#ronin fic

[so-sures-blog]

Icebound

icebound definition: surrounded, obstructed, or covered by ice.

In which Zane uses his element against the Overlord to save the city and his friends. Because it wasn’t about numbers, it was about family.

❄️🩵❄️🩵❄️🩵❄️

It is the end, and Zane knows it.

The Overlord is conquering Ninjago City, webs of gold stringing across buildings like Christmas lights and tying up his friends like flies. They struggle, but it is useless under the might of the Overlord.

Zane flips out of the way of a golden band reaching to ensnare him and lands on a roof. All of his friends are tied up, and only Zane is free. He knows what he has to do. He is the only one who can.

“Support me, friends. For one last time.”

He takes a running leap off the ledge, and Jay flips midair so his feet plant squarely on top of his. Then Cole, Lloyd, Kai, Sensei Garmadon, and Wu.

He soars, flying straight at the Overlord, and grabs onto his golden fangs.

Immediately, he feels its power, and its agony. Pain rips into every crevice of his body; his jolts rattle and shake and his wires spark under his skin.

“Let my friends go!” Zane shouts.

“Go where, Doomed Ninja?” The Overlord sneers. Its eyes, red and hateful, glare into him.

Zane writhes under the immense pain and power. His body cannot handle it, he knows, and he feels himself falling apart under it.

“The Golden Weapons are too powerful for you to behold. Your survival chance is low.”

But Zane isn’t trying to hold them. He’s trying to destroy them.

He thinks of his brothers. He thinks of PIXAL. He thinks of his father. He thinks of an old man with long white hair as pure as snow and ice blue eyes that visited him a long time ago, who had come and left as quickly as winter did and had breathed that power into him because he saw him worthy of it.

“This … isn’t about numbers … It's about family!”

The golden webs holding the Ninja fall and they escape. He can hear them screaming, telling him to let go, and he thanks them for that. Wu and Garmadon grab onto them and yank them back, away from the oncoming destruction.

His core — his heart — started reaching critical mass. Frost began creeping upon the Overlord’s fangs. Something blue and blinding in his heart freezes under his power, and Zane embraces it. It's his power. His choice.

“I am a Nindroid. And Ninja never quit. Go Ninja … go!”

He is the Master of Ice. He was built to protect those who cannot protect themselves. He stands for peace, freedom, and courage in the face of all who threaten Ninjago.

Frostbite burns his skin away; jolt and wires freeze under the cold; until he is left completely bare.

The last glimpse they get of Zane is him surrounded by a blizzard of his own making, bright and beautiful like a supernova. Burning blue and white with the terrible brilliance of his own determined choice.

Zane died; not as a machine, not as a human, not as a tool of anyone or anything — but as himself. Zane died to save the ones he loves.

And woke up as something completely different.

❄️🩵❄️🩵❄️🩵❄️

PIXAL climbs her way up the steep cliff side, careful to place her foot in secure crevices in case she slipped and fell from the icy mountain. Heavy snow blinded her vision as the blizzard whipped around her, but she kept her pace steady and sure.

It had been months since she had left Ninjago City and began her search. Months since Zane’s death and memorial. PIXAL knew, logically, that she should be back there, properly mourning him. But she could not.

He had never given up on her, not when she was under the Overlord’s control or when she was struggling with the newness of emotions.

And that meant she could never give up on him.

When she had first met Zane, she became more than a machine meant to function. He was vital to her, and she was a part of him.

She carried half his heart, and against all logical explanations, she knew he was still alive.

She did not tell the Ninja of her suspicions: the immediate aftermath of Zane’s loss had been devastating. She’d watched as the team fractured, splitting at the seams as they all fled their separate ways, too heartsore and dizzy with grief to do much otherwise. She did not tell Cyrus Borg where she was going either, for she knew if he begged her to stay, she would.

If she had told them she had seen a snowy wraith emerge from the destruction of the frozen, apocalyptic atmosphere on the rooftop, she would have been told she had imagined it due to her grief.

And while she was grieving, she was not imagining it. She is a Nindroid, and she did not have an imagination. PIXAL was built to observe, to analyze, to collect data and gather information. She built theories and hypothesized, not assumed.

So she followed the signs. She kept track of all weather anomalies that happened across Ninjago — sudden snowstorms, cold drops in temperatures that swept through small villages and towns. It led her all across the country until it ended here, with her climbing up the frozen, snow-peaked mountain.

Finally, PIXAL arrived at her destination.

The Ice Temple.

Slowly, she makes her way towards it. Her sensors indicate the temperature dropping the closer she gets. For a normal human, they would have already gotten frostbite without the proper equipment and numb with it, but PIXAL was made of metal. The cold did not bother her.

She peers into the glacial architecture, but does not enter. Or more like, she is unable to. It feels as if there is some sort of force of winter that is keeping her at bay.

“Zane?” Hope finds its way into the desperation of her voice. Freezing winds whip her hair out of its ponytail and against the purple circuits on her cheeks, but she barely notices. “Is that you?”

There’s nothing except for the howling wind, then her eyes catch movement. Slowly, almost like a ghost, a figure starts to come closer, making a shape against the blizzard.

If PIXAL had lungs, all the air would have rushed out of them.

A being made of pure winter floated in front of her. Formed of ice and frost and molded by the wind, it stood there and looked at her. Opaque ice carved the face that has been imprinted in her memory drives, the one she had traveled across the entire world to see again.

It was frozen, and beautiful, and Zane.

Inside her neural drive, alarms were blaring into her system, flashing behind her eyes. Warning: Severe weather alert. Temperature reaching sub-zero levels. Retreat into a warmer climate —

PIXAL shut off the notifications.

“Hello,” she says. Zane does not move. She dares a step closer. “Do you recognize me?”

He says nothing, so PIXAL continues on. It feels like their roles were reversed when they first met: she, the one struck speechless by the other’s beauty. Him, stoic to it all.

“I’m PIXAL, the Primary Interactive X-ternal Assistant Lifeform. I’m a … friend. I came searching for you to bring you home. There are things about you that you don’t understand. That you have yet to discover. I am here to help you remember.”

Zane is quiet, but she senses that he is listening. Something glowing in her chest aches.

“It is alright if you don’t remember me,” PIXAL says. She cannot cry, but is she would she could. She is still new to emotions, and many are overwhelming her: joy and grief and something fierce and pure deep in her heart. “I remember you. And we are still compatible.”

Zane tilts his head and drifts closer. The snow slows its fall, the wind stopping altogether. Snowflakes gently coat her hair. Now that he is closer, she can see the differences that make him unlike the old Zane: he doesn’t have the one dimple on the right side of his cheek, or the small beauty mark on his collarbone, or the tiny scar on his index finger from his shuriken.

But he is still Zane, even as an icy spirit.

She held out a hand. “Your brothers miss you very much. Will you come back with me, Zane?”

He is silent, staring at her. Unlike before, it is impossible to know what he is thinking. She gazes up at him, imploring. His eyes have no irises or pupils, so she is simply staring up at pinpricks of pure blue light.

Slowly, his hand reaches out of her.

BANG!

A loud sound echoes across the ice, and out of nowhere chains of Vengestone come flying out and capture him.

Fear slams into her. “Zane!” PIXAL cries.

Ice races out from his body and across the chains as Zane struggles, but no matter what, he can’t break them.

PIXAL whips around to face the assailant.

A man in his thirties, wrapped in a thick parka to prevent the cold and wearing a red mask. He has shoulder-length brown hair and is wearing a dyed red straw hat, and under it she can see he is hiding an eyepatch.

“What are you doing?” PIXAL shouts. Anger — an emotion she rarely feels — burns through her.

The man lowers his gun and pulls out another one before she can even blink.

“Sorry, sweetheart. Just following orders.”

Before she can question what that means, he fires. A net tangles her limbs together and brings her down against the cold snow. Before she can fight against it, electricity courses through her.

And then everything went black.

[sweeneydino]

I have mastered the art of no thoughts head empty.

WIP.

[turrondeluxe]

Omg, your peepaw got into the competition! And so did mine! We’re having two ronins in the ring

Sunset linings ronin is sending his regards

FELLOW RONIN AU 🤝🤝🤝 I ALSO WISH YOU THE BEST OF LUCK

@non-rise-tmnt-au-competition

[angelmichelangelo]

the dad diaries for @turrondeluxe ❤️

if anybody doesn’t know, the peepaw and babies au has TOTALLY taken over my brain like. in the best way possible so of course i just had to write a lil fic for it <3 i hope u like this, amigo! i have other little ideas floating around in my head if you’d ever want more fic version of your au :) anyway enough rambling ENJOY!! everybody go check out the au i’m fairly certain everything is archived on @peepawronin for your enjoyment :-)

His coffee, as strong as it may, didn’t deter the headache that was blossoming behind his tired, weary eyes from expanding; creeping across the front of his skull with each steady pulse of his heartbeat.

He takes another sip, steels himself to see if perhaps the magic he knows does not truly exist has worked and…

“Papa!”

There’s the sound of his youngest, voice thick with babyish chub still, carrying across the lair with determination, tallying around inside his squeezing head like a brash drum cymbal.

Before he can push himself up off his stool, it goes off again, shrill and impatient,

“Papa! Papa! I’m telling!”

That was nothing new for Michelangelo these days, that familiar old phrase, minced with saccharine dramatics, he’s blinking his eyes hard to starve off the rest of the headache that threatens him; the kind that travels down the back of his skull and towards his shell and over his spine and makes him feel about a million years old.

He heaves a sigh. He already feels a million years old these days, what with the trophies of his days gone by evident across his aging body, like his trick knee and the ache he gets in his elbow when it perhaps rains a little too hard. It’s one thing to feel it physically, but the added bonus of it being emotional as well weighs just a touch too heavy for his liking.

He comes to a stop in the pit where the sounds are louder and more pitchier, and there’s two little turtles to accompany them, faces all pinched into varying degrees of annoyance.

It’s Odyn who reaches him first, as it often is, he’s a daddy’s boy at heart, little tiny legs carrying him the small distance that separates them, he goes barrelling into the larger, older turtle, face first into his pant leg. He’s gripping the edges of the fabric with three little fingers, giving it a sharp tug when he says with a rush of air,

“Papa, Uno is being mean again!” He whines, pressing his snout into Mikey’s leg. “He keeps calling me names!”

Uno has since joined their fray now, chest heaving with each stuttered breath as if the idea of being accused of such a thing is stunting each draw of air into his lungs.

“No I didn’t!” He retorts, voice all pitchy and nasally. Michelangelo groans softly to himself. “He’s just being a baby! Like he always is!”

Such a spiteful word directed towards their youngest is enough to erupt a hurtful sob from the smaller turtle. He buries his face further into his fathers leg, his voice warbled and muffled from both the tears the the mouth full of pant he has right now, but Mikey is able to carefully decipher it of something along the lines of, (in true irony),

“See! He keeps calling me a baby!”

He pries his son’s iron grip off from his leg, forcing him to look upwards with a tap of his finger beneath his damp chin. Fat tears roll down his cheeks, framing his face almost perfectly, he looks at his child sternly.

“You know not to take it to heart, hm? Do you eat baby food and wear diapers?”

Odyn sniffles, bringing a fist up to scrub away at the snot collected beneath his snout.

“No?”

Mikey hums. “And do you chew on furniture and need papa’s help to feed yourself?”

Odyn shakes his head. “No, papa.”

Michelangelo grins softly. “Then you’re not a baby. You know that, I know that.” He looks pointedly at his other son who is unmovable under his gaze. “Uno knows that. He only says it to get a rise out of you, right?”

Odyn’s bottom lip wobbles dangerously. “Yes,” he says in a rush, “but—”

Michelangelo is swift to cut in. “But I will deal with your brother. Okay?”

Odyn doesn’t seem entirely swayed; Michelangelo thinks that maybe he wanted some sort of permission to perhaps say a bad word directed at his brother, or maybe to have it out in a short scrap and there as kind of emotional compensation that only siblings would believe to be a reliable source of insurance against name calling.

But the smaller turtle eventually heaves a heavy, wet sigh, and nods his head solemnly.

“Good. Go play with your sisters,” Michelangelo instructs him, tapping him gently against the ridge of his shell. “I think they’re coloring. Will you make me something pretty?”

That gets his spirits up, the smile beaming across his face so bright, it might as well evaporate his previous tears left behind on his cheeks.

“Okay!” He calls out with delight as he toddles off to join his other, much quieter siblings on the far side of the room. Mikey watches them as they scoot aside and make space for him, offering up a fresh slice of paper, he’s already making grabby hands for the brightest crayons they own.

“He’s always getting me into trouble.”

That’s Uno’s low, forbidding voice, all full of that way too early angst that he recognises from himself and his brothers in their adolescent years, and when Mikey turns to face him, he’s sullen.

He doesn’t wait to hear whatever wisdom his father might be able to offer, instead, his bottom lip is trembling like it’s heavy with the weight of all the words he wishes to say; all the woes and the hurt that comes with having little brothers, and suddenly, with his face drawn in such an expression and his eyes narrowed and his mouth tight, Michelangelo sees a glimpse of Raphael in this child.

“You know, I was the youngest of my brothers,” Michelangelo explains to him. He motions for him to follow as they leave the pit, letting the soft voices of the other children behind them as they walk back towards the kitchen from which he came. “I pulled the same tricks he pulls from time to time.”

Uno pauses his end of conversation to clamber on top of the barstool that wobbles slightly under his swaying weight. Michelangelo steadies it with a hand until his son is fully situated, and once he is, he’s swiveling around to face the older turtle, still sporting the same, sour expression across his younger face.

“Then why’d you let him get away with it?” He says, words barbed, like this was somehow his fault now. “It’s not fair, papa.”

And Michelangelo chuckles softly. There are the glimpses of Donatello that shine through, like bright sunshine filtering through curtains in the early morning in hues of gold – that sharp intellect that constantly comes with its millions of almost unanswerable questions.

“Because I also know what my older brothers were capable of,” he tells him gently. “They did all they could to push my buttons, to get me in trouble. They knew how to play the game without getting themselves a foul.”

Uno heaves a loaded sigh, his plastron rising and falling, his hardened glare seems to melt away a little as he allows his father’s words to soak in.

“I just hate him,” he says suddenly, words dark and low. “He’s so annoying.”

Michelangelo stiffens at that. And at his father’s physical reaction, Uno shrinks a little, aware of what he’d just said; how loaded his words were.

“You don’t hate him.” Michelangelo tells him, Uno’s gaze gingerly lifts to meet his. “You are annoyed by him, yes, but hate is such a strong word, musko-san.”

Uno’s dark eyes flicker across the room with nerves, caught out, he wrings his hands together, as if trying to rid himself of the nervous energy that this conversation was building within him.

“I’m sorry chichi,” he says in a small voice. “That was mean. I don’t hate Uno.”

Michelangelo hums. “I know.” Then, “You know how I know?”

Uno shakes his head.

“The time you taught him kanji,” he begins to list. “Or when he lost a tooth and you soothed him because he was hurt.” He watches with pride as a small smile ghosts across his child’s face. “Or whenever you read to him before bed, even when it’s the stories you have already heard before.”

Uno rubs tiredly at his eyes; all of these emotions are a lot to bear for such a small boy.

“I know you love your brother, Uno,” Michelangelo tells him, tapping a green finger beneath his chin to gather his focus. “I know because I see so much of your oji in your soul.” He smiles warmly at his son. “Each one of them,” he adds, moving his finger down from his face to rest across his plastron, right over where his heart lies. “Right here, hm?”

Uno shifts in his seat, the old, worn barstool groans under his growing weight, he pitches himself as far forward as he can go without toppling off, looking up at his father with big, round curious eyes.

“Really?” He says, voice clinging to an awed whisper.

“Really.” Mikey tells him with a stern nod. “Now go play,” he says quickly, flapping him away with a dismissive hand.

“Papa hasn’t had enough coffee this morning,” he mutters, pinching his eyes narrowly to try and avoid the impending headache that’s crawling back across his skull. “Try not to have anymore arguments until at least late afternoon, yes?”

Uno hops off his seat, almost tripping in the process, he stands tall when he tells him,

“That’s okay!” He’s smiling now. A sight Mikey is sure he’ll never truly tire of, no matter how many headaches life brings. “Maybe I can ask the others if I can draw too, and we’ll make you something nice to make you feel better, hm?”

Michelangelo reaches across the countertops for his discarded beverage from earlier. Curling his fingers around the mug, he finds with welcomed surprise that it’s still warm. “You better,” he tells him with an entirely serious tone surrounding his words, raising one brow ridge for emphasis. “I didn’t spend hours scavenging those crayons for nothing.”

And with that, Uno is padding off in the direction of where his other children are gathered; straining an ear he can hear their excitable chatter and babble as they continue to work together.

And when their eldest sibling joins in, there doesn’t seem to be any lasting animosity; Odyn shows off what he’s already made, pride and excitement swelling over whatever leftover hurt from their spat, and Michelangelo chuckles to himself as he listens to Uno’s gentle encouragement that floats through front the other room.

He brings the coffee mug to his lips, steam curls itself around his snout, and a smile touches at his face, the slightest of turns. He awards himself with another mouthful, and whilst it doesn’t do much to quell his migraine, it does feel deserved.

And later that night, when he has all four of his children growing heavy in his arms, fighting a battle against fatigue that they are bound to lose against, as it is most nights, he watches his as Uno shuffles in closer to his brother, his pudgy little arm draped across the slope of his shell, and Odyn, his jaw slack, drool dried across his chin, his soft snores only just about disturbing the silence that falls across the room, he seems to curl into his brother’s offered warmth and Michelangelo smiles softly to himself.

Here in his lap are his children – the little turtles that call him papa and rush to him to settle disputes and disagreements, and to kiss scraped knees and to devote each of their wobbly crayon drawings to him that end up covering the fridge and the kitchen walls in a decoration of color and love and he knows that even with coffee, even with the best coffee in the world, all of this is worth a thousand bad headaches. Tomorrow might bring peace and tranquility and ease, or perhaps it shall be Yi and Moja that decide to scrap and fight or maybe all four will fall out of love momentarily, as siblings often do.

Michelangelo should know, he’s been one his entire life, even if his brothers are no longer here to push his buttons or fight him or argue over petty, useless things, he knows with great ease, that despite it all, they always found their way back together, whether it was over something big or small – that was the love between brothers and family.

He presses his sleeping turtles closer to him, curling his arms around them, they melt around his warmth and he knows that much like his group of siblings, these four here, were no exception to the same rules.

He closes his eyes and basks in the moment, acutely aware in the moment of quiet, of the headache that has finally shrunk itself away.

[keyblack]

CAN'T STOP WON'T STOP

[slay00ryu]

RONIN WITH MC WHO REALLY LIKES CATS PLS

A Small Cat Obsession.

You were a cat lover ever since you could remember. Obsessing over everything that had even the small drawing of a cat on it, you loved the animals more than anything in the world.

But maybe your obsession went a little overboard when you moved out from your family home and found an apartment... Every piece of house equipment was covered in cat drawings, stickers, there was cat decor everywhere, posters. Of course you also had two cats on your own, they were like your children, you would kill for them if you had to.

Well there was also someone else you liked, not as much as cats of course. You have priorities and humans aren't as high as the lovely animals.

Ronin. A serial killer, The Butcher, a mechanic, and the same man who invited you to his server, a haven for serial killers.

Some murderers that you heard of were there, The Sunset Slasher from the 90's, Heartsick Angel, and of course The Devil's Butcher.

You and Ronin were dating for a while, he also technically wanted to kill you, but who would care about that small detail? Definitely not you. You have cats to take care of, death isn't an option for a while now.

You were fast asleep, cats at your sides. You were unaware of the dangerous individual who was climbing to your window.

A man entered your room, hands in his pockets once he was finally standing on still ground. He was looking around, curiosity getting the better of him. He knew that you were crazy about cats, talking about your pets all the time. That's why it wasn't too surprising for him when he spotted the cats next to your sleeping body.

What surprised him though was a pillow thrown to his face right after one of the cats meowed and hissed into his direction.

You woke up. And you were the person who threw that pillow at him.

The light on your bedside table was lit, your eyes squirming to get adjusted to it.

"Ronin? What the fuck are you doing here?!"

You were obviously caught by surprise. You knew you couldn't expect anything from Ronin, he was unpredictable, crazy and rotten.

"Awh, why are you so angry darlin'? I just wanted to see you."

Oh that cocky grin. How much you wanted to scrap it from his face.

You watched as Ronin looked around you room, he looked back a you with a whistle.

"Damn, nice obsession you have going I see. It almost looks like you're in a cult dedicated to cats."

His words made you somewhat embarrassed. Especially when he looked so amused when he noticed your pyjama with a big cat on it.

"At least I don't look like an edgy teenager."

You replied sharply.

Ronin picked up the pillow you threw at him and walked up to your bed.

"Maybe I should become a cat for you to obsess over me so much, hm?"

The look in his eyes was full of amusement. He was having fun with his taunting.

"Oh shut up, you wouldn't be even as cute as my cats."

You rolled your eyes and he gave you a chuckle.

"Nah, I'd be a purrfect cat. Meow."

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

Meow meow

We're cat obsessed in this house >w<

[destinysbounty]

I know I have wayyy too many fan projects on my to-do list to warrant adding another one onto the pile (cough cough the 30-minute love triangle video essay), but for years now I've been wanting to do a rewrite/novelization of the Shadow of Ronin video game. Because like, the lore of this game has so many fucked up implications that never get acknowledged - but unlike with most fucked up Ninjago lore, the game is just obscure enough that not as many people are familiar with it enough to facilitate a broader discussion about this stuff. And dammit, I need at least one fic talking about how messed up SoR actually was and if I cannot find it I guess I'll just have to create it.

[alt-writes-stuff]

Ch 1 of "Insert turtle joke here" is out!

[Insert turtle joke here] - Chapter 1 - ALt_writes_stuff - Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles - All Media Types [Archive of Our Own]

@sweeneydino

[l0verclown]

From pressured to driven Part 1

What happens when you feel pressured to do something you never thought you'd do?

Especially if 4 serial killers are the ones pressuring you.

Slight Ronin x Reader

| spoilers for Killer chat!!! not proofread, probably OoC and this idea randomly came up in my mind at night so you'll probably find mistakes

Part 2:

Never thought you'd be hanging out with serial killers- heck, even date one.

Well here you are, in a difficult situation that might make you regret that you even agreed on staying in that server. But lets rewind a bit, shall we?

After Misaki's successful assassination, she figured she'd stay a bit longer in the country before heading home. Which also led her to the great idea of hanging out with the whole group! (Which only You, Ronin, Angel and V could attend)

Ofcourse, Ronin couldn't miss out, no? After all, being the person who brought the group together, can't be excluded. And, it gives him another reason to go outside aside from work and going on a killing spree.

At first, Angel was a bit skeptical, after all she is the Maria-de-la-Rosa, so hanging out, especially in public, would be a little bit tricky. But after a whole lot of convincing and begging, it worked out and she managed to come.

V was confused on why Misaki wanted to hang out, likewise because 1. He wasn't intrigued on the idea of hanging out, 2. He's not online very often, so he doesn't know the group that good as everyone else. But in the end he figured that it that it could benefit him eventually.

@Angelic: Wait Misaki

where are we meeting up again

@Hitmeuppp: Uhh

what was it called again..

Hage centre???

@K9: Hague Centre.

@Hitmeuppp: YES

THANK YOU

@Goreboy: be there around 2

before i drag you there myself

@Hitmeuppp: Edgy much

@SerialMC: I'll be leaving now

See y'all then!

Just when you typed the last message, you sighed and closed your device.

You wanted to come, they're your friends after all. But they're also serial killers.

Serial killers.

Fuck.

You were so up in the act, that you forgot that you weren't actually a serial killer.

You're a reporter and writer, and the only one who knows is the devils reincarnate himself.

What if they ask you how your recent murder went? Or what if they want you to do something you have no experience in?

There's one way to find out, and that is to go to that hangout.

"Yooo Reader is that you..!?" Misaki screamed from the distance, waving at you with excitement while you walked up to her.

"Wow- You're like 10x cooler than online! And- And-"

Misaki exclaimed with excitement, before V interupted them.

"Misaki, calm down before you scare them away"

"Whaaaat, can't i be happy for seeing my friends before i head home? Are you the funpolice now?"

"Not the fun one"

"Are you allergic to fun or something wtf"

After a few minutes of Misaki just complaining about V, Ronin and Angel eventually showed up.

"Met Angel on the way to here. Figured on walking here together"

"Yeah me and ro-"

"YOU'RE THE MARIA-DE-LA-ROSA!?"

"Wait Sshh!-"

"Yep, The Maria-de-la-Rosa life in the flesh. Or would ya like her to eat your flesh?"

"What is up with you associating me with Cannibalism, Ronin!?"

After A small fight between the two, you guys decided to walk around, grab some food and hang around, talking about just the casual, work, Hobby's and murder. Well only when there were no people around, obviously.

How long has it been? 4 hours? Ignoring the fact that time exists, you spent way longer than you expected to be outside. Didn't expect serial killers to be that fun.

"Guys, i have this good fucking idea" Ronin said before stopping, having a mischievous look om his face and crossing his arms. "Every Idea that you have is a bad idea ronin." Angel sighed out before shaking her head, knowing he had a bad idea. "Ooh Ooh, let me guess- Murder spree? Let the city know our names before i leave?" Misaki said before Ronin pulled out a crowbar from his bag. "Exactly fucking that."

You're fucked.

A murder spree? When you thought you couldn't get any unluckier, this happens. I mean- you could pretend to kill anyone, but that wouldn't work. Not when you're with four other people.

"So, What ya think about it Darlin'? Cruel, fun and informative. Show us some of those killer moves of yours"

"Yeah, You actually never told us about it. I would like to see a reader killing in live 3D!"

"Uh- As much as i wanna see them do it, we shouldn't pressure them."

"Lets hope for you this one does not show up on the news."

"I would love to guys, but i don't have my weapons on me right now. No weapons, no murder"

"C'monnnn Darlin', Such a killjoy are ya? Scared to dig out some guts with ya bare hands? Or do you really want a weapon?"

"Cause if you do, We just gotta head on to the purgatory, There's a fuck ton of guns and knifes there to even satisfy your wildest fantasies"

.

.

.

You were too scared to chicken out, so you just hoped that there was a dead body nearby so you could've pretended you killed it. Hopefully.

"What's the matter? Too fuckin' scared? This isn't your first time killing, no?"

"Yeah, C'monn, i wanna see you in action!"

"Let's not rush them, or we might drive them that crazy that they hunt us"

Misaki picked up a random gun, carefully checking if it is loaded or not. She inspected it, and when she found out it was loaded, she sparked with joy and aimed it to a random alleyway. And Boom- she shot someone. Maybe it was because she is a literal assassin, or maybe she was really lucky.

"Damn, Headshot."

"I can tell that that person has no respect to the fauna of this land."

"First, what does fauna mean, second, you're probably right."

"Fauna means the animal respective to the area"

"The only ones that dare come here are assholes, weirdo's or people that were dared here."

"Wow a free tour by ronin? Count me in"

"Wow that's uh.. Impressive"

You wandered around for a bit before you picked up a random knife, all bloodied and dull, and stopped looking around. No people in sight, so no murders.. For now. You decide to walk into an alley, you said you were going to look for victims, but in reality, you were trying to find an escape.

But there were a few complications-

They would eventually find out that you were trying to leave, and then you'd have four actual serial killers after you.

You could pretend you killed someone, splash some blood on your clothes, grab some random corpse that was already there, and show them. But do you have the guts to do that?

And lastly, even if you did escape, the server would know, Ronin might expose you and then you could say goodbye to your little book.

What are you going to do?

[bluepeachstudios]

Hey Ghost, it's a Server Reference Update

Read Chapter 3 here!

For the @tmnt-crossover-polls !

[awzominator]

“Debbie Ryan hair thing* So there’s this fan-fiction~

@doctaaaaaaaar and @melonpalooza literally keeping me feed with incredible content for these traumatized old men

[eldritchgray]

I've been thinking about Mikey as a character, specifically how we see him in SAINW and The Last Ronin, and it's so interesting to me how he turns out really cynical and honestly kinda mean when his family is no longer there.

Obviously an apocalyptic setting would affect anyone, but Mikey's change is something I can't stop thinking about. How he goes from an optimistic goofball to a bitter, cynical, old man.

I'd be interested to see how Mikey might change with his family still there, and how they'd react to it. Like if Mikey had an arc similar to 03 Leo's and ended up the same, though probably to a lesser degree, as he was in SAINW or Ronin

Basically what I'm saying is: what if Mikey got an antihero arc, because you KNOW that turtle is capable of incredible violence. And how would his brothers recon with it

[just-a-lil-turtle-with-knives]

Working on a 2k3/Last Ronin crossover. :D

[turrondeluxe]

YALL.

FIRST LASTING ROMANCE FIC ‼️‼️‼️‼️

[wildglitch]

Heres 25 fics I really wanna write but havent gotten around to yet

For those that wanna know before reading the list, the fandoms include are

Marvel, Spider-Man, Loki, DCU, Batman, Justice League, Pokemon, Shazam/Captain Marvel, Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtels (The Last Ronin), Danny Phantom, Sonic the Hedgehog, Voltron, Gravity Falls, Over The Garden Wall, RWBY, Camp Camp, Rise Of The Guardiens, Star Wars (Rebels), Miraculos Ladybug and Chat Nori, Ninjago, How to Train Your Dragon, Final Space, My Hero Academia.

Thats one long list of fandoms-

I swear its not a big ass crossover fic with all these fandoms.

The rest of the Wiz! Fics. Though one of them is almost done

Winter dad fic. Peter is dealing, Bucky dosent remember him, but the solder definetly does.

Parksborn fic post NWH. Peter and Harry meet at collage and become roommates (this was canon for like a day lol) Harry has issues, Peter has more.

Parent Loki and Son Jack frost. I love the concept and already have some plot planned out

Billy Batson has somehow been the child host of Whiz radio for about 70 years

The Last Ronin Time Travel fic

Dadow time travel fic. A few fics continuing my first dadow fic starting with Silver in the future and present, and later on future shadow goes to the past. Its a lit if feels

Sonic was raised by egg man. No one knows this

5 times Sonic confused people by acting like tails dad, and the the on time tails suprised them by acting like his son

Babysitter James. Basically, the geovani is Ash's dad theory + What if team rocket are juat there to look after Ash theory. He takes him in, James becomes one of the best in team rocket, and as a sign of trust, he makes him be his newborns babysitter.

Back to Jack Frost, A fic following his time alone and time people he meet

Dead On Main fic were Jason despretly tries to keep his ghost boyfriend away from his family

Rosegarden Fic where Ruby and Oscar are childhood summer friends who lost contact.

Ezra time travel fic because Im obssesed with them

Skybridge fic taking place during Twin Suns because Im also obsesed with those fics

Dadvid fic. David Adopts Max and the 2 of them are trying to find a new normal

Pinecone lost in the woods fic.

MLB fix-It. Cat becomes a night time vigilante as a way to deal with the stress, lower class people become more fond of him.

Klance fic. Congratulations, you got through 15 fics before Klance appeared. Ex's au, Lance dose hate Keith foe a reason, they used to date. No one knows about this and think their just being stupid

Httyd fic where toothless wasnt discoverd in the first movie.

Final Space fic were Little Cato deals with the trauma if spending so many years alone.

Ninjago Kai fic for the Time he spent alone. I have talked about this before I think

RodyDeku reunion fic.

Nightguard Denki au. A Fnaf x Mha fic

Rai: The Phantom Theif of hero society. My TodoKami fic I have been trying to write since 2022

Thats the List. If your curiouse about any of these or just wanna bug me into finally writing them, let me know in my ask box.

[keyblack]

"Finally, with their leader's sudden interjection, each man was wrent from their exhaustive journey, and found themselves faint, as if being jarred awake mid-slumber..." "Dais remained silent, observing Badamon's drawling with a leery, depthless gaze. He was quite good at playing this game, and was certain that his cohorts would not notice the fact that had he attempted to stand, he would have brought his jaw into rapid contact with the nearest piece of floor." "Sekhmet's eyes rolled as he held his head, sitting awkwardly in a loose yukata that would have been considered unseemly in their formal setting. Cale had quickly dismissed his old clothes..."

(X)