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boosmidnighthour · 10 months ago

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Uh... nickname headcanon time? I guess?

For a while, I needed to have Ninjago nicknames ready in my brain whenever I wrote. Then I would have to remember the ones the fandoms made up. Then I decided "fuck it; just make a list so that it's ready to go."

So, here's random list that I have slowly gathered up. As you can see, I list the character, and then I'll put the nicknames that they'll call the others below that. Some nicknames I am well aware exist, but don't like (example: "Pebble" for Cole) or my creative juices die for characters I rarely write about (literally anybody that's not the OG 4), so this is not a comprehensive list of every nickname within the fandom. Just ones that I like and would like to use at some point.

If you have any other ideas, comment below. Have fun!

Divider created by drawloverlala!

Cole

Zane: Frost/Frosty, Frosted Flakes, Snowflake, Tin Can (rarely), Pinky, Snake Jaguar/Jaguar (occasionally), Frostbite, Ice Cube

Jay: Zaptrap, Motormouth, Zip/Zipper, Loud Mouth, Jaybird, Bluejay, Lightning Bug, Sparky, Bluebell (bruise), Chatterbox, Fruit Loops (paired with Kai), Jitterbug

Kai: Flicker (lava), Hot Head, Emerald (lava), Lover Boy, Firefly (lava), Sunshine (lava), Fireball, Fruit Loops (paired with Jay), Firework, Hair Gel

Zane

Not one to give nicknames unless in a relationship with them or as an inside joke.

Cole: Rocky (occasionally, Rocky Dangerbuff), Honey (glacier), Angel (glacier)

Pixal: Detective (occasionally)

Jay

Sometimes goes into a southern dialect thanks to his upbringing. (Ex: dearie, hun, etc.) (Zane may eventually start picking up on it himself. Nicknames may also be game references.

Cole: Rocky, Earthbound, Cake Pop (bruise)/Cake Pops (bruise, with child), Boulderbrain

Zane: Bucket o' Bolts (rarely), Mr. Mint (Candy Land), Vanilla Ice (rarely), Ice Bucket, McFlurry, Frostbite (techno), Icee, Gumdrop, Jack Frost

Kai: Air Head, Firefly (plasma), Fireball, Firestorm, Star/Shooting Star (plasma), Hot Shot, Sunshine

Nya: Stardew (jaya)

Lloyd: Goldilocks

Kai

Cole: Rocky, Big Guy/Big Lug/Big Boy, Sweetheart (lava), Fruit Basket, Magma, Boulder/Boulders, Beefcake, CoCo (lava), Dirt Clod

Zane: Sweetheart (opposite), Nitro (nitroglycerin), Z, Bird Brain

Jay: Lightning Bug (plasma), Baby/Babe (plasma), Glow Bug, Loud Mouth/Blabbermouth/Motormouth, Sparky, Sparkplug, Lover Boy, Thundercloud (plasma), JayJay, Bird Brain

Nya: Blastoise, Lapras

Nya

Pokemon nerd. Is slowly getting Kai in on it.

Zane: Glaceon

Jay: Jolteon, Thunderbolt

Kai: Blaziken, Flareon, Charizard, Torchic

Lloyd: Leafeon

Skylor

Nya: Dewdrop (amberphoenix)

How is it that I came up with more ideas for Nya and Skylor than Lloyd? I mention them even less than I do him. I might eventually add to this, but only if I get significantly more ideas.

I'm just gonna tag all the ships because they're mentioned. I don't even like a few them. Sorry!

#ninjago #glaciershipping #plasmashipping #lavashipping #oppositeshipping #technoshipping #amberphoenix #bruiseshipping #jaya #polyninja #non work

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lloydskywalkers · 4 years ago

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chrysanthemum

1/2 of the fics i wrote for the 10th anniversary zine!! if you haven’t checked it out yet please do @ninjaneverquit-zine , everyone worked so hard and did such a wonderful job, i’m beyond honored to have been included <3

I may not have been in the fandom since the start, but ninjago means the world to me - it’s gotten me through some of the worst times and pushed further in writing than i thought i’d go, and the fandom’s been a particularly bright light in my life since i’ve joined 💕and of course i can’t not celebrate that by writing for the light of my life lloyd garmadon, so here’s me crying over the garmadons anniversary-style :’D

Garmadon’s son has only been on the earth for twenty-four hours, and he’s only been Lloyd for nineteen, but he already finds himself terrified of the tiny, living thing he cradles in his arms.

“He’s so small,” he tells Misako, eyebrows furrowed in concern. “Is he supposed to be this small?”

Misako, who’s been answering questions similar to this for the better part of the morning, rolls her eyes. “He’s fine, Garmadon. He was born a little early, that’s all.”

Not as reassured as he should be, Garmadon returns his gaze to his son. He’s sleeping now, deathly still in his arms, and he resists the urge to wave a hand over his tiny face, if only to feel the small puffs of breath he knows must be there. He brushes a wisp of hair from his head instead, marveling at how pale it is.

“He’s got my father’s hair,” he murmurs.

“I don’t care, Garmadon, we’re still not naming him after the man.”

It’s Garmadon’s turn to roll his eyes. “I never said that. I said Montgomery was an unacceptable name to burden my son with.”

“Oh, your son.”

He misses the rest of her retort as Lloyd fidgets briefly, tiny features screwing up as he shifts. A flash of lightning from outside brightens the room, and Garmadon pulls Lloyd closer reflexively. The thunder crack follows soon after, and Garmadon flinches, the thick smell of rain filtering through the open windows. He can already see thick droplets sliding down the hydrangeas Misako’s growing in the windowsill, drowning the pale flowers. It’s been pouring all week, typhoons hitting the coast with gusto as they always do this time of year. Garmadon doesn’t like it — his son is much more suited for the sun and all its brightness, not the grey-skied downpour of thunderclouds.

Lloyd hardly reacts to the downpour, having gone still and silent in his arms once again. Garmadon’s heartbeat quickens. He shouldn’t sleep this much, should he? He doesn’t remember Wu being like that, but he was so young when Wu was born, and it was so long ago, and he can’t feel for Lloyd’s breathing now because the breeze pouring through the window’s too strong, and—

A soft hand sets on his shoulder. “Here,” Misako sighs, guiding Garmadon’s hand to rest gently over Lloyd’s chest. “Feel. That’s a heart, going strong.”

Despite his hesitance, a deep-rooted part of him still desperately afraid his touch might hurt something so small, Garmadon does so. Lloyd’s heartbeat is rapid and as fragile as a bird’s wing, but undeniably there. A small, living thing.

Something warm curls in his chest, and Garmadon thinks he might understand his father’s delight in creation — in things that live.

Not, of course, that his father has ever created anything so perfect as Lloyd, but Garmadon can credit him for having tried.

* * *

It’s weird, having a dad.

Not the concept of having a dad — Lloyd’s bragged enough about being the son of Lord Garmadon to at least get that part. But actually having him here, a living, breathing person who looks at Lloyd and cares—

It’s weird, that’s all. Not that it’s a bad weird.

“You need to wrap your hands, before you go hitting things like that,” Garmadon scolds gently, twisting gauze around Lloyd’s bruised, swollen fingers. “The others can show you how, for training. They should have shown you earlier.”

Lloyd bites his lip. He doesn’t tell his dad that the bruises are less from training, and more from pointlessly banging on bars in an attempt to get on Pythor’s nerves. It sounds silly, compared to the way his dad swept in like a big hero and took out all the snakes in single swipes.

A big hero. Lloyd wonders if the others will ever see him that way, too.

His hand twinges as the gauze pulls tight, and Lloyd sucks in a sharp breath. Garmadon flinches, drawing his hands back.

“I’m sorry,” he says, quickly. “I keep forgetting — you’re so small.”

Lloyd makes a face at that. Small? “I’m not that short,” he grumbles. “I’ve grown lots.”

“Of course you have,” Garmadon amends. “I only—”

His expression twists, and Lloyd’s stomach drops. There’s that look again.

“I’m sorry,” Garmadon repeats, sounding downtrodden.

Lloyd purses his lips. For all his bragging, he’s never really thought much about whether he likes his family or not. It’s hard, when you don’t have one around to like. Watching the way his dad worries and his uncle walks around all stone-faced now, Lloyd’s not sure he should like it. He likes Uncle Wu, of course, and he loves his dad, but—

He hates the way they all walk around like they’re preparing for a funeral. His dad’s funeral, his funeral, whichever it ends up being. It’s stupid. Lloyd’s lived on the streets for months, and in Darkley’s even longer. He wouldn’t have minded walking around like he’s doomed for misery then.

But now? When he’s got people who care, and a family?

Lloyd sets his mouth stubbornly. He doesn’t know much about destiny, or the prophecy, but he knows he’s not about to lose this. Not when he’s come so far, when he’s so close to having — to being someone worth having around.

No funerals, Lloyd promises himself. He can see this prophecy through — they both can, the two of them. You have to be alive to be a family, right?

“It’s okay,” he finally replies. “I’m alright, dad.”

And he’s gonna stay that way.

* * *

When Garmadon had thought about the final battle in the past, he’d expected the darkness. The destruction, the pain.

He hadn’t expected to survive.

“So you’re really giving up fighting, then?”

Glancing up at Lloyd, taller now yet still small enough to not quite fit his bright golden gi, Garmadon finds survival a very welcome surprise.

“Yes,” he says, returning his gaze to the flowerbeds Misako’s helped him put in the monastery garden. They’re coming along well, despite the recent fits of bad weather, and they do a fine job of making the monastery look homey. Unthreatening.

He hopes, at least.

“I think I’ve done enough fighting, for my part,” he continues. He gives Lloyd a wry look. “I’m not sure Ninjago could take much more of it from me, anyways.”

“I dunno,” Lloyd says. “It’s been getting pretty boring.”

Garmadon snorts. “Boring is something you should appreciate, son. Excitement isn’t always good.”

“No, but it isn’t bor—dull,” Lloyd mutters, crouching down to study the flowerbeds. Garmadon shakes his head in reply, sighing. He remembers being his son’s age once, yearning for the next thrill, even if it feels ages away now.

He’s got a whole lecture on appreciating the quiet moments on the tip of his tongue, too, when Lloyd speaks up again.

“We used to have these flowers at Darkley’s,” he says, tilting his head as he studies them. “Some of the boys tore them all up and threw ‘em at the window, but they were pretty before that."

Garmadon bites the inside of his cheek, his eyebrows furrowing. His expression softens as he spots the gentle way Lloyd handles the flower, carefully pushing it back to place. It never fails to baffle him how someone as gentle as Lloyd could’ve come from his beginnings, much less from Garmadon, but he treasures it.

“Snapdragons,” Garmadon says, instead. “Fitting flowers, for our family.”

Lloyd looks at him curiously, eyes bright with the light of suspicion, and Garmadon is tempted to tell him the full truth, then and there. But Lloyd is still so young, innocent and naive and barely come to terms with his place as the Green Ninja. The truth of their blood is a heavy one, and Garmadon can’t find it in himself to lay it on Lloyd’s shoulders today. No, his son is happy among humans, so a human he’ll let him be. Someday he’ll know he’s more, closer to the dragons he admires than he realizes, but not quite yet.

Miraculously, Garmadon has the time, now.

“If you stay after dinner, I can show you how they’re planted,” he offers. Lloyd nods, and Garmadon’s smile widens.

Destruction is in his blood, and he’d be blind to say it isn’t in Lloyd’s as well. Power is power, whether it’s bright and beautiful or stained in darkness, and Lloyd could shatter mountains as well as move them, if he wanted.

But Lloyd never moves to pull the flowers up, only watches them rustle slightly in the breeze, leaving them to grow a little bigger, a little brighter. Garmadon, for his part, watches his son, all bright eyes and the burnished gold hair of his grandfather, and reminds himself that one needs not be a master of creation to appreciate life.

* * *

Lloyd likes to think of himself as an optimist, for the most part. He’s at least good at pretending that he is one, with how many times he’s had to convince himself it’s worth it to get back up.

Right now, he’s trying to remember how he’s ever managed to convince himself, because this time, getting back up seems impossible.

Lloyd used to wonder, back during Morro, how far you had to push yourself to break like that. How far someone had to push you, to truly splinter. He thinks he might have found his answer, though his is less of a bitter hatred and more of an empty abyss of hurt.

It hurts to breathe. That would be a sign that something’s wrong, if Lloyd didn’t already have about sixty other signs that he’s in trouble. But the breathing thing is sticking out to him especially, right now. His lungs feel like they’re scraping against his ribs every time he tries to draw breath, bruised and stinging, and there’s a deep ache in his chest that grows worse by the minute.

He tries swallowing again, sand scraping down his throat as he does. He hisses out a breath instead of coughing, almost frightened that his lungs will give out completely if he does.

He says almost, because Lloyd isn’t sure what emotions he’s got left to feel anymore.

A lie. Pain starts numb, sometimes.

Lloyd’s chest spasms as he sucks in another breath, and he wishes the desert would swallow him whole. His father — his real father, who pushed him from the Cursed Realm and told him to return to light and living — would want him to stand back up. He’d beg him to, stress the importance of continuing on, of persevering. Stuff like that.

But if it wasn’t for his father, Lloyd wouldn’t have to get back up in the first place. If it wasn’t for his father, Lloyd wouldn’t be—

His eyes burn, stinging as he squeezes them tightly shut, and he tells himself it’s the sand.

Instead, he focuses on the ragged beat of his heart. He only knows it’s there because his chest throbs in pain with every pulse, but he latches onto the feeling and holds tight.

Still alive, he tells himself, even as every bit of him sings in agony and his lungs scream at him to stop. He’s still alive. His powers aren’t answering him but they will, he knows they will, he can’t disappear like he did with Morro. He can’t — he can’t leave it, not like this, not with his father — not like this. If he can’t stop Harumi, if he can’t save his father, if he can’t do anything else at all, he can at least do this.

Stay alive. Stay alive. Stay alive.

He’s never realized how long the nights out here are, before.

* * *

After everything, the light dies down and the Oni vanish, and Lloyd’s heart stops.

It shouldn’t be a surprise to Garmadon, who isn’t even sure his own heart beats now, but it is.

It’s not supposed to stop. There was a promise made, somewhere, to keep it beating.

It restarts before he has the chance to process what that even means, and the swell of relief is so foreign, Garmadon leaves before he even has the chance to ask Lloyd what he’d seen. He thinks to himself, that will be the end of it. The end of whatever tentative connection he has with the boy, whatever frayed and tattered threads of something they once had. Better to cut them away for good.

Lloyd’s not one to let things die, though. Garmadon should know that at least, the boy tells him.

“I know you like repeating yourself,” he mutters. “Letting go is different.”

“That’s not what this is,” Lloyd huffs back.

Garmadon rolls his eyes, the two of them drifting aimlessly down the Ninjago City garden paths. It’s secluded, the rest of the city still recovering, and Garmadon’s grateful for the quiet, even if it is awkward. Building any kind of bridge with the boy is difficult, if only because Lloyd stresses that they’re rebuilding a bridge, and Garmadon has no memory of any bridge to begin with.

He’s still sifting through jumbled emotions, sorting out what his place in this world was and is supposed to be, but he knows that the word son slips easier from his mouth than daughter ever did, so he figures he’s on the right path, at least.

“It’s about—” Lloyd pauses, his expression contorting. “It’s about surviving, I guess,” he grinds out.

Garmadon’s mouth curls into a grin. “Really. You were quite…vocal, that it was about more than that.”

“It is, it’s just—” Lloyd cuts off again, stopping them in a half-ruined section of garden still littered with remnants of concrete. “It’s the payoff, you know? Here.”

He bends down, brushing dust from a surviving scattering of flowers. He gently touches the edge of a petal, pushing the flower head toward the sun. “See?” he says. “After all that, it’s still alive.”

Garmadon stares at the delicate edges of the petal, smaller and more fragile than any of the buildings that crumbled beneath his rule. At Lloyd’s nod, he stretches his own fingers out toward it, his hand impossibly dark and calloused next to his son’s own small one. But he brushes his fingers over the petal edge nonetheless, almost surprised that it doesn’t decay beneath his touch. It’s soft, he notes, like the fragile skin of a newborn. Odd that it should’ve survived, out of everything else that perished.

“So it is,” he says, carefully. Lloyd says nothing, but there’s a ghost of a smile around his lips. They must make an odd sight, the pair of them crouched in the dirt in the recovering garden. There’s no use in sitting here and looking at the flower, no explanation Garmadon can offer himself, but he doesn’t leave. He can take the moment, he decides, to appreciate what Lloyd is trying to show him.

They too, after all, are still alive.

#lego ninjago #ninjago #lloyd garmadon #garmadon #my fic #oh nO im getting emotional now

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zebra-all-the-time · 5 years ago

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I am

CACKLING.

https://www.plot-generator.org.uk/2m96ek8a/stupid-kai-smith.html

Stupid Kai Smith

A Short Story

by Zebra24/7 (rude this was all you, website.😂)

Kai Smith looked at the dark sword in his hands and felt nervous.

He walked over to the window and reflected on his trashy surroundings. He had always hated putrid An alley with its brainy, brave broken glass. It was a place that encouraged his tendency to feel nervous.

Then he saw something in the distance, or rather someone. It was the figure of Jay Walker. Jay was a pawn thundercloud with tall hair and wide arms.

Kai gulped. He glanced at his own reflection. He was a stupid, violent, boba tea drinker with sticky hair and sloppy arms. His friends saw him as a perfect, pongy phoenix. Once, he had even saved a bright Ninjago that was stuck in a drain.

But not even a stupid person who had once saved a bright Ninjago that was stuck in a drain, was prepared for what Jay had in store today.

The sun shone like slashing wolves, making Kai furious.

As Kai stepped outside and Jay came closer, he could see the boiling glint in his eye.

"I am here because I want Safety," Jay bellowed, in a puppet tone. He slammed his fist against Kai's chest, with the force of 296 ants. "I frigging love you, Kai Smith."

Kai looked back, even more furious and still fingering the dark sword. "Jay, I’m sorry," he replied.

They looked at each other with upset feelings, like two orange, outrageous octopi screaming at a very scum heatwave, which had orchestral music playing in the background and two evil uncles breaking to the beat.

Kai studied Jay's tall hair and wide arms. Eventually, he took a deep breath. "I'm sorry, but I can't give you Safety," he explained, in pitying tones.

Jay looked terrified, his body raw like a regurgitated, resonant ruler.

Kai could actually hear Jay's body shatter into 7548 pieces. Then the pawn thundercloud hurried away into the distance.

Not even a drink of boba tea would calm Kai's nerves tonight.

THE END

OK, so I was looking for a prompt generator, and I found this short story generator instead. And oh my gosh, I’ve hit gold

SHORT STORY GENERATOR

A Short Story

Jay looked at the peculiar knife in his hands and felt scared.

He walked over to the window and reflected on his deprived surroundings. He had always loved derelict Ninjago with its hot, high hills. It was a place that encouraged his tendency to feel scared.

Then he saw something in the distance, or rather someone. It was the figure of Zane . Zane was an articulate friend with ginger abs and solid fingers.

Jay gulped. He glanced at his own reflection. He was a charming, thoughtful, squash drinker with handsome abs and skinny fingers. His friends saw him as a proud, pong puppet. Once, he had even helped a queenlike blind person cross the road.

But not even a charming person who had once helped a queenlike blind person cross the road, was prepared for what Zane had in store today.

The wind blew like shouting maggots, making Jay unstable.

As Jay stepped outside and Zane came closer, he could see the straight smile on his face.

Zane gazed with the affection of 4552 smelly round rats. He said, in hushed tones, “I love you and I want to be free.”

Jay looked back, even more unstable and still fingering the peculiar knife. “Zane, I am in control,” he replied.

They looked at each other with delusional feelings, like two putrid, precious pigeons walking at a very loving rave, which had trance music playing in the background and two bold uncles sitting to the beat.

Jay studied Zane’s ginger abs and solid fingers. Eventually, he took a deep breath. “I’m sorry,” began Jay in apologetic tones, “but I don’t feel the same way, and I never will. I just don’t love you Zane.”

Zane looked puzzled, his emotions raw like a brainy, bulbous blade.

Jay could actually hear Zane’s emotions shatter into 6727 pieces. Then the articulate friend hurried away into the distance.

Not even a beaker of squash would calm Jay’s nerves tonight.

THE END

Plz someelse do this and reblog what you got, please!!!!!

#snippet #fanfiction #ninjago fanfiction #auto generated #plasmashipping #but Kai murders Jay #tw death #tw major character death #I MEAN I HAVE TO TAG IT GJS K EH HI

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