#[Once Bitten and Twice Shy - Sydney - Nezha]

[funnel-webbed-au]

Soul of Silver, Heart of Tarnished Gold

Tag List: @caxycreations, @skellebonez

Nezha pushed open the gates to the garden of Erlang Shen's palace, the weight of his past clinging to his heels with every step he took beyond the threshold.

He could still hear their voices ringing in his ears, tripling the intensity of the migraine he was being forced to endure. It was all he could do to keep his eyes open in the harsh, unforgiving sunlight that always followed with His Highness's contentment.

For all of the ungodly things he had been forced to go through that day, at least it wasn't going to ruin Yang Jian's mood. Nezha knew the old dog was too optimistic for even this to shake him up too much.

The oddly soothing silence of the garden drowned out the scathing words in his head quickly and efficiently, thought not so much so as Yang Jian's reassurances. The thought of the retired general's hands behind his ears gave the weary Celestial the courage to press onward, searing sunlight be damned.

At last, he could sense the sudden change in material as his boots came into contact with the marble steps to the palace itself. A sigh of relief escaped the Deity, and without even thinking, he knocked on the gold-edged double doors.

The same person he'd hoped to see was the same one who opened the door for him. Nezha's strength finally caved, and he staggered into Yang Jian's arms, too tired to notice his guardian's concern.

The Illustrious Sage frowned. What could have worn his son out this severely? It wasn't as if he was inclined to any particularly exhausting activities. If any of the other Deities had attempted to coerce him, he decided, there would be Diyu to pay, but that could wait. Now, he had to take care of his beloved son.

"Oh, Nezha, my boy." The older Deity cooed, his voice pleasantly quiet. It was a sound the shorter Celestial had missed deeply. Yang Jian set his hands on his son's shoulders, gently working out the tension that had settled in his muscles over the course of the day.

"Before you even ask..." Nezha started, then shivered as he relaxed in the storm Deity's arms. "...yeah. I had a rough day. I'm not making dinner tonight; too tired."

Yang Jian ran his hand through Nezha's silky black hair, which was a bit of a mess from rushing through hallways so much. Gods, if Nezha couldn't survive without air in his lungs, they'd let him rest, but alas. Perhaps being a Deity was as much a curse as it was a blessing.

The storm Deity sighed. How could the others feel it was alright to overwork an already sick Deity? It was beyond him, and it would have made his blood boil had he not had something, or rather someone, more important than any grudge ever could be in his arms.

Sensing Nezha's knees were about to buckle, he picked up the shorter Deity, taking him inside to rest. Yang Jian made sure to scratch behind the other's pointed ears, drawing heart-melting purrs out of the one in his arms. A smile overcame the old dog as he nuzzled his son gently, further reminding him that he was loved.

Nezha muttered something in Mandarin under his breath, and the words made Yang Jian's heart skip a beat. If Nezha was really comfortable enough to admit it, he'd done his job right. He'd taken much better care of the younger Celestial than he'd initially thought.

Yang Jian's own purrs filled living room, joining Nezha's.

[funnel-webbed-au]

Movie Night

Nezha sat on the couch while the movie rolled on, almost unable to hear it over the droning sound of the ceiling fan. Frankly, he didn't care too much, either. The film was old and held historical inaccuracies so severe that he couldn't bring himself to give even a fraction of a flying fuck.

But it was the sound of a whip cracking to spur forth the horses that pierced the veil. MK and Mei turned to Nezha, confused as to why he'd suddenly sat up so straight. The way the Deity clenched the couch cushions at his sides so tightly that they expected him tear them rose alarm bells in both of their heads, and the two friends processed them in dramatically different ways.

Maybe the sights and sounds drew his interest, but that panicked bead of sweat on his face couldnt have been good, nor were the way his breaths were so shallow and fast. They were uneven, as if he couldnt breathe at all, and was struggling for air.

MK didn't know much of Nezha's story, and felt it rude to pry. However, if the situation brought this much stress to his friend, he wasn't going to sit idly by. MK reached for the TV remote and pressed pause while Nezha got himself together. The Dragon and the Stone Monkey could only wait, biding their time.

He could almost feel the whip against his skin all over again, those harsh, metallic edges to the segmented metal more than enough to break his skin. His dazed expression didn't do the appalling memories he was left with any justice. Nezha could have sworn he felt his own ichor rolling down his back from the force of the celestial chain whips that had been used to punish him, thoroughly inspired by the same punishments some militaries used.

Some sick part of him missed the harsh metal against his skin, while the rest of his being simply froze, zoning off as the static overwhelmed his senses. It was like his skin was on fire, yet he felt no pain. It was like his eardrums had burst, and yet they didn't bleed.

MK finally took a leap of faith, setting his hand on Nezha's shoulder in an attempt to get his attention. In an instant, the ancient Deity had MK subdued with his armillary sash, wrapped up tightly on the floor. Mei stopped before she could unsheathe her sword, examining the Lotus Deity briefly.

Those panicked breaths had to be indicative of fear.

“Yang Nezha." Mei stated flatly, calling the ancient Deity by his current, legal name. It seemed to snap him out of whatever it was, and he staggered back as mist filled his vivid pink eyes.

"I... I'm sorry, Xiaotian. I do not understand what-" Nezha stopped as MK and Mei both rushed to hug him. The pressure was familiar, something that tore at his heartstrings despite his best efforts to keep himself composed.

Mei reached up to wipe the Deity's tears, then squeezed his cheeks, prompting a noise of protest. "Why didn't you tell us this movie would upset you, dumb-dumb?! I would have changed it to something else! We've all been through enough, especially you." Mei let go and stepped back, rubbing her arm while Nezha processed the entire sequence of events, and the fact that MK was still clinging to him.

When the tremors died down and Nezha's mind calmed, he took a moment to get his bearings. Right, right... he was still in MK's apartment, not on a blood-soaked battlefield he'd been forced to stain further.

"...yeah. I think we should watch something else. For all of our sakes."

"So, what do you want to watch, big guy?" Mei replied, remote in her hand.

Nezha smiled weakly.

This was home, alright.

[funnel-webbed-au]

Scorched Petals

Tag List: @skellebonez

Riley's Notes: HI HI I'M ALIVE AND BACK FROM HIATUS also my brainrot isn't being useful right now posting will be weird

Nezha dragged himself through the doorway, the flames still licking at his body even though they weren't there anymore. The pain, the heat, the overwhelming sense of isolation and abandonment, it had been a very long time since he'd been punished so severely. He knew damn well it had been a bad idea to award the last Demons of Camel Ridge a begrudging salvation, and now that Li Jing had heard of his actions, he knew that his punishments would be far more cruel should he slip up on anything he was told to do. Disobedience, after all, was never tolerated well in a place like this.

The ancient Deity brushed past his beloved superior, the only man he would ever refer to as his father, and tripped over himself when the pain from the rings on his ankles overwhelmed his senses. As Erlang Shen reached down to help his student to his feet, the younger Deity smacked his hand away, hissing through his teeth in mind-melting discomfort.

"No. Don't... don't touch me. I'm still too warm." Nezha's words gave away what had happened scarcely an hour prior. The architectural Deity who had offered his hand pulled away, but did not leave his student's side. He had to be here to support him through such trying times, especially while Kui Mulang was busy drinking his cares away. Someone had to set a good standard.

It tore the old dog apart to see his son, his child, in such a state. How could anyone do this to their own blood? It completely escaped the ancient Deity how anyone would find such treatment permissible. Alas, there was little he could do in the state they were both in. Nezha desperately wanted to avoid being touched until the heat wore off, for fear of hurting someone with the way his powers were fluctuating.

"Just... give me something to do. Order me around if you want to, I just want to get these images out of my head." Nezha opened his eyes as he spoke, the vivid indigo now replaced with a vibrant, scorching shade of hot pink. It reminded Erlang Shen of the lotuses the Deity loved so dearly... but also of the fires that he harnessed and was burned by in equal measure.

"Nezha, my boy, would you do us all a favor? I'm certain I am not the only one who would appreciate a hot cup of tea right now." Those words seemed to relieve the tension from Nezha's body. Erlang Shen breathed a sigh as he relaxed, thankful that even such a small task could bring his son reprieve from the stress. It was a welcome distraction, a welcome return to the idea of 'normal' that he was so used to.

An idea that had been (literally) beaten into him.

Nezha filled the kettle, then turned the stove on and set it on the burner, waiting impatiently for the water to boil. As he scrolled through his phone, it dinged from a text message from one of his siblings. For whatever reason, Red Son wanted him in his lab. Nezha sighed. He figured the fire Demon wanted more samples of his ichor for experimentation. He couldn't blame him; the intense magics in it made it a fascinating lab reagent with a variety of applications before and after processing.

But that could come later. Now? It was time for him to rest and breathe off that memory.

That damned pagoda... and those heartless men... one day, he vowed, he'd make a statement so harsh, that Heaven would cast them out.

One day.

[funnel-webbed-au]

A Quiet Calamity

Tag List: @skellebonez,

Riley's Notes: Knock knock bitch, it's angst o'clock. Nezha has to go talk to Ao Guang because he feels obligated to. He is NOT received the way he expected because this AU is supposed to have themes of trauma and recovery. Also, CW for referenced suicide as per Nezha's myth. Also note I am working on something else at the moment and this blog isn't high on my priorities right now.

He'd always known this would be the hardest part.

As Nezha made his way through the underwater, yet watertight city, he could feel a sinking sense of dread, a sense of fear that made his skin crawl... and that made the venom in his veins burn far worse than the restraints that had been used to subdue him. The Deity flinched as he caught glances of the distant descendants of the still-living children of Ao Guang, innumerable Dragons who each paused to look at him.

He could feel them staring, feel their judgement, feel their hatred for taking one of their ancestors from them. Nezha sighed, crossing his arms as he allowed the Fire-Tipped Spear to be taken by the Huan-Tian Ling Sash. The armillary sash clasped the spear firmly, wrapping itself around the blade in a blatant reminder of the blood that still couldn't be washed off, despite its invisibility.

Each step began to feel heavier, like someone was dragging him down, trying to stop him from going further. Still, he persisted, even though he could feel the fear of his younger self as he struggled to slow him down, even enough to stop.

No.

The only thing he had to fear was fear itself.

Nezha walked up the steps to the grand East Sea palace, even though each piece of cut material felt sticky, like his feet would be glued to them. Still, he marched on, until he was close enough to knock on the front gates of such an enormous building.

The deity hesitated, but soon enough, two knocks on the palace doors reach his ears, and now all he could do was wait.

The East Sea Dragon King opened the doors. His eyes widened for a moment, then narrowed, brow furrowing. This man had some nerve to be here, at his palace, after all of the blood on his hands and on his spear. One of the Dragon's sons had met his fate to this man long ago, but the Dragon's wrath faltered as he saw the tired bags under the Deity's eyes, and the way he carried himself. He behaved as if he was under duress, and as if he had been forced here.

He had no will of his own.

"What did they do to you...?" Ao Guang's voice brought Nezha pause. The Deity's eyes widened as the electricity in his veins died down, and with it, his tremors. Well. If there was any kindness, any love, to be found in this terrifying place, he wasn't letting that lie.

Nezha sighed. "Only the ones that love me would believe the answers I have for that question, and I can count them on one hand. Hong Hai'Er, Bai Xian, His Highness Erlang Shen, and Lady Lian Lanhua. Although Sun Wukong and Chang'E might be applicable, which would make six."

The East Sea Dragon King released a heavy breath.

"I will not press you for an answer you are unwilling to give... but you underestimate how many cartoonishly evil acts I have heard of, witnessed, and done..."

Nezha couldn't help but restrain a chuckle. Cartoonish evil? He'd been privy to that, privy to the worst of it. He'd been a victim of it. Sure, Ao Guang had his reasons, but nothing justified it. Nothing ever would.

"Like forcing a child to-" The Deity stopped and pulled away, the icy claws of dread sinking into his heart.

"...I... I should take my leave-"

Ao Guang grabbed his wrist.

When the shorter immortal turned to him, he realized that Ao Guang's brow had furrowed, expression and thoughts muddled.

"...No. This needs to be addressed.

I didn't have the right."

With those words, it felt like the world was closing in on him. Nezha could feel the stares, feel the judgement from across the city. His lungs felt like they were filling with fluid, filling with his own blood... just like that day. His vision swam as the steps shifted beneath his feet, all while the Dragon King remained steady on them.

Ao Guang caught the ancient Deity when his legs gave way beneath him. Some part of him just wished it would all stop, wished it would wait for him. But nothing and no one would wait for him...

He needed to rest.

~ ~ ~

Ao Guang carried the tiny Deity through the halls, arms firmly yet gently clasped around him. Where a 6'2 Deity had once stood and walked alongside him, a frightened, 4'6 child was now in his arms, trying so hard to trust one of the people who'd hurt him the most.

As the East Sea Dragon King sat down in his chambers, he let Nezha rest on his lap, running his claws through the little boy's hair. It was hard for him to miss the tremors from him that resulted from every touch, no matter how light, and it made Ao Guang's heart feel like it was made of lead.

"...do you promise...? Promise not to be a scary dragon...?"

Ao Guang retracted his claws, carefully adjusting to scratch behind Nezha's ears. Six hundred years ago, he wouldn't have known how important such a small gesture would be, but he'd come to appreciate a man he hadn't even liked before as a dear friend. It was only natural at this point.

Nezha released soft purrs, breaching the relative quiet of the room. For once, the scales felt familiar, soothing, and he couldn't help it. The tension in his body melted away entirely, as if he hadn't felt like he was choking on the steps mere hours before. As his heart slowed and his eyelids grew heavy, he finally felt the magics in his veins balance themselves. Finally, the volatility was quelled for a time, and Gods, had he missed this.

Ao Guang didn't move him, even after the little Deity fell asleep there.

Footnotes: FW!Nezha sometimes regresses as a trauma response and defense mechanism. It's the only way he can fully block out his traumatic memories for lengths of time. This is how I chose to integrate both his child and adult forms into this AU, as both depictions are important.

[funnel-webbed-au]

It's just my... reflection... in the mirror, nothing more...

Why am I still afraid?

Digital art. Done with Krita, and I quite obviously do not know how to shade yet, but I did what I could to make this design unsettling. I also apologize for my proportions not being quite right. It is supposed to feature a corrupted version of his outfit, of his tail, and twisted variations of his motifs while his artifacts retain their divine power. Note that Sydney's ichor is too impure for him to summon his celestial armaments, outside of the Wind-Fire Wheels and Red Armillary Sash. Also note how his hair has a motif from the Lady Bone Demon, as well as the pagoda-like shape. This was not intentional at first, but I went with it because it adds to the twisted air of Nezha's new form as Sydney.

This is by no means a final design, but it feels like an upgrade from what is currently set as the blog icon.

[funnel-webbed-au]

Memories, Stained With Blood; Hearts, Carved From Sinew

Tag List: @skellebonez, @caxycreations

Riley's Notes: Hurt/comfort that also scratches the surface of the cruelty Nezha endured in the Funnel Webbed AU. All applicable CWs are in the tags.

It took very little to break the Central Altar Marshal. One just had to know what buttons to push.

Li Jing knew what buttons to push, knew where to stick his knife.

Nezha stood on the peak of the mountain, his body shaking with stress, with dread, at what he had finally gained the courage to speak about. There was no going back now, there couldn't be. He'd been struggling against himself for weeks to get himself this far. He had to tell his friend.

Sure, Sun Wukong wasn't the best kept together, but every once and a while, everything fell apart, and the Monkey King wasn't half bad at picking up the pieces and making sure everyone he cared about was okay. Nezha, thankfully, fell into that category of people he cared about, but it wasn't like either of them would admit it.

Seeing the ancient Deity in such a state made Sun Wukong wary.

"Listen, I know... I know I do not have the right to be here, but I spent a lot of time preparing myself for... a heavy topic of discussion I wish to make you aware of." Nezha swallowed hard, struggling to get his tremors under control. He could do this. He had to, he didn't have much of a choice. This was one of the first steps to truly making sure everyone knew the hideous, gory details of the way Heaven had liked to treat him... he had to give context to Sun Wukong for his sharp change in demeanor after they'd first met.

"...do you want to know why I... why I changed? Because that's what this is about."

Antares stepped aside as he saw the Deity's tremors worsen, as if he was ready to collapse at a moment's notice. Although they didn't have an obviously healthy relationship, the two had a deeper level of understanding between them than anyone could expect...

...for the darkest reasons imaginable.

Nezha took a seat in one of the padded chairs around Sun Wukong's recently refurbished cabin, moments before his knees would have buckled from the weight his heart was carrying with him. It was a wonder how he stayed standing, how he kept going and how he kept trudging forward... but a select few knew that he did it because it was all he knew. It was all he'd been taught. For all of his power, for all of incredible statuses...

The Central Altar Marshal breathed deeply before he spoke, his words uneven and catchy in his throat. "...you asked me when I stopped being fun, when I stopped being the bright, reckless and carefree young man that I'd once been... your answer is stained with my blood, Sun Wukong."

The monkey king paused, expression turning somber as he heard the words of one of his closest friends. The sun monkey turned to shut the door, then took his headdress off before he pulled a chair over. He sat across from his old friend, someone he'd drifted from when the tides changed and some fourteen hundred years had passed.

Nezha swallowed harshly, even as the venom in his veins burned his throat, reminding him that his time was running out. He had to make his peace before his mind was lost to the toxins coursing through his ichor.

"...they hurt you."

Sun Wukong's words were filled with a grim finality, a grim sense of certainty, like the deathblow that had been dealt to Nezha long ago, the blow that started the beginning of the end of the person he once was, of who he wanted to be. Nezha swallowed in response to those words, and without chiming anything in return, he broke his glamors...

...and the Monkey King's five times immortal heart stopped.

Those burn rings around the Deity's neck, upper arms, elbow, and wrists weren't even the half of the story, and it was still more than enough for the sun monkey to pause. Who could do such a thing to a Deity of such a high caliber? Who would dare to hurt his friend?

"Who."

The weight that a single word could carry could have never been more obvious. That word carried with it the crushing weight of a Demon who'd clawed his way tooth and nail to godhood, and had been thoroughly battered and shamed many steps of the way. That hatred was something Nezha had only heard of from those that hated the Monkey King.

Perhaps even those biased had a grain of truth.

It made Nezha's blood run cold. He refused to answer, and instead, the lotus on his tail closed, its pink shifting to indigo. As its scent dissipated, Sun Wukong blinked before he moved to sit next to his friend. He had to be there for him. Violence wouldn't solve anything now. His grudges, his hatred, his wrath could wait.

Nezha was more important, and he always would be.

Sun Wukong exhaled, and he made sure that the other immortal could rest, even if it was just for one day. He'd make sure it counted, make sure the troubled Deity had some support. He may never get what he needed, but at least he wouldn't be alone through his lowest points.

"I hate to admit it, Wukong, but..." The elder Deity hissed between statements as his cheeks flushed, and he spoke through gritted teeth. "I have frequent nightmares when I try to sleep alone. The worst part is that they tend to fail to wake me up."

Antares just smiled weakly. "Well, you're always welcome up here, even though it's... probably messier than you're used to... and I thought you said you didn't trust me."

"It's more complicated than that... I'll explain tomorrow." The Deity yawned, shaking his head with a soft grumble. It ill became him to be so tired before nine even hit, but it couldn't be helped with the state of his health.

Sun Wukong nodded, and as Nezha laid down in the spare bedroom, the monkey went to lie with him. He made sure to wrap his tail around Nezha's, which caused a lot of tension to evaporate from him.

As long as he had his friends, as long as he had his family, come Hell or high water, he'd get out of this. One way or another.

[funnel-webbed-au]

Stitches / Landslide

Tag List: @skellebonez, @caxycreations

Riley's Notes: I'm back on my bullshit with Syntax being an emotional wreck and Huntsman and/or Sydney being there to ground him. Their bond is everything to me as is Nezha and Yang Jian's.

Syntax winced as he put a little too much weight on his bad leg, then stopped to sit down. The spider couldn't help but sigh as he recalled when his cousin had stitched up the grievous wound. He swore softly, rolling his pants leg up so he could see the still-healing wound beneath it, which was still accosting him. That would be one hell of a gnarly scar when all was said and done.

The sound of uneven, unsteady footsteps stopped the spider's heart as if the sound had killed him. The spider coated his claws in caustic venom, determined to survive whatever came next. There was no way in Hell he was going to let Stella-

It wasn't Stella.

He breathed a deep sigh of relief as the owner of those unsteady feet came into view. The black haired spider that had entered his lair had less of a distant glaze in his eyes than what Syntax was used to seeing. The younger spider tilted his head, raising an eyebrow as he did so.

"What brings you-" The tech spider stopped. He had to; Sydney had crossed the room in a heartbeat, staring at Syntax with an unblinking gaze. He couldn't tell for sure if the larger spider was lucid, and his racing heart didn't intend to do him any favors.

It was then that Syntax saw Huntsman. He nearly leapt out of his own skin at the sight of his cousin. One moment he wasn't there; the next, he was. It was freaky how quickly and effectively Huntsman could move, a stark contrast to how jittery and uneven Sydney's movements could be.

Pierre couldn't help but tense up as he returned his attention to the funnel web spider in front of him. Reality felt like tar as the tech spider felt the funnel web spider wrap his claws and arms around him in a hug, a gesture of love, of support. One sorely needed by Pierre.

Huntsman only smiled, releasing a soft huff as he watched Sydney give the comfort he could to the younger spider, and for once, Syntax wasn't shaking in the slightest. As he wrapped his metal claws around Sydney in return, the four eyed spider blinked, then smiled, almost as if a vestige of the gentle, yet chaotic person he'd used to be was still there.

Maybe Nezha was still in there.

Pierre relaxed, gripping onto the other spider, listening to the soft, reassuring purrs that emanated from him. Part of him was still there.

Part of the beautiful person that Lian loved to talk about.

[funnel-webbed-au]

Flashing Signals

Nezha sighed as he sat down in the armchair across from his adopted father, then took a cup of tea off of the tray Kui Mulang brought for him. It tasted sweet, unlike anything he'd ever been allowed in the memorable past. There was a lot he had missed, and a lot that he hadn't. There were a lot of memories made, a lot of changes, a lot of growth and shifting tides.

He still wasn't ready.

The Deity swallowed harshly, setting his tea town while Erlang Shen only passed him a confused, curious glance. He didn't understand why Nezha was so uneasy. He'd cultivated this palace to be a place of respite, of reprieve from whatever some of the courts were prone to do. So why was Nezha still nervous, still restless?

"I don't... I don't understand." Nezha finally spoke, unable to hold it back any longer. "You're never mad at me, you never take anything out on me. I'm not... I'm not a target, I'm not a disgrace. Why... why weren't you mad at me when I dropped that vase?"

Yang Jian had to do a double take when he heard those words. It was all so startling to here those words from the younger Deity, and it was... it was also painful to hear him speak like that. He swallowed uncomfortably, but forced a smile anyway.

He'd always been a great liar.

"Because, Nezha, that incident was an accident. You were overworked, and neither of us accurately gauged your exhaustion and stress levels that day. I could never lay a hand on you." The elder Deity took a sip of the tea he had on the table next to him, then stared into the cup. It was his favorite, most soothing blend, and yet, it did nothing to dethrone the pit that had been dug in his stomach. The realization of the truth wasn't something he was ready for, even in all of his years of life. He'd never encountered this before.

Nezha wasn't acclimated to being loved.

At least, that's what Erlang Shen suspected. He sighed, setting the cup back down before he approached Nezha. His heart sunk when he saw that guarded look on the other Deity's face, controlled and unreadable, and the tension in his body was evident of his distrust. Even now, there were many things the younger Deity wasn't ready to share, to show his adopted father.

So be it. Erlang Shen patted Nezha's shoulder gently, but didn't speak to him. Instead, the old dog went to prepare dinner, Nezha's favorite. Hopefully it could take the edge off.

He knew he couldn't make Nezha trust him, but he knew he'd taken some of the right steps in recent years. One day, he knew he'd hear the Deity call him his father. He knew that one day, the Patron of Children would trust him.

He handed Nezha a bowl of noodles a while later, and the Lotus Deity passed a nod of appreciation towards his superior before he dug into it. While his companion was eating, Erlang could only wonder what the extent of the damage to Nezha's psyche had been, and hope that it could largely be mended. Time would tell.

If only he had to foresight to know what the future held.

If only he hadn't been so naive.

[funnel-webbed-au]

A Shiny New Royal Heir

Riley's Notes: Nezha and Lian have a very cute platonic dynamic. Also, RIP Nezha. Welcome to paperwork hell, bud, same hell Erlang Shen has to deal with. Also, this post was written by Onyx and proofread by me. Onyx highlights their titles in pink.

To say that the Deity was bored would be an understatement. He was completely and utterly devoid of stimulation, not a familiar soul in sight to help him manage his strict and stressful duties. The issue was how ready he had(n't) been to take up his father's mantle, and there was not really any other solution to it than let him learn on his own, which was how he found himself in such a tricky situation in the first place. Prince Nezha, heir to His Highness Yang Jian was unhappy.

Unhappy in his role, unhappy without his beloved snake and certainly unhappy with how many imbecilic Celestials felt the need to send their complaints straight to the palace instead of using their brains to sort the issues out themselves. Was that really too much to ask? Apparently so. He had never known just how infuriating some people could be until he was already far too deep to escape his anxiety riddled torture, so he was stuck listening to the high pitched whine of whatever citizen was giving him a headache at any one time. Anything would be better than that.

Alas, he knew he could not leave his duties to collect dust. He would let his love for a special Storm Deity motivate him into keeping his childish habits and behaviors at bay for long enough to prove that he could handle the weight of his new, freshly polished, gold crown. He dreaded what may happen if he didn't... which forced his posture straight and his chin up, his façade no longer that of a traumatized child, but instead one of a war-hardened, invulnerable soldier. Soon enough that would no longer be an act, but instead the whole, undeniable, truth.

A long sigh left his lungs as he moved on to the next stack of written requests, the piles of paper slowly becoming painful to deal with and simultaneously getting taller every time he looked at them. When three-year-old Nezha said that he wanted to be a war general when he grew up, this was almost certainly not what he had meant. Ah, how present Nezha longed to regain that childish innocence. Realistically, it wasn't going to happen, but a man could hope, right? That wasn't really the prince's style even though he'd been shifted to different views a little.

He was shaken out of his thoughts by the entry of his beloved peach blossom, her footsteps near silent but loud enough to his overly sensitive ears that he knew she was coming. Hurrah! A savior! The tea that she was carrying with her smelled absolutely delectable, and the sweet treats that he knew his 'mother' had made almost rivaled it. "Nezha, dearie, you need to take a break. You will burn yourself out otherwise, and we can't be having that." Her soft, mellow tones were enough to convince his tired mind nigh on instantly, so he took the tea.

She seemed relieved that he hadn't fought her gentle orders, and it shone in the way she happily joined him behind his desk, resting on the hanging chair that he'd commissioned specifically for her. For some reason, any room that she was in almost immediately lost any tension that it had been carrying. It was weird, but Nezha wasn't about to complain, her presence lifting so much stress off of his tired shoulders. She was not even doing anything, just sitting behind him and sipping at her tea, and she was, miraculously, still the only medicine he would ever need

"Thank you, Lanhua. Your efforts in assisting me are appreciated and certainly do not go unnoticed. I do not know how to repay you, but I promise that It'll happen at some point." She clearly wasn't in the mood to be serious, as his words only elicited a giggle and a slight head shake, but even still, her point came across clearly: her kindness was free, he did not owe her anything. Upon Nezha figuring out what she meant, another sigh left his mouth but this one was just somewhat exasperated, all stress gone from his systems for a time

It was astounding, how she knew exactly what to do to get him to relax, but he wouldn't trade it for anything. He loved cared for her.

Author's Note!

I am incredibly sorry about the poor quality of this one! Wrote it late at night and almost fell asleep before finishing it, so it isn't my best work (Have a future!Nezha design as an apology). Thanks everyone for your support!

[funnel-webbed-au]

The Last Grain Of Sand

Riley's Notes: I had a lot of fun with literary devices in this scene. I vaguely referenced some of Nezha's in-universe history for this, and I am loving the delicious angst it alludes to.

Nezha staggered into the cave, fully prepared to chain himself up to prevent himself from wreaking havoc once the inevitable had finally happened. He could feel his own veins tearing asunder, burning from the intensity of the venom in them. It had grown all too powerful in the recent months, a combination of stress and uncontrollable emotions driving it forward at an exponential rate.

The Deity coughed up the venom that was dripping from his fangs, now more than ever. It was a sickly green fluid, the same as his now tainted ichor. The toxic fluid sizzled, leaving indentation on the cave floor.

A sigh of defeat drew itself out of the ancient Deity, one of the last coherent sounds he'd be able to produce for several years, and although that didn't sound like very long on his timescale, it would certainly feel like centuries. Nezha chuckled bitterly. It was just the result of his recent commitments, he assumed, that his fate would come so much sooner than he thought it would. He didn't have time to say his farewells, not properly.

It was a pity.

The pink in his eyes, brought upon from the intense stress, began to dull as the venom got into the capillaries around his eyes, and it soon stained them with an unnerving shade of yellow-green.

A mixture of blood and venom began to fill his mouth, and all he could do was kneel as it continued to take hold. There was no mercy here, no love, no solace, just like it had often been. It was strangely soothing that he was alone in this dire time... at least no one had to see him like this. No one had to watch as his mind began to melt away into darkness.

What was his name?

Who was that man he was just thinking of...? And where did these tears come from? Who was he? Who were they?

As his memories, as his knowledge, began to cloud, he was filled with questions he once knew the answers to, and as the first claw emerged from his back, he released an unearthly screech; a sound only a monster whose existence alone was condemned by the Divine could produce. He staggered, struggling to his feet as every sense in his body screamed at him that he was in danger, that something had come for him... but there was nothing, despite the green-tinted ichor that rolled from the new wound in his back.

A second screech announced that another claw had come out of his back. What was that? Who was doing this to him, or what? It hurt so damn much, he wanted blood for this. No one was going to kill him without him putting up a fight.

The adrenaline in his blood only made it burn more, and that night, a new spider screamed his voice raw until he could scream no more, his voice torn asunder by the caustic properties of his own venom.

~ ~ ~

Someone was coming. He licked the venom off of his lips, as it had been dripping from his fangs constantly, even in his poised state. He'd been hanging in his web from the ceiling for weeks now, and something had finally entered. Prey, he hoped. It wasn't like he couldn't subsist without food, but some part of his fractured mind demanded it. Perhaps it was a remnant of who he used to be.

Oddly, the humanoid figure simply stepped away from his toxin-laced webs, infuriating the funnel web spider. Here was his prey, unabashedly venturing into his domain without a single care, and with enough skill to avoid getting stuck in his trap. It was enough to make the spider's veins burn, and his venom soon dripped out of his mouth as the adrenaline overtook him.

He dropped from his web without a single sound, directly behind the intruder, but at such close proximity, he got the chance to count their limbs.

Eight.

This wasn't prey, this was his own kin. No wonder this other being knew his domain so well and was so unafraid of it. The tension in the larger spider's body evaporated, along with the adrenaline rush, quickly replaced by confusion and curiosity. The moment the smaller spider turned to him, his eyes widened.

Syntax sighed as he caught his bearings. So, she'd turned another one. It was only natural that she would make such excellent use of his service for her own ends. Knowing damn well what would put the other spider at ease, Pierre reached out to place his hand on the funnel web spider's cheek. The predator blinked all four of his jade green eyes, one set after the other.

"...so she got you, too, hm. I'm not surprised... at least I'm the one that found you, so I can be the one that..." Pierre paused. He would be the one that got to name this spider. He would have that on Estelle, and maybe she would let it slide. No, she had to let it slide. At this point, she knew she was a target, and that he'd make her life Hell if he could. As the larger spider adjusted to truly appreciate the tender, almost familiar caresses, Pierre spoke fateful words, words that laid the first brick of what was to come.

"...your name. Your name is Sydney, for you are a Funnel Web Spider."

[funnel-webbed-au]

The Sparks of Hope

Nezha cringed after the shards scattered across the floor at his feet. He'd been shaking far too much to be able to hold such a beautiful vase without dropping it, and he should have known better. Now, he could only brace for the strike that would inevitably come.

But there was nothing.

Nezha opened his eyes, confused. Why had he not been struck? Wasn't it... normal to be struck for something like that? Erlang Shen sighed and shook his head, disappointed, but not angry. Why wasn't he... why wasn't he angry? The lotus Deity tilted his head, confused, but when Erlang's eyes met his, the raven stiffened, then bowed hastily.

"I, er, apologize deeply, Your Highness." He spoke quickly and eloquently, desperate to avoid being hurt for such a mistake. He couldn't afford to be anything but perfect, anything but the golden boy, the golden soldier, the most perfect and powerful Marshal that Heaven had to offer.

"It was an accident, my boy. Don't fret. Sure, perhaps there won't be another vase exactly like that, but it is a small tragedy that would pale in comparison to what it would be if the shards had harmed you."

...what?

The younger of the two Deities could hardly wrap his mind around what he had just heard. Erlang... really did care for him, didn't he? It almost brought a smile to the Marshal's face, but not quite. So close, yet so far. Nezha was quick to fetch a broom and dustpan, cleaning up the shards of broken china so that his superior wouldn't have to kneel. Such would be hard on his back, after all, and Nezha hated to see him suffer.

With the shards disposed of, the Storm Deity passed his protege a nod of approval, glad to see that he was as diligent and responsible as his reputation implied. The gesture drew a soft sigh of relief, no, contentment, from the Marshal, who soon reveled in soft scratches around his pointed ears.

"Thank you, my boy. It would be a shame to have had to disturb one of the three housekeepers at such an hour. I am very proud of you that you kept your composure... and I assure you, I will not strike you in anger. May Buddha cast me down should I ever harm you." The gentle, reserved affections that Nezha received while his superior spoke only served to convince him more of the storm Deity's sincerity. He didn't bite anymore, not if he didn't have to.

Maybe, just maybe, Nezha would get used to this.

One can hope.

[funnel-webbed-au]

Lunar Tides and the Price of Sanctity

Chang'E opened the door of her home and took a deep breath of the cold lunar air. There were some perks to living on the moon, and one of them was the almost eternally unbroken silence that the stars had to offer. Today, however, was an exception to this rule.

She smelled blood, and it made her veins run cold. Someone was there, and they were likely hurt. It wasn't unusual for certain Deities to be wounded in their lines of work; the scent made her spine tingle, regardless. As Chang'E followed the smell of blood and the trail of powerful magic that hung in the air, she found strange flowers blooming on the moonrock, where life shouldn't have been able to grow.

Her interest piqued, the Goddess of the Moon kneeled down to examine the flowers, and soon discovered that each one was sprouting from a tiny pool of ichor, the blood of another Deity. The colored tints on the petals made her heart skip a beat. They were pink, which reminded her of... no. It couldn't be.

She picked up the pace, and soon discovered that one of her closest friends was washing severe injuries in one of the ponds around her garden. She had mixed feelings about that, for on one hand, his ichor would nourish her garden, and on the other... hiding himself away like this wasn't healthy, and they both knew it.

Every drop of the Grand Marshal's golden ichor brought clarity to the water. Perhaps it was a cruel joke from the one who had granted his wish for a new life; perhaps it was simply tied to his powers as a nature Deity. Whatever the case was, his golden ichor turned the water from a soft grayish hue to a shining, translucent teal. The potent magic that filled the water would fuel Chang'E's garden for a long time.

...but nothing was worth the price of another's happiness.

The Goddess of the Moon approached the Central Altar Marshal, resting her hand on his shoulder. His muscles clenched, and he turned to her fast enough to startle the goddess, who fell backwards onto the gray rock sheet beneath them both.

A deep sigh escaped from the ancient Deity. He'd never meant to scare her, he never wanted to hurt anyone. Yet, it was all he was good at, or so he thought. He watched with interest as Chang'E disappeared into her home. She was leaving him; who wouldn't?

What caught him off guard next was when she came back.

The goddess had returned with a first aid kit, and as Nezha's eyes widened, she began to treat his wounds. It was a small gesture of kindness that caused the tension in his shoulders to evaporate. Even though his wounds wouldn't take too long to heal, Chang'E was still taking time out of her day, and maybe her livestream cooking show, to take care of him.

It was honoring, really, and reminded him that his few friends truly did love him.

[funnel-webbed-au]

For There Is No Hell like Heaven

As Nezha shed his armor, he swallowed harshly. He knew what laid beneath his signature red sleeveless shirt, and he didn't want to see it, but he knew he needed to bathe, needed to clean those scars. He paused to breathe, for it was all he could do to prepare himself for the wounds that would almost undoubtedly reopen under the hot water and the weight of his own grief.

His shirt came off far more easily than it should have. The horrendous mark right over his sternum and the marks around his major joints made him flinch. He hadn't gotten a good look at them in a while, for he never let his glamors down. He remembered who had done this to him, but he wasn't mad about it anymore. It was just the way it was, it was just his fate. Even the people that loved him sometimes felt he needed to be contained, and then there were the chain whip marks on his back... and the burns that had never healed around his worst scars.

They might never heal.

Nezha knew he'd have to live with that, as much as he hated that fact. The lotus Deity sighed, then turned around so he could examine the lash scars on his back courtesy of the multiple mirrors in his bathroom.

The scars didn't look any better than they had the day they had finished healing as much as they would. The Deity flinched as the memory of the chain whip against his skin returned with the same hateful fury that only Li Jing could deliver. That man never had the right to be referred to as his father, and Nezha knew it.

He'd just been naive, once upon an illusion-filled time.

Nezha ran the shower water to his favorite temperature, which was just a little too hot for most to handle. Not him. He couldn't help but relax as the water pulled the stress out of his body. Hot water had always been as much of a blessing as sky water, and he never got enough of either of it... though alas, he rarely had the time to really enjoy it, especially before Erlang had struck Li Jing down from his status as one of the Lords of Heaven.

It wasn't too long before the Deity remembered his responsibilities, remembered what others expected of him, and as he scrubbed his scars clean, he winced. Sure, he had an incredible pain tolerance, but with his heart in such a vulnerable state, his scars seemed to hurt much more under the surface of the sponge he used.

Gritting his teeth, Nezha finished scrubbing the dirt off of his back. He'd been knocked around a lot in today's training session, a minor inconvenience normally, but today? It was annoying and painful. He'd have to get back at his mentor for that.

As he stepped out of the shower, the Deity released a deep sigh. The mirror really highlighted the dark circles of permanent exhaustion below his eyes, and the harsh LED light only made it worse. The intensity of the light finally got to him, as he figured it would, and he was forced to turn the light off. Once his eyes adjusted, he dried himself off the old fashioned way, taking his time to savor the soft towels his shifu had bought for him. Unlike most... the fabric these were coated with didn't rub against his scars much.

He'd have to thank Yang Jian for that later.

[funnel-webbed-au]

A Coronation for the Crown Prince and Princess

She couldn't help but be nervous. This was the first time she'd ever be seen by the public as who she really was, and she couldn't even have her beloved by her side. The two of them had been given strict orders to stay separated until they could stand side by side at the ceremonial altar together; as much as she hated to admit it, Nezha had always been a rule follower and now was no different.

As her serpentine companion helped her with the final preparations of her hair, makeup and clothes, her mind filled with doubts and more anxieties than she could possibly count, even though she knew everything would be fine; her father had looked into her near future with his truth-seeing eye and seen only good things. Hopefully that wouldn't change.

The minutes that she had left before showtime disappeared in the blink of an eye, and she was suddenly standing in front of rows and rows of people looking at her in all her beauty and warrior-like glory. How Nezha did this, she would never understand. It was all so intimidating and intense, not even her intelligence could rival the weight of the stares now resting on her shoulders.

Still, she started taking the most important steps of her life with her head held high and her pride on full display; she would not be reduced to nothing in that moment, not after she'd fought so hard to get there. That was the day where years of labor and hard work would pay off, and like Diyu if she wasn't going to savor it and wring it for all it was worth. No, that wasn't like her.

What was like her, however, was the way her face lit up as she saw her beloved lotus standing at the ceremonial alter and beaming at her as he waited patiently like he always did. There was never a moment were he wasn't soft and gentle with her, and the public didn't cause an exception to that rule. His palms were so soft as he took her hands in his and gave them a reassuring squeeze, and that familiarity was all she needed to feel comforted.

As they met each other's eyes, they couldn't help the giggle that they shared between them; everything they did was as one person instead of two, and this overly decadent ceremony would only cement that. He smelled like her, and she like him. He wore a peach blossom in his hair, and she always donned a lotus. Her sash was a vibrant pink as it constantly moved and twirled around her arms, and his was a bright red that suited his personality so much better than any other color.

She suddenly realised a most wonderful thing, and she simply couldn't keep it from Nezha, not when they both needed to hear it.

"I could do anything with you by my side." She had only just managed to keep her voice low enough that the officials standing in front of them both would not hear her whisper, but the joy that bloomed in her precious darling's eyes alerted them anyway. He adored her just as much as she did him, and that wasn't something that could be hidden, so he didn't try.

They bore their love for the world to see and knew that they'd fight to keep it alive if anyone chose to scorn them. It was just the way that it had always been, and it could not be any other way. Not when the two of them were taking up the mantle of Erlang Shen Yang Jian, the Arbiter of Justice and wanted to do him proud. Somehow, he knew they would. He always knew. Maybe it was the years of wisdom alerting him to the smallest details, or maybe it was the trust that they had so generously put in him.

Either way, Lian's daydreaming was interrupted by a cough from the official standing to her left, telling them to hurry it along so that they'd stay on schedule. She gave him a nod of acknowledgement, and the two Deities turned to the altar, left and right hand clapsed together as tightly as they could without anyone getting hurt. It would be alright. They'd be fine.

The spell that the court officials were chanting wrapped around both man and woman, and she vaguely registered a cool sensation covering her body and binding her to Nezha by the wrist. When she opened her eyes again, not having realised she'd even closed them until that moment, she looked down to see a translucent pink ribbon binding their hands together, and something in her knew that it would never be severed... or more like it couldn't be.

If she hadn't been sure of her love for him, she certainly was now.

She did not feel the need to pull away from him as a gold circlet was placed over her bouncy curls and a matching one on top of his ebony hair, as she knew that they were stronger when they were together. Her hand did not leave his, even as the roars of the crowd... her friends... and her family reached her ears. He did not let go, even as they walked back down the great hall together, an unfamiliar buzz running through their veins.

They only separated for the briefest of moments, before they were touching again, several soft kisses and nuzzles being transferred from her olive skin to his paler beige cheeks. This was how they were meant to be... Crown Prince and his Princess, side by side for as long as either of them could imagine, and now they had finally fulfilled their destinies and become whole again, after so many years apart.

His warm touch was all she needed.

Lian Lanhua is now open for asks!

[funnel-webbed-au]

April Showers Bring May Flowers

Tag List: @skellebonez

A/N: I saw Skelle on my dash a few days ago and went "Let's give him a treat." ft. Yang family fluff/hurt/comfort.

It was raining, of course. It often did in the presence of a storm Deity. His moods could mess with the weather sometimes, which for Nezha, was a mixed bag. As the raindrops rolled down his skin and permeated his armor, he remembered why it was raining, why he got this chance.

Erlang Shen was still in his bed, missing his mates, missing the few friends he had... missing his son. Nezha sighed as he let his hair down. He'd need a bath later, regardless of if he used his powers to dry himself or not. The lotus Deity let himself into the Yang Palace, and just as he entered, he used his Celestial Flames to dry himself off in an instant.

He could sense it now.

His father's grief, his father's longing.

Nezha steeled his nerves and walked down the halls, making a direct beeline for the kitchen. He beat Kui Mulang to the tea kettle, and it wasn't long before he had a mug in hand, one specifically brewed with his father's favorite blend. Tea was one of the things that brought him closer with others, especially those who appreciated it like he did. That demographic included but wasn't limited to the inhabitants of the Yang household.

Erlang's heir turned to Ao Lie with an expectant glare, then relaxed and sighed before he spoke. His voice was bitter, exhausted, yet fond. He wanted to know what was wrong with his father, even if it would only confirm the suspicions he had earlier.

"Oh, er..." Ao Lie paused as sweat rolled down his face. Nezha had the right to know, after all, he was Erlang's adopted child. The Dragon still couldn't help the anxiety, though. It slowed him down.

"His Highness is resting in his suite. He is... how do I put it... very upset. I think he needs you." Ao Lie shrugged and gestured down the halls. He couldn't help but smile, as pained as it was, for he knew that although he, himself couldn't do much for the head of the household, Nezha was a different story.

Erlang Shen's heir nodded and quietly thanked the white dragon, then walked down the hallowed halls towards Erlang's suite. As the door opened, Nezha sucked in a deep breath.

His father was curled up in his bed, soul and heart cracked and bleeding, crushed and defeated. The lotus Deity hated seeing his mentor and parent like this, but it was absolutely inevitable considering how he had not one, but two exes that he'd been very happy with... until Heaven's influence turned him against them. Erlang never forgave himself for that, not fully.

Nezha set the tea tray on his father's nightstand, then adjusted the blankets so he could slot himself in the elder Deity's arms. Yang Jian stirred once the touch of another registered in his half-lucid brain. His eyes widened. His son was here, here when he needed him most, here when he needed the comfort more than ever. The ancient Deity wrapped his arms around the young man he'd taken under his wings, pulling him in close.

They both needed the contact, judging by how the tension in Nezha's body evaporated under Erlang's gentle hold. The way his breaths relaxed and drew out brought more peace to Yang Jian's broken soul. Sure, perhaps he didn't have his mates anymore, but he had his son, he had his daughters, he had his little brother, and soon enough... they wouldn't be the only ones he had at his side.

A smile crossed his face, pained, but hopeful. He wasn't alone, he never would be. He'd built this palace with his own blood and tears, and it wasn't going to waste. Yang Jian pressed a kiss to his son's forehead, a gesture that brought a smile to his resting form.

"Thank you, my boy. You make me so proud, and don't forget that I love you more than these words will ever be able to express."

[funnel-webbed-au]

To Sydney: Your venom is caustic? Does it ever cause some pain in your teeth or wherever you shoot it from?

The arachnid grasps his throat as he attempts to speak his reply, just lucid enough to be able to form the words. What instead escapes his throat is a voice so strained that it doesn't feel natural.

It's forced.

"...stress... always... hurts..." It's all he can manage before he coughs up his own shining, tainted ichor, blighted by the same venom that altered his mind so harshly. His hisses of pain and caustic venom draw the attention of Estelle, who comes to his side before the comm speaker repeats the question at her prompting.

She sighs, her expression becoming solemn as she gathers herself. How to put it... ah. She clears her throat, gathering herself. No. She couldn't afford to break just yet, no matter how much seeing her eldest minion in such pain frightened her. He'd recover; there was nothing she could do for his aching throat, not yet, at least.

"His venom drips from his fangs. It doesn't burn his mouth, but it can erode his vocal chords. This is why he's so messy with his venom. His regeneration can keep up with the damage anywhere else, but this case is the exception, and he needs time to heal." She crosses her arms as she hands Sydney a cup of honeyed tea, which grants some sweet relief from the caustic substance dripping from his fangs.