#Star Wars should not be watched chronologically

[gorillaxyz]

when i was 11 i really wanted kylo ren

[thereisnolumos]

When you convince your friend to start reading ACOTAR series, promising you’ll watch Star Wars in return, but now she got the books and forbids you to watch Star Wars bcs you almost killed each other over the correct order of watching them😂

[novaursa]

The Heir of Ice and Ash

- Summary: A little less than a year into your marriage with Cregan, you give birth to your first child.

- Paring: velaryon!reader/Cregan Stark

- Note: reader is referred to as Y/N, is only daughter od Rhaenyra, has silver hair and violet eyes, and is bonded with dragon called Thraxata. These events happen after The North Remembers. To read all the chapters in chronological order visit my blog. The list is pinned to the top.

- Rating: Mature 16+

- Word count: 5 115

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff @21-princess

The sun sets below the horizon, painting the skies over Winterfell in hues of deep indigo and velvet, as if the Gods themselves pay tribute to the impending night. You stand by the window, your gaze fixed on the first stars twinkling above. They are a stark contrast against the endless darkness stretching out from the Godswood and the towering walls of the castle. Your hand rests heavily against the swell of your belly, the child within restless, as though sensing the night ahead will be anything but peaceful.

Autumn has fully settled upon the North, and even though the warmth of the hearth blazes behind you, a chill seeps into your bones that no fire can chase away. You shift uncomfortably, feeling a familiar ache in your lower back. It has been a constant companion these past weeks, dull and persistent. But tonight, it pulses more sharply—like the distant beat of a war drum.

Cregan finds you there, framed by the shadows and the low, flickering light of the fire. His presence is a balm, even before he speaks. The Lord of Winterfell—your husband—carries the strength and sternness of the North, but in his eyes, softened by the firelight, there is only concern and tenderness for you. His dark hair is wild, just as the snow-laden winds that howl outside, and a slight frown creases his brow as he crosses the room to you.

"Y/N," he says, his voice low and gravelly, "you should be resting. The Maester said the time grows close. You cannot push yourself like this."

You turn to him, offering a smile that doesn't quite reach your eyes. "Resting makes me feel like a caged dragon," you reply, your voice laced with both fondness and frustration. "Thraxata would gnaw through her own wings before sitting idly while the world shifts around her."

He chuckles, but there’s tension beneath it. Cregan’s large hand covers yours on your belly, and you feel the child stir once more—a reminder of the life you carry, a testament to the love that has grown between you in this stark, unyielding place.

"The child takes after you, then," he murmurs. "Stubborn and fierce."

You meet his gaze, feeling warmth bloom in your chest. "Or perhaps after you—strong and steadfast. A wolf with a dragon's fire."

Before either of you can speak further, a sharp pain lances through your body. You inhale sharply, clutching Cregan’s arm, your nails digging into the fur-lined sleeve. His expression shifts instantly, dark brows knitting together with worry. You feel the tightness spread like a wildfire across your belly, and when it releases, you’re left breathless and trembling.

"Y/N?" The concern in his voice is almost a command, though he’s careful not to let the fear creep into it. "Is it time?"

You shake your head, breathing deeply to steady yourself. "Not yet," you whisper, but even you can hear the uncertainty in your tone. It has been hours since these pains started, subtle and far between at first. But now, they come more frequently, gripping you like waves crashing against a rocky shore.

Cregan doesn’t waste time. He steps away, only long enough to summon Maester Kennet and the midwives. You watch him move with purpose, the Lord of Winterfell transformed into a man both ready to command and helpless in the face of the unknown. His love for you is written in every line of his face, in the tightness of his jaw, in the way his hands curl into fists as if he could fight off the pain on your behalf.

The midwives arrive quickly, bustling into the room with hushed voices and brisk efficiency. They guide you to the bed, their hands gentle yet firm as they help you settle against the piled furs and cushions. You clutch Cregan’s hand as the Maester approaches, his lined face kind but serious as he takes note of your condition.

"How long have the pains been this strong, my lady?" he asks, his voice even but edged with concern.

"A few hours," you admit through gritted teeth. "But it’s growing worse. They’re coming faster now."

The Maester nods gravely, exchanging a glance with the lead midwife. "Your body is preparing, my lady. It may yet be some time before the babe is ready to enter the world, but the process has begun in earnest."

His words offer little comfort. You know, intellectually, that this is how it must be—how it is for every woman who brings forth life—but knowing does nothing to dull the reality of it. Each time the pain comes, it tears through you with a force that leaves you gasping, gripping Cregan’s hand as if it were a lifeline.

"Stay with me, Cregan," you breathe out between labored breaths. You’ve never felt so vulnerable, so desperate for his presence. 

"Always," he promises, his voice a low rumble, grounding you amidst the storm brewing in your body. He presses his forehead against yours, his warmth a beacon in the encroaching darkness. "You are stronger than any dragon, Y/N. You’ll see this through, as you always do—with fire and fury."

The night drags on, and with it, the pain ebbs and flows like the tide, relentless and unyielding. You find yourself slipping between moments of clarity and haze, clinging to Cregan’s voice as he whispers reassurances in your ear, his hand never leaving yours. You hear the midwives speaking softly to one another, discussing the progression, debating when to intervene, when to let nature take its course.

Outside, the wind howls, a mournful sound that seems to echo the turmoil within you. Somewhere far off, perhaps even from the Godswood, you think you hear the distant call of a wolf—your child’s ancestors, awaiting the new life ready to join their pack.

But for now, the waiting continues. The pain intensifies, like the tightening coil of a spring wound to its limit, yet still, there is no sign that the final moment is near. You can feel it, lingering on the edge of every breath—a future that hangs just out of reach, not yet ready to reveal itself.

Exhausted, you close your eyes, letting Cregan’s steady presence be your anchor. The Maester and midwives murmur around you, but their words blur into the background as you focus on the rhythm of your breaths, each inhale and exhale a battle won.

The night is far from over. The child within you stirs as if in answer, reminding you that the fiercest trials are yet to come. And yet, you are a dragon of Velaryon blood, a child of the conquerors and the seas. Winter may have yet to come, but it cannot quell the fire that lives within you. And so, you wait—braced for the storm, knowing that when dawn breaks, it will bring with it either triumph or heartbreak.

But for now, there is only the darkness, the pain, and the unwavering strength of your husband's hand holding yours, as you both prepare to face what lies ahead together.

The night stretches on, thick and unyielding like the ice that blankets the North. The chamber is dim, save for the flicker of the hearth and the low glow of the candles, their light wavering with each gust of wind rattling the shutters. You feel as if time itself has slowed, each moment pulling at you like heavy chains, dragging you deeper into the intensity of the labor.

The pain is unrelenting now, no longer coming in waves but crashing over you like a tempest at sea, leaving no room to breathe, no space to gather your strength. Every muscle in your body is taut, straining as the child within you fights its way into the world. You cling to Cregan’s hand, his knuckles white under the force of your grip. His face is etched with concern, a rare crack in the stoic mask he wears so easily. But beneath it all, his love is there—steady, unwavering, a lighthouse in the storm.

“You’re doing well, Y/N,” the midwife assures you, though her voice seems distant, as if carried through a tunnel. “The babe is moving down. Keep breathing, just like we practiced.”

You grit your teeth, trying to focus on the instructions, but it’s hard to think beyond the pressure building within you, the primal urge to push overwhelming every other instinct. It’s as if a fire roars through your veins, the fury and strength of your dragon blood awakened, urging you to finish this battle.

“I can’t… I don’t know if I can,” you gasp, the words torn from you in a moment of weakness. For a fleeting second, doubt curls in your chest, tightening around your heart.

But Cregan is there, leaning close, his voice a low rumble in your ear, filled with the deep, unyielding strength of the North. “You can. You are Y/N Velaryon—daughter of Rhaenyra, rider of Thraxata, a dragon forged in fire. There’s nothing in this world that can break you, least of all this.”

His words cut through the fog of pain, grounding you, reminding you who you are. You’ve fought for your place in this world—carved it out with both grace and fury—and you’ll fight for this child too, just as fiercely.

The midwife nods, seeing the determination flash in your eyes. “It’s time, my lady. With the next contraction, you must push.”

And so you do.

The first push takes everything you have, and the scream that tears from your throat is one of both agony and defiance. The world narrows to this one moment, the struggle of bringing life into being, of pushing past the pain and fear to reach the light on the other side. You feel the child shift, the head crowning, and the sensation is like being split in two, raw and fierce.

“Good, that’s it!” The midwife’s voice rises with encouragement. “Again, my lady, when the next one comes!”

You barely have time to gather yourself before another contraction grips you, fierce and unrelenting. Sweat beads on your brow, mixing with tears that you’re only half-aware of. You lean into the pain, letting it fuel your resolve, focusing all your energy on bringing this child into the world.

Cregan’s hand is still in yours, his voice a steady chant in your ear. “Almost there, Y/N. You’re almost there. I’m with you. We’re in this together.”

His presence is a comfort, his strength lending you the courage to face the next wave. The room blurs around you—the midwives, the Maester, all of it fading as you focus on the one task that matters. The pain is all-encompassing, a fire burning through you, but there is something else there too—a deep, instinctual knowledge that you are nearing the end, that you are almost ready to meet the child who has been growing inside you for all these months.

“One more, my lady!” The midwife’s voice cuts through, sharp and encouraging. “One final push!”

You gather every ounce of strength left in your body, the remnants of your willpower igniting into one last surge. With a primal roar, you bear down, feeling the child finally slip free, the sensation one of both release and completion. And then, for a moment, there is silence—the world holding its breath in the space between one heartbeat and the next.

Then the air is split by the cry of a newborn—a sound so pure and strong that it brings tears to your eyes. Relief crashes over you, leaving you trembling and gasping for breath. The midwife moves quickly, cleaning the child and wrapping them in soft furs before placing them in your arms.

“It’s a boy, my lady,” she says with a smile, her eyes shining with the joy of the moment.

You look down at your son, tears blurring your vision as you take in the tiny face, scrunched and red, his little fists waving in the air. His hair is dark, like Cregan’s, but when he opens his eyes, you see a familiar shade of violet staring back at you—the mark of your bloodline, of your heritage. He is a perfect blend of both of you, a child of both fire and ice.

Cregan’s breath catches as he looks at the child, awe and tenderness softening his usually stern features. He brushes a hand gently over your hair, pressing a kiss to your damp forehead. “He’s beautiful,” he whispers, his voice thick with emotion. “You’ve done it, Y/N. Our son…”

The joy is overwhelming, the bond between the three of you already stronger than anything you’ve ever known. You cradle your son close, feeling his warmth, hearing his tiny breaths as he calms in your arms. The pain, the exhaustion—it all fades in the face of this moment, the pure love that fills the room like a warm light cutting through the cold.

“What will we name him?” Cregan asks softly, his fingers tracing the baby’s cheek with a touch so gentle it belies the strength in his hands.

You look at your son, feeling the weight of his future, the legacy he carries within him. He is of House Velaryon and House Stark, a bridge between two worlds, a symbol of unity and strength. “Killian,” you finally say, the name rolling off your tongue like a promise, one you will both keep. “Killian Stark.”

Cregan nods, pride and love shining in his eyes. “Killian Stark,” he repeats, his voice filled with certainty, as if speaking the name cements the child’s place in the world.

The midwives move quietly around you, tidying the room and tending to you both, but in this moment, nothing else matters. It’s just you, Cregan, and Killian—the three of you bound together by blood, by love, by the trials of this night. The wind howls outside, but inside, all is warmth and peace. Your child is here, safe in your arms, and for now, that is enough.

You lean back against the pillows, exhaustion finally overtaking you, but you don’t mind. You close your eyes, content in the knowledge that when you wake, you will find Cregan by your side, your son nestled between you both, and the future ahead bright with possibilities.

The night sky is a deep indigo, dusted with a thousand stars, as if the very heavens themselves have come to bear witness to the celebration. Winterfell’s courtyard is alive with the sounds of laughter, the crackle of bonfires, and the deep, melodic hum of Northern songs sung by gruff voices. The air is crisp and cold, but it carries the warmth of joy and camaraderie—a warmth that flows through the gathered Lords and Ladies of the North, drawn together to honor the birth of your son, Killian Stark.

It’s been a month since his arrival, and though the days have been marked by exhaustion and recovery, tonight is a time to celebrate. To revel in the strength of family and the bonds forged in fire and snow. Cregan has spared no effort in ensuring the night is one to remember, filling the halls and courtyard with the rich scents of roasted meats, spiced wine, and hearty stews. Long tables are laid out under the open sky, heavy with food and drink, and adorned with simple yet elegant winter blooms and evergreen boughs.

You stand at Cregan’s side, your fingers intertwined with his, feeling the steady heat of his presence. The fur-lined cloak draped over your shoulders is soft, its weight a comforting reminder of Winterfell’s protective embrace. Killian rests peacefully in your arms, swaddled in thick, dark furs, his tiny face barely visible except for the delicate curve of his nose and the wisps of dark hair peeking out from beneath the blanket. His eyes, the deep violet of your lineage, are closed in contented sleep, unaware of the grand feast being held in his honor.

As you take in the scene before you, you feel a sense of pride swell in your chest. These are your people now—the fierce, loyal Northerners who have accepted you as one of their own. They raise their cups and call out toasts to your health and that of your son, their voices echoing against the ancient stone walls. There is a rugged beauty to this place, to these people, and it’s a beauty that you’ve come to love.

The drums begin to beat—a steady, rhythmic pulse that resonates in the bones, calling the attention of all present. At the center of the courtyard, the space is cleared, and all eyes turn to Cregan as he steps forward, raising his hand for silence. The Northern Lords and Ladies fall quiet, their eyes shining with respect and anticipation.

“My kin, my friends,” Cregan begins, his voice carrying easily across the gathering. There’s a natural authority in the way he speaks, his words as solid and enduring as the mountains that rise beyond Winterfell’s walls. “Tonight, we gather not just to celebrate the birth of my son, Killian, but to honor the woman who brought him into this world, my wife, Y/N. She came to us from beyond our borders, a daughter of fire and sea, yet she has proven herself as fierce and resilient as any Northerner born. She has brought warmth to our halls and strength to our bloodline.”

A murmur of agreement ripples through the crowd, and you feel a flush rise to your cheeks. The pride in Cregan’s voice, the way he speaks of you as both wife and equal, makes your heart swell with love for this man who has made the North your home.

“And to you, Killian Stark,” Cregan continues, turning his gaze to your son, “may you grow strong in the ways of the North, guided by the wisdom of both wolf and dragon. Tonight, we celebrate you and the bonds that unite us all, both as family and as the people of the North.”

A resounding cheer follows his words, the Northern lords lifting their cups high. “To House Stark! To Killian Stark!” they shout in unison, their voices roughened by years of weather and war. “To the Lady of Winterfell!”

The toasts are followed by the deep bellow of warhorns, their sound echoing through the courtyard, signaling the beginning of the night’s revelry. The drums pick up again, faster now, a beat that invites movement, dance, and the unbridled joy of the North’s people. As the first notes of the fiddle and lute join the drums, couples begin to spill onto the cleared space, their steps a blend of tradition and wild abandon.

Cregan returns to your side, offering you a crooked smile. “Would you do me the honor of a dance, my lady?” His tone is light, but there’s an intensity in his gaze that suggests he’s asking much more than that.

You laugh softly, shifting Killian in your arms. “I would, but our son seems to have other ideas.”

Cregan’s eyes soften as he looks at Killian, who remains blissfully unaware of the world around him. “Let me hold him,” he says, taking the child from your arms with a tenderness that never fails to surprise you in a man of such strength. He cradles Killian against his chest, his movements careful, protective. “Go, dance. Let the people see their Lady take part in the traditions of the North.”

With a nod of gratitude, you hand Killian over and let yourself be led into the circle of dancers. The music is lively, the steps quick and purposeful, the kind of dance that demands focus and energy. You let yourself get lost in it, the rhythm of the drums syncing with your heartbeat, your body moving with a grace and fluidity that comes as naturally as flying on dragonback. The Northern women dance alongside you, their steps fierce and determined, their laughter wild and free. The men join in with strong, purposeful movements, celebrating with a raw, untamed joy that feels like a release after the long weeks of winter’s dark grip.

As you twirl and leap, you catch glimpses of Cregan watching you from the edge of the circle, Killian nestled in his arms. He looks at you with a mixture of pride and desire, as if you are both a miracle and a force of nature. The flames of the bonfires dance in his eyes, and in that moment, you feel the strength of the bond you’ve forged here in the North—a bond between a dragon and a wolf, between fire and ice.

The dance ends with a flourish, breathless laughter echoing through the night. You return to Cregan’s side, cheeks flushed, heart racing, but there is no exhaustion, only exhilaration. He hands Killian back to you, his fingers brushing yours with a touch that lingers, a silent promise between husband and wife. 

“Was that Northern enough for you?” you ask playfully, cradling Killian close as the warmth of the firelight wraps around you both.

Cregan grins, his hand resting on your back. “You’ve more than proven yourself, my love. The North is yours as much as it is mine.”

The night continues in a blur of song, drink, and tales told by firelight. The lords and ladies exchange stories of old battles, of hunts and harsh winters survived, weaving a tapestry of history that you are now a part of. The bonds of kinship, of loyalty to House Stark, are celebrated in each toast, in every clap on the back, every shared laugh.

As the hours pass, the revelry slows, giving way to a quieter, more reflective mood. Cregan’s hand finds yours, squeezing gently. “Thank you, Y/N,” he murmurs, his voice low, meant only for your ears. “For giving me a son, for standing beside me in this land of ice and snow. For being the flame that warms these cold stones.”

You lean into him, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath your cheek. “And thank you, Cregan, for giving me a home, a place where I can be both dragon and wolf. Our family is strong, our future bright.”

In the distance, wolves howl, their voices rising in harmony with the night wind, a song that speaks of strength, unity, and the enduring spirit of the North. And in the heart of Winterfell, under the watchful eyes of the old gods and the stars above, you stand together as a family—rooted in tradition, yet reaching toward the future, ready to face whatever the coming winters may bring.

The revelry is in full swing when a sudden, urgent shout pierces the cold night air. “A dragon! A dragon is coming!”

The music halts abruptly, the notes hanging in the silence that follows. All eyes turn to the sky, scanning the darkness for the shape of wings. Even in the depths of night, you know the North is no stranger to strange sights, but the cry of “dragon” sends a ripple of tension through the crowd. It’s rare to see dragons in these lands—this far north, in the heart of autumn.

Your heart leaps to your throat, and a part of you already knows. Before you even spot the golden scales gleaming faintly in the moonlight, you know who it is. The familiar silhouette of a dragon with graceful wings and a golden hue, Syrax—the Queen’s dragon. Your mother has come to Winterfell.

Gasps and murmurs spread through the gathering as people look up in awe, some with fear, others with wonder. Syrax is a radiant sight even in the shadows of night, her scales catching the glow of the bonfires below as she circles the castle. The distinctive thrum of her wings reverberates through the courtyard, a sound that sends a shiver down your spine, not of fear but of anticipation.

Cregan steps closer, his hand instinctively resting on the hilt of his sword. It’s not out of distrust, but out of habit—he is ever the vigilant protector. “It’s her,” you whisper, more to yourself than to him, and he turns to you with understanding in his eyes.

“The Queen,” he murmurs, lowering his hand. “Your mother.”

There’s no mistaking the regal presence in the sky, even before Syrax lands with a soft thud that shakes the ground. The wind stirred by her wings sends cloaks and hair whipping around, and you instinctively tighten your grip on Killian, who stirs but doesn’t wake. Your breath catches as you watch the dragon’s rider dismount, a figure cloaked in dark furs, her silver hair flowing in the night breeze. Even in the shadows, the unmistakable violet eyes of your mother, Queen Rhaenyra, gleam with fierce purpose.

The lords and ladies of the North, who only moments ago were laughing and celebrating, now stand silent, watching the scene unfold with a mix of reverence and curiosity. Many of them have never seen a dragon (as Thraxata prefers her solitude) much less the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms in person. There’s a hushed awe in the air as she strides forward, her gaze sweeping the courtyard until they find you—her daughter.

“Mother…” you breathe, hardly able to believe she’s truly here.

Rhaenyra’s stern expression softens the moment her eyes land on you holding Killian. The lines of worry and weariness that have grown on her face over the years seem to fade, replaced by something softer, something warm and achingly tender. She walks quickly, almost as if she’s afraid she might lose sight of you, and the crowd parts for her as if commanded by an unspoken will.

When she reaches you, she doesn’t hesitate. She pulls you into a tight embrace, wrapping you and Killian in her arms, her breath hitching as she holds you close. The scent of sea salt and smoke clings to her, a comforting reminder of your childhood. “Y/N, my sweet girl,” she murmurs, her voice trembling. “You’ve become a mother yourself.”

You smile through tears as you pull back slightly to look at her. “I have, Mother. Meet your grandson, Killian Stark.”

Rhaenyra’s eyes glisten as she turns her gaze down to the tiny bundle nestled in your arms. She reaches out with trembling hands, and you gently place Killian in her grasp. Her breath catches in her throat as she cradles him, tears spilling freely down her cheeks. “Oh, he’s perfect,” she whispers, her voice cracking with emotion. “He’s so beautiful, Y/N. He’s perfect.”

The Queen, the strong and resolute ruler of the realm, stands before you with tears streaming down her face as she gazes at her first grandchild. Her fingers brush over his soft cheeks, marveling at the dark hair and those distinctive violet eyes that echo her own. She cradles him close to her chest, her tears falling onto his swaddled form as she gently rocks him. “My little dragon,” she whispers lovingly. “My grandson.”

Killian stirs, letting out a soft whimper, and Rhaenyra’s face lights up with a radiant smile, despite the tears. She presses a kiss to his forehead, her tears mingling with her laughter. “He’s strong. I can feel it,” she says, her voice thick with pride. “He has the blood of both the dragon and the wolf. He’ll be a force to be reckoned with one day.”

You stand beside her, emotions overwhelming you as you watch the most powerful woman in the realm reduced to tears by the sight of her grandchild. “Mother, I didn’t know you were coming,” you say softly, brushing away your own tears. “I wasn’t expecting—”

Rhaenyra interrupts you with a shake of her head. “How could I not come?” she replies, her voice breaking. “The moment I heard that you’d given birth, I knew I had to be here. You’re my daughter, Y/N, and this—” she gestures to Killian, “—is my blood, my legacy. I would fly through fire and storm to be here for this.”

Cregan, who has been watching quietly, steps forward and bows his head respectfully. “Your Grace,” he greets, his tone low and respectful. “Winterfell is honored by your presence.”

Rhaenyra’s gaze softens as she looks at him, still holding Killian close. “Lord Stark,” she replies, inclining her head. “Winterfell is now part of my family as well, thanks to you and Y/N.” Her eyes flick back to Killian. “I see that my daughter has chosen well. You’ve given her a place where she can be strong and loved.”

Cregan’s eyes meet hers, and in them, there is a mutual understanding—one born of respect for the woman standing before him and the bond she shares with you. “I love her fiercely, Your Grace, as she deserves to be loved. And our son—your grandson—will know the strength of both his mother’s house and his father’s.”

Rhaenyra nods, satisfied by his words, but it’s clear she’s still entranced by the little life she cradles in her arms. “He is the future,” she murmurs. “Our future.” Her voice takes on a more somber tone as she adds, “The world is uncertain, and the storms may come, but Killian will be a light in that darkness. He will carry the strength of both ice and fire, of wolf and dragon.”

The lords and ladies of the North, who had stood back respectfully, begin to approach now, offering congratulations to the Queen, but always with their eyes drawn to the babe in her arms. The tension from earlier has melted away, replaced by a sense of unity. It’s as if Rhaenyra’s presence has bridged the gap between South and North, connecting them through shared blood and purpose.

Rhaenyra eventually returns Killian to you, but not without a lingering kiss to his forehead. Her eyes remain wet, and her voice trembles as she speaks. “I wish your father could see this,” she whispers, her voice tinged with both sorrow and joy. “He would be so proud of you, of the family you’ve built.”

You nod, feeling a pang of loss for Laenor, who never lived to see his daughter become a mother herself. “He’s watching over us, I’m sure of it,” you reply, your voice soft but resolute.

The night’s celebration shifts into something more intimate now, with people sharing stories of family, of home, and of the legacy that you are all building together. Rhaenyra remains by your side, her hand resting on your arm as she watches Killian sleep peacefully, content in the love surrounding him.

As the bonfires crackle and the Northern songs continue softly in the background, you find yourself overwhelmed by the strength of family, of tradition, and of the unbreakable bonds that have been forged this night. Winterfell, with its ancient stones and cold winds, has never felt warmer, never felt more like home.

[aroaceleovaldez]

of the problems i have with TSATS, one of the sillier ones is... those star wars opinions are so bad. Will is supposed to be a huge star wars nerd but they're discussing it like they all only have the most cursory knowledge of the franchise. i'm not even into star wars but I cannot accept this.

funniest and more sensible options would be:

Will's favorite character is someone intensely obscure, like Karre or someone like that, and he will psychoanalyze and critique you on whatever your answer is to which Star Wars character you think is hottest. This information is SO important to him.

Kayla's is Kylo Ren because she's basic as hell (she knows this and is fine with it, she thinks it's funny) but also because Will hates that answer SO much and she thrives on tormenting her brother. He keeps begging her to pick literally anyone else.

Austin insists his favorite character is Weird Al Yankovic in his The Saga Begins music video and that it Totally Counts As Canon Trust Me. Will tentatively concedes on that one.

Inspired by him, Kayla's secondary answer is literally anyone from Spaceballs. Will also tentatively concedes on that one, because it is funny.

Nico's should be either Kylo Ren, because he's only slowly learning about the franchise through osmosis and appreciates Kylo's edgy aesthetic (and Kayla is encouraging it cause the answer annoys Will), or specifically Anakin to continue the jokes about Nico having a type.

Bonus points if Will is making him watch the franchise in canonical chronological order because Nico is one of the few people who doesn't know about Darth Vader, so Nico is just genuinely like "Yeah no I love Anakin's vibes he's cool :)" and it is taking ALL of Will's self-restraint to not spoil it for him.

[the-drunk-game-master]

Once you finish watching Star Wars Acolyte, you can begin to watch the rest of Star Wars in chronological order!

You can start with tales of the jedi, but only episode 1, 2, and 3.

Then you can watch the real live action episode 1, Star Wars the Phantom Menace!

After that you can watch Tales of the Jedi Episode 4, but don't go any further until you watch...

Star Wars Attack of the Clones! The second live action movie! This is where the fun begins!

After that, you can watch the 2D animated Clone Wars cartoon, but just the first half.

Then you gotta watch the 3D CGI clone wars movie.

That leads into the 3D CGI animated series, the Clone Wars. Watch all 7 seasons of that, but pause it right before the final episode.

Then you can go back to the 2D animated Clone Wars, and watch the other half of that.

The final episode of Clone Wars (the CGI one) can be a little tricky, as it takes place at the same as the 3rd live action movie, Star Wars Revenge of the Sith. So if you want, you can watch that before Revenge of the Sith. Or after Revenge of the Sith. Or you can pause Revenge of the Sith when you hear the name "Darth Vader" and go watch the final Episode of Clone Wars, then to back to Revenge of the Sith.

After that, watch all 3 Seasons of Bad Batch.

Then you can watch the first 2 episodes of Tales of the Empire, skip the 3rd episode, and watch 4 5 and 6. The second one has Thrawn in if, he's cool.

Then you can watch Season 1 of Andor.

Oh and now you can finish tales of the Jedi.

If you wanna see some more live action stuff, you can watch Solo.

Then watch Star Wars Rebels. The first season can be a little janky but then the show goes hard. Especially when Thrawn shows up again.

Once you're done with Rebels, you can watch Cassian Andor's last hurrah in Star Wars Rogue One.

I think after all that, you should be good to watch the original Star Wars, a New Hope. Do be warned, the budget and quality drop drastically here.

Don't watch Star Wars Droids or the Star Wars Holiday special at all, unless you're reeeeeeeally high.

Then you can watch Star Wars, The Empire Strikes Back! This is the best one ever made... from a certain point of view.

Nothing seems to happen between these 2 movies, so go right ahead to Star Wars Return of the Jedi!

If anyone hands you a VHS tape with a teddy bear on the cover, and it isn't Return of the Jedi, throw that right in the trash.

After that you can start watching the best Star Wars Show, The Mandalorian!

Watch 2 seasons of that, but then watch Book of Boba Fett, or else you won't know what the fuck is going on when you watch season 3.

After the Mandalorian and the Mandalorian spin off that wants to be Dune, you can watch the Ahsoka series. That one is pretty fun too. It's got a fight scene in every episode, and Thrawn comes back!

Oh and I guess you can watch Tales of the Empire episode 3, if you want. You don't have to. I don't recommend it.

And that's all you need need to watch in preparation for the Mandalorian Vs Thrawn movie that we're all looking forward to! There's nothing else yet.

[cyber1conic]

I’m watching Star Wars for the first time. Where should I start?

Some people say that watching in release order is best and some say I should just watch it in chronological order and now I’m confused so what do you guys suggest?

[thisbelongsto-nohbodys]

Camilla: (hands Hunter a cup of cocoa) Sooo? What do you think of this series?

Hunter: Well, it's no Cosmic Frontiers, but it's really interesting! But, why'd you insist I start with parts four through six first?

Camilla: Wait for it...

Darth Vader: (on screen) No... I am your father!

Hunter: No. Way.

Camilla: That's why.

This is actually a decent answer in the debate of “release vs chronological”. If someone hasn’t seen the Star Wars series yet then eps 4-6 should b watched first and then 1-3 (Then 7 and stop there). Plus I think that Camila would b showing all of the Hexsquad these movies and not just Gus and Hunter, after all here’s a fresh group of people who have no idea through pop culture osmosis what the twist in Empire is.

[roughdaysandart]

I'm not sure but I wanna know if watching it a certain way made it better or worse for yall. May decide to undergo this pilgrimage within the year to pass the time and finally know what everyone is talking about aside from mando content lol.

[adidegmez]

I watched andor. I liked it.

Andor and Rogue One Spoilers...

Cassian is a good guy but he kills people. I understand why he killed on rogue one he just followed orders(he was being a good soldier😕)And the speech he gave to jyn when he explained they were following orders they were doing all the bad things for the rebellion, for th greater good.They knew what they were doing was wrong but they belived in the rebellion and did what they said to them. But i still dont like that he killed a lot of people, other than that, I liked Cassian.

Seeing people rise up for themselves, i like it. I really love rebellions. And Andor gave us rebellion in sw universe.

I think syril and deedra was useless i didnt like them.

Cassians promise in the last episode. Did he keep his promise? I know he died in rogue one but will there be a season 2. And that season will maybe tell us what did cassian did between the movie and season 1. Did he find his sister? maybe that season they can give some answers. well maybe they answered but i am new to this universe so i dont know if they did.

Luthen's converstation to Lonni. It is sad but true. Luthen is so cool. But he did so many bad things to save the days he will never see. And some good people became what they swore to destroy and Luthen is one of those people.

Prison scenes were good when they got out i was so happy. but Kino didnt come with cassian and melshi what happend to him after that?

Nemik's manifesto did Cassian read it? so amny questions ı hope there will be a season 2.

Maarva's funeral was good to. Show's effects were so good but in storytelling there were something that not right or there should be more to it.

This article was very messy but I sent it without editing. Because while I was writing this article, I finished Star Wars 5. I finished Rogue One and Star Wars 4 yesterday. There are things I need to write about them before I forget.

I have one last question, mon mathma was lider of the rebellion in rebels but in andor she is not yet. I was watching Star Wars chronologically and according to the order I watched rebels was before andor. does it take place simultaneously, like the clone wars and Star Wars 3?

In the end i liked the show and it's tone. i'll probably start writing about rogue one tomorrow .

[lightwise]

Ahsoka Episode 1 Rant/Spoilers

This is a pretty dramatic rant, I don't normally express my feelings this vehemently on here, so please don't take this overly seriously. But I had to get this out 🫣

SPOILERS BELOW THE CUT! DO NOT SCROLL IF YOU HAVE NOT WATCHED THE EPISODE YET! YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED!

*Deep breath* I am NOT OKAY with Star Wars making it normal now for people, humans, to survive a lightsaber stab to the stomach/gut/torso area. It completely undermines Qui Gon’s death which is what sets in motion the entire freaking saga. I guess this will be me coming out as the Phantom Menace lover as I am, but Qui-Gon and TPM seriously have such a special place in my heart, and the importance of its place as the chronological beginning of the movie saga, the importance of Qui-Gon's death specifically in the lives of Obi-Wan, Anakin, Maul, and therefore the fate of the rest of the galaxy, cannot be overstated. Reva surviving the same kind of blow, Sabine surviving the same kind of blow (yes I know hers was a little to the right, but it's still the same concept), while it doesn't lessen Qui-Gon's sacrifice, just makes it all look rather silly.

(Not to mention Satine dying by the same kind of stroke either. Not to mention the effects that had on the narrative and important characters either.)

I accepted it with the Grand Inquisitor in Kenobi bc A. We knew he survived already, and B. He was a different species with different anatomy. I also somewhat begrudgingly accepted it with Reva later, because its effects on her were not neglected, and for whatever reason it worked for the plot and made the stakes feel higher. Still wish it had been some other sort of injury that made us think she might die, but I was willing to overlook it.

But again? Again with the making lightsaber stabs a paltry affair that have no consequences? When it was obvious both at the beginning (Phantom Menace) and end (Force Awakens) that people should NOT BE ABLE TO SURVIVE THAT. Heck, Baylon uses the same move in the beginning of the episode and it is clearly stated the Captain he uses it on is dead immediately! But Sabine just walks around casually a day or two later? Showing very little need for recovery and it all seeming like "just a flesh wound", cauterization or not? What the hell Dave????

I'm not saying I wanted Reva or Sabine to die. I'm saying please for the love of all things Star Wars pick a different body part to wound/end a fight with!! That's all I'm asking *sobs*

The ONLY good thing about that kind of move, is that stabbing and slashing moves are more in line with how a lightsaber type weapon would be used in real life/the historical weapons they are based on, rather than the typical parry/block moves we see in lightsaber fights. But, I still don't think this is the way to use it.

*okay, rant over. Thanks for letting me get that out ya'll*

[lo0lo0land]

DISCLAIMER!!

I may not be able to watch some of them, I'll have to check

[novaursa]

The Last Dance

- Summary: The Dance of the Dragons is over. You and Aegon finally find peace.

- Paring: twin!sister reader/Aegon II Targaryen

- Note: reader is referred to as Y/N, is twin sister and wife to Aegon II, and is bonded with dragon called Starfyre. These events happen right after The Searing Flame. To read all of the chapters in chronological order, or more of my works, visit my blog. The list is pinned to the top.

- Rating: Mature 16+

- Word count: 5 119

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff

- A/N: This is the chapter that finalizes this series. That being said, there will be more twin!reader/Aegon II stories to fill the gaps.

The air is filled with the scent of salt and smoke as you stand on the balcony of Dragonstone, the sea churning below in restless waves. The horizon is cast in hues of deep purple and amber as dusk sets in, but your attention is wholly on the sky, where two golden streaks dart through the twilight. You feel Aegon’s presence beside you, a warmth against the cool stone at your back. His scarred arm is under your hand, his skin rough and uneven beneath your touch, a harsh reminder of Rook’s Rest and the countless betrayals that led you here.

Yet there’s still strength in him, a burning defiance that never faded even after all the wounds. You rest your head on his shoulder, feeling the tension in his muscles, the way he seems to hold his breath as he watches Sunfyre and Starfyre circle above. It’s not just the raw power of your dragons that grips him—no, this is something more primal. It's the joy of seeing them together again, as they were always meant to be: siblings, mates, war-dragons forged in the heat of fire and vengeance.

“There,” Aegon murmurs, his voice low, strained. He points to a shadow in the clouds—Grey Ghost. The wild dragon had stayed hidden for so long, slipping through the cracks of Dragonstone’s defenses, but not tonight. Sunfyre and Starfyre had scented him out, and now there would be no escape.

You tighten your grip on Aegon’s arm, feeling the thrill of it, a dark satisfaction blooming in your chest. The shadow resolves into a shape—a dirty, scarred creature with wings tattered from battles long lost. Grey Ghost is no match for your dragons, but he’s quick, darting between clouds, trying to outmaneuver the gleaming pair that pursue him.

Starfyre leads the chase, her silvery form a flash of brilliance in the twilight, her scales glimmering like starlight against the darkening sky. The alabaster undershine of her wings catches the last of the sun’s rays as she twists and turns, a deadly dance that lures Grey Ghost into false confidence. Her movements are elegant, fluid—every beat of her wings purposeful, calculated. The Star Dame, as you’ve come to call her in the intimacy of your thoughts, is a creature born of night and light, her presence both ethereal and deadly.

Sunfyre is close behind her, a shimmering blaze of gold that seems almost unnatural in its brilliance. The awkward bend in his healed wing does nothing to diminish his ferocity—if anything, it makes him all the more terrifying, a creature that defies the laws of nature, a king among dragons that should have been crippled but refused to be. His roar echoes across the sky, a sound of pure fury that reverberates through your chest, making your heart race.

“They hunt as one,” you whisper, awe lacing your words. You lift your head from Aegon’s shoulder to look up at him, catching the gleam of pride in his eyes. “It’s beautiful.”

Aegon’s mouth curves into a small, crooked smile, a hint of the man he was before the war marred him. “Beautiful, yes. But more than that—vengeance.” He says the last word with a bitterness that lingers in the air. Sunfyre and Starfyre had been denied their chance to fight side by side for too long, much like the two of you. But now, the skies belong to them again, as they should.

You don’t respond, letting the sight before you speak for itself. Starfyre suddenly plummets, diving at a steep angle that seems reckless until Grey Ghost veers, startled by her speed. It’s then that Sunfyre strikes, a burst of flame searing the air as he barrels into Grey Ghost from above, jaws snapping at the smaller dragon’s neck. Grey Ghost shrieks, a sound full of desperation as he tries to shake free, but Sunfyre holds on, his talons digging deep into flesh.

Starfyre swoops in, her silvery wings flaring as she joins the fray, her jaws clamping down on one of Grey Ghost’s wings. You watch as she tears through it with merciless precision, ripping membrane and bone with a single twist of her head. Blood sprays across the sky, dark and ominous, and Grey Ghost’s struggles grow frantic, but they’re futile. Starfyre and Sunfyre tear into him together, a dance of coordinated destruction that speaks of deep, intrinsic connection.

“Together, they’re unstoppable,” you breathe, unable to tear your gaze away. You feel Aegon’s fingers intertwine with yours, his grip tight and possessive. He’s watching them too, but you know he’s seeing more than just dragons tearing apart a weaker foe—he’s seeing the future, the strength you still hold, the power you’ll wield together to take back what was stolen from you.

When Grey Ghost finally falls, his body torn and mangled, he drops like a stone into the sea below. You both watch in silence as the waves claim him, dragging him under until he’s nothing more than a memory.

Starfyre and Sunfyre wheel in the air, circling each other before flying back towards the keep. The bond between them is palpable, a mirror of your own with Aegon. Sunfyre’s awkward wingbeat matches Aegon’s own struggles, while Starfyre’s radiant strength reflects the resilience you’ve both clung to, even in the face of loss. The dragons’ victory is your victory, and as they draw closer, you feel a sense of unity, of destiny.

Aegon turns to you then, his scarred face shadowed but his eyes burning with resolve. “We will reclaim what is ours, Y/N,” he says, his voice a quiet promise. “With our dragons, with our strength—we will not be broken.”

You meet his gaze, and there’s a fierce pride in your chest as you nod. “We are not broken, Aegon,” you reply softly, but with steel in your tone. “We are fire and blood.”

As the night closes in, the sky dark and filled with stars, you stand together in silence, hand in hand. Sunfyre and Starfyre land on the courtyard below, their golden and silver scales gleaming even in the dim light. They are kings and queens among dragons, just as you and Aegon are meant to be.

And as long as they soar, so will you.

The dread in the throne room is thick enough to choke on as you stand beside Aegon, your hand resting lightly on Daena’s shoulder while Baelon clutches the edge of your gown. The echo of footsteps and clinking chains resound through the stone chamber as Alfred Broome and his men drag the remnants of Rhaenyra’s forces into the hall. They are bruised, bloodied, and defeated—a pale reflection of the power Rhaenyra once held. Among them, her young son Aegon clings to her, his eyes wide with fear as he takes in the fearsome sight of the dragons looming in the distance outside, their golden and silver forms visible through the open arches.

Sunfyre and Starfyre wait like harbingers of death, gleaming in the twilight.

You feel Aegon’s arm tense beside you, a flicker of pain passing through him from his old wounds. But there’s more than just physical pain here—there’s a deep, simmering rage that’s been brewing since the moment Blood and Cheese ripped your family apart. You and Aegon have been waiting for this moment, dreaming of it in your darkest hours. And now, it’s finally here.

Rhaenyra is forced to her knees before you, her once-proud visage a mask of defiance even in chains. She looks older than you remember, her face gaunt and hollow, but her eyes still blaze with the stubborn arrogance that led her here. Her remaining Queensguard lie dead, slain by your forces as they tried to resist one last time. There is no one left to protect her.

You meet her gaze with cold satisfaction, leaning forward slightly as you speak, your voice sharp as a blade. “We have long awaited this moment, Rhaenyra. Ever since you sent those assassins to kill our sons—two innocent boys, slaughtered because of your ambition.”

Rhaenyra’s lips tremble, but she doesn’t back down. “My sons died as well, Y/N,” she retorts, her voice shaking with fury. “Jace, Luke, Viserys… you cannot know that pain.”

“You dare to compare?” Aegon’s voice cuts through the air like the crack of a whip, silencing her. He steps forward, the limp from his injury barely noticeable as his anger gives him strength. “This war began because you could never let go of our father’s lies. He promised you the throne, and you clung to that entitlement like a drowning woman clutches driftwood.”

Rhaenyra opens her mouth to speak, but Aegon doesn’t let her. “You speak of your lost sons as if their deaths were a justification for your madness, but it was your own hubris that led them to the grave. If you had shown even a hint of reason, none of this would have happened. Y/N and I never wanted the crown. We only wanted to love each other and grow old with our children. But the crown was pushed onto us—pushed by your ambition and vanity.”

Your heart twists as you think of the peaceful life you and Aegon could have had, far from the bloodshed, if only Rhaenyra had accepted the reality of your father’s death that relinquished her claims. But that was never an option for her, was it? Pride, ambition, and greed had consumed her until there was nothing left but this hollow shell of a queen.

Rhaenyra’s defiance cracks then, her eyes filling with desperation. “Please, Aegon—Y/N—my son—”

But Aegon’s gaze hardens. “It’s too late for pleas, Rhaenyra. Your choices have brought us to this point, and now they will swallow us all. Even your precious children.”

You see the flicker of fear in her eyes, the realization that there will be no mercy here. This is no place for mercy. This is retribution.

With a nod from Aegon, the great doors are opened, and Sunfyre’s golden form stalks into the throne room, his scales gleaming like molten gold in the torchlight. His eyes are locked on Rhaenyra, filled with a burning hunger that reflects the rage in Aegon’s heart. Starfyre follows him, her silvery wings brushing the stone walls as she moves with lethal grace, her pale blue undershine glowing like moonlight on water.

Rhaenyra tries to scramble back, pulling her son behind her, but she is chained, her movements futile. “No… please… not like this…”

The lords and ladies captured alongside her begin to cry out in terror as they realize what’s about to happen, but their voices are drowned out by the low, rumbling growl from Sunfyre. Aegon takes a step forward, his voice cold and resolute as he gives the command that seals his half-sister’s fate. “Dracarys.”

Sunfyre’s roar is deafening as flames erupt from his maw, engulfing Rhaenyra in a searing blaze. Her screams are short-lived, drowned in a cacophony of dragonfire and crackling flesh. Starfyre joins in, her breath cold and silver, mixing with Sunfyre’s golden flames in a mesmerizing yet horrifying display of raw power.

The smell of burning flesh and melting metal fills the air as the dragons tear into what remains of Rhaenyra, their jaws snapping and rending flesh. The lords and ladies bound beside her wail in despair, some of them collapsing to the floor as they are forced to watch the gruesome feast. Elinda Massey’s shrieks are especially piercing as she claws at her own eyes, unable to bear the sight.

But it isn’t over. Not yet.

Young Aegon, Rhaenyra’s last remaining son, stands paralyzed with terror, his small body trembling as he stares up at the dragons. You feel a pang of pity—he’s just a child, after all—but that pity is fleeting. This is the price of war, of ambition that knows no bounds. There can be no loose ends, no heirs to continue the cycle of bloodshed.

You turn your gaze away as Aegon gestures for the guards to push the boy toward the dragons. Sunfyre sniffs him, his nostrils flaring, but it’s Starfyre who moves first. She lowers her great head, her eyes glinting as she opens her jaws wide and snaps them shut around the child in one swift motion. There is no scream this time—just silence as she swallows him whole.

A hush falls over the throne room, broken only by the crackling of fire and the quiet sobbing of those left alive. Aegon turns to you, his expression unreadable, but you see the weariness in his eyes, the weight of everything that’s passed. “It’s done,” he says softly, and you feel the words settle like stones in your chest.

“Yes,” you whisper, your voice distant, “it’s done.”

The war may not be over, but this chapter has ended in blood and flame. You can only hope that, when the ashes settle, there will be something left to rebuild. Something more than this endless cycle of death.

But for now, all you can do is hold your children close and hope that the fire will fade, that peace will come in its wake—even if that peace is a fragile dream, trembling on the edge of a knife.

The sun is low in the sky as your carriage finally creaks to a halt outside the Red Keep. The city is cloaked in uneasy silence—no cheers greet your return, no banners wave in celebration. King’s Landing feels hollow, as if the ghosts of those lost in the war still linger in its streets. You step out first, the weight of the crown heavy on your brow. Aegon follows, his limp more pronounced after the long journey, yet he holds his head high, his expression a mask of stoic resolve. Your children, Daena and Baelon, cling close to you, their wide eyes taking in the somber scene as they disembark from the carriage.

Ahead of you, standing at the base of the steps leading up to the Red Keep, is your mother, Queen Alicent, her face drawn with lines of sorrow and weariness. Beside her is Helaena, her once-luminous eyes now dulled by grief and loss. They are the last remnants of your family, the survivors of a war that has cost you all more than you could have imagined.

Alicent's breath hitches when she sees you, her eyes scanning you and Aegon as if needing to assure herself that you are truly there, alive and whole. Tears glisten in her eyes, and she covers her mouth with trembling fingers as her composure shatters. “My children,” she whispers, and it is as though the weight of years collapses in those words—years of fear, of war, of loss. She hurries forward, her regal bearing breaking into a desperate, motherly rush as she throws her arms around you both, clutching you as if afraid you might vanish like so many others.

“Oh, my children,” she sobs, her voice cracking with emotion. “You’ve returned to me.”

Aegon wraps his arm around her, his scarred hand shaking as he holds his mother close. “We have, Mother,” he says softly, though there’s a hollowness to his tone. The joy that might have been there is tainted by the ghosts of those who aren’t here to share this moment. “But we return to ashes.”

Alicent pulls back slightly, looking at the both of you with tear-streaked cheeks. “I prayed for this day—prayed every night that you would survive, that you would come back to us.” Her eyes flit to the children—her grandchildren—and fresh tears spill over. “But at what cost? Daeron, Aemond—” Her voice breaks entirely, and she covers her face, unable to continue.

Aegon’s jaw tightens. You see the storm of guilt and grief flash across his features as he looks away, unable to meet her gaze. You reach out and grasp Alicent’s hand, squeezing it tightly as you fight to hold back your own tears. “We all bear the weight of those losses,” you say quietly. “But we are here now, and we are together. We must hold on to that, for their sake.” You glance down at Daena and Baelon, who watch their grandmother with wide eyes, not fully understanding the depth of the grief surrounding them.

Helaena, who has been standing silently, finally steps forward. Her movements are slow, almost ghostly, as if she is a shadow of the woman she once was. Her gaze lingers on Aegon for a long moment, searching his eyes, before drifting to you. “The dreams never lie,” she murmurs, her voice distant and laced with sorrow. “They all fade, in fire and blood.” Her words are eerie, a chilling echo of all that has transpired, but they carry a truth that cuts deep. Helaena’s prophecies have always carried an edge of tragedy, and now, you see the weight of them fully realized in her vacant stare.

Aegon steps toward her, gently taking her hands in his. “We’re still here, Helaena,” he says softly, though there is a break in his voice. “You, Y/N, me, Mother—we’re still here. We will rebuild, for their memory.”

She nods slowly, but you see no hope in her eyes, only resignation. “They dance no more,” she whispers, looking past you as if seeing something far beyond the physical realm.

Alicent wipes at her tears, her hands shaking as she does so. “Come inside, all of you,” she says, her voice thick with emotion. “You need rest, and there’s much to discuss. But first, let us be together as a family.”

You nod, though the word “family” feels strange on your tongue now. So much of it has been torn away—brothers, sisters, sons. Yet, you follow Alicent and Helaena up the steps, Aegon at your side, your children between you. Inside the Red Keep, the warmth of the hearth contrasts sharply with the chill that clings to your soul. The familiar halls seem both comforting and haunted, each shadow hiding memories of the past.

Alicent leads you to the council chamber, where a small, intimate table has been set, not for matters of state, but for a quiet meal. Servants flit about with anxious glances, aware of the tragedy that hangs in the air like a storm cloud. You all sit, and for a long moment, no one speaks. The silence is heavy, broken only by the crackle of the fire.

Aegon is the one who finally breaks it, lifting his cup. “To those we’ve lost,” he says, his voice hoarse, barely more than a whisper. “And to those who still remain.”

You lift your own cup, feeling the burn of unshed tears behind your eyes. “To those who remain,” you echo, and the words are a fragile hope, a thread of unity in a world torn apart by fire and blood.

As you drink, you feel a sense of finality settling over the room. The war is over. The Dance has ended. But you know, deep down, that the scars it has left—on your family, on your kingdom, on your very soul—will never truly heal.

The chamber is dimly lit by the soft glow of a few scattered candles, their flickering light casting something akin to ghots long forgotten on the walls. The room is familiar, yet it feels almost foreign after all the horrors you’ve endured—so much time lost to war and death, to bitterness and grief. But now, for the first time in what feels like ages, you’re alone with Aegon, away from the eyes of lords and courtiers, away from the weight of the crown and the ghosts of the past.

The door clicks shut behind you, sealing you both within the warmth of the chamber. Aegon pauses by the threshold, his hand still resting on the handle as he takes a deep breath, as if he’s trying to steady himself, to remember that he’s home. You watch him in the flickering candlelight, the lines of his face etched deeper from the burdens he’s carried, but he’s still the man you fell in love with, still the boy who smiled at you with mischief in his eyes.

He looks at you then, and the tension that’s been holding him rigid melts away. His gaze softens, filled with a longing that nearly breaks you. Without a word, he crosses the room and pulls you into his arms, burying his face in your hair as if he needs to feel you, to know you’re truly there. You wrap your arms around him, holding him tight, and for a moment, neither of you speak—there are no words for the relief, the overwhelming need to be close after so much time apart.

“I’ve missed this,” he murmurs into your hair, his voice rough and choked with emotion. “I’ve missed you. So much.”

You tilt your head back, meeting his gaze. His eyes are shadowed with pain and fatigue, but there’s a warmth there too, a flicker of the love that has always burned between you. “I never let myself forget,” you whisper, reaching up to trace the scar on his cheek, a mark from Rook’s Rest that he wears like a badge of survival. “Even in the darkest moments, I held onto us. I held onto you.”

Aegon’s hand comes up to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing away a tear that slips free. “I don’t know how we did it,” he admits, his voice cracking. “But we’re here. We’ve made it through everything they threw at us, every nightmare. You were the light that kept me going, Y/N. You always have been.”

His words are like a balm to the ache in your heart, the wounds left by loss and betrayal. You lean into his touch, savoring the warmth of his palm against your skin, the familiarity of it. “We’ve lost so much,” you say softly, your voice trembling as memories of those you loved flash through your mind. “But we still have each other. As long as we have that, we can rebuild.”

Aegon’s lips quirk into a faint smile, though it’s tinged with sorrow. “You’re right. We still have each other. And I swear to you, Y/N, I’ll never let you go again. Never. We’ve been torn apart too many times, but that ends now. No more battles, no more wars. Just us.”

He bends down then, his forehead resting against yours as his hands cradle your face. “Promise me, Y/N,” he whispers, his breath warm against your lips. “Promise me we won’t let anything—or anyone—come between us ever again.”

You close the distance between you, capturing his lips in a kiss that’s tender but laced with a desperation that speaks of all the pain, the longing, the fear of losing one another. His hands slide to your waist, pulling you flush against him as he deepens the kiss, pouring everything he feels into it—his love, his regret, his need.

When you finally pull away, you’re both breathless, your heart pounding in your chest. “I promise,” you whisper against his lips. “No matter what comes, we face it as one. I won’t let you go either, Aegon. Not ever.”

The shadows in his eyes soften, replaced by a rare glimmer of peace as he rests his forehead against yours again. “Together, then. Always.”

The warmth between you grows as he slowly guides you toward the bed, the softness of the mattress beneath you a welcome comfort after all the cold, hard battles you’ve faced. He lays beside you, pulling you into his arms so that your bodies are entwined, your head resting against his chest as you listen to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. His fingers trail lazily through your hair, a touch that’s both soothing and intimate, grounding you in this moment.

You turn slightly in his embrace, pressing a kiss to the scarred skin of his chest, a reminder of how close you came to losing him. “You’re mine,” you murmur softly, your voice thick with emotion. “And I’m yours. No one will ever tear us apart again.”

His grip tightens around you, as if the very thought of losing you is unbearable. “I’ll spend the rest of my days proving that, Y/N,” he vows, his voice low and filled with a fierce protectiveness. “I’ll give you the peace we’ve been denied. We’ll raise our children, grow old together, just as we always dreamed.”

In the quiet of your shared chambers, there’s no need for crowns or titles, no need for anything but each other. The world outside is a distant memory as you close your eyes, feeling the steady rise and fall of his chest beneath your cheek, the warmth of his embrace wrapping around you like a protective shield. You let yourself drift in that moment, in the certainty that, no matter what comes, you and Aegon are what remains.

For now, there’s only peace, the kind you’ve fought so hard to find. And in the comfort of each other’s arms, you know that no matter how many battles you’ve fought, the war for your love is one you’ve already won.

From this moment, the histories diverge depending on which account one prefers to trust: the sober record of Grand Maester Orwyle, the poetic tales of Septon Eustace, or the salacious rumors spread by the fool Mushroom. Yet all agree on the most important details: the years following the Dance of the Dragons were marked not by further bloodshed, but by an unexpected peace.

The Golden Restoration

The reign of King Aegon II and Queen Y/N saw a return to stability in the realm, albeit built on a foundation of ash and charred bones. The devastation left by the war was undeniable, yet it was under their rule that the rebuilding of King's Landing began. With Dowager Queen Alicent and Princess Helaena ever at their sides, the royal family focused on mending what was broken, both in the capital and within their own hearts.

Many lords whispered that it was Y/N, the Silver Queen, who held the true power in those years. Aegon, scarred both inside and out by the horrors of the Dance, found solace and strength in his wife, who had proven herself his equal in fire and resolve. Together, they were inseparable. It was said that not a single important decision was made without their mutual consent, and that in private moments, they ruled as one, much like Sunfyre and Starfyre—mates in both life and flame.

Their children, Princess Daena and Prince Baelon, grew strong and healthy under the care of their parents and grandmother, Alicent. The two were doted upon, not merely as heirs but as symbols of the future—unbroken despite the tragedy that had marked their early years. As time passed, the bond between Daena and Baelon deepened, mirroring that of their parents. It was said that they were closer than most siblings, so close that when they were of age, they wed in the tradition of House Targaryen, cementing their bloodline and continuing the ancient customs of their house.

The Brood of Sunfyre and Starfyre

In the year 137 AC, three eggs were laid in the royal dragonpit—eggs said to be the offspring of Sunfyre and Starfyre, the twin flames that had seared Rhaenyra Targaryen from the earth. Two of these eggs hatched, producing dragons of extraordinary beauty: one with scales of pale gold streaked with silver, and the other shimmering with blue-tinged starlight. These dragons were gifted to Daena and Baelon on their wedding day, marking the start of a new generation of dragonlords, free from the taint of the Dance.

Yet even in this time of renewal, darkness lingered in the shadows. Helaena never recovered fully from the loss of her own children and her brother-husband, Aemond. She remained a distant figure, often lost in her dreams and visions. Some say she foresaw her own death, whispering of “faded light” and “withered roses” in her last days. When she passed away in her sleep in 139 AC, it was whispered by Mushroom that she had seen a final vision: a land where the dragons had turned to dust, and no kings ruled but the winds.

Dowager Queen Alicent outlived her daughter by a scant two years. Her grief had aged her beyond her years, and she spent her final days in prayer, seeking forgiveness for the bloodshed her ambitions had caused. In her final hours, she clutched the hands of Aegon and Y/N, begging them to remember the lesson learned in blood: that the pursuit of power, when unchecked, only breeds ruin. It was said that Y/N, ever compassionate, was the one who comforted Alicent in her last breath, whispering that peace had been found at last.

The Passing of the Dragon-King and Queen

The final years of Aegon and Y/N’s reign were marked by a quiet contentment. They ruled justly, often seen together in council or riding their dragons above the skies of King's Landing. The scars of war never fully faded, but together they created a realm that prospered. Yet even the most enduring fires must one day burn out.

In the year 151 AC, King Aegon II and Queen Y/N were found dead in their shared chambers, lying in each other's arms as if asleep. Some claim they had simply grown weary, their bodies giving out after years of bearing the weight of the crown. Others, more fanciful in their tales, whisper that they passed together in a moment of shared peace, their hearts giving out at the exact same instant. Mushroom claims that a vial of poison was found beside their bed, suggesting they chose to leave the world together, unwilling to face a life without the other.

When their bodies were discovered, Sunfyre and Starfyre howled in mourning, their roars shaking the very walls of the Red Keep. The dragons, who had never been separated, circled the skies together before landing side by side in the dragonpit, refusing to be parted. In a rare display of affection between beasts, they nuzzled one another and remained in that position until the end of their days.

The bodies of Aegon and Y/N were burned together on a single pyre, their ashes mingling in a final union. Their reign was remembered as the “Golden Twilight,” a time when, for a brief, shining moment, the Targaryens had found peace. But even in this, the seeds of future strife were sown—two children, two dragons, and the legacy of fire and blood that would never truly be quenched.

Thus ended the tale of King Aegon II and Queen Y/N, the last Targaryens to die in each other's arms, bound in life and in death by the fires they had endured and the love they refused to surrender.

[vampryoteuthis]

Hey do you have any akatsuki stories you’d recommend? Or just enstars stories in general? I’m still new to the game but I’d like to understand the characters more :3

I’m super flattered you’d ask me!! My reputation as the Akatsuki Guy continues to precede me huh… I also want to say I have a friend who is working on an akatsuki story masterlist right now, which will go into more depth than I might.

well! this got much longer than i expected! using the read more feature to spare all of you.

In general, for any era of enstars stories, I’d recommend switching between event stories and gacha stories, especially for any reminisce stories. The reminisce stories have some of the best plot driven writing in enstars, but almost all of them deal with heavy topics and are pretty darn long (Meteor Impact is currently the longest enstars story outside of the SS finals at 54 chapters!). This goes for any unit that’s from (!) era.

Also, when I say (!) era and (!!) era, I’m referring to the game the story is from. Anything from (!) era is from Ensemble Stars Basic, and anything from (!!) era is from Ensemble Stars Music. The timeline of Basic takes place a year prior to Music, and the units Alkaloid and Crazy:B are not present in any Basic stories (you probably already knew that but it never hurts to overexplain!) As for the aforementioned reminisce stories, as they’d have you believe, these stories take place prior to the events of Basic by a year. All of these stories, with the exception of Obbligato, were written during Basic’s game run. These are the stories that The War(tm) (which you may have heard of) takes place in.

ok now for the actual story recommendations… all of the (!) era stories can be found on the Wayback Machine (they used to be on the enstars wikia until they were taken off in August 2021), and (!!) era stories may be fan translated, but all will be officially translated in the English app (someday).

Please keep in mind these are all just recommendations! Read whatever you’d like at whatever pace.

For (!) era, I recommend reading the main story first. Akatsuki is pretty relevant in it, and it gives you a pretty good idea of their character at the start of the game. The main story is also covered in the anime, but it doesn’t give the most comprehensive takes on some characters. Think of it as watching an abridged movie version of a book.

After that, I recommend reading the event story Tanabata, which is a pretty early on (chronologically) story featuring both akatsuki and ra*bits, then read the event story Quarrel Festival which is an event story I’ve read at least five times at this point, and features akatsuki and fine. These are both pretty good stories for understanding akatsuki after the events of the main story (these stories take place in the summer, while the main story takes place in the spring).

After that I really really recommend reading the Underdoctor gacha story because it’s very cute and fun and you probably need a break after Quarrel Festival. Then you should read the Hanafuda gacha story and the Cats and Camelia event story. These are both pretty light reads too which is nice!

Ok did you have fun reading light and easy to understand content? Because the next couple stories will not be that in the slightest. Repayfes is super important, because it’s (chronologically) the last story before (!!)’s story. Akatsuki is infamously not the main characters of this story - It’s primarily an UNDEAD and 2wink focused story. Nevertheless, it’s still important to read, especially for reading Crossroad, which is what DEADMANZ (the band that’s mentioned in Repayment Fes) is from. I could get a phd on this story it drives me absolutely crazy. Really good story for all 3 akatsukis but it primarily features Keito and Kuro. After that, buckle in, we’re reading Meteor Impact. This is like the big bad enstars story everyone talks about that changed their lives. It’s good, yes, but I’m begging you, dear reader, please read it for akatsuki’s moments too, and not just Chiaki and Kanata - they’re the featured 5 stars, yes, but this is an incredibly important story for akatsuki as well, not just ryuseitai and MaM.

Speaking of MaM I hope you like Madara because I’m making you read Shinsengumi next. Long time friends of mine know how much I love my little darling boy Madara Mikejima so you bet I love this story. It’s also a really good Kuro story so you bet I love it even more. Epic win. This story is not a reminisce story, so you’re finally free. It’s kinda heavy content wise Kuro talks about his mom and Madara does some mind game bullshit with multiple people but I HIGHLY recommend this one. Trust me

There’s also a song that goes with this one!

Ok and last but not least for (!) event stories, I recommend the Cinderella event. This one is a pretty fun read compared to whatever the hell Shinsengumi is. Kuro breaks a window. Keito wears a dress. Stellar content. I also think you should read the Four Beasts of Fistfighting gacha because it’s very important to understanding the Dragon King B1 which - wow! - is first mentioned in the Main Story! It’s like one big circle huh? Crazy

These aren’t every single akatsuki story, as well! Feel free to pick and choose gacha stories that feature any of the akatsuki members in them. I have some personal favorites, but they don’t really add any Lore context you’d be missing. Comic World and Onigashima are two of my favorites of these.

Ok that’s it for (!) content! This is already waaaay way too long so I’m so sorry.

For (!!) content, I recommend first reading the Music Main Story. Akatsuki isn’t a main character in this one, but they do have some important updates on what each character is up to and how akatsuki is doing as a unit after Kuro + Keito have graduated.

Now, this is where some stuff gets hard. Every story in the Japanese version of Enstars Music will eventually be translated, but engstars is about two years behind, meaning this post may be outdated soon! If there’s a story on here that looks cool and you don’t see it on engstars, know it’ll be there eventually! You can also look for fan translations online. Many translators do not like their translations being included in master lists, so I will not be linking to any direct translations in this post out of respect.

My number one recommendation for a music akatsuki story is Blade and Fist (also known as Unification by Force). It’s currently available to read on the English version, as it was Kuro’s center event. If you’re not an akatsuki fan after reading the over a dozen stories I suggested, this is gonna do it for you. It’s such a good story I highly highly highly recommend it!

I also recommend Spy the Mission (no souma in this one but keito + kuro are very prominent in it) and Vagabond (all of akatsuki is in this), for stories currently out in engstars. It also never hurts to browse idol stories of the three - the idol stories tend to be a lot more lighthearted and less plot relevant, and have the idols interacting with each other! Very very cute and fun. I recommend this for any idols you like, honestly!

Well, you made it. You read my entire word soup about akatsuki stories. Congrats. Did I mention it took doctors 20 years to realize I was autistic.

If you have any other questions please ask me!! Keep in mind this isn’t a comprehensive list at all - All of akatsuki have tons of other stories they’re in, these are just some of the most “important” ones!

have a wonderful night my dear sweet anonymous asker

[boo-cool-robot]

Everything I Watched This Year

I have watched the most movies this year of my life, which is still so few that I can fit them all into one tumblr post, so here they are in approximately chronological order (along with TV shows). I almost exclusively watch visual media with other people, and they're often the ones picking. Favorites get an asterisk (*), and this does not include rewatches.

*Fallen Angels (Wong Kar-Wai): Five loosely connected lonely people chase imagined versions of each other around the Hong Kong nightscape. I didn't go into a plotless arthouse film expecting it to be extremely funny, but it is. He Zhiwu (my new tumblr icon!) deserves to be up there among the deranged autistic blorbos of all time.

What We Do in the Shadows (Showrun by Paul Simms and Stefani Robinson) [First half of S4]: If you're on tumblr you probably know the premise already. I was disappointed that after S3, which felt like a build to huge shifts in the characters and status quo, S4 felt like a walkback. Don't remember much else about it other than crying laughing at the sequence where they try to get baby Colin Robinson into private school.

Brokeback Mountain (Ang Lee): Everyone knows what this movie is already. It's well-made and solid, but it wasn't anything that exciting for me. I expected it to be more striking. Love the 70s home production design in that one scene though, and that kiss truly is good.

*Velvet Goldmine (Todd Haynes): A reporter tracks down the truth of a rock star gay affair that sparked his own queer coming of age. Dreamy, gorgeous, and I could not describe the plot scene to scene if you paid me. Just a really lovely film to experience for me, someone who had latent and unnamed transgay feelings as a teenager about the concept of "emo boys kissing."

Phantom of the Paradise (Brian De Palma): Phantom of the Opera-inspired drama about a songwriter getting revenge on the predatory producer that ruined his life. Total delight of a campy melodrama.

Kamikaze Girls (Tetsuya Nakashima): A delinquent and fashion-obsessed scam artist strike up a lesbian-tinged unlikely friendship. This movie is bananas. Way more stylistically experimental than I'd expected--there's a sequence of the protagonist's birth, people just float offscreen sometimes, the townspeople constantly turn to the camera and advertise for the megamart they buy all their clothes from, etc. A really really surprisingly fun watch.

*Mobile Suit Gundam: The Witch from Mercury (Hiroshi Kobayashi and Ryō Andō) [First 6 episodes only]: Optimistic young pilot of a war machine that she may have an illegal psionic connection with goes to space high school and is promptly drawn into political plotting via accidentally getting gay engaged to a corporate heiress. Highly enjoyed the parts of it I saw - great action sequences, fun character drama, and just enough political substance. Not as weird as Utena, which it's inspired by, but can be brutal where necessary. I should watch more!

*In the Mood for Love (Wong Kar Wai): Two Shanghainese emigrants in Hong Kong discover their spouses are cheating and embark on a tragic affair of their own. God, this movie deserves every bit of praise it gets. I gasped out loud multiple times at the gorgeousness of shot compositions. Top notch acting, gorgeous colors. This tends to be a movie pitched as being about a repressed love affair, but it's also a movie about the positionality about being middle class colonial subjects and the relationships they have with the world. This gave me so much to chew on after I watched it.

Happy Together (Wong Kar-Wai): Two Hong Kong expats living in Argentina have a toxic gay relationship trapped in a tiny apartment. This one felt very opaque to me, and it is allegedly an allegory for Hong Kong being returned to Chinese rule after British colonialism, which I absolutely do not have enough background to really get. Wong is a great director though, and I constantly think about the sequence of the main character seeing the abusive ex walk into the club, beat while he finishes his drink, and then he breaks his bottle off and goes in to screams.

Bound (The Wachowskis): A lesbian handyman falls for a woman married to an abusive mobster that they plot to rob. The first 45 minutes were very enjoyable as a lesbian heist film. Unfortunately, once the gunshots started the torture scenes became so stressful for me to watch that I sweated through my shirt. (I also had Covid).

[wellntruly]

The 4077 Film Festival

I watched three (plus) movies that they watched on M*A*S*H; this is my book report.

“Marlene Dietrich is back in town.” / 2x24 ‘A Smattering of Intelligence’

Okay so this one is actually just referenced in dialogue, not a specific film we watch them watch, but it happened that I watched two of Josef von Sternberg’s Marlene Dietrich films right before starting the M*A*S*H fest programming in earnest, so prologue, baby, prologue!

I had moved Shanghai Express (1932) up my watch list ever since it kicked off the Little Gold Men podcast’s Pride month Oscar flashbacks series this year, reminding me that I really wanted to see another Marlene Dietrich movie. Just stepping forward a few years into the 1930s also felt good, felt right after watching just so many (all) of Buster Keaton’s movies from the 1920s. Hot Chronological Summer!

I ended up watching both it and Morocco, because Shanghai Express SO enchanted me. Morocco (1930) is the one where Dietrich dresses in a tuxedo and steals a kiss from a woman, but Shanghai Express actually felt more pervasively, albeit subliminally queer to me, perhaps because she and her fellow sapphically inclined co-star Anna May Wong were rumored to have had an affair at some point. There’s just something about the scenes of the two of them lounging in a train car together just listening to music or silently playing cards and coolly eyeing anyone who comes in that says ‘gay culture.’ The actual romance plot is heterosexual of course, but it was wild how much more I was into that relationship than I was her one with Gary Cooper in Morocco, a much more famous and famously handsome star than [looks him up yet again] Clive Brook, and yet Brook all the WAY for me, girl. If we have to choose between Marlene Dietrich’s male love interests in von Sternberg pictures.

Anyway in the second season M*A*S*H episode ‘A Smattering of Intelligence’, Radar is engaged in a bit of hoodwinking (the 4077th’s second favorite pastime after flirting), and to indicate that he’s surreptitiously swapped some papers to further confuse some spy vs. spy antics going on, lights a cigarette and strikes a leg-up pose silhouetted in the doorway, causing spy #2 to ask if that’s the signal, and Hawkeye to remark, “Either that, or Marlene Dietrich is back in town,” and honestly describing Radar as being in drag as a famous bisexual woman from the ‘30s is not necessarily the least accurate description of Radar’s gender that I can think of.

Should you watch Shanghai Express? Babe yes, so moody in the best way. The play of light and shadow! This mysterious cast of characters all thrown together on a train! The Chinese civil war??? SHANGHAI EXPRESS.

Should you watch Morocco? Also looks so so beautiful, but if you only have room in your life for one Marlene movie, easy choice it's the above.

Blood and Sand (1941) / 3x05 ‘O.R.’

And now we reach the movies they actually watch on the show, although the first is a slight feint: this one we only hear. Early in the third season episode ‘O.R.’, recognizing that they’re all going to be working through the night, Radar asks Henry if he should pipe the audio from the movie in over the PA system, and Henry approves of this. I IMMEASURABLY approve of this, and think hearing the sound of old movie dialogue and Spanish guitar playing half muffled overhead as they operate is one of the most spellbinding atmospheres this show ever captured.

But the interesting thing about the choice of Blood and Sand for this episode, is that what this movie was most known for was actually its bold Technicolor visuals. Reportedly, director Rouben Mamoulian would carry around spray paint with him so he could change the color of props at a moment’s notice, and was also known to just paint shadows onto the walls sometimes if he couldn’t get the effect he wanted with light alone. The efforts of Mamoulian and his crew nabbed them the Academy Award for Best Cinematography: Color for 1941 (this was the era where there were two cinematography categories for color and black & white; ran until the 1960s actually!), as well as a nomination for Art Direction.

Though the film got no other notices and somewhat mixed reviews overall, Tyrone Power and Rita Hayworth were big deal movie stars, and their star-power is probably what contributed to much of this movie’s commercial success. When Father Mulcahy, hearing a scene playing over the speaker, asks what this is, Henry just states the title and their names. From another table, Hawkeye adds as a piece of description: “The Frank and Hot Lips of Old Seville.”

As it happens, Hawkeye’s joke is not so far off really! Tyrone Power is playing a passionate dumb matador married to a beautiful and innocent Linda Darnell (secret stalwart of the M*A*S*H programming, she's in two of these!), but gets swept up in a tumultuous affair with a powerful temptress played by Rita Hayworth. Something I learned watching Blood and Sand is that when Loretta Swit is playing Margaret in glimmering, half-lidded seduction mode, a big loose enticing smile on her lips, she is absolutely channeling Rita Hayworth in movies like this. And given the way Blood and Sand goes (I am so sure you can guess), Hawkeye would seem to be implying that Margaret is fully capable of destroying Frank’s whole hapless married ass.

Verisimilitude Corner: What plays over the speakers is 100% a scene in Blood and Sand, but I believe that the Spanish guitar I so love is actually lifted from a different part of the score and layered in with this particular Power & Hayworth dialogue. It creates a much more distinctive auditory profile to weave through the background of this scene; I completely understand why they would have done this.

Should you watch Blood and Sand? Naw, it’s sure got a look, but story and construction aren’t exactly anything to write home about

Leave Her to Heaven (1945) / 3x18 ‘House Arrest’

The first thing I noticed about Leave Her to Heaven should have occurred to me earlier: 20th Century Fox. All three of these titles turn out to be Fox movies, making all the sense in the world, as M*A*S*H the show was produced by the Fox television arm, after the success of the feature branch’s surprise hit, M*A*S*H the Altman film. Licensing clips of movies is definitely easier when they are also your movies.

The next framing element we need to discuss is that once more, this film was known for its vivid Technicolor cinematography, again the winner of the Academy Award for Cinematography: Color its year! And yet, what they’re watching on M*A*S*H is definitely Leave Her to Heaven, and definitely in black & white. Come to think of it, all films they watch are.

I have tried to figure out what’s going on here, and in the process have learned a lot more about the mechanics both physical and economic of Technicolor film, but have not come up with any definitive explanation (yet), just an educated guess. Which is, as it so often is, especially with the Army: cost. Shooting Technicolor film was outrageously expensive, involving huge cameras that you had to rent by the day from the Technicolor company, through which you would run three strips of film that were treated in different ways, so would respond to light and then dye differently (yes they dyed the film! incredible! are you seeing why it was SO ‘SPENSIVE), and then they’d all be layered together, et voilà: the richer-than-life colors you see in Technicolor films from the 30s-50s.

And as a side product this process also resulted in: a black & white negative. Now I have not yet found anyone confirming this, but my suspicion is that the studios would also make some copies off this negative that were not run through the pricey dye process, and those black & white reels would have been available for cheap if you were, say, the U.S. Army, looking for a discounted way to distract for a couple hours the people you’ve sent to fight a war from the fact that you’ve sent them to fight a war. I think it’s a good theory! But if anyone has actual info PLEASE let me know, I’m so so interested in what was going on here.

But meanwhile: in the third season M*A*S*H episode ‘House Arrest’, Hawkeye, on the titular house arrest, learns that Gene Tierney, striking in any color scheme, is in the movie they have that week, and is ready to move Heaven & Earth, or at least Father Mulcahy, to be able to see her. What Hawkeye does not know at this moment, nor would anyone watching this episode who has not seen John M. Stahl’s Leave Her to Heaven, is that it also predominantly takes place in SMALL TOWN MAINE. I love the idea of M*A*S*H writers putting this easter egg in here, winking “and this will be one for the Criterion crowd :)” (also predicting the emergence of the Criterion Collection ten years later).

Verisimilitude Corner: For reasons I cannot fathom, the Leave Her to Heaven clips playing on the wall of the Swamp are happening all out of order. The first scene we see set at a table takes place in the early middle of the film, then we cut way back to the beginning portion in New Mexico, before swinging all the way to a piece in the last act. There is no wedding scene in this film, no matter what Father Mulcahy says, but it is in fact even funnier that Henry cries at the one he does, as this is actually one of Gene Tierney's big dangerous femme fatale moments (for all that like, they all are—tbc!!), and his weeping at it tracks with how Nurse Able is mystified by his reaction, and earlier he'd complained that after looking away for two seconds he had lost the plot.

Should you watch Leave Her to Heaven? So turns out Leave Her to Heaven is considered one of the few COLOR NOIRS, and it kinda fucks totally. It looks so Douglas Sirk melodrama gorgeous, but with a plot straight out of Gone Girl. And like, you ever seen Vincent Price, young? NOT I. Impossibly tall. Shows up in a rain storm in the New Mexico desert. Martin Scorsese has said this is one of his favorite movies—the taste.

My Darling Clementine (1946) / 5x22 ‘Movie Tonight’

And finally, from the Potter era, and from Potter’s heart, comes the fifth season episode 'Movie Tonight', where we watch really a remarkable amount of the battered copy he’s managed to track down of his favorite film, the John Ford western My Darling Clementine.

Harry Morgan is so cute, the phrase “My Darling Clementine” is so cute—with its lilting song to match—and this episode itself: it’s cute. The film screening works just as Colonel Potter hoped it might: a way to bring his campful of grown theater kids together during a tense patch. It’s very funny how little urging it takes for them to begin using every unplanned projector failure intermission as an opportunity to get up and start doing impressions for each other.

But do you know what’s so intriguing? When I finally watched My Darling Clementine, I found it actually struck a kind of harmony with M*A*S*H’s more melancholy currents. Filmed in 1946, it’s been called one of the first true post-war westerns, and there does feel something sort of haunted in it, this sense of loss. It starts in the song even, which after those first lines you remember is actually about a young woman “lost and gone forever.” So many of the characters are carrying some sort of wound, physicalized in coughs or injuries if not simply the toll clearly being wrought on them by the deaths that keep falling around them.

And then there’s that the two main characters are a brooding, Shakespeare-loving, TB-stricken outlaw surgeon (oh okay!), and their reluctant but-I’ll-do-it new marshal, a mellow, even-voiced, semi-secretly then not at all secretly total fucking weirdo, who caused me to message a M*A*S*H friend part-way in, hey, did we know Henry Fonda as Wyatt Earp is Such A BJ. Fun, FUN. That would have been fun in the mess tent.

The film itself isn’t devoid of humor, either, should mention! Particularly around Old West Hunnicutt. It's that element as well as its dreamy bleakness that pairs well with a mobile hospital post in Korean War sitcom purgatory. Colonel Potter, famously, loves horses, so his 2/3rds horse-based explanation for why he loves this movie raises zero questions, but what that doesn’t indicate is you’re also going to get scenes like one where Doc Holiday is having alcohol poured over his hands so he can do emergency surgery on a pair of scrubbed tables in the saloon. This was a good pick, M*A*S*H writers, is what I’m saying.

Should you watch My Darling Clementine? Oh yes if I was not clear: Yes

4077 Film Festival: Closing Remarks

I enjoyed this process so much. I love conceptual experiences and homework, so, really optimal for me. And I love old movies and I love M*A*S*H and I love their use of old movies on M*A*S*H! Contemporary cultural elements like this do wonders I think to recall you to their actual time period, as this show is so much about the 1970s and Vietnam, that remembering it's actually set in the '50s can give me an enjoyable swoop in my stomach as I suddenly fall back further in time. It was the 1950s... The records that show up in 'Your Hit Parade' are all jazz... M*A*S*H: good show, good movie & music supervision.

Up next: NOT Bedtime For Bonzo (1951), a real movie, that also underscores my statement above as I just need to express to you: starred future president Ronald Reagan. M*A*S*H!!!!