Out of touch adult person. Mostly a lurker, fic writer, and creator of many lore tracking resources. Currently hyper-focused on Legend of Zelda and Gundam Wing.
Also runs @the-evil-librarian
This blog includes adult content.
My Writing
The Chain Means Pack series. FAQs, if i get any, can be found here:
Legend of Zelda Stories
Gundam Wing Stories
- Roadmap to Reunion, a reunion story for Heero Yuy and Odin Lowe
- art a friend made from this story
Gundam Wing Close-Watch Tag
Star Wars Stories
Ronin Warriors/Yoroiden Samurai Troopers Stories
Red vs. Blue Stories
Hetalia Stories
Gravity Falls Stories
Credit
PFP source
Header Image Source: The Legend of Zelda 30th Anniversary Art edit from Nintendo.
I’ve been getting a lot of Gundam Wing-related commissions lately (no complaints ;D) This is the latest, which is also over on Deviant Art. I suppose it was inevitable that an Iron-Blooded Orphans/Gundam Wing crossover would happen, so here’s a small contribution.
I’m sure I’m not the first person to say this but the sea longing is a concept so imbued with potential for horror to me
Being unable to find peace in your own skin, in your own home. Being drawn against your will further and further away. The agonising call of the lands beyond the ocean, carried like a parasitic song in the gulls and sandpipers.
A distant echo never leaving your mind
There is such a visceral horror already to me in the elves of Beleriand and Middle Earth who never wished to come to Valinor, who die whether through misfortune or violence, and who return to life only to be separated forever from their home.
And the sea longing is a quieter, more subtle and insidious strain of this horror
(Yoinked this from LinkedIn, genuinely interested in seeing how responses align with demographics) (so far it’s those of us over 35 being indignant but I wanna see how those fully plays out) (it’s cultural and technological history/memory, bruh)
Mobile Suit Gundam Wing is a formative, fan-favorite entry in the long-running mecha franchise, but it's not without its share of frustratin
You'd think an article calling Gundam Wing the show that walked a generation into anime would, at some point, say what the show did right. This one doesn't. Eight entries, all deficits, and the omission gets dressed up as clear-eyed honesty. A fair piece keeps both columns open. Here's where it breaks, here's what it did that nothing before it had, now weigh them yourself. Cherry-picking the faults and headlining them as a public service is a different genre. It's clickbait.
I've been in this fandom since it ran on Toonami. The piece reads as an insult to everyone who found anime through this show, the fans who were there in 1995 and the ones still here thirty years later. So here's my response:
Fine. The article can have everything it wants.
The pilots brood so hard they loop back around into comedy. Heero tells a schoolgirl "I will kill you" in the first episode and it lands like a threat from someone who has never once spoken to a human being. The pacing falls apart after the director leaves. There's recycled animation. Two recap episodes get stapled together at the worst possible moment. Zechs is Char with the serial numbers barely filed off. All true. I'm not going to sit here and pretend Wing is a clean piece of work.
Here's the move the article makes and hopes you won't notice. It lists things a show does imperfectly, then calls that a reason to stop watching. Those aren't the same claim. Every ambitious anime from that decade is a pile of concessions. Evangelion ran out of money and ended in a folding chair. The article knows this, it even links to its own roundup of "unwatchable" 90s anime, which is its own tell.
What stings isn't the criticism. It's the conclusion tucked underneath it, that if you've loved this show, you've been loving something beneath you. Pretty boys. Fangirl bait. A starter Gundam for people who don't know better. I've heard that tone my whole fandom life and I finally have something to put in front of it.
The people who made Wing sat down for the 30th anniversary, talked, and released a whole special issue of interviews in 2025: "GREAT MECHANICS G 2025 AUTUMN". To the author of this article, I say — read what they had to say.
That "pretty boys pandering to fangirls" label, the one the article treats as the show's actual DNA? Series composer Katsuyuki Sumizawa says it came from a padded pitch document, written to get the project greenlit, describing a series he and director Masashi Ikeda "never had any intention of actually making." It leaked to a magazine before a single episode aired. The image welded itself to a war story they were fighting to make grim. The thing the article mocks Wing for being is the thing its writers spent a year trying not to make.
The "messy, contradictory political messaging"? That's 1995 getting into the water supply. Wing aired the year of the Kobe earthquake and the Tokyo subway sarin attack, months apart, in a Japan where the clean old story of two superpowers had already come apart into a tangle of civil wars and militias. So the show splinters OZ, then splinters the splinter, turns the colonies against the pilots and the pilots against each other. The article counts that as too many warring factions. The creators counted it as the actual shape of the decade they were living in. Dislike how hard it is to follow, sure. The incoherence is pointed.
The recycled animation filed under laziness? Ikeda used the animation banks on purpose, to pull weight off a staff that was drowning. Wish he hadn't if you like. It wasn't a shortcut nobody noticed.
And the big one, the thing the article keeps circling without naming: Wing is uneven because it was made alive. Ikeda built it on what Sumizawa calls "lucky happenings," ideas that showed up mid-production and rerouted the whole story, the way Wing self-destructing in episode ten blew up the plan they'd started with. Ikeda didn't leave partway through because he fought with anyone. He ran dry on those sparks. He'd poured out everything he had. Thirty years later Sumizawa still won't tell you what the show finally means: "I can't draw any conclusions," he says, about a series he wrote and then kept writing for another decade.
That isn't a flaw to apologize for. A show made that way lurches, yes. It also does things a tidier production sands right off. The characters "burst out," in Sumizawa's word, because nobody had them fully boxed in yet. The lines no real person would ever say, like Relena's "Heero, hurry and come kill me," survive because Ikeda could make an unhinged line carry weight that even he couldn't explain. You don't get that from a show with itself under control. You get it from this one.
While we're on the pretty boys. The anniversary retrospective makes a case the article would choke on, that Wing's real legacy is the "unisex turn." Gundam had spent years hardening into a boys' club built around model kits. Wing was deliberately built as a Gundam women would come to as well, and it became the most profitable entry in the franchise since the 1979 original, a record it kept until SEED. Every alternative Gundam after it carries that fingerprint. The boy band the article finds embarrassing is why the franchise reopened to half its audience. Be embarrassed if you want. History isn't.
Which brings me to the headline itself. A show that's genuinely hard to watch does not get new animated material three decades on. It doesn't hold a fandom that still argues about it, still draws it, still writes it, still shows up loyal to the original anime over every sequel and retcon that came after. When the new material was announced, we didn't groan. We celebrated, because it meant the interest was still there, enough of it to be worth Sunrise's time in the years to come.
Some of us are bracing too. If "new material" ends up meaning Frozen Teardrop, a lot of us will have opinions, and none of them soft. Notice that Sumizawa himself won't call Frozen Teardrop the true sequel. So this fandom the article pictures squinting at something it can't defend is discerning enough to reject a bad continuation of the thing it loves. We're not uncritical. We've just done the reading. We've done the thinking. We've had 30 years to think this through.
I've personally written tens of thousands of words about this show, specifically about how one of these "pretty boys" thinks. Not that the show handed me a finished psychology, but because it left enough real material on the floor that you could build one and have it hold.
You don't do that with something that plays as "unintentional comedy." You do it with something that got under your skin and stayed. For. Thirty. Years!
A show nobody can stand doesn't get redrawn thirty years on. It doesn't get argued about at 2 a.m. by people who know exactly where it breaks and stayed anyway. That's most of us fans, both in the past and the ones remaining in the present. Knowing where it breaks was never a reason to drop it. It was a reason to build, and oh how this fandom built over the years!
