#Thomas and Martha love all their grandkids | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

ragingbookdragon · 3 years

Text

It's As Real As You And Me

Batsis x Kyle Rayner One-Shot

Word Count: 2.1K Warnings: Explicit Language, Angst,

Author's Note: If you cry while writing, it means you're doing it right...right? -Thorne

**********************************************************************

“Do we have to get out of bed today?” he groaned, silencing the alarm that had been snoozed at least three times before. “I don’t wanna get out of bed today.”

She snorted at him, rolling rather slowly to face his bedside. “I don’t think we have to.” She said. “We’re old. We can do whatever we want.”

He thought for a moment, old eyes trying to focus on the woman beside him; but without his glasses he couldn’t see a damn thing. “Breakfast at Pop’s?”

“That sounds wonderful,” she replied, rising from the bed. “I’m showering first.”

“Oh no you don’t!” he retorted, trying to hurry after her and she laughed, pushing him back onto the bed.

“Stop that, Kyle, before you pop your hip outta place again.”

“Ah, it’ll pop back in, (Y/N). Quit worrying.”

(Y/N) frowned at him, pointing, “You keep on and I’ll talk the kids into putting us into an old folks’ home so I can keep an eye on you better.”

“You wouldn’t do that,” Kyle griped. “We’d lose the only independence we’ve got, and you don’t wanna do that.”

They glared at each other for a minute before smiles split across their faces and they fell into laughter, pressing their foreheads together.

“I love you, Kyle Rayner.”

He gently raised a hand, caressing her cheek. “And I love you more, (Y/N) Rayner.” Pecking her lips three times, he pulled away and she helped him to his feet.

“C’mon. Let’s go get ready.” She said and he gasped dramatically.

“Well, Missus Rayner, you want to fool around in the shower? At our age?” he teased, and she rolled her eyes.

“God, it’s been like seven decades and you’re still the biggest skirt chasing dork ever.”

Kyle grinned at her. “I try.”

***

“Did KJ call you back like he said he was going too?”

“Mhm,” he answered, cutting into the waffles on his plate. “Spoke to him last night. Said he’d call again after he and Thomas get back from Vermont with Sophia and the other grandkids.” He looked at her, putting the fork in his mouth. “Martha Ann call you about Devin?”

(Y/N) rolled her eyes. “Yes. He’s gotten in trouble with GCPD again.” She waved it off, picking up her coffee cup. “I’ve half a mind to tell her to send our grandson to Jason and let him sort that boy out.”

Kyle snorted. “Jason would wear that kid like a slipper.”

“That’s what he needs.” She shot back. “This is the second time in a month that he’s been caught shoplifting. Mark my words, husband of mine, that boy’s a kleptomaniac and if Martha Ann doesn’t do something about it, he’s going to get worse.”

He placed a hand on hers. “You’re getting worked up again. Relax.”

“How many times have I told you not to tell me to relax?”

“I don’t know, how many times have I not listened?”

“Ass.”

“Old lady.”

“I swear I’ve never seen two elderly people more in love and so at odds with one another than I have you two.” They glanced up, seeing Stacy with the coffee pot and another plate of eggs and bacon. “Refills?”

(Y/N) smiled and held out her cup. “Thanks Stacy.”

“Of course!” she looked at her. “You two going anywhere after this?”

Kyle met (Y/N)’s gaze and offered a shrug; she nodded. “I suppose we could take a drive around the countryside. You know, like old people do on Sundays.”

Stacy laughed. “Missus Rayner, you don’t look a day over twenty-five. Now Mister Rayner, I’m afraid that white hair of yours tells me you are more than a few over twenty-five.”

He scowled at the waitress. “If there was ever a time I wish was still in my twenties, it’d be now.” He gestured to the walking cane. “Bum hip. Bum leg.”

“Bum head.” (Y/N) coughed under her breath and he glared at her.

“You think you’re funny.”

“I think I’m adorable.” She smirked, waggling her brows and Stacy merely laughed, wandering back into the kitchen. (Y/N) sighed. “It does make you think though…about the old days.”

Kyle nodded. “I wouldn’t trade our time for anything but...” he squeezed her hand. “I want to be back in that suit just for a minute.”

(Y/N) nodded. “Yeah…patrolling with dad and Dick and the others.” Her eyes started to moisten, and she inhaled sharply, dabbing at her eyes. “Sorry sweetheart.”

His smile held sympathy. “You never have to apologize, muse.” She saw his Adam’s apple bob slightly. “I miss them too.” His voice was rather hoarse, and they sat in silence the rest of the meal, remembering their dearest siblings and friends who’d passed on. Her father Bruce, and oldest brother Dick, both their wives too. And Kyle’s closest friends had all gone on too; Guy, John, and Hal had passed the month before.

The price of getting old, they guessed.

***

“I wish my hands were still able to hold pencils like I once could.”

(Y/N) rested her head on his shoulder, eyes scanning the expanse of the sunset before them. “I know what you mean.” She inhaled the scent of the freshly cut grass beside the shore. “Your painting of this would be beautiful.”

Kyle hummed. “Not as beautiful as you are.”

“I’m ninety-two and you’re telling me that even covered in wrinkles and white hair that I’m prettier than the skyline?”

He nodded. “Always have been.” He shifted until he could see her face. “Always will be, my beautiful muse.”

(Y/N) grinned like the heavens had split and leaned close, pecking his three times lips. “I love you, Kyle Rayner.”

“I love you more, (Y/N) Rayner.”

***

She turned the burner off, pouring the gravy into the boat, before setting it on the small table. “Dinner’s ready.” She called towards the living room. He’d gone into the old study when they’d gotten home and pulled out his art supplies, determined to prove he still had it.

(Y/N) frowned. “Sweetheart, dinner’s ready!” she called a little louder that time and then huffed a laugh. “Fool fell asleep.”

Wandering through the kitchen doorway into the living room, she saw him in his recliner, chin tucked into his chest, eyes closed. She sat on the side of his recliner and touched his shoulder. “Kyle, dinner’s on the table.” He didn’t open his eyes and she bent her head down to look at his face. “Kyle?”

She reached down and took one of his hands, it was cooling. “Sweetheart?” Something tightened in her throat and with her other hand, she gently pressed underneath his jaw, holding for a few seconds before she let out a pained breath. “Oh, Kyle.”

(Y/N) curled her hand tighter around his, leaning down to press her lips to his temple. She couldn’t bring herself to move as she let out a quiet sob, pressing her face into his hair. “I love you,” she whispered. “I hope you know that.” Her lips wobbled and tears cascaded down her cheeks. “I wouldn’t trade our seventy-five years for anything. We lived a beautiful life.”

She pulled away and gently took his glasses off his face, setting them onto the table. Her eyes fell to his lap where his other hand lay, a color pencil still held in it. (Y/N) felt a watery laugh bubble in her chest as she saw the last masterpiece he’d ever made.

A portrait of the sunset they'd been looking at that day. A beautiful blend of red, orange, pink, and purple cascading across the sheet like an explosion of the sky.

Her eyes fell across the words written in white along the edge,

To my beautiful muse. Always and forever.

He still had it.

And it was perfect.

***

“Julia, can you push me out onto the patio?” she asked, looking out the window. “I think I wanna sit outside for a few moments.”

The young woman, no older than twenty-two smiled brightly. “Of course, Miss Rayner!” she happily complied, pushing (Y/N)’s wheelchair out onto the cobblestone patio, sitting her next to the table. “Do you want me to bring your dinner to you?”

(Y/N) nodded. “I’d like that. Thank you.”

“Alright, I’ll be back in a few moments.”

Julia wandered off and she glanced towards the skyline. It had been about six months since she let her children talk her into getting an in-home nurse after he had passed. She had argued, but after falling twice, she knew it was time to have someone look after her. (Y/N) was adamant about not going to a senior citizens home; she wanted to stay in the home her and him had built until she went too.

Her children and grandchildren had visited her the week before, all having to return to their lives once school had started and jobs went back. She understood—(Y/N)’d once been a busy wife and mother too. But it was lonely without him, and she missed him dearly.

Her eyes found the skyline again and she sighed heavily, feeling rather tired all of the sudden. A little nap wouldn’t hurt. And she knew Julia wasn’t the best cook so it’d take a while before dinner would be ready.

Just a few minutes of sleep.

Just a few minutes.

Just a few—

***

A warm breeze blew across her skin, and she cracked her eyes open, glancing out the open window of her bedroom. It felt like a normal Saturday morning. The type of mornings where she’d wake up to Tim or Damian jumping on her bed and telling her to get down to breakfast.

She blinked a few moments, not registering a thing until someone chuckled beside her. “You’ve been sleeping pretty soundly, sweetheart.”

Looking over, her eyes widened as she saw her father before her, young and handsome like he’d once been, sitting on the side of her bed. “Dad?” she breathed, and he smiled.

“Hello (Y/N).”

She shot up in a second, wrapping her arms around his neck, his own winding around her waist. “Dad,” she cried, tears gathering in her eyes. “You’re here.”

“I think it’s you who’s here, (Y/N).”

“What?” she pulled away and looked at him; her eyes drifted to the mirror hanging beside her door and she caught sight of herself—it registered as she lifted her hands to her face, no more wrinkles, no more snow-white hair, no more aches and pains.

“Looks like I fell asleep for more than a few minutes, didn’t I, dad?” she laughed, though she felt a deep sorrow.

He smiled sadly at her. “It’s the best way to go.”

(Y/N)’s eyes filled with tears, and she gazed at him. “I’ve missed you so much, dad.”

“I’ve missed you more, sweetheart.” Bruce replied, gently thumbing her cheek. “All of you.” He smiled again. “But you’re here now…and there’s a lot of people waiting to see you.”

Standing from the bed, he held his hand out to her and she took it, letting him pull her up; he walked over to the door and opened it, pulling her along as he stepped through it.

The scenery shifted from that of her bedroom to the backyard of Wayne Manor and she looked out to a large picnic table and seated around it were all the family and friends she’d lost through the decades. Dick was waving like a maniac, Kori beside him doing the same. They both looked young too. Hal, Guy, and John were sitting on the other side, ribbing Wally, Roy, and Garth over something; they too were young.

“I don’t understand,” she whispered. “Why is everybody young again?”

Bruce hummed. “We all return to the best moments in our lives. When we were our biggest and greatest.” He glanced over her at something and smiled. “There’s someone who’s been waiting for you.”

(Y/N) looked at him with pulled brows then over in the direction he was, and she brought a hand to her mouth. She broke into a dead sprint across the backyard, leaping into his open and waiting arms. He lifted her with ease, like he used to do when he was young. Spinning them around, he buried his face in her hair as she buried hers in his shoulder as she shook with sobs.

“Sorry I wasn’t able to have dinner with you one last time, (Y/N).”

She pulled away and placed her hands on his cheek, putting their foreheads together. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there with you, Kyle.”

He shook his head, smiling at her. “You were there.” He reached up, putting a hand on her cheek. “You look as beautiful as the day I left you.”

(Y/N)’s lips wobbled, but she smiled widely. “I love you, Kyle Rayner.”

“I love you more, (Y/N) Rayner.” He pecked her lips three times. “Forever.”

333 notes · View notes

sohotthateveryonedied · 4 years

Note

(For the Tim sees ghosts au) Does he ever talk to Thomas and Martha Wayne? If he did does Bruce know?? If so how did he react?? (Sorry for the incessant questions 😅 I love this au)

He does! He’s met them a few times when he goes to sit in Martha’s piano room. He tells them all about how Bruce has been doing and what their grandkids are like. They help him with his homework sometimes.

As for if Bruce knows, I don’t think Tim tells him for a while? Because everyone knows that Bruce’s parents are a sore spot for him, so Tim is afraid of what Bruce would think if he knew that Tim was spending time with his parents for years without telling him. (Granted that he COULDN’T tell him because Tim’s been keeping his abilities a secret for his whole life.) When he does eventually come clean about the ghost thing and seeing Thomas and Martha, Bruce doesn’t react the way Tim expects him to. He just asks if they’re at peace, and Tim says they are. Then he asks Tim to tell them that Bruce misses them every day.

They don’t talk about it again, but Bruce is lighter after that. There’s a weight off his shoulders.

#lay it on me papa bob #tim sees ghosts au

74 notes · View notes

bigfan-fanfic · 4 years

Note

Talk to me about Bruce and BadDad becoming grandparents. Bruce has passed on Batman to the younger generation while BatDad eases off a little on his social and charity engagements (just a little tho). The 2 of them completely spoiling their grandchildren whether they're biological or adopted and their sons feeling a little left out as a result. Alfred's still at the manor (duh), but he's got an assistant to do the heavy duty stuff. They're both silverfoxes or going bald but they're still smitten with each other 🥰🥰

Honestly, the only way Bruce retires safely is with Batdad at his side. The public persona of Bruce Wayne matures overnight, and supports his husband at all engagements . Batdad is way better at keeping their sons feeling loved, but Bruce is a totally different person with his grandkids - loving and kind, the kind of person Thomas and Martha Wayne hoped he could become. In truth, Batman may do a lot of good, but he holds Bruce back. At retiring, he can finally move on.

Bruce insists his husband ages better than he does, and finally he can show affection, be soft and tender, submissive and needy. He may regret a little having delayed this sweet time with his family for so long, for dragging his kids into it, but he won't regret the lives saved when he was the Bat.

42 notes · View notes

wonderlandleighleigh · 4 years

Photo

More information on self-indulgent OC’s.

So...here’s - look. Okay.

You know how making Bruce Wayne a grandfather is endlessly entertaining?

Yeah. That’s- yeah.

So I gave him tons of grandkids. Some of them make appearances. Some of them don’t. Some of them weave in and out of things I write. I have no consistency with this.

Let’s start from the top.

James “Jim” Grayson: Dick and Barbara’s daughter. She’s adopted, and her biological mother really did think she was going to have a son, and so Dick and Babs had picked out “James,” naming him after Babs’ father. But uh...they had a girl. And decided not to change it. Jim is gregarious and fun-loving. She does flips and shit like her father. She’s not quite the brain that her mother is (who is, really?), but looks up to Babs to no end. Bruce’s oldest grandchild.

Wallace “Wally” Grayson: Adopted by Dick and Barbara, this boy is loud and boisterous and ready to love you a lot.

Thomas “Tommy” Todd: Jason and Maggie’s son. Snarky and has a deep love of science.

Grace “Gracie” Todd: Jason and Maggie’s daughter. Sweet and very girly, with her big eyes and ringlets. Most people don’t really think she takes after Jason much...except that she...kinda does. She’s sweet, but uh...she’ll also punch you.

Miranda Cain-Row: Cassandra and Harper’s adopted daughter. Smarter than all of the other kids and twice as witty.

Martha “Marti” Drake: Tim and Ramona’s only child, she is ADORABLE, and very shy. Not a mean bone in her tiny little body.

Melanie “Mel” Allen: Stephanie Brown and Bart Allen’s daughter. The fastest girl alive. Upbeat as fuck. really likes girls. Super gay when she grows up.

Ruffles, Rocky and Rosie Thomas: Duke and Claire didn’t want children. They have three golden retrievers.

Grayson “Gray” and Charles “Charlie” Wayne: Damian and Willow’s twins. Gray is a very stoic and very serious little girl. Becomes proficient in combat of all different kinds. Her brother Charlie is...a fuckin’ goofball and a genius mechanic.

A bunch of these stories can be found under my grandpa bruce tag. They also pop up here and here. And uh...Charlie had his own little adventure.

#grandpa bruce #fic #my self indulgent oc's

22 notes · View notes

lowin · 5 years

Link

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Batman - All Media Types, Batman (Comics) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Bruce Wayne & Martha Wayne & Thomas Wayne, Jason Todd & Martha Wayne & Thomas Wayne, Jason Todd & Bruce Wayne Characters: Bruce Wayne, Martha Wayne, Thomas Wayne, Jason Todd (Mentioned), Damian Wayne (Mentioned), Dick Grayson Additional Tags: Bruce Wayne is a Good Parent, I don’t care what DC writers say, This Is Sad, I Made Myself Cry, Jason Todd is an angel, Jason Todd Deserves Better, everybody needs a hug, Martha Wayne loves her grandkids, and so does Thomas Wayne, Past Child Character Death, and this time it’s Jason AND Damian, Past Character Death, that’s Martha and Thomas, this is an answer for Bruce telling Thomas he has one child, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, ok no comfort, but hopeful ending, Kinda, The Author Regrets Nothing, Jason Todd is a nerd Summary:

Martha and Thomas talk to Bruce about his son.

Bruce thinks it’s Damian.

#It's Jason #I know nothing of Bruce's religious believes #only that he deserves to go to hell after telling his father he has only one son #bruce wayne #martha wayne #thomas wayne #jason todd #my writing #jason todd went to heaven when he died #Bruce Wayne is a good dad #fuck you dc writers #sophie writes #sophie writes angst

8 notes · View notes

gayspacememe · 6 years

Text

It has come to my attention that some people ship Alfred Pennyworth with Martha and Thomas Wayne. This, of course, means I have ridiculous headcanons to share

Alfred didn't start as a butler, but as Martha and Thomas's boyfriend

One time, he decided to clean the manor for the upcoming gala because he was nervous (it was the first time he was appearing in public as their arm candy) and he finds cleaning soothing

Some rich person at the party complimented the Waynes on finding such an amazing butler, not knowing it was actually Alfred who made everything pretty

Afterwards, Alfred was like "fuck yeah being a butler is my dream job" but Martha and Thomas were like "I'm glad you have an activity that helps you but if you were our butler that would mean, as your employers, we would be in a position of power over you and that would be a very unhealthy relationship"

Alfred then shows them a contract that basically says "Alfred cleans as much or as little as wants and gets paid in smooches"

The contract also has sparkly heart shaped stickers

All three of them sign in glitter pen

When Bruce says he had three parents he meant that he had three parents from the start, not that Alfred became his replacement dad

Bruce didn't know about the smooches being payment, so while he helped pay Alfred when he was younger, he stopped when be became emo

Bruce is also a dumbass who never told his kids that the butler thing is just a long running joke

So when Damian takes over the manor he's like "I must renew Pennyworth's contract or he will stop taking care of me also I am a fool who doesn't realize when people care about me"

He looks at the contract and is so confused

"Alfred??? What is this??? Are you not actually our butler???"

"Master Damian :) I have not gotten paid in 2 decades :)) I expect to be paid in full :))) with interest :)))) come give your grandpa a smooch :)))))"

Alfred is a lier though because all of his other grandkids give him smooches, even if they don't know about the contract

@rebay-lovely

#alfred pennyworth #batfam #bruce wayne #damian wayne #martha wayne #thomas wayne #what's their ship name?#lunchtime with lovely #my post

93 notes · View notes

bruciemilf · 2 years

Text

IMAGINE AN AU WHERE THOMAS AND MARTHA COME BACK TO LIFE??? No magic explains it. No science CAN.

Tim is wrecking his brains trying to find a logical, sane reason as to why his dead grandparents (who aren't dead - for the time being) are currently sitting in the living room, eating Alfred's cookies, and looking around for Bruce

" Chum?! Chum! It's dad! Come here! Who's this in our living room?"

" Bruce! Mommy's home! I'm sorry for being gone for so long, but that movie was just so long, I-"

Tim freezes. They think Bruce is still eight.

And Bruce walks in; drawn by the noise and Alfred's attempts to sit the pair down.

More wound than man, drowning in a dark shirt and sweatpants, eyes punched purple and dark red and bruised to hell and back;

His arm is broken, his leg too, and Tim knows for a fact he shouldn't be walking around with those five broken ribs. But God, - he's never seen his dad look so tiny before; So glassy-eyed and shaken.

For the love of all that's holy let Martha Wayne gently frame Bruce's face with her hands and stare at him, dusting off time with her eyes, and let Thomas do the same.

"...Mama?"

" ...BRUCE?!"

LET THOMAS AND MARTHA BE PROTECTIVE AS FUCK OVER THEIR SON! LET THEM MEET THEIR GRANDKIDS! Let Thomas " Catch These Hands" Wayne and Jason " Catch This Murder" Todd BOND.

" Look, I know what you're going to say, Gramps. I shouldn't blame dad for not wanting to kill Joker,"

" Yes, but that's behind us, big guy"

" And that murder isn't the answer and that I should just move on, but,-"

" Oh, no! That guy's a monster and we need to put him down. What's his address?"

GIVE ME BRUCE AND MARTHA PLAYING PIANO TOGETHER WHILE CASS FORCES DAMIAN INTO A DANCE WITH HER! GIVE ME MARTHA MAKING DICK BLUSH BY ASKING ABOUT " this pretty Kori girl in your phone"

Most importantly, give me Thomas and Martha Wayne trying to convince Bruce to give up Batman. Thomas says it'd be an easy enough job, someone else can do it! Bruce pouts, " Try doing it, then"

Thomas almost breaks his back by pretending to be Batman for like a night and becomes the new meme of Gotham when he steals a shotgun from Alfred and just patrols with it

#thomas wayne has teddy Roosevelt vibes no i will not elaborate #bruce wayne #thomas wayne #martha wayne #jason todd #dick grayson #tim drake #damian wayne #batfam #batfamily #alternative universe #dc #dc comics #text #text post

10K notes · View notes

hamiltrash2097-blog · 7 years

Text

AU Bio

PLEASE TAKE NOTE THAT THERE ARE LAWS IN PLACE ALLOWING SAME SEX COUPLES TO MARRY AND GET BONDED IF THEY ARE SOUL MATES.

Alexander Hamilton:

Race: West Indian/Scottish

Age: 22

Endotype: Omegan Male

Soulmate: John Laurens

Status: married and bonded

Children: Artemis(alpha female) and Philip(omegan male)

Occupation: Treasury Secretary/Lawyer

Party: Federalist

Friends: Burr, Jefferson, Madison, Washingtons, Lafayette

Bilingual: speaks fluent French and English

John Laurens:

Race: Caucasian

Age: 25

Endotype: Alpha Male

Soulmate: Alexander Hamilton

Status: married and bonded. Father of 2 pups

Occupation: Abolitionist and Lt. Colonel of Army. In charge of building the first all black regiment.

Party: neutral

Friends: Martha Manning, Burr, Washingtons, Lafayette.

Lafayette:

Race: Caucasian

Age: 27

Status: married and bonded

Soulmate: Adrienne

Children: Anne (omega female)

Occupation: General for America's army

Party: neutral

Friends: Hamiltons, Burr, Washintons, Jefferson

Bilingual: speaks French and English

Burr:

Race: Caucasian

Age: 28

Endotype: Beta

Status: married and bonded

Soulmate: Theodisia Provst

Children: Theodisia Jr.

Occupation: lawyer/ senator

Party: Democratic Republican

Friends: Hamilton, Laurens, Jefferson, Madison, Lafayette.

George Washington:

Race: Caucasian

Age: 40

Endotype: Alpha

Status: married and bonded

Soulmate: Martha Washington

Children: n/a

Occupation: President of the USA/ general of the army

Party: none

Friends: Laurens, Hamilton, Lafayette, Jefferson, Madison, Burr

Jefferson:

Race: Caucasian

Age: 35

Endotype: Alpha

Status: widower

Soulmate: Martha (decreased)

Children:

Occupation: Secretaryof State

Party: Democratic Republican

Friends: Hamilton, Burr, Madison, Lafayette

Madison:

Race: Caucasian

Age: 35

Endotype: Beta

Staus: married and bonded

Soulmate:

Children:

Occupation: senator

Party: Democratic Republican

Friends: Hamilton, Burr, Jefferson, John Jay, Washingtons

Alexander never believed he'd find his soulmate until one night in 1779 when he literally jumps into his arms during a thunder storm. His soul mate seemed oblivious but, in reality was just scared. Eventually Alex gives up hope that his mate will ever notice and becomes depressed.

John Laurens never expected his soulmate to jump into his arms crying nor did he expect it to be his attractive roommate Alexander Hamilton. He sees colors very briefly after touching Alex then the candle goes out. He is so afraid of what his father will do should he find out that he treats Alex no differently other than asking that he sleep in his own bed. As time passes Alex stops flirting with him even when they're joking around with Lafayette at the bar. Alex also becomes quiet and closed off to him working later at night to avoid him.

The Winter's Ball comes around and Alex has barely spoken to him in the past 3 months unless he had to. The omega is paler and skinnier than the other soldiers even with the shortages. Eliza asks Alex to dance and talks about having a life together. Alex politely mentions that they just met before excusing himself. He goes into the garden alone feeling worse. John joins him demanding to know why Alex has been avoiding him. Alex snaps yelling that they're soul mates but it doesn't matter since John is gonna marry Martha Manning after the war ends.

He begs to be left alone in his misery. John refuses pulling him into a hug trying to calm him down. Alex struggles crying for him to go back to Martha. John starts crying himself, "I don't want Martha I want you." Alex looks at him, "You what?" John gets on one knee, "I want you Alexander Hamilton." Alex leaps into his arms crying yes. They kiss right as midnight strikes.

They marry in 1782 taking a small honeymoon to France to visit Lafayette. Alex meets Thomas and explains the state of things in America. Thomas agrees action is needed. They all narrowly escape the beginning of the French Revolution and return home. Both Hamilton and Jefferson become part of the cabinet. They often disagree mostly over Hamilton's financial plan. Through compromise the plan goes through at which time Alex discovers that he's pregnant. He avoids telling John at first having never didcussed having a family with him in their 4 months of being married and bonded. Eventually he tells John and breaks down after John silently begins to cry. He apologizes getting himself more worked up until John yells at him silencing his rambling. He hugs a crying Alex saying that he's not upset but, rather happy to have pups with Alex. 9 months later the twins Artemis and Philip are born. Artemis inherited Alex's anxiety disorder making her rather quiet. Maria does end up seeking aid from Alex to escspe her abusive husband. No affair occurs rather John upon seeing her condition asks her to get her daughter. She ends up living with them through the trial and often visits after everything settled.

John moves his completed regiment North to the rear of the property given to them by Washington as a wedding gift. The kids grow up knowing racial equality and love playing with Daisy the daughter of the right hand of the regiment Poppey.

move on. Philip and Artemis help their mother as well. Eventually the twins find their soul mates and get married. They have several grandkids making Alex happy.

Alex dies peacefully in his sleep of a broken heart a few years later. His funeral is a quiet affair and Burr follows him to eturnity shortly after for the same reason. Their children and grandchildren tell their stories and often visit their graves.

Henry Laurens dies in a duel with his son Henry Jr.

James Reynolds dies in prison and Lee is sentenced to life after the public discovers he shot John.

Eventuslly they all meet again on the other side and enjoy eturnity together.

#abo-soulmate au #lams #bio

8 notes · View notes

tamlins-stories-and-poems · 7 years

Text

Title: Parallels Word count: 4,477 Summary: Dick has noticed many parallels between himself and both Bruce and Damian. Sort of a mood piece, and a little too long for that. No real plot, just a couple of ideas that wanted to be written.

I would like to thank @fire-fira and @thrakaboom for their help with this piece! ❤️

It seemed every time Dick blinked these days there was something new that was a parallel between himself and his mentor. Or between Damian and his younger self. He thought back a decade, to the early days, when it was just him and Bruce, almost brothers, yet also a father and a son. “Please?” He begged back then, asking for a pet of his own. “No, Ace is more than enough.” Bruce had replied.

And he looked over at Damian, holding up the stray cat he’d found on patrol. “Please?” Damian asked. Dick felt his heart rend as he shook his head. “Don’t you have enough already? We’ll drop her off at a shelter on our way home. We can even donate a couple grand to it, if you want.” And Damian grumbled, just like Dick had, while Dick tried not to give in to the betrayed expression, just like Bruce had. — “Aren’t you supposed to be my dad, Bruce?” “Well, I am your guardian, yes.” “So why won’t you get me a bike?” Eight year old Dick looked longingly at a shiny red bicycle in a store window, gripping Bruce’s hand. “We’ll talk later, champ. Your adoptaversary is coming up, maybe then.” “That’s not a word, B!” And Dick had laughed, hugging the man’s arm before running ahead to look at something else.

But now Dick smiled as he saw Damian’s eyes widen hopefully, staring at a set of oil paints. Damian tried to pretend that hadn’t happened, but his gaze kept flicking back. “Grayson, I have noticed that you never gift me anything.” He said, slyly. “You want those paints? The anniversary of you arriving at the manor is coming up. We’ll talk about it.” Dick patted Dami’s shoulder affectionately, forcing himself not to turn to the window where that bike he’d so admired had once been, before he’d received it, and eventually passed it down the line all the way to Damian. It was dented, scratched, misused, beaten, and had been forgotten around the city multiple times by each new member of the household, but it always came home, and it was so full of love that Dick could swear it had its own spirit now. “I know a trick to make Bruce get you anything.” He promised. — “Batman, you’re injured, you can’t go on patrol tonight! Let Batgirl and me handle it!”

“Nightwing if you dare even think about patrolling tonight Drake and I will duck tape you to your bed until you’re better. Let the rest of us take care of this.” — “Dick, listen to me, getting sick is normal. If it means you need to take a night or two off, that’s fine. Don’t worry about it. You need the sleep anyways, you’re a growing boy.”

“Damian I don’t care how good you’re feeling, you have a fever and you’re staying home. Sleep helps you grow taller, by the way, if you make sure to get enough sleep you will be taller than Tim someday.” — “I’m sorry you have to have your birthday without your parents again, Dick. But, the League and I put together a little something for you, could you please come down with me?” And Bruce had led him down to the Batcave, then through the zeta to the watch tower were there were lots of gifts and friends waiting for him.

Years later, Dick said, “Come on Dami, I’ve got a surprise for you. I’m sorry Bruce is busy again, but with so many of us, he can’t take every birthday off. He hasn’t taken mine off since Jason joined us.” And he smiled a little, trying to hide the bitterness, as he led Damian through the zeta to the Kents’ farm, where Alfred, their siblings, the whole super family, and all of Damian’s hero friends were waiting, with presents and cake. — Eleven year old Dick swung through the trees, Bruce chasing behind him, worried that he’d fall. As if Dick didn’t pull more dangerous stunts every night.

Thirteen year old Damian balanced on a skateboard at the park, Dick hovering nervously by the edge of the ramp, terrified that the boy would break a bone. As if Damian hadn’t just taken down the Joker, solo, the night before. — Bruce lounging by his armchair, watching the fire crackle. Little ten year old Dick came happily in with a pair of mugs and a bag of cookies. Hot chocolate and snickerdoodles. Bruce took the mugs as Dick climbed into his lap and snuggled in, giggling excitedly. It was Chanukah and they’d spent the day with the Kanes, celebrating. Now it was just them and Alfred, relaxing at the Manor. The butler sat down with his own mug(and cookies), and smiled, watching his two charges drift off to sleep before he eventually did the same.

Dick was dozing on the couch as Damian came into the room. A fire burned cheerily in the hearth as the snow fell outside. It wasn’t a holiday, and Tim was sprawled over Dick’s lap, dreaming of patrols that wouldn’t leave him chilled to the bone. Damian didn’t care much for chocolate, or so he claimed, but he hung the tea kettle by the fire. Just far enough that it wouldn’t heat up anymore, but close enough to keep it warm. He set the stack of cups on the coffee table in the middle of the circle of chairs and couches surrounding the fire. For a full moment, Damian hesitated. He didn’t want to disturb his sleeping brothers, no matter how much he pretended to hate Tim. Cass scooped him up and plopped down next to Dick. They all snuggled into each other, as Jason and Duke snuck to the other side, lifting Tim’s legs to get closer to the furnace that was their pile of siblings. And in his sleep, Dick smiled. — “Robin, no!” Bruce yanked Dick back by his cape, just in time. The bullet zipped right through where the eight year old would’ve been had he not been grabbed. “Don’t scare me like that, please. You could’ve died!”

“Robin, stop!” Dick grabbed the cape of his twelve year old brother, pulling him back just before the bullet train ran over the tracks where he would’ve been. “Don’t you dare die on me, I can’t lose another Robin!” He hissed, then his tone softened, becoming quiet, and almost sounding lost. “You scared me.” — Robin perched on Batman’s shoulder, watching the building that the drug cartel was supposed to be in. The condition for his first real long mission was that he not leave Batman’s side, until or unless he was ordered to go home. Perhaps he was taking it too literally. Perhaps not. Either way, he was sticking as close as he physically could.

Damian was a solid presence, practically glued to Dick’s hip as he fought some thugs that stood between them and information on Bruce. Dick had agreed to let Damian come out as Robin, so long as he follow all of Dick’s orders and stuck as close as he could. The man withheld a smirk, remembering his first stakeout turned battle. Perhaps this boy could be Robin after all. — “Dick, I’m letting Jason be Robin now, he needs it.” “You can’t do that! Robin is my costume, my name to give! You can’t take that from me Bruce!” “He needs this, Dick, please. He needs to be Robin, just like you did. You’re Nightwing now, surely this isn’t taking anything from you.” “Shows what you know, jerk.” He’d actually called Bruce something much worse than “jerk” that day, something that was as much insulting Thomas and Martha as it was insulting Bruce, but that was never the way he told the story.

“Dick, what do you mean you don’t want me as your Robin?” “Tim, you’re Red Robin now, and you’ve outgrown being Robin. Damian, he needs it. Like you did, like Steph did, like Jason did, like I did. Of course I still want to work with you, but think of how much Damian needs this. Besides, could you imagine you being the Robin to my Batman? That would be just weird.” Tim shook his head, angry and disbelieving, but Dick took it as agreement. “I knew I could count on you, Timmy.” Dick beamed. And Tim watched him turn and leave while betrayal seized his heart, like Dick’s had when Bruce had passed on the Robin mantle without asking. — Fifteen year old Dick had been rebellious. “You’re not my real dad” and “let me live my life, Bruce” had been phrases said multiple times a day by the boy. Bruce hadn’t had a clue what to do, and even Alfred could barely keep the rebellion in check He’d insisted that he was a grown man, that he should move out, and that after nearly seven years of being a vigilante he was prepared for anything life could throw at him. Bruce struggled to explain how Dick couldn’t know everything and tried to keep the boy from running himself into the ground to prove himself, which only made him more insistent to do so.

Fifteen year old Damian was a terror on the Wayne household. Duke had turned eighteen, and there were no new manor dwelling members of the family. Sure, there were the children of the older Batbrats, but that wasn’t the same. While Bruce cried about his Baby Boy growing up, Damian rebelled against as many authority figures as he could. “Grayson, you aren’t my father, stop trying to act like you are!” He growled whenever Dick tried to give him any advice. “Leave me alone, Grayson!” He hissed when Dick tried to hug him as a greeting. Dick may’ve had Mar'i to smack Damian whenever he did something like that, but suddenly he realized how much it must’ve hurt Bruce when he’d done that as a teen. (Bruce found apology cookies from all of his grandkids and Dick waiting for him at breakfast the next day) — “B, I’m cold.” Eight year old Dick had never experience winter in the north before, and Batman and Robin couldn’t take the holidays off. Bruce smiled apologetically, barely noticeable in the dark, and wrapped part of his cloak around Dick, who pulled it tight around his shoulders.

Damian tried not to shiver as they walked down the street. The weather report had predicted warmer temperatures that evening, but even after a decade, Dick still chilled easily. He didn’t say anything as he unbuttoned his great coat, and pulled Damian close to his side. A spare hat was produced from a pocket, and tucked over Damian’s ears. “I’m not cold.” Damian protested. “If you say so.” Dick shrugged, and hugged Dami closer. “I am though, and you feel nice and warm.” “Well, then, I’ll stay here to keep you warm.” Damian looked away, and Dick hid a smile. — “Dick, don’t touch that.” Bruce ordered. “You weren’t even looking at me!” Dick complained, pulling away from whatever it has been he’d been about to poke. “Secret parent power. You’ll get it someday.” Bruce said, still not looking up from his paperwork. “Meanie!” Dick stomped out.

“Damian you shouldn’t touch that.” “Grayson you didn’t even notice me coming in!” Damian looked offended, but took a step back from the generator. “How did you do that?” “Secret parent power. You might get it someday, if you land yourself another bat brat.” Dick planted a kiss on his daughter’s head. “You’re actually the one who made me learn it. I had a little bit of it from the previous Brats, but you’re the one who really made it click for me.” He looked up from his book to give Damian a quick smile. “Come on over here.” “Okay. Jerk.” — Bruce smiled as he watched nine year old Dick throw himself at the playground with reckless abandon, and in years following, he stood off to the side and watched Dick have fun coming up with new moves and training with the other young heroes of the time. From chucking. Hamster Gar, who would shift into a larger form, to being launched by Kaldur or Conner or Donna or Koriand'r so that he could throw his birdarangs from a better angle. Bruce kept smiling at those sessions even after Dick was an adult, and both of them felt he’d do it until they no longer were happening. Dick would always be his Robin.

Dick beamed proudly at Damian, as he sparred/roughhoused with Jon and Maya, and sometimes Colin. There would be more heroes their age as they grew older, but right now they made a great trinity. He might not have been wearing the cowl, but the pride in his chest was very much the pride of Batman, watching his Robin learn to work with his age mates to fight crime and villainy. Maybe he would take up Bruce’s offer to be Batman for a decade or so when the old man retired. He could split the job with Jason, if Jason came home, and then he could still be Nightwing once in a while. And Dick kept smiling as Damian pinned Jon, using Colin to do so. That was HIS Robin. — Bruce never said anything as his bedroom door creaked up, always well after midnight. He waited until Dick crawled into his bed and had hidden under his covers. “What was it this time sport?” He rumbled, scooting to the side to leave a little more room for the shivering tangle of limbs that he called Robin. “Mom and Dad again. Only this time, you were with them, and you had time to see the rope breaking. You tried to jump to the platform I was on, but they dragged you down. The splat was louder tonight.” A shudder shook the small body, and Bruce wrapped his arm tighter around the boy. “Well, I’m here, and I’m not a smear. I promise you that I’ll never leave you.” “Can you really promise that?” Dick forced himself into a kneeling position, and Bruce cracked an eye open to look at him. “Can you?” “Probably not.” Bruce admitted. “But I can do my absolute best to keep everyone as safe as possible. I’m Batman, remember? No one can keep Batman down.” Dick giggled a little, and used his whole arm to wipe away tears. “Yeah.” He agreed. “Please don’t die, Bruce.” “I’ll do my best.” Bruce promised, and Dick lay back down, wrapping himself around Bruce’s arm and pressing his back into Bruce’s side, and together, they fell asleep, comforted by the knowledge that the other was right there.

The first time Dick heard his door open in the middle of the night, it had been Jason, when Bruce was away on a business trip. For Jason, Dick had sat up, invited him over, promised that he didn’t hate him for being Robin, and talked him through the nightmare, then sent him back to his room. Jason only came to him once. Tim made his way to Dick’s room on his first night after moving in. He’d stayed the night before, but this was different, and he’d just seen his parents’ corpses. Dick let him stay, still feeling guilty about shooing Jason out. Tim only went to Bruce when Dick was away. Cass didn’t speak about her nightmares, she didn’t know the words. Heck, she didn’t even open the door. Tim had also had a nightmare that night, and Dick was talking him through how to remember that it wasn’t real, when Cass was hugging his side. After another half hour of calming down, and a group trip down to the kitchen for some nightmare-be-gone tea (chamomile and rose hips) that Alfred always left prepared, Dick carried them back to his room and tucked them in to his bed, before crashing in the beanbag chair nearby. He bought himself a bigger bed after that. Damian had refused to admit that he had nightmares. Dick only found out about them one night when he was leading the visiting Steph to the kitchen and heard his sobs. He picked the youngest member of the household up and carried him down. He pretended not to see the tears and insisted that he just wanted company to help Steph past her nightmare. “You can help us get Steph past her Nightmare, can’t you, Damian?” For a week after that, Damian slept curled into his eldest brother’s arms. Various other members of the Batclan joined them, even including Babs one night, but Damian would not be budged, and refused to talk about it. After that week, he still showed up most nights. Sometimes crying, sometimes not, and if he was crying, Dick would rock him to sleep before lying back down himself. When Dick moved to Blüdhaven, the others still came to him, and the occasional guest asked why Dick had such a large bed. And Dick would fall asleep, remembering the days he’d gone crying to Bruce after a bad dream, and smiled at the fact that he was now the one giving that kind of comfort to the others. — “Whoa! We have a pool! Since when?” Dick beamed back at Babs and Bruce, standing on the back porch and bouncing on his toes excitedly. “Longer that I’ve lived here.” Bruce chuckled. “I know we’ve been busy fighting crime, and celebrating birthdays, but surely you can’t have missed the pool this long. You’ve been here nearly six months!"t "If I saw it, I was too tired to realize what it was!” Dick turned and ran towards the pool. “Don’t run by the pool!” Bruce boomed, and Dick froze up, shivering in shock. “Oh, champ, I’m sorry…” Bruce walked over, “It’s just that the tiles are really smooth, and they probably haven’t dried from yesterday’s rain, so you could get hurt if you- please don’t cry.” “Batman and Robin, everybody.” Babs murmured, rolling her eyes a little. “Dick, come on, we can still go swimming.” “You just can’t run by the pool.” Bruce insisted, his hands rested gently on the boy’s shoulders as he was crouched in front of him. “You could fall, and hit your head on the edge.” “I don’t fall.” Dick whispered. “I know you don’t fall when you’re doing acrobatics, but you always have a firm grasp on whatever surface you’re jumping off of there.” Bruce said. “Here, feel the tiles.” Gently he took one of Dick’s hands and touched it to the smooth, wet stone. Slick enough that even with sandpaper like feet, Dick would’ve lost his footing. “See?” “I guess it’s a good thing you made me stop, then.” Dick forced a watery smile. “Can we play in the pool now?” “Sure. Want me to get the waterguns?” Bruce smiled back. “No guns, Bruce.” Both of his sidekicks reminded him, and everyone laughed.

“I bet I can beat you to the pool, Grayson.” Damian said, on one of the rare days they were taking off while Bruce was gone. He took off at a sprint, and horrors flashed through Dick’s mind. “Don’t run by the pool, Dami!” His voice came out as more of a shriek than anything else, and Damian skidded to a halt, confused and trying to hide the hurt that came from his Batman shouting at him. “Please don’t run by the pool.” Dick begged. “You know what water does to tile?” “It makes it into a good trap.” Damian stated, then paused, as Dick kneeled in front of him, placing his hands on Damian’s shoulders. “The pool is surrounded by tile.” “Yes,” Dick nodded. “The tile is quite likely to be wet.” “Very much so.” “Even with my skill, the lack of traction could cause me to slip and be injured.” Dick sighed in relief, glad Damian had more sense than he had years ago. “Exactly. Now, what do you say we walk to the pool. I could ask Alfred to grab us the waterguns?” “I thought this was a ‘no gun’ family, Grayson.” And Dick threw back his head and laughed, remembering his first day at the family pool. Damian just blinked in confusion at that. — “Hey, Wally?” Robin was sitting on a roof in central city, the Batplane behind him. “Yeah, Robin, 'sup?” Wally grinned at him, cheerily. “You feeling okay?” “I guess.” Robin shrugged. “Doesn’t it bother you that you don’t know my real name?” He looked over at his slightly older companion, who was leaning on the ledge that the younger sidekick was sitting on. “I mean, sometimes, but bro, don’t worry about it, Batman wants too keep your secret identities secret.” Wally babbled out quickly, trying to convince his friend that he didn’t need to feel guilty. “But, you’re my best friend, Wally, you should know who I really am!” Robin insisted. “Rob, don’t worry about it!” Insisted the young speedster. “It’s fine, I promise! You don’t have to tell me.” Robin turned around, bringing his feet back to the top of the roof. “But it’s not fair!” He argued. “I know who you are, and we save each other’s lives on a biweekly basis!” “Robin, we’re superheroes, it’s fine!” Wally insisted. “No, you’re a superhero, I’m just some kid in a cape and a mask who does flips really well!” Robin argued, throwing his hands up in the air. “Please, Wally?” “I mean, I can’t stop you if you want to tell me your name. But you’re going to get in trouble if you do, Rob.” Wally shook his head. “Maybe just get away edge of the roof first.” “Okay.” Robin hopped away from the ledge around the roof, and walked into the shadow of the Batplane. “My real name is Richard Grayson, but everyone’s always called me-” “Please say Richie.” Wally interrupted. A smirk slid across Robin’s face, as he pulled of his mask. “Nah. I’m Dick.” Wally groaned. And Bruce was understandably annoyed at the unasked use of the Batplane to break a major household rule, which led to a week of no deserts for Robin. (Don’t listen to him, Alfred snuck Dick desert)

It had been Colin he revealed himself to first, of course. Colin, who he spent so much time with. Colin who was the only of his best friends who hadn’t been told by a mentor or figured it out on his own. Maya was a worthy detective in her own right: smart, sharp, and unyielding. Jon had been told before they even met. But Colin, Colin was the first person with whom he willingly shared. “Wilkes, I am about to share with you some vital information, information that, if you are not careful, could end with you causing my death.” Damian stated. They were in one of the Bats many Gotham safehouses, Colin wasn’t wise as to its true nature, and simply thought it was where Robin and Nightwing lived. Speaking of; Nightwing was in the kitchen, attempting to make something resembling food and prepared to run damage control if things got out of hand. “Oookay…” Colin fidgeted nervously on the couch, and glanced over to where Jon and Maya were napping after the day’s particularly intense mission. “Any reason you’re doing this when they may or may not be able to hear us? But, uh, I promise to be extra careful with whatever you’re about to tell me.” “Good.” Damian nodded, a little sharply. Part of him felt like backing out, like letting one of the others tell Colin if he ever got kidnapped as a civilian, like not showing such a strong degree of trust to a friend who had clearly earned it. “First off, Nightwing and I do not actually live here, this is merely one of our safe-houses.” “What?!” Colin yelped in shock, “If you guys are loaded enough to have more than one safe house, which is kind of what you just implied, then how come you’re fighting petty criminals with brute force?!” “We fight 'em by giving them jobs, too! Well, Batman does, he’s the one with the money. We still all live in his house.” Nightwing called, from the kitchenette. “Nightwing, let me do this, please.” Robin glowered, and his mentor beamed sunnily before making a noise and trying to stop the pizza water from boiling over. “Okay, so you guys are loaded, what next? Are you famous as civilians too?” Colin asked, looking a little stunned. “Somewhat.” Robin agreed. “My name is Damian Wayne.” There was silence. Well, other than Nightwing muttering angrily about his complete inability to cook for himself. “…what.” Colin finally said. “I just told you-” Damian tried. “I know what you just told me, but what I can’t figure out is what kind of dream I’m having. Did I go to some weird alternate reality, did I end up back in the lab-or did I ever even escape it- and somehow get some sort of really weird hallucination, or did you just lose your mind?” Damian frowned, “Wilkes, I assure you-” “You expect me to believe that you’re really Damian Wayne, son of billionaire Bruce Wayne, and you’re going out every night to fight the Rogues gallery with a street kid?” Colin demanded, getting up and poking Damian in the chest. “That someone with as much money as that would willingly go out and get shot at on a regular basis?” “No.” Damian replied, and pushed Colin back to the couch. “I’m stating that this is a fact and letting you do what you want with said information, asking that you please not spread it.” “So the 'Butts Match’ guy was right?” Colin asked. “Tim’s greatest diversion, if you ask me.” Nightwing called, before fire erupted from inside the pasta pot. “Dang it! Dami!” “On it, Grayson.” Damian had the fire out and stove off instantly. “Next time we are without Todd or Pennyworth, I will do the cooking.” Nightwing slumped in defeat, but nodded. “Wilkes, if you’ll wake Ducart and Kent, we can go back to the manor and get a proper dinner, since this stove is currently unusable thanks to this idiot.” Damian elbowed Nightwing in the stomach. “Alright, assuming this is true, sure, let’s go to Wayne Manor for dinner!” Colin threw his hands up. “That sounds like a great plan!” “Wonderful!” Nightwing beamed, pretending to not pick up on the dripping sarcasm. “I’ll call Alfred!” — Yes, there were many parallels, Dick mused, and while maybe not all of them were good, he wasn’t sure that mattered. Not as he drifted to sleep in a sibling pile in his apartment in Blüdhaven, surrounded by people who loved him and the type of family he would once have never believed he could possible gain. Someone grunted as someone else accidentally kicked them, and all seemed well with the world.

#dick Grayson #robin #Robin I/Nightwing #nightwing #robin iv #damian wayne #bruce wayne #batman #dick!bats #alfred pennyworth #dc comics #fanfic #fan fiction #TamLin's Works #TamLin's Work #TamLin's Writing #read more #fluff #mood writing

50 notes · View notes

fluorescentpurplejellyfish · 4 years

Text

Let's Talk About the Founding Fathers and Slavery

Let's start off by saying that when I say "Founding Fathers", I'm lumping together everyone who had a hand in creating the Declaration of Independence and the Constitution. I'm going to be focussing on Jefferson a lot because I don't think you understand how much of a PUZZLE this guy is to modern historians. There was a really good display in the Smithsonian called Paradox of liberty that featured the writing desk he used to write the Declaration of Independence, and behind him the list of all the slaves he owned in his lifetime. (Spoiler alert: it's A LOT)

You've probably seen the screencaps from Twitter that point out all of the Founding Fathers who were slave owners. And they're right, a large number of them were slave owners. But I also think it's important to look at the history of those same mens' attempts to abolish or at least outright condemn slavery (something the American government refused to do in later years) right from the word go.

When the Committee of Five (Benjamin Franklin, John Adams, Thomas Jefferson, Robert Livingston, and Roger Sherman) were brought together to write up a Declaration of Independence, their first draft included a paragraph in the list of grievances that condemned England for introducing slavery to America, and attacked the practice itself (read it here). Adams is well known for being very outspoken in general, but especially about slavery (He was an abolitionist lawyer who worked to help runaway slaves). The rest of the committee with the exception of Livingston were all slave owners, Jefferson was probably the largest slaveholder. He owned over 600 slaves in his lifetime (not all at once, but total).

Yet at the same time he was also outspoken against slavery. He called it a "moral depravity" and a "hideous blot". He thought slavery was the biggest threat to the union, and went against the laws of nature which he believed declared that all men had a right to personal liberty. He helped draft a law in 1778 that prohibited the importation of slaves to Virginia. In 1784 he proposed that slavery be banned in the Northwest territories (the Monticello site has a lot to say about all this and has a lot of good references and primary sources).

When the southern delegates and a few of the Northern ones, too who benefited from the slave trade (who's ships do you think they were using, and where do you think all the cotton for their textile mills came from?) read the draft of the declaration, they threatened to walk out and destroy the convention unless the "offending passage" was removed, which according to their rules meant that the subject of independence would never be brought up again. They argued for weeks over this one passage that condemned slavery, until Jefferson and the rest of the Committee of Five agreed to remove it as a compromise. Independence for America first, then slavery. If they didnt get their independence, then the rest of it wouldn't make a difference anyway, and all the work and sacrifices not just them but the people who were fighting and dying against England had made and were currently making wouldn't matter. The musical 1776 does a great job portraying this.

youtube

Many of these same men (with the exception of Jefferson and Adams who were away in Europe) met together again this time to write a constitution for their new government. James Madison included a passage that would end slavery. The delegates from North and South Carolina, Georgia and other southern states once again threatened to walk out if they continued to press the issue, resulting in compromises like the infamous Three-fifths Compromise and the agreement to end the importation of slaves after 1808, which would give them time to prepare for what the considered a radical change to their economy. Everyone thought that slavery would Peter out and die off on its own if they could at least end its increase.

Jefferson had a plan to end slavery and actively worked towards it from the 1770s to the day he died. It involved: 1. Ending transatlantic slave trade (which he did), 2. Requiring slaeowners to better the living conditions of their slaves, and 3. All slaves born after a certain date would be freed. Jefferson had felt that this plan was the best shot at making slavery unprofitable to slavewoners, and the only way to successfully end slavery would be if the slavholders willingly gave it up. He felt that it should be a democratic issue, and if they were forced, then the Southerners would dig in their heels and leave the union (which is exactly what happened). An unintended side effect of this plan is that a lot of people twisted it after his death and argued that if slavery could be "bettered" then there was no reason to abolish it. And despite the fact that the importation of slaves had been abolished, the number of slaves in the U.S. still continued to drastically increase ("forced pregnancies" is a nice way to say it).

George Washington was also frequently outspoken about slavery and attempted to free his slaves in his will and stipulated that any slaves that were to elderly or sick to work would be supported by the estate in perpetuity, but the vast majority had been inherited through his wife Martha from her previous husband Daniel Custis after he died without a will, and by law neither George or Martha could free them. So after her death the inherited slaves were divided up among her grandkids, while the rest were given their freedom by Martha.

There were many other Founding Fathers who were slave owners, and spoke out against slavery, such as Colonel George Mason, and I'd love to include them but this post is already waaaaay longer than I intended it to be. I just want to end with saying that I know we as people we like to try to fit other people into boxes or labels because it helps us to easily understand what role they play in the historical narrative, and I'm definitely not trying to give a definitive answer on whether or not anyone of these founding fathers were "good" or "bad". Historians much more experienced than I have been trying to reconcile how people who owned slaves could also be actively working against it at the same time. I'll end by saying that people are complicated, and I just don't think that you can accurately understand who a person is by only looking at one aspect of a bigger picture.

#seriously though go watch 1776 #Mr. Feeny from Boy Meets World plays John Adams #and they curse and make exactly as many dick jokes as they should #long post #history #slavery #Youtube

0 notes