Wttt Og 13 - Tumblr Posts
The Matter of Currency
The Coinage Act of 1792.
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The States have always been confrontational. Centuries under England’s thumb, only to finally be free of it, had made them so.
It was something Congress and Assistant knew well.
They fought each other regularly, though it could often be labeled ‘affectionate fist fighting’, and was often described as such. They’re more aggressive than passive a majority of the time, especially when dealing with other countries or their own politicians.
Sometimes they fight Congress and Assistant.
It’s possible their parents and uncles sometimes forget that they don’t make the decisions, and act mostly as messengers.
Vermont was at home, still too young to join them in meetings, but in a few years time he’ll have a seat, just as his grandparents and parents do.
So they sit at the head of the meeting table, 13 other personifications arguing and yelling, standing and nearing an all-out brawl on the wooden finish. Chairs shoved back as fists slam on the table.
Congress liked that table.
He and Assistant shared a look.
They have a purpose, one that they were made for.
A purpose that needs to be fulfilled.
“I understand the issue today is the matter of each State’s individual currency, yes?” he clears his throat as 13 snarling faces turn to him, but he doesn’t flinch. He’s seen scarier things, he’s fought scarier things.
The supernatural of America were quite extensive, but at least they knew not to mess with him and those he considers his, now.
“It was a matter brought up by President Washington and his Cabinet. Secretary Hamilton fleshed out the finer details…” he makes an unnoticed motion, barely a flick of the eyes or twitch of a finger— but Assistant, his Robin, notices. She places a copy of the document, hand-written by the two of them, in front of each State and is back in her seat before anyone sees her move.
States grumble, moving their chairs back into position, but they sit down, they focus, and they stay quiet.
Despite their confrontational behavior, they know how to be civil.
“As of today, the second of April, 1792, the Coinage Act– also known as the Mint Act— has been passed. A Standardized National Currency has been agreed upon, fleshed out, and the construction of the first mint, where currency will be created, will begin in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania.”
The moment the bill passed, he felt the weakness and illness he faced near constantly cease almost entirely. So many separate currencies, ones that couldn’t even be used in other States, had made him ill with the division of the Nation. With one issue solved, he already felt…less ill than usual.
He waits, watches with folded hands and dim smile as each State flicks through the booklets. He sees some brows pinch, others smooth over, and quiet mutterings to themselves as he awaits their response.
“Why Philadelphia?” Someone asks– Delaware, Uncle Davie– and Congress turns his head in his direction.
“It was the first Unofficial Capital of America,” the response come easy to him, “and the President agreed it was best to have National currency formed at the heart of the Nation.” his smile grows a bit at the thought of the City, his older brother. Philly was as excited as a kid in a candy store to be the city chosen for it, “Are there any other questions?”
There were none, they all knew how to read and would rather read the document than ask.
Congress nods.
“All right, that is all for now. Things are slow going, I’m aware, but please remain patient.” he reassures, smiling still as chairs shift and grumbling filters out of the room.
He sighs, burying his head in his hands.
A light touch on his shoulder, and he turns.
Robin looks at him in concern.
He smiles, still.
“Are you alright, Adam?” she asks, brows furrowed.
He nods, “I’m alright, dear.” he mutters, “A little tired, I suppose.”
“Do you need help returning home?”
“No, no.” he waves, “I’m fine, dear. I still have some work to do, but I’ll be home by supper, I swear.”
Robin narrows her eyes, as lively as an ocean storm, as she settles her fists on her hips. They stare at one another for a moment, neither backing down– even though it wasn’t anything of the sort, he knew his dear wife was worried.
Robin huffs.
“Alright, then. I’ll see you at supper,” she waves a finger at him threateningly, “Do not be late, my love.”
“Of course not,” he agrees, “I’m sure Isaac is getting restless, though.”
Robin humphs once again, before a crackle and the feeling of static consume the room— and he blinks, and she’s gone.
He relaxes further into his chair, running a hand down his face.
He opens his eyes once again, nearly falling back out of his chair when he sees his Mapa, Virginia, standing in front of him with a similarly worried expression.
“Are you alright, kiddo?” they ask, raising the back of their hand to his forehead, “You’re look unwell, honey.”
“I’m fine,” he says, “A lot better, actually. This act they passed has helped a lot more than expected.” still, he lets the Southerner check his temperature.
His parents and Uncles were aware of how the State of the Nation’s Unity affected him, but there really wasn’t much they— as personifications— could do.
It also strikes him about how differently they check in on him.
His Mapa and Papa don’t hide their concern, lifting their hands to check his temperature without acknowledging anyone around them. His Pop does it slightly differently, and doesn’t often check when around humans. He doesn’t trust them, Congress thinks, even despite his Pop’s massive stature.
Pa is discreet, doesn’t often need to check, because he somehow just knows most of the time. But, when he does check, he does it discreetly, usually disguised as a comforting motion; such as a hug, and always in private.
Mapa’s expression is still pinched, still unsatisfied with the faint fever constantly radiating from Congress, even if it has gone down quite a bit over night.
“I’m fine, Mapa.” he says sincerely, “I just have a bit more work to do and then I’ll go home and rest, I promise.”
Green eyes glare into his own, before there’s a hum.
“Alright, Adam.” The State says, “But– I’ll be popping by to check later, so don’t go gettin’ into no funny business, young man. I’d have to tell yer Pa!”
“I won’t.” he smiles up at them, “Have a good day, Mapa.”
The State ruffles his hair, kisses his forehead, and leaves with a Pop!
And he’s alone.
With the memory of his parents' comfort and the knowledge of his wife back home with their children, he sets to work.
President Washington, he writes, his eagle feather quill in hand.
The proposed Apportionment Act may need some fine-tuning, but as of now it seems the best it can be. We won’t know what needs to be changed until it’s implemented, and issues we haven’t thought of arise…
September, 1774
The day Congress and Assistant appear.
———————————————————————
Virginia had been the first person Pennsylvania thought to call when two 10-year-old children appeared in his home with no rhyme or reason. Their eyes were bright and they were smiling, swinging their legs back and forth on the bench, where he had woken up to find them.
It had ended with all 13 of them in his house, staring across his dining table at the children.
The boy had the same hair color Pennsylvania himself did, with bright green eyes– like the forests themselves– and pale skin. The girl had darker skin than the boy, with darker, curlier hair, eyes the color of an ocean storm. The boy had nothing over his waistcoat and trousers, the girl wore no shoes, and what clothes they did have were dirty and torn at the edges, smudges of dirt across their faces and under their nails. He’s sure he saw a twig or two in their hair as well. It was as if they were in the forest for years.
“Ya sure the door wasn’t unlocked?” New Jersey asked bitingly, eyes narrow and hands on his hip, and Pennsylvania knew he was feeling those ‘Jersey Mom’ instincts.
“‘M tellin’ ya J, doors and windows are all locked, and I rechecked them after I woke up. None of them were messed with.” he runs his hands through his hair in exasperation, “I don’t know how they got in!”
“Then let’s ask ‘em.” Virginia shrugs, taking a few steps to stand closer to the children. They stop just in front of the table, burning green eyes– the boy’s match– looking down on beaming, childish faces, “How’d you two get in ‘ere?”
The boy tilts his head, and the girls’ eyes flicker for half a second.
“We don’t know.” the boy says, unsure, blinking in surprise– as if the sound of his own voice was something he never heard before, “We woke up here.”
The girl nodded, “We know you.”
Their voices don’t have infection, sounding blank and empty. They sound young and yet so old.
“They look kinda blank, hon’,” Maryland whispers, leaning close to Pennsylvania’s shoulder, “They alright?”
“Yeah, I’m sure they are– but who are they?”
They turn to face him, and the boy holds his right hand to his heart- smile broadening. “I am Continental Congress,” he introduces himself, gesturing to the girl at his side, “This is Executive Assistant.”
The girl tilts her head in acknowledgment.
The Thirteen stare at them, and Virginia beams.
“That answers that question.” Georgia says as he rounds the table– his large stature absolutely dwarfing the children, and the Southern-most colony grins, “Awe, lookit, Ginia; he’s got yer eyes.” he rests a large hand on the boys tiny shoulder, “Same shade ‘n everything.”
Virginia bends down, taking a closer look, “S’ppose he does! And he’s got Penn’s hair and Mary’s skintone– Geo, he’s got yer face shape!”
“Boys’ got the good genes!” Mary laughs, hopping over to squeeze between the two southerners.
Before they know it, the 13 colonies are crowded around the children, prodding gently– Penn thinks he sees Jersey pluck a leaf from the girls dark brown hair– the same color as the Gardener’s own.
“They could learn to sit proper,” New Hampshire mumbles, hand to his chin in thought.
“They’ll need a good scrub.” North Carolina agrees, South nodding sagely, “Gotta get ‘em new clothes too– think any of the Cities old clothes will fit ‘em?”
New York grumbles something, “Nicky and Albany were about their size– I got some of those in storage. Gimme a minute.”
And he pops away.
Delaware crosses his arms with a furrowed brow.
“Connie– let’s go get some wata for ‘em. They’re filthy.”
Connecticut nods, and then they’re gone as well.
Pennsylvania stares at the two of them, before he sighs.
“I’m gonna guess the two of yous don’t know how ta bathe.”
The silent blink and wide eyes were all the answer he needed.
———————————————————————
Georgia and Jersey, with the most parental instincts for strange kids who randomly appeared in Penn’s house, were the ones given bath duty for the two rugrats. Which Jersey grumbled about, even as he carefully carried the tiny girl away.
And that left the rest of them to discussion.
“The boy’s Congress, yeah? So it makes the most sense for him to stay here with Penn.”
“Why?”
“Because the first congress was held here– do keep up, honey.”
“And what about the little lady?”
“She’s meant to be an Assistant, right? Means she has to get used to fast paced work, so she can go with New York.”
“Hey–”
“Ya have the city, don’t ya?”
“...”
“S’what I thought.”
“You and Jersey are helpin, Masshole!”
“Geo, Mary and I will help Penn, of course.”
“Then it’s settled. Meeting adjourned!”
———————————————————————
The first thing New York, Jersey, and Mass noticed about the girl suddenly placed under their care was that she was quiet. She follows behind them dutifully, nearly having to run to keep up with their fast pace and longer legs, until Mass just plucks her off her feet instead.
The fireplace is lit, and she sits in front of it as Jersey brandishes a comb, York and Mass sitting close by.
“Ya got a name other than Assistant?” Mass asks, “Cause, no offense, but I ain’t callin’ ya that while ya look like a kid. Especially not in public.”
“No.” Her voice is soft and gentle, warm like the fire that reflects in her blue eyes, “I don’t have another name.”
New York humps, settling down further onto the sofa as Jersey starts to braid the girl’s hair.
Not long after, New York guides her to a guest room– giving her an old night shirt that doesn’t fit any of his daughters.
He sees her gaze flick to the bed, a cautious confusion seeping into her expression; the first actual emotion he’d seen from her.
“What’s this?” she asks quietly, as he pulls down the comforter and settles her under the sheets.
He blinks.
“A bed? For sleeping?”
Recognition. Not of the object, but of the function.
“Oh… Thank you.”
He rolls his eyes, lips pursed– even they, as new Personifications, knew what a bed was.
“Welcome. Go to sleep.”
The candle is put out, and New York joins his lovers in their bed down the hall.
———————————————————————
Despite how new they were, Congress and Assistant made a well-ordered team, even despite the state of their actual Congress. They always seemed to know, just a step ahead of those around them, speaking without words and vanishing in the early night, only to reappear before sunrise with no explanation.
On those days they seemed at peace, smug about something they refused to say, but those days there were no British attacks, so they took the days free of battle that they could get without much complaint. Even if their parental instincts were in overdrive, New York, Mass, and New Jersey were aware that the girl was able to hold her own.
Pennsylvania, Maryland, Virginia and Georgia on the other hand…were more protective of the boy they claimed their son– for good reason, the boy constantly had a fever after all, weak with the state of their meager government.
The first few times it happened were frightening, though. The Northeasterners had grown to care for the girl placed under their care, and- by extension- the boy she was practically attached at the hip with.
York had given the girl a name, just as Pennsylvania gave Congress one.
Robin and Adam.
———————————————————————
The three of them wake up feeling that something is wrong.
Something had happened.
New Jersey had been the first to leap out of bed, sprinting down the hall.
“She’s not in bed!” is the yell they hear, Mass and York tearing themselves out from under the covers.
But, she was still in the house. Kneeling in a chair by the window and staring out into one of the trees in York’s backyard, little hands clutching the window sill.
“There are birds.” she whispers to them, not even turning to look, but they can hear the wonder in her voice and see the stars in her eyes, “Baby birds and a Momma bird.”
With their heart rates calming, not even able to utter a word, they join her at the window.
Robins, a mother bird and three babies, in a nest on one of the tree branches.
The girl’s little hand reaches out, blocked by the window, as if she could touch the bird’s feathers.
“They’re pretty.” she says, a simple wonder of the life out in nature coating her young voice.
The next morning she’s still in her room when they wake up, window open with four birds on her window sill. A momma robin and her three babies who just learned to fly.
New York calls her Robin. The name sticks.
———————————————————————
Wild birds never live long, but Jersey makes her a bird cage, and finds her two birds to keep.
Two abandoned, baby robins one of the neighbors had found.
Massachusetts helps her name them; Skye and Luna, and the smug satisfaction radiates from him for days.
They learn Pennsylvania got the boy, Congress- Adam-, a dog. A foxhound named Todd.
But when the thirteen of them get together, they can’t help but smile as their Cities, their children, grow more attached to the kids that have become their siblings.
Philly, especially, finds joy in lugging Adam around in the way only older brothers can- though Boston and NYC snarl at him whenever he tries to do the same to Robin, until the girl climbs onto the Pennsylvanian City’s shoulders herself.
It’s been a while since any of their cities have been young children.
It’s nice to hear that childish, hopeful laughter again.
The Ultimatum
What caused the OG13 to pull away.
———————————————————————
It was in 1814, January to be specific, when the Original 13 States were summoned by the President. No other State, just the thirteen of them.
They enter the meeting room, the one saved for meetings between them and the President. Though, they notice, Adam and Robin’s seats are suspiciously empty. Those seats are never empty. They’re always involved in meetings with the Presidents.
Something’s wrong.
Very wrong.
But, that’s probably why they’re here, so they swallow their concern and take their seats.
President Madison clears his throat, and lifts his papers.
“My fellow Congressmen, my fellow Senators, my fellow Representatives, and the Supreme Court have been engaged in rigorous discussion these last few years.” he says, “And we have agreed it is in the Nation’s best interest that you refrain from interacting with Continental Congress and Executive Assistant outside of business.”
You could hear a pin drip in the silence that ensued.
“I’m sorry, President Madison,” Virginia said with a strained smile, “I’m afraid I might have misheard. Surely you’re not asking us to stop interacting with our children.”
“I’m not asking.” is the unwavering response, “Failure to comply will lead to…unpleasant consequences.”
“You can’t do anything to us that hasn’t been done before.” Delaware raises his brow, “What could you possibly do?”
“Congress and Assistant will be permanently terminated, and new Personifications will be formed in their place.”
The only way to ‘terminate’ a personification, especially a government…
Is to kill them.
“You’re humans.” Pennsylvania’s voice doesn’t shake, but his eyes are narrowed, “You can’t kill a personification. Nor can you form a new one.”
The President smiles.
A cold, cruel smile.
“You think no one’s figured out how in the last million years?” he asks, “The notes are hidden, yes, but there are ways to kill a Government Personification. Ways that have been documented, documents we have found.” he’s grinning now, “And, if those methods don’t work, we can simply lock them up. Keep them here and make them work until they drop dead from it. No sleep, no meals, only work– and dire consequences if they ever stop working.” Madison tilts his head, “I’ve heard that Personifications can take quite the beating; I wonder how much it would take to keep them down?”
There’s nothing they can say. Because they know: know how cruel humans are, know how greedy they are, know how far they’re willing to go– and they’re still so new. Maybe not in age, but as States. As people with power over the humans that live on their lands.
It won’t be for a few more decades that they learn they can cause their own natural disasters without affecting themselves, that they can influence the minds and opinions of their people without saying a word, that they learn they can say no.
So they agree.
They answer letters marked as business and avoid Ad– Congress and Rob– Assistant outside of meetings and nothing else. They vanish after meetings– though they do interact with their grandkids as best as they can, it’s hard when they’re still young– and call them by their…proper names.
Continental Congress. Executive Assistant.
Congress and Assistant.
They see the confusion, see it melt away into hurt, see it fade behind walls and locks and chains within burning green and stormy blue eyes.
They feel the worst sort of pain when they’re no longer called Pa or Papa or Pop or Uncle, and instead are summoned by their State Title.
The weekly letters end not long after that, gifts sent only on the gifting-sort of Holidays. The mail Postmaster brings always entails business, or the names of their newest grandchildren (even those stop eventually, and they’re left to figure it out from newspapers or the first meeting they attend)
They don’t learn about the Fire of Washington until weeks after it happened, when A–Congress attended a meeting with a bandaged throat, face and arm, with a dull look in his one visible eye as Ro– Assistant spoke for him.
…
The letters from the Civil War were the hardest to read, with blood and teardrops smeared on parchment and Congress’ elegant writing– the handwriting he had been so proud to master when he was a boy– devolving into frantic, desperate scratches on paper.
And when DC appears, when he tells them that Congress– their boy, their nephew, their son– couldn’t do it anymore…they assumed the worst.
They knew it had all been in vain. Even after Madison had long passed, the boy they were trying to protect still died. The girl they were trying to save from a broken mind left with a broken heart.
But in 2021, with the flurry and worry around DC’s condition, Gov appeared.
He seemed older than a new personification usually was, he looked far too familiar– though many hardly noticed at the time. With dull grey eyes belaying walls and locks and chains they had once seen in Congress’ eyes.
They learn– it takes too long, they should’ve seen it– that their boy never died.
He changed, they all had, but he hadn’t died and he’s back with them once again. He brings their girl with him, still such a spitfire with the determination of a bloodhound.
They decide the Ultimatum they were given had an expiration, one long since overdue.
They were going to get their kids back, even if they had to drag Madison out of Hell, just to kill him all over again to do so.