#lin manuel miranda art

[farbexx]

act1 vs act2 be like (colorized)

[scorpiotea576]

LMM sketch page :)

Sorry about the quality :(

[sodapanque]

Acto 2 || Alexander Hamilton es muy dramático.

[crimzydiamond]

Warriors...come out to playyyeeyyyaaay...

‼️NEW LIN MANUEL MIRANDA'S MUSICAL JUST DROPPED Y'ALL ‼️

[dizzybizz]

finished my rewatch of s1

[daisilynn]

Happy late 4th of July to our founding father Lin Manuel Miranda 🫡🫡🫡🫡🇺🇸

save me Lin Manuel Miranda lip bite photo save me

[savvysquid]

The Hamilton cast sure loves Sesame Street

[kyleetryme]

hbd lin manuel miranda!

happy birfday my king 💜

[dovesnroses]

“I think I see the light of somethin’…”

Lin, you son of a bitch, you got me again. I haven’t stopped listening to Warriors since 10/18. It’s a masterpiece. Listen here.

For your consideration, Swan and Mercy ❤️

[every-momento]

you can go home, but only as a memory

postcard // i had years been from home by emily dickinson // eric hurst // pledging allegiance by noor hindi // letters from home by zarina hasmi // the bedroom by vincent van gogh // breathe by lin manuel miranda // the house that built me by miranda lambert

[farbexx]

!!

[sabugabr]

Days before disaster

[mikqchoux]

i know the greatness lies in you.

[thewizardofschnoz]

Fox from The Warriors

[gossippool]

it's after their first mission together that wade and logan share their first kiss.

the fight leading up to the time ripper took place right outside their apartment with barely any witnesses around, so the journey back home was short and quiet with no prying eyes. after that, it took a while for logan to get out of the house on the regular, but when he eventually did, it was just to walk or carry out errands, and in civilian clothes, he blended in with everyone else. it's different when they get called on a mission for the first time.

it's not a hard mission by any means, but it's brutal. he and wade subdue a dozen men on the streets, chase a final one down to the underground, and turn him over to the police. by the end of it all, the sun is going down, and people are travelling home from work. logan's suit is torn, and his bare arms are caked with dirt and dried blood.

a cab would be the typical mode of transport for them after a mission, but they're already at the station, anyway, so they decide to take the train. a busker sings at the platform with a guitar, a lulling, bittersweet thing, like the soundtrack to a life not deserving of such a melody. in the exhaustion and setting sun, it makes logan long for something he can't name. but they'll be home soon.

they board the train. he leans against one of the poles, feels the cool of the metal seep through his suit and into his spine. the music fades out, and what fades in in its place is the conversation and laughter of the others in the train car. a group of teenagers out having fun, businessmen in suits off work, older people with their grandkids or their shopping bags. wade's warmth opposite him, mask moving as he chatters.

he tries to listen, he really does, but as the train speeds through the tunnel, he feels stares turn slowly towards him from all sides. he smells their slight fear, their judgement, over the odour of him and wade. he realises all at once what he must look like, dirty and covered in blood that can't be his for his lack of open wounds. his exposed knuckles a darker red than the rest of his hands. he covers one hand with the other, unclenches his fists.

he's not one to care about what others think. not before, at least. he's used to glares of resentment and pity for what he did, eyes following him everywhere he went like the phantoms of those he killed. but these people don't know what he's done, and they stare at him all the same. it's almost worse.

for a brief moment, just a moment, he feels a stab of hopelessness. coming to this world felt like a second chance, a chance to start over without the world having to bear the knowledge of his inadequacies. but what if that isn't possible? what if this is all this world ever sees of him? the aftermath, the bloodstained hands, the aged lines of his face that tell them what they want to know. he's no one here, except when people remember him like this.

"peanut?"

wade's voice snaps him out of it, and when he looks up, wade has pulled his mask off. he's about to apologise for not listening when wade smiles slightly at him. it's enough to take the words out of his mouth. wade doesn't ask if logan's okay, but his eyes flicker almost imperceptibly over the other occupants of the train car. then he places a delicate hand on logan's waist and steps closer to him, until he can feel his breath ghosting his lips.

logan just looks up at him, breath caught in his throat. what? he thinks of asking. he doesn't.

wade's other hand trails up to cup his cheek. "let them stare," he says. "they don't know anything."

then he leans down and presses his lips to logan's. the train emerges out of the tunnel and bathes the car in golden light, and all the rest of it fades away.

wade steps back eventually, and logan wants to chase his lips, but instead watches as the shadows of his scars dance across his face with the path of the dying sun. he's so beautiful, logan thinks. he's home.

wade is right; let them stare. all he wants is to find his way home, just like everyone else. that's all anyone wants. and they're all on the same train home.

[delta-back-alive-brother]

Some past art I really like!

(perhaps maybe because Im too lazy to draw today)

(ok erase the perhaps and maybe off-)

(the last two is my current mood)