#zhaomas2021

[moneneki]

Damn now I feel that image quality butchering Tumblr does...

Here's a small late contribution for @zhaomas, prompt Spirits. Some rough sketches of Moon Spirit!Zhao in different outfits: one more inspired in Water Tribe warrior attires (little braids Zhao anyone? ready for NWT winteeer), the second I don't even like that much (he does have feet, it's juts a long tunic or smething like that) and the third is just Zhao in Yue's Magic Spirit Dress.

I might try to color one of them later, if I get my stylus repaired 😢

[zhaomas]

We would like to thank @towiwi for this wonderful close-up of turtleduck!Zhao.

He’s here to remind you all that voting for the Zhaomas prompts closes on Nov 14, so if you haven’t selected your twelve prompts yet, please do!

[snoffyy]

Inquisitive

@zhaomas

Funny story, I sat down and wrote this thing in one sitting thanks to barely lucid ramblings and mashing together different ideas into some sort of chimera equivalent of written work in the late hours of night.

I don’t really know what’s going on anymore, but all there is to know is that there are pirates, cactus juice, and Knowledge Seekers.

Fulfilling the prompts uh............ secrets, pride, spirits, and cactus juice.

Zhao has never claimed to be an expert in botany, but even he knows not to drink from mysterious plants in the middle of the desert. It’s a different story, though, when it’s offered to him by one of the desert tribes.

He came across them by accident, but he’d be a fool to refuse their hospitality. Not in this death-trap, where pride is more a hindrance than a help if one does not know when to put it down. He tells them about the fabled library he has been pursuing for years, and they nod with sombre looks. Unlike everyone else he has told, the tribe does not jeer or scorn his ambition to chase this impossibility.

A spirit, they whisper, barely discernible underneath the crackling tongues of campfire, with wings as dark as midnight’s shadow, eyes of the cosmos, and a face the colour of a shroud.

They offer him a drink of cactus juice before he leaves them. They grimly jest he should imbibe one more time before he is to face death cloaked in shadows. Zhao takes the drink, and it tastes like water, but the potency is anything but.

Colours swirl around him, he sees things that aren’t there, or could be there, or shouldn’t be there. Dragons flying through the air, rainbow fire warping the already sweltering air of the desert. Fire Lord Azulon laughing from the shadows, striking them down with lightning streaking from his gnarled hands.

For glory, the Fire Lord roars, louder than the screeches of pain, for the glory of the Fire Nation!

It’s somewhere within these hallucinations that Zhao finds Fire Nation glory doesn’t mean all that much to him. He’s a lieutenant, posted out in small pockets of Earth Kingdom territory. He doesn’t see all that much action, and what little action there is is in the form of paltry Earth Kingdom divisions and weak-kneed, dirt-streaked commanders.

There’s the bigger picture, of course, but in the end, Zhao can’t see a world of peace, even within the fog of illusions. Where he, the renowned war hero receives the accolades and due rights, and then lives out the rest of his days in an idle blur.

By the time his head has cleared, Zhao thinks, ah, silly little misconceptions from drinking questionable substances.

Yet the inkling of doubt persists in the back of his mind.

.

Wan Shi Tong is no more a scholar than he is a spirit. The two are deeply intertwined, and Zhao knows that while those talons of his can tear a grown man to pieces with ease, Wan Shi Tong is far more interested in using them to flip pages.

Time seems to work differently in the library. Zhao spends what feels like days sitting in the Air Nomad section, poring over scrolls from a culture long dead (not dead – they still live within these walls) and traces drawings of their temples, their architecture, their people.

Pacifists. Vegetarians. Spiritual enlightenment. Free will.

Free.

And then they were captured by ash and smoke. Wings plucked out one feather at a time, not even a pin feather to spare.

“The Air Nomads had armies,” Zhao attempts to justify to the Knowledge Seeker pup curled up at his side. It’s a tiny thing that refuses to leave him alone, and he’s found that running his fingers through its fur is surprisingly pleasant while he’s reading.

“They did not,” Wan Shi Tong replies as he flits above him. It’s a remark carelessly thrown Zhao’s way as the owl spirit swoops to a different section of the library. “Your people massacred them, and then fed lies to the next generations.”

.

Zhao visits the Earth Kingdom section next, though he is still reeling from all that he’s discovered. It’s here that he reads about crystal catacombs and their ability to calm the mind. He reads about bloody history and proud peoples, the cultural heritage of Ba Sing Se, the social castes and how they came to be. There are modern reports of the Fire Nation’s impact on Earth Kingdom life. Education reports, health and sickness, infrastructure and agriculture.

Everything goes towards the Fire Nation.

“The Fire Nation is propagating better ways of life,” Zhao says to Pup. Yes, Pup. Unoriginal, but it was easier than calling it Knowledge Seeker all the time. Pup reaches up, licks his nose, and, for an animal spirit, gives him a remarkably sceptical look.

“Not without a price,” Wan Shi Tong hoots from somewhere in the library, his voice echoing throughout every chamber. “Not without blood.”

.

In the Water Tribe archives, Zhao finds something that would change the world.

“Great Spirits in mortal forms,” he informs Pup, though his voice comes out more lacklustre than he’d like. “Imagine if an enemy got their hands on this information.”

Belatedly, he realises, oh, that would be me.

Pup licks his nose again. Zhao idly scratches their head, paying close attention that spot behind their ear and – oh, there it is. The Knowledge Seeker flops over, tongue lolling out, eyes lidded in bliss.

He finds more than one terrible secret in the archives. Bloodbending, he reads with morbid fascination, can be used to heal and harm in equal tandem. Originating from the Swamp Tribes, it is a little-known technique, with masters few and far between.

“Makes sense,” Zhao says to Pup. “They’re renowned for plantbending. I suppose it’s a matter of going from plants to humans.”

He ought to be horrified. Take it as justification for wiping out all waterbenders. But listen, look, Zhao isn’t some war-mongering brute who wants to wreck and ravage the world. He works for a cause, and the cause is to finally bring this world to peace even if it required subjugation of lesser peoples.

But… are they lesser?

Imagine how much more the world would know if the best from each culture was brought out and offered. It seems a waste to quash such things like using bloodbending to treat clots and haemorrhages.

Zhao looks at the Spirit Scroll again, and the doubt returns ever stronger.

.

Wan Shi Tong hasn’t said anything to him for a long time. But Zhao carries Pup into the Fire Nation section, trying to bat away a wagging tail.

It’s here that he finds secrets that could get him killed. Scandals in the royal family, maps detailing all the hidden passageways of the palace both above and below ground, diary entries and letter exchanges of Fire Lords long past.

And…

A mandate for educational reforms. State-approved programmes, orders to learn only what the governing body wants one to learn. Restrictions, limitations, erasures and censures.

Let it be known that Zhao is loyal to himself and only himself when he can help it. He’d known from a young age that he had a craving for knowledge, and the one thing Zhao dislikes as much as failure is being lied to.

The doubt bursts forth like a deluge breaking free from a dam.

“You do not require any more of my input, I take it.”

Zhao turns around, meeting the fathomless stare of Wan Shi Tong.

“No,” Zhao says. He’s heard enough. He’s had enough.

“I have always wondered about the merits of a travelling library,” Wan Shi Tong muses. “To chase after knowledge rather than wait for knowledge to come to me.”

“Why don’t you?”

“The library is my physical tether to this world,” Wan Shi Tong gestures with a night-black wing. “I am bound to it. Much as how Tui and La are bound to their mortal forms.”

Zhao absentmindedly runs his fingers through Pup’s fur. “Travelling library, huh?”

“Of sorts. Knowledge is not stagnate, after all. Knowledge is power. A power that grows by the day yet is understood by precious few.”

Zhao is quiet for a long, long time.

.

He makes a decision. An impulsive one. But it’s a decision and it’s all his own.

Lieutenant Zhao perishes in the Si Wong Desert.

Captain Zhao rises.

A different sort of captain than the one he’d always thought he’d become.

Pirate, Zhao mouths the word, tasting it along his tongue. It tastes of brine and freedom, and it’s so, so surreal.

He’s not a conventional pirate by any means. He has no iguana parrot, but he does have a Knowledge Seeker. His hair is kept short, his ship polished and meticulously maintained. He remains clean shaven, his clothes are simple and black, and he refuses to wear jewellery.

Zhao is not an unkempt, filthy pirate. He has standards, damnit.

His crew is carefully selected, and he chooses them based on merit rather than bloodline.

He trades in knowledge. But he’s always been more a taker than a giver, so he’s more than happy to give up scraps of knowledge… for a price.

Supply routes, military plans, maps, strategic locations, any type of intel is up for offer. It’s his most coveted commodity, and he gives it to anyone willing to buy. Payment is in the form of equivalent exchange, whether it be monetary or some other form of knowledge.

Zhao is still selective about what he takes. He’s no saviour, no hero, no do-gooder. He doesn’t go out of his way for people, and if someone tries to seek him out, he makes no promises to help them.

And he likes it that way.

.

It’s winter. Cold gales sweep across the ocean, and Pup has taken to gluing themselves to Zhao’s side in a bid to stay warm. Zhao didn’t think spirits needed thermoregulation, but he supposes Pup isn’t a conventional spirit either.

General Iroh pays him to carry a message towards the Northern Water Tribe. The banished prince is sulking outside, grumbling about pirates swarming all over his ship. But Zhao doesn’t pay any mind to it. He’s here for a job. No more, no less.

“The Northern Water Tribe is a long way away,” Zhao mentions, weighing the feather-light missive in his hand. “This better be worth the journey.”

“You will be paid handsomely,” General Iroh reassures. “I have also heard you are quite partial to libraries?”

Zhao gestures at his ship in answer. It’s practically a floating library, one that Wan Shi Tong himself helped him design.

“Ah, yes, of course,” General Iroh continues smiling away genially. “Well, I’ve put in a good word for you to peruse the libraries within the Northern Water Tribe.”

“That’s not a guarantee.”

“Trust me, you won’t be refused,” General Iroh says, a devious spark in his eyes. On Zhao’s shoulder, Pup perks up. They’re still a tiny thing, and they’ve developed a penchant for slinging themselves over Zhao’s shoulders like a shawl.

“If you say so.”

Zhao bids goodbye to Prince Zuko out of some lingering obligation of courtesy towards the royal family. He’s met with a derisively raised brow and an ill-tempered scowl.

Brat.

“Have you heard anything about the Avatar’s whereabouts?”

Zhao pauses, turns on his heel, and tilts his head questioningly at the prince.

“No more than you have, I’d think.”

Prince Zuko grimaces. “I lost his trail a week ago. Haven’t you heard of anything since?”

Zhao shrugs. It’s a terribly casual habit to display in front of a member of royalty, but hey, he’s not exactly under their servitude anymore. “No. But I’d head north if I were you.”

Prince Zuko squints in suspicion. “On what basis?”

“Just a feeling,” Zhao smirks, rubbing a thumb against the parchment in his hands.

He doesn’t stick around long after that. In the safety of his cabin, Zhao eases the letter open, gives it a quick read, and nearly snorts when he realises it’s mostly about Pai Sho. As promised, there’s a request to allow Zhao passage into the libraries, but other than that, there’s nothing too eye-catching.

He makes a copy of the letter anyway. One never knows, and Zhao distinctly remembers Iroh’s days as a fearsome, cunning general.

.

The Northern Water Tribe sees him as a firebender first, a pirate second, and a librarian third.

Although, ‘librarian’ is a loose term in all honesty.

He doesn’t quite care. The letter backs him up, and he’s begrudgingly treated as an honoured guest.

The princess escorts him to the royal library, and she is incessant about hearing his travels around the world. Zhao humours her. He’s in a good mood, especially after he’d ‘accidentally’ tripped that Hahn fellow into one of the canals.

Hahn’s fault, really, for refusing to remember ‘Choi’ is an appalling misnomer.

“The Avatar is really back?!” Princess Yue cries out in delight, awe sparking in her eyes.

“Oh yes,” Zhao chuckles. “Might be heading this way at this moment, as a matter of fact.”

From behind, Chief Arnook’s booming voice interjects, “What of the Fire Nation?”

“Well,” Zhao clicks his fingers, letting a flame spring to life. Pup yips at the sight, prancing around Zhao’s legs excitedly. He’s always liked displays of Zhao’s bending, seemed to think of it as a source of entertainment. “Where the Avatar goes, the Fire Nation follows.”

“What do you know?” Chief Arnook demands.

He knows a lot. Knowledge is power, after all. And Zhao happens to like both.

Zhao smiles. It’s a sharp thing, like the silver slash of a cutlass. Pup recognises the expression and stands at attention, ears perked, tail wagging.

“How about a trade?”

[orangepanic]

I looked at the clock and realized I'd completely forgotten about @zhaomas until, um, right now. Sooooo anyway have some Zhao on cactus juice at Wan Shi Tong's library. He... does not have a good trip. Merry Zhaomas to all!

"What is this shit?" Zhao grumbled. Whatever was in the cup he'd been handed looked like watery milk and smelled like the inside of a boiled vegetable.

"You came seeking knowledge." Wan Shi Tong nodded his enormous fluffy head towards the cup. "This includes knowledge of oneself. Drink."

Zhao wasn't particularly looking for knowledge of himself. He was looking for something very specific. But the spirit guardian was known to be temperamental, and the very last thing he wanted was to be thrown ass over teakettle out into the middle of the Si Wong desert. He'd worked for years to find this place. What harm was a sip or two of foul-smelling bird water?

The taste, however, wasn't bad. It was refreshing, almost fruity. Zhao realized with a start that he hadn't had anything to drink for hours. He'd been too busy trying to find a way into the library. Now that he was finally here, he was very thirsty indeed. Zhao drained the cup in four swallows and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

"Thank you," he said. It wouldn't hurt to be polite. He'd learned that from Ozai the hard way. "Now, about the knowledge I seek. I'm looking for a blackity black black black..." Zhao trailed off, confused. Why couldn't he remember the words?

"Indeed," said the giant bird spirit. It cocked its head. "A what now?"

Zhao wiggled his hands in a shape he thought might resemble a hole. "Black," he said again. His mouth felt like mush. "With the disc. Hot! That goes whooshhh!" He made a slashing motion to indicate speed.

Wan Shi Tong only smiled. Could a bird smile? Then its face seemed to stretch. The short beak dripped down its front until it resembled a black goatee. The dark feathers at the sides of ran like putty to form long dark hair. Its once beady black eyes were ringed with gold.

"Zhao!" Bird Ozai commanded. "Kneel before me!"

Zhao dropped to his knees. "My lord."

"Lower," said the bird that was also the Firelord. Suddenly the tile beneath Zhao's feet began to melt. He tried to scramble to his feet to avoid the quicksand, or quicktile, or whatever the fuck was happening but the only result was that his hands got stuck as well. Wet, sticky globs of not-tile clung to his skin. It felt like he'd fallen into a vat of tar.

"Stop!" Zhao shouted. "Please, my lord!"

"You dare issue me a command, you common scum?" Ozai screeched. "I should have left you in that hovel! I should have locked you outside in the snow! I should have spitted you upon my pike and had done with it, you useless excuse for a son!" The Ozai-thing's face began to bubble and run as its features shifted again. A wide, flat nose, heavy brows, eyes like a dying flame. Zhao flinched. He hadn't seen that face in ten years.

The father monster reared back and flapped its twenty foot wings in a torrent of fire. It twisted its way into a flaming tornado that raced across the bubbling tile towards where Zhao was now trapped up to his elbows and hips.

"No!" he shrieked. "NO! NO!"

"YOU HAVE FAILED ME AGAIN!" screamed his father in a voice that also sounded like Ozai laughing. But Zhao couldn't run. He couldn't bend. He couldn't do anything but kneel like a fly in a honey trap and meet his doom. He bent his head and braced himself for the flames that had always been his destiny.

They never came.

Zhao woke up sprawled on the tile floor of Wan Shi Tong's library. His head ached like a bastard. Of the bird spirit itself, there was no sign.

[dynadratina]

@zhaomas

IT’S HERE!!! My Zhaomas submission is done at last ;; And a little tie-in to The Real Subject ;)

Prompts: Spirits + Shipwrecked in Winter Rating: G Warnings: None Word Count: 1,760 Summary: Zhao is a newly-minted commander of the Fire Nation Navy. A bit of fog in unfamiliar waters doesn't faze him, despite what the stories tell of it.

[middleofnowhere92]

Chapter 2 for the teenager prompt for @zhaomas 

Chapters: 2/9 Rating: Mature Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Ty Lee/Zhao (Avatar) Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - High School, High School, Time Skips, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Modern Era, 2010s, Aged-Up Character(s) Summary: Ty Lee has a crush on her PE teacher.

[moneneki]

I got it on timeeeee (barely). Last submission for the @avatar-sunken-ships-week, day 7: Asian/Folklore. And kind of colaterally, a submission for @zhaomas :D

Daughters of the Ocean

Rating: T

Ship: Yue/Zhao

Summary: There are many myths, fables and tales about the ocean, stories that are told in the villages closest to it both to enjoy and to learn from them. One of them has been rippling through the many villages of the coast; that of Zhao the Fisherman, the only one who dared to swim under the ice to achieve what was only known through legends... and he returned with a princess.

[zhaomas]

And that’s a wrap, everyone! Thank you to everyone who participated in Zhaomas, whether it was by submitting prompts, voting, contributing, or just following along! We were delighted to see such a positive response to the event and are honored to have had the opportunity to sail with you on this voyage.

We hope that this year’s Zhaomas spread some wintry holiday joy, and above all, some love for our dear Admiral Zhao!

The Admiral and his crew wish everyone a Happy Lunar New Year and a great rest of the year to come!

[zhaomas]

Prompt Announcement

Ahoy, all!  It’s been a busy two weeks for you, what with submitting prompts and then voting on them, but we’re happy to let you know that all your work has been fruitful and our 12 Prompts of Zhaomas have made themselves known. 

Secrets  Pride  Obsession  Teenager  Shipwrecked in Winter Spirits  Alone  Huddle for Warmth  Writing Home  There was Only One Bed  Lover’s Festival  Cactus Juice 

A full breakdown of the prompt results below: 

As a reminder, there is no expectation of participants following a certain order with these prompts come December. There is no specific date correlated with any of the prompts, and should you wish to contribute only for a few prompts, or submit multiple pieces for the same prompt, we consider that just as acceptable as rising to the challenge of twelve unique submissions based on each prompt. The point is to have fun, and show our dearest Admiral some love, of course.

As always, if you have any questions, please run up the flags in our Ask box.  

[zhaomas]

Welcome aboard!

Who we are: 

No ship sails without a crew, and that’s precisely who we are -- loyal members of the Fire Nation Navy. Captain Isla and First-Mate mod reporting for duty! 

What this is: 

Zhaomas 2021 is a fandom event dedicated to everyone’s favorite fiery Admiral, featuring prompts submitted and voted upon by participants. Our goal is to bring fans together in collective appreciation of this character, build community, and put some wind in the sails of any artists and writers who contribute to the event. An AO3 collection will be made available for written works, though we welcome submissions of all forms.

How to enlist:

If you’re ready to join the crew, there are a few things to keep in mind!

The easiest way to keep track of things will be to follow this account, but you do not need to be on Tumblr to participate. You may also join the No Self Control discord server, or submit directly to us and we can post content for you.  

If you are posting on Tumblr, please tag us @zhaomas​ so we can reblog your work.

Tag everything with #zhaomas2021 so folks can filter as necessary.    

What's Next?

We’ll get a poll going so that participants may submit up to 3 prompts. After that will be prompt-voting, during which the event’s 12 prompts will be chosen.   

Don’t feel like you have to limit yourself to season-specific prompts (like snowman or skating). Be as creative as you want.    

Rules: 

The Admiral’s favourite part. 

Regardless of the prompt, all submissions should have two focal points: Zhao must be a main character, and the piece should have something to do with the winter season.

Submissions should be unique to the event (either a new/previously unpublished story or the new chapter of an existing fic). 

NSFW and heavy triggers should be properly tagged and hidden beneath a "read more" cut on Tumblr.  

Despite the event name, there is no expectation that you write about Christmas, specifically. Any winter holiday can be the focus, including made-up holidays. Of course you don't have to write about a festivity, either; any themes or moods relating to winter in general are good to go. 

AUs are welcome in all flavors (modern, etc.) as long as Zhao is still a focal character! 

There will be 12 prompts for the entire month. You do not have to do them in order and you can do as many as you want, including doing the same one multiple times! Combining prompts is also allowed. 

Submitted works can be fanart, fanfic, or fan-edits/gifs. If there’s something else you want to submit, get in touch with us! 

Finally, have fun!  And if you see something that you think isn’t seaworthy, let us mods know so that we can check it out. Do not go after fellow participants and creators.     

Tentative schedule is as follows:

Prompt Submission: November 4-7

Prompt Voting: November 11-14  

Prompt Release: Mid-November

Event Dates: December 1st -- December 31st

Late submissions accepted until: January 31st

[snoffyy]

Me rising from the depths of hell to drop some tooth-rotting dad!Zhao:

Been a very busy month and about to get busier yet but I was adamant to get something done for @zhaomas

A ficlet for the prompt ‘There was only One Bed’ (except the bed is Zhao) set in the beloved captive!Zhao AU:

It starts with one child.

Something innocuous, starting like a rosebud in spring. Nothing you’d concern yourself with until you reach out and attempt to pick the flower, only to recoil when you strike thorn instead.

It’s exactly like that, except Zhao supposes he shouldn’t be comparing children to rose thorns.

Maybe a parasite would be more apt. It certainly feels like it when he is sitting on the cold, cold ground, literally freezing his ass off as one of the younger children – a tiny tot of two years – waddles over and promptly settles herself in his lap for a kip.

He doesn’t dare complain, not when his position in the Northern Water Tribe is so fragile already. One wrong move, and he’d be exiled into the tundra. So he sits there, feeling his heartbeat, too, slow, daring not to move lest he wakes up the child and the ensuing caterwauling leads to misunderstanding.

That was how it started.

A mere week later, there are three children staring up at him expectantly when the time for their afternoon nap rolls around. Somehow, word has spread throughout the circle of children that Zhao radiates warmth like a bonfire. Ergo, making him the perfect source of heat to huddle and leech off come naptime.

Zhao would say ‘no’, if it weren’t for those guileless eyes, pouting mouths, and tiny hands tugging at his sleeve, ordering him to settle down so they can swarm all over him. Menaces, the lot of them.

(He has a weakness for children, and damn him for having it.)

Three children morph into four. Four to five. Five to ten.

He blinks, astonished, as the number multiplies and rapidly grow, until all the children are arguing and pinching each other as they fight over who gets to curl up on the firebender.

(He has not felt true touch in a while, and it pangs him so when they reach out for him with eager hands.)

There is only one firebender in the Northern Water Tribe, but there is an entire horde of children. Winter has descended. It is bitterly cold, and he is so comfortingly warm.

In the end, they settle on a schedule, the children taking turns to cuddle up to him, burying their hands in his clothes, pressing against bare skin if they are able.

(He would hold all of them if he could. They comfort him as much as he comforts them. Perhaps even more so.)

He complains. Loudly and frequently. When the mothers ask if it truly bothers him or if he would like them to help put a stop to all this, he sighs and grumbles, and says he’d rather put up with a teeming mass of children trying to suffocate him under a pile of limbs than a rampaging army of them throwing a cumulatively colossal temper tantrum.

None of them buy his act. Not even the children.

But they have the tact not to say anything.

And they continue mentioning nothing when they catch him humming Fire Nation lullabies, stoking his inner fire so that his warmth envelops the entire roomful of napping children.

[zhaomas]

And just like that, we’re ready for you to vote on some prompts! Hooray!

[zhaomas]

Are you ready to fire off some incredible fanfiction or fanart? Because it’s almost that time!

Zhaomas begins tomorrow, and we’re very excited to see your submissions!

[zhaomas]

The main run of the event might be drawing to a close, but fear not! Submissions will still be accepted until January 31st! There’s still plenty of time to show our admiral some love!

A big thanks to everyone who’s submitted so far, and of course to everyone who’s been following along!

[moneneki]

Here's another small submission for @zhaomas: Lover's Festival, with a sprinkle of corniness. I think it's self-contained, but chapter 2 features Zhao too ^_^

Poppy red, chapter 3: Winter and mountains

(Rated E, it's from kinktober, so nsfw)

[zhaomas]

Admiral Zhao would like to wish everyone a Happy New Year from the bottom of his heart! Thank you to everyone who’s been following along with our event and to all fans of the Fire Nation! Wishing you all many warm moments throughout these winter months and beyond.

Here’s to a fantastic 2022!