#previous elemental master of lightning

[unknownsigils]

living in obscurity

[emperor-forneus]

i have like three episodes left of quadstrike before i'm finished with it and i'm STILL mourning what i thought it would be. i genuinely thought everyone was gonna get their own assigned element and upgrade their beys based on that. like imagine shu with fire (which has always been a thing with him LMAO) and having to make a brand new spriggan which can handle this overwhelming new power system the season is talking about. but no. we only got pax thinking he's the new avatar and everyone being shocked by the fact that the beys glow (AS IF THEY HAVEN'T BEEN DOING THAT AND WORSE FOR THE PAST.... ≈231 EPISODES??)

[miraculousninja-345]

Nai (libber) and Lilly talking about lou

I feel like they'd be friends if they ever met

[gr1m-is]

SOBBING

(Also i LOVE this au so so so much!)

yknow what, fuck you, [unhumans your previous elemental masters of lightning and ice and makes them best friends^_^]

Ice is an unspecified eldritch being. He has an uncanny valley effect on humans that unnerves the majority of the team who in turn can't understand how Libber, Garmadon, and Wu don't feel unsettled by him. Eventually, the teams warms up to him, and though no one becomes as close to him as Libber is, everyone knows they can come to him if they want to hex their ex or get a demon exorcised (sometimes these are one and the same).

Libber is a raijū and though this isn't common knowledge when she joins the elemental masters, news quickly spreads; she isn't great at keeping secrets. She DOES bite and Maya learnt this the hard way.

more art but also cw for death under read more

[miksterrr]

what if when an elemental master gives birth, their powers don't just instantly go to their kid, but it slowly saps away from them until their child is old enough and strong enough to handle the full intensity of the element.

what if that's why lilly got sick? she was so utterly connected with her element, it was embedded deep into her bones, it should've taken a long time for cole to fully achieve the full element, yet because cole was meant to be one of the protectors of the green ninja, one of the most powerful elementals of creation-

it didn't take long for lilly to realize why she was getting sick, at first she thought it was the earth getting sick- that's what happened to her father after all, when the earth got sick so did he, and that's why lilly inherted her element as young as she did but as she was dying and her son was getting strong she knew it was because of him. she never blamed him- she wondered why it was cole- why it was her who got this sick- why cole got that strong-

the element erroded itself away from lilly's bones- from her very soul, until she got sick, and cole just kept on getting more and more powerful and stronger as his mom got weaker and weaker. maybe that's why lou couldn't stand to look at cole for so long- why he avoided their home- bc he knew cole was in part, responsible for lilly's death.

what if that's why libber left jay at the walkers? maybe she thought there was a way to stop him from inheriting her powers- she knows how volatile her element is, how shrieking and blinding and buzzing lightning is. it was a double edged sword, leaving her son and cliff for the sake of them- seperating their little family just so her element wouldn't pass onto her son. she scoured the world to figure out a way to keep her powers to herself- to keep it so jay wouldn't end up like her- blind and shaky and unsure.

she tried so many spells and home remedies and just about anything to protect him. but she knew all of her effort was pointless. she can't tell you when she figured it out, but one day she just felt weak and sickly and her lighting didn't feel as volatile as it used too- she knew jay- her sweet little blue jay- had inherted her powers.

it didn't occur to her until it was too late that jay should've only been about fourteen- maybe fifteen- when most of herelement was depleted. it took libber until she was nineteen- maybe twenty when she had full access to her powers.

what if that's why zane had never met the ice elemental before him? or any other? of course the previous ice elemental was old, probably nearing his death when he gave his element to zane. instead of the ice slowly sapping away like it would've for a blood relation, it was near instantaneous. the ice elemental knew this- it was a tradition for the ice elementals- one he wasn't able to pass on in note or word- the instant disappearence of his element is what brought him to his death.

he had high hopes for zane, that's why he chose him. he's heard of dr. julien through his sister, about the man who can create things out of thought alone. it mystified the ice elemental, and when he met dr. julien's son, he knew, he knew that zane was the one to bare his element, and maybe the last one too.

elements are meant to be passed on- especially the elements of creation - they're not meant for one sole body to bare for years upon years, it deteriorates them as much as it powers them. but zane was a robot- his machinery like no other- and with the core of an ice elemental- he would live on for generations without fear of erosion to his body.

and something nagged at the old ice elemental, he could blame on wu if he tried, the man's superstitions finally herding their way to his mind- but something told him that zane would be unlike the other ice elementals- that his generation of elementals would be like no other before- maybe they'd be more powerful or experience more wars than his ever did- he'll never know until he meets them in the afterlife.

what if that's why it took kai so long to control his powers- for wu to find him and nya? even though their parents went missing and pressumed dead, they were still alive. ray and maya's powers were slowly seeping away from them as they worked for krux, but that was the only way they knew their kids were still alive- the only thing to keep them sane, knowing their kids were somewhat okay while they were out there.

what if that's why it took wu so long to tell nya of her heritage? or her element? wu was so focused on the elements of creation of the formidable source of them all- that he neglected nya's element. the boundless sea- powerful and destructive in its own right. it was something he had no control over- he knew all about the elements of creation but barely anything about how nya's work- only that as beautiful and habital the ocean can be, it can be devastating and damaging as well.

despite their parents powers slowly seeping away, kai and nya are powerful just like the others, both in their own right. kai bc he harnesses an element of creation and nya bc her element knows no bounds. like the others, their powers have always been with them, even before they knew it. kai always held warmth and searing heat in his hands only tempered by shoving or punching someone, and nya always moved fluidly- their neigbhors always called nya a fish out of water - her tember knew no bounds, neither did her beauty.

what if that's why lloyd is the first person to harness his element? of course, the prophecy always said that "a ninja who would rise above all others and become the savior of ninjago." but everyone, even wu, thought it would be one of the others, someone who harnessed one of the elements of creation already- not some kid who just so happened to be the grandson of the first spinjitzu master-

in hindsight, it makes more sense than it should. lloyd has the empthay of a human child and the power of a god- the best of both worlds, some may say. his power in itself is unstable- it's hard to control unless you've been doing it your entire life.

as lloyd grew stronger, the others did too. their powers grew as their parents grew weaker, just so they'd be ready for when lloyd became of age- when it was time for him to defeat the dark lord. when lloyd skipped up a few years because of the tommorow's tea the ninja felt a rush of their power come forth- it was odd and weird and they couldn't explain why- they thought they already unlocked all of it when achieving their true potentials, but appearently not.

as much as the elements of creation is embedded into each of it's user, it's also engraved into lloyd. when he gets weak, so do their powers. as they grew and got older, it become unnoticeable, they all had gotten better control over their powers, over when and when not to use them.

lloyd isn't meant to pass down his power- not ever. it's too much for a child- a human one, at least. and if fallen into a god's soul, it would make them power-crazed. his generation may very well be the last of the elements of creation- at least to the power that they hold. he's seen scrolls that wu has written, documenting his experience with them, and how they're unlike their parents- more powerful than them- at least from when they're young.

maybe their powers aren't meant to be passed on, any of theirs.

maybe it's for selfish reasons or selfless.

maybe they'll end up becoming oxidized statues- only living on in stories, their powers extravaganted.

or maybe they'll outlive everyone.

[chebyshevptera]

destinyswap is the reason i followed you please do post more of it <333 (please take this as encouragement rather than demands)

AUWGWJRHWJS REALLYYYY???🥺🥺

ok❤️ yay❤️ …

anon i hope u don’t mind me using ur ask to yap abt the basics of the ninja destinyswap . um gonna put their general info under cut :D + show their headshots!! (they r just little colored doodles, but u know<3)

sorry in advance, but this is super long…

first and foremost , nya , the silly, my girl, the only thing ever !! nya is the green ninja and the elemental master of energy . her destiny was discovered shortly after she was rescued from the skulkin . after the ninja collected all of the golden weapons and saved her, they all went in for a group hug, with their tools still in their hands, and the weapons reacted to her presence , solidifying the fact that she was the chosen one .

so nya, alongside her brother, began training with the other ninja under sensei garmadon . nya is still talented and still a perfectionist , and with the weight of the world on her shoulders, she is incredibly stressed and anxious most of the time . although she attempts to put on a calm front , it’s easy to see through her facade . she doesn’t like being bound to this prophecy, but she will still do her best to fulfill it and protect ninjago , whatever it takes

she cut her hair because of sensory issues. her mask didn’t agree with her. also, the element that comes easiest to her is lightning. it comforts her.

-

kai, the blue ninja, is the elemental master of lightning , hotheaded and reactive as he can be . he harbors some envy towards his sister for her status as the green ninja, even though he knows that it isn’t her fault. kai is the first one to master spinjitzu , and to unlock his golden weapon’s vehicle . he’s a very fast learner and an incredibly powerful opponent .

even without his envy , kai still dislikes the fact that nya is the green ninja . he has tried very hard to protect her, only for destiny to decide that she must be at the front when the time to face evil arises . he trains exceptionally hard with his element to be at her side and protect her when that time comes .

he is, technically, the second oldest on the team .

-

lloyd is the master of fire , taking after his mother , misako, the previous elemental master of fire . he has trained all his life under his father’s guidance . his elemental knowledge and history with training , combined with his oni and dragon heritage (which he was able to embrace) , make him the strongest on the team without question, despite being the youngest.

he is well educated and very clever , and sometimes speaks like an old person . lloyd still mischievous and silly , but has no reason to be resentful as a child . rather , he is stressed out at the thought of having to fight his uncle , who he cares so deeply about .

-

morro is the elemental master of ice. he was taken in by garmadon and misako years before the ninja team was properly formed, and has since developed a sort of brotherly bond with lloyd. also , as the oldest member of the team , he feels quite responsible for the others .

he is the leader, the most rational , and calmest under pressure , but he has quite an attitude . he can be snarky and sarcastic , though rarely with malice . he is technically the second most capable on the team, having trained longer than the others , though not longer than lloyd .

he is much more skilled in melee combat , preferring it over long ranged attacks, so he utilizes this with his shurikens of ice. eventually, he will perfect the skill of creating gauntlets with his element.

-

zane is the black ninja and the elemental master of earth, having been granted this element by the previous master of earth before his passing . like his element , he is strong , solid, and reliable , and he tries to keep everyone, even morro, grounded.

already knowing the truth of past before he joins the ninja , he frequently doubts his humanity and opts to keep his android heritage a secret from his teammates , for now .

he’s still a chef , and he’s still their resident walking encyclopedia … thankfully, because the others can be pretty dumb.

-

prior to joining the ninja, jay is a celebrity , no longer simply known as the son of cliff gordon , but as his own successful individual. he acts, he sings, and he dances, all with charm and enthusiasm that made him rise to fame . he hides a lot of himself from the camera , covering up his freckles and the circles under his eyes, and wearing contacts to make his eyes less unique . jay hates fame. he wants to be an artist , free from the spotlight, with the ability to be himself.

upon joining, jay is the primary engineer for the ninja. he lacks elemental abilities , but he is almost scarily intelligent and creative, and the ninja heavily rely on his abilities, which is something that makes jay quite happy , even if his repressed and snippy personality refuse to let him admit it. as he continues to spend time with the ninja, he allows himself to open up more, and resulting in his behavior being much kinder.

his mother was the previous master of water.

-

(and here’s the last silly for you guys. nothing to say about him for now ❤️)

[lightning-and-dragons]

Jay as Samurai X

This AU has been on my mind for longer than a day so I figured I would post about it lol.

Jay Walker never becomes a ninja. Jay's parents ended up taking him to an orphanage instead of the junkyard, and Sensei Wu, no matter how long he searches, cannot find him. So, he must continue and find the other ninja without him.

Sensei Wu recruits the others, and tells Nya immediately that she's the Master of Water. Cole, Kai, Nya, and Zane soon become the protectors of Ninjago.

Jay begins working at a mechanics shop, feeling an urge to build vehicles and tech, an urge that he couldn't explain. After a while, he begins to notice how light bulbs break around him, how he has a strange connection to the lightning in the sky, and how he, and sometimes others around him, get shocked with electricity without any cause. It doesn't take him long to find out that he's the son of the previous elemental Master of Lightning, through a bit of digging online, discovering that she had a son that she had given up at the exact same time Jay was admitted into the orphanage.

But he's scared of what it means. He's scared of the lightning. He's not a hero. He's not like the Ninjas that save Ninjago every week. He's just a guy that didn't have friends. Who could barely afford to live in the city. Who had no family. He couldn't use his powers to do the good that they did. He would only mess things up if he got involved, that he knew.

He couldn't use his powers at all. He knew how dangerous lightning could be, and Jay couldn't control it. He didn't know how. And he didn't want to hurt anyone.

He buys a vengestone bracelet not long after this discovery, knowing that the stone dulls elemental powers, wearing it every day and every night, needing to hide the part of him that scared him, needing protect others from the lightning he possessed. It made a dull pain throb in his body, but it was worth it.

But, after Ninjago City is nearly destroyed by the Great Devourer, a new girl comes and uses the mechanics shop that Jay works in. Nya was beautiful, and Jay connects with her immediately. She seems to understand him in a way no one else has before, and for the first time in his life, Jay doesn't feel alone. They became friends very quickly, and when Jay asked her out on a date, she doesn't say no.

It doesn't take her long to tell him that she's the Water Ninja. Jay can't help but be shocked. He thought that the Ninja were people who were powerful, who were perfect, spending all of their time protecting others, devoting every second to catching the bad guys. He thought that they didn't bother doing things regular people did, that they didn't make any mistakes.

But Nya was exactly like him. Sure, she did save the world every so often, she was strong, but she also loved building vehicles, she loved ice cream, and laughed at all his jokes. She sometimes crossed a few wrong wires, she had bad hair days, and she had a bit of a temper, but she was still a ninja. She was a hero, but she was a person, too. She wasn't an all powerful being Jay was scared of, he could even relate to her. She was human, she made mistakes, and something about that made Jay relieved.

She taught him that the Ninja weren't all powerful beings who were above regular people. They were just like him. She taught him that anyone, whether they had powers or not, could be heroes, too.

Jay was inspired by that. But he wasn't strong enough to take off the vengestone bracelet yet, not sure enough of his own abilities and control to let his powers be free.

He wouldn't let that stop him, though.

It didn't take him long to build his mech, the Samurai X suit, a suit of armor that let him save others, let him help Nya, without risking letting his lightning be free.

And he loved it. He loved saving others, he loved the tech he uses, and he loved proving that he didn't need his powers to be a hero. He didn't need to be anyone more than who he already was.

Nya knows it's him right away. The other Ninja fight to find out who the Samurai X was, desperate to know who was beating them to their fights, but she kept silent. A few months in, Jay reveals his identity, and Nya eagerly introduces him to the other Ninja, so thankful that the man she loved had become a hero, too, and found the strength to finally tell her.

Sensei Wu catches on to the bracelet Jay wears right away, and confronts him about it, knowing that this was the boy he had been looking for for years. And soon Jay is torn between hiding his powers from the people he could now call his friends, continuing to be Samurai X, a hero that he was proud of being, or he could take off the vengestone. He could learn how to use the lightning that he was born with, the lightning that he was terrified of, for good, using it like Nya used her water, with control and kindness.

Jay doesn't know if he's strong enough to. Jay doesn't know if he's ready to let the lightning be free. But he also doesn't know if he's ready to pass up a chance to understand what he could do if he finally let his fears fall away.

[photo1030]

Leather and Lace - Chapter 25: As The Wicked Snow Begins to Thaw

Summary:  The drama continues up in Colter, pushing Arthur to his breaking point. 

*Some of the dialogue in this chapter is not mine but from the game. I’ve also added elements to the original storyline to meld with my own. This is the longest chapter I've written yet at 19K+! It's long but alot of good stuff goin' on!

Warnings: 18+ please. Minors - DNI; NSFW

*This fantastic image comes from @sixgunluvr

Special thank you, as always, to @appalachiancowboy99 for being my cheerleader and beta-reader.

Previous Chapter / Next Chapter

Arthur ambles over to Buck, tucking his scarred chin into the fur lining of his heavy blue coat as he walks alongside Dutch out into the blistering cold wind of the Grizzlies. The outlaw flexes his stiff fingers as he listens to Dutch drone on and on about his plan and what they need to do. And the first thing on the gang leader's list is to go looking for Colm O’Driscoll.

“You sure that’s a good idea?” huffs Arthur, his breath frosting in the air in front of his red nose as they stand by the horses, waiting for the others to join them. “Folks here been through enough lately. I know you hate him, Dutch.”

Dutch slices his hand emphatically through the air. “He’s here for us,” he avows resolutely with a nod.

A quiet snort of derision quips out of Arthur’s throat. “I doubt that,” he murmurs, cupping his gloved hands to his lips to blow warm air into them.

Dutch’s eyebrows turn down in irritation as he casts his equally chilly gaze onto Arthur. “No, you just doubt me.” His tone is calm enough, but the challenge is right there, clear as day as he passive-aggressively adjusts his horse’s saddle.

Arthur’s lips pull inward as he mulls over his answer, painfully aware of the line Dutch believes he has crossed. “I would never doubt you, just that you always say revenge is a luxury we can’t afford, Dutch.”

“This ain’t revenge, Arthur. This is the right call. This is about more than revenge and business of long ago. They were talking about trains and detonators in that cabin.” Of course, Dutch is referring to the O’Driscoll’s that had attacked Mrs. Adler and her husband. “Colm always had good information.”

“And you think now is the right time to hit a train?” Arthur rubs Buck’s neck briefly before he pulls himself up into his saddle as the others have made their way over to the hitching post. 

“Now, you might fancy living on deer piss and rabbit shit,” chuckles Dutch,  “but I’m getting too old for that life.” And Dutch nudges his horse out of camp, with Arthur, Bill, Micah, Lenny, and Javier in tow. 

They proceed to push their way southwest, heading towards the frozen lake that sits at the base of these Siberian-like mountains. The horses' hooves plunge deeper into the powdery snow, causing them to stumble here and there as they move along. But these animals are used to the hardship of their masters. Despite extreme heat and polar cold, the jarring sound of bullets raining down and the lightning speed of the getaway, the gang’s horses are an extension of the gang itself, another collection of members, if you will. They are sure of foot and each man would trust their horse with his life.  

Scanning the thick blanket of white as they travel, the gang eventually comes upon horse tracks in the snow and they begin to track them along the river. 

“I know you don’t think much of my ideas recently, but this is the right move,” Dutch preaches to Arthur as he reaches down to run his fingers over the Count’s neck in reassurance to urge the horse on through the heavy, wet snow.

“Alright,” Arthur agrees tiredly. “You know I always got your back, Dutch.” And he desperately tries to resist a pouty groan from escaping his lips. 

“I learned a long time ago, you hit Colm O'Driscoll, you wait for him, and people you love will die.” Dutch’s voice carries that hint of seething fury that most people cringe from when they hear it, lest they draw his ire. 

“This feud between you two needs to be put to an end,” insists Arthur. 

“It will be,” assures Dutch, waving his hand decisively. “Some things I can forgive, some things I can forget. What he did to Annabelle…” His speech halts for a moment as a painful lump catches in his throat for a moment at the thought of his beloved. “I can’t do neither.” Dutch’s dark eyes burn like coals as his gaze turns forward into the white expanse ahead of them.  

“You killed his brother, Dutch,” Arthur reminds him.

“Yes, I did. And I hope the bastards will be reunited soon enough. And that is how this’ll end.”

But suddenly, Dutch’s keen eyes pick up a smoke trail in the distance. Making the educated guess that this is the elusive O’Driscoll camp, they carefully make their way in that direction. And sure enough, they have found what they were looking for. 

The rivalry gang has made its nest in what appears to be another mining town that neighbors their own. And although it sits along the river’s edge, it is situated at the bottom of a ridge line. Idiots. It makes them sitting ducks for anyone to find them. 

The Van Der Linde men assess the makeshift camp, determining targets and escape routes before splitting up to encircle the O’Driscoll camp. Dutch and Arthur scan the raggedy group of men at the bottom of the hill through binoculars, the cold metal biting into their faces as they watch with interest. And suddenly, Colm himself comes into view. After observing them for a bit, Arthur and Dutch watch Colm ride off in an obvious disgruntled huff. 

“He don’t look too happy. Should we go after him?” suggests Arthur, looking over his shoulder to Dutch, knowing full well how much his friend is itching to get his hands on this wretched bastard.

“No, Colm can wait. Best to get some of them outta there.” He lifts his chin towards the broken-down village. “Our needs right now are supplies and equipment. A way outta here,” says Dutch in a moment of clarity. “Everything else can wait, including Colm.”

The group of men proceed to carefully make their way down towards the O’Driscoll camp. The whole exercise is done and over within twenty minutes. Colm may have the numbers in his gang, but Dutch’s boys can shoot with lethal speed and accuracy, which has earned them the deadly reputation that they have. The Van der Linde gang shoots up the little camp with little effort despite being outnumbered, bodies dropping into the snow in bloody heaps. 

Once the echo of gunfire ceases to ricochet off the landscape, the boys scavenge the bodies for what they can find, taking pocket watches and other useful trinkets to sell once they leave this area. They begin to tear the run-down place apart trying to find anything about this train that’s coming. And Arthur finds a large amount of dynamite and detonators collected inside one of the buildings. 

Bill comes in behind Arthur to inspect the crates that have caught the outlaw’s attention. His bear-paw reaches past Arthur and into the box to pick up a bundle of the deadly material, flipping it over to examine it. 

“What do ya think, Bill? Looks good?” Arthur watches as Bill assesses the material, his brows furrowed as if in deep thought.

“Yeah, looks fine,” the burly man finally confirms as he scans the rest of the box. “Smells good. I think we got ourselves a nice little score here.” A prideful smirk breaks across Bill’s face as he carefully sets the lid back upon the crate. 

“Let’s keep looking around,” insists Dutch, shifting his weight in the cold as he stands outside watching his men drift from building to building. “If the dynamite is here, they probably have more around that could be useful.”

And oh how right Dutch is. As they continue their search of the small buildings, Micah makes his way over to Dutch, offering up a rolled up scroll.

“Found this on one of “em, Boss.” Micah hands the paperwork to Dutch, watching expectantly as his leader unrolls it to examine the contents.

A spark of gratification flickers within Dutch’s piercing eyes. “Interesting. This is something about the train they was gonna rob.” 

As it turns out, these are the plans for a train belonging to Mr. Leviticus Cornwall, one of the largest business magnates in the country. He is a prominent and very rich man, rivaling the likes of Cornelius Vanderbilt and Andrew Carnegie. Dutch lets out a triumphant laugh as he carefully rolls the paper into his hands. It is like a perfectly laid out gift for the Van Der Linde gang: the plans, the dynamite, the ammo. Everything they need to rob this coming train.  

“Let’s mount up and head back to camp,” announces Dutch, a smug smile plastered on his face from ear to ear. “I’m proud of you boys! Not a man down!”

“Not bad for some starvin’ down and outs,” Arthur mutters, pleased to finally be heading back to camp and essentially back to you. The last few weeks have been so hard, a constant strain on your relationship. And despite the bickering between you two lately, there is still no place he’d rather be than out of this god forsaken cold and wrapped up in your arms.

“They can pummel us all they like,” declares Dutch. “But we always get back up. That’s who we are. Outlaws for life, fellers.” The words of encouragement elicit hoots and hollers from the other men, excited to see something finally going their way for once. 

But despite the prospect of a large score, something sits uneasily in Arthur’s gut as he leads Buck back towards your camp. Arthur’s mind immediately flashes to you and your safety as the gravity of the situation becomes all too clear to him now. It's one thing to live an outlaw life, but another to deliberately put you in danger because of it. 

Arthur hadn’t thought of Annabelle in quite some time, the subject being too sore a subject. But having Dutch bring her name up again jolts Arthur’s memory back to life. The vivid and gruesome images of her death still sit in the farthest reaches of Arthur’s mind, images of Colm’s cruelty flashing clear as day. And after what the O’Driscoll’s did to Annabelle, it makes Arthur’s stomach turn sour that it could very well happen to you, as well. And heaven help the entire world if such a thing were to ever happen to you. 

“Colm ain’t gonna like this,” he warns Dutch, as they head back up the pass to head home.  “Especially if we rob this train, too. He’ll come after us.” 

“Of course he will, just like all the rest,” smirks Dutch. “But we’ll just always stay one step ahead, always know where they are before they know where we are.” 

Dutch’s arrogance is always nothing short of astounding. But then again, it is that arrogance, that confidence that he carries, that has kept the notorious outlaw’s neck out of the lawman’s noose all these years.

The boys head back, digging in to make haste to get out of the cold when they see someone running off through the trees up ahead. 

“Wasn’t that guy at the camp?” Dutch shouts over the howling wind to Arthur.

“Yeah, I think so,” sighs Arthur as he turns Buck off to the right. “Leave him to me.”

“Ok, make your way back to camp,” directs Dutch. “And bring him alive. He could be useful.”

Arthur takes off like a bat out of hell through the snow. The sunlight is quickly fading and casts him and Buck in an ominous red and orange backlight, Buck’s breath heaving out of his nostrils in clouds, making them look like one of the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse as Arthur chases down the lone rider who begins to dart back and forth in a sad attempt to lose his stalker. 

“Leave me alone!” hollers the man, his voice cracking in terror of the large rider mercilessly barreling down on him. 

As soon as he is close enough, Arthur’s arm shoots out from his body with a rope, dropping a lasso around the fleeing man and abruptly yanking him from the skittish horse to drop him face first in the snow with an ungraceful thud. 

“You don’t need to do this!” he wails, spitting out clumps of snow from his freezing lips as he turns to see Arthur looming over him. 

“You’re coming with me,” says Arthur coldly. And he proceeds to hogtie the O’Driscoll and toss him onto Buck’s rump like a deer carcass.

Arthur climbs back into the saddle, giving a quick glance over his shoulder at the sad sight  behind him. “What’s your name, boy?”

“Kieran Duffy.”

“Well, Kieran Duffy, I ain’t gonna lie, this is a real bad day for you.” He nudges his spurs into Buck’s side and the two head out back to camp.

Mr. Duffy tries to turn his head to see the fearsome rider, panic settling deeper and deeper with each step the large horse takes. “Where are you taking me?”

“Somewhere you ain’t gonna like.”

“Why? What are you gonna do?”

“Something you ain’t gonna like. So I suggest you save your breath for screaming.” And Mr. Duffy is not sure what is worse, what the rider is saying to him or how he is saying it, as Arthur’s voice is cold and unfeeling as if this were nothing more than a Sunday chore. 

“No, please! They didn’t tell me nothing!” The poor man sputters his pleas to Arthur with eyes wide and full of fear, but all they do is irritate his captor even more. 

Arthur pitches a hard glare over his shoulder again. “You better shut your mouth, you little shit, or I will shut it for you.”

“I don’t know nothin’! Honest! I don’t want to die!”

“Are you testing me? What did I just say? Because I will break every bone in your body.”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry!”

“Not one more goddamn word. Am I clear?”

“Okay, okay!”

“That’s two bones right there.”

Luckily, this Kieran Duffy is smart enough to close his mouth for the rest of the ride and the banter ceases, as Arthur’s patience is just about to its end. And they eventually make it to camp by nightfall, the lanterns illuminating their refuge in the distance. 

“Alight, here we are. Let’s introduce you to the boys,” announces Arthur as he pulls Buck to a halt at the hitching post. 

“Don’t hurt me, please!” sobs Kieran, as his trembling body is hauled over Arthur’s broad shoulder like a sack of flour. 

“Oh, don’t worry. They’re real nice,” snarks Arthur, tossing the man down in the snow at Dutch’s feet. 

“Uncle, Mr. Williamson, tie this maggot up somewhere,” hollers Dutch. The two men quickly grab Mr. Duffy, hauling him to his feet to stand face to face before the gang leader. 

“I got a saying, my friend.” Dutch’s voice is as smooth as the finest Tennessee whiskey. “We shoot fellers as need shooting, save fellers as need saving, and feed ‘em as need feedin’. We’re gonna find out what you need.”

“I ain’t no O'Driscoll!,” screams Kieran in a panic, his feet spasmodically kicking out from under him as he is whisked away by Uncle and Bill, each with a painful grip on his thin arms. “I hate that feller!”

With today’s adventure now coming to an end, Dutch turns to his second in command. “Well done, Arthur.”

Arthur gives a short appreciative nod. “Sorry we didn’t get Colm.”

“It’s alright. Time enough for that. We gotta see about hitting this train.” The devil’s grin dances along Dutch’s dark features before he disappears into the main building in search of a warm fire and Hosea to begin the next phase of his plan. 

Finally finding himself alone in the quiet, Arthur moves to one of the benches to sit a spell to rest his sore and exhausted body. 

Upon hearing the commotion of the men returning to camp, you come to stand in the doorway of the main cabin and watch Arthur from across the yard, his broad frame looking even more hulking bundled up in his blue winter coat as he gets this hostage that they brought back situated. The wet snow clings to him, just like everyone and everything else in this world. And yet, he shrugs it off as if it were nothing. Because he doesn’t have time for misgivings. People are counting on him.

Everything about Arthur Morgan is bigger than the world. His stature stands out against the white expanse that engulfs him. The way he carries himself with such knowing and capability compared to the others, it’s so natural as if he doesn’t know how else to be. Everything about him is greater to you: his strength, his loyalty, his heart. But with that comes the flip to the same coin. The fists land harder, the bullets ring more often, and the bounties on his head keep stacking up. The pressure, the responsibility, they also are greater for him than for anyone else. It’s a good thing his back is broad and shoulders strong, for the weight of the world sits upon him. 

Since you’ve arrived here in this decrepit mining town, you have been working with Mr. Pearson to try to create meals to sustain everyone. But supplies are low due to your hastened departure from Blackwater and what you do have available is not the best quality, either. Rations are becoming more meager as the larder continues to deplete. 

You are quick to note how tired Arthur looks, even from across the yard. He’s been out there too long, doing too much, in your opinion. You currently have two bowls of watery soup in your hands and looking down at them, you discreetly pour one bowl into the other, doubling its paltry contents and set the empty bowl aside. 

When Arthur finally sits still long enough, you make your way over to him, treading lightly as you can see he’s still carrying his foul mood. 

“Hey you,” you call softly. 

His tired eyes lift at the sound of your voice and the tension instantly drains away from his face as he floats you an exhausted grin as he leans back into the rough wooden siding of the building. “Hey, there’s my girl. How you doin’, Sweetheart?”

“I’m alright. Especially now that you’re back. Here, I brought you something to eat.” You hand him the soup bowl as you sit down next to him. “It’s not much, but it’ll put something in your belly.” 

He gives you a grateful nod as he carefully takes the bowl with his cold fingers. He brings it up to his face for a quick sniff, before taking the spoon and laddeling some of the soup into his mouth. A small smile of relief dusts your features as you watch him eat, a few droplets of broth catching on his frosted beard. 

But Arthur’s brow knits when he notices that you do not have a bowl of your own. “Aren’t you eating anything?”

“I already had a bit when I was cooking.” You try to assure him, but he knows you too well and can see right through you.

An exasperated sigh pushes through his cold nose as he tries to shove the bowl back into your hands. “I ain’t doin’ this.”

You shoot straight up as if a string is pulling your spine. “Arthur-”

“I ain’t takin’ food out of your mouth for myself, Y/N,” he argues. “Ain’t happenin’.” 

“You need it, Arthur.” You push the bowl back into his chest in annoyance. 

“Y/N-”

“Arthur, I swear to god, I’ll dump this in the snow! Now just stop your foolishness and eat the damn soup.”

He doesn’t argue back when your eyes flash at him. He just hangs his head, his lips pulled inward as he wrestles with his internal demons. 

“If we are going to survive this mess, Arthur, we need you strong and with your wits about you.” Your hand lands on his forearm as your tone softens now, exposing your concern. “Because I don’t know if anyone else can do it. So, please. Just eat.” 

He lifts his guilt-ridden eyes to meet yours as he looks into your beautiful face. “I can’t be saving everyone else if I’m worried about you, though,” he pouts. “We need you too, you know.” 

“I’m alright, I promise. Does it look like I’m starving?” you jest sarcastically as you motion to yourself with a mocking chuckle. But all it does is set him off again. 

“Don’t do that. I hate when you do that,” he gripes bitterly.

“Do what?”

“Tear yourself down like that. You’re worth the whole lot of us and then some. Don’t you ever forget that.” 

You feel your cheeks heat up as a deep sigh escapes you. “I wish you would stop putting me on a damn pedestal all the time,” you mutter as you avoid his stare. 

Arthur drops the spoon into the bowl with a loud exasperated huff as the last of his patience has finally been expended. “Listen, don’t give me shit for tryin’ to treat you right. If I had any damn sense at all, I’d get you outta here now, tonight. You’re the only damn good thing I got right now, so will you just let me have this? Please?” 

His sapphire eyes burn bright and intense. He is ever intolerant of bullshit. Never has the time for it. 

You avert your eyes to your boots, noting how the seams are starting to split, your hands fidgeting and roll over each other.

“I’m hungry but I’m not starving,” you admit quietly, sheepishly looking at him out of the corner of your eye.

“I need you to be honest with me, Y/N.” Arthur takes your chin with his thumb and forefinger, making you look him in the eye. He is starting to speak louder and faster now, as he quickly shifts from exhaustion to agitation. “No hiding shit. If you’re in a bad way, you better tell me. Because if anything ever happens to you-”

“I will, Arthur. I promise.” You swiftly place your hands along his chest to quiet him lest he gets worked up yet again. “I’ll tell you anything you need to know.” 

And with silent acceptance, Arthur finishes his soup as you lean into his side, your head gently laying against his shoulder as he eats. 

You stare out into the purple sky as the last shadows of the sun expire for the day, pulling the moon and the stars in their wake behind them. The temperature continues to dip, causing a shiver to run the length of your body as you snuggle in closer to Arthur. And yet, neither of you dare to move and break the spell of contentment that you have found for this fleeting moment. The two of you may be disconnected, but you’re not alone. Not yet, anyway. 

____________________________________

“It's been a bad few weeks. And Dutch being Dutch, he’s busy making plans and Dutch being Dutch, those plans involve robberies and dreams.”

The cabin where John is resting is cold and dark. You’ve kept the moth-eaten curtains drawn over the filthy windows to ward off the drafts as well as keep the sunlight to a minimum. Because of the damage to John's eye from the wolf attack, you are trying to avoid any strain to the good socket as much as possible. 

The days here in Colter keep dragging on, and while John was in bad shape when Arthur and Javier found him, he has managed to recover quite well, considering the pitiful circumstances. But of course, Arthur attributes that to you, muttering how John is “damn lucky you’re here”. But you are not 100% sure you agree. You’ve already lost Davey and Jenny, a fact that still eats at your gut more than the hunger. Which is why you are almost obsessively watching over John, making sure his many wounds are clean and stitched, his bandages dry, and is clear of fever. You try to keep him warm and rested with someone always sitting vigil in case he should take a turn for the worse. 

Rev. Swanson leans back from John’s pale and trembling body, tucking the syringe back into its case as you stand over them, carefully observing the administration. You are not happy with giving John morphine, the horrible substance being too unpredictable. But given his condition, it will help to alleviate John’s jittery nerves as well as ease his pain. John softly whimpers as the elixir pushes through his veins, rolling his bandaged head to the side, careful to avoid pushing on his damaged eye. 

“Thought you were reading him his last rites.” Arthur’s voice resonates into the room as he saunters in to check on everyone. You glance over your shoulder at the sound of his presence, filling you with both a mixture of relief to see his face, yet apprehension at the growing tension between him and John. “Now I see you’re introducing him to your other passion.” He points at the small black case clutched in Swanson’s hand.

“I’ll mind you to show me some respect, Mr. Morgan,” snaps the Reverend, his eyes narrowing at the hulking man as he stands up and adjusts his coat to keep warm.

“Mind away, Reverend,” Arthur smirks dismissively, waving him off as the man exits the room in a mild distemper. Arthur catches your eye and gives you a nod as he casually walks over to the bed where John lays sprawled out under threadbare blankets. “You’re still here, then?” he snarks, tilting his head with a condescending scowl. “Maybe I should scratch myself and feign a limp?”

Mary-Beth stops wrapping up the last of the bandages she used to help you redress John’s wounds and shoves her hands into her lap in frustration, snapping her head towards Arthur.  “Ain’t you got nothing better to do, Arthur? Whatever the beef is between you two, now ain’t the time.” 

But John seems to pay no mind to Arthur’s jeering. He’s used to it by now after all these years. “I owe you,” sighs John as he peers up at Arthur with his good eye. 

“And you’ll pay me. But, for now, just rest.” Arthur taps your elbow and nods over his shoulder, indicating a private conversation is requested. You turn to follow him and take a few steps back from the bed, leaving Mary-Beth to finish cleaning up.

“How is he?” Arthur asks, his voice low as he leans in close to you, a fleck of genuine concern skipping over his face. 

“I think he’ll survive unless he throws a fever or something like that,” you confirm, reassuring yourself as well as Arthur as you rub your arm in an attempt at self-soothing. “He’ll probably lose some of his sight in that eye, though.”

A whimsical half grin cracks Arthur’s bearded face. “You only need one eye to shoot with.” His response results in your humorless laugh in return.

But the conversation is interrupted when Dutch abruptly pushes his way into the cabin. “Ah, Arthur, there you are! I’ve been looking for you! I think it’s time for the train.”

The talk of another job sparks John’s interest, flooding his weak body with an energy he hasn’t had in a few days. He manages to roll himself up on his elbow, eager to join the conversation. “Want me to come, Dutch?” 

A look of surprise graces Dutch’s dark features for a moment. “Of course I do, John, but look at you.” 

“I was always ugly, Dutch. It’s just a scratch.” John shakes his head as he tries to will his broken body to sit up. 

“Lie still, son”. Dutch sits down next to the bed and gently pushes John’s shoulder to ease him back down onto the thin mattress.

Before you can even interject with your own opinion about John even thinking of leaving that bed let alone robbing a train, the cabin door opens yet again as Abigail and Jack walk through. The woman walks with an agitation in her step, her expression closed-up and hard to read as she wrestles with her constant worry for John versus her anger at his behavior. 

“The boy wanted to see you, John.” Abigail stands with her chin lifted in annoyance as Jack shifts warily behind his mother, peering his little face around her hip to see his father on the bed. The shock of John’s bloodied face resonates into Jack’s view and he quickly casts his eyes away. 

“Well, he’s seen me now. Or what’s left of me,” sighs John. “How ‘bout you?”

“Guess I was hoping to see a corpse,” she bites back harshly.

“Bide your time, you’ll see plenty of ‘em.”

But his response sets her off yet again. She was hoping that in his time of weakness, John would show a little compassion and comfort towards his son, to let him know that he appreciates the boy’s concern. But once again, John’s dismissal of little Jack is like a red-hot poker in Abigail's heart.  “You’re a rotten man, John Marston,” she hisses as she wraps her arm around Jack to usher him away.

“He’s an idiot, Abigail, we all know it,” Dutch calls after her as she marches out of the cold cabin.

The sight of disappointment on Jack’s red cheeks is finally your breaking point. “You know, John Marston, I really wish you’d put a little more effort into your relationship with them.” You could stab a deer with the look of daggers you are shooting him right now. 

But the young outlaw only huffs angrily at you. “And I really wish people would mind their own goddamn business.”

“Is that so?” Your hands plant firmly onto your hips as you stride over to the bed, bending over him with a cold and bitter glower. “Well, if people were minding their own business, you’d still be out there on that damn ledge, a frozen carcass for the scavengers to pick at. Abigail is the one who insisted they go out to find you, you know. Maybe keep that in mind.” You point your finger inches from his face.

When John gives you nothing but a scowl in reply, you roll your eyes and turn on your heel to go after Abigail, slamming the door behind you. 

“You really are a stubborn ass, you know that, Marston?” Arthur drags his hand over his tired face. 

“Fuck you, Morgan. Don’t you start. You’re one to talk.”

“Excuse me?” Arthur’s eyebrows shoot up to his hairline at the challenge. 

But John locks his good eye with Arthur’s, not afraid to back down. Say what you will about John, but he’s been holding his own with Arthur since he was a kid. “You ain’t got no right to lecture me on being stubborn. I’ve seen how you’ve been pickin’ at Y/N since we left Blackwater. You ain’t no model citizen. Get off your damn high horse.”

The accusation brings Arthur’s shoulders back, squaring up and ready for a fight. “Now, you look here-”

“Alright, that’s enough,” barks Dutch, cutting this off before it escalates out of hand. “Arthur, can’t you see the man is down? Leave him be, for Christ’s sake.” 

Outside the dingy cabin, you rush to catch up to Abigail. “Abigail, wait!” Your hand lands on her trembling shoulder, her eyes welling with tears of frustration and concern as you look into her face. “John will be okay, try not to worry.”

“Oh, I am not concerning myself with that fool right now!” Her eyes flash as her body sways back and forth with nervous energy. “It’s Jack I’m worried about.”

“Jack?”

“Yes, Y/N.” Her gaze darts over to land on the little boy who has now wandered aimlessly over towards Mr. Pearson to see what he is cooking for the day.  “What if…what if this is all too much for him? What if this running and starving and seeing his daddy ripped to pieces messes him up?” Abigail shakes her head as the tears start to break free from her lashes and slowly streak her cold face. 

“He’ll be okay, Abigail.” You rub your hand along her arm and give her a warm smile. “Jack’s a strong boy. He’s got his momma’s smarts and his daddy’s resilience.”

“You think so?” she sniffles.

“Listen, stars shine their brightest when surrounded by the darkness, Abigail. And Jack is the brightest of us, yet. He’ll be okay.” 

Abigail takes a long, shuddered breath as she collects herself. “I’m sorry, YN. It’s just…John makes me crazy! What do I do? How can I get him to treat us better?”

Her question breaks your heart. Despite the ever-present resentment she may show John, it is clear she is still deeply in love with the man, whether he accepts that love or not. “You can’t make a man treat you right. But you can sure as hell make him wish he did.” 

“How the hell did I ever give my heart to him?” she moans with a watery eye-roll, her lips quivering slightly.  

“The heart wants what it wants, Abigail. Can't do nothing about it,” you chuckle softly. “And besides, he’s awfully cute when he’s not being a total jack-ass.” 

“Yeah, but Arthur’s not like that.” 

“Oh, Arthur can be a total jack-ass, trust me,” you nod. “But I think John acts this way because he doesn’t know what he’s supposed to do. So he figures by not doing anything, he won’t screw it up. And then the shit is on you if it goes wrong, not him. He didn’t have good parents to teach him properly.”

“But Dutch and Hosea raised him, same as Arthur.” 

“True,” you admit, “But, Arthur had his momma for a bit. John did not. And I think that made a big difference. Unfortunately, you had men raising men. So don’t be surprised when you get an idiot as the outcome.”

A quick cackle bursts from Abigail at your comment before she covers her mouth, looking at you with playful disbelief. 

“Come on, let’s go inside and see if Ms. Grimshaw has any of that horribly bitter coffee left on the stove.” You loop your arm through Abigail’s to head off to the main cabin together. But when you see Dutch and Arthur pushing out of the small cabin again, you pause to see what’s happening now. “Go on ahead, Abigail. I’ll be right behind you.” You smile as you usher her towards the door. 

“Gentleman! Now is the time!” Dutch declares to everyone within earshot with his arms spread wide to his sides like the messiah. “Bill! Ride ahead and set the charge at the water tower, just before the tunnel.”

“Ain’t a problem!” agrees Bill as he sprints to the barn to collect the dynamite and detonators that he and Arthur found at the O’Driscoll camp. 

“Why are we doing this?” asks Hosea in exasperation as he approaches Dutch, his labored breath whirling in the cold air. “Weather is breaking, we should leave. I thought we was lying low?”

A measured puff of air pushes out of Dutch’s nose. “What do you want from me, Hosea? We’re lying low but not living. We need money and all of ours is in Blackwater. You fancy you want to head back there?”

“No.” Hosea pauses for a moment, his gaze falling to the snow before skipping back up to Dutch. “I ain’t trying to undermine you, Dutch. I just don’t want anymore people dying, is all. Just want to stick to the plan. Lie low and head back west.” This is a comment that grabs your attention as you stand off to the side witnessing this whole discussion. 

“What choice have we got?” Dutch says simply, his hands laid out in expectation.

“Leviticus Cornwall is no joke, Dutch.” Hosea’s tone turns serious and dark, carrying the concern well-earned of a man of his years.

“Well, sounds to me like he’s got more than enough.” Dutch gives his old friend that mischievous look that Hosea knows all too well before turning to address the gang once more. “Gentleman! Let’s all go and make something of ourselves! Get your horses ready, we have a train to rob!” And the men scatter to their respective tasks, an air of excitement amongst them as they move. But Hosea and Arthur share a quick look of doubt between them before Arthur heads over to his horse. 

Shock and dismay rocks you to your core as you stand in the snow listening to the three of them. Your stomach turns at the thought of this plan. You came from a railroad town when you met Arthur and you are also well aware of who Leviticus Cornwall is. So you have a pretty good idea how this whole thing could go down. 

The moment Dutch walks away, you dart towards the horses. Your hand shoots out to Arthur’s arm, pulling him aside. He gives you a look of confusion at your sudden appearance and your face instantly up in his. “Have you all lost your damn minds?!” Your eyes blaze intensely at him. “We’re up here freezing and barely hanging on because of one over-reaching plan and now you’re fixing to do another?!”

Arthur takes a quick glance around to see if anyone else has seen your little tantrum before he addresses it himself. “That’s how it goes,” he shrugs as if it were nothing more than heading to town for supplies. 

“How it goes?!” Your hand flies to your forehead as your heartbeat thunders in your ears.

Arthur’s eyes turn icy despite his face flushing red with irritation as his fists flex slightly. “Let me worry about that,” he warns. “You just mind the people here.”

“I’m worried for you, Arthur.” You step up even closer to him, cupping his cold cheeks in your hands. “Who do you think Dutch is going to march up there, front and center? Surely not his ass!”

Arthur collects your hands into his own, giving them a slight squeeze as he pulls them from his face. Guilt floods his chest as he registers the fear in your eyes. But what can he do? Dutch calls and it is his obligation to obey. “I ain’t got time for this now, Y/N.” His gravelly voice is low and soft for you. “Just stay put and out of the way.” You can see in his eyes the unspoken ask for forgiveness, the idea of keeping you protected paramount in his mind. 

Your shoulders slump in defeat, knowing there is nothing you can say or do to prevent this from happening. When he sees you’ve quieted down, Arthur pulls you in to him to place a brief kiss to your temple before slinging himself up into Buck’s awaiting saddle. He gives you a quick nod before leading Buck off to follow the others who have already started to head out of the camp. 

You stand alone in the snow as you watch them all head out, the wind picking up to lift the few strands of hair from your face. That all-too familiar feeling of dread swirls in your chest like a maelstrom. And all you can do is pray that Dutch has a solid enough plan and everyone else does their part so that Arthur doesn’t have to take the brunt of it all. 

___________________________________

*This is another fantastic image by @sixgunluvr

You have never been this far north before, never been in such a desolate landscape. Growing up back east outside of Boston, there was always somewhere to go, always shelter, food or help if needed. But here, in the Western Grizzlies, there is no one and nothing. It is both freeing, and terrifying. Everyone else in the gang  is on edge, for sure, but their countenance is separate from yours. Most of them have lived this way for a good part of their lives. You, on the other hand, are almost paralyzed like a deer, afraid to move in either direction and you’re trying not to bolt in a million different directions out of panic. You would die within days here if it weren't for Arthur.

The landscape is cold and frigid, yet beautifully peaceful. Enticingly quiet yet deceptively deadly. You wonder to yourself if this will be where you meet your end. Looking about, will this be the final thing you see when your eyes close for the last time? At this very moment, you want nothing more than to lay down on the soft, pillowy snow and just let go and let it all be over. No more strain, no more hunger. No more cold and freezing temperatures. No more looking over your shoulders. No more running. What if you just set yourself down and gave in?

It would be easy enough to do, considering how fast you’d freeze to death. Beautiful and deadly diamonds that glitter are everywhere you look, an endless sea of white, calling like the deadly sirens of Greek mythology. It is so desolate and silent here. No sounds to be heard, rarely even a bird. Just the whistling winds that swoop down from the mountaintop. The silence is a relief from the chaos, giving one time to settle their thoughts. But it is also terrifyingly lonesome. The mountains offer you protection, but they also keep you isolated. 

The dark and foreboding mountains are like the teeth of the earth, jagged and dangerous, and as you sit in the middle of them, they swallow you as if you were nothing. The earth is a beautiful creature, elegant by design. But like any other creature in nature, she can be alluring and graceful one moment, and then turn on you in defense of herself in deadly fashion, evidence being how the mountains begin to swallow the sun, like a serpent devouring a bright yellow egg. The shadows of the mountain begin to stretch across the snow, like a bobcat’s claws. 

Despite being a collective group, you are all isolated from the world here, left only to rely on each other. And you can only hope that each other will be enough. 

Thankfully, the robbery of the Cornwall train managed to go off with minimal error. The gang didn’t lose anyone and no one came back with more holes in their body than what they left camp with. While it was not overwhelmingly lucrative, Arthur did manage to find a large stash of bonds that Dutch found valuable. So with a little more in the camp’s funds, you are hoping that will keep Dutch off Arthur’s back for a bit.

You wander to the edge of the small lake on the edge of the camp, nudging the slushy mess with the toe of your boot before lifting your eyes up to the expansive vista once more. These thoughts of yours are dangerous. You question the gang and your purpose within it. You question yourself and your worth. You begin to question Arthur.

And the thoughts terrify you. You feel as if it is an act of betrayal, whether vocalized or not. Your love for Arthur is larger than the endless sky and deeper than the bluest ocean. But what if this is all for nothing? After these last few weeks of tension, what if his love for you is cooling down like the arctic winds that are currently lifting the wisps of hair from your chapped cheeks? He wouldn’t do that, would he?

But you shake your head at such dangerous nonsense. Arthur loves you. You know it. You feel it. Just because you cannot wrap yourselves up together like love-drunk teenagers in a summer meadow doesn’t mean everything that has led to this point has stopped. You have to trust in him. You have to open your heart and trust that he will always be there with open arms to welcome you. 

With a cleansing sigh, you begin to hum to yourself. It’s a silly little thing that you do when preoccupied. The melodies always touch Arthur’s heart when he catches you doing it. They calm him like a snake-charmer. You always murmur soft words and hum gentle music to yourself, not even aware that you are doing it.

Your thoughts are disrupted when you catch Lenny out of the corner of your eye heading to the water’s edge with a fishing pole in his gloved hand and an axe swung up upon his shoulder. 

“What in the hell are you up to, Mr. Summers?” you inquire with curiosity.

He flashes you a toothy smile. “Gonna try my hand at ice fishing.”

Your eyebrows knit in confusion, not sure you heard him correctly. “Ice fishing?”

“Yeah. Can’t be that hard, right? Hardest part is cutting the hole, I reckon,” he shrugs.

When you don’t answer him with anything but a scowl of skepticism, Lenny sighs. 

“Look, I know it’s not a great idea, but we need to eat. That deer that Arthur and Charles brought back won’t last much longer and who knows how long we’ll be up here.” 

“Just be careful,” you concede, not entirely convinced this is even a good idea let alone a great one.

You watch the young man adjust the axe over his shoulder and tentatively head out onto the icy lake. He tests the frosted surface with calculated steps, slow and steady, until he gets far enough out to cut through. He begins to make several hacks into the ice, chips flying in the air with each cut. When Lenny gets a hole that he’s happy with, he sets the blade down next to him and grabs the fishing pole to set the bait onto the hook. And within a few minutes, he carefully plunks the end of the line into the icy depths of the water, shaking the pole a bit to entice whatever fish may be lurking below. 

But an odd sound begins to permeate the otherwise quiet, cold air. You know what that sound is, but can’t quite place it. It quickly turns into a groaning noise that begins to travel across the ice. Your eyebrows knit in confusion, trying to determine where exactly it’s coming from, as it seems to be coming from all around, when a loud crack snaps your attention. Things thrust into motion in a fraction of a second when one moment Lenny is standing in front of you, and the next he disappears through the ice, plunging into the frigid waters. 

“Lenny!!!” 

Your scream echoes off of the snow and buildings, alerting everyone in camp. But your body explodes into motion before your mind can even comprehend what you’re doing and you dart off towards him. 

“Y/N, get back here!” Arthur shouts from the shore as his whole body goes rigid at the sight of you running out onto the ice, but your eyesight is locked on Lenny. “Damn it!” he shouts again when it’s abundantly clear that you will not be stopping, despite his command.

You only make it a few yards out onto the ice when you hear the arctic groaning beneath your feet. You stop dead in your tracks, arms waving in the air to keep yourself from falling flat on your face, and scan the icy floor to try to determine if it will give way under you as well. But Lenny’s panicked yelling snaps your attention forwards again and you immediately drop to your stomach to begin crawling across the cracking ice. 

Panicked and frustrated beyond human comprehension, Arthur is about to run out after you. But Dutch is quick to grab his shoulder pulling him to a dead stop. “Arthur, wait!” 

Arthur reflexively shoves Dutch’s arm off him, trying to wrench himself free of the older man’s iron grasp. “Damn it, Arthur, stop!” hollers Dutch, trying to drill some common sense into him as he grabs a fistful of his jacket in an attempt to halt the man once more. “You run out there, you’ll fall in too, and drown the whole lot of you!” 

The very idea of it halts Arthur in place as he blinks rapidly into Dutch’s face. But he knows his mentor is right. And all Arthur can do is stand there helplessly as he turns his face back to the lake to watch you inching across the ice. 

“Son of a -” curses Arthur, trying to think what, if anything, he can do to help you. Adrenaline shoots painfully throughout his system as he just simply cannot sit idly by and do nothing while you creep along death’s door. Suddenly, Arthur gets an idea and he races over to the nearest shed to grab a bundle of rope. 

“Y/N! Help me, please!” Lenny screams, arms flailing in a desperate attempt to keep his head above the frigid mountain water. 

“Hold on, Lenny! Hold on, I’m coming to get you!” you holler over the sound of the sloshing water. You can see the panic setting in on the young man’s face, the whites of his eyes rolling back against his dark skin.

“Y/N!” Arthur calls out, desperate to get your attention. Finally, you acknowledge him and turn over your shoulder just in time to see Arthur toss a rope out to you. Amazingly, Arthur is able to place the rope within a foot of your grasp.  Your hand quickly shoots out to grab ahold of the bundle. You look up to gauge Lenny’s situation, realizing that you need to act quickly, so you tie the rope around your ankle so that you don't risk dropping it and freeing your already freezing  hands. 

You gingerly crawl across the ice as it creaks and cracks under you as you move and the closer you get to Lenny, the more anxious he becomes, desperate to be out of the water.

“Y/N!” Lenny reaches an arm out, his long fingers trying to reach for you. 

“You need to stay calm, Lenny! Come on, stay with me now!” After what feels like hours, but only mere minutes, you finally reach the young man. He grapples at you, trying to use you to pull himself up. “Careful!” you screech. “You’re gonna pull me in with you!” You try to control his flailing arms, and gingerly wrap your arms under his and clamp them together behind his back. But he is desperately grabbing at you, terrified of falling deeper into the dark, icy water. 

“I got him! Pull us out!” you holler back over your shoulder to Arthur. 

“Bill! Get over here and grab this rope and help me pull ‘em in!” Arthur yells over to said man. 

“I got ya!” Bill rushes over as his giant hands take up the tails of the rope when he stands next to Arthur. 

The sun is crawling behind the horizon line and darkness has started to encroach on the mountainside. Arthur is beginning to have a hard time seeing you clearly, barely able to see your water-soaked forms struggling in the water, but the sound of your combined panicked shouts and the thrashing of the water cuts deep into Arthur’s brain, causing a sickening boulder to lodge in his stomach.

They begin to pull the rope, heaving it back towards the shore. The strength of the two burly men is enough to drag Lenny out of the water and the two of you along the surface of the ice. The cold of the ice beneath you creeps into your bones, causing your whole body to shiver as you are drug slowly across its plane. You can hear Lenny whimpering in your ear as you hold him close to you, your arms cramping from the vice grip you have around him. 

The frigid lake water seeps into the snow under you, sponging its way into the ice as you slide along the surface. Fine threads begin to crack and embed themselves into the cold surface. As you are being pulled along at an agonizingly slow rate, you hear the ice begin to groan and creak loudly underneath you. The cold fissures begin to snap and pop loudly all around you once more, the familiar sound alerting you to what is about to happen, giving you no time to prepare. And your chest fills with immediate dread at what you are certain is about to come. You have but a mere moment to toss a terrified look over your shoulder to Arthur on the shore, your eyes briefly meeting the fear in his, before it happens. 

Time stops and the world along with it the moment the ice gives way again and Lenny plunges into the freezing water once more, dragging you in along with him. 

It’s like someone has punched a hole into his chest and grabs his heart with a crippling grip when Arthur sees you disappear from his view beneath the dark watery surface. 

“Y/N!!” His voice echoes off snow in a cacophony of sound. He is a man incensed as once again Arthur tries to run out onto the lake as fear of losing you consumes him. And once again he is wrestled back, only this time it takes both Dutch and Bill to contain him. 

The ice water is like a thousand knives stabbing your entire body all at once. You immediately gasp at the shock of the dramatic temperature change that assaults your senses. You try to keep yourself afloat while also trying to grab Lenny, who is simply beyond distraught at this point. In sheer panic, Lenny tries to use you to keep himself above the water but Lenny’s dead weight almost drowns you as his heavy limbs push you down underneath him into the water. You flail your arms wildly trying to find something to latch your frozen fingers to, your lungs burning from the lack of oxygen to the tender organs. Panic begins to seep in as the water is so dark that you cannot see to tell which end is up. From some far off distance, you hear your name hollered into the air, the sound of Arthur’s terrified voice muffled by the murky water filling your ears.

It isn't until your hand smacks into the sheet of ice above your head that you can get your bearings. Your fingers break through the icy water surface to grab onto the ice. The sharp edge of the sheet of ice cuts into your hand as you clamp onto it for dear life. Feeling the air once more, you haul yourself upwards, gasping for breath once your face clears the surface. 

Arthur exhales sharply when he sees your head above the surface once again, his eyes darting back and forth as he watches you try to breach the watery surface to breathe in the air. Relief descends upon him with incredible force, but it is short-lived, as you still have to make it back to dry soil yet and back to him. 

You cough violently as you try to replace the frigid, filthy lakewater in your burning lungs with the equally cold air, vomiting up what feels like a waterfall before the stars in your vision clear and you can see again. 

Lenny! 

Your mind immediately goes to your friend once again once your wits are about you. By the grace of God, he is still next to you, but his face is just barely breaching the water surface. You frantically grab the collar of his shirt, clutching him to you once more. 

With stiff fingers, you manage the presence of mind to slip the rope off your ankle and tie it around Lenny’ chest. The young man can hardly move now, his extremities frozen as hypothermia begins to set in. 

He turns his frosted cheeks to look in your eyes. “I…can’t…can’t feel my legs, Y/N” he chatters. His voice carries the fading signs of hope that he will survive this mess, and it breaks your heart. 

“Hold on, Lenny. I got you. We’ll do this”, you encourage him, trying to nod with certainty. Your gaze holds his with a commanding presence, fully refusing to give up. 

You swim to maneuver yourself behind him, wrapping your body around Lenny’s and draping yourself over his back. “Pull!” you scream to the shore again. “For god’s sake, Arthur, pull the damn rope!” Your voice is a hoarse, desperate cry that unsettles Arthur’s very core.

The two men haul on the rope to drag you and Lenny out of the water once again, your faces scraping across the numbingly-cold surface when you are no longer able to hold your heads up and the snow builds up under your chests like a wedge. It makes you even colder than you thought possible. You whimper as ice shards painfully slice into your face, biting into your flesh like fleas. When they get you close enough to the water’s edge, Bill and Arthur run out onto the ice to grab you both. 

Bill, Javier and Rev. Swanson scramble to get Lenny to the cabin house to the fire, while Arthur is quick to scoop you up, holding you tightly to his chest as he carries you in behind them. Dutch marches to the front of the group, leading the way with a lantern and opens the door for everyone.

Once inside, the rest of the group moves like a flock of birds suddenly startled and set to flight. People scatter to find blankets and coats, dry clothing and hot food and beverages. They take Lenny straight to the fire in the great hearth, the flames stoked high to generate as much heat as possible. Arthur, on the other hand, pulls you aside, away from the chaos, and carefully sets you down in front of the pot-belly stove in the middle of the room. He reaches into the coal bucket that sits next to the cast-iron beast and tosses another chunk of the black rock into its belly before turning his full attention back to you. 

With everyone in a flurry over Lenny, Tilly notices the two of you and is quick to rush over, eager to assist Arthur, but he shrugs her off.

“Nevermind, I got this,” he grumbles over his shoulder to his adopted sister as he yanks the blanket out of her hands. “Go on, go help with Lenny.” He waves dismissively to her, trying to avoid the look of shock on her cherub face. Tilly simply stands there, not sure what to do. She wants to help you, to be useful and to do something for you, but she is very aware of Arthur’s foul temperament and knows better than to push back against him. Her eyes flick up to yours with a silent apology before she turns away to make her way over to help Ms Grimshaw. 

But Arthur doesn’t mean to be so abrupt with the poor girl. She only wants to help and he knows that. But Arthur is just so protective of you right now. His whole body is heated with a churning vortex of emotions that he cannot even begin to name. He doesn’t want anyone or anything coming between you two as you sit helplessly before him, a shivering, water-logged mess. 

Arthur immediately begins to yank your layers of clothing off, pulling harshly at the cold and soggy fabric before hypothermia sets in. His fingers work at a frenzied pace, desperate to get you warm before you fall ill. He is indifferent if anyone around you should see your skin, couldn't care any less for “propriety”. Let anyone dare to make a comment about your state of undress and it will be the very last words that person will utter. 

Once the clammy, frigid fabric is removed from your poor body, Arthur shucks off his blue coat and bundles you up in it, the fur collar swallowing your red frozen cheeks. Once he has your torso wrapped up for warmth, he pulls his gloves off and tosses them down next to him in a rage to free his fingers so he can start pulling at your boots. A person’s extremities are the first to go in cold weather like this, so he’s worried about the condition of your feet. 

You study your beloved’s face carefully as he avoids eye contact, an angry scowl etched into his face as he moves about, his movements stark and jostling. You notice the lines of tension around his eyes, his lips drawn into a thin line. His whole body trembles with something on the verge of being volcanic. Your eyelashes flutter as you try to keep yourself from crying over the guilt you have for putting him through this. 

“H…Ho…How’s L…Lenny?” you croak, your voice sounding brittle and broken.

Arthur’s keen eyes briefly dart to yours, barely able to understand you over the loud chatter of your teeth. “He’ll be fine, thanks to you,” he barks, leaning forward as the outlaw’s large hands rub along your arms to entice the blood circulation again, praying it will be enough to heat you up quickly. “But nevermind about that now. Worry about your own damn self.”

You instinctively recoil, pitching him a speechless, incredulous look. 

“Don’t look at me like that, Y/N,” Arthur snaps, his jaw clenching tightly as he works. “Now, I mean it. Let’s get you taken care of before you start fussing over Lenny.”

“Arthur-“

“Y/N, don’t fight me on this!” he barks at you again, his eyes burning intensely with unbridled anger as he shakes his head. “Don’t you ever, ever do anything like that again. Hear me? Don’t you ever go charging out onto ice like that.” His emotions, his fear, have a tight grip on him and have finally come to spill over, unable to be contained within his burly frame. 

Hearing Arthur’s voice raised above the swirling chaos of voices and activity catches Ms. Grimshaw’s shrewd attention. Her shoulders tense as she takes in a sharp breath when she notices him looming over you in your fragile state. The matron quickly crosses the room to come to your defense, her face drawn into a sharp, disapproving frown. 

“Mr. Morgan, I would strongly advise-” Her tone is threatening but Arthur is in no mood for one of her lectures right now. 

“Stay outta this!” he hollers back at her, causing the older woman to freeze in her tracks, eyes wide and mouth gaped. But he couldn’t care any less about offending the old crone before returning his attention back to you. 

“I don’t know where your damn head was at. Not even thinking, just running,” he fumes as he takes your red, chapped hands into his own. Like a school child, your eyes quickly blink back the shameful tears that threaten to break free from your lashes. You risk another glance at Arthur’s face, fearful of the disapproval in his eyes. 

But taking a step back from the situation, you notice not so much the anger in Arthur, but the fear. His fear that you were hurt, his fear that you could be gone forever. You are well acquainted with that fear because you feel it yourself every single damn time he leaves you for another job or mission. But the difference is, you have never had to witness that danger with your own eyes. You have never had to look Death in the face and watch the specter’s hands grapple for your love right in front of you. 

Arthur continues to chaotically fuss over you, snatching up his gloves and roughly shoves them onto your hands in scared, panicked frustration. The force with which he shoves them onto your hands causes you to cry out with a sad little whimper, and he stops dead in his tracks, finally stopping for one damn second to really take you in. His eyes bolt to your face, terrified that he’s hurt you more than you are. He watches a hot tear slowly run down your cheek, the only thing of heat in your body right now. 

Arthur takes a deep, steadying breath for a moment. Softening only slightly, he collects your face with both of his large hands so that you have to look at him, his thumb wiping away the salty tear. 

“I’m sorry. I don’t mean to be…I just…” His mind scrambles trying to find the words to tell you what aches in his rapidly-beating heart. “Jesus, I almost lost you, sweetheart. Do you know that?”

“You almost lost both of us,” you correct with a sniffle. You turn your head just enough to catch sight of Lenny. He is shivering violently, with blankets being piled on him. Javier is helping him into dry clothing. Susan is buzzing about, making hot beverages, either coffee or tea and shoving it into his frozen hands. The whole sight is a sad state of affairs. 

You turn back to look at Arthur, sharing a silent conversation of dread between you. He pulls your head into his chest to cradle you, both to keep you warm and to hold on tight, lest he risk losing you again. 

“I know, sweetheart, I know,” he mumbles to your unspoken statement.

That night, wrapped up in a blanket like a newborn babe, Arthur carries you to your room in the other cabin that you share with Dutch, Molly, and Hosea. Your feet and legs burn from possible frostbite and Arthur won’t let you walk until you have more stability to you. 

Once inside, he carefully sets you upon the bed before moving about to close the doors and securing the building against the night air. Another two logs are delicately laid in the hearth of the fireplace, stoked to keep the ruby coal glowing for another few hours. 

Arthur keeps a watchful eye on you, though, those crystalline blue eyes of his ever so vigilant. Your eyes grow increasingly heavier as you watch Arthur peel away his coat and toe-off his snowy boots before crawling into the bed with you. A sign of relief escapes your chest when the bed sags from his weight as he settles in along your side. For the last few days, you have been like passing ships in the night. But tonight, Arthur isn’t taking anything for granted. 

Arthur straightens the threadbare blankets, shuffling himself in to lay next to you. His arm securely tucks you against him to sleep, your body cradled to him as he offers you his body heat. He needs to feel you against him, to know you are safe. The safest place for his woman to be is wrapped up into his burly arms, guarding you against the cruel world outside your shabby little room. For him, your relationship is not complicated:  you look after him, he looks after you. That has always been your deal. And he will uphold that promise, tooth and nail, until he draws his last breath on this earth. 

Exhaustion finally wins the battle over your senses and you tightly curl up against Arthur, still shivering slightly from the icebath. Your cheek lays over his heart, its hypnotic beating lulling you into a comforted state to allow your body to relax. His face twists up slightly with a stuttered exhale escaping his cold nose as he squeezes you to him, holding you against him as if someone would come and take you away. The quiet darkness of the evening wraps around the two of you as the melody of the crackling woodfire sings you its lullaby. Arthur offers you a peace like none other and it is here that you find your bliss, despite the ugliness that tries to tear your mind apart. 

The constant shivering has left your body aching and drained. And while the color has returned to your skin, Arthur is still worried over you. He is desperate for that feeling of fire that burns within you, that spark that made him absolutely crazy for you; to feel the heat of you when he wraps himself up into your very soul. 

Your group has always lived with the fear that every day could be your last day on this Earth. But the reality that he almost lost you today is too much for Arthur to bear. His broken mind just cannot wrap around that very concept. And now that the Pinkertons are hot on your tails hunting the gang, the harsh reality of life’s fragility is all too real and, unfortunately, the odds are ever increasing against the entire gang. 

Your fingertips absentmindedly twist the worn fabric of the collar of his shirt as you lay against him. The only sound in the tiny room is the popping of the fire, Arthur’s heartbeat in your ear and your deep, labored breathing. 

“What are we going to do, Arthur?” Your frail voice slices the calm air and drifts up to his ears, barely an angel’s whisper. It pains him to hear you so defeated, so worried, a fraction of the vivacious spirit that you usually carry.

“I don’t know, Sweetheart,’ he sighs. And for the first time ever, you can hear the doubt and vulnerability in Arthur’s tone. “But we can’t fix our problems using the same thinking that created ‘em.” 

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*This images comes from @rita-the-outlaw

The next day is filled with new energy. Dutch has decided it’s time to start thinking of moving out of Colter. The gang has lingered long enough to shake the law, but has now caught the attention of the O’Driscoll gang. And with a viper like Colm O’Driscoll lurking nearby, you don’t want to be caught unprepared. You personally haven’t had the pleasure of dealing with Mr. O’Driscoll, but from what you’ve heard, he is not someone that you want to make an enemy of. 

Your body is still recovering from your fall into the ice water, so Arthur is insistent that you stay inside and bundled up for the day. And while you feel a bit of guilt for not carrying your fair share of the weight of chores, you agree to stay put. The girls have been sweet to come and check on you and bring you food and drink. Mary-Beth brought you one of her books to keep you occupied and Tilly sat for a few games of dominoes. Even Jack came to sit with you. It warmed your very soul when he curled up in bed with you, resting his little head against your chest while you read a few short stories to him.

And despite being pulled in a million directions, Arthur made it a point to check on you every spare second that he could. It may have been cumbersome, but it did settle his nerves to lay his eyes on you to confirm that you are still alive and breathing and getting better with each visit.

When evening falls once again, you need a change of scenery and find the energy to bring yourself out of your room to sit in the common area of the cabin to wait for Arthur’s return. At the rattling of the rickety door-knob of your room, Hosea looks up from where he’s huddled over by the fireplace. He doesn’t like to admit it, but he’s getting too old for harsh weather like this. His coughing and chest pain have been kicking up lately, the dry, frigid air wrenching havoc on his lungs. But Hosea’s mind is still ever-so sharp, making him a key player to this gang. So he will offer his counsel, do what he can, but often needs to retire to the safety of the fires. 

Hosea’s kind and tired eyes twinkle a bit at the sight of you up and about, a bit of fatherly relief settled over his old heart to see you. He leans over to stoke the fire a bit, tossing on another few logs, and makes room for you to settle yourself down in front of the fireplace next to him with a blanket tucked around your shoulders. 

You drop down to the chair with a slight groan and let out a comfortable sigh as your muscles relax into their new-found position. You and Hosea sit in a comfortable silence for a bit, both staring into the hypnotic flames of the fireplace. The smell of the fire and its radiating warmth washes over you as you give in to it. 

“How you doin’, girl?” Hosea asks softly, bringing his cigarette up to his lips. 

“Alight, I suppose,” you hum. “Better than some.”

“Yeah, I get that,” he nods. “Arthur giving you trouble?” He raises an eyebrow at you, his fatherly tone poised as if he’s about to scold someone. 

“No,” you smile back at him. “He’s just…’Arthur’. You know?”

A soft chuckle crosses his weathered lips. “Yeah,” he sighs. ”I know.”

A darkness suddenly settles over your brow. With Hosea, you feel comforted and free to confess your troubled thoughts. For who better to understand Arthur, than Hosea?

“I worry about him so much, Hosea,” you breathe out, the pain and worry wrapped around each syllable you utter. 

“Don’t fret over him,” Hosea replies simply with a slight, dismissive wave of his hand. “He’ll be fine. He always is.”

But although he is trying to put your mind at ease, his answer just perplexes you even more. “People keep telling me that,” you shake your head. “But what if he isn’t, Hosea?” You turn your watery eyes from the fire to meet his watchful gray ones. “What then? A man can only do so much. I mean, what do we do if Arthur isn’t alright?”

Your statement stuns Hosea as he simply looks at you with no answer to offer you. For you have just brought to light the very concern that is harbored deep within all of you.

But as soon as the words cross your lips, you immediately feel a pang of regret as you see the concern and worry wash over Hosea as well. Hosea Matthews may be a long-harden outlaw, but he is still an aging man, one with ailments and health conditions that no one in the gang wants to directly address. When you lost your own father before joining the gang, you filled that hole in your heart with the man sitting next to you. And you will protect him as much as possible, just as he would do for you. 

“Don’t mind me, Hosea”, you offer softly. “I’m just a silly woman. Caught up in the turmoil, I suppose.” You try to chuckle and shrug off the ominous cloud that hangs over the room. You look down at your hands folded haplessly in your lap.

But Hosea doesn’t scold you. If anything, he appreciates your warmth and compassion for everyone in the gang, especially for his son who probably needs it the most. 

“Arthur’s a lucky man to have such a woman fuss over him. When he forgets to love himself, I think you love him twice as much to make up for it. I look at you and it makes me miss my Bessie.” 

Your bottom lip quivers as you try your damnedest not to cry. That is the greatest compliment Hosea could have given you, knowing how beloved the woman was to everyone who knew her. You reach over and wrap your fingers around his wrinkled hand, squeezing it slightly, and then you both return to your shared, comforted silence in front of the fire. 

When the night sky has gone black as ink and Arthur still hasn’t come in, your eyelids begin to droop so you politely say good night to Hosea and head back to your little ramshackle room to turn in for the night.

Moving at a languid pace, you heat up some snow for some warm water to wash up with before bed. Between the cold mountain temperatures and not being near a town with a bath house, cleansing has been hard to come by since your stay here in Colter, but you try to make sure you are clean. The modest fire dances in the fireplace and takes the chill out of the room just enough to disrobe in sections as you wipe your body down with the damp cloth. 

Arthur eventually comes into the cabin with a hardened look and a grumble under his breath. He kicks the snow off his boots and ambles over to sit next to Hosea, plopping himself down to warm himself a bit. 

Hosea says nothing, simply watching the younger man maneuvering about, giving him a few moments before he starts in on him. 

“You need to take better care of your girl,” scolds Hosea, the frown lines on his already wrinkled face cutting deep and menacingly. 

Arthur’s eyebrows arch in surprise before releasing a dismissive snort. 

“I take care of her just fine. She’s alright”, he grumbles.

Hosea pitches him a disappointed and quiet look. “Jesus, you’re an idiot.”

“Yeah, well, you’re old”, scoffs Arthur with a lofty eye roll. 

The comfortable banter gives Hosea a chuckle. Arthur is a grown man, well into his 30’s, even considered ‘old’ himself by some standards. And yet, the look of disappointment from his ”father” never does sit well with him. And Hosea’s right too. He’s been a right miserable bastard these last few weeks and especially to you, his treasure, his love. 

Arthur sits quietly in contemplation, his fingers absentmindedly rolling a cigarette between his fingers as he stares into the fire, his thoughts swirling like the flames in front of him.

Arthur lets out a long tired sigh and slowly drags himself up, grabbing a few more pieces of fresh-cut wood, and heads to your bedroom door. 

“Hey,” Arthur pauses and calls over to Hosea, who looks up from the fireplace. “Thanks, ‘sea”

The old man waves him off with a smile and goes back to his peace and quiet. 

With an arm full of wood for the little fireplace, Arthur nudges his shoulder into the door to enter your room. He grumbled when he found out you took the smaller room in the cabin upon arrival in this shriveled little mining town. But you had done so knowing it would be the easiest to heat. And your gamble proved to be right. The room has a soft, gold glow about it and the heat from the small fireplace takes the chill out of the frigid Colter air nicely. 

He pauses to take a look around and notices you’ve been fixing up the place while he’s been otherwise occupied. The floor has been swept of dirt, and the strings of cobwebs that tethered to the ceiling have been brushed away. Your personal things are neatly stacked in the corners, your coats and scarves and such line the one wall to keep dry. The rickety-old bed has been made up with your blankets, the edges turned down like a hotel. You have made this little shack cozy. You even managed to scavenge some curtains from other buildings and made a makeshift privacy curtain behind which you are currently bathing yourself. 

“Arthur? Is that you?” Your honey-sweet voice carries softly, mingled with the crackling of the fire, when you hear the door close, snapping him out of his reverie.

“Yeah, it’s me. You doin’ alright in here?”

“Sure. Just cleaning up a bit.”

Making his way across the room, Arthur sets the wood down and stokes the fire, wiping his hands on the sides of his pants before heading over to you. He can hear you humming a delicate tune as he approaches, a melody swirling to meet his ears. With a cigarette dangling expertly from his lips, Arthur pulls back the fabric with two fingers and peeps around the curtain. His eyes widen slightly at the sight of your delicate skin being exposed

A soft smile tugs at his pillowy lips at the serene sight. “Hey, you.” 

When you turn your cheek to meet his gaze, your smile in return is like the morning sun. “Hey, you,” you purr back to him. The shining light in your eyes and adoring smile on your face captivates his souls like nothing else in this world. 

“Need a hand with that?” He playfully raised an eyebrow at you.

You give him a soft giggle. “Sure. Mind getting my back for me?”

“Can’t think of anything I want to do more right now.”

He flicks his cigarette to the floor, smothering it with his boots as he walks up behind you, clearing his throat as he takes the wash cloth from your hand. Your smile grows even more and your bottom lip gets pulled between your teeth in anticipation as you turn back around to grant him full access to your backside. 

Arthur slowly drags the cloth over your back and shoulder blades, observing how the skin pulls against the muscle.  His ocean-blue eyes rake over your body, refreshing his mind with the map of your features that are forever etched into his brain. 

His gaze skips from the curve of your neck, to the elegant swoop of your shoulder, down between the protruding shoulder blades and further on down the valley of your spine until he settles on the sudden swell of your rear, currently draped in your bloomers, the ruffles of the fabric all hanging limply along the sides. He wishes he could cover you in the finest of clothing, as you so deserve it. Arthur adores your simplicity, but then again, you are absolutely breath-taking in refinement. You have never even asked for, let alone demanded, such extravagance from him. But that makes Arthur want to provide for you all the more. 

“How’s your feet? Gonna lose any toes?” he muses, trying to forget the images of you almost drowning that still flash before his eyes.

“No,” you smirk. “I think I’ll be keeping all my toes and extremities.”

A chuckle rumbles from his broad chest. “Good. ‘Cause I kinda like your toes,” he whispers in your ear, his voice dropping to a playful, sultry tone that makes you giggle again with an accompanying blush as you feel his fingertips dancing along your hip.

Arthur continues to wash your back for you when he notices a bruise along your side, his head tilting to the side in confusion. The sight of any bruise on you, no matter how it got there, never sits well with him. “What happened here?” His thick finger gently ghosts over the purple and yellow bruise that blossomed across your skin. 

“Huh?” Your chin turns over your shoulder to follow his sightline. “Oh, Susan wanted a chest moved so she and I hauled it around. I backed into the hanging cupboard.”

“Why didn’t you get one of the men to do it?” he frowns.

“Because I couldn’t find one,” you chuckle in return. “And you know me, I wanted it done right now.”

Arthur scowls at that a bit, realizing how much he’s put you through. He carefully drags the wet cloth over the bruise as if to wash its existence away completely.

When he’s done, Arthur wrings the cloth out and lays it across the hook on the wall to dry before coming back to you, placing his hand onto its rightful place on your hip. He leans over and peppers delicate kisses to the top of your shoulder, his beard ticking just so slightly. 

“There, now. All clean, pretty as a picture.” 

“Thank you, Love” you whisper, turning your face to him so he can place another kiss to your forehead. He gives you privacy as he wanders over to the bed to relax, giving you time to dress yourself in your sleep gown. When you come around from behind the privacy curtain, hands twinning in your hair to braid it, your eyes settle on your outlaw who is sitting quietly, leaning onto his knees with his forearms, staring blankly into the flames of the calming fire. His shoulders hunch up to his ears, his eyes carrying a vacant, depleted look.

Without a word, your feet pad across the floor to carry you to the bed. You stand in front of him with a soft, empathetic smile on your rose-petal lips. Arthur tilts his chin upward to catch your gaze and wordlessly pulls you closer, resting his forehead onto your abdomen, arms encircling your waist. Your hands float up to gently card you fingers through his hair, eliciting a deep sigh from him as your fingertips dance along his scalp. You lean over him slightly, cradling him to you as you savor the delicate moment, placing a delicate kiss to his crown. 

After a few moments of his steady breathing you crawl in behind Arthur with the hem of your gown balled up into your soft hands, his head twisting slightly as his eyes follow you, captivated by every move that your muscles make. You sit up on your knees behind him and begin to massage his shoulders to release the tension. You frown when you feel how hard and tight his shoulders are. A deep and appreciative groan emanates from Arthur’s chest as your strong, yet soft hands dig into his muscles a bit harder to break up the tissue there, his head dipping down between his shoulders to give you better access.

When you’re done, your arms wrap around his broad shoulders, fingers curling back and forth across his collarbone and you bury your face into his neck, placing soft, tender kisses there. He catches your hand and brings the back of your knuckles to his lips before tightly engulfing it with his own. 

“I’m sorry you have to carry this burden, Arthur.” Your forehead affectionately touches the side of his.

“Don’t be. It's a job I signed up for long ago.”

“I know,” you whisper with a tinge of sadness to your voice. “But still, there’s only so much a man can take.”

“Oh, I can take a lot, sweetheart,” he chuckles half-heartedly. “Don’t concern yourself.” Although he has to admit, it does feel good to have someone worry about him, to take the time to even notice him at all. 

“I forgot, you can handle anything because you’ve already handled everything,” you sigh. “But of course I’m concerned about you, Arthur. Seems like I’m one of the only people who are these days.” The fingers of your other hand begin the play with the collar of his union suit. 

“And that’s why you’re my favorite,” he smiles. He gently tugs on your arm to pull you around and into his lap. Once he has you settled there, Arthur stares up into your face, a look of absolute serenity gracing his rugged features. His hand lifts up to cup your face, his long fingers sliding under your hair as his thumb gently swipes across your cheekbone. He marvels at how he now understands that it is not about who hurt you or broke you down in this life. It is about who is always there to take care of you and make your heart smile once again. 

You and Arthur share a connection that neither of you could ever deny, nor would you ever want to. You accepted each other into your hearts, and that has become your home, your center. 

“I could stare at you all day, you know that?” Arthur’s blue eyes twinkle happily with his simple declaration. 

With a loving hum, you lean forward to slowly kiss him, your lips brushing against each other like wildflowers on the wind. Your lips gently work against each other’s, working into each other like a puzzle piece. Your body begins to curl itself up into him to bask in his warmth, desperate to be as close as possible to him.

“You’re like a cat,” he smiles into your mouth, “Trying to curl up into my pocket.” After a few more moments of delicious kisses, he reluctantly pulls away as you chase his lips in response.

“I thought you were pulling away from me,” he whispers with a glimmer of pain in his voice, clutching you tighter as his face twists slightly in concern.

“Maybe I was,” you sigh, your finger lifting his overgrown hair out of his beautiful, soulful eyes. “But you’ve been so angry since we left Blackwater. I wanted to give you time to work through what’s happened.”

Arthur casts his eyes down in shame. “Yeah, well…I shouldn’t’ve been like that with you. I was never angry with you.” 

“Oh, I think you were. Just a little”, you chuckle. You let out a contented sigh as you wrap your cold fingers around his face.

“I’m sorry I got you into this, Y/N, but I sure am glad I have you here with me. I think I would lose what little wits I got left without you.” His face suddenly scrunches up a bit. “Damn, your hands are freezing.”

You smile sheepishly. “Sorry. But trust me, they are certainly warmer than they were earlier.”

“Maybe we need to find a way to warm you up, then?” That smirk, that devilish smirk that you love so much has returned to his handsome, tired face, lighting that spark in your belly that has been absent for what seems like an eternity.

“What if Hosea hears us?” you giggle as your nose nudges against his. 

Arthur just shakes his eyebrows at you in response. “Don’t care. Besides, he ain’t no prude and certainly no saint.”

You shiver as Arthur pulls back from you a bit, his body heat immediately missed. He reaches over for his discarded coat and lays it down on the bed underneath you for added warmth before gently pushing your body to lay back, covering you with his own. You curl up into his chest to try to keep warm and to keep him close to you. 

This isn’t just a carnal, lustful need that has to be filled. You need to feel close to him again. To feel that bond, that connection that you so covet. Because without it, you feel as lost as a shriveled leaf blowing in the wind. And he suddenly has the need to feel you completely, to be all at once on you, in you, and wrapped tightly around you until he is utterly consumed by you. 

Things start out tonight more mechanical than anything. You both fidget awkwardly to get situated on the bed, clumsy kisses and uncoordinated hands initiate the intimacy. Both your and Arthur’s fingers playfully fight each other to unbutton his shirt and pull it off his shoulders, leaving him down to his union suit and trousers.

It's been awhile, for your standards anyway, and the tension of days past between you two certainly isn’t helping the mood. Because of the cold, you are not able to completely bare yourselves to each other, either, which is another factor. Normally, you prefer to be bare-skinned against each other, desperate to feel every inch of the other. 

But eventually, the awkwardness subsides. The hesitation fades away to allow old habits and familiar patterns to return. Your fingers trail over his muscled back, feeling the way his strong, powerful muscles move beneath the fabric of his union suit as he settles himself over you. Arthur quickly touches you as if he owns you and you wouldn’t have it any other way. You need him and he needs you. You need his body pressed against yours. He needs to feel your warmth and inhale your scent. He needs the taste of your kisses as much as you crave his hands wrapped around your curves. You are the unrelenting ache, an endless craving, for it is his unsettled soul that carries the chaos that only you can calm. 

The dance of passion quickly begins and Arthur loses himself in you, even if for only for a few moments, but that’s all he needs. Your lips chase him with a whine when Arthur pulls away from your face just so slightly to give himself room to pull at your nightgown. Like the way the sun energizes a flower, you bring his tired, restless soul back to life each time you are together and like the precious sun, you are like nothing else on this earth to him. Arthur has no words to describe what you do for him, but in his kiss, his lips carry a million words of love for you. And he can only hope you will taste each one of them, one by one. 

His hands are so warm that they almost burn your frigid skin as they travel everywhere on your body and yet, they are dry and rough from the latest ordeal. How Arthur is able to stay so warm in this arctic weather of Colter is beyond you, but you are so thankful for it. He is like sleeping with a bear and part of you whimpers in disappointment at not being able to run your fingers through his soft body hair as you grasp at him, having to settle instead with sliding your hand under the fabric of his union suit to feel his bare skin. 

His lips are dry and chapped from the weather, where you are used to the soft, plump skin, but they nestle perfectly as he attacks the curve of your collarbone, placing fevered and rushed kisses there. Arthur buries his face into the crook of your neck, arms wrapped around you to cradle you up into him, holding you tightly with almost cruising force. All 6 feet-plus of his barrel-chested frame lays atop of you, caging you into his warm body as he gently rubs himself against you. 

You cringe a bit when Arthur’s mammoth hand reaches to your plump middle, squeezing your too pliable stomach in his strong grasp. But Arthur doesn’t care about the extra weight you carry, never has. And he still can’t get over how you have chosen him, of all people, to allow to lay with you so intimately. His fingers handle you roughly, almost painfully, in his haste to touch every part of you. It is not unusual for slight blossoms of purple and blue to be left on your skin after being with Arthur. He is certainly not abusive, in fact far from it. It's just that he needs you so desperately that he forgets himself sometimes and forgets how rough he is. 

You have always loved the build up to the intimacy between the two of you, when gentle touching becomes impatient grabbing and soft lips give way to passionate tongues. And your heartbeat escalates until you feel like it will burst from your ribcage, only to be caught by his. 

It’s easy enough to take your clothes off and have sex, people do it all the time. But opening up your soul to someone, letting them see your hopes and fears, your thoughts and dreams, that is being truly naked to someone.

Arthur’s mouth trails along your jaw to continue its lover’s journey along your neck, following the curve of your body. He has always loved the way the bend of your neck fits the shape of his mouth so perfectly and how your glittering eyes always flutter and roll back when his lips find their way there. The pads of his weathered fingers skip down over the velvety skin of your lower abdomen, causing delicate goosebumps and the downy body hairs to rise in their wake. The tips of his fingers draw circles and rake across your belly before he reaches between your thighs to the apex of your heat. The moment he graces your tender folds, a passionate hiss escapes from your mouth, which he is quick to lift his head to greedily swallow. You angle your hips into his hand, desperate for the expert touch that only Arthur can provide you. 

“My beautiful girl,” he murmurs against your lips. “My beautiful girl, all mine.”

“All yours,” you breathe out. “Arthur…I need you. I can’t wait much longer,” your whisper desperately with your forehead digging against his, your fingers curling against the skin of his neck. And his chest almost explodes with the love he has for you when he realizes that you have just as deep a need for him as he has for you. 

His hand descends between your writhing bodies to pull at the remaining obstacle of buttons of his union suit to pull out his fully-erect cock. His hand trembles slightly from the anticipation as he pumps himself a few times before teasing your heat with it. Arthur rolls up onto his knees for better leverage and begins to slowly push himself into the warm cradle of your cunt. Your hands knead the hard muscle of his shoulders as you brace yourself for his thick and long size, always filling you completely. He watches you, enraptured, as your head tilts back and your eyes roll into your skull as the heavenly over-stimulation engulfs all of your senses and a satisfied moan escapes your kiss-swollen lips as he bottoms-out, pushing his pelvis to meet with yours.

He holds himself still, completely buried there for a blissful moment before he begins to move oh-so slowly, not wanting to get too excited or too loud. Arthur's hips curl sharply, rutting into you at the perfect angle to hit that certain spot. You are not in a position to be wild and passionate, but still, each thrust of his hips sends you to the moon and stars. Your conjoined breathing quickly escalates and becomes staggered and short as you forget the rest of the world even exists beyond your broken little bed. 

“It’s been way too long, way too long,” he groans as his tongue darts in and out of his mouth to taste the delicate skin of your shoulder as he pulls at your nightgown.

And you cannot even form words to answer him, but only nod in agreement with a wanton little whimper as your eyelids flutter and lips tremble while he fills you so completely. You have to crush your mouth into his thick shoulder in an effort to muffle yourself.

Suddenly desperate for more, you cage him in tightly with your hips and legs as he rocks his body atop of you, your muscles wrapping around him as much as humanly possible. Your arms fold around his massive shoulders, holding onto him as if for dear life.

“I love you, Arthur,” you whisper breathlessly into his temple, your lips catching on the tender skin there. The tremble of your voice is the whisper of an angel bringing him to heaven. 

“I love you, too, Y/N.”

Arthur’s head swims as he takes your hand that cradles his face, bringing it to his lips before he threads his fingers through yours and pins your hand next to your cheek as his other arm snakes around your head, holding you against his face while he continues to thrust into you.

“Look at me,” you plead into his ear as your teeth nibble delicately at his earlobe.

He lifts himself up onto his forearms again to look into your loving eyes, the palm of his hand brushing back the hair that has fallen into your serene face. You stare into Arthur’s eyes as he moves. You want to see his face as he makes love to you, desperate to find and rekindle that connection that you so covet. You want to hold onto this sublime moment, as you know you won’t have it for too long. You are like a pouty, spoiled child, not wanting to share your most precious possession with anyone else.

Arthur studies you as your eyelids quiver and skin shutters with each pulse of his strong hips, your mouth gaped open in soundless words, yet you still remain focused on him without faltering. You’ll be sore between your legs when this is done, for sure. You feel every thick, hard inch of him inside you as the weight of his body presses you deeper into the thin mattress with each stroke. Your legs fall open even more, your muscles unable to hold them up as your entire body goes limp like jelly in his presence. 

Rough hands continue to pinch and knead your ever-warming flesh. Your hand lifts up to run through his hair, curling through his unwashed locks that are long overdue for cutting before fisting and pulling gently. The feeling of your fingertips dancing across his skin before digging into the muscle grounds him as a reminder that this thing between you is real and he can forgo the trappings of the miserable situation that the gang currently finds itself in. He needs the taste of you on his lips. He needs the scent of you on his skin and your breath in his lungs. He simply needs you to survive. 

And as your bodies continue to move in perfect harmony, your eyes suddenly begin to blur with unshed tears. It isn’t until he hears a faint sniffle from you that Arthur registers that something may be wrong. 

“Why you cryin’, baby?” Arthur whispers in earnest, afraid something will cause your precious little world to crumble right here and now.

“I’m sorry, Arthur.” You try to give him your best sad little smile, shaking your head as if to dismiss your concerns. 

“For what?” He places a kiss to your nose, still buried deep within you and maintaining that hypnotic rocking motion overtop of you.

“I don’t want to be a burden to you. I don’t want to be yet another thing you have to take care of. I’m sure you wanted nothing more than to come in here and fall asleep for more than an hour, yet you have to take care of me. One more thing you have to do.”

He stops his gentle thrusts for a moment, his face turning to one of pain and disappointment and he finally has to dip his head and break eye contact with you, unable to look you in the face with his shame. It makes your heart ache. But what you do not realize is that those feelings are not towards you but to himself for making you feel that way. He wants to be both needed by, and wanted by, you. He needs to feel like he’s worth something to you, of all people. You are the constant in his life, the beacon of goodness that he can keep his eye on as he navigates the treacherous waters of this dangerous life. Arthur still feels like he’s a worthless, ugly, mean old man, but somehow you still find it in your beautiful heart to love him. So he will do whatever it takes to be worthy of that love. 

When he doesn’t say anything, but only responds with a slow, aggravated exhale, you panic, trying to quickly repair the damage. Arthur’s face goes dark and you can almost see the storm of hurtful thoughts swirling about in his mind.

“No, don’t you do that,” you whisper in desperate hushed tones as you collect his face into your hands. “Don’t you dare beat yourself up. As much as I want you all to myself, Arthur, I’m the one trying not to be selfish.”

“Selfish?” His eyebrows knit with confusion. “You’re the least selfish person I know. And besides, I can think of far worse things than being wanted by a woman such as yourself.” His hand caresses your face, his thumb sweeping across your rose petal lips. As he graces you with a feather-like touch, your own hands grab at his back even tighter with a need to pull him to you and hold him even closer. 

“You ain’t my burden, Y/N. You’re my refuge,” he continues. “It’s you, and it’s always gonna be.” He touches his forehead to yours, before rolling his lips to pepper the corner of your eyelids and temple. “What I have with you, I don’t want with no one else. Hear me?” A little demure smile tugs at the corner of his mouth.  “Shit, you’re all my heart ever talks about.” He gives you a little wink with a chuckle. 

A sob chokes in your throat as your heart soars to know that your connection is now restored. You were so afraid of losing him, that the life and love that you have fostered like a fragile candle flame was going to be extinguished. That he was going to wake up one day after all of this mess with Blackwater, the Pinketons and the swirling chaos of Colter and decide that this relationship was just too much for him to navigate. Arthur is a simple man with a lot of responsibilities. It would be easy to understand that he wouldn't want any distractions or additional demands laid upon him. 

You were afraid that you, yourself, were not enough for him. For Arthur is not the only one riddled with insecurities and doubt. He is not the only one who has been broken. 

When you close your eyes, it’s like you are at the center of the sun, protected from all the wickedness of the world, wrapped in your lover’s arms. You giggle and return to meet his lips again with a heated passionate kiss before touching your forehead back to his. 

“You’re killin’ me, Arthur.” Your resplendent smile sparkles back at him.

“That’s the fun of it, isn’t it?” he snickers as he suddenly resumes the snapping of his hips into your pelvis, picking up speed to rekindle the lustful exhilaration. His hips push heavily against yours, all the way down until the wiry hair of his groin entangles with your own, causing you to gasp, his name falling wantonly from your lips as you angle your hips again to meet his as his cock continues to ram into the bundle of nerves hidden within your core. At this point, you are sure that Hosea can hear you two out in the other room. But like Arthur, you really don’t care. And you're pretty sure that after your talk earlier, neither does Hosea. 

The way Arthur holds you is a promise, a confirmation, that for just one moment at least, the two of you don’t have to face the world alone. 

Your climax is quick to come after that, as you give in to all your temptation and desire. You fall heart-first into his soul, where he is eagerly awaiting you. You clamp your body around him as the euphoric wave hits you, and as he rides you through yours, his own orgasm hits him like a lightning bolt as he withdraws his swollen cock to rub against your abdomen, his great arms encircling your head like a serpent. 

The air in the little cabin room is now hot and sticky with your combined sweat and you take a moment to catch your heaving breaths. Arthur is always sure to take care of you, to take hold of the moment, but once he’s spent, it is you who manages the aftercare. You hold him to you as his body shudders from exertion, his chest heaving as his face seeks refuge once more tucked within the soft skin where your neck and shoulder meet. And this is the symbiotic relationship that elevates the two of you to another place. 

Once your conjoined hearts have settled, you bask in your after-glow, snuggled up to each other, afraid to let go. Arthur pulls you to lay upon his great chest, your ear right over his strong heart so that he can weave his fingers into your disheveled hair, a sense of pride knowing he’s the one responsible for the rumpled appearance. You toss your plump leg over his, entwining like a cocoon around him. You wince slightly when your hips pops back into its socket from being spread open so widely.  

After a few tenderly quiet moments, you draw yourself up, propping your head into your hand as your elbow bends next to his head so that you can gaze down into Arthur’s face and he meets your loving expression. 

“I still remember how I felt the first time I saw you.” Your head tilts as the memory of that fateful afternoon cascades back into your mind. His body shudders slightly as your fingertips absentmindedly ghost over his chest, slowly dancing along below his collarbone and swirling the chestnut colored hair that decorates his skin as you fall deep in thought. “Thought my heart was going to beat right out of my chest, broken as it was. You were so magnificent. Took my very breath away to look at you.” Your words are whispered like the ether, acutely holding his attention as you speak. You smile as you watch a blush dust his face up to his ears and he squirms as he nervously tucks his hand behind his head like a pillow.

But a darkness hovers over your glistening eyes as the worry and concern for him floods your mind. “But someone needs to take care of you, too, Arthur.” 

“You take care of me just fine, Y/N. You don’t need to worry about that. More than any man like myself deserves.” 

“Nuh-uh, don’t forget our deal, Morgan:  you look after me, and I’ll look after you.”

“Right.” His hand draws along your delicate spine, tracing your form, as he reaches for yours that rests on his chest, bringing it to his lips. 

“I feel like I’ve waited my whole life for you, Arthur. I don’t know what I’d do if anything happens to you-“

“Shhhh.” The back of his thick finger grazes your cheekbone ever-so softly. “Ain’t nuthin’ gonna happen to me, Y/N.”

He stares into your eyes, both of you knowing this is a promise that is impossible for him to keep. But still, you play his game and give into the heavenly little dream. You sniffle back the lump in your throat and give him a shaky little smile. 

But your private bubble is broken all too soon when you suddenly hear Hosea softly knocking on the door.

“Arthur? I hate to break up your fun in there, but your presence is needed elsewhere. Dutch would like a word.” 

A pained expression takes ahold of Arthur’s bearded face. “Can’t it wait?” he calls out towards the door. 

“‘Fraid not, son.” The regret in Hosea’s voice is palpable. It’s hard to be angry with the old man when you can tell by the tone and volume with which he speaks that the last thing he wanted to do was to rap his arthritic knuckles on that door.

“Damn it,” Arthur growls under his breath. “Alright, hang on,” he calls out to his old friend. 

He pauses but for just a moment before he rolls himself up to a sitting position next to you. But panic runs through your veins like fire in your blood. Your hands suddenly shoot out to hold his face protectively to yours, his cheek squishing slightly in your palms. 

“Please, Arthur. Please don’t go right now.” You don’t know why, but you are suddenly filled with a deep sense of dread, like something will happen to him if he leaves your sight. You want to feel safe, but you feel anything but that in this place. The only place you ever feel safe is with Arthur, and to have him pull away from you right now, after you’ve just touched each other’s souls, is like ripping a piece of your heart right out of your chest. Like a moth to a flame, you gravitate to Arthur, always desperate to be in his presence. 

The look on your face almost breaks Arthur’s heart. “I’m sorry, but I gotta go.” He pulls your hands from his face, but kisses the inside of your palm as he does as a heartfelt apology. 

You watch him with sad eyes as stands and he dresses once again, making himself presentable. 

“I don’t know what’s going to happen here,” he says uneasily as he threads his arms back through his shirt and begins buttoning it up again. “Something’s different, something’s…off. I don’t know.” His eyes begin to dart around the room as he tries to find the words rattling around in his now-scattered brain. “But whatever it is, things are about to get rough around here.”

You just nod silently in understanding, knowing full-well what that means for your beloved outlaw and his ever-dwindling safety. 

“I need to get ahead of this now, before it gets outta hand, Y/N. Understand?” His pleading eyes land on you, practically begging for your approval right now. 

“Yes. I understand, Arthur.“ You give him a weak, but loving smile. “Please, be careful.”

“I will.” He gives you a grateful nod and turns to head towards the door. But before his hand can even land on the doorknob, your voice calls to him again.

“Arthur?”

He turns back to meet your longing gaze from where you still sit on the bed, wrapped in the blankets that you just made love in. Your eyelids flutter, overwhelmed with emotions. 

“You’re mine,” you state so matter-of-factly. “No matter where you go, no matter what you do. You’re mine. Never forget that.” You are no longer shy to say it nor afraid to admit it. Your deep-rooted need to love him and be loved by him has taken such a tight hold of you that it makes your chest tight and desperate to never let him go. You have no need for romantic fantasies anymore and you are done with the nightmares of failed relationships.

Arthur pauses for only a moment upon hearing your proclamation and quickly strides back across the room to you. He places his large hand on the back of your head and he pulls your forehead to his lips. 

“I love you,Y/N,” he says again, his voice serious, making sure that you understand him.

“I love you, too, Arthur” you repeat back, holding his face once again, your thumb rubbing along his cheek as if committing this moment to memory. And with a sigh, you reluctantly concede to let him leave. “Now, go. Before they come in here looking for you.” 

You hold onto Arthur’s hand until he is out of your reach, your fingers extended before your arms fall dejectedly into your lap with disappointment as he pushes himself out the door. Your eyes linger on the wooden panel, now sitting still and quiet in its rusty hinges and splintered wooden frame. Your chest still tingles from where he lay atop of you, his heart beating in unison to your own, your breath mingled together. 

Normally you are left happy and content, reveling in your blissful and lustful stupor. And yet, a sense of darkness settles over you that you cannot shake. Arthur has always been pulled in a million directions at once, but that is the nature of his role with the gang and his importance to Dutch. But now, a whole new level of concern washes over you and you fear that the notorious outlaw may be getting in too deep. 

With a deep sigh, you look to where Arthur’s journal sits carefully nestled in his worn leather satchel. You smile softly, despite yourself. It is a symbol of his mind and his heart nestled in its fragile paper and tattered leather binding. 

Your future is uncertain and the road ahead will be laid with hardship. But you will wait for Arthur for as long as it takes. You will keep your shared bed warm for him and always have a hot cup of coffee waiting. For Arthur is worth the wait. He is where you will always find comfort and a sense of belonging. You no longer have a heart of your own for he is your heart. He is your life.You have finally met the person who has made you forget about yesterday and begin to dream of tomorrow. Arthur has the weight of the world on his shoulders right now and you will do whatever you have to in order to ease that burden for him, no matter if the gesture is great or small.

Your eyes drift their way to that same grimy window again, the one that you always seem drawn to. The moon sets high at its zenith like a giant eye to the heavens. The cold-hearted orb gleams against the black canvas of night, bobbing in and out of the clouds that try to grip it with an ethereal fist, and gifts its silvery shadows across the snow below. The banshee wind howls outside, the fingers of the tree outside scraping along the panes of glass.

Where others may see the fear in the darkness of the night, you strangely take comfort in it. With the night, the moon brings calm and tranquility, whereas the sun ushers in activity and chaos during the waking hours of daylight. Things are not always as they seem, often having double meanings and duality to their existence. ‘Good and evil, you cannot have one without the other’ you had told Arthur the day you met. And you firmly believe that. Where you have knowledge, you will also find oblivion. Where you see power, you can also find regret. And love, love takes on so many forms, both in darkness and in the light.

And the moon has taught you that there is still beauty to be found in the darkness.

—-------------------------------------

The next morning, you all pack up, piling into the wagons, to leave the bitter cold and head back down the mountain to meet whatever may come for the Van der Linde gang.

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*I tagged people who expressed interest in the continued story. If you’d like to be added or removed, please let me know. There are a few that would not let me link, so I apologize if this doesn’t ping some people. 

[wickerwax]

Down in the Mud (Codywan First Kiss Bingo 3)

The rainforest was both raining and foresting diligently. The slope they needed to climb was more of a complete vertical, and slick with wet leaf litter, ferny deadfall, and mud. It had been a long, stupid day, and was shaping up to be a longer, stupider night, and Cody was so tired.

First, the Chancellor’s “recommended” strategy - the one that General Kenobi had politely objected to, and been met with an uncomfortably smiling hostility that hadn’t been worth the pressing - had been almost comically short-sighted. The local inhabitants of this small tree-heavy moon in the back-end of nowhere-combat-significant were apparently on the fence about the Republic. Despite that lack of significance to the war-front (“Master Kenobi, are you suggesting that some members of the Republic are more important than others?”, ”...As Marshal Commander Cody correctly pointed out, there does need to be a strategic element to planning time-sensitive -”), demands had been made regarding a closed and private meeting that required the two of them (and only the two of them) to hike into the jungle to a remote location to negotiate. (Cody wasn’t prone to paranoia as such, but neither was he a stupid man, and even a stupid man would have considered something A Bit Odd by now.) Said locals had not showed at the meeting place.

Frankly, Cody had some doubts the locals existed at all.

Then the storm rolled in, petty with lightning, downright harassing with downpour, and just kind of an asshole with enough interference to knock out their comms.

And then the narrow little path rapidly turning to sludge had decided to take umbrage with being walked upon and sent both of them to the bottom of this ridiculous muddy slope where the stream was already looking as nastily-engorged as a Rodian leech.

Ruined his karking helmet against a tree on the way down. He’d refused the offer of his General’s robe, yanked the hood up over his head himself when the infuriating man seemed content to be rained on. They’d had a short, mostly non-verbal argument about who was most prepared to handle the current weather conditions and been left at an impasse to fume (Cody) and peer distractedly at the surroundings (Kenobi, somewhat uncharitably).

He sighed.

His comm hissed faintly with static.

General Kenobi turned from where he was studying the wet mass of mud and moss and slimy leaves, like there was any path less hazardous if only he frowned hard enough.

He had water dripping onto his nose from his hood. Cody wished he was miserable enough not to appreciate it. The last thing he needed to cap this day off was forgetting himself and where he stood with his superior officer - who even now was smiling ruefully at Cody. “It’s not looking good, I’m afraid, my friend. I hope you’ve a water ration saved, I don’t believe the sonics are going to prevail after this affair.”

“I feel reasonably confident that you’d share yours if I didn’t, sir.” he replied without thinking. Despite his flat voice, his General’s brows rose. Even with the hood shadowing his face, and the crap visibility, Cody could see his eyes twinkling. It was insufferable.

“Of course, Cody.” It shouldn’t have been possible for his voice to be both comfort and caress like that. “What’s mine is yours, you’re always welcome.”

Cody frowned harder.

“In any case, I think our best bet is this angle here – We should be able to step against the base of those root systems where they’re acting as stabilisers, and avoid the worst slips.” Kenobi pointed out his planned route and it – well, it didn’t look good. Good had been left behind on The Negotiator before they accepted this meeting. But it looked doable.

Halfway up, one boot lost to the sucking mud beneath the slimy dead-leaf carpet, Cody didn’t disagree with his previous assessment so much as add an asterisk amendment; It will be more miserable than you could have prepared for. He was missing at least two of his smaller plates, clawed off by aggressive vegetation, and his blacks had ripped somewhere around the small of his back. The thermostatic function had coughed out a pathetic little death rattle with it. Higher up the wind screamed, but down here it ripped past like the current of a river and brought the rain worming with it. He was starting to shiver.

General Kenobi wasn’t doing so much better. He had lost his robe to a nasty tangle of under-brush they couldn’t avoid, and had only barely escaped losing any further layers to the stars-be-damned combination of weather, visibility, and botany by what Cody assumed was some pinpoint – and, he gathered from the low, vicious stream of curses, difficult – application of his Force. Concentrating, his boots had slid on a mud-slick root, and Cody’s hair-trigger reflexes had caught him – but had knocked both of them several steps off of the not-track they were attempting to follow.

Cody squinted up at the dripping canopy, wishing for the night-filter on his helmet. He was all too aware of the warm hand steadying him, could all but feel the touch burning against the outside of his bicep.

“Cody, my dear – you’re shaking.”

Ah, well, maybe the infatuation wasn’t entirely to blame for once. “It’s a bit chilly, sir. Tiny hole in my blacks – it’s nothing. I’m fine.”

He nearly swayed when that warm hand was removed. Kenobi made a concerned noise and Cody had to grab for him before he could start pulling at his tunics. They stumbled back into the wet foliage-wall behind him – shaking hands having tugged too hard and tripped Kenobi into him. His hands were still circling his wrists when the greenery gave way.

Yelping, they fell through and hit moss and mud with an unpleasant squelch.

His head filled with noise as thunder cracked and rolled far above, and water crept into his hair and soaked into his blacks. His General was sprawled over his chest, silhouetted against the murky grey hole they’d fallen through. Cody’s fingers twitched around his wrists.

Kenobi lifted his head carefully and looked at him through the minimal light. “Commander, I can’t shift my weight properly without access to my hands.” he said, light and concerned.

Dim and distant lightning flashed. It flit through the layers of murk and tree and sheeting rain and lit Kenobi’s eyes silver at the backs. Perhaps a lesser man would find that unsettling. Cody, despite the ice making a home in his bones, tightened his grip instead of releasing it.

“Cody,” he sounded properly worried now. “You’re going to get colder lying on the ground like this.”

“I’ll move,” Cody said, “I just- In a moment.” His bootless foot felt like he’d replaced his toes with slush – regulation socks not built for this. His back was a creeping sheet of miserable damp.

“If you want to huddle for warmth, my dear, that’s very doable. But not with you in the mud like this, come now.” The Jedi sounded patient in the way that meant his eyes were all tight at the edges with stress. Cody loosed his fingers immediately.

“Sorry, sir.”

“Nothing to apologise for, my dear Commander. I am merely concerned for your well-being.” He levered himself off of Cody with a tidy sort of swiftness. Held his hand back out to assist. “Out of the mud now, there’s a lad.”

One hand gripping his General’s as he laboured upright, he scrabbled at his belt. Past his comm – hissing stopped entirely, ready light gone dim – and dug for one of his emergency glow-sticks. Cracked it against his thigh and let the pale green light seep into the – not a cave, not quite.

They were in a sort of root-bound nook – it looked like the soil had been especially rocky and the multitude of plant species had gone completely wild with their root systems to duracrete things in place – only some boulder or other had been dislodged, leaving a gap to fill up with the early-adaptor sort of growths.

It was almost tall enough to stand in. It was only about three arm lengths deep and irregular with it, which wasn’t huge but was perfectly able to fit the two of them huddled together - if they ducked heads, or crouched.

It was better than being face out in the rain. “Should we take shelter here?”

“Fantastic,” Obi-Wan replied, “Squatting in a muddy hole. This really is the mission that keeps on giving.” He went quiet, the green-glow shadow of him focused on the ground. “Ah, no, my mistake. It's quite moss-heavy, actually. There must be some sunlight in here regularly, Force knows how.” He dragged a hand over his face, then stared at it, looking dismayed. “Blast it all,” he hissed, “I’ve just gone and rubbed mud all through my beard, haven’t I.”

“In all fairness, General, we were already pretty much all mud already from that climb.” It was difficult not to do as the Jedi had mentioned earlier, and huddle into his warmth. Trying to control that urge, he instead was hit with a gut-rolling, full body shudder and began shivering in earnest. Kenobi’s attention was immediate and intense.

“Right. We can’t be standing all night long, that won’t do either of us any good. This moss is completely soaked, Cody, I don’t want you touching it any more than necessary-”

“I’ll just squat then, shall I?” Cody broke in sarcastically, narrowing avoiding bloodying his lip with the way his teeth were chattering. “I know the men call me thunder thighs, sir, but be reasonable.”

“In what world would I think that was an appropriate course of action, Commander," he said flatly. “No, I’m going to be your seat - my layers are still intact.”

Cody gaped at him. Thunder rolled again, just as distant, and the faint flash of lightning followed it. The green fell away in the face of it.

Rimed in silver, eyes gleaming, the Jedi's expression was set and determined.”"You’re the one with the ripped blacks, Cody, it’s a vulnerability - and besides, I have the Force to aide me. I will be the seat.” he repeated.

“I- Sir, that’s not-” Cody’s heart was thundering as much as the storm above was. It did not help with the shaking. “General.”

“There’s no use arguing, Commander, it’s just good resource allocation.”

“Resource-” Cody rasped, reeling. “Sir, you aren’t a resource.”

“Thank you, Cody, but I very much am, and you only have one boot. Neither of us want to keep walking in that mess until we have better light – and, with any luck, less active flooding occurring. So: sitting.”He wasn’t even looking at Cody anymore, was studying the uneven floor for the most strategic space to have Cody in his lap. For survival. While himself getting more and more wet because the moss in here was like a karking sponge.

“I’m going to at least take off my back plates then.” Cody fought the urge to pinch at the bridge of his nose. With the shivering, he’d probably just stab himself in the eye. He was about to be suffering enough. “It’ll be too uncomfortable otherwise, and you can put them down as some kind of layer between you and the ground.”

Kenobi was smiling audibly- now that he had his way, he thought grumpily. Like he’d let the man sit in an ice bath of moss just to keep Cody’s ass warmer - literally. “Just so, Commander. Thank you.” He paused, and Cody busied himself with his armour. “Do you need... assistance? With your back plates?”

It was possible. Shaking hands and all. “No, I have it.”

Semi-hunched in the enclosed space, it only took a few seconds to discover that Cody didn’t ‘have it’ as much as he’d like. His belt was manageable but the clasps slipped away from him. He bravely refrained from swearing, and shuffled around so his back was to the Jedi. Who, without making him ask, gently began unclasping it.

The immediate result was further chill – wet material no longer hidden by the armour and exposed to the air. Kenobi moved fast and neat, setting the main back plate down as a base, leaving him to remove the less awkward front bits on his own and stacking them tidily. He seemed entirely unperturbed as he folded himself down against the wall and motioned for Cody to sit.

He was all out of arguing. He’d take the mortification on this one. At least no-one was around to see it, and his- Kenobi wouldn’t be able to see his face.

Cody sank carefully into the cradle of his General’s crossed legs with his back pressed up against the Jedi’s front. He could feel his tunics and part of the smooth leather of his belt through his torn blacks, far warmer than his skin already. He tried not to squirm about it. It was not helped by the Jedi shifting to properly distribute his weight, his thighs flexing distractingly beneath Cody. “Ah,” he muttered against Cody’s shoulder, “One moment, this should help.”

He twisted and moved about while Cody tried to stay upright instead of leaning into him. Was this the worst possible way in which one of his fantasies could have come true? Yes, yes it was.

There was a satisfied “Got you,” behind him that made the shivering different, and worse. Next thing, the front of Kenobi’s tabards were being deftly arranged over his shoulders and down his chest – a damp, body-warm blanket tucking them close together. “Better?” came a murmur by his ear.

He made a low affirmative noise in his throat rather than speak. Nothing good could come of him opening his mouth right now.

Kenobi’s arms settled around his waist beneath the tabards and held without pressure. Warmth seeped back into him through his back and, despite his better judgement, Cody started to slump into him. The shivering lessened, and with it, his strength to avoid indulging. He snuggled back against his- the Jedi. His Jedi’s arms tightened.

“Better?” he asked again, quiet under the rush and roar of the weather outside. The emergency glow-stick had nearly faded out, a dull green touchstone near his feet.

“Better,” Cody agreed. “Sorry for - earlier assumptions. Not even assumptions, I guess, just. Snapping.”

“You have a temper very rarely, darling, and today has been a true comedy of errors. I can handle a little snapping. I know your experience of natborns hasn’t been one of whole-hearted support.”

He found his arms had naturally gravitated to covering Kenobi’s, fingers sliding together. “I know you though, sir. It wasn’t fair of me.”

He felt the huff of breath, warm on his neck. “Must we, Cody? Right now?”

“General?” he asked, prodding. His spine seemed to be in the process of moulding to his Jedi’s sternum. He adjusted his position slightly, getting a tiny, involuntary pant as his weight pressed back and down.

“Obi-Wan,” he replied, sounding vaguely frustrated. “Cody, a little -ah – care, if you please.”

Cody shifted fractionally again, and finally let his head drop back onto Obi-Wan’s shoulder. “If you insist,” he said. “I suppose the regs didn’t cover this one.”

“I don’t suppose they did.” His arms had tightened a bit while Cody was moving. It was becoming pleasantly warm where they were plastered together, even if Obi-Wan’s belt was too-hard in places. His toes were still thermally-challenged, so he tucked his socked-foot under his other knee.

The angle shifted him back again and Obi-Wan oof-ed. Cody turned his head and found himself face-first in his beard. “Sorry, si- Obi-Wan. Getting comfortable.”

Obi-Wan twitched. “No need to apologise, my dear. Just – please, stop moving.”

The green glow-stick had died out. There was the greyer shadow of where they had fallen through the vine-wall, the occasional glimmer of white from ever-more-distant lightning. For Cody, it was the darkness of Obi-Wan’s throat, the imagined sight of how red-gold threaded with silver would look from this close. He felt it bob with a swallow.

“Is the storm quieting, or am I imagining things?” Obi-Wan said, very quiet, so quiet he sounded like he was afraid to disturb Cody – like Cody’s weight pressing him into an armour plate and a muddy wall was fine, actually. Like Cody’s cheek pressed to the collar of his damp tunics was something he would choose.

Outside, the wind had dropped to a whimper. Trees rustled rather than crashed – the pit-pat dripping of water-logged plants instead of the active pattering of rain. A slightly too-fast heartbeat thrummed under his ear. “We might actually get to walk out of here.”

“I imagine we’ll meet search parties. Waxer wouldn’t wait any longer than overnight.” he didn’t raise his voice any but he tilted his head very slightly. Cody nuzzled in greedily. He felt Obi-Wan’s throat bob again.

“Waxer will rise to the occasion – he always does, that’s why I like him,” Cody answered, just as quiet. A tremor ran through Obi-Wan and Cody nestled further back immediately. Found that his belt wasn’t the only hard line pressing there anymore. He gripped Obi-Wan’s hands more firmly beneath the cover of the tabards and dared the tiniest roll of his hips.

Obi-Wan choked. “C-Cody-” His fingers flexed, twisting with his into his blacks.

“Obi-Wan,” he said, gentle, and thrilled at the second, more intense shudder. “Is this okay?” He waited for a moment, aware of the thudding pulse of the man behind him, the shallow too-quick breaths. “I’m all warmed up,” he continued, getting a thin wheeze, “I can move now, if you’d like.”

“Clarity.” Obi-Wan hissed. “Is that an offer, a suggestion, a threat? I can’t quite tell, Cody, given the grinding.”

“Exaggeration, sir – Obi-Wan. One little roll? Hardly counts as grinding. I could demonstra-” Cody tucked his face further in his neck, grinning, when Obi-Wan made a quietly furious noise to cut him off.

“Threats! Here I am, being at least a passing-grade sort of chair, and you-”

“The sort of chair, is exactly my point – are you the sort of chair that is okay with me like this?” Cody let a little of his insecurity into his voice, familiar with Obi-Wan’s style of derailment.

He deflated, and wiggled awkwardly against his back. Cody’s bulk didn’t allow him space to retreat, only pressed him harder against Cody. Both of them stifled groans. “It’s- Cody, I don’t wish to overstep.”

Cody sighed. Obi-Wan bit off a curse and dropped his head back against the wall. “Obi-Wan, if anyone is overstepping, it’s pretty obviously me.”

Obi-Wan clutched him around the middle and loudly breathed out. “No. No, you’re not. I’m just – surprised.”

“...so, I can keep going?”

“You may continue to wreak havoc on my self-control if you feel so inclined, my dear,” he chuckled, but he didn’t lift his head off the wall, nor manage to hide the strain in his voice. “I shall endure with enthusiasm.”

He considered his options. Rubbed his thumbs along Obi-Wan’s thoughtfully. “If I turned around, could you endure?”

“Depending on what you did next, likely not,” he replied dryly. “Am I to walk out of here with filthy leggings, Cody?”

“Your leggings are already filthy, what’s a bit more?” Cody said, pretending at reason.

“Other than the considerably more awkward placement? Nothing, I suppose. Do you want me to endure, Cody?” The hardness against his lower back was close enough to the tear in his blacks, he was tempted to slide down. But not more tempted than he was to turn around, and make both of them suffer. Still, it would be a long walk back.

“I want you to try.” He released one of Obi-Wan’s hands to reach back and weave his fingers into that thick copper hair. Nudged him into dropping his head forwards, and used the improved angle to trace a kiss over his cheekbone. Dried dirt flaked away under his lips. He shifted his grip, arched his neck, and brought their mouths together in a chaste, teasing kiss.

Obi-Wan’s lips parted against his, and his tongue flicked against Cody’s lip. He froze, then broke the kiss laughing. “Force, Cody, we’re filthy. Is that from my face?”

“It might be,” Cody said, grinning. “Is that a deal breaker?”

“It should be,” Obi-Wan told him, bringing his free hand up to frame Cody’s face in the dimness. “It really should be. But no, it’s not.”

“Good,” he said, and tugged him close again. “That wasn’t nearly enough of a taste.” He swallowed the next laugh, and the moan that followed. Let out his own gasp when Obi-Wan got his clever mouth on the line of his neck and made every nerve dance.

“Definitely demanding half your water ration,”Cody said breathlessly, twisting to give him more room.

“As I said, Cody,” Obi-Wan told him, doing something brilliant to the curve of his ear. “You’re always welcome.”

@codywanfirstkissbingo kiss three is dirty kiss, which unfortunately my little gremlin brain thought would be hilarious to take literally xD

[nyaskitten]

I wonder... so in DRs1e4, Lloyd says he recognizes the way Nya controls water, and in s5e1 of MoS, Wu says he recognizes that wind as being Morro's, right? So obviously different masters control the elements with different tactics, maneuvers, and methods, right?

So imagine Jay, a guy with no memory of his previous fighting style, controlling lightning in a way WHOLLY different from how he once did... will the ninja assume Jay died, and his element had (as they were established as being capable of in s15) found a new host?

[mrcompass]

A critic of the Legendary Bladers concept.

The concept of the Legendary Blader is central to Beyblade: Metal Fury, playing a significant role in shaping the third part of the MFB series. Through this, new characters, themes, lore, and ideas were introduced. In this analysis, I will explore the Legendary Blader concept by focusing on three key points.

The star fragment and bey obsolescence

The Star Fragment is obviously a central element for the Legendary Bladers, as it is what sets them apart from other Bladers. The Star Fragment serves as a convenient excuse to evolve the Beys of pre-existing characters: Gingka, Kyoya, Ryuga, and later Kenta. Evolutions in the MFB anime are actually quite rare. Unlike the manga, characters don’t evolve their Beys through progress or special events. In fact, it’s more common for a character to change part of their Bey (like Chaoxin), and sometimes characters even change them entirely (like Zeo and Toby). However, the latter case was due to their need for a fresh start after being subjected to Hades Inc. Masamune received an evolved version of his Unicorno thanks to Coach Steel’s modifications, but he did this precisely because he learned Gingka’s Pegasus had evolved and wanted to become a Legendary Blader. Finally, Ryuga was able to evolve Lightning L-Drago into Meteo L-Drago by conquering the dark power.

This illustrates that in the Metal Saga, Beys are an essential part of a character’s identity, and they don’t often change them. Beys are considered partners and are too deeply intertwined with the supernatural and the characters themselves (after all, the characters’ designs are based on their Beys) to be modified on a whim. For example, it would be strange for Kyoya or Gingka to ask Madoka to modify their Beys, given the values they hold for them.

This is actually a disadvantage for MFB, as the goal of the anime is to sell Beyblades. As a result, whenever you introduce a prominent Beyblade that you really want to sell, you have to create a new character. This might cause issues with character development, considering the number of characters already in the show and the limited number of episodes.

This is where the Star Fragment is a genius move: it allows the Beys of previous characters to evolve into the new 4D system. This way, they can present the new system as special. Additionally, it was already established that Beys are made of meteorite material, so a fragment of the same thing powering the Beys seems logical.

This doesn’t mean the concept is perfect, though. The first problem is that it is reserved for only a select few, and the evolutions only apply to pre-existing characters. This actually limits the new system to a handful of people: the Legendary Bladers, the Nemesis Bladers, Ryuto, and Masamune. The second issue is that it clearly sets these characters apart from all the others. Even though some of the Fusion characters were outclassed by Gingka and his group, as demonstrated in Battle Bladers, there was still hope for them to come back stronger and remain relevant in the show. After all, Tsubasa and Yu maintained consistent roles in later seasons, and Tobio even returned during the Destroyer Dome.

But now that we have a group of Bladers certified as the "strongest in the world" thanks to the Star Fragment, the hope for other characters to shine, surpass the Legendary Bladers with their own skills, or even create tension in a match has been demolished. The proof is that no Legendary Blader has ever lost to a non-Legendary Blader, and no holder of a 4D Beyblade has lost to a Blader with a non-4D Bey. For example, Yuki was able to beat Cycnus, and Johannes was able to outplay Dashan.

This perfectly illustrates what I call "Bey obsolescence," which refers to a new kind of Bey or system eclipsing the others within the same generation. For example, in Fusion, characters with Beys using plastic fusion wheels played a relevant part, yet in Metal Masters, these Beys are reserved for background characters. This kind of Bey was used by Kenta’s friends, whom we don’t see anymore after Fusion, as well as Hikaru and Hyoma. The latter two were strong enough to defeat Kenta at one point and participate in Battle Bladers, but they are the only participants of that tournament who have given up competitive Beyblading.

Of course, there’s the factor of their trauma, but Tsubasa overcame the dark power, and they could have had their roles switched with others in Battle Bladers. However, it didn’t happen, and I think the explanation is that it was simply convenient to reduce the presence of two characters using an obsolete system to make more room for new Bladers and Beys. As conspiratorial as it might sound, if you look at any team in the World Championship, none of them—not even Team Desert Blaze—used plastic wheels. This obsolescence is real, as seen in Zero-G, where the generic Beys use the Ray and Spiral fusion wheels, which were once used by prominent characters.

I think Metal Fury is painfully aware of this and tries its best to counteract it, mainly by showing close fights, like Gingka vs. Kenta in Beyster Island or Kyoya vs. Yu. In a way, it works. It’s almost impressive how these characters can hold their own with their Metal Fusion Beyblades against Legendary Bladers.Another point the anime insists on is that Gingka and Kyoya needed to learn how to use their new 4D Beys. Before their defeats against Ryuga, they often relied on mode changes, much like Johannes and the rest of the Nemesis Bladers did. It’s notable that Johannes, Pluto, Hershel, and Cycnus don’t have a special move, and for the latter three, they don’t even have a Bey-beast or aura. These are characters who over-rely on their Beys’ abilities rather than fully utilizing their potential. This is presented as the “wrong way” to use a 4D Bey. It’s also noteworthy that Kyoya and Kenta created their special moves by defeating one of these Bladers. So, in a way, the anime tries to tell us that while it’s great to have a powerful new Bey, if you just rely on mode changes, you’re not going to get very far.

So, even though the Star Fragment is a great idea for changing the Bey system, it kind of limits the possibility of characters benefiting from it. Especially considering that only four characters received drastic evolutions. It also confirms the tendency to leave characters behind, depending on their beys. Nonetheless the series finale addresses this issue by having all the Bladers transfer their power to Gingka.

The Legendary Bladers and Character Development

The second point that needs huglight is the legendary blader themselves and how they perforemd as characters. This is not about critizing the choice of these characters for the legendary blader postion but rather seeing if there is more to them than their title and if they are developped. Now characters developpment is all well and good but it is better if a charatcers is fleshed out so they can stand out more.

Gingka, Kyoya, Ryuga and Kenta

On the eleven people that received a star fragment only four were introduced in a previous season: Kyoya, Gingka and Ryuga and Kenta. All fo them were well established charcters and they all had their time to shine in the season. Kyoya had his little arc, Gingka put an end to Nemesis thanks to all the blader ijn the world and Ryuga and Kenta built a bond with each other. We actually saw more of Ryuga, how he trains and how he lives thanks to his tribulations. For Kenta this was the occasion to grow stronger but also distance himself from Gingka and the rest of the group, which allowed him to stand out more and gained independance. Bulding a relationship between Kenta and Ryuga was obviously surprising and welcomed. As the two had never really interacted with each other and are actually very different. We have Ryuga who was always strong and narcistic and Kenta who built slowly but surely his strenght and tries his best to help friends whenever he can. His journey with Ryuga is actually refreshing and unexpected. In my opinion it is the most succesfull things metal fury did. Reagarding their selections as legendary blader I think it what obvious they would be selected. Kyoya, Gingka and Ryuga are the strongest blader in the world with a lot of achievement to their credit like battle blader and tghe world championship. Kenta succeding to Ryuga as the lengadry blader of summer is a perfect consluon to his charcters journey not only in fury but in the whole series as well.

Yuki

Yuki was introduced very early in the season, being one of the first characters to appear in Metal Fury. Much like Kenta, Yuki starts off by being attacked, unable to defend himself until Gingka intervenes. They quickly become friends. After Kenta left the group, Yuki somewhat filled his role without replacing him. Yuki has elements that set him apart—he is determined, enjoys astronomy, and uses his passions to his advantage (like when he figured out how to open the door of Dynamis's temple). He is intelligent and loyal. However, his biggest weakness is his lack of confidence in himself as a Blader.

After he became a Legendary Blader, he participated in the Tag Team tournament alongside Gingka, and his confidence improved—a trend that continued over time. Overall, Yuki was a well-developed character; he had time to be properly fleshed out, and he actually grew during the season.

The main issue comes when it’s revealed that Yuki is a descendant of one of the Bladers who fought Nemesis in the past, which allowed him to gain the star fragment. Yuki’s reaction is one of pride and joy, as one might expect. However, for me, this was a missed opportunity for introspection. He’s supposed to be a clever and level-headed character, yet he never questions the influence of destiny on his life. Was he always destined to become friends with Gingka? Are his achievements only due to his ancestors? This could have led to Yuki affirming himself—not in opposition to his fate, but as his own person. This would have been a nice way to parallel Rago and Pluto, who mindlessly follow the prophecy of their own ancestor.

Aguma

Regarding the case of Aguma, I believe he also benefited from an earlier introduction compared to the other Legendary Bladers. He is also the first to join Nemesis, which sets him apart from the others. Aguma is part of the Beylin Fist, a rebel faction of the Beylin Temple. He wishes for his faction to get the recognition they deserve, which is why he allies himself with Johannes, who promised that in the "New World," the Beylin Fist would become the one and only school for Beyblade. This integrates Aguma and the rest of his clan into the world of MFB by using the pre-existing Beylin Temple.

Though Aguma does not develop a rivalry with Dashan, he does have an antagonistic relationship with Kyoya, which plays into Kyoya's solo arc. By being one of the antagonists during Metal Fury alongside Johannes, Aguma manages to stand on his own and gain some individuality. After his successive losses to Kyoya, King, and Tithi, as well as Pluto's betrayal, Aguma faces an internal crisis about what to do next: help the Legendary Bladers, do nothing, or side with Nemesis.

This moment of introspection could have been a positive turning point, if it hadn’t been interrupted in the worst way possible. Dynamis reveals that Aguma's ancestor sided with Hades in the past, before switching sides to join the Legendary Bladers after an encounter with Tithi's ancestor. Because of this, it feels like all of Aguma's choices have been dictated by fate, as he ends up replicating the same mistakes his ancestor did. This makes him seem more like a puppet of fate rather than a fully developed character.

King

King was introduced around the middle of the season. Like Yuki and Aguma, he participated in two tournaments, showcasing his performance to the viewers. The most important aspect of King is the friendship he built with Masamune. In my opinion, they complement each other very well, as seen during their battle against Hershel, and King quickly became a part of Team Dungeon.

Of course, King suffers from the same circumstances as the other Solar System Bladers, but what counteracts this is his genuine love for Beyblade, much like Masamune and Gingka. Additionally, his ancestry never got in the way of his actions or choices, and he didn’t seem to place much importance on it. Even if he wasn’t a Legendary Blader, he still had a unique Beyblade, Variares, that can spin in both directions, which already makes him stand out.

In summary, King is a very unique, iconic, and well-integrated character.

Dynamis

Dynamis first appeared in the arc just before the Beyster Island tournament, and he didn’t participate in it. Just like in the manga, he doesn’t have much screen time compared to the previous Legendary Bladers. I think this is due to the fact that his primary purpose is to deliver the lore behind the Legendary Bladers, making it harder to dissociate him from that role.

Later on, Dynamis gets possessed by a dark power, which might be an allusion to Tsubasa’s dark power arc. This is fitting since Zeus, represented by Dynamis's Beyblade Jupiter, has an eagle as its symbolic animal.

Dynamis’s main problem is that he doesn’t have any real meaningful relationships with other characters, making him feel more like a plot device.

Chris

Chris was also introduced fairly late in the season, but fortunately, he has a backstory. He suffered a similar situation to King, being ostracized and abandoned because of his strength, which alludes to the fact that Legendary Bladers in the manga aren’t allowed to participate in tournaments due to their overwhelming power. Unlike the other Bladers of the four seasons, Chris wasn’t introduced in previous seasons, nor did he have an impressive record before winning Beyster Island. He suffered from unfortunate circumstances that prevented him from going to the World Championship.

However, Chris brings with him an interesting concept—that of a mercenary Blader. This is relatively new to the series, and it seems to fit well in a world where Beyblade holds such a significant place. It’s almost strange that we didn’t see more variations of what a Blader can do outside of just fighting in tournaments. Unfortunately, this concept was introduced far too late to be fully explored, especially considering Chris seemingly gives up the mercenary way. After he lost to Gingka and sided with the Legendary Bladers, it appears Chris turned over a new leaf, but since this happened just before the final fight against Nemesis, we didn’t have enough time to appreciate his development.

Tithi

Tithi was the last Legendary Blader to be introduced. What’s original about his introduction is that, unlike the others, he isn’t found by Gingka but by Kyoya and Yu. From the start, we get a good sense of his personality—he’s a shy kid who just wants friends to play Beyblade with, a feeling Yu understands well. Their bonding was very sweet to watch and helped reintroduce Yu into the new season.

During battle, we see that Tithi has a joyful personality. He can be unpredictable and a little wild at times. Of course, who could forget him annoying Kyoya by calling him "Tatakyo/Yoyo"? Tithi later battled Aguma, which contributed to Aguma's doubts (along with Pluto’s betrayal).

Overall, I think Tithi was fleshed out well, but the problem is that he was introduced so late in the season that it feels like he was mercilessly thrown into the Nemesis crisis. Think about it—he was just a little kid minding his own business, finally finding a friend to play Beyblade with, and less than two days later, he’s forced to face this universe's version of Satan. However, his potential was clearly wasted, especially considering he stayed with Dynamis, with whom he had almost no interactions.

Rago

Rago is one of the main antagonists of Metal Fury, and he is also the only Legendary Blader to be truly evil. He appears in the latter part of the season, which seems at odds with how the anime presents him—as the ultimate villain Gingka and the rest must face. Rago is merely the man who wields Nemesis, nothing more and nothing less. He shares similarities with previous main Blader antagonists like Ryuga and Damian by being narcissistic, boastful, and insulting. However, Rago's issue is that he didn’t have the same buildup as Ryuga did in Metal Fusion. He feels like a character pulled from a catalog, especially considering that he appears alongside the Nemesis Bladers.

Though he endangered the entire world and kills Ryuga, there’s no progression to his evil actions. The problem is that we already know he wants to destroy the planet and end all life. In contrast, Ryuga's actions in Metal Fusion became increasingly unhinged, making us fear and anticipate his next move. However, Rago has something that sets him apart from other villains—he's not Gingka's villain but Ryuga's. There isn’t much of a parallel between Gingka and Rago. The Legendary Bladers of the Solar System, much like Rago, are bound by fate, while Ryuga is different.

Ryuga wanted to bury his past in the Dark Nebula, particularly the time he was possessed by L-Drago. Then, in Metal Fury, Doji returns alongside a new Blader who controls a seemingly unstoppable dark artifact that just absorbed L-Drago’s power. Ryuga feels insulted, but the main reason he fights Rago is because he sees himself—Metal Fusion Ryuga—in him and wants to destroy that part of himself. Additionally, Rago is a threat to his supremacy in the Beyblade world, so if Ryuga wants to live up to his title, he must either fight him or die trying.

Overall, I think Rago is a pretty solid antagonist. He serves his purpose, and while his fight with Ryuga meant more for the latter’s character, it allows Rago to be more integrated into the story.

Most of the new characters who became Legendary Bladers serve their purpose well; they are unique characters. Some are more integrated than others into the wider MFB canon. However, they all would have benefitted from more time to be fleshed out, particularly Dynamis and Chris. The new lore surrounding them adds more substance to the series, but at the same time, the over-reliance on it and on fate hurt some of these characters badly (like Yuki and Aguma). The main problem is that Metal Fury was 12 episodes shorter than the previous two seasons. With that amount of additional episodes, the new characters could have benefitted greatly from further development. In summary, this is a big waste of potential, and most of them don’t succeed at being more than just Legendary Bladers.

Gingka Hagane and the concept of fate.

The concept of fate and supernatural forces has always been present in Metal Fight Beyblade. In Metal Fusion, we had Ryutaro, who had visions about the future, while in Metal Masters, Julian and Damian used a vague concept of fate to justify their positions and why they should win. Despite this, Gingka was able to beat them all and even overcame fate. Ryutaro had a vision of an apocalyptic future, but after his losses to Gingka in Battle Bladers, he saw that a different path was possible. Madoka's computer predicted that Gingka had less than a 1% chance to win against L-Drago, yet he succeeded. Finally, let's not forget that King Hades' prophecy hadn’t fully realized itself because Gingka and the whole world defeated Nemesis. The point is that Gingka has a habit of triumphing over fate and preconceived ideas. For him, being a blader is about fighting with his heart, loving his Bey, and getting back up when he loses—it’s how he becomes powerful. Yet, in Metal Fury, some of the most powerful bladers are those who have special ancestors and a star fragment in their Bey. The reason the star fragment chooses those particular bladers is related to fate, as the attribution was tied to the prophecy and is known by Dynamis. This use of the concept of fate and predetermined power in Metal Fury fundamentally undermines the themes that were built in previous seasons of Metal Fight Beyblade. Gingka’s story in Metal Fusion and Metal Masters was about defying odds, challenging fate, and rising through sheer willpower and love for the sport.

The concept of the Legendary Blader brought some fresh elements to Metal Fury but ultimately constrained the series. While it introduced new characters and deeper lore, the overreliance on fate limited the potential for character growth and reduced the tension in battles. Characters like Yuki and Aguma were overshadowed by their predetermined roles, while others, like Dynamis and Chris, suffered from lack of development due to the shortened season. While there were positive developments, such as the evolving relationship between Ryuga and Kenta or the bond between King and Masamune, Metal Fury ultimately fell into the same trap as its predecessor by superficially handling an expanded cast. The season reflects a broader fatigue with the Metal Saga, struggling to balance the introduction of new elements with the need for meaningful character development.

[ilivingonmyway]

The "Jay is Lloyd older brother Au" that I created, it's got three different versions but I gonna with the original one:

So, Jay is Lloyd's older brother, they have a difference of more or less 5 and a half years old and they are both adopted by Ed and Edna (Jay is the only one of the two who knows that the Walkers are not their biological parents).

Unlike Canon, Jay is not one of the ninjas (he still receives training but he never reached his True Pontential and no one but Master Wu knows that he "is" a ninja). He's been there at Spinjutzo Monastery since the beginning but not as a frontline hero, he "works" there for Master Wu as a kind of assistant and resident mechanical engineer (this is just a facade. Wu want to keep an eye on his nephew the Master of Lightning and Jay wants to practice his powers so he doesn't run the risk of hurting anyone or being discover) Nya has been in "his" place, being the fourth ninja on the team since she was rescued from Garmadon (she ends up unlocking her true potential much earlier in the story).

No one but Master Wu know's where's the Lightning Elemental is, Wu says that they have been "missing" since the previous Lightning Elemental, Libber, passed her powers.

And Lloyd is there, but not as the little boy from Darkleys who wants to follow in the footsteps of his dad a villain, but as a boy who wants to make his parents and older brother proud. So one day, as Jay is leaving his monthly visit to his parents, Lloyd follows Jay to the Monastery, intending to receive the same fighting lessons as the ninjas. And everyone's like "Who the hell is this kid? He broke into the Monastery and wants to play ninja." And Kai, being Kai, does the same thing as Canon: leaves Lloyd on the roof of someone's house, unaware that Lloyd is Jay's younger brother. As a result, Lloyd is angry as hell with the ninjas, and somehow does the same stupid thing as in canon, freeing the Serpentines.

Lloyd almost immediately realizes what a screw-up he's done and sets out to find Jay, but is captured and held hostage. Meanwhile, at the Monastery, Jay discovers that Lloyd was there but Kai left him on the roof of some house (??) and becomes furious with the fire ninja, to the point of yelling at him. Master Wu hears the commotion and learns that his nephew Jay's little brother was there and that he wanted to train to be a ninja, and being the "wise Master" that he is, Wu tells them to go after Lloyd and bring him to the Monastery he doesn't miss the angry look Jay gave him during this part.

And then they come across the whole Serpentine situation, with Lloyd as a hostage, they try to fight but fail due to being unprepared for battle. The Cobras end up escaping with Lloyd in tow, screaming desperately because he wants his older brother and Jay panics because he wants to help his little brother but he can't do something without ending up revealing his powers Jay has extremely high morals here, he had made a promise that he would never use his powers, much less be a ninja, due to his... Family situation.

They end up losing the fight and losing Lloyd.

Jay is completely devastated.

And then the whole shit starts.

Welcome to StaticEnergy Brothers AU.

Please says it looks so cool like I want to look.

(maybe I'll do other posts about the other two versions of this, but... It's just a "maybe")

[fiberturkey89]

Okay, so I lied. Headcanons for all the Ninjas with Dragons living in the Monastery.

I decided to throw in a redeemed Morro, too, because like.. think about it. Wojira duo plus a Lightning Dragon.

Send help. I love the Dragons Rising Dragons.

While Jiro and Nya do go for flights around the mountains as stated in previous post, one of the more "weird" things they do together is sit outside in the courtyard when its raining and windy, Morro often joins them despite having passed on his Elemental Power to Euphrasia.

Jiro often uses his wings to provide cover for the ex-Elemental Master of Wind, while Nya prefers to sit away from the cover where she can feel the downpour. Jiro simply likes the thunder and lightning that boom, it's comforting.

And it's also when the Lightning Dragon is at his most alert. Whenever Nya or Morro become despondent, he nudges them closer so they can feel his warmth to ground them back. It's not something they like, but it becomes unbearable to ignore the call of the Elements. Even with Vengestone braces.

Riyu sometimes sits with them. He and Jiro talk to each other about their lives in the mountains before The Merge. Vigor(The Adult Mountain Dragon) also does sit with them occasionally. They're more of a sit in the cave and watch though.

Wyldfyre, Kai, Torchspark(Fire Dragon from Imperium), and Heatwave love sun-bathing in the summer. Wyldfyre talked Kai into it, and the big oaf won't admit he likes it. Sometimes, he brings melons for the Dragons and sandwiches for him and Wyldfyre.

The four of them also enjoy fireworks, too, it scratches something in their brains, you know? (They also love firecrackers, but keep them away from Wyldfyre as she often tries launching them into the air before igniting them).

Lounging around in hotsprings is also a very nice time between the four of them after a hard days work. Wyldfyre usually ends up falling asleep, so she as to stay on Heatwaves back.

Despite being both Ice Elementals, Glacier and Zane prefer staying inside! Pixal was the one who usually dragged Zane out of the house during winters, and without her, he is far, far more hesitant to go out without any of the fire Elementals.

While they stay inside, Zane often simply retells Glacier stories of him and Shard, who the Ice Dragon recognizes and, in turn, tells stories about her own realm, being the Never Ream(Where she and Jiro come from, actually) Her own parents had known the sires to the guardian of the Shurikens of Ice.

Rockside and Cole often have loads of fun creating rock towers or buildings together, Geo often comes in, too, to make sure their projects don't break. One of their favourite creations is actually a small rock castle made for Fritz and Spitz.

As the name goes, Rockslide has fun going down hills. He loves mudslides and avalanches, often joined up by Sora, Wyldfyre, Riyu, and Arin alongside Kai(adrenaline junkies, the lot of them Though Nya is no better alongside Lloyd).

Riyu and Zanth enjoy playing tag, and they often drag Sora and Arin into the mix alongside the Fritz and Spitz. (Zanth and Riyu have to be careful, though, because Heatwave WILL chew them out for playing too rough).

[lightning-water]

i don’t think Jays amnesia is accidental or legitimate

here’s why:

Jay knows his name his full name, implying that he knew it even with memory loss, and you might be thinking couldn’t the agents just tell him his name if he didn’t remember? well no one in the administration seemed to know who LLOYD GARMADON WAS until they broke zane out, they didn’t even Acknowledge Zane as a ninja when they arrested him implying that they have no idea who THE HEROS OF NINJAGO are

He knows he had lightning powers but nobody else knows this, which also connects to the administration didn’t know who jay was before or they would’ve informed him of his powers themselves and he would’ve known that they knew but he makes it seem like it’s a bad thing like bad things happen to Elemental Powers so if that is true why would they put somebody in the administration knowing that they have Elemental powers?

Still has similar personality traits to before (video games) so the memory loss didn’t cause Jay to completely loose himself, he still holds the similar traits to before. this seems more like someone took out the people and things he was doing and not erasing him as a person? idk if that makes sense but when Nya and Zane got their amnesia they blindly trusted people, the first person they saw who told them things and they believed them and they kind of acted differently but also they had no idea who they were they couldn’t even remember their name, so it just makes Jays amnesia more purposeful and thought out

he can’t remember anything before the administration- now he remembers all of his life at the administration but not a single thing before that? Also this tells us that if he woke up at the administration with no memory why would they give him a guy who knows nothing but his name a good position like a manager? it just doesn’t make sense unless they brought him in specifically, and why nothing before the administration, what happened to his mech? Did it crash and if so how did he not remember waking up at the crash and going to the administration, did they take him from the crash sight? And Nya told Zane that the merge was years ago no matter how many years it’s been wouldn’t Jay had to have had some sort of memories come back like anything? a face? a single memory? a name?

i had this theory i posted about where he also woke up at a monastery copy because i think there’s more out there because he walked right into where Bonzle was with no backup, none. Why would they send in an agent alone unless he didn’t say where he was going and instead just went along with his muscle memory and he was going to where Bonzle came from too so he knew where he was going he did not look lost once.

My ending point: somebody or something erased Jays memories it wasn’t just an accident or a bump on the head and i think most fingers are point to the administration/administrator, because it’s just weird timing that it’s just the administration that he remembers along with just his name, it just kind of seems thought out like they wanted him for a reason or something. There are things about himself that he knows, he doesn’t seem to be having an identity crisis so it’s almost as if someone picked and chose which things he could remember and which he would have to forget like people and his previous life. All the agents seem like they have something off about them too, maybe it’s requirement that they examine people who they believe would be good agents and erase their memories and take them which is why nobody questions it, it’s just what they know. Or maybe the Administrator works for Ras too and gives Ras amnesiac Elemental Masters for him like where did Tox come from? and why does it look like she’s on the bad guy side now? Maybe Ras’ plan B was getting other elemental masters to fight for him in the tournament of sources instead of the Forbidden 5 and to do that he had the administrator provide them and erasing their memories knowing that they wouldn’t willingly help Lord Ras.

Anyway that’s just a few (a lot) of things i think about at night

[lightning-and-dragons]

Here's a random thought I had...I'm not sure if anyone else has thought of this before but...

What if Libber, the previous elemental Master of Lightning, was the Administrator?

What if, for reasons unknown, she left Jay at the Walker's Junkyard and left to go to the Realm of Madness, where she ended up staying? In that time, she became a leader and found comfort in the control she held over the people there.

After the Merge, she could've found Jay floating in one of those voids between realms, realized that he was her son, and took him into the Administration.

Maybe, after talking with him and learning more about the son she didn't know, she learns that he isn't who she wants him to be. She herself doesn't believe in all of the values and morals Wu taught Jay, the morals that Jay stands for. Maybe she doesn't like the man Jay had become. Maybe she's disappointed in who he is.

So, she ordered that his memories be removed. With his memories gone, Libber could mold him into the son that she wanted, the son that she couldn't raise herself but could change now.

She could take away the pieces of him that she didn't like. She could replace those pieces with her own morals and motivations. He would be like an empty canvas, waiting for someone to tell him what was right and what was wrong. And she would be the one to tell him.

She could turn him into a fine agent, a perfect son, one that she was proud of, completely removing any trace of the son she didn't want.

But even after he lost his memories, Jay always felt like he was something more than an agent, that he was meant for more than just filing paperwork. And that was something that Libber couldn't take away.

[dragonform]

Why did Jay's mother give him up?

So we know Jay's parents abandoned him, and Ed and Edna adopted him, but we don't know why. According to the Ninjago wiki, there's a scrapped concept that she was running away from someone when she left Jay at the junkyard, but even that's unconfirmed.

We do know though, that Jay says that "the gift of Jay" is what his mother used to call him. It's a throwaway joke, but I like to think that it's a clue. We also know that although Cliff Gordon was a successful movie star, he had a corner of his secret man-cave dedicated to Jay, meaning that he had been tracking the blue ninja's adventures. Tommy Andreason (Ninjago creator) also said that having a wife and child would get in the way of his womanising image.

That makes sense, but then why did the previous Elemental Master of Lightning (Libber Gordon) give up Jay? My personal headcanon was that she actually knew Ed and Edna, having helped them previously. Perhaps they dearly wanted a child of their own, but couldn't. We can see by the time the Ninja were teenagers that Jay's parents looked a lot older than Cole's, or Kai's. So they were of advanced age and were childless. Libber might have felt that she would be unable to give her son a normal childhood, thought she must have known that he would inherit her powers eventually. So she gave up her child to the couple she knew who loved children but couldn't have any, knowing they would dote on him. The gift of Jay.

Would Jay have been happier with Libber? We don't know, but I would guess not, given her unconventional relationship with Cliff. This way, Libber and Cliff Gordon gave Jay the happy normal childhood they wanted for him, and made an old couple very very happy indeed, and that is just beautiful.