Rise Up, Oh Heart, For There is Another Battle to Win

Anonymous asked: so i'm assuming that all the reincarnated ham crew look like their musical actors, which, awesome. but i was thinking about jefferson, who was a racist fucker being reincarnated as a black man. like. how would that even go down?

*emerges from cave, shamefaced* Right, so, does anyone remember that this AU exists?  Because I swear to God I didn’t forget, I just only now have had the time.  I actually have a bunch of prompts for it, not all of them are going to get written based on…like…my inspiration level, but also this series is alive again, so like.  Yep.  Here is some Jefferson.  Full disclosure, I dislike Jefferson and think his economic plan was some racist bullshit, so…that is evident.

To all you newcomers, I do recommend reading the other stuff, even if you could probably figure it out.  

All In One Spot AU

So, the academic affairs office holds out longer than their predecessor.  Not by much, but by a little.  It takes two full weeks for Alex to hammer through his petition to be allowed to take more than max credits—and it’s quite a petition.  Angelica takes one look at the twenty-page, double-sided, single-spaced letter to the dean of academics and disavows any involvement, and John grins fondly, remarking that the dean has no idea what he’s gotten into.

The dean, incidentally, has lived his life with pleasantly dim memories of Philedelphia with cobblestone streets and a vague impression that he knows the unfortunate teacher annually strong-armed into teaching History of the American Revolution.  He recalls very little else of his time in the Continental Congress—indeed, at gunpoint he couldn’t have identified what exactly he was doing, back then.

He has a blindingly vivid flashback upon looking at the first page of the letter—the pamphlet, really—and immediately feeds the entire thing through his shredder.

“Jake,” he says, sticking his head out of his office to look at his secretary.

“Yes, sir?”

“Approve whatever Hamilton’s request was before he sends anymore letters.  I’ve seen enough for several lifetimes.”

“You got it, boss,” says Jake, whose past life was a blissfully unremarkable farmer in the Italian countryside and who therefore has no idea that his boss is sparing them all a lot of trouble.

Now, the reason this matters is because Alex walks into his Econ 101 class for the first time two weeks into the semester, takes one look at the lesson outline the grad student wrote on the board, and makes a sound of absolute incoherent horror.

“Oh my god,” Alex says faintly, frozen in place two steps inside the door.  He was never an especially religious person, but he’s wondering if maybe the universe is punishing him for past crimes.  He’s not saying one way or the other if he deserves it, but this seems excessive.  “Jefferson is haunting me from beyond the grave.”

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thesxmmersword:

I am the worst sucker for reincarnated loves like I am the WORST TRASH FOR THAT SHIT

That thing where they first meet again and that expression of confusion bc ‘I know them’

and then they struggle with getting closer for no damn reason but just?? t h e m

And tHEN THEY GET FLASHBACKS OF THE HORRIBLE THINGS THAT TORE THEM APART IN A PREVIOUS LIFE

Or one of them does and they have to stare into that other person’s face every morning knowing they’ll never understand how much they love them

pUNCH ME IN THE FACE AND GIVE ME REINCARNATED SHIP AU’S!!

(via cthulhu-with-a-fez)

snakeassassins:

one thing that’s always bothered me about most people’s depiction of Holmes’s usage of cocaine is that most people in Victorian England were only just beginning to realize how badly it affected people???

like tbh I feel like a better modern equivalent would just be Holmes dumping a five hour energy into his fifth cup of coffee while Watson, a trained medical professional, stares at him in horror

All I can think of is some kind of reincarnation AU where, like, Sherlock and John have been getting reincarnated for a few centuries now and for a few lifetimes finding each other was a struggle because, A, no internet, and, B, “Do you know how many people are named John, John, this is absurd, please keep your birth name even if you like John better.”  But now it’s the modern day so one day this guy just starting med school rolled out of bed and was like “Well that’s different, also I’m changing my name” and immediately sat down at his computer and googled Sherlock Holmes because Sherlock is a bit of a dramatic prick and there’s no way he kept a bland modern name instead of Sherlock.

So they find each other on the internet and meet up and John’s happy, of course, because Sherlock is his soulmate whether you ship it romantically or not.  But also he’s a bit wary.  Because every lifetime has come with some sort of attached stimulant addiction, usually cocaine or something similar, and he’s worried that Sherlock is going to get them both arrested.  On the other hand, John’s made something of a career out of proving that, whatever the stimulant of the day is, it’s dangerous, so Sherlock has unknowingly been involved in a lot of medical revelations and John knows that there’s about a 97% chance that whatever Sherlock’s drug of choice is will probably be revealed as something very dangerous by their next lifetime.

John, a med student who in his last year of undergrad was Known for that one time he finished out finals period at a total of eight days with twenty hours of sleep all told, fueled by Monster and willpower, feels his heart sink a little when Sherlock orders a seven-shot coffee and admits that he drinks at least two a day.

(via skymurdock)

skymurdock asked: pssssst talk to me about Schuyler sisters in reincarnation AU. or more Alex/John whatever. rolls away.

The Schuyler sisters!  My queens!  The rest of the AU is here!

Alicia Laramie is seven years old when she remembers.  Her parents bring home a little girl, and she looks different from the olive-wood skin and tumbling black curls of Alicia and her parents and her little sister Maggie—this girl all gold-tinged ivory skin and silky dark hair framing solemn black eyes. She’s a year younger than Alicia and her parents haven’t even gotten out “This is Lisa Tian” before she’s rushing forward to enfold the girl in her arms.

“Eliza,” Angelica whispers into the girl’s long dark hair.  Bemused, the girl hugs her back, and Angelica says, “I’ll take care of you, Eliza.  You’re the best thing in my life, I’ll choose your happiness every time.”  The girl is confused when Angelica stands back, but she gives a smile, the same sweet smile Angelica remembers, and it’s good.

***

When the fifth grade class goes to the Grange for a field trip, Lisa spends three hours in semi-hysterical sobs, refusing to go through the front door, and the terrified tour guide calls the first emergency number on her phone.  Twenty minutes later, a sixth-grader spills out of a cab and swoops down on her like a hurricane in rose and gold, and Eliza clings to Angelica like the last lifeboat on a sinking ship.  

“It’s okay, Lizzie,” Angelica soothes.

“Angelica, I—I–”

“I know,” Angelica sighs, stroking her hair.  “Take a couple deep breaths, ‘Liza, it’ll pass.”

“I miss him,” Eliza whispers into Angelica’s hip, and the stroking doesn’t pause.

“I know,” Angelica says.  She gives a small, rueful smile.  “That part won’t pass.”

Eliza laughs a little at that, muffled by Angelica’s jacket, and her grip tightens.

***

So…when Maggie Laramie is fourteen their house gets robbed.  She gets caught and held at gunpoint, and she barely manages to not say “My father has gone to raise the Minutemen.” Instead she steadily states that he’s called the police, and when the three guys in black scramble like their lives depend on it, she smiles at her sisters.

“Maggie, that was amazing,” Mrs. Laramie says breathlessly.

“Peggy,” she corrects, and Angelica and Eliza glow.

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Anonymous asked: Psst John and Alexander meeting in your Hamilton Reincarnation fic series?

WOO, I am literal Laurens/Hamilton garbage, tell your friends.  
All In One Spot AU

John has been at Columbia for a year and, honestly, he’s starting to think that he was wrong, that no one else is here.  He walks past the law center every chance he gets, and he doubles the time of the walk from his dorm to the natural sciences building every single day to pass Hamilton Hall.  The statue is…reassuring, somehow, Alexander’s fine-drawn face cast in bronze and a quill in his clever fingers.  When John’s tired, or he’s had a bad night, full of nightmares with bayonets jumbled in with cars, the cinch of a noose tangled with the static of a television, he’ll stop and look at the statue until he can breathe again.

It’s not all bad.  John is in New York City, and he finally gets where Alexander was coming from all those years ago, this might legitimately be the greatest city in the world.  It sure beats South Carolina, hell and gone.  He’s introduced himself to everyone as John, here, and even admitted to a handful of people that he was a soldier in the Revolution.  He doesn’t have any close friends, but he doesn’t have any enemies, either, and the handful of familiar faces who see him when he quietly attends a Pride parade don’t say a word.  He’s taken a handful of prerequisites for a biochem degree, in the pre-med track—he always wanted to be a physician last time, and his father is too distant to fight him this time.  

He spends a little money on a sketchbook or two, on a set of pencils, and draws old faces, tries to imagine them in the modern world.  Lafayette, eyes bright and smiling, dressed in a suit.  General Washington, hands folded behind his back—no matter how many times John tries to give him a modern military uniform, his long heavy coat takes shape.  Aides and friends and soldiers whose faces he half-recalls, in t-shirts and jeans and flannels.  And Alexander, a thousand times Alexander, Alexander in modern clothes, in his Continental Army uniform, in shirtsleeves, in the coat he wears in the statue.  A few times, in the safety of his locked single room, John carefully sketches Alexander stretched out in their cabin at Valley Forge, lit in candle-flame and all smooth planes of muscle and skin, smiling at John, soft and sated.  An entire sketchbook fills itself with Alexander, over John’s first year at Columbia.

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Anonymous asked: A little birdie told me you were taking prompts again AND learning a lot about the Rev War. Hamilton/Laurens reincarnation fic?

All right, I’m HOPING that the birdie in question was the tags on this post: so if you wanted hamilton fic now would be EXACTLY the time to request it i was considering doing one of those ongoing tumblr au things where people could ask for specific scenes because i want to write a reincarnation au for hamilton (probably one of those universes where reincarnation is a little peculiar but not out of the ordinary) and i also wanted to write a college au and i figured i could do both at once but also i don’t know if anyone would be interested in that. Regardless, that is WHAT YOU ARE GETTING.  The way this is basically going to work is that if there’s a scene you particularly want to see or a character you particularly want to have me include, just send me an ask and I’ll write more, I guess.  Because this is something I very much want to write, and it’s also something I very much don’t have the time/motivation to do on my own.  So y’all can do me a solid by sending requests.

Circumstances tend to be the same, in each lifetime—relationships between parents, number of siblings, sometimes even place of birth.  No one’s sure why.  A pretty woman fallen from lofty social status, a wandered-off man, an older brother. If that’s the lot you drew at your first birth, it’s likely to be the one you land the second-third-fourth time around.

The illness hits Christiansted earlier, this time.  Andre Westen is seven, his brother and father already gone.  Last time, his mother got the worst of it—this time, it’s Andre who’s shaking and sick for two weeks, his gaunt and recovering mother clinging to his hand.  He lives, though, and when he opens his eyes after the fever breaks, the first thing out of his mouth is, “I’m going to need to change my name.”  There are conditions in place, laws and qualifiers that allow people to claim their past selves if they prefer and can prove it.  And Andre does prefer, and can prove it.  He’s young for such a powerful revelation—he can recite the names of teachers and colleagues, list details down to the minute, and with so little under his belt of this life, that one seems just as immediate—and it unnerves people to hear him wander from speaking like a child to speaking like a grown man when he’s distracted, but they give him his name.  

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