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icegoddessrukia · 15 days ago

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Farewell's Journal

1st Entry - Revolutionshipping: a bond beyond time.

Few relationships in Yu-Gi-Oh! carry as much unspoken depth as that between Atem and Anzu.

From the earliest chapters of the manga, Kazuki Takahashi wove a connection between them that was complex, layered, and undeniably magnetic.

Though it never materialized into romance, the chemistry was always there—lingering in stolen glances, quiet moments, and the weight of unspoken words.

Why is Revolutionshipping so special

The dynamic between Atem and Anzu is one of contrasts and complements.

Atem carries the weight of his past and destiny, while Anzu embodies dreams, the future, and the pursuit of something beyond the known. She is drawn to his strength, wisdom, and mystery, while he finds in her a grounding presence—someone who sees him as more than just a ruler or a spirit bound to a puzzle.

Their bond isn’t built on shared childhood memories like Anzu and Yugi’s, but on something more immediate and instinctual—an unspoken understanding that, in another life, in another time, could have been something more.

There’s an undeniable chemistry in their interactions.

Unlike Yugi, Anzu instinctively responds to Atem’s confidence and presence. She challenges him in ways others don’t, and he respects her not just out of gratitude but as an equal. She doesn’t idolize him, nor does she depend on him for protection—she simply sees him for who he is, both as a king and as a person.

In turn, Atem brings out a different side of her. With him, she is both challenged and inspired.

They don’t just complement each other’s strengths; they uplift each other in moments of doubt, creating a bond that is as grounding as it is inspiring.

Their personalities complement each other naturally.

Anzu is ambitious, determined, and unafraid to challenge authority—qualities that align with Atem’s own strength and leadership.

Unlike Yugi, who is more hesitant, Atem meets her at her level, creating a connection built on mutual respect and attraction.

At the same time, they balance each other’s weaknesses.

Atem, despite his confidence, carries the burden of duty and isolation, struggling to express vulnerability.

Anzu encourages him to see beyond obligation and embrace the idea of personal happiness.

Conversely, she sometimes doubts her own path, torn between dreams and reality, and Atem, with his unwavering resolve, reminds her to believe in herself and move forward without fear.

What Anzu and Atem share that Yugi does not

One of the most overlooked yet telling revo moments in the manga is chapter 41.

Anzu and Yugi make a love test with their lovely two, but it doesn’t beep.

When Atem takes over however, the Tamagotchi reacts.

While this may seem like a small detail, it almost feels as if Kazuki Takahashi himself is subtly suggesting their compatibility—after all, why include such a moment if not to highlight a contrast?

Evidence of this can be seen as early as Season 0, where several moments between them were removed, a trend that continued into the 2000s anime adaptation.

This isn’t the only time we see this dynamic.

In the early chapters of the manga, when Takahashi had more creative freedom, there are numerous moments that highlight Anzu and Atem’s unique connection.

As the series progresses, Atem becomes more distant, but this shift seems less like a natural evolution of his character and more like an editorial decision to reinforce his contrast with Yugi.

Why it can’t happen

Atem does not belong in Anzu’s world, just as she does not belong in his.

His very existence is tied to the past, to a destiny that was set in motion thousands of years ago.

No matter how much either of them may wish otherwise, Atem’s journey was always leading him toward one inevitable conclusion—returning to the afterlife.

This is why their relationship remains forever in the realm of “what if.”

Unlike other potential romances, this one is never given a real chance, not because of lack of feelings, but because it was never meant to be realized.

The story itself does not allow it.

Anzu’s development: from attraction to love

Anzu’s feelings for Atem evolve gradually throughout the series. Initially, she sees him as a mysterious, confident version of Yugi—an aspect of him that had always been hidden. In the early manga and anime, she expresses fascination with this other Yugi, believing him to be just another side of Yugi himself. At this stage, her emotions remain tied to Yugi as a whole, rather than recognizing Atem as his own person.

This idea is reinforced in chapter 80 of the manga, where she states that it doesn’t matter which of the two she is with—because to her, they are both Yugi. However, this moment also marks a turning point. As the story progresses, she begins to understand the truth: Atem is not Yugi. He is someone else entirely, with his own thoughts, struggles, and destiny.

Atem is the one who challenges her, who meets her intensity, who resonates with her in a way Yugi never quite does. Even if she never says it out loud, her heart had already chosen.

This realization shifts her feelings from an innocent crush to something deeper—marked by admiration, longing, and an undeniable chemistry.

Though she deeply cares for Yugi, their bond is built on friendship and familiarity rather than passion and attraction.

Atem’s development: from loneliness to the Duat

Atem’s journey isn’t just about regaining his memories—it’s about finding his place in the world and, ultimately, accepting his fate.

And Anzu plays a pivotal role in this.

She is the one who, perhaps more than anyone else, encourages him to follow his heart, even when it means facing the painful truth: his destiny lies beyond this world.

Despite loving him, despite knowing what it will cost her, she chooses to support him. That selflessness is exactly what gives Atem the strength to walk forward.

Through Anzu, Atem learns not just who he was, but who he is.

But beyond the emotional support, Anzu also plays a crucial role in uncovering his past.

Without her, Atem wouldn’t have remembered his true name—one of the most vital keys to his journey.

It is through her that he bridges the gap between his forgotten past and his present self.

The cartouche she gifts him, the name she helps him reclaim… these aren’t just symbolic gestures. They are tangible, irreplaceable moments that lead him to his ultimate resolution.

And when the moment comes for him to step into the Duat, Atem is already resolute in his choice.

The unwavering belief she has always shown in him, the way she has pushed him forward throughout his journey, is part of what gave him the strength to make that decision in the first place.

Even if she can no longer influence his path, her presence in his life has already shaped the person he has become.

And this is where Anzu plays a unique role.

While Yugi cares for Atem, he never truly pushes him to focus on himself.

Instead, he leaves that task to Anzu.

She is the one who doesn’t just stand by his side in battle, but actively seeks out his well-being, making sure that, for once, someone is looking after him.

In this way, Anzu gives Atem something no one else does—the space to be vulnerable, to be human, and to be loved.

Atem’s resolve: holding back.

Despite whatever feelings he may have, Atem is fully aware of his fate.

He is not meant to stay in the present, and he refuses to take anything away from Yugi—including the possibility of a relationship with Anzu. He values Yugi too much to ever interfere with his happiness.

This is another reason why Atem never openly acknowledges any feelings he may have for Anzu.

He knows that if he allows himself to get too close, it will only make leaving harder—not just for him, but for her as well.

His concern for her safety goes beyond that of a simple friend—he takes responsibility for her well-being in a way that is deeply personal.

Despite his restraint, Atem is undeniably protective of Anzu.

Time and time again, he is the first to step in when she is in danger, whether it’s during Duelist Kingdom, Battle City, or even small moments in between.

Her silence speaks volumes. It shows her loyalty to Yugi, her unwillingness to be selfish at his expense.

There’s also another subtle but important detail—Anzu never directly tells Atem about her feelings for him.

This isn’t because she’s uncertain, but rather because she prioritizes Yugi’s feelings over her own.

She knows that if she were to openly confess to Atem, it could deeply hurt Yugi, who has always been there for her. This hesitation isn’t about doubt; it’s about kindness.

Why Yugi supports them

One of the most fascinating aspects of this dynamic is Yugi’s own role in it.

Despite his own feelings for Anzu, he actively encourages her to spend time with Atem, believing that it will help the Pharaoh feel more connected to their world.

And he’s right—Atem does open up more when he’s with Anzu, becoming not just a king or a protector, but a person.

Yugi’s actions can be interpreted in multiple ways.

On one hand, he may simply believe he doesn’t have a chance with Anzu and steps aside out of selflessness.

On the other, Yugi is deeply empathetic—he understands people better than they understand themselves. Perhaps he sees something in Atem that isn’t explicitly stated: a growing attachment, an unspoken longing. It’s possible that Yugi recognizes Atem’s feelings before even Atem himself does, and rather than stand in the way, he allows things to unfold naturally.

Unlike Yugi, Atem is restrained—both by his nature and by his role. People often forget that he is a Pharaoh, a figure bound by duty, where personal attachments have no place.

What makes this even more compelling is that, while Atem and Yugi are opposites in many ways, they are ultimately two sides of the same person. This likely extends to their emotions as well.

If Yugi harbors feelings for Anzu, it’s not unthinkable that Atem does too, even if he is less outwardly expressive about them.

Atem embodies the full weight of that responsibility, to the point where his entire existence is dedicated to protecting others, often at his own expense.

Why Revolutionshipping makes more sense

In the Yu-Gi-Oh! fandom, many fans explore different pairings and relationships between characters. Some of these relationships are clearly romantic, like Yugi’s feelings for Anzu or Jounouchi’s affection for Mai. Even Kaiba’s attachment to the Blue-Eyes White Dragon has romantic undertones, given his past life connection with Kisara. However, when it comes to Atem, there is no definitive indication in the series that he shares romantic feelings for anyone.

Atem’s connection with Yugi is unique and deeply emotional, but it is more akin to that of brothers or two souls bound by a shared destiny. Their bond transcends friendship, but it is not romantic. The connection between them is based on mutual respect and the understanding that they are two halves of the same soul. Their relationship is rooted in a deep, almost spiritual link, rather than any romantic tension.

When we consider Atem’s historical context, things become clearer. Atem is not only the spirit of a pharaoh, but also the reincarnation of Tutankhamun, who was married to Ankhesenamun.

As a ruler in ancient Egypt, Atem’s life and role would have been defined by the expectations of his time—marriage and the need for heirs. This historical perspective further supports the idea that Atem’s connection is naturally inclined toward a romantic bond with a woman.

Anzu, with her unwavering support, helps Atem confront his past and come to terms with his destiny, making their relationship one that holds the potential for love.

A love that could never be

Revolutionshipping is a story of love that was never meant to happen. Not because there was no connection, but because fate simply did not allow it.

Atem’s duty was always to return to the past, and Anzu’s future was already planned in the present.

But perhaps that’s what makes their bond so powerful.

It is a love that exists between two people from different worlds—one that could have been, if only time had allowed it.

And sometimes, the most unforgettable love stories are the ones that never truly had a chance.

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icegoddessrukia · 15 days ago

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One of my favourite ship specific dynamics is when Mai is broken up with/aloof or mean towards Zuko and he's just there teasing her/being vaguely flirty

#Maiko

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icegoddessrukia · 16 days ago

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I really don't understand how "without getting kudos or comments a fanfiction author is going to assume that people who clicked their fic didn't like it" became a controversial take.

I don't know why some people think an author should imagine, or guess that people who click their fic enjoyed it it when nobody is telling them that.

If you're re-reading a fic constantly, or leaving it up in your tab so that it re-loads every day for a hundred days the author is not going to know that unless you tell them. They'd love to hear it. It would make their day.

And if you don't tell them you liked their fic, there's no reason for them to assume you did.

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icegoddessrukia · 17 days ago

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no, i dont lose hyperfixations. theyre just moved to a different, slightly less used, shelf in my brain.

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icegoddessrukia · 20 days ago

Text

Farewell's Journal

1st Entry - Revolutionshipping: a bond beyond time.

Few relationships in Yu-Gi-Oh! carry as much unspoken depth as that between Atem and Anzu.

From the earliest chapters of the manga, Kazuki Takahashi wove a connection between them that was complex, layered, and undeniably magnetic.

Though it never materialized into romance, the chemistry was always there—lingering in stolen glances, quiet moments, and the weight of unspoken words.

Why is Revolutionshipping so special

The dynamic between Atem and Anzu is one of contrasts and complements.

There’s an undeniable chemistry in their interactions. Unlike Yugi, Anzu instinctively responds to Atem’s confidence and presence. She challenges him in ways others don’t, and he respects her not just out of gratitude but as an equal. She doesn’t idolize him, nor does she depend on him for protection—she simply sees him for who he is, both as a king and as a person. In turn, Atem brings out a different side of her. With him, she is both challenged and inspired.

Their personalities complement each other naturally. Anzu is ambitious, determined, and unafraid to challenge authority—qualities that align with Atem’s own strength and leadership. Unlike Yugi, who is more hesitant, Atem meets her at her level, creating a connection built on mutual respect and attraction. At the same time, they balance each other’s weaknesses. Atem, despite his confidence, carries the burden of duty and isolation, struggling to express vulnerability. Anzu encourages him to see beyond obligation and embrace the idea of personal happiness. Conversely, she sometimes doubts her own path, torn between dreams and reality, and Atem, with his unwavering resolve, reminds her to believe in herself and move forward without fear.

They don’t just complement each other’s strengths; they uplift each other in moments of doubt, creating a bond that is as grounding as it is inspiring.

What Anzu and Atem share that Yugi does not

One of the most overlooked yet telling revo moments in the manga is chapter 41.

Anzu and Yugi make a love test with their lovely two, but it doesn’t beep. When Atem takes over however, the Tamagotchi reacts. While this may seem like a small detail, it almost feels as if Kazuki Takahashi himself is subtly suggesting their compatibility—after all, why include such a moment if not to highlight a contrast?

This isn’t the only time we see this dynamic. In the early chapters of the manga, when Takahashi had more creative freedom, there are numerous moments that highlight Anzu and Atem’s unique connection. As the series progresses, Atem becomes more distant, but this shift seems less like a natural evolution of his character and more like an editorial decision to reinforce his contrast with Yugi.

Evidence of this can be seen as early as Season 0, where several moments between them were removed, a trend that continued into the 2000s anime adaptation.

Why it can’t happen

Atem does not belong in Anzu’s world, just as she does not belong in his.

His very existence is tied to the past, to a destiny that was set in motion thousands of years ago. No matter how much either of them may wish otherwise, Atem’s journey was always leading him toward one inevitable conclusion—returning to the afterlife.

This is why their relationship remains forever in the realm of “what if.” Unlike other potential romances, this one is never given a real chance, not because of lack of feelings, but because it was never meant to be realized. The story itself does not allow it.

Anzu’s development: from attraction to love

This realization shifts her feelings from an innocent crush to something deeper—marked by admiration, longing, and an undeniable chemistry. Though she deeply cares for Yugi, their bond is built on friendship and familiarity rather than passion and attraction.

Atem is the one who challenges her, who meets her intensity, who resonates with her in a way Yugi never quite does. Even if she never says it out loud, her heart had already chosen.

Atem’s development: from loneliness to the Duat

Atem’s journey isn’t just about regaining his memories—it’s about finding his place in the world and, ultimately, accepting his fate. And Anzu plays a pivotal role in this. She is the one who, perhaps more than anyone else, encourages him to follow his heart, even when it means facing the painful truth: his destiny lies beyond this world. Despite loving him, despite knowing what it will cost her, she chooses to support him. That selflessness is exactly what gives Atem the strength to walk forward.

But beyond the emotional support, Anzu also plays a crucial role in uncovering his past. Without her, Atem wouldn’t have remembered his true name—one of the most vital keys to his journey. It is through her that he bridges the gap between his forgotten past and his present self. The cartouche she gifts him, the name she helps him reclaim… these aren’t just symbolic gestures. They are tangible, irreplaceable moments that lead him to his ultimate resolution.

Through Anzu, Atem learns not just who he was, but who he is.

And when the moment comes for him to step into the Duat, Atem is already resolute in his choice. The unwavering belief she has always shown in him, the way she has pushed him forward throughout his journey, is part of what gave him the strength to make that decision in the first place. Even if she can no longer influence his path, her presence in his life has already shaped the person he has become.

And this is where Anzu plays a unique role. While Yugi cares for Atem, he never truly pushes him to focus on himself. Instead, he leaves that task to Anzu. She is the one who doesn’t just stand by his side in battle, but actively seeks out his well-being, making sure that, for once, someone is looking after him. In this way, Anzu gives Atem something no one else does—the space to be vulnerable, to be human, and to be loved.

Atem’s resolve: holding back.

Despite whatever feelings he may have, Atem is fully aware of his fate.

This is another reason why Atem never openly acknowledges any feelings he may have for Anzu. He knows that if he allows himself to get too close, it will only make leaving harder—not just for him, but for her as well.

Despite his restraint, Atem is undeniably protective of Anzu. Time and time again, he is the first to step in when she is in danger, whether it’s during Duelist Kingdom, Battle City, or even small moments in between.

His concern for her safety goes beyond that of a simple friend—he takes responsibility for her well-being in a way that is deeply personal.

There’s also another subtle but important detail—Anzu never directly tells Atem about her feelings for him. This isn’t because she’s uncertain, but rather because she prioritizes Yugi’s feelings over her own. She knows that if she were to openly confess to Atem, it could deeply hurt Yugi, who has always been there for her. This hesitation isn’t about doubt; it’s about kindness.

Her silence speaks volumes. It shows her loyalty to Yugi, her unwillingness to be selfish at his expense.

Why Yugi supports them

One of the most fascinating aspects of this dynamic is Yugi’s own role in it. Despite his own feelings for Anzu, he actively encourages her to spend time with Atem, believing that it will help the Pharaoh feel more connected to their world. And he’s right—Atem does open up more when he’s with Anzu, becoming not just a king or a protector, but a person.

Yugi’s actions can be interpreted in multiple ways. On one hand, he may simply believe he doesn’t have a chance with Anzu and steps aside out of selflessness. On the other, Yugi is deeply empathetic—he understands people better than they understand themselves. Perhaps he sees something in Atem that isn’t explicitly stated: a growing attachment, an unspoken longing. It’s possible that Yugi recognizes Atem’s feelings before even Atem himself does, and rather than stand in the way, he allows things to unfold naturally.

What makes this even more compelling is that, while Atem and Yugi are opposites in many ways, they are ultimately two sides of the same person. This likely extends to their emotions as well. If Yugi harbors feelings for Anzu, it’s not unthinkable that Atem does too, even if he is less outwardly expressive about them.

Unlike Yugi, Atem is restrained—both by his nature and by his role. People often forget that he is a Pharaoh, a figure bound by duty, where personal attachments have no place.

Atem embodies the full weight of that responsibility, to the point where his entire existence is dedicated to protecting others, often at his own expense.

Why Revolutionshipping makes more sense

When we consider Atem’s historical context, things become clearer. Atem is not only the spirit of a pharaoh, but also the reincarnation of Tutankhamun, who was married to Ankhesenamun. As a ruler in ancient Egypt, Atem’s life and role would have been defined by the expectations of his time—marriage and the need for heirs. This historical perspective further supports the idea that Atem’s connection is naturally inclined toward a romantic bond with a woman.

Given this, it makes more sense for Atem’s romantic potential to lie with someone like Anzu. While Atem never explicitly expresses his feelings in the series, their growing bond over time suggests a connection that could develop into something deeper. Anzu, with her unwavering support, helps Atem confront his past and come to terms with his destiny, making their relationship one that holds the potential for love.

A love that could never be

Revolutionshipping is a story of love that was never meant to happen. Not because there was no connection, but because fate simply did not allow it. Atem’s duty was always to return to the past, and Anzu’s future was already planned in the present.

But perhaps that’s what makes their bond so powerful. It is a love that exists between two people from different worlds—one that could have been, if only time had allowed it. And sometimes, the most unforgettable love stories are the ones that never truly had a chance.

#revolutionshipping

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icegoddessrukia · 20 days ago

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the commodification of friendship is the most annoying thing to come out of the internet in ages. like actually i love to break this to you but you're supposed to help your friends move even if it's hard work. or stay up with them when they're sad even if you're gonna lose sleep. you're supposed to listen to their fears and sorrows even if it means your own mind takes on a little bit of that weight. that's how you know that you care. they will drive you to the airport and then you will make them soup when they're sick. you're supposed to make small sacrifices for them and they are supposed to do that for you. and there's actually gonna be rough patches for both of you where the balance will be uneven and you will still be friends and it will not be unhealthy and they will not be abusive. life is not meant to be an endless prioritization of our own comfort if it was we would literally never get anywhere ever. jesus.

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icegoddessrukia · 20 days ago

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What do you think about the take that maiko was written to show that they were dysfunctional and shouldn't be together but the writers made them endgame in the last minute to tidy things up?

I think it's one of the dumbest things I've ever heard. But you were probably expecting that. XD

Let's prove it mathematically. Toph is a main protagonist. Toph has a romance teased with Sokka that doesn't go anywhere. Toph also gets a lesser romantic tease with Zuko. Toph doesn't get an endgame romance. If the storytellers cared about pairing people off for "tidiness," then how could they leave one of the main protagonists single after establishing two different crushes for her? If Zuko needs a romance for "tidiness," why wasn't he paired with Toph? QED.

But that's not as much fun as talking about Maiko. So let's trace the arc and see if it actually looks like a dysfunctional dynamic turned into a positive romance at the last minute.

The only place where Maiko seems even a little dysfunction in The Beach; otherwise, they're always getting alone and being affectionate with each other and Zuko is always smiling in Mai's presence unless Azula is present and actively trying to ruin their fun. And in The Beach portrays the root of their problems being Zuko's self-loathing, not any problem with each other. Sure, Zuko talks about Mai being a "big blah," but he also insults Ty Lee there for walking on her hands, so I think he's just cranking and picking on the girls' most obvious characteristics because he's a bully and misogynist. Once he admits to being angry at himself, he's able to get along with everyone again, including with Mai and some characteristically physical affection.

So if the intention was for them to be dysfunctional, that's a huge writing failure. It's not present in the story, which is especially odd if that was the real intention and the Happily Ever After was a last-minute whim. We can't even say that Mai was a bad influence on Zuko, as she literally never influences him in any way at any point in their relationship -- except for one, which will discuss in a moment -- merely supporting whatever it is he thinks he wants at any given second.

And that one moment of influence Mai has? She's part of the group encouraging Zuko to be honest with himself about the source of his anger. And I'm having a hard time figuring out how that's toxic.

As I like to say, if someone is arguing that some other ship would have been written better than Maiko, then no, it wouldn't have been. It would have been written by the same people who are terrible romance storytellers no matter what ship we're talking about. But by all means, if militant Zutarians want their ship written by the geniuses behind Makorra and/or Gene Yang, I think their cluelessness is self-evident and it would be impolite to point out how stupid they are.

Anyway, back to the other half of the allegations, that Maiko happened by accident at the last minute to make things "tidy" even though everyone's story arcs were planned in advance of the season's production.

(I swear, some of these fans act like high-quality animation is the same thing as a low-budget live-action scifi show filmed in chronological order by a cast of drug-addicted actors trapped in Toronto. )

The ending of The Boiling Rock where Mai saves Zuko is a load-bearing plot point. The entire second half of that two-parter is made to build up to it, with scenes between Mai and Zuko showing their continued affection for each other and eroding Mai's commitment to the Fire Nation. Then she betrays the Fire Nation, accomplishing her switch to being a Good Guy, and she gets the confrontation with Azula which starts off the absolutely critical Azula Loses Control character arc which directly leads to her defeat.

And that arc is present in all Azula's appearances after Mai's betrayal. She can't stand on her own when she orders Mai and Ty Lee locked up, the first sign of her waning sense of control. Her voice is raw and emotional when she attacks Zuko at the Western Air Temple, and there's the way she has to unpin her hair to save her own life in a series where the hairdos are highly symbolic. Then in the finale, she explodes at Ozai, her godlike father figure, about her treatment. Before her fight with Zuko, spends an entire episode being paranoid and hallucinatory. All of that is caused by Mai.

If Mai wasn't meant to become a Good Guy, where does Azula's arc come from? If Azula wasn't meant to fall apart like that, where else is her character supposed to be properly explored? Was the entire tone of Zuko's confrontation with his sister supposed to be completely different, and not a contrast in their states of mind that conclusively proves the self-destructive nature of Ozai's Fire Nation culture? The whole back-half of the third season for the Fire Nation characters hinges entirely on Mai's grand romantic gesture of saving Zuko.

If the storytellers planned to do all that, then didn't intend for Mai and Zuko to have a triumphant reunion, I don't know how they can consider themselves professionals.

Unless the theory is that it would have been easier to just stick Ty Lee in Mai's place? But then I don't think Zuko's interactions with Ty Lee were any less toxic, so we're still left lopsided there.

I dunno, I'm a bit freaked out at the lengths some people will go to pretend that the Maiko endgame wasn't a regular part of the story. Do they know it's been 17 years since that first aired?

#Maiko

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