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@morros-writing-blog
Pinned Post
name: nyx haruki allard
pronouns: he, him
main: @sippin-on-waterfalls
dni list
antishippers
see main blog for the rest
fandoms i write for: ninjago, genshin impact
requests: closed for ninjago, open for genshin impact
NOTE: I just finished the Inazuma Archon Quests. I will now write for them if requested.
information for requests (trigger warning for kaeluc mention)
đŠđđą đđđ đđ đđđđ đđđđđ
a greenflame royalty au (oneshot)
How long will you let it burn? [read the tags]
xiao finds out zhongli gave up liyue and he decides to take his anger out on the former archon
i didnt get everything i wanted to write down but thats fine, i can always add more or redo this later
the song that made me think of this: (please listen to it, itll do more to the story than what i could put in)
đđđđđđđ đđđ đđ đđđđđđđ đđđđ đđđđ đđđ
đ đ„đđđđŁđđ đđđ đđŠ: đđŠđ„ đđđđđđ
@ambrosial-tea , i decided to make this ten times angstier than it needed to be
Looking back on everything he wanted to do with his life, killing his son was not something he imagined on the list.
In his defense, he didnât know it was Lloyd.
But he should have known.
Every little reference the Green Ninja â Lloyd â made about him, about not having a dad. All of the demands he made.
Garmadon should have figured it out quicker.
After all, he was the one who held Lloyd so close to his heart. Even when they were so different, so separated, he still loved the kid.
It was too hard to admit, though.
What had he done?
Garmadon couldnât stop staring at the bloodied and bruised face of his son, the smallest of smiles on Lloydâs dying face. He had finally gotten the Green Ninja right where he wanted, heâd finally landed that deadly strike â a blade right through the chest will kill anyone, after all â and then it happened. Lloyd ripped off his hood with a struggle, meeting Garmadonâs gaze with a certain wry calmness in his eyes that heâd seen in dying soldiers so many times.
âI held onto the hope that youâd realize soon,â Lloyd managed, his voice shaking and quiet as the now-open wound in his chest spilled blood that stained the lifelike green of his outfit red. âThat youâd stop everything for me, yet even after everything youâve seen me go through, you still didnât. I hope youâre happy with Ninjago, dad.â
Trembling and struggling for air, Garmadon collapsed, falling to his knees before Lloydâs crumpled and lifeless form. His swords clattered on the ground beside him, but he couldnât bring himself to care. The world was spinning and he felt suffocated, the collar of his chestplate seeming too far up his neck and the air around him too heavy to reach his lungs.
His head fell forwards, and Garmadon was vaguely aware of the burning in his hand as his tears struck skin.
What had he done?
âLloyd-..â Garmadon choked out, his throat feeling too tight. âIâm so sorry, if I had known â... Please, I -â
Lloyd wasnât there to listen to what he had to say anymore.
If only he cared just a tad bit more.
If only he tried to save Lloyd before all of this.
Maybe then Lloyd would be alive.
there is a tendency with history, i think, because we're so far removed from it, to kind of forget that all of the people were people
a child 10,000 years ago left a handprint on a wall. they were fingerpainting. a viking climbs up a rock just to carve the words "this is very high" 10ft off the ground. somebody centuries... milennia... ago burned their dinner so thoroughly that they buried the ruined pot in the backyard rather than attempt to clean it. shakespeare got drunk and wrote dick jokes. tutankhamun was a little boy who liked ducks more than anything. a roman carves his name into a monument in another country saying "i was here". a prisoner, centuries ago, in the tower of london scratches lines into the wall as a tally marking the days. a medieval monk scrawls in the margins bemoaning the boredom of his work.
every human being across history has said "i was here. i lived. i loved. i made something. i laughed. i cried. please do not forget me"
The first thing he thought when he returned was âdid anyone remember me?â He wanted to know what was left of himself. And so, he set aside thoughts of the Preeminent and his mission to find the Monastery.
The Monastery. Morroâs first true home. Heâd stayed in a few other places, sure, but none that he considered a home. None that had people he considered family. He was happy, at first. He felt safe and okay, at first.
A tear escaped Morroâs eyes, burning his cheek as it went. He gazed at the burnt remains, sucking in a breath and steeling himself. Its okay. Maybe something was salvaged. Maybe he had something left.
His foot crunched on something as he took a cautious step in. He looked down, lifting his foot again, and recognized the shattered material of a dinner plate. Morro frowned and dropped to one knee, picking it up and shaking off the ash and dirt that had gathered over the years. As he turned the piece in his hands, he realized it belonged to the same set Wu had used since he was young.
A young boy ran through the hallways of his home, laughing as he chased after a much smaller cat. He entered the kitchen, barrelling into a larger form without realizing. As he fell back onto his butt, the loud clatter of a plate dropping onto the ground startled both the cat and him.
Wu frowned when he realized the plate had been broken but ignored it for now, looking over at the boy. Heâd gotten up and ran off again, retreating to his room. With a slam of the door, the boy dove under his bed and curled up into a tight ball, guilt wracking through his body.
Morro blinked as he snapped out of it, unsure of how long heâd been wrapped up in his own memory. He set the plate down and stood back up, wiping more tears from his eyes before they burnt him again. The Monastery was completely burnt, and the few walls that remained were empty. Morro wasnât going to find anything here.
Realizing this, he finally decided to leave. Morro sighed through his nose and reluctantly turned around, pulling his cape around himself. His eyes lingered on the building for a moment longer before he shook himself off and began the descent down a million stairs.
It was... odd.
Morro missed decades of improvement. As he walked through what heâd discovered what was called Ninjago City, he truly realized how much he missed of the world. How things moved on without him. He didnât like it. While he was dying in those Caves, heâd lost hope that he would ever be great.
He just wished for Wu to never let him be forgotten. Morro only ever wanted to be remembered. Being another ânobodyâ terrified him greatly â well, that and being a disappointment, but he already knew how to avoid that. It was up to Wu to remember him. No one else knew of his existence.
Well, maybe those other children, but Morro hadnât been the nicest to them. Eventually, Wu stopped trying to make him be nice, because he really didnât like those kids and nothing would change his mind. Morro didnât change his mind easily, and he didnât let things go easily.
He supposed that was why he ended up where he did.
Morroâs attention shifted when he realized he was being given odd looks. He partially wondered if this was because he was a ghost, casually strolling down the City streets, or if they knew who he was. Even if it was illogical and unrealistic, he still clung to the slightest hope. And so, he grabbed someone by the wrist as he passed them, tugging them into an alleyway.
âH - Hey!â The man protested as he was dragged, trying to tug his wrist from Morroâs grasp. âWho do you think you aââ
Morro cut him off pretty early, taking hold of the body as soon as he was out of sight. He took a deep breath, leaning against the alleywall for support, before delving deep into the manâs memories.
There was a lot about family. He watched these memories for a few moments, almost feeling like he was there himself. The man had two kids, a boy and a girl, and his wife was... a really pretty woman. Morro had never been one for romance, especially not with women, so he supposed it was the manâs memories affecting him. As he watched, he realized this family was truly happy.
The kids had a good mom, and an equally good dad. Something Morro could never have. He sighed through his nose, resting his head against the wall before letting go of his hold on the man. Ignoring the yelling to his back, Morro floated above another building, using the wind to aid himself.
As he stared over the City, he realized for the first time that no one would remember him. It was dark out now, and the lights blocked out the stars, but that wasnât important right now. Morro sat on the edge of a tower, focusing to keep himself invisible to anyone who may come near but letting his thoughts wander at the same time.
He had been erased.
Was Morro really erased, or was it just that he didnât look hard enough? He went through the memories of anyone he could, found archives in the museum and searched through history books in the library. It had been a week, and no one knew who he was.
He didnât exist anymore.
Morro never wanted to be forgotten.
He wanted people to know he existed.
He wanted to make Wu proud.
He wanted to be known, he wanted to make a place in history.
He wanted to be the boy who built himself to greatness out of nothing.
But that didnât matter now.
Morro supposed this was his second chance.
Well, its best he get to work, then.
It was raining outside.
It was raining outside.
Morro let out a sob, staring up at the night sky. His body shook as he fell to his knees, mud sloshing under his form. Tears streamed down his cheeks, mixing in with the rainwater joining it. Happiness welled up in his chest and he was suddenly smiling, wider than he felt he ever had before.
It had been years since he could feel this, the water soaking into his clothes and chilling him. He paid no mind to the fact he would most definitely get sick later (curse his poor immune system), lifting one arm to look at the water â almost as if he didnât believe it. Morro laughed out of sheer joy, his chest tight but warm at the same time.
He was human again.
They all were.
Slowly, Morro got to his feet and turned around, looking at his friends. Soul had an arm wrapped around both Bansha and Wrayth, the three of them watching Morro. Without saying anything, Morro ran right to them, barreling into Soul and wrapping his arms around the oldest ghost. He didnât care how his tears were surely soaking Soulâs shirt, they were all wet anyway.
âYou did it,â Morro whispered, pressing his face into his friendâs shirt. He missed this feeling. âI canât believe it, Iââ
Soul hummed, removing the arm around Bansha to return Morroâs hug. âWell, Bansha did the spell. Iâm sorry we couldnât get to you sooner.â
Morro shook his head, lifting a grateful gaze to Bansha. She smiled but looked away shortly after, scowling again as a weak attempt to keep her reputation. âYeah, whatever,â Bansha grumbled.
Morro rolled his eyes, unphased, and slowly pulled away from the hug. âLetâs go inside.â He said, calmed down from his initial emotions, even though his grin never faded.
They had a lot of healing to do, but they could do it.
Once again, Harial found himself unable to sleep. He stared numbly at the caveâs roof, lying on his back. His whole body was numb and aching at the same time, hunger pains settled deep into his stomach. Each limb felt heavy and he just wanted to sleep on something other than rock.
Instead of lying there all night, he slowly sat up, exhaustion weighing on every movement. The bag resting against his leg caught his attention and Harial reached a hand out to tug it closer, debating going to sleep without eating tonight. Eventually he decided heâd gone far too long without food or water, and he licked his dry lips as a reminder.
Barking was heard from outside, the scuffling of a group of wild dogs trying to get up into the caves ringing through the hollow earth. Harial paid them no mind, too tired to really notice. He lifted the warm waterbottle to his lips, trying not to think about how he had to steal it from another poor kid.
He regretted a lot about his life. A lot of it wasnât his fault â his dad kicking him out, living homeless for years, being dragged into training by Wu, not being the Green Ninja, etcetera. That didnât make it hurt any less. All he wanted to do was prove himself to Wu, repay him for the mercy he showed, but that didnât work as well as he thought.
Harial remembered the way Wu looked at him, sympathy in hisâ
No. He wasnât going to think about that, focus on the water.
Harial sucked in a breath, finally completing the movement to drink his water. He gulped down the liquid, resisting the urge to cough as the feeling tickled his scratchy throat. It was too warm to really get rid of the dryness, but at least he could feel himself waking up slightly.
As he examined himself, he realized how dirty he really was. Harialâs nails were growing too long, dirt and sand caked underneath them â the nail on his left ring finger was broken off and dried blood mixed with the dirt, but he couldnât do much about it. His hair was getting ridiculously long, and it was tangled worse than it did when he was younger.
He was also pretty sure he smelled terrible, considering how much mud, blood, and sweat heâd managed to collect over the years. It had been a few months since Harial found liquid water to bathe in, and multiple near death situations slowed the process of finding one. The desert wasnât exactly fun to travel through, especially on foot and without any cover during the day.
But, in the end, he did end up finding the cave. He had no idea where the Tomb was, but it was too dangerous outside. Heâd run across a pack of wild dogs in an attempt to find a shortcut through the sand, and they were still trying to hunt him down. Inconvenient.
Harial sighed aloud and let his head rest against the rock behind him, closing his dark-grey eyes after a moment. He was pretty sure he had food too, but he was still so tired.
âI can eat tomorrow,â Harial thought, âI have the time.â
A loud crash jolted Harial from his sleep. His head jerked up off the rock and suddenly he was coughing, feeling his throat clog up with something. He carefully stood up, thoughts fuzzy with the sleep still clinging to him, and he covered his mouth, spitting out sand. And then another crash sounded, and he leapt back out of instinct, shaken awake.
As soon as Harial realized those crashes were falling rocks, he was bolting in the opposite direction, charging for the entrance of the cave. His arm was lifted, trying to shield his eyes from the disturbed sand stinging them. Tears welled up in his eyes, both out of the sheer terror that shook him and the burn of the sand. He was only seventeen, he wasnât about to die nowâ
A loud cry of pain escaped as he fell to the ground, feeling his feet fly out from underneath him. Harial gritted his teeth against the pain and fear, trying to get himself back up. Except before he could move, another rock was shaken from the ceiling. It landed on his arm with a loud crunch and Harialâs head fell back as a scream ripped through his throat.
As soon as he opened his mouth, sand made its way into his throat, clogging up his airways. Harial hacked in an attempt to spit out the sand, struggling to breathe. He knew getting the rock off of him was impossible if he couldnât breathe properly, and soon enough he managed to clear up his throat enough to get some air down.
Gulping down the rest of the oxygen that he knew was slowly leaving the cave, Harial shifted his focus onto the rock. His arm was completely pinned and he was sure it had broken. He didnât want to move his arm, and so he opted to try and lift the rock with his wind.
Harial could feel tears streaming down his cheeks, stirring the dirt caked on his skin, but he didnât pay much attention to it. Somehow, everything hurt all at once, and he cried out from the exertion as his wind suddenly cut out. The rock hadnât budged at all.
No, he didnât want to die. Please, FSMâ
Harialâs head hit the cave floor as he finally gave up. Sobbing and shaking, he stared blankly at the caveâs wall. His body wasnât listening to him, every muscle in his body hurt. And even if he got out, what was there for him? More struggling and fighting for something he was never going to get? No, it was better to die now. Maybe heâll go somewhere happier.
âEven while crushed by a rock and suffocating, you fought for your life. I admire that about you, but clearly I have a spirit to break. Literally.â
âWho are you? Where am I?!â
âSoul Archer, take him to the Cells.â
âPeople get worse and it's their stories that end up forgotten because we canât stand an unhappy ending. The sick have to get better. The wounded have to heal. The betrayed have to forgive and find true love.â
âI was there for fifty years. Each year, I watched my only family forget me. Soon enough time passed and no one remembered me. I had been erased from the world, as if I never existed.â
âMy name means nothing anymore. People hear about a Master of Wind, and they know the element is no longer alive, but they donât know my story. I donât exist to them anymore.â
âAnd you know what? It's his fault, too. He could have told people about me, could have made my name something to remember. It was the least he could do. I spent five fucking years in that Hell! It was the least he coâ!â
ââŠâ
âIt's funny, in a tragic sort of way. Thereâs billions of souls in this Realm, billions of souls in the Cursed Realm, and billions of people in Ninjago, but only some of them will get remembered. And it's only the people who do horrible things that get remembered.â
âNo matter how good you are, no matter what you do to save the world, you will be forgotten eventually. People remember villains because they remember that hundreds, maybe thousands, suffered in their grasps. But in the end, it all fades into nothingness.â
âEvidence gets lost or destroyed, the world recovers, and the villainâs actions stop being told as stories. It may take a couple hundred years, but soon enough, youâre just another nobody.â
âNo one wants that, but it's true. Iâve seen it firsthand. It wasnât just me. One of my friends from the Cursed Realm, heâs been existent for about a century now. No one knows who he was. He doesnât even remember who he was.â
âYeah, it's sad, and not many people want to accept it. But it's all meaningless anyway. In the grand scheme of things, nothing matters.â
tw: violence and gore, assault, death (check the tags)
â
Morro gritted his teeth together, his eyes blazing with blind fury. He stood his ground on the roof of a building, his body trembling and tense from his own anger. As he glared down at Lloyd, seething, he felt the familiar craving for Lloydâs pain.
He wanted to make Lloyd hurt. Hurt like he had.
He raised both of his his arms as Lloyd leapt up through the air, feeling his element swirl around him without stirring his clothes or hair.
It was Lloydâs fault he died.
Lloyd let out a scream of terror as wind blasted into his side, sending him flying off of the floating piece of wood. Morro sneered, lips pulled back in a teeth-bared, wide grin. He looked unhinged, livid and terrified at the same time.
It was Lloydâs fault he was cursed.
Lloyd landed on the door, holding on for dear life. Morro leapt down, landing soundlessly in front of the boy. He raised his sword for the strike, before stabbing it directly through Lloydâs hand. Lloyd screamed again, attempting to wrench his hand away but ultimately failing.
Lloyd deserves to suffer, deserves every bit of pain he can offer.
âIt had to be you, huh?!â Lloyd screamed, gasping for air. He was standing on the roof of Roninâs old shop now, chest heaving and blood leaking from multiple wounds. âYou couldnât fucking let it go, it had to be you, and now weâre all suffering because of a five decade old grudge!â
Make Lloyd hurt. Hurt like he had.
Morro didnât listen anymore. He let out a yell of fury, lunging for Lloyd. The Sword was tossed aside as he went for Lloydâs neck, both of his hands tightening around it once he found it. He ignored Lloydâs struggles, slamming him into the nearest wall.
He was in pain for decades.
âYou took everything I deserved!â Morro cried out, his nails digging into Lloydâs skin. Lloyd squirmed and hit at Morroâs arms, trying desperately to free himself before he ran out of oxygen. âYou, a boy, who had no training! I built myself out of nothing, I was thrown away and came back with an entire fucking army! You are nothing!â
He was lost, starving and alone, while Lloyd got everything.
Morro paid no mind to Lloydâs struggles â no, he watched as Lloyd thrashed and kicked, enjoying every bit of it. He kept Lloyd against the wall, one of his hands straying to grip Lloydâs head. As he continued yelling, ranting about his life, he bashed Lloydâs head into the wall. Blood stained and burnt his fingers, but he didnât care anymore.
It feels good, doesnât it?
âYou were given everything I craved for! A perfect life, a perfect family! You got everything, while I was left for nothing! Our mom should have realized what she was doing.â Morro was crying now, tears burning his cheeks before falling on Lloydâs bruised and bloodied form. âShe was supposed to protect me.â
He should just kill Lloyd now.
Morroâs face wrinkled in disgust when he realized Lloyd had passed out against him. He flinched as soon as the blood made contact against his skin, tearing away from Lloyd. The Green Ninja fell limply against the ground, and Morro suddenly snapped his leg out, kicking Lloyd in the side as hard as he could. He was pretty sure he heard a crack or two.
Its more fun when theyâre awake.
âWake up, fucking brat!â Morro spat, his voice shaking before he swallowed quickly and forced it to calm back down. âIâm not done with you! You and Wu and our mom and everyone else- you all deserve to fucking see what Iâve achieved!â
Lloyd isnât responding. Get rid of him now.
Morro growled, walking over to snatch his sword. And then he felt the agony spreading over his back, Nyaâs yelling only in the back of his mind. He howled in pain, falling to his knees and dropping the sword once more.
Everyone gets what he wants.
âI should just kill you now,â Nya reasoned, standing above Morro with a waterball in her hands. Some of it dripped from her hand and landed on Morro, and the scream he let out was not pleasant. âYou probably just killed my friend, it's only fair.â
Donât accept defeat.
Morro shot a glare over to her despite the burns swelling up on his face. He was trembling a lot more noticeably now, his entire back scorched. Despite this, he was seething, sheer fury and adrenaline keeping his body functional.
He should use his element. Theyâre there for a reason.
Morro didnât move for a moment, until he mustered up the strength to bring his winds in. Nya was sent flying off the building with a cry of fear, and Morro shakily got onto his feet. He, once more, snatched his sword, heading over to Lloyd. Bleary and half-blind eyes met Morroâs, the green color of Lloydâs gaze tainted with blood from his sounds. Morro raised the sword again.
Do it. Make Lloyd pay.
With that, Morro stabbed the sword downwards. Lloydâs brief moment of awakening was destroyed as the sword pierced his neck, coating in blood rather quickly. As Morro yanked the sword back out, Lloyd fell again, more blood pooling around the hole in his body. Morro took in a shuddering breath, before halting again when his burns ached.
Go get the other Ghosts.
âYouâre having doubts.â
âNo. Iâm only thinking.â
âAbout your doubts.â
â....â
âTell me what they are. I can help.â
âWhat if he doesnât deserve this? And Iâm just.. taking someoneâs life away from him?â
âLook what he did to you.â
âI know that, but he was just a kid.â
âAnd you werenât?â
âThatâs different. Iââ
âHow is it different? Because you deserved it? Because you ran away? Tell me, Morro, what did he do that was so different?â
â...He has a family.â
âYou did too. Its not your fault yours hurt you.â
âButââ
âI know you want this. Youâve been seeking revenge for fifty years, Morro, are you really going to abandon it now?â
âYou're right.â
âI usually am.â
âWeâll attack when they open the portal. Iâll go through then. Donât worry, Iâll get you and the others out of here as soon as I can.â
â
Morro couldnât sleep.
He had been up for twelve hours straight, trying desperately to make sure Lloydâs body got the rest it needed, but his mind wouldnât settle down. Letting go of control would risk Lloyd retaliating and escaping, and he wasnât about to let that happen.
The ceiling of the cave was far up, away from Morro, so it wasnât his concerns about being crushed again. He wasnât worried about much of anything â as far as he was aware, anyway â so he wasnât sure what was keeping him up.
Did he have a problem with sleeping when he was alive? He couldnât remember.
Shifting from beside him caught his attention. He looked over, catching the green-eyed gaze of his friend as she settled down beside him.
âWhat are you thinking about?â Bansha asked, crossing her legs from where she had sat beside Lloydâs possessed body.
âI donât know.â Morro replied after a second, turning his head to stare at the ceiling again. âWhat weâre going to do when the Preeminentâs in control, I guess.â
Morro paused.
âWhat Iâm going to do about Wu.â
Bansha let out a sigh, dropping her gaze to stare at the floor. âWeâll handle it when we get there. You should try and sleep.â
âIâve been trying for the past day.â
âHold on,â Bansha huffed, her tone unreadable as she shifted positions again.
Morro flinched visibly when she rested her hand on his forehead, palm-down, but eventually relaxed when he realized she wasnât going to hurt him. He nearly leaned into the touch, realizing for another time how much he missed being able to feel â ghosts could feel one another still, but this was a different feeling â before recalling who he was and going still.
Bansha didnât seem to notice. Or if she had, she didnât say anything about it. Her gaze never strayed from Morroâs green eyes (he actually had grey ones, but they didnât change from Lloydâs possession) as she murmured an incantation under her breath.
Morro felt himself grow exhausted, each limb suddenly heavier on his body. He realized what she had done right as his eyes closed and he fell asleep, finding comfort in the warmth of tiredness.
ill throw their designs in a reblog
credit
https://picrew.me/image_maker/701767
â
@simpasorousrex
ill throw their designs in a reblog
i wanted time twins and morro content so here
to anyone just introduced to the au, harial is morro. in the au morro was a name given to them by the preeminent, and harial is their dead name (theyre nonbinary). this takes place in the past.
its not my best writing nor am i very proud of it but eh whatever
A loud knock jolted the boy from his sleep. His head jerked up from where it had been buried in his pillow and he stared at the door blankly for a few seconds. The boy was vaguely aware of the dried tears staining his cheeks from last nightâs sob session, and he raised one hand to try and wipe them off with his sleeve.
âHarial,â the voice that spoke up was stern and frustrated, making the boy- Harial, as he had been called- squirm unpleasantly. âGet out here, I donât have time for this. Iâve been trying to wake you up for half an hour now.â
Harial paused, silently wondering if it had been that long. He got up nonetheless, refusing to dwell on how much he likely upset his temporary caretaker. Wu was out for the summer to try and find new students â he was mostly looking for other Elemental Masters, but so far everyone was too old or too young. So he was given to the former Master of Time, Aeturnus, until Wu would return.
When the door opened, Harialâs hand swiftly slipping off of the doorknob (he always hated the feel of metal), the older man gave a relieved sigh. He stood a good height taller than Harial, who, even though he was already nearly ten, was significantly short. His mop of black hair was a lot neater than his sonsâ hair.
Speaking of those sons, the sound of yelling and scuffling in a nearby area made Harial realize the pair were probably nearby. Aeturnus seemed to come to the same conclusion, letting out an exhausted sigh and not saying anything else to Harial. The boy watched as he walked off towards the direction of the twins, left hovering awkwardly without anything to do.
Harial watched the empty hallway for a few seconds before heading back into his room, snagging the hairbrush that rested on the counter as he went. He settled on the edge of the pale white bed, brushing the tangles from his hair.
âHari!â The youngest of the twins, Acronix, suddenly appeared in the room with a flash of green light. Harial jumped, staring at him, as the twin grinned widely in a sort of triumphant way. âI got you something, since your dad is out and canât do it. You wanna see? I promise youâll like it!â
Harial blinked in confusion but slowly nodded, scooting aside on the seat. Acronix let out a laugh and shut the door so no one else would come in. His hands were tight around a cardboard box that Harial didnât really notice before. He moved to sit beside the boy, resting the box on the bed between the two of them, and flipped open the lid.
âTake a look, Hari,â Acronix encouraged, moving to cross his legs. His grin never faded. âI got him off the streets and it looked like he had bad owners before so I thought that you would do better. It is your birthday after all!â
It was? Harial didnât realize it was his birthday, he never really kept track. He didnât dwell on this that long either, leaning forwards to look into the box. His eyes widened when they met the form of a small kitten, it's fluffy grey-and-white fur poofed up from alarm. Acronix watched on, eagerly awaiting Harialâs reaction.
âWonât your dad get mad that you brought a cat home?â Harial asked, his voice as quiet as it usually was. He looked up, meeting Acronixâs gaze while carefully slipping a hand in to let the kitten investigate.
Acronix looked as if he hadnât even thought of that â which, to be fair, he probably hadnât. His grin fell and he hesitated, looking to the door of the room. He had left Krux behind to deal with their father, figuring since his brother was more of the type to care about rules he would have a way to evade Aeturnusâ punishments. The two of them didnât really feel like cleaning the entire house again, even if they were allowed to use their powers this time.
âKrux will handle it,â Acronix said after a moment, turning to look back at Harial. He was smiling again. âJust enjoy your present, Hari, you deserve it.â
Harial cast a half-smile, carefully lifting the kitten from the box once he was sure he wasn't going to scare him away. The kitten mewled in surprise but went with it, leaning into Harial once he was close enough. Acronix got back up, him and the box vanishing in a green light with only a yell of âgoodbye-have-a-nice-dayâ as he went. The boy laughed and forgot about cleaning himself up, focusing on the cat, whom he decided to name Thunder.
â
When Harial was eventually called down for dinner, he had to leave Thunder in his room. He wasnât very happy about it but he decided he could sneak the kitten some food later. As he neared the kitchen, it was clear Acronix and Krux were arguing again, based off the raised voices and exchanged insults of two small children. Both of them were nearing their eleventh birthday, only a year older than Harial himself.
Aeturnus scolding the twins was the last thing Harial heard before entering the kitchen, staring at the mess before him. Krux had managed to get his brother pinned down, his hand digging hard into the otherâs back. Acronix was struggling, both his eyes and hands glowing brightly as he prepared his powers. One of the chairs was toppled over, likely Acronixâs chair.
Reluctantly, Krux got off his brother, adding one last kick into Acronixâs side â it was a light kick, but the boy rolled over with an exaggerated groan nonetheless. âStop being so dramatic, Nix,â Krux scoffed, lifting Acronixâs chair with his bright yellow powers as he went to his own. âYouâre the one who started it.â
âDamn it, Krux!â Aeturnus sighed, spotting Harial in the doorway. âBoth of you, sit down, I donât have time for this. Harial, come in here and join us, Krux and Acronix will behave. Right, kids?â
Acronix muttered something along the lines of a profanity as he got up into his chair, glaring down at his plate of food. He ignored the taunting smile Krux gave him, sulking in silence as if he were turning four instead of eleven.
Harial hesitated a moment but went in nonetheless, sitting at the table too. He stared at the food uneasily, not liking the way it looked. Instead of saying anything, he kept his mouth shut, lifting the fork into one hand and keeping a loose grip. The texture still bothered him but he forced himself to ignore it.
At this point he just wanted to go home.
âHarial, your father is coming to get you tomorrow morning,â Aeturnus said, raising his gaze to look at the miserable boy. Harial only nodded, having to force himself to eat as well.
âAre you alright?â Acronix asked suddenly, leaning forwards in his chair with his elbows resting on the wooden table. He seemed to sense Harialâs discomfort, his head tilting to the side â not unlike a curious puppy. âYou look upset,â he elaborated a second later when he didnât get an answer.
Harial nodded again, avoiding the other boysâ gazes. Instead, he continued to eat, silently wishing for the night to hurry. He didnât feel any gratitude towards Aeturnus, and although heâd much rather be here than alone at the monastery, he really wanted Wu to hurry and come get him.
more ghost general bonding bc i fucking love them istg
Morro sucked in a deep breath, feeling the air rush through their fake lungs. Their sword was tucked into the hilt at their hip, the metal uncomfortable whenever it connected with their skin â and so they kept their leg transparent. The city of Stiix was dark with the growing night, and the people had been properly locked up.
The Time was coming.
Looking out over the railing, leaning forwards with their elbows resting on the wood, Morro realized how far theyâd really come. It was both a pleasant and unpleasant realization. Theyâd fought over and over again, dealt with challenge after challenge, until finally they were worth it. Until, finally, they were heard.
And their group had stuck with them through all of it.
Morro was incredibly wary of the others once they were let into the group. They knew Soul, heâd been there with them through everything the Preeminent put them through, but theyâd only heard of the others. They heard how Bansha was quick to lash out on anyone who crossed her, how she had arrived and made a place for herself so easily.
Theyâd heard how Ghoultar was let into the group because Soul took a liking to him too. Soul and Bansha came early, way earlier than the rest of them. They had time to connect and bond, but still, Soul had the patience and the will to put up with Morro. They werenât very liked in the Cursed Realm at first, considered too rebellious and bratty to be worth anything.
Everything was always about worth. Wrayth showed up thinking he was worthless, too. His parents had cursed his soul in a deal with a sorcerer to try and save him but in the end, it only backfired. None of them talked about their home lives often â Morro didnât know anything about Soulâs â but Wrayth still needed that support. Bansha noticed and for once, Soul wasn't the one to bring someone in.
They gave Morro a chance to realize where they stood. Soul reminded them how much they deserved what they did, fought back any doubts they had about anything. Bansha kept them on track and listened to their rantings whenever they got upset. Wrayth bonded with them over dying alone, far too early than they should have. Well, and the two of them often sparred together.
Morro didnât know where they would be right now without their friends. They assumed theyâd still be locked up in the Preeminentâs hold, tortured for another three decades. It wasnât a pleasant assumption. Sure, they didnât trust anyone at first, but now they had no doubt their friends would give their lives for them.
âMorro,â Soulâs voice ripped them from their thoughts and they looked over at the approaching archer, âthe Preeminent is almost ready. She will need more time, though.â
Morro nodded, their head dropping as they gazed down at the road. âWhere are the Ninja?â They asked, grey eyes scouring what they could see for the familiar sight of red or green â and the other colors, but those two caused the most trouble for Morro.
From behind them, Wrayth dropped down onto the wooden floor. Heâd been in the ceiling beams, perching there for the time being. His bare feet hit the ground soundlessly, and he walked up beside Morro, his blue-green eyes darting between Soul and Morro with a bright eagerness to them.
Morro looked over to him and hummed a greeting, to which Wrayth grinned to. Neither of them said anything though, Morro turning back to wait for Soulâs answer.
âNot anywhere near here," Soul answered, his voice calm â a stark contrast to Morro, whoâs shoulders tensed in something akin to an anxious frustration.
Morro grit their teeth and turned away, their back to the archer. They walked over to another railing, one bandaged hand heading to hover over the hilt of the sword. If the Ninja were coming to ruin everything they had worked for, they would shred the group apart themselves. Morro had gotten so far, and they werenât about to let a bunch of teenagers taken in by an old man defeat them and their friends.
The slightest tremble of their hands went unnoticed by Morro, as did the way the wind picked up around them. It was enough to send Morroâs cape billowing, threading through their raven-black locks and sending them into their face. As usual, their element responded to their emotion, a problem theyâd never really fixed. They were dead. Their element wouldnât improve in any way no matter how hard they tried.
Morro sucked in a deep breath, spinning around to look at Soul. Their eyes blazed, a silver light encasing the area around them. With bared fangs, they took a step forwards, meeting Soulâs golden and calm gaze with one of anxiety and frustration. They had to know where the Ninja were, they had to make sure their empire was not about to fall.
âWell, you need to find them then!â Morro spat out the words, swiping their spare hand through the air until their fingers were pointing straight at the wooden planks below them. âIâm not letting everything I worked for fall to the ground! Iâm not pissing off the Preeminent again, Iâm not-â
They cut themselves off, staring at Soul. Tears welled up in their eyes, and they were barely aware of the burn that caused. With a trembling lower lip, they whispered one last sentence.
âIâm not failing another person.â
Soul was patient through the outburst, as he usually was. This wouldnât be the first time Morro snapped, especially more recently when the stress they were under seemed to take over any sense of reason. He still sometimes didnât know how to help, but theyâd been friends for half of Soulâs life. And so, he went through the railing, paying it no mind as he approached them.
âYou wonât fail her,â Soul said, his voice hard with determination. All of the hours the two of them spent together, learning more about one another, seemed to be paying off now.
âMorro, listen to me,â he continued when the wind elemental shook their head, not believing their words. âYouâre not failing her. We will defeat the Ninja, and we will succeed. Look how far weâve made it already.â
Morro looked up at Soul, who had one hand extended out over Stiix. They followed the gesture, staring at the city with the green hue. Still trembling, they listened as the archer continued speaking and was vaguely aware of Wrayth watching closely.
âYouâve done all of this. You made it through everything people have put you through and you came back stronger than you ever were,â Soul watched Morroâs expressions as he spoke, making sure he wasnât saying the wrong thing. When Wrayth spoke up, his gaze switched to the youngest ghost.
âBesides, the Ninja donât stand a chance,â Wrayth said, rocking back on his heels as he did. He wasnât quite sure if he was helping nor how much, but Morro was at least listening, and that was good enough for him. âYouâve always been stronger than they have. Just because they have their powers and Lloyd back doesnât mean theyâre going to win.â
Morro let out a shaky breath and nodded slowly, feeling the wind around them slowly calm down. They would win this. Everything was going to be okay â there was no need to freak out.
â
And they did win.
Morro gazed out over the ruins of Stiix, crossing their legs as they settled on the back of the Preeminent. The Ninja were gone, Lloyd was trapped in another Realm, and their friends were here with them. It was finally over. They were exhausted and burns covered theirsâ and their friendsâ bodies, but everything was okay.
Soul was right. They didnât fail.
another clip of morro n soul rip
i truly am a simp for their friendship
TW: torture, death, ptsd flashbacks (this is the best way to describe it, the preeminent basically forces morro to remember his past)
Keep reading
*casually spites the writers for naming morro something that means nose/hill*
yes i was so mad abt the meaning of his name that i gave it a whole new meaning and a headcanon to go along with it- anyway this is unedited and bad writing rip lmao
The ghost took in a shuddering, nervous breath as they stared over the expanse of their home. They gripped their sword, the the hilt familiar and comfortable, with one hand while the other merely clenched at their side. Sure, they were nervous, but who wasnât at this time? It's not like they were about to submit to the fear either.
As far as they were aware, it had been decades. Twenty years since they saw the outside, twenty years since they had even left those deathly cells. Scars and burns covered their skin, concealed by a cloak that fluttered in the faint breeze. Their face was concealed by the hood of their cloak, but the slightest silver glow could be seen under the shadow.
While they waited, they were aware of another, bigger man walking out from the shadows. He stood a good head over them, his golden eyes shining underneath his own hood. One of his hands rested on their shoulder, a silent form of support that they silently accepted with a faint grin.
âSoul Archer, Harial,â A voice echoed in the cavern, feminine and almost motherly but at the same time deadly and venomous. âIt only took you both a few hours. Are you two ready?â
âAh, sorry, Master,â the man spoke up, his own voice gentle but clear. He, the supposed Soul Archer, sweeped his gaze over the cavern before nodding. âWe are ready.â
The smaller ghost remained quiet but their senses were on a high alert, ears and eyes craned for any movement. Subtly, their lips parted, fangs glinting in the limited light, as they attempted to catch a scent. There was no sound nor scent as a figure approached, seemingly walking on air. She held too much of an authoritive appearance to be another ghost despite her appearance.
In an instant, Soul Archer was guiding the smaller ghost onto their knees, much to their clear displeasure. They obliged though, lips curling back over cruel fangs in a frustrated snarl. The figure seemed unphased, merely smiling softly and standing directly in front of the two ghosts.
âHarial, I believe youâve been waiting far too long for this moment,â she spoke smoothly, her voice never changing in volume nor tone. Her mouth didnât move either, keeping the same gentle yet dangerous smile â these contacting features seemed to be her main ones. âAre you ready to give up your past and work for my goals instead? Are you ready to use everything you have been taught in order to aid me?â
Their breath seemed to catch in their throat despite not needing to breathe. Slowly but surely, they nodded, some of their jet-black hair tumbling out from the hood of their cloak. The displeasure at being forced to kneel faded as they waited, finally, to become a proper General.
âYouâll need to give up everything about yourself. Your name will be replaced. Are you prepared for that sacrifice?â
I don't have a choice, they thought dryly as they recalled their entrance to the realm. It was either this or back to the cells.
âYes,â they spoke up surely, despite their own thoughts. They didnât dare lift their head â or even move at all. âI will gladly sacrifice my past for you,â they added after a moment, some of their nervousness leaking into their voice as they shuffled their weight.
âGood,â the figure hummed, amused, âthen allow me to rename you, as a gesture of how far youâve come. To show that you are no longer Harial, but now youâre Morro, the Master of Wind and leader of the Ghost Army.â
âThe name, Morro, symbolizes breaking free of what held you back. It means youâre rising, fighting against those who have broken you. Youâve ascended past the poor boy you were before and now, finally, youâve reached who youâre truly meant to be.â
The ghost, Morro, finally lifted their gaze. The figureâs cyan eyes met theirs with a unique gentleness about them, something Morro definitely had never seen before while they were being tortured in the cells. Slowly, they rose to their feet again â Soul Archer had to nudge their leg to get them moving â and let out a dry, humorless chuckle.
âI suppose it fits, then,â Morro spoke, silver eyes gleaming in the darkness with a sudden surge of malice. They tilted their head back, their hair falling back into the concealment of the hood. âIâve finally broken free of your chains, Sensei.â
