she sat down next to you. “(Y/N), you need to talk to them.”

You shook your head. “They probably don’t want to talk to me.”

“Bullshit, (Y/N)!” Eliza cried, causing you to look at her with wide eyes. “Those boys have been calling you non-stop since you left! Those voicemails, they are pleading you to go back home and they’re apologizing over and over. Alexander is crying in most of them too! You must be deaf to not hear how much they love you and want to back home.”

The moment Eliza stopped talking, your phone began to ring and vibrate. It was Alexander. You stared at the phone as it rang, Alexander’s ringtone (which was a recording of him singing “You Are My Sunshine” by Johnny Cash) filling the air. Eliza picked up your phone and put it in your hand. 

“Answer it, dear,” Eliza said as she smiled at you. “You need to talk to him.”

You nodded and accepted the call, pulling the phone to your ear. “Hey, Alex.” 

You heard him gasp and let out a sound of surprise. “(Y/N)! My love, you answered!” 

You nodded, a smile subconsciously forming on your face. “Hey, can you come pick me up?”

“Why? Did something happen? Don’t you have work today?”

You shrugged. “I took today off. I’m ready to come home.”

Alexander chuckled. “Y-Yeah! I’ll be there in ten minutes.”

You nodded before hanging up. You went into the guest room you were staying in and collected your nurse scrubs, bag, and coat. You ran a hand through your messy hair and almost jumped out of your skin when the doorbell rang and feverish knocking came from the door. Eliza saw you holding your stuff and smiled at you.

“You can keep those.” She said, motioning to the tank top and sweatpants you wore. She walked over and opened the door, standing out of the way so Alexander could have a clear view of you. 

He was a mess. Alexander’s hair was more messy and unkempt than usual. His clothes were wrinkled and the dark circles under his eyes were turning black. His goatee was growing into a beard. His eyes were bloodshot. 

“You look like shit, Alex.” You said, breaking the silence. 

Alexander strolled over to you and pulled you into a bear hug. He held you as whimpers left his lips. You hugged back as you buried your face in his shoulder. You heard footsteps and looked up, seeing the rest of the Hamilsquad come rushing into the room and joining the group hug. You stood still and held onto the boys for what felt like forever. You didn’t want to let go. You missed their touches and scents so much. You regret leaving over something so stupid like a day of the year. There’ll be more birthdays to remember. There’ll be more important things to get angry about. This isn’t one of them. This shouldn’t have gotten to you. You felt so stupid. 

But, everything was okay now. You had your boys. You had them, and they had you. You could go home and open their late presents and eat ice cream until your sick. You can have a Disney marathon and play Mario Kart until your fingers were numb. You can fall asleep in the arms of the men you loved. That’s all you wanted. That’s all you need.

And that’s what you’re getting.

Tags!!: @hamilton–trassh @building-palaces-from-paragraphs @artisticgamer @iamnotthrowingawaymyshit @tom-is-on-fire @megabooklover18 @hamilsontrash @dear-alexander @wafflersinabox @katrinathepest @bumbleliv @imagineham @the-a-ham


New York. The Grange, 143rd Street and Convent Ave, 1893. 

When Alexander Hamilton was building his country home, The Grange, in 1802, he planted 13 Sweet Gum trees near the entrance to represent the original 13 Colonies. His home was moved in 1889 as the Manhattan street grid was extended north, leaving the trees in a lot next to Saint Luke’s Church, which then owned the property. All the trees were cut down in December, 1908, because PROGRESS.


& me?

Face Down

Pairing: Lavender Brown x Astoria Greengrass

Setting: Modern, non-magical, prep school zombie apocalypse AU

Word Count: 1,229

Written For: @borginburks [#payback2k15]

Lavender Brown gets her heart broken by Ron Weasley in the spring.

She spends an entire weekend re-watching all the depressing parts of Love, Actually and crying into Parvati’s mint green Kate Spade pillowcase and it’s cathartic, mostly, because by Monday morning she’s back to using her own bronze-blonde bobby pins and spot-blending her under-eye concealer and bickering with Daphne Greengrass about leaving slimy salon-grade conditioner residue on their tiled shower floor—and if Lavender still feels a little like the world is ending when she thinks about how many of her Firsts she hadn’t even hesitated to give to Ron Weasley—


Two days before prom, the world actually ends.

It’s like The Walking Dead without rednecks.

The two hundred year-old graveyard out by the lacrosse field turns into a warzone—mostly-rotted corpses punch through the summer-softened earth and storm the locker rooms and it’s so horrifying and so utterly ludicrous that Lavender can’t help but unleash a torrent of hysterical giggles when Daphne’s little sister makes a Hocus Pocus joke by asking when Bette Midler is going to be by to collect her boyfriends.

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