"Why do so many people (zutara shippers) dislike Aang?"
The simple answer is that Aang doesn't change.
We the audience are told that he is a dynamic character (ex. when Katara tells him she's proud of him during the Day of Black Sun on top of the submarine when he kisses her) but that difference is never really shown. He reacts pretty much the same way to difficulties thrown his way throughout the entire series. His first response to problems is to go into the avatar state, thereby putting everyone around him, including those he cares about, in danger. He does this when finding out about the Airbender genocide, when confronting the sandbenders who took Appa, and threatens to go into the avatar state when the Ember Island Play version of Katara doesn't return his romantic feelings. I don't necessarily even blame him for the first two instances, but his continued lack of regulation for his emotions makes him somewhat unlikeable, especially when he never apologizes or changes his behavior.
His treatment of Katara in particular is noteworthy here and justifiably annoys a lot of Katara stans (such as myself) because whenever he is in a good mood, he's a great friend to her. He compliments her waterbending, tells her she's an amazing teacher, and stands up to Master Pakku for her. But the moment he's in any way inconvenienced, he's immediately yelling at her about his issues, most of which have nothing to do with her, when all she's trying to do is help. His constant refusal to understand or sympathize with her problems is also very upsetting, because he goes on for several monologues (ex. before the non-con kiss in Ember Island Players) about how challenging things are for him, but never apologizes to her for his outbursts, or offers a safe space for her to talk about her problems. The result is that all of the emotional labor in their relationship (which carries over into Aang's relationship with Sokka and Toph as well) is done by Katara. She is always the one making the effort to appease him or help him feel better, and the relationship therefore comes across as imbalanced or unfair to Katara.
And notice that most of the instances of his lack of regulating his emotions that I've listed are in the latter half of the series. Aang yells at Katara about her not understanding the pressure that he's under (failing to see that she is the last southern waterbender and has also irrevocably tied herself into his quest of ending the war) in the first episode of the finale. His treatment of Katara arguably gets worse throughout the series. And beyond just his relationship with Katara, he's confronted many times with the way his avoidance of his problems/ running away has hurt people, and yet he continues to do this as well in the finale episode, running away from the group after their argument in the beach house courtyard about how he can't kill Ozai, even though the narrative tells us that this tendency to run away is resolved in The Storm, which is in the first season.
Besides how his lack of change continuously hurts the other characters, particularly Katara, and goes without consequence or is left completely unaddressed, it is also just straight up annoying to watch. The nature of fiction is that a character goes through some kind of conflict, learns something about themselves/ changes, and uses those positive changes to face a larger problem, coming out on top because they have evolved as a character. But when a character's problems are consistently ignored, like when the entire guru plotline of him having to give up Katara was scapped just for him to master the avatar state by complete coincidence in the finale, it's frustrating for people with media literacy to watch. The narrative seems to go out of its way to make sure Aang never has to contend with the bad things he does, or at least never has to make any meaningful personal changes because of them, like when Aang burns Katara in season one but she is never angry or upset with him because she magically learns how to heal right after. And to be clear I'm not holding Aang to the standard that I would a real twelve-year-old, because, again, that is the nature of fiction: Characters have to suffer, grow, and mature, and when they don't, they aren't entertaining or moving to watch. Aang isn't a real twelve-year-old, he's a character who never has to change because the narrative doesn't make him. And when compared to a character like Zuko, who admittedly has made much worse mistakes, but consistently apologizes for them and changes as a result of them, Aang's character arc simply falls flat.
I think rabid Aang Stans and zutara antis fail to realize that zutara shippers are totally aware that Zuko is much worse than Aang for like 80-90% of the series. But Aang always stays the same, even when he's hurting the people closest to him, like Katara. And Zuko genuinely makes an effort to change and make up for his past treatment of Katara, which is why that last 10-20% of the series matters a lot more to shippers than the other 80-90%.
When AI stole your job, your friends are all either presumed dead or not taking your calls, you peaked in your twenties, and you only shaved today because you knew company was coming (to kill you).
People love to push the idea of “Sasuke should’ve stayed alone and never married Sakura, it’s in his nature.” Why would someone who’s been alone most of his life settle for more loneliness later on aswell? The whole point is that Sasuke overcomes isolation and ends up accepting the people that love him. Him marrying Sakura and having a child with her is a sign of a new chapter in his life and growth in his own character. He learns to actually let people in and he’s shown to be much more happier when he does. Let him be happy for fuck sake🤦♀️
Meow! That’s a lot of followers! I’d really, really love to do something special for you all, and since my last poll didn’t go over so well, I thought I’d make it easier. If each of you could please vote in these quick polls (it’ll take less than a minute) I’d really appreciate it:
Who do You Like Seeing Interact with Bruce?
Who do You Like Seeing Interact with Selina?
I would like to cater to you guys since you make me so happy with all your reblogs and notes! The answers will be tallied and I’d like to make a special week and/or event dedicated to the answers! I’ll find various media featuring the winners, maybe even have an honorable mention, and promote it!
This is all thanks to you guys so please, make sure to participate so I can thank you all properly! P.S. Message me if I missed something in the polls!
It's truly astonishing to see how someone is willing to torture themselves by reading a manga they supposedly consider "trash" every month, just so they can have something to rage about on Tumblr and pretend to be a victim of Ikemoto's writing. Back then, they used to act like they understood canon better than anyone else just to defend SasuSaku, but now they've embraced OOC rewrites and delusional KawaSara theories simply because their double standards regarding shipping have been challenged. They hate the storyline but refuse to walk away; they reject canon but live off headcanons. In the end, they don't genuinely care about Sasuke or Sarada's character development—they're simply addicted to the monthly drama and to feeling like they're the "victims" of a fictional story they are perfectly free to walk away from at any time.
Shadow Sovereigns: The Tragic, Wasted Lust of the Shitennou
The 1990s were a chaotic, neon-soaked era of dial-up internet, flip phones, and the sacred ritual of rushing home from the bus stop to catch the afternoon anime block. For a girl growing up in this landscape, the television set was an altar, and the shows flashing across the screen were the gospel of a burgeoning sexuality. We didn’t have the explicit content of the modern age; we had subtext, heavy breathing, and the undeniable allure of the villain. While Tuxedo Mask was the designated romantic hero, throwing roses and reciting awkward poetry, he never quite did it for me. No, my eyes—and the eyes of many a red-blooded girl glued to the screen—were drifting to the sidelines. They were fixed on the Four Kings of the Negaverse, the Shitennou. These men were tall, powerful, clad in varying degrees of fabulous armor and capes, and radiating a toxic, magnetic energy that the "good guys" just couldn't compete with.
The tragedy of the Shitennou isn’t just that they served an evil alien queen; it’s that they were wasted. They were nuanced characters with deep, canonical connections to the Sailor Guardians that the original anime largely ignored or scrubbed away. They deserved a second chance—a redemption arc that would have seen them trade their dark allegiance for the light of love, or at the very least, a steamy, complicated truce. The 90s anime gave us scraps, hints of personalities that were extinguished far too soon, and while the Crystal remake attempted to right these wrongs by including their past romantic entanglements with the guardians, it felt too little, too late. It lacked the grit, the slow burn, and the sheer horniness of a proper redemption arc. This is an ode to the men who defined a generation's dark fantasies, and a manifesto on why they should have lived to rule—and romance—another day.
Jadeite and Rei: The Fire That Never Caught
Jadeite was the first. The blonde, blue-eyed commander who set the bar for villainy in the early episodes. In the 90s anime, he was often reduced to a screaming incompetent, punished by Queen Beryl for his failures, but there was a spark there—specifically when it came to Rei Hino, Sailor Mars. Their dynamic was electric. They clashed constantly, his schemes often centering around the shrine she lived at. There was a scene, unforgettable to anyone with a pulse, where Jadeite disguises himself as a priest or a worker at the shrine, getting into Rei’s personal space with a smirk that promised trouble.
He was the bad boy in the collar, the antithesis of Rei’s disciplined, shrine maiden life. Where she was fire and purity, he was ice and manipulation. The tragedy of Jadeite is that his potential was cut short. He was put into "eternal sleep" before the romance could truly bloom. Imagine if he had survived. Imagine the arc of the fiery priestess falling for the enemy general, trying to bring him to the side of good not just through punches, but through the sheer force of her personality. The 90s anime hinted at a physical attraction; they were arguably the most physically compatible pair, always in each other's faces. A second chance for Jadeite would have meant a redemption arc fueled by Rei’s passion. He wouldn't have been redeemed by Usagi’s universal love; he would have been redeemed by the scorching heat of Mars. It should have been a "hate-to-love" trope for the ages, a slow burn where Jadeite realizes that serving Beryl is a hollow existence compared to the fire burning in Rei’s eyes. They deserved a chance to scream at each other across a battlefield and then make up in a way that would make the censors blush.
Nephrite and the Proof of Humanity
While the prompt demands a focus on the scouts, one cannot discuss the redemption of the Shitennou without acknowledging Nephrite. He was the linchpin, the proof that these villains had hearts capable of change. In the 90s anime, his arc with Naru (Molly) was the first time we saw a villain genuinely question his loyalty. He fell in love with a human girl, and in doing so, he proved that the Shitennou were not mindless drones. This capacity for love should have been the gateway to his relationship with Makoto Kino, Sailor Jupiter.
In the manga and Crystal lore, Nephrite and Jupiter were an item in the Silver Millennium. They were the pair of strength and physical prowess. Makoto, the tough girl with a heart of gold and a penchant for bad boys, would have been perfect for Nephrite. The 90s anime gave us a taste of Nephrite’s complexity—his arrogance, his tactical mind, and eventually, his vulnerability. When he died in Naru’s arms, taking a blast meant for her, it was a wake-up call. He deserved to survive that. He deserved to crawl away, wounded and humbled, and run into Makoto. Imagine the dynamic: the rehabilitated villain, struggling with his past crimes, finding solace in the arms of the one scout who could match him blow for blow. They could have bonded over their shared love of combat, their shared "tough exterior" personas. A second chance for Nephrite wasn't just about saving his life; it was about exploring the idea that a warrior can lay down his sword for love, but keep the strength that made him a warrior in the first place. Makoto deserved a man who could appreciate her strength, not someone who needed protecting. Nephrite was that man.
Zoisite and Ami: The Intellectual Seduction
Zoisite was the pretty one. The effeminate, flute-playing, ice-wielding knight who, in the original Japanese dub and the manga, shared a deep bond with Kunzite, but in the context of the Silver Millennium flashbacks, held a tender connection with Ami Mizuno, Sailor Mercury. This is the pairing that suffered the most from the "one relationship anime" mindset that plagued the franchise. The world was so focused on Usagi and Mamoru that the potential for a meeting of the minds like Zoisite and Ami was completely sidelined.
Think about the possibilities. Ami is the genius of the group, the strategist, the one who analyzes data and thinks circles around the enemy. Zoisite was depicted as cunning, manipulative, and artistic. In Crystal, we saw glimpses of them in the past life, a sweet, almost chaste connection. But in a modern, steamy retelling, this could have been so much more. Zoisite’s redemption could have been an intellectual seduction. He attacks not with brute force, but with illusions and mind games. Ami counters him with logic and reality. It’s a battle of wits that slowly turns into a fascination.
Zoisite deserved a second chance to be more than Kunzite’s shadow or a shrieking villain. He deserved to engage in a battle of brains with Mercury that left them both breathless. The "daddy" vibes might be reserved for Kunzite, but Zoisite brought a different flavor—a more dangerous, seductive, razor-sharp edge. He was the villain who could get inside your head. Imagine Ami realizing that the only person who understands her tactical genius is the enemy. Imagine them meeting in the digital space, a virtual battleground where they move from trying to delete each other to exchanging data, then secrets, then desires. It’s a romance of the mind, which is arguably the hottest kind. The remake gave us a flashback of them holding hands, but we needed the present-day tension. We needed the moment where Zoisite realizes that Beryl’s chaos threatens the order that Ami cherishes, and he switches sides not out of morality, but out of respect for the only mind that can rival his.
Kunzite and Minako: The Ultimate Power Exchange
And then there is Kunzite. The leader of the Four Kings after Jadeite’s fall. The silver-haired, broad-shouldered, cape-wearing epitome of "Daddy." If the Shitennou were the sexual awakening of the 90s, Kunzite was the waking nightmare of adulthood. He was powerful, imposing, and commanded the room with a mere glance. He was the adult in the room, the one who took things seriously, the one who wielded the Dark Power with a terrifying ease.
His canonical counterpart is Minako Aino, Sailor Venus, the leader of the Sailor Guardians. The dynamic here is perfection. It is the clash of two leaders. Minako is the "Soldier of Love," but she is also a battle-hardened veteran who often puts the mission above her own heart. Kunzite is the ultimate soldier, loyal to a fault until his loyalty is shattered. The potential here is not just a romance; it is a power exchange.
The "daddy kink" is palpable with Kunzite. He exudes authority. He is older, wiser, and stronger than the other generals. He doesn’t whine or scheme like Zoisite; he acts. When he looks at the Sailor Guardians, it’s with a gaze of assessment, not just malice. In a redeemed arc, Kunzite would not be a simpering love interest. He would be a challenge to Minako. He would question her leadership, her strategies, forcing her to be better. And Minako, being the goddess of love and war, would love every second of it.
This is where the "steamy" aspect comes in. A relationship between Kunzite and Minako is a negotiation of power. He is used to being in charge of the generals; she is used to being in charge of the scouts. When they come together, it shouldn’t be sweet. It should be a collision. Imagine the tension in a room where they are trying to plan a joint assault on a mutual enemy. The air would be thick with it. Kunzite, leaning back in a chair, legs spread, arms crossed, watching Minako pace. He respects her, but he also wants to dominate her. He sees the warrior beneath the cute exterior.
Minako, for her part, would not submit easily. But the thrill would be in the attempt. Kunzite represents the safety of surrender. He is strong enough to take the weight of the world off her shoulders, if only for a night. The "daddy" dynamic isn't just about age; it's about competence and protection. Kunzite is the fortress. He is the man who can handle whatever the universe throws at him, and that allows Minako to let go of the control she clings to so tightly.
The remake Crystal gave us a glimpse of this in the past life—a tragically brief moment where they recognize each other before he dies. It was a tease, a cruel joke. We deserved to see the present-day version. We deserved to see Kunzite break free of Beryl’s mind control (a plot device that robbed him of his agency) and look at Minako not as an enemy, but as a worthy partner. The sexual tension between them would be based on mutual respect and the realization that they are the only two who truly understand the burden of leadership.
It’s a missed opportunity of epic proportions. Imagine the scene: a rainy night in Tokyo, a rooftop encounter. Minako, exhausted from a battle, is cornered by Kunzite. She expects a fight. Instead, he offers her a hand. He speaks in that deep, resonant voice, telling her that he sees her fatigue. He offers to take command for a while, to let her rest. It’s an offer that is both threatening and incredibly alluring. That is the essence of the kink—the desire to be led by someone capable. Kunzite is the ultimate Daddy because he doesn't ask; he assumes. He takes control because he knows he can handle it. And Minako, the leader who never gets to follow, finds herself willingly stepping into his shadow, just for a moment.
Conclusion: A Polyamorous Kingdom of Shadows
The tragedy of the Shitennou is that they were designed to be the dark mirrors of the Senshi, and yet, they were never allowed to reflect that light for long. The narrative insistence on the singular romance of Usagi and Mamoru did a disservice to the rich tapestry of relationships that could have woven this universe together. The Four Kings deserved a second chance not just because they were hot—though god, they were—but because they offered a complexity to the story that was desperately needed.
A show that moved beyond the "one relationship" model could have explored a world where redemption is messy. Where Jadeite and Rei fight and fuck with equal passion. Where Nephrite learns to love life through Makoto’s cooking. Where Zoisite and Ami hack the mainframe and fall in love in the code. And where Kunzite and Minako rule the side-lines with a sexy, iron-fisted grace that leaves everyone else trembling.
Growing up in the 90s, we didn't get to see these stories play out. We got the silence of the "eternal sleep" and the heartbreak of single-episode deaths. But the fantasy remains. The lust remains. The Four Kings of the Negaverse will always be the kings of our wasted potential, the "what ifs" that fuel the imagination. They were the bad boys we wanted to save, and in saving them, we might just have saved ourselves from the boredom of a black-and-white world. They deserved more. They deserved the steam, the redemption, and the chance to show that even a servant of the Negaverse can be the master of a heart.
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