Wttt Virginia - Tumblr Posts

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I've been watching a lot of this guys videos and have decided wttt Virginia unironically dresses like this all the time. It started with 1 valentines day outfit and then he realized he really likes wearing red and pink and now it's 90% of his wardrobe.

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.

A Nightmare

Pennsylvania has a nightmare, and there is only one thing that can calm him down.

———————————————————————

It’s dark.

The cobblestone roads are old and worn by use, the streetlights illuminating the area around him.

He’s sitting on a bench, alone. The wind chills against his neck.

And then there’s someone next to him. A few inches shorter, but with his hair. Long, light brown hanging to his shoulders and tied back. There’s a tricorn hat on his head, a familiar black suit with golden details– a gift from himself and his partners to the man.

To their son.

Congress is still, stiff, not even looking at him– green eyes focused and staring straight ahead. His skin is pale, an ashen color that worries him.

Patrick Jones furrows his brow, but still greets the boy.

“Adam,” he says, “Are you alright? Yer lookin’ a bit grey.”

No answer.

“Adam?”

Not even a fidget.

Patrick huffs, growing annoyed at being ignored– though also concerned, Adam never ignored them.

“Continental Congress–” he says firmly, sternly, but the boys head jerks to face him before he can continue.

His jaw drops, and he can only stare in horror at his boys’ face.

Half of it, the half he hadn’t seen before, is nothing but sizzling skin and muscle and filthy, rotten bone. His entire right side is torn apart, clothes shredded and his body ripped apart– ribs splintered open like a cage around his still beating heart, revealed to open air.

The skin of his hands is peeled and torn away, revealing blood-soaked bones with bits a flesh on the ends. The wounds on his body are shaped odd, as if Congress tore out chunks of his own body himself.

The blood is dry and rotten, the smell suddenly hitting him, but he can’t move. Not when Adam stares at him with one, focused, burning green eye.

“..Pa…” is the hoarse, broken voice that comes from a torn throat – bullets, blood, stitches, barely missed his vocal cords. Teeth grey; blood, bugs and dirt pouring from his lips.“Why?...”

Patrick breathes, “...Why…what?”

“Why would you…kill me..? it hurts, Pa…”

The world shifts, and Patrick– he can’t breathe, he can’t see anything besides his son’s rotting corpse— he did that, oh god he killed his baby boy—

Rotten, broken hands reach out to him from the darkness, grabbing him- holding him down, and there are more hands, more bodies, and he’s—

———————————————————————

Pennsylvania wakes up with a muffled scream, shooting up into a sitting position.

Georgia, Virginia, and Maryland are awake, but he doesn’t see them– he’s struggling to stand– he needs to find his boy–

“Patrick!” Virginia says frantically, stepping in front of the Keystone State, “Honey, honey– it’s okay, it was a nightmare–”

“Adam–” is all Pennsylvania can gasp out, hand clutching his chest, “Where–? My boy– he’s–”

“He’s fine.” Virginia soothes, trying to guide the other back to bed, “He’s with Robin, alright? They’re perfectly fine.”

“No, no–” is all the Northeasterner can mutter, still trying to leave the room, “He’s– he’s not– he’s hurting– where’s my boy–”

Virginia throws a pleading glance over the other's shoulder, and Maryland nods– whipping out his phone and dialing a number they had never called outside of emergencies.

The receiver picks up almost immediately, and Maryland immediately starts muttering into the device.

It takes only a moment before he hangs up.

Virginia is still trying to keep Pennsylvania from leaving the room-- the other State seemingly unaware of where he is, or even when he is.

The air feels static around them, a tell-tale sign that lasts only a few seconds, before there’s a small crackle and a knock at the door.

Pennsylvania’s head jerks at the noise, and the door swings open.

Light brown hair– narrow, worried eyes– a small, grim frown– his boy shouldn’t be frowning, why is he upset?

Pennsylvania ducks out of Virginia’s grip, not even realizing it, before he’s practically wrapped around Congress. The boy is still shorter than him, but he’s a bit broader than he remembers, a few inches taller, but just short enough for Pennsylvania to bury his face in his son’s hair.

When had he cut his hair?

When had he grown so much?

When had he gotten so pale, was he growing ill again?

He presses his cheek to the boys temple, feeling for his temperature just to feel nothing out of the ordinary. He feels the boys chest rumble as he speaks to the others behind him, asking questions.

“You said there was an emergency?”

“Figured you’d rather come here than have him break down your door.”

“Hmm.” Adam’s arms wrap around him, and he does his best not to sag against his boy. He’s the Pa, dammit, his son shouldn’t have to take care of him. “It wouldn’t be the first time my door’s been torn off its hinges. I can stay if necessary.”

“Sorry, Gov, but he wasn’t listening.” there’s guilt in the tired voice, “He…doesn’t seem to be aware of where or when we are.”

Adam’s fingers tap against his back in a simple rhythm, and Pennsylvania feels himself start to droop with a sudden, bone-deep exhaustion.

He hears more muttering, the creaking of a bed as someone stands.

He feels hands around his waist.

“He seems to be asleep enough. We’ll take him so ya can go back home– sorry for troublin’ ya.”

The arms start to pull– pull him away from his boy who’s right there, he can feel his boys breath stutter and his boy is upset and hiding it—

He tears himself out of the grip like a man possessed, wrapping his boy up in his arms entirely. He herds the two of them closer to a wall– fewer openings for someone to try and drag either of them away– and glares at the three blurry figures as he tucks Adam’s head tight to his chest, blocking the boys vision.

He can feel his boy trying to peak over his arm at the figures, sees the figures trying to creep closer, and he growls. He feels his heart pounding against his ribs, feels his grip on his son tighten– before there’s a hand at his back and on his arm, and Adam is whispering– so quiet that no one but himself can hear what he says, and his growl goes silent so he can listen.

“Pa,” the boy says, and Pennsylvania closes in tighter around him, “It’s alright. It’s Mapa, Pop, and Papa. They won’t hurt you–” that’s not what he cares about, and he huffs. His boy pauses, seeming to think, “...they won’t hurt me.”

Pennsylvania glances back over his shoulder, and he slowly starts to relax. There are no faceless figures trying to take his son, just the faces of his concerned partners. He relaxes further, they’d help keep their boy safe.

He crouches, just a little, just enough to get a firm grip on his son in a way that won’t cause him any discomfort or pain, and he lifts.

Hands shift to grab at his shoulders, and there’s a small noise of surprise in the chest against him.

He takes long strides back to the bed— past Georgia, Virginia, and Maryland— and falls back onto it, pressing Congress’ head back to his chest and curling tighter, putting himself in the way of whatever may want to hurt his son— and there were so many people, so many things, that want to hurt Congress.

“Suppose I’m staying,” his boy says apologetically, “I apologize for intruding.”

Maryland rushes to assure him, “No, no, hon. You’re perfectly fine!” the other three take their time climbing back into the bed, keeping Congress in between them, “We’re sorry for gettin’ ya in this mess.”

“It’s fine,” Congress assures, “I’ve dealt with worse– this situation is actually strangely pleasant.”

“Shhh…” Pennsylvania mutters, shifting just a bit to hold Adam tighter, to cover him more, “Babies need to sleep…”

Congress must make a face, because Pennsylvania feels Georgia chuckling against his back, can hear the quiet snickers from the other side of the bed from Mary and Virginia.

“I assure you that I’m far from a baby—”

“Shhhhhhhh…” he says louder, into the boys hair, “Sleep.”

There’s a huff, some squirming, but he pays no mind as he falls asleep— his partners around him and his son– one of his babies, his Cities have missed their brother— safe, wrapped up in between them.

He lets himself drift.

———————————————————————

Gov is gone by morning, slipping from his Pa’s hold and carefully closing the door. He pops back to his home, leaning against the wall tiredly.

He sighs.

It’d been nice to call Pennsylvania his Pa– the man completely unaware of the date, unaware of whatever made them no longer wish to be his parents. He made sure Georgia, Virginia, and Maryland didn’t hear him when he called them those personal titles, he’s sure they would’ve been furious at him. He’s sure that they are, anyway, for Pennsylvania dragging him into their bed— even if they tried to reassure him that it was fine.

He runs a hand through his hair.

He’d have to send them a proper apology for the intrusion.

…

He wonders what Pennsylvania dreamt about, to have Maryland call him so late at night…

Doors

The States try and open the door. Gov starts to have a breakdown.

———————————————————————

Florida stares hard at the front door of the Statehouse, expression serious.

Louisiana side-eyed him with concern, and everyone else stayed a few feet away.

“Whatcha thinkin’ ‘bout, sha?” Louie asks, but Florida doesn’t turn away.

“Papi’s here, right?”

They know it’s him, know that Gov is the Father and son they thought they lost, but they’re not ready— they’re not prepared to bring it up. Not yet.

“Yeah, what of it?”

“He does this weird thing, watch.” Florida springs up, approaching the front door with sure, confident steps.

Before he can grab the door handle, another hand appears to pull the door open. A body blocking the entryway, but he hadn’t come in from outside, had simply stepped in the way.

Gov hadn’t been there a second ago.

“Where are you off to?” The man asks, raising a brow as he opens the door.

“Nowhere!” Florida grins, “Just wanted to go out!”

“Hm.” Gov studies him for a moment, scrutinizing. Florida can feel himself start to sweat, before the man turns away. “Alright, don’t cause any trouble.”

And the man’s gone, as if he was never there, leaving the door wide open.

Florida turns back to them all with a grin.

“See?”

“Has he always done that?” Montana asks with a furrowed brow.

“Come to think of it, I don’t think we’ve ever opened the front or back door.” Iowa reclines on a couch, staring up at the ceiling with his hands folded over his stomach. “Pa’s always shown up to open the doors, but only when we’re going out? He never opens it coming inside unless it’s a building other than the Statehouse? It’s kinda weird.”

“I think we’ve gotten used to it. I mean, I know I’ve started waiting for him to open other doors too.”

A few moments of contemplating silence.

“First to open the front or back door before Papi shows up wins.”

And that sealed it.

.1.

Florida, of course, was the first to try it. Multiple times in the span of several hours, in fact.

He’d reach for one door handle, wait for it to twist and wait for the Static to fill the air as Gov starts to teleport, before he bolts to the other side of the house to the other door.

It doesn’t work, and Gov looks more tired each time.

Gov snatches him up in the middle of one of his sprints, hand holding the back of the Southerner’s shirt to look him in the face.

Amber meets grey, and Florida grins- somewhat nervously- at the blank expression on the man's face.

“Stop that.” Is all the man says, lowering him to his feet, and patting his shoulder twice, “It’s late. Go to bed.”

Florida scurries off, feeling very much like the young Ian Jones who stayed up past bedtime.

That doesn’t mean he stops though.

.2.

Idaho and Iowa thought they’d be the ones to win, being two of the most often forgotten States.

Idaho had gone to the back door, and Iowa to the front. They were going to try and open them at the same time, or as close to the same time as possible.

When Iowa heard the back door swing open, he reached for the door handle— only for the front door to swing open from the outside, revealing Gov— Pops— with a disoriented Idaho held under his arm.

“You were both planning on tending the crops today.” The Statehouse properties are expansive , a lot of it used for things to keep the States entertained; such as farming or animal care. “They are next to each other, you do not need to leave out two separate doors.”

Iowa shuffles his feet as Idaho is straightened to stand on xir own once xe was put down.

Xir face flushed, “Papa!” Xe says, slightly whiny, “What was that for?!”

Gov merely raised a brow.

“Makes it easier,” he says, leaning to press the side of his head against Idaho’s hair— the younger personification squirming slightly— “Call if you need anything, Gem, alright?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Xe mutters, squirming out of the smug man’s grasp and hauling Iowa out the door.

The Hawkeye State felt…jealous. That Noah could have what Caleb himself craved.

.3.

West Virginia and Nevada, Boe and Cassian, were quite the odd pair of friends; a retired coal miner and a ex-mobster-turned-showgirl.

But they were formed little more than a year apart, and stuck together through thick and thin.

Sure, their plan may involve Boe taking off his prosthetic leg– but, really, it was his idea.

Nevada sets the prosthetic against the porch rails before he trots back inside, shutting the door behind her. West Virginia leans against the back of the couch, and the Silver state nods. They lean against the front door carefully, not making any noise.

“Pops!” the man yells, and the air fills with static, a sign that the man’s listening, “Left mah leg out on the back porch earlier, mind grabbin’ it for me?”

It happened more often than one would think. He usually took the leg off later in the day, but it wasn’t unusual for him to take it off and leave it somewhere without thinking– someone always around to assist without a second thought in grabbing it or helping him get to it.

He’d forgotten to take it off last night, and that’s what birthed this plan. The need to let his nub breathe.

The static shifts to the back as Nevada carefully reaches to the front door handle…

It turns in his grasp, and the door opens behind her. They stumble back, their shoulders falling against the person behind them, who holds them up with one arm.

She looks back, spying his father looking at them both with a raised brow— Boe’s prosthetic leg in his hand.

Nevada smiles nervously, “Hi, daddy…”

“Hello, Cassi,” Gov returns the greeting as the Silver State shifts to stand back up. “Boe is still in the sitting room, yes?”

“‘M here, old man.”

“Good, then. Help me with him, Cassi?”

“Yeah— sure.”

Their father looks…tired. More so than usual as he helps strap the prosthetic back in place— Boe’s fond of the older models— patting the Mountain State’s shoulder as he heaves himself up.

“Please behave,” he sounds so tired, “and please remember to grab your leg before you leave it in the middle of a street.”

Boe snorts as his Pops strong hand ruffles his hair, and Cassian grins.

They’re fine with losing.

.4.

To be completely honest, Connecticut hadn’t wanted to be involved in it. He saw how tired Gov looked, and how he only seemed to grow more haggard as each day passed with several States trying to open the doors.

But he had been a pirate, once. Mischief and the want for chaos carved in his bones.

“Davie.” he whispers with a grin, leaning over his husband's desk chair. “Davie, let’s go open the door.”

“Henry…” Delaware plucks his glasses off his face and pinches the bridge of his nose. “You know it won’t work.”

“If it doesn't, we can get Johnny or someone to hold him still while we open it.” The Constitution State shrugs.

Delaware sighs again, “Fine.”

Connecticut gives a small ‘yesss’, hauling Delaware up and tugging him down the stairs.

There was no plan, they were banking on Gov being too busy with…anything. They were just going to try and open it, no special plans or strategies involved.

And, of course, it didn’t work.

The handle twists from their grip and a body shifts to block their path as the door opens outwards.

Once again, Gov blocks their way. He stares at them a moment, back straight despite how utterly exhausted he looks.

“Please…” his voice is quiet and gravely, and both Northeasterners cringe inwardly at the sound. “Please, stop trying to open the doors…”

“Gov,” Delaware's voice is careful, “When’s the last time you slept?”

The man twitched, “Last night.”

“Did you sleep…well?”

“No- no.” The man sways a bit, “Too focused. Ia— Florida tried to open the door fifteen times in the span of two hours.”

They notice the slip, it makes their chests ache, but they have something more important to worry about. They’re uncles, after all, and their stupid, self-sacrificing nephew needs to go to sleep.

“C’mon, buddy,” Connecticut comes up to the man's side, carefully closing the door with one hand, the other going across the man’s shoulders, “We gotta spare room you can have for the night. Davie’ll message Ro for ya.”

As the First State pulls out his phone, they guide Gov to one of the guest rooms. They watch him fall onto the bed with a slightly pained grunt, and watch as he near immediately passes out.

They look at each other once the door is shut.

“Intervention?”

“Intervention.”

They need to show Gov that nothing will happen if someone else opens the door.

And what better place to do that than at the Legislative building? Where security is tight and no one there will hurt any of them?

..5..

Gov’s has one office in Washington, DC. Much like their home in Pennsylvania, the door can open to any of the government buildings.

The office itself is lined with bookshelves that go up and up until you can’t see the top. A hand drawn map of every state and territory on the wall behind the grand, mahogany desk.

On either side of the desk were two archways, leading further and further into the maze of bookshelves that never seemed to end. The space was larger than it had any right to be, and stretched further than the buildings themselves seemed to. It was never the same when you looked back, the pathways always changing.

Only Gov and Assistant were allowed in the labyrinth unattended, as they were the only ones who could find their way out again without trouble. Anyone else had to accompany one of them, or they’d never return. There were things in there no one should see, and only the presence of one of the government personifications would keep those things away.

From the noises that sometimes echoed from within the bookshelves on occasion, not everyone heeded the warning.

But it was a familiar, safe space; perfect for them to intervene in Gov’s ridiculous habit of opening the doors of their own home.

Only three of them had shown up for this, they know that anymore and Gov would possibly grow defensive; just the three of them would be enough to make him suspicious.

Georgia and Maryland, there to hold him back, and Kentucky, the one to open the door.

They knock on the door to the office, always so obvious that it leads to Gov’s office with the aura it gives off and the ornate gold details on dark wood.

They don’t wait for a response, as usual, and simply shove the door open. Gov had always said his office is open whenever they need him, after all.

The man jolts in his seat, blinking at them as they enter.

“Hello,” he greets, body relaxing when he sees who it is, but he furrows his brow when he sees the serious look on Georgia’s face, “I wasn’t expecting you today, has something happened?”

“Nothin’s happened, hon.” Maryland says as he rounds the desk, Georgia coming around the other side, “Just wanted to visit ya for a bit.”

Gov purses his lips.

He’s suspicious.

Georgia settles his hands on the man’s shoulders from behind the chair as Maryland holds onto one of his arms.

Gov looks to Kentucky, who’s stayed resolutely by the door. He wants to reach out and call his son to his side— no, no. Not his son, they don’t want to be his children, they don’t want any relation to him. It’s why they only call him Gov.

He sees the southerners’ hand reach for the door handle, and he shifts to stand– he needs to get the door– but the hands on his shoulders go firm, and he finds he can’t move.

Panic grips his chest, as Kentucky turns the doorknob. Everything tunes out– the hands on his shoulders, the weight on his arm, the voices of Georgia and Maryland trying to soothe him. All he can hear, all he can sense, is the presence of a loaded gun behind the door–

He pulls himself out of their grip, faster than they can stop him, the jerking motion pulling his shoulder– and the metal that holds it– out of place. He grits his teeth at the feeling, tugging Kentucky out of the way as the door falls open–

BANG!

The bullet strikes him in his dislocated shoulder, and he grimaces silently, staring the politician, who now eyes the States behind him with fear.

He never often cared if they shot him, it’s been happening for centuries– less so now than in the age of dueling, but humans rarely change– but they never got away with it when any of his States were present.

He moves to do what he always does, close the door and handle it– but there’s a pair of hands on his arm, another body coming around to his front as a third tears into the hallway with a loud bellow– like a bear mauling those foolish to get too close to its cubs.

“Sit down– sit down.” Maryland hisses as Kentucky flutters next to them.

In this office, Gov has several loveseats and armchairs in front of his desk, and he soon gets pushed into one. He grunts at the jostling in his arm, confused for a moment, before he waves their hands off.

“Drawer– bottom left.” he mutters, “Gotta medkit in there.”

Maryland freezes for a moment, but Kentucky scurries off to grab the kit as told.

“I’m sorry, hon,” Maryland says, too sweetly, as Georgia hauls the bloodied politician into the office and chucks them a few ways down into the labyrinth. “Did you just say, ‘I have a medkit for things like this’? As in, this is a normal occurrence.”

Gov can feel Georgia glowering from behind him as he shifts, preparing to pop his arm back in its socket.

“Ignore that.” Gov says as Kentucky props the medkit open at his side, “Eli– Kentucky,” the man says, muttering under his breath, “Nein, nein. Kentucky, get the tweezers ready, alright?”

“Put your hands down.” Maryland shoves the younger entity’s hands to his sides, “You stay focused on telling me why you’re acting as if this is normal! Elias, Eli! Put those down and go get your Gigi and your Grandad. Now!”

The younger State pops away, and Georgia immediately takes his place.

“It’s fine, it’s fine.” Gov tries to shift away from their hands, “I’ll call Robin and it’ll be fine. It’s not the first, nor the last time, a politician has shot me.”

“Gonna need you to explain that, boy.” Georgia rumbles angrily, “You should be gettin’ shot never, preferably.”

“It happens,” he keeps trying to brush them away, barely grimacing when Georgia’s hands pop his shoulder and the metal plates back into place, “They can’t shoot each other, so they shoot me. They’re always behind the door waiting for me to open it, but it’s not every time.” he chokes on his breath when Maryland checks the wound, digging out the bullet with the tweezers, “Nearly shot Daniel once– just started opening the doors. Rather be me than the kids.”

“Jesus,” another voice speaks up, a new set of hands lifting his face to meet theirs. Pennsylvania, “Fuck, kid–”

“He says this is normal!” Maryland hisses as his suit coat is removed by Virginia, “He says it’s been happening for centuries!”

His sweater is pulled up over his shoulder so the bullet hole can be cleaned and wrapped.

Gov feels four sets of protective, furious eyes on himself, and he’s even more confused.

“It’s fine,” he assures, exasperated, “I’ve been shot far worse than this over things so minor I wasn’t even informed of it. At least I know this time it was over a legal dispute.”

He tugs his sweater back down over his arm, but leaves the suit coat off for the time being.

“They shoot you over things that don’t EVEN CONCERN YOU?!” Virginia near shrieks, and Gov flinches at the sound, “Why are we just now learning this information?!”

“It’s not important,” Gov stresses, but they just don’t seem to understand, “It has not and has never been important. It’s just something that happens.” he shoves himself up off the couch and past Pennsylvania, nearly stumbling– he’s so tired. “Thank you for your help, but it is incredibly unnecessary to take on such a chore–”

He’s tugged back by a hand on the back of his shirt, a snarl building up behind him.

“A chore?” An enraged voice asks as he’s pushed back into his seat, the four of them glaring at him, “You think patching up our son, after he’s been shot, is a chore?”

There’s a sudden tugging on his ear, and he flinches at the feeling.

“Young man, if you ain’t have metal in yer spine and just got a bullet put in ya, you’d’ve just earned yerself a whoopin’!” Virginia snaps, their thumb and index finger holding firm on the man’s ear for a moment before they let go, hands going to their hips.

The brunette rubs away the stinging feeling, grimacing as he glares straight back at them.

“I said it’s fine, how many times do I have to repeat that?” He snaps in response, baring his teeth in a snarl. “None of you are listening.”

“We ain’t gonna listen when you tell us gettin’ shot is fine.” Georgia growls.

“Because it is fine, when it’s me.” he goes to stand back, “Let me go, I have work to finish–”

“Adam Jones, if you take even one step close to that desk, yer age won’t stop me from dragging you down to the southern house.” Pennsylvania barks, crossing his arms as he speaks, “See if you can ‘get back to work’ after I kick yer ass.”

Gov freezes in place the moment he started speaking. He doesn’t move, doesn’t speak– just stares straight ahead.

He stands there for so long that the anger starts to fade, replaced by a growing concern as the man doesn’t even twitch.

Georgia is the first one to step around to look at the man’s face, orange-brown eyes going wide when he sees the wetness in Gov’s grey ones.

“Oh, kiddo.” The large man brings the other close to him, pressing his face to Gov’s hair and letting the other hide in his windbreaker as the other three crowd around them, a flurry of concerned movement as Georgia feels a wet spot growing on his shirt. “What’s wrong, Adam?”

Gov’s shoulders are hitching, he doesn’t appear to be breathing properly, Georgia runs a hand through his hair in hopes to calm him down enough to get him to speak.

“You called me Adam…” the man says in heaving breaths, “You called me son.”

And suddenly, it made sense.

They haven’t called him either since 1814.

“Oh, baby…” Maryland runs his own hand across Gov’s shoulders, “It’s okay, hon, it’s okay…”

“You didn’t want me as your son–”

“No, no.” Virginia soothes, “You’ve always been our son, sweetie, it’s okay.”

“You left–”

“And it was the worst mistake we’ve ever made.” Pennsylvania snarls quietly from where he leans on Georgia’s arm, “And we’re so, so fucking sorry, kiddo.”

“My kids—”

“Miss you so much.” Georgia rasps, “They want nothing more than for their papa to come back.”

Gov makes a strangled sound, before he goes completely silent.

“Kiddo?” Pennsylvania whispers, “What’s up?”

“Please,” is the only response, “...just stop trying to open the doors… I can’t sleep with them always trying to…”

“Okay, okay.” Georgia kisses the top of his head, “We’ll stop, we’ll stop the kids too. Don’t worry buddy.”

“It’s okay, it’s okay.” Virginia hums, “Just rest now, baby.”

Gov mumbles something, in response, before he goes limp with exhaustion.

The four of them look at each other over the top of his head.

They had to talk to the other States.

Dear Theodosia but:

Aaron Burr is New Jersey singing to Robin

Hamilton is Virginia and/or Maryland singing to Adam

In the year 1776, after the Burning of New York

Thank you for coming–

Do Cat!States have a paternity test? Either way, Penn isn't accepting kitten Con as his even though Virginia is about to whoop his ass

Hello 👋 have the rest of the OG’s