#zhaang

[sacachorch0vo]

Lo que entendí de Atla

[ohmygodtheywereparabatai]

Aang would see a LoK!Zhao struggling with how remnants of the fog twist up his mind and let him perceive others’ shortcomings and failures ,, and say somethin Leo Tolstoy-like such as “If you feel pain, you’re alive… If you feel other people’s pain, you’re human, Zhao. Nothing more to it.”

And a little epiphany would go off in his peabrain. No, not I found my husband (well that too) but damn. the fog is making me a hufflepuff? … guess there’s worse things to be.

worse people to share them with.

(and then they watch the sunset idk they’re old-)

[ohmygodtheywereparabatai]

CONTINUED FROM!!

Nose is back to the Zhaang grindstone! @theboyfrommakapu let me borrow their tough little nut Mizuki, and as 2021 can and should be the year of Dad!Zhao (and Flame was instrumental in the effort ✨)... 

—

Aang bent the cord around his finger, waiting, in much moroseness, for the line to answer.

“Chief Beifong speaking.” A soft chuckle peppered the other end. “Did you know I’ve started tapping into the wires? Copper, silver - they run all over the place, tingle a little when someone flips a switch. I can almost tell you’re nervous, Twinkle Toes. Quit fiddling with the cord.”

How did she...?

Nevermind. Toph’s abnormally dense interconnection with the world would prove useful another time.

“I...” Aang cut to brass tacks. “I lost him.”

“What?” -a creaking desk, then a stern officer folding over the cheeky old- “When? His bending’s diddly-squat in the surface world. Isn’t that what you told me?”

“I know, I know. It was-”

“Don’t expect my men to find your prized fossil and return it to the Zei Museum. You’re the one who begged me to keep this under wraps.”

He squeezed in a smile, hoping to feign confidence. “I wouldn’t pain you with the paperwork, Toph. Besides, it’s out of our hands. Bumi’s handling it. Well, he worded it differently, but... he promised the search would be short. In the meantime, just - keep an eye out, will you?”

“Aang.” The voice turned from scratchy to uncomfortably firm, clear as if she were right behind him. “You said he wasn’t dangerous. Now you’ve got top-notch eel hounds on his scent.”

You had better expect a visit, were her last regards. The line snapped shut, leaving him with a limp cord and heavier phone than when he’d dailed.

Aang shifted, lips tightly pursed before the air was sucked out of him in a groan. “Monkey feathers...”

—

Trees.

For a handful of miles offshore where he’d dragged his weight off a humble boat, lower half caked, gritty, and buried to the soles in sand - trees.

It was a relief.

The city was a noose. Like he could sense its tailspin out of trajectory as the safe haven of the world risen from the four nations… now a reeking, hot swamp.

Not of smell - of lost souls. The indebted, distressed, heartbroken, restless. Even a switch sent ripples. He heard enough from his own mind.

Climbing over a rock as the wind rustled and sun warmed his hands (oh, how the sun felt on his skin) Zhao found his urgency suddenly depleted. He was well inland, well surrounded to muffle the thick of civilization.

The sun’s touch grew cooler by the time he sorted out the dissonance; someone had been weeping - the lights were too bright - traffic had blared and their shrieking carried over. It was a noise he expected to see printed in the… called the… newspaper, if Zhao could be so bothered.

He finally stirred when a faint ringing sharpened to a painful, yet balanced point - smoothed to exude an artful control. In the whirlwind settled one thought:

Fire.

He fumbled out of the way (apparently so inert that a mistaken frog squirrel scampered off his chest) just as an arrow planted in his sleeve.

Zhao yanked it out on the third tug. Before his senses were aligned he was sprinting for cover, because if nothing kicked in, training did - the fletching provided the revered accuracy and spin of the fire swan… to the extent of his years, found nowhere else.

If only training brokered with his physical state and found some hidden reservoir of adrenaline. Compared to feet gracing the treetops and sailing within range in seconds, he was a leaf trying to escape a stone. His shoes dunked in creek water, turned nonsense corners to bewilder the immovable upon him. Arrows plunged in Zhao’s trail - the first one hadn’t pierced him.

It could have, easily.

So, at least one person in the world preferred him alive-

The denounced admiral lost his head start; his ears pricked at the ripping of a seam before his back lodged to a tree. “No—!” He was their pin cushion before he could recognize the grate of bark.

A group of less than dozen descended from the canopy, their focus as deathly still as Zhao was forced to hold - nocked like the bow, even now. Then the leader swung down in front of him, ten steps short of her squad.

Lithe. Tightly bound hair. Unsettlingly familiar eyes.

“Pathetic. No wonder you were the last candidate for the Natural Leadership Award.” The what? “It went to Admiral Tung - he couldn’t start a fire without his hands.”

He must have stared in a way that made their distance transparent. Her frown aged her, too much.

“What’s the blue smear on your forehead?”

No answer. The archer struck him over the temple, hard; the resulting darkness wasn’t as merciful as to be dreamless.

—

… Two hours before the commander made landfall, he served (against his will) as a conduit for the last ten decades, lobes picked clean.

The encampment was secluded, scattered in the trees with stuffed straw rooted in rows. Arrows that had pierced already split targets, embers in the dark where game was strung over pits. Somewhere over the treetops was the crash of indolent waves.

Zhao would have made his peace with the circumstances if it weren’t for the rope affixing him to a tent’s post and the incessant girl.

An ambush squad; the leader seemed to be convinced Zhao was so ancient that he hailed from Szeto’s time. Or she was mocking him. At this point, he had a sinking feeling he wasn’t as well-preserved as the Avatar led him to believe. The Spirit World reject’s head pounded. How was he tracked this far?

“Were you eligible for the land grants after Minister Szeto’s relief fund was exceeded by thousands of ban? Did you move to the islands? Do you have family there still?”

“I’ve never-”

Her brows settled knowingly. “Ah, so you were one of the needy who joined the warring clans to survive. Did Szeto show you mercy? Did he use Firelord Yosor’s stamp and feed your hungry for months?”

“No! I was-”

“You’ve never stood in his presence?”

“I haven’t, I don’t plan to, and unless you have some sort of incentive I’ll resist throwing myself at the Avatar’s feet and begging him to contact his however-many-past-lives so you’ll shut your mouth.”

“Ai,” her lip twitched, “Grandfather Zuko did that already. Szeto was busy tallying entries in the spirit world on his famous abacus. Did you know? It was carved from-”

“I did not!” He snapped, and until his thoughts caught up with him, Zhao was just short of fuming. He heard it then - and balked.

“G… Grandfather?” His eyes flickered, the weight of the crown steeping the room like a tea prepared with lead. The archer blinked innocently, folded forward on her stoop. “Who are you?” Zhao demanded.

“I think you know.” She stood up, stretching idly. He was no threat - not to the Yuyan, not to a princess. “You talk in your sleep. Almost confessed to putting thorns in Uncle Aang’s shoes. Other than that, dragons, Firelords… my father. How do you know so much?” The archer muttered to the side, “and so little…”

Maybe he should run from the island more often. Next time he could shake hands with the president. “I didn’t- wasn’t aware… you were…”

But he did see things, didn’t he? For the same reason he’d fled the city, and the Avatar’s tour of the park backfired before he could point out his favorite birds in the trees.

Zhao, at least, could figure where he’d seen those eyes.

The same boy who reached out when he could have let him fall - the same old man who’d tried to guide him from a spiraling path. Wise in ways the all-powerful Firelord was not. Strangely, his lips moved on their own.

“He does care.” Zhao’s arms were chafed and mosquitos had taken to vintage blood like a honeypot - what did he care, for one? “You don’t have to believe me. I’m not the Knowledge Spirit - now that one was a pain in the ass - but you heard it from me, and I know what I know. He… is fond. Of you.”

Finally… a moment of quiet. Though it pressed like a blunt tip to his pulse.

Her resemblance wasn’t striking, not in the sense of royalty Zhao had known. The girl’s hair was lighter, her features sharp to a gentler fault - and no one capable of the royals’ level of skill would choose a bow over raw fists.

“Who?” The princess’s voice turned severe.

The bygone soldier blinked. “I think you know.”

She looked affronted, or twice as curious - stormed from the tent with the blazing corona of esteem and shaken pride dimming like her steps. The Yuyan were rumored to be silent as the spirits… Suppose some things made you mortal, made inescapably of flesh and burden.

Ages had passed since Zhao was in such a presence. He’d forgotten the family of condensed sunlight - forgotten his mission and how low he bowed at their feet.

He almost unconsciously straightened when she re-entered later with ease, a mask pinned tightly over the face that beamed in recitation of Szeto’s legacy. What’s wrong? Zhao wanted to mouth (before recoiling at his own instinct).

A tall, middle-aged man bolstered by boots and a shining coat ducked in suit. Instead of lowering a distasteful greeting on a lowly captive, he cracked a wide smile. “Got your steps in?”

“I haven’t seen Dad in such knots to find someone since Kya lost her lop-eared bunny. Hell-raisers,” he chuckled, “what can you do but keep an eye on them?”

The princess’s eyes narrowed, twin points tensed on a bowstring by themselves. Zhao swallowed.

“Uh… your daughter - was good company.”

Commander, Firelord - he acted like neither! - slid his hands in his pockets as men brushed past, hauling Zhao off his legs as blood rushed to receive him. A sideways wink was his answer, and while it baffled the Yuyan’s catch of the day, it bounced right off his child. How couldn’t she know she was adored? The commander gave off delight in overwhelming, sunny waves.

The Avatar’s son?

… Made sense.

Zhao’s hand slipped from under the soldiers’ hold, motioning with his fingers; a short goodbye, if anything. The young archer didn’t so much as glance over.

To think he’d set out to find quiet… He wanted to seek out the loudest voice he’d met since.

[ohmygodtheywereparabatai]

kissing a war goodbye

[ohmygodtheywereparabatai]

Another Zhaang crumb for consideration ✨

Bumi tells ZANY stories but there’s one time when he mentions a passing thought in Zhao’s presence like

Aang used to tell the kids about him and how he nearly brought down the balance of the world with a FISH (“Yes siree, that was one of my favorites growing up! UH, not the end of the world part… no one believed me when I said I rescued my first squad with the help of a badger frog!”)

And Zhao just, straightens a little and his eyes go a bit wide

“He told stories… about me?”

“A story, Chops. As far as I recall- oh, oh, wait! There was the one where you set your own riverboats on fire, HA…” (Zhao is staring, he is very much staring and his mouth is open)

“-or that time you tried smashing through the doors at Roku’s temple! Or when you found an underground library that told you where to get your fish?” (His throat is catching, his lips waver into a smile and he wants to weep… this is normal, right?)

“… Though I think Dad found out that one from Iroh. Either way, he was never short on a gripping tale. You’re all kinds of kooky, aren’t you?”

Zhao repeats the same thing, at least not wordlessly before fresh tears bubble in his eyes: in a world where no one remembers my name…

“He told my story.”

“… Oh, man… I didn’t bring up old wounds, did I?” Bumi scratches his head. Zhao gets up.

“On the contrary. I could kiss your father full on the mouth!” give it a couple months and that’s exactly what Zhao finds himself doing

—and he DASHES out of the room with a teary grin that he just. can’t. seem to wipe off.

He wants to talk to the Avatar.

[ohmygodtheywereparabatai]

listen. listen. today on our daily Zhaang gospel;

~ ocean/moon parallels ✨ ~

while not nearly as potent as Yue’s connection (*waves to Zhayu schooner*) Aang does the very Mood thing of noping out of responsibility and trapping himself in ice for a hundred years ~ where the ocean almost….. guards him? that’s how i see it ¿

it’s a scary place in the deep deep blue :) i like to imagine Aang with a friendly ocean spirit re: Moana thwacking away shark squids and piranha dolphins — when they try gnawing away at the ice for the hooman food and BIG furry food.. ofc, he returns the favor at the siege.

YES! OCEAN 🤝 AANG covered.

so what about Zhao 🤝 moon?

(this is him setting my wee zhaang riverboat on fire - YES HE HATES THAT REFERENCE)

AH right. it’s Zhao 🔪 moon

But what a cool little thing to daydream about for the next six hours!

[ohmygodtheywereparabatai]

Zhao really said “he’s mine now” about Aang like I wouldn’t notice

[ohmygodtheywereparabatai]

A [gay ass] Thought

Ever have three simultaneous epiphanies about the new rarepair you’ve latched onto? Fun, right?!!

(Please disregard if Zhao/Aang “Zhaang” isn’t in your circles of interest, this isn’t really intended for an audience… ya Ray trying to blow off steam by writing.. rough day 😮‍💨)

ephifancy 1. The moment Korra’s airbending kicks in

Why this one? Well, Tenzin establishes her weak point as a lack of spiritual understanding ~ making airbending her weakest element. So it’s curious that it should come sweeping in as a blow of brute force all the same, knocking Amon off his feet and freeing Mako from his grip.

The slow-mo toss of her arm is something, but the way she shouts “No!” as if she’s about to lose someone very important to her…? Maybe a similar moment was what defined Aang’s airbending in a form stripped of all grace and subtlety ~

Probably not out of worry for anyone in the Gaang, since they’re more than capable of fending off the enemy… but a hapless, blundering idiot dragged out of the Fog of Lost Souls? Aang’s job is to worry. That shared instant of don’t take him from me could be what finally bridges Korra’s airbending with that of the last airbender. (yes, him. played the pronoun card 😏)

epfefenee 2. Aang’s kids… are kinda messed up

RIP. Sacrificing (let’s say.. slightly altering) the tale of a hardworking father trying his best to balance the world along with his family for Aangst ✨

First you have Tenzin, whose memory of spending quality time with his siblings is sorely inaccurate, specifically called “foggy” (hint hint wink wink winkity hint hinty wiNK WINK—) by Kya.

Now, Tenzin may be getting on in years, but before that instance he’s never shown less than a timely, well-oiled aptitude… which can only mean this stemmed from someplace offscreen, and the answer is even rounded to his early childhood. In Aang’s (deserved, yet harmful, as the show tells us) devotion to teaching his only inclined son the ways of a lost culture… could he have thought ‘oh, two birds with one stone’ and taken Tenzin with him on premature journeys into the less idyllic spirit world? Prisons and vicious cycles of punishment, AKA Zhao’s casa - leaving him the high-strung, overbearing, questionably retentive man seen in Book One. Foggy memory indeed… and poor guy :( Aang bby the bad decision-making is rubbing off on you

*Tenzin also does exceptionally well in the Fog of Lost Souls compared to the others. A sign of some classic Mithridatism behind the scenes?

- Then you have Bumi, the man of Wild Stories with questionable credibility… but how unlikely are these stories, really, seeing the sort of happenings and creatures that inhabit the spirit world?

Could Aang have lugged two children along while he was seeing Zhao, giving Bumi that teensy spiritual push to receiving airbending later on? From his arch nemesis the shark-squid to his traumatizing brush with cannibals, not to mention the impossible escapes with silly means ~ they come off as the result of an overactive imagination, real plight bearing visible scars, or a disturbing mix of both.

- Kya… Good news! I’ll leave her alone. I guess she got away - the gays win! Likewise to Aang’s passion for raising an airbending child after a hundred-year upset, Katara would delight in teaching a spunky water girl after growing up alone in her tribe. Not as much time with Daddy; safer with Mommy! (Unless I come back to this tyke later… :3)

efishinthesea 3. Korra’s personality

This one is purely my baby… but Aang resonating so closely with Zhao that his reincarnation adopts most, if not all, of his traits and character?

🥺

Oh, how could I even begin to elaborate without melting into an incoherent puddle of rainbows?

You get it, don’t you guys? Spirit-y logic that I can’t physically synthesize when the keys are blurring with my happy tears? Two men connecting in the afterlife, navigating tough roadblocks, finding each other over and over again as their emptiness is fulfilled in ways they could have never imagined? When they finally pass on, finding rest as simple as each other’s company?

Leaving fingerprints on souls, borrowing and receiving energy in a friendship or love like the most wholesome alchemy… eventually building up to an imprint that revives itself in ~ as - Aang’s next life? Like Zhao finally gets his second chance.