lin's work

Lin's not chill, he's just tired

Me: Lin is just so cool.

Mom: Yes, you’ve mentioned that before. What made you say it just now?

Me: I don’t know, I mean he won a Pulitzer Prize and all this great stuff and he just seems so untouched by the fame. Like the way he dresses is just so chill and nonchalant.

Mom: It’s the baby.

Me: Huh?

Mom: He’s probably just tired. He has a kid now right? His first one? Yeah, he’s not being chill. He’s tired.

Me: Well-

Mom: No I’m right. See, I remember because I have 5 of them and I’m tired all the time. It’s the kid.

Paper Planes (Lin-Manuel x Reader)

Summary: Soulmate AU where if you throw a paper plane out your window it always makes its way to your soulmate. You can’t write your full name, your location, or any contact info, anything else is fair game. It’s up to fate to bring you together.

Word Count: 1,775

Warnings: Zero proofreading. It’s strictly fluff though so you’re safe here.

A/N: This was such a cute idea and also reminded me of that one Disney short. You know the one. Also, I will jump at any opportunity I can to write sappy love notes and Lin’s messy handwriting. Please don’t ask me about logistics of this, I have no idea what happens if your window is shut and your soulmate throws a plane, I’m just here to write fluff.
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Your parents had told you the story all through your childhood. They would always weave you intricate tales at bedtime about how you might meet your soulmate. Your favorite stories always had a prince playing that role. As you got older the stories evolved from fictitious plots to questions and conversations. 

You received your first letter from him at seven years old. It took you by surprise when the paper plane made of blue construction paper landed on the floor of your bedroom. You scrambled from you bed to scoop it up and inspect it. You unfolded it carefully, flipping it over.

‘ Hi! My name is Lin! ‘

You yelped as if the paper itself had spoken and ran into the living room where your mom was preoccupied with a book. She seemed to notice your panic because her eyes immediately left the pages to study your face.

“They wrote you, didn’t they?” she asked wryly with a twinkle in her eye. You squeaked out a yes, shoving the blue paper towards her. She unfolded it to see the note before chuckling. “Well, are you gonna write them back or not?”

You spent the entire night debating and when your mom came into your room to kiss you goodbye before she left for work she saw you sitting on the floor surrounded in papers. 

“For them or from them?” she asked with an amused smile as she leaned against your doorway.

“For.”

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they are standing in the garden, alexander by eliza’s side

i know this scene has been made into comics about 5000 times, but i felt like drawing flowers so i’m making it 5001

8

I realized

a. Crap I’m a lose my leading lady.
b. This is the best audition ever. She’s winning a Tony…

I was right. She left Heights the next week. We cried a lot. She won the Tony. But not before I made myself this T-Shirt [I Translated West Side Story, Lost My Leading Lady And All I Got Was This Lousy T-Shirt]

Robbed (Lin-Manuel x Reader)

Summary: You admittedly robbed someone of an Oscar. Lin unadmittedly was robbed of an Oscar. But you meet each other so everything turns out okay in the end.

Word Count: 1,400ish (for my first fic? yikes)

Warnings: non-existent knowledge of how the Oscars actually work, a tweet more than 140 characters, shamelessly including a dancing Matt Damon.

A/N: Hi, I’m brand new. My first fic ever. I’m nervous about posting it so any feedback would be greatly appreciated. 

(Yes, I am not over the Oscars yet. In my mind, Lin won and gave an acceptance speech so beautiful I wept.)
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You smoothed out your dress as you posed for pictures. There was no wrinkles or folds that needed smoothing - your handler and stylist had made sure of that - but your nerves made you forget what to do with your hands and apparently smoothing the fabric that was draped around your body was the best thing you could come up with. You attempted to turn towards every direction you were being yelled at from, giving them what you hoped to be good shots, but you were too busy overthinking your every move to care about how good you looked in the pictures.

“[Y/N], Center Stage wants an interview.” your handler stepped in, adjusting the bottom of your dress so you could walk without tripping before leading you further down the red carpet. You marveled at the sheer star power you found yourself surrounded by as you walked. 

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