Dreams: Rewritten | Ninjago Reader Insert & x GN!Reader

It's MiCole Jackson!

Michael Jackson - Beat It

Showin' how funky and strong is your fight

It doesn't matter who's wrong or right (Who's right)

Just beat it, beat it, beat it, beat it (Hoo-hoo!)

No one wants to be defeated

—

A/N: Logic? What's that? Side note, I have no idea what the heck that thing is above the Destiny's Bounty. Bear with me, 'cus otherwise, I will go crazy (love me some new lore tho). This chapter relies less on the episode, so enjoy some original work.

TW: Anxiety attack (brief), self-gaslighting (one paragraph), mention of blood.

Feel free to skip the part after Y/n turning to leave for the warnings above. Your mental health is much more important than fanfiction, believe me (I put them in just in case). <3

(P.s the ninja aren't invincible)

Within, floorboards creaked from phantom steps, seas still frothing against the wooden exterior. The Destiny's Bounty silently carved through the waters, a thick fog hanging in the damp air. No sounds or signs of life other than it presented themselves, an eerie silence trapping its occupants onboard.

No longer was the blimp that floated above the deck, deflated to ensure stealth as it was the priority. It wouldn't have made that much of a difference anyway; what with Stone Warriors patrolling the island, ready to shout for backup should the enemy be spotted.

Any hope of survival would've been shot down with the blimp if the idea was to stay on board with it. With that said, the last few days had been rather tiresome, of all the people on the ship, two were awake. And a third near to open their eyes.

Warmth was all you knew while you rested.

Though as night can turn to day, you have to wake eventually. Sleepily, you sat up and yawned with a stretch, blinking a few times before turning your eyes to your room.

Except, it wasn't your room.

Dust motes floated in sunlight that streamed through open blinds, the posters on the opposite wall making no sense, with jumbled words and smudged pictures of vague figures you couldn't even begin to make sense of. Alarmed, you rubbed your eyes. It made no difference.

You kicked aside the covers, the carpeted floor cozily soft to the touch. Something was off about it, though. Like the silence after the wrong string had been plucked and this was figuring out where to pick up from that. An uncanny feeling resided in you, and you weren't sure how to feel about it.

Not to mention this strange place... was it unfamiliar?

Or were you trying to deny yourself how familiar it felt?

A wooden table sat next to the wall of your bed, a few objects sitting on it. Only one out of the various bits and bobs stood out like a fresh brush stroke on an old canvas. A singular die, white on half of its sides with black dots, the other side's colours inverted.

Carefully, you picked it up, inspecting each of its sides.

One second, it was smooth as silk, the next, grainy like running your fingers over dry sand, and another like sharp thorns on a rose. Yelping out of surprise, you dropped the die, the small inconsistently textured object dropping onto the floor.