Asking for a oneshot, where Morro is human, he was resurrected after the dotd events and became human again. He redeemed himself, and continued living with wu and the others
the ninja have a friend who helps them financially a lot, because she is rich ( I don’t mind whatever career you think is fitting for a wealthy young adult like reader, music producer?? Who is quite popular in ninjago)
Cole being a the music enthusiast he somehow became a close friend of hers, that’s how she’s close to the ninja (and wu too!) now. Reader often visits the monastery whenever she’s free.
the next time she visits is the time she first meets morro.
basically, after finding out who she is and what she does for them, morro at first is a bit envious, untrusting, and many other negative things surrounding the way he feels about her. How comfortable she is with them. How easy-going and laid back she is. Even childish sometimes. From a surface level, she just seems like a privileged rich bimbo who has no worries.
That’s how he first sees her, until she stays over one time and decides to stay in Nya’s room for more weeks just because she misses her family (the ninja) and the more time he spends around her, Morro discovers that her life wasn’t as perfect as he thought it was.
(note: reader is autistic. She had been abandoned by her parents and has built her way up from zero. She has chronic depression. Atp reader is an unnamed oc❤️ )
(Sorry that was too long but the idea has been in my head since forever and im not satisfied with writing it myself..)
This concept is so cool! I’ll make it it a reoccurring universe if people like this oc as much as I do :) (Or if you recommend something again). Just to clarify, his behavior here may be a little different than DOTD, and I’ve written in this way because I don’t think he would be even moderately healed after that. He was only polite with the ninja because he assumed he’d never see them again. After being resurrected, the resentment is alive and well. Please peep the pun in the title haha bass means base 👀👀 I’m a dork. Also shrink = slang for therapist!
Resurrected !Morro, takes place after the events of day of the departed
It’s been a couples months since he got out of jail on probation. How he earned it is a blur; He doesn’t think he could recall any memories from the time he spent in that cell. Well, he could remember being constantly reminded of how bad he stunk. It took some to time to learn water couldn’t hurt him anymore. It could only be described as torturous— being such a clean-freak with a fear of… showering.
Cold water still makes him spiral. It’s such a pain in the ass to wash with lukewarm water after a workout, but that’s what he was doing. How funny. Dying by fire and ash in the caves of despair, then in the freezing cold waters of Stiix. It’s made him so temperature-sensitive. “Just another thing that makes me weak”, the sentiment throbs in his brain like a headache.
He walks by the monastery’s living room while towel-drying his hair. He glances into the room, and his eyes hone in on the unfamiliar face. You notice him, his catlike head tilt and dagger-sharp gaze assessing you. It makes you shiver, ever so slightly. It’s quite clear that he used to inhabit the cursed realm. His unnerving energy is diluted by what he’s wearing: A shirt says “Cats are awesome”. For somebody like him to wear that, it must be comfy.
Zane and Cole turn their heads toward him, taking notice of the tension. Cole clears his throat, introducing you to Morro, and him to you. But you don’t need an introduction. Everyone knows him. Stiix still suffers from the aftermath of his attacks, now far more impoverished and crime-ridden than before. He’s faced the consequences already, atleast that’s what the public information regarding his case says: Severe mental illness impairing his judgment and function, coercion from the Preeminent playing a significant role in his choices, too young at the time of committing the crimes to be charged as an adult. If he’s been let out, you trust it must’ve been the right thing to do.
“..Hi” You smile, but it doesn’t quite reach your eyes. The nerves get to you.
He doesn’t acknowledge you. Turns to the others.
“You didn’t tell me somebody would be over. What if I walked out in a towel? You have to think about this stuff!l
Zane tries to reason with him, “You have never done that, Morro. We had no reason to suspect you would… it would be quite out of character—“
“Just warn me next time!” Morro interrupts. “I hate seeing random people in this place.”
Cole looks at Morro with barely disguised annoyance. Cole would normally call somebody out for being this unreasonable, bluntly so. You suppose Wu’s requested him to be patient, for Morro’s sake. His response is preceded with a sigh.
“Alright. We will, unless it’s too short notice for us to tell you. But.. look, this is just as much our place as yours. You can bring people here, too.”
Morro’s eyes flash with hurt, before reverting back to their squinted state. Cole should know he doesn’t have anyone to bring over.
He scoffs. Walks off to what you assume is his room.
Cole apologies on his behalf. Says he’s had it pretty rough.
“It’s obviously no excuse, but he’s a bit of a baby, so we have to walk on eggshells around him. It’s not like he’s the only one that been through something.” His resentment slips through. Everybody must be really annoyed with Morro. Because Cole, who you know to be super compassionate and down-to-Earth, can’t hide his bitterness any longer.
“Bad things affect people in different ways.” You look down, playing with your fingers. “I’m sure he doesn’t mean to be so annoying.”
Days pass. You’ve been coming over pretty often. You just finished your work on another album, so lately, you’re free to hang out with everybody. You’re in Nya’s room, showing her and Jay an instrumental you made. A certain artist’s label is considering buying it for them.
“Come on. You can’t tell us who?”
“Jayyyy. She told you, it’s confidential”. Nya emphasizes the last word, making a joke out of the lingo you use now as a producer. They used to know you when you couldn’t convince anybody to let you make music for them. That’s how you know they don’t keep you around just for money.
But somebody comes in to make you doubt that.
“I see how it is.” You overhear from the hallway, returning after having left to fetch some water. It’s Morro’s voice. “You need money. I guess being a hero doesn’t pay enough, huh? Real grateful to you— The people of this place. They pay you so fairly you guys need to leech off of her?”
Nya’s voice comes in after a groan.
“Oh don’t you dare, asshole. I’m not even gonna dignify that with a response.”
“Cuz it’s true?” He eggs her on, getting closer to Nya’s face. Jay gets in-between them, but not before Nya pushes Morro back.
Jay almost calls him a bitch, but Nya told him she despises that word— and Jay’s said he considers swearing to be a sign of “weak verbal skills” sooo often, it’d be embarrassing for him to cuss after being provoked.
“Why do you only ever open your mouth to bother people? Maybe your intentions with somebody well-off would be to take advantage of them, but we’ve known her forever. Before money was even in the question.”
“Right. Her company is the enjoyable part. The things she buys you.. just a nice bonus, right? You don’t even notice it?”
“Don’t talk about me like I’m not here.” You muster up. They turn to you. Nya’s face drops. She can’t believe you had to hear all that.
“It talks?” Morro jeers. He flinches a little when Nya raises her hand.
“Go home.” She says. “Back to rehab, back to jail, back to wherever the hell. And don’t come back until you learn how to act around other people.”
“Oh.. Nya..” You quaver. “That’s a little far—“
“I don’t need you to stick up for me.” Morro glares at you before turning back to Nya and Jay. “Sorry, I guess. Didn’t know this was such a touchy subject for you.. there’s just no honesty around here..” he shoves past you.
What did you do to make him hate you so much?
It’s nighttime, and you keep asking Nya if it’s okay you’ve been hugging her so much. She keeps reassuring you it’s fine. She’s polishing the cover of her blade, your cheek rests on her shoulder.
“..I’ll kick his ass, I swear..” She mutters.
“I’m not upset about him!” You lift your head, now facing her.
“You were fine the past few days until he opened his big mouth.”
“No.. I..” you sigh, looking down at your lap. “I really missed you guys. Whenever I’m.. free, which is rare, you guys are always on the verge of death in some other realm or something like that.. I— I’ve been thinking, you know..? How much this place sucks..” You meet Nya’s eyes. “This realm is always under attack. We never have any peace.. and.. making music during these times while you guys are out fighting your your lives feels so… useless..”
“..Art is important.” Nya smiles at you. “It gives people hope. It’s also a distraction. ‘Cause not everybody can handle thinking about real life all the time. You don’t need powers. You don’t even need to do .. anything manual, really. There’s a lot of ways to save people.”
You look down at your lap, fidgeting with your fingers. She’s right. Intellectually, you agree. But emotionally, you aren’t convinced. Your mind will be do anything to convince itself of your supposed uselessness. You speak, low and begrudgingly.
“I guess so… but I think, that’s easier for you to say. Like, if somebody’s life is on the line, you can sort of… force them, physically, to comply. I mean. If you’re stronger than somebody.. you can make them not give up. I guess, what I’m trying to say is.. when your only way of helping people is making art… you can’t really save those that don’t want to be saved.”
You stir awake with Nya asleep by your side. Your throat feels dry.
You walk over to the kitchen, and swear you see a strange, elongated silhouette. You’re used to seeing things. It comes with being anxious. You rub your eyes, only to remove your fists and see Morro. It scares you shitless. You didn’t hear anyone, and suddenly somebody just manifests in front of you. The moment you open your mouth, he closes his hand over it and puts his arm behind your head so you don’t pull it back. He’s so swift. It’s like he’s done this before. Oh, yeah. He has. He’s a ninja. Honestly, it never occurred to you that you were in a house full of people with reflexes a thousand times faster than your own. Kinda scary.
You hear a crack. You look down to see.. an egg?
“Shit..” Morro mumbles, before glaring at you. “Make any noise and I promise I’ll kill you.” He removes his hand from your face before wiping it on his pants, mumbling something about drool.
You blink away your tears, you don’t even know why they’re there. You probably kept your eyes open too long in shock. You look at the broken egg on the floor.
“You um.. you need a mop…?” You look up to see him already getting one out of the nearby storage closet.
“Clean that up.” He hands you the mop and gently kicks the bucket in your direction. You take the mop into your hand without even realizing what you’re doing. You look at him confused.
Morro raises his brow at you. Or, it looks like he does. You can’t see that well right now. “What’s with the look? I only dropped it ‘cause of you.”
He turns to the fridge to get another egg.
“…What are you doing?”
He ignores you, grabs a spoon.
“What— what are you doing?”
“I heard you the first time..”
“You didn’t answer me…”
He cracks it open, carefully separating the yolk from the whites. You can see him contemplating if he should throw the yolk away before he just swallows it.
You take the bucket to the sink to fill it. You hear him rummaging around in the drawers. You leave the tap on and turn to him. He’s holding parchment.. so, he’s probably looking for scissors. They’re next to you. You tap him on the shoulder and hand them to him.
“…Thanks.” He carefully positions the paper before he begins cutting. You never thought you’d admire the way somebody cuts paper, but the line is perfectly straight throughout, no bumpy edges at all. It’s like everything he does needs to be flawless. He can feel you staring.
“What?” He snaps his head at you.
You flinch. He moves so fast. “I.. what are you doing all this for?”
He scoffs, returns to the paper. “So nosy. Why won’t you stop asking?”.. after a moment of silence, he answers. As if he actually wanted you to keep asking. “It’s to repair a torn page..” you assume he tore it, but he words it in a way that suggests it was torn without his ministrations at all.
“Must be really important if you had to fix it at midnight.” You reply, turning around to turn the tap off.
Morro’s eyebrows furrow as he faces the counter, clearly a bit more upset with himself than with what you said.
“..Yeah. One of Wu’s books. He.. told me to copy some of it down…, ‘cause the original book’s ink is wearing off.. but I didn’t intend to accelerate the book’s decaying process..”
“…You do everything really carefully.” You declare, not really thinking before speaking . It was an observation that felt necessary to voice. “You cut the paper perfectly straight.”
His eyes narrow into their typical judgmental squint.
“You can’t do that?”
“Most people can’t..!” Your ears redden, the insinuation that you’re the only person in the world that can’t cut paper perfectly straight is profoundly embarrassing , so you had to shut it down. You continue speaking. “I never thought to use egg-whites for that.”
“It’s made of animal skin. Egg-whites create strong bonds when they dry… and it’s weaker than glue….so, it won’t warp the paper when I try to repair it.”
“Interesting.” You take a step, attempting to follow him into his room.
“What are you doing?”
“Oh.. I.. I wanna see.”
“…You want to see me fix a tear?”
“I—.. no, it’s alright.. nevermind, I’ll go—“
“Clean the egg off the floor first. I’ll wait for you since you’re so interested.”
“Oh..okay, yeah..” You blink. Then you feel a sense of shame sink into your stomach. This guy’s been such an asshole to you. And it’s not even your fault the egg fell. He dropped it while he was covering your mouth.
“Help you? Mop an egg? God, you’re lazy.”
“It’s not my fault you dropped it.” You clench your fists, they rest on either side of you. “And the kitchen’s also a mess. You left a bunch of things out.”
He stares at you with the textbook definition of contempt in his eyes, before kissing his teeth.
“Yeah, I’ll clean up the kitchen, but I won’t touch the mop. Just wait..” he drops his things off in his room before entering the hallway again.
You mop the egg off the floor, but the smell remains. You look up to see Morro lighting incense to get rid of the stench.
You retreat to his room, where you hold the parchment down so he can apply the egg whites to the tear in the page. It is literally miniscule.. If Wu noticed, he wouldn’t care.
“Is this seriously what you were so worried about..?”
“Don’t be insolent.. it’s not just any book.” Morro does this thing where he’ll use words only elderly people use in casual conversation. It makes you giggle.
“What’s funny?”
“Uhm..” You compose yourself. “You just… you talk like… a professor, sometimes.”
He rolls his eyes, a smile peeking through on his lips. “Yeah. After I went to prison I realized the average IQ must’ve dropped while I was in the cursed realm. Nobody there talked like I did. Used a bunch of dumb slang I still don’t really get.”
“Like bitch?” You blurt out, referencing the fight between him and Jay yesterday.
“..Yeah, exactly like bitch.. it’s used less sparingly now.. but, that word definitely still existed when I was a kid..” He brushes the egg-whites into the paper with precision, creating a thin layer to mold the torn edges together. “The blue one looked like he was going to choke on his tongue when he tried to call me a bitch in front of.. water girl.” You aren’t sure if he calls them nicknames to be rude, or if he genuinely doesn’t have their names memorized yet. Either way, their names are clearly too insignificant to occupy space in Morro’s head. “If you’re going to insult somebody.. at-least do it with some.. linguistic competence… don’t stutter like an idiot.”
“Jay doesn’t swear because he thinks it’s a sign of the linguistic incompetence you’re talking about.”
“Then he should find a few better alternatives for bitch, because it took him too long to stop stuttering.” Morro takes your hand to lift it off the parchment. He does that a lot. Instead of asking people to do things, he does it for them. He doesn’t trust anyone to do anything right.
You understand the humor in Morro’s complaints. The average IQ seemingly dropping, peoples’ speech patterns becoming less formal. But it does make you feel sympathetic toward him. He’s supposed to be older than all the ninja. But his time in the cursed realm paused his grown, mentally and physically. He was essentially born 20 years before them, but he's the same age as them. He must feel so out of place. He’s practically a teenager who missed out on an entire generation of normal human development, thrown into an era where he doesn't know the slang and doesn't understand the dynamics.. making him feel like an outsider in the only place he ever wanted to call home. You … relate to him in that sense. Having to learn the things that everyone just.. knew. Being looked at weird because you forgot a social rule that everyone else in the room knows how to follow except for you.
“…I like the way you talk. It’s.. precise.”
Morro pauses, then continues to smooth over the parchment until it dries.
“Precision is mandatory..” He says, finally lofting his finger to get a good look at the book over the direct light of his lamp. “If you aren’t precise.. well, it’s hard to be of use to anything.”
Of use. Just another thing he says that reminds you of his total isolation. He thinks of himself as a product. Something you either sent to get fixed or throw away when it doesn’t work properly. If you thought that way, you wouldn’t really want to talk to people either. He’d see them enjoying themselves without doing anything. Without being productive, without being useful. And people liking them and wanting their company anyway, and it would hurt him. Make him feel like the perfectionism he’s devoted his life to, didn’t matter at all. And now it’s too late to undo all the conditioning and just be normal. Of course it would cause resentment.
“…About the.. uh, thing.. I did yesterday..” He scratches the back of his head, his soft, jet black hair falling smoothly over his fingers. “I… shit” he clears his throat, his ears now pink. “So much for linguistic competence..” he looks down. “I’m sorry. I was being a dick. Nya should’ve punched me. She got pretty close.”
You stare at him, worried accepting his apology will solidify to himself that he’s made one at all, wounding his pride all over again and causing him to retreat. So you stay silent. You nod.
“I.. I dunno, I thought… you just…you seemed like you didn’t care about anything. And they love you anyway. But… you care about a lot of things, clearly. You’re humble.. and, way too nice to me after all that I said and after I made you clean up my mess..”
“You said it yourself… I kinda, do everything weirdly perfectly. Although anybody should be able to cut paper the way I did.. um.. yeah, just.. seeing somebody that doesn’t have a stick up their ass all the time like me, being considered so… successful.. I.. I guess it pissed me off, maybe I got jealous. I don’t know. It’s all I ever do.”
Your heart thuds against his chest. He’s done. He’s waiting for you to respond. But what the hell do you say? How do you fix this? How do you console somebody who hates being consoled?
“I’m.. I’m glad you’ve changed your mind about me.” You manage to say. “I can’t.. I’ll be honest, whenever people .. tell me this kinda stuff, my instinct is to… try to fix it. But what you’re describing… well, it’s a complex you’ve got. That’ll take years to undo.”
“You’re a shrink now?” He looks bored again, but the vulnerability is still there.
You ignore his comment. “Just.. it’s a conscious thing, alright? Is what I’m trying to say. You think you need to do everything like your life is on the line… But anybody that hates you after a mistake never cared about you at all. And you shouldn’t try to cater to them because someone that wants people to be perfect is looking for something that doesn’t exist, because we all fuck up. And I know whatever’s convinced you you need to be flawless isn’t just going to go away. It’s part of your brain, but.. that’s what I mean by the whole, conscious thing. It’s about your choices too. You didn’t choose what hurt you, but.. but you choose who to hurt and who to care about, and if you choose to.. care about people that love you for you, mistakes be damned, and you choose them over and over and over again, eventually, you won’t feel the need to walk on eggshells anymore. Because you know they aren’t going anywhere.”
Morro doesn't move. He stands entirely still, his hand frozen against the smooth wood of the cabinet door, his dark, green-streaked hair completely obscuring his eyes. For five agonizing seconds, you’re terrified that you misread the cues. All this hyper-fixating on how neurotypicals talk, how they say what they don’t mean and mean what they never say— maybe it’s led you to nothing. Maybe you couldn’t console him after all. Maybe you went too far, missed another social cue, took a certain thing too seriously and treated a serious thing like a joke. You worry that your words cut too deep, that you just accidentally backed this hypersensitive, volatile ex-convict into a corner, and that he’s going to lash out just to protect his pride.
He just lets out a slow, quiet breath through his nose. His shoulders, usually so rigid and defensive, drop a fraction of an inch in the dark room. He doesn't look at you. He can’t. He closes the book with a loud thud.
"You talk too much," he mutters, before leaving you in his room and going off to .. meditate, maybe. You notice him doing that early in the morning. Right now is probably around the time he wakes up. So, no point in going back to bed.
You stare at the book, deep in thought. Maybe you got through to him. Maybe he listened. Maybe he’ll take your advice. Maybe he.. even likes you now. Even if his reply was abrupt, dismissive, rude… you feel a sense of accomplishment. Of course, if he ever wanted to be your close friend, he’d have to change significantly… but, it’s safe to say you’re acquainted now. Maybe. Atleast from your point of view.
˚ ✦ . . ˚ . . ✦ ˚ . ★⋆. ࿐࿔ . ˚ * ✦ . . ✦ ˚ ˚ .˚ ✦ . . ˚ .
I’m actually really proud of the advice I wrote here :) There are many people out there like Morro that think love is earned through proving oneself worthy. It makes sense for him, considering how little love he received as a child. If you know anybody like him, be patient when they mess up. They’re already beating themselves up about it in their head. And if you’re the one that’s more like him— choose the right people. And when they stay throughout all your fuck-ups, you’ll realize you didn’t have to be perfect for love, ever.
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