#sigh. and the jedi path book I was so obsessed with that book as a kid even though like 0 of it is canon lol

[dogcollarpunk]

very funny that I want to go back to s/ w so bad but everything sucks so hard all the time rn

[peteyprecious616]

Broke

Pairing: Din Djarin x reader

Summary: Teamed up on a mission to capture a criminal, you both were in it for different reasons. Greed, Love and sacrifices had to be made to get what you wanted. Even if love wasn't the most important thing to you. But it was to him.

Word Count: ~3k

A/N: so please be gentle with this fic. I really have been wanting to watch these new Disney shows for awhile but I haven't gotten around to it. I tried my best to depict Din and this world but I only know so much. My friends and family watch it so I know some about it. But I do love the idea of the Mandalorian, and Im obsessed with Star Wars and Pedro Pascal, so heres something :)

Warnings: Some information from the newest episode of The Book of Boba Fett; some curse words; alcohol; mentions of Grogu; Violence; some blood and action; some angst or a lot ;)

Main Masterlist

As you saw him study the well-known target, making arrangements to land the ship close to the slaughterhouse where they could grab the criminal, a worried gaze settled over you.

He was tired.

He was lost without the kid. He took up many jobs across the galaxy, not hoping but pleading to simply cross paths with the Jedi that claimed to keep him safe. He almost went stir-crazy. Claiming the kid as his own from the start, caring for him, nurturing him, he just couldn’t keep himself from worrying. He knew the strong force would protect him from the darkness of the universe, keeping him connected even though he would most likely never see him again.

A pitiful sigh came from his lips as he came back to reality.

“Did you receive the files yet?”

His eyes were still reading over the ones you received earlier from the base. His gloved hand resting over his aching forehead.

“I haven’t seen any. What are we missing?” You wondered what other possible information he could need? He studied this person, every day for the past few weeks. Hell, the last few years. He knew Kaba Baiz too well. When he came to get you, you noticed his tired gaze. His slumped posture. He only took short breaks, sleeping in the pilot seat, files pressed up against his metal chest, almost falling to the ground.

That night you had to coax him from his slumber, not knowing if he was conscious or not but pushing him to go get something to eat while you steered. He was very stubborn.

It was a reoccurring dance that you two had over the years.

“Please go to bed, Mando. I can handle the rest.”

“Are you sure? I can still look over his profile, he might have changed his whereabouts since someone tipped him off saying that someone was looking for him.”

He wondered who could have done it? He knew many people throughout the galaxy, but most of them were people he trusted. He didn’t tell anyone about the bounty, except for you obviously.

“Yes, I'm sure. You need to sleep. Go.” Your hands waved him off as you slightly giggled at his swaying body. He was on the verge of collapse, but he was always persistent in getting the job done.

He still stood there. His hidden pleading gaze from behind his helmet locked with yours.

“I'll meet you in bed soon, okay?” you reminded him.

A small nod as he turned around lazily, walking to his cabin. You shook your head.

He always needed reassurance. He didn’t sleep well at night without you close to him.

You were the only one that knew what he went through at night. He has captured so many people before, all the jobs straining his mind. But this one was the worst. Kaba Baiz was hated by many. He always had people working for him and kept him hidden. He slipped through The Mandalorians fingertips without a trace. It made him go insane.

But you always told him that he would capture him eventually. You stood by him with confidence, giving him constant reassurance that Kaba Baiz would meet his demise under the hands of the Mandalorian.

He never gave up.

Even though you left.

—-

You started as allies through work. Being strung together by the Guild Master at first, hunting down a simple bounty, he caved.

He liked to work alone.

It was easier to get rid of people, kill people than to make friends. Small grumbles of yes and no through his helmet were the only responses you got over a few months as you traveled to the wanted destinations. His ship, the infamous Razor Crest, kept all the information you needed to capture the bounty. You joined because of the debt you owed to multiple people, you begged the Guild Master to give you a chance to prove yourself. They relented with weary, but not so far as trusting you because of your fickle loyalty to them. You were grateful but to what extent were you willing to go for payment?

You became an unrelenting force of nature, fighting alongside him, putting an end to his foes, or just simply making extra cash. Before the kid, and before the dark saber; just a few blasters, and running on fumes of leftover cash they made, used to spend on late-night talks at the local cantina.

You asked him what made the Mandalorians so praised by others? The hidden gem of the galaxy to do the dirty work for the higher power that couldn’t get their hands dirty. Why did he do this out of choice?

You knew he swore an oath, taking up the role of the Mandalorian. He wanted to be feared by many, to scare anyone who stepped foot in front of him. All Mandalorians had that feeling towards others, they were relentless.

He didn’t answer that question. It was the weight carried by all Mandalorians. It was their job. He never questioned it.

So you wondered why he was less intimidating? He seemed calmer than the rest, quieter, and kept to himself rather than wanting to fight you on everything you questioned about his secret life.

He wanted to consider you someone he could trust. A friend. You might have been more untamed than others he's worked with.

But it was refreshing seeing someone who cared about doing what was right. He loved your passion and your willingness to work with him. He was not easy to work with, as some people have told him over the years.

A few laughs over ale, talking about your rough encounters over the years. A few drunk confessions about their sad lives living alone. You cared for him, he felt like he could tell you anything. And he did.

—

“Come on Mando, they are serving free drinks tonight, you have to go.” You mumbled as you saw him sitting in his pilot seat again watching the strown lights go past each planet.

You kicked the side of his boot, arms crossed, hip jutted next to him, waiting for at least a grumble confirmation.

He said nothing. Not even a side glance from the Buckethead. You were annoyed.

“Stop worrying about what happened today. Yes, we lost the lead we had on Kaba Baiz, so what.”

A few months after you teamed up. You almost had him. Mando was furious. Someone gave up their location to friends of Kaba for tons of cash.

He had been so careful. So quiet and intricate about the plan.

You saw his hands grab the handles of the seat. That sentence made him perk up fast. He stands up to meet your gaze through his helmet, standing inches from your face.

“So what? You know how important this job was for me. For us. We won’t be able to go far with what cash we have left. I wanted him gone.”

You gently grabbed his helmet. You set your forehead on top of his metal one. Trying to ease away from his stress. He needed to let loose. Stop worrying. He was a great hunter. A trusted one.

“We both want him gone. It will just take a little longer. I believe in us.” You sighed as he pulled you into a frustrated but love-crushing hug.

“And don’t worry honey, we have money.” You smirked as you whispered into his ear. Pulling his hand near the hanger door. Skipping happily down the ramp ready for another late night with Mando…

You were always in it for the money.

He didn’t care about it. But he enjoyed your company, so he gave most of the savings to you.

Whatever made you happy.

—

After the miss on Baiz, you started to get antsy. You’ve never been someone who could just sit and wait. You always wanted something in your hands, always moving. Mando could sit and scope out new information easily. He knew how to be patient. He could plan things out, leaving you to tag along, ready to fight.

You couldn’t stand the criminal's name on his lips anymore. It was frustrating, always hearing about him, visiting people who knew about him. It was exhausting.

You needed to be free. You wanted to do something on your own.

So you begged him to let you stay at the nearest town you stopped at. The place where Mando could get more information about a buyer who knew someone close to Baiz.

“But why would you want to stay here? I thought you wanted to be with me?” His worried fingertips played with his blaster on the side, fingers slid through the belt loop nervously.

“Oh honey, I never want to leave you. But this could be helpful.” He looked at you confused. The razor chest was somewhere safe. He needed you safe.

“I could stay here and look around to find more information about Baiz. Since there’s someone here who’s close to him, I could try and build up a bigger lead on him.” At first, he thought that idea was iffy. He knew you could handle yourself. You were a strong hunter. That was one of the things he loved about you.

He struggled to let you go but maybe you had a point.

Your hands rested on his helmet. A fond gesture he became addicted to.

“You can follow the lead you have. We will still be in contact I promise.”

Your eyes tried to find his hidden ones. You promised him. He was loyal to you and your words.

So he let you go.

—

“Let me go in first,” you told him as your handheld him back on the ramp. Your hand pushed against his chest gently. Trying to reason with him.

“Why? We know he's in this building. We go in together, always.” He stated through his helmet. Over the years, you always had a system. You always went into the bust together, to protect each other.

“I know we do Mando. But the person told me that he only wanted one person to go in. I don’t need both of us getting hurt.” The hand still held over his heart on his chest. Getting him to reason with you.

“Trust me.” you pleaded. A smile started to grow on your lips. It was familiar to him. He always trusted you.

“Okay. But if you aren’t back out here in 5 minutes, there will be hell to pay.” He grumbled angrily at the situation. He was never angry at you.

“I'll be fine.” As you left a small peck at the side of his helmet. Leaving a red stain on the helmet.

He hasn’t seen your face in a few months. He hasn’t been able to hold you in his arms, to make sure you were okay. He was always worried.

“I'm fine, honey. I found a small cabin to stay in. They are nice, trusting people. They take care of me well.”

He sighed with relief. It was small but it was a start.

“How's the kid? Is he behaving well? I've never actually seen you with him. How are you doing?”

You relayed to him. A similar worried expression came from your lips as you tried to keep him with you. He was always worried about the kid.

“He's doing well. I'm trying my best but we are still working on it…maybe I should come and visit you? I’ve told him all about you. He gets excited whenever I mention you. He wants to meet you.”

“Oh, that would be amazing. Whenever you get the chance, stop by. Just promise to let me know? I've been busy with a smaller lead of Baiz for you. I know we're close, I can feel it.”

He sighed happily. He knew you were working hard to help find the criminal.

You always told him overcall.

He missed you.

“Okay, honey. Be careful.” he sighed.

He knew you were always risking your life. You were the wild one. You giggled at his worries.

“No promises.”

—-

He told you about the kid on your way over to the slaughterhouse. Catching you up on smaller details he didn’t have time to tell you over the late-night calls. Meeting new people. Wielding new weapons.

But you could see on his face he missed the kid. He was a lonely man before he met you. He was a protector. He needed someone or something he could save, know he wasn’t just a Mandalorian.

A killer.

So at least he could protect the little one. And he did.

Until the Jedi came to retrieve him. He told you the pain he went through giving him up. Trying to trust he did the right thing. Giving him to someone that knew his path, a stronger individual that knew he could protect the child.

It was one of his biggest losses. He would never forget. He's lost so much.

But at least he had you now, right?

A small explosion ripped him through his thoughts. His legs carrying him down the ramp, he saw multiple workers scattering from the building.

He started calling out your name as he ran into the smoking slaughterhouse. Running over seared rubble, trying to get through the crowd of people shoving their way through the only exit.

He yelled your name again, praying that you were okay.

He ran to the back of the building. Poker chips on the ground as the table was leaned sideways. Cut in the middle. There was no one here.

He heard a bellowing cough through a small pile of rubble.

He ran over instantly, pushing off the seared debris away from the coughing fit, he had to make sure you were okay.

But when he lifted the last piece of wood off the body, it wasn’t you.

Kaba Baiz.

The son of a bitch.

He grabbed the criminal by the collar of his shirt, blood seeping through the shirt from the sharp debris that ripped through his body.

“Where is she?” He grunted through his helmet. His teeth ground over each other, holding back till he got his answer.

“Who?” Baiz mumbled. His head was cloudy from the explosion. His hazy eyes came into focus as he saw the familiar metal suit holding him up from the ground. His laugh was nasal. Almost in a mocking tone.

“Oh her. Yeah, she's gone.”

He grabbed his collar closer.

“What do you mean gone?” He yelled.

You had to be close. He needed to find you soon.

Baiz laughed at the naive man.

“What I just said. She left. She took the money and scattered before the explosion went off.”

That doesn’t make any sense to him. You were supposed to come to get him. Of course, this guy would lie to him. He was a no-good venomous snake.

He was seething.

“You’re lying. You hid her. You took her.”

He had to be lying.

“You don’t get it. I had her. What did you think she was doing the past few months you were gone?”

You told him all about your leads on the case. Always telling him you were close to Baiz.

But he never thought you would be this close. You lied to him.

“She always wanted the money, Mando. You just couldn’t see it through your thick helmet. She didn't want you. She never wanted you.”

His grip was slipping from Baiz. He still couldn’t understand. He knew you loved to be independent. You needed your space, that's why he trusted you to stay in the town, to find more evidence.

To help him.

Baiz pushed Mando off of him, catching him when he knew he was vulnerable.

How could you do this to him? You knew how much this meant to him. You said you believed in him.

He could’ve got you all the money in the world.

Baiz kicked the Mandalorian to his back. His foot stepped over his metal-covered chest.

Mando tasted blood, he seethed with anger, rage but not because of Baiz. You stabbed his heart. He was bleeding from the chest. You were his friend, his lover, his ally.

He protected you.

But he couldn’t protect himself from you.

He pulled himself from his hazy mind, pulling out his dark saber while Baiz was fuming on his power-hungry rant about him being better than him. It was an opening.

Mando pushed the saber through the man's chest, a shocked choke came from the man's lips, blood seeped over his chin. The body fell to the ground with ease, a loud rumble came into the air.

Blood dripped from the saber, as he stood there in shock. You left him. He couldn’t feel anything but a small rumble coming from outside the building.

He slowly walked out of the building, investigating, hoping he could see you and ask you how?

How could you do this to him? But what sealed Baiz’s answer was the wind that pushed him to the wall next to the door. His Razor Crest, his ship lifting off the ground, the ramp now put away, as he saw you in the pilot’s chair. The one that you pulled him from after long nights of stress. With a crooked smile on your face, ready to celebrate with the money you earned…stolen.

You flew away with no challenge because it was familiar. It was your ship.

But it was his ship too. The one he stupidly chose to share with you.

You left him like you left his heart,

Left to bleed alone. Broke.

[dameronology]

a good jedi {obi-wan x reader}

summary: obi-wan kenobi always knows what to say, and he's always right - most the time, it's pretty annoying, but when you need advice? you're in luck. (this is platonic obi-wan x padawan! reader btw! for @raeshin -- i hope you enjoy!)

warnings: it probably has language in it somewhere? at this point i don't even know when i do and don't swear.

enjoy!! if you'd like to read more about commissioning a fic, the faqs are here :)

- jazz xx

The Jedi Temple had been scary at first.

With it's high walls and long, tangled history, you felt the pressure of being a warrior weigh on your shoulders almost the minute you set foot in the grand corridors. You'd been just a kid at the time - wide eyed and filled with some kind of weird, naive hope - but in your few, short years in the galaxy, you had heard more than enough about the Jedi. Who they were, and what they stood for; the adventures they went on and the way they brought balance to the Galaxy. The connection you felt to them had never seemed to be anything more than a youthful obsession with a world you wanted to be a part of.

Then, not long after your sixth birthday, things began to make sense. A mysterious man in a cloak paid your home planet a visit -- for you. Your interest in the Jedi hadn't been coincidental. Not in the slightest. Your connection to the Force was almost overwhelming, and it was something that Obi-Wan Kenobi could sense the minute he met you for the first time. For a young kid who had been torn away from their family and had the trajectory of their life changed entirely, your upbeat approach to the change of circumstance was pleasantly...surprising. It was clear from the get-go that you had a thirst for adventure, and a strong sense to do the right thing. Two things that, arguably, would have made you the perfect Jedi.

Obi-Wan was a good example of one; he was calm under pressure, patient as a mentor and things were never boring. It didn't take long for him to become like an older brother to you, and for that, you were grateful. There were other Padawans who hadn't been as lucky -- their mentors were either obsessed with the rules, or they were more preoccupied by their outstanding missions and meetings with the Council. Obi-Wan had always made you his main priority, focusing on your training and making sure that you didn't make the same mistakes as him (but let's face it -- were there many?).

Perhaps, it was that idolisation that had lead you to become scared of opening up to him about your own fears. Of course, he would never judge you, but the irrational, anxiety-induced voice in your head didn't know any better. You were terrified of letting him down, and even more fearful that he might lose faith in you for having doubts. Doubts in yourself, doubts in the Jedi, doubts in everything they stood for. What kind of warrior questioned their dedication and the morals of the order to which they were seemingly destined to be a part of? A bad one - or so you told yourself.

It had been easy to push them down at first; to brush aside your worries and tell yourself you were being silly. But, what had started as a little voice in the back of your head soon became a loud, all-consuming bellow. It was hard to ignore, especially now that Obi-Wan had thrown around the idea of beginning practice for your trials. You were no longer a child anymore, but a young adult. It was time for you to start moving up in the world, and in the Jedi Order, and that would mean reaffirming your commitment to them. You'd near enough dedicated two decades of your life to the cause, but it was only now that the doubt was truly starting to plague you.

It was becoming harder to hide it from Obi-Wan. Not only was he extremely intuitive and pragmatic in himself, but the Force connection that your Jedi-mentor relationship had provided you with made it even harder to kick your emotions under the fridge like ice and pretend they weren't there. Even when you gave him your best fake smile and promised you were excited for what was to come, he saw right through it. Your thinly-veiled emotions were no match for a man who could read you like a book.

"We have to report the council." Obi-Wan said. He stepped aside, allowing you to exit the ship with him in tow. "It might be useful for you to deliver the mission report. Good practice for when you're out there on your own-"

"- master, we haven't even got a date for when I'll be doing the trials." You cut him off. The Temple wasn't too far of a walk, but it took you through the gardens. "I'd rather not get ahead of myself."

"It's always better to be a few steps ahead then a few steps behind." He shot back.

"Yeah, I suppose." You muttered. "I think I'm where I need to be right now. Not ahead, nor behind."

He thinned his eyes at you. "If you're sure."

"Very." You forced a smile. "Besides, I'm tired out. It's been a long few days."

"I find myself doubting the sincerity of your statement given that you threatened Anakin over a game of holochess just mere seconds ago-"

"- he was cheating!" You exclaimed. "But really, master, I am shattered. I'd be grateful if you'd let me retire for the night, unless you're really that desperate for my presence in front of the council."

"Very well." Obi-Wan nodded. "Get some rest. I'll see you in the morning for training?"

You stopped in your tracks, just in front of the corridor that lead to your chambers. Normally, you were pretty good at coming up with excuses - now, your ability had failed you entirely. It wasn't that you didn't want to wake up early and train, but rather that you were so caught up in your own concerns and doubts that it would affect your ability to fight at all. And, with all due respect to Obi-Wan, the last thing you needed was to be thrown half-way across the room at 5AM on a Saturday morning during combat training.

"I'm not sure," you nervously shuffled from one foot to another. "I might skip training tomorrow and focus on my readings."

Obi-Wan folded his arms across his chest. "Something is going on with you."

"There isn't." You tried to sound confident in your words. "I'm just-"

"- tired?" He raised an eyebrow. "Have you been getting enough sleep lately?"

"Of course." You replied quickly- perhaps a bit too quickly.

"Hmm." Obi-Wan clearly wasn't taking your bullshit. "You know that you've been my Padawan for the better part of twenty years, don't you?"

"Right."

"I can tell when you're lying." He continued. "We'll finish it here tonight but I'm not done with this conversation."

"There's nothing to talk about." You coldly said. "Good night, Master."

Obi-Wan sighed, blue eyes flittering to the floor. "Good night."

--

True to your word, you slept through training the next day. You didn't even bother setting an alarm, instead choosing to snooze right through til late morning. It was a much-needed lie in -- between your missions, your late-night stressing sessions and constantly running away from the subject of your trials, you were shattered. The sleep had been good, but it didn't much when it was your soul that was tired.

You found yourself in the Temple gardens not long after you woke up. They were the most peaceful place in the entire building -- fields of fresh, green grass, and tangles of unkempt plants that stretched out as far as you could see. The late-morning sun was hanging high in the sky, casting a golden glow on your skin as you slowly wandered down the path. There were a few other people sat on the lawns, either meditating or reading a book. Instead of doing either, you simply meandered. It was hard to remember the last time you weren't doing something...Jedi-ish.

"That isn't reading."

You froze at the sound of your Master's voice -- he was sat on one of the benches, lunch laid out beside him. Knowing Obi-Wan, he'd probably risen at 4AM and done ten times as much in his waking hours than everyone else in the Temple had done in a week. He was always on the go, always dedicating himself to something. Sometimes, he took you along for the ride.

"I was taking a walk." You shot back.

"I can see that." Obi-Wan said. He tossed his sandwich into the bin and stood up, dusting off his trousers. "Let's walk and talk."

"Master, I'm going to be honest with you, I really wanted this time for myself." You explained. "And with all due respect, most of the Padawans out here are alone, and not with their masters-"

"- so you're too cool to be seen in public with me now?" He raised an eyebrow. "I can sense your anxiety and I think it would be good for us to get to the bottom of it."

You sighed to yourself -- the gig was up. But, to give credit where credit was due, you had been able to hide your woes from him for the better part of six months. You could feel your heart-rate picking up in your chest at the thought of coming clean. What if he was disappointed in you? Or worst, insulted that you were worrying about the Order he had sworn his life to?

Obi-Wan placed his hand on the small of your back, forcing you to start walking beside him, through the gardens and towards the temple. So much for a peaceful morning.

"Talk to me." He said. "What's troubling you?"

"I..." you let your eyes fall to the floor. "Look, if I tell you, can you promise me one thing?"

"Of course."

"That you won't be disappointed in me?"

"I could never be disappointed in you." Obi-Wan replied. "If you've made a mistake, it's fine. How else are we supposed to learn?"

"It's not so much a mistake, so much it is a feeling." You began. "I've dedicated most of my life to this Order, and the things it stands for, and by the looks of it, the rest of my life will be too. That was amazing when I was a kid, and not entirely capable of thinking for myself. Now I can, and I find myself full of...doubt."

"Right," He pondered on your words for a moment. "Doubt about what, exactly?"

"The Order." You replied. "There are so many rules to follow, and so many codes. It's been okay up until now but what if one day, I find myself wanting to make a decision that goes against it? Or making a choice that I think to be correct, but the Council see as wrong?"

Obi-Wan was quiet for a moment. He felt your words in his core -- he'd had his moments like that too. Many, many moments of doubt, sprinkled throughout the last three decades. But, just a few was plenty enough for him to remember - the hesitation, the worry, the endless thoughts of leaving and breaking free plaguing in his mind. There had been so much loss; so much grief and hurt that had pushed him to the edge. Qui-Gonn, Satine, members of the 501st who had fallen victim to the ongoing Clone Wars. There were days where he came closer and closer to his breaking point - in the same way there were days that it felt like it was inching further away. Like the day that the two of you went to Corellia, and he saw you hold your own in battle for the first time, or the day that he managed to get himself kidnapped, and you and Anakin came to rescue him and make a joke out of it. It was the days like that which he'd clung onto so tightly.

You never would have known, not from his outward appearance. From where you were standing, Obi-Wan Kenobi was calm and collected. He always stood his ground and did the right thing, and aside from a few grey hairs that had cropped up in his otherwise-strawberry-blonde hair, you never would have known the losses he had faced. The sacrifices he had made.

And it broke his heart that you feeling that same misgivings and apprehensions that he had.

"Master, you've been quiet for a really long time." You murmured. "Maybe I should just forget it, pretend I didn't say anything-"

"- Not every decision that I've made has been in line with what a good Jedi is." Obi-Wan cut you off. "But you don't need to worry, I can assure you of that much."

You peered up at him. "What do you mean?"

"You might not always be a good Jedi, but you'll always do the right thing." He explained.

"You think so?"

"I know so." He replied. "I see it in you. Whatever way you interpret the Jedi Code, you needn't worry, because you can't be a good Jedi until when, stripped back to the very core of your humanity, you're a good person. And you are, undoubtedly so."

You smiled. "Thank you."

"There are going to be times when you doubt everything you stand for, and everything you dedicate your life to." Obi-Wan continued. "And when I find myself doing that, I look at it from a different angle. The be-all-and-end-all of what we do is to help and protect others, whether that's under the guise of the Jedi, or as a civilian. That's what matters."

"That makes sense." You nodded. "Thank you for listening. I was worried you were going to be disappointed in me."

"I've been disappointed with the Jedi Order itself hundreds of more times than I've been disappointed with you." He said. "Your ability to question authority when necessary is going to get you far. It's better to be overly cautious than overly naive."

"Does that apply to your authority too?" You grinned.

"If need be - but I like to think I'm a pretty relaxed master." Obi-Wan replied. "I could be a lot harder on you. Especially on mornings when you lie to me and sleep in."

You groaned. "It won't happen again. I can assure you that your current methods of teaching are more than sufficient."

"Sufficient enough that you're ready for the trials?"

"Maybe." You cautiously said. "I suppose we could at least talk to the council about it."

"Thank you." Obi-Wan grinned. "Then you can finally get rid of me."

"I could never." You shot back.

[bunker-verse]

Drabble: Into the Fire ( welcome, Jedi Collins )

                “I dunno, Sam,” Buffy’s sunny, these days. Lots of yellow, a re-appearance of spring butterflies here and there in her hair. Like she’s trying to use color to pull herself out of whatever funk she’s been in lately. Shades of morning and summer to offset her gloomy demeanor. Her eyes cast down to her half-eaten yogurt, sitting shoulder-to-shoulder with an equally tired, equally glum Caroline who hasn’t taken her eyes off Stefan since he walked into the room. It’s late, somewhere in the midst of twilight that sees these overworked, underpaid Avengers finally up and at ’em. Sitting down to the world’s most depressing breakfast before heading out for nightly patrols.

Buffy sighs without making a sound and doesn’t lift her gaze until she absolutely has to, “I mean, I don’t have context, I’ll grant you — I only faced Katherine once. And I know you guys have history,” which is the nicest way, ever, of saying Sam has a thing about bad girls that gets him into an awful lot of trouble, “It’s just, after everything she’s done. Sam. After everyone she’s hurt…”

         Sam half-smiles, flinches, that annoyed little tick that rears it’s ugly head when someone’s listening, but they’re not hearing him. He’s frazzled, has to get his hair out of his face, so he brushes it back with both hands, “You know, I get it. I do, I get why you’ve got reservations and, you should. Katherine’s done a lot of damage but if we’re saying that makes her damaged goods? That she’s not worth saving? I’m sorry, I just don’t accept that.”

                  That would be catnip to Faith if she hadn’t checked out the minute Katherine’s name was brought up. She’s vaguely aware of what’s going on, and about how much of Sam’s ass will get kicked later on for this weird obsession with a former slice that was, by all accounts, a cheap placeholder for Faith in his life. Right now, though? By the grace of God, it’s none of her business. 

She’s sliding in her earpods, intent on ignoring this all in favor of every Smashing Pumpkins song she’s ever heard, when one of them is suddenly yanked out of her ear. She turns her head a bit, just in time to see Damon plop down on the seat between Ric and herself with a smirk and the most wicked eyebrows you’ve ever seen. 

    He wants something, and it’s distracting to Sam to watch Damon sweep glossy curls off Faith’s neck as a dramatic prelude to whispering something in her ear, cheek to cheek, that tickles her enough to crack a pirate grin across her face — distracting, but not for the reason you’re thinking. Damon’s too touchy-feely. Especially here lately, walking around cocooned in the glow of eternal honeymoon. Pulling a Joe Biden with anyone who doesn’t flinch. It’s just how he is and they all know he doesn’t mean anything by it. Ric doesn’t even look up from his book for anything but a bite of his sandwich. He doesn’t really need to. For all their bullshit, there’s a trust building there that’s a beautiful thing to behold — or, it would be, if anyone noticed. So long as Damon’s not leering at Sam, Ric can deal.

Sam’s still not happy, about to lay the whole situation out because Buffy’s about as wrong as you get without being Bizarro Superman. When someone finally busts in, it’s Dean. Both elbows on the giant table, forehead in his hands. Frustrated by a replay of fluffy-headed nonsense from the original Ruby Apologist, “Alright, alright, alright,” he uses his patented shushing hand to quiet his brother before he can do more damage, eyes still shut for another blissful moment before he’s got to join the conversation, “Look, Dude. I get you have some fond memories there, who wouldn’t? But Buffy’s right. What’s Katherine ever done but go full-on Cujo on us? Huh? No. No, Sammy, we got our own problems now. Long as she doesn’t go floatin’ around, making noise, we got no reason to cross her path, but fat-ass chance of her staying quiet.”

                   Sam’s complaint catches in his throat and he’s on his feet, pacing away towards the telescope with both fists in his hair. He sighs, turns back to the group and tries not to look like a toddler with his arms folded, “Fine. You’re right, she’s not trustworthy… and I’m not saying she is but she came to me for help. I think. Maybe she just needs to feel like she can come to us if she’s in trouble?”

Caroline sighs, obviously tired. Of the conversation, mostly. She definitely got more sleep when she was human. Her cheek’s resting hard on the edge of her balled-up fist and when she speaks, it’s weakly through a set jaw, “Okay. I don’t love it, but if you think she’s being genuine? We trust your judgement.” she glances around the rest of the group, hoping for some show of support to put an end to a conversation she doesn’t really want to be having, “Don’t we?”

      The room falls almost silent at that, no one really wanting to be the first to agree that Katherine Pierce should get the benefit of any doubt. What sounds there are seem nervous. The squeak of the cloth against Giles already clean glasses. Dean loudly clearing his throat. A ‘since when’ look on Castiel’s face that’s almost audible. Sam’s pissy, “Yeah.” is the cherry on top of the silence. He’s not getting anywhere with this group, and he knows it.

               “Never fear,” if there’s one thing Xander Harris is good at, it’s putting himself in a situation that might end in a kicking of his ass. It’s a good thing the group in front of him is used to crappy surprises, because in other circumstances? Announcing his presence like a jump scare to a group of tired, jittery superheroes might have ended badly. As it is, the tension and exhaustion is obvious as he makes his way into the middle of the War Room with a clearly unwanted junior Slayer and a pretty little red-headed thing no one’s ever seen before,  “Xander’s…” he’s barely acknowledged. He slows, looks around at a crowd that’s definitely not happy to see them, “… here?” then glances back at his posse with an uninspired, sarcastic shrug, “And you guys were worried we were interrupting something.”

Kennedy, who looks less than enthusiastic to be part of an entourage lead by Xander Harris, shoots the room a look and puts one hand on her hip and a friendly arm around the new girl’s shoulders, “See, Jedi? I told you the Men of Letters were total adults,” it’s sarcasm, but at least it’s a chipper sarcasm.

          If confusion could manifest as a person, it would be the new girl in the room. With her huge, innocent eyes and miles of ginger mane, Jedi definitely stands out in the crowd of exhausted hunters. She’s taking things in as calmly as she can, but being in the Men of Letters bunker, for someone with a heightened olfactory sense, is like being in a candle shop. A gross, disgusting candle shop that sells trash-scented candles. It’s sensory overload for someone not used to it. The Slayers smell human, mostly. Like a fight, the dirt in a wet cemetery all being masked by expensive perfume and cigarettes. The hunters, more like booze and gunpowder — all familiar to her. 

                       What’s not familiar? There are corpses in this room. They walk, they talk. They spend too much time on their hair. The group’s vampire-to-everyone-else ratio is actually ridiculously high, and if it weren’t for the fact that there were more than one species of vampire in this room, they’d be easy to pick out just from the scent.

        And there’s a demon in there. Sulfur, whiskey and fear. At least one, but demons aren’t something Jedi’s run into, much, and pinpointing exactly what that scent is will likely keep her up, tonight. Xander glances back at her, “You okay, Jed?” she nods, and he goes back to addressing the group, “I’m gonna go out on a limb and say this isn’t great timing, but we kinda have a fire to put out, here.”

                       If Damon smells a werewolf, he’s not saying anything. Just finds a way to sit closer to Ric and gently elbow his ribs to get him into the game. It works, and when Ric looks up he finds that Caroline and Stefan are sharing a concerned glance, one that makes it’s way towards Dalaric. The vampires look to Angel, standing as far off from the group as he physically can manage without technically being in another room. There seems to be a consensus among the undead — vampires and werewolves aren’t a great mix on a good day, but with everything going on with Katherine and the Hellmouth, now’s not really the time for a strange wolf in the mix.

           Dean closes his eyes, pinches the bridge of his nose and winces as Sam tosses him a beer from the other side of the table. He catches it in mid-air, twists it open and motions with it to the newbies in the group, “Who the hell gave him a key?” not that Dean has an issue with Xander, besides hating his guts, but lately it’s starting to feel like they’re running a hotel for the Shadow World.

                      Heavily, Sam takes the empty seat beside Faith and absently drapes an arm across her back, coupling easily in a way that makes Dean’s stomach turn. She’s not even paying attention, reacts by resting comfortably back against him and finally opening her mouth on the subject, “What are you guys even doing here, anyway? Don’t take this the wrong way, but if you’re lookin’ to get a room for the night? We’re all booked up on crazy, here.”

         “See? I told you this was a waste of time – ” Kennedy starts, but Xander’s not having it.

        “Look,” he interrupts, folding his arms, “I’m getting we walked into a hornet’s nest, here, but we’ve pretty much got bad coming out the wah-zoo. As the Undead Americans probably already figured out, Jedi’s a werewolf. Thing is, she’s trying to outrun a bigger wolf and we need a place to lay low while we figure out how to take him on.”

                         Jedi’s attention is taken by Kennedy, who’s still leaning on her, arm around her like they’re friends. If Kennedy seems too calm, it’s because she is. This doesn’t affect her like it affects everyone else and, frankly, she thinks she should get brownie points for bothering to show up. Kennedy rolls her eyes, looks from Dean to Sam, “I seem to remember someone telling us if we ever needed help?”

         “Yeah,” Dean’s the one who responds, pushing out of his chair and making his way towards Xander’s group. He’s looking down his nose at them, literally. Chest puffed out. Fucking werewolf. He knew he didn’t like the smell of this whole thing, “Well, that means the Slayers, Buddy. Not you, and not just any old rando demon off the street. How do we know this thing’s even house broken?”

“She’s not a ‘thing‘.” as if Dean doesn’t infuriate Xander on the regular, as it is, “Hey, she’s innocent, okay? She needs help. We do still help people, right?”

                        “Right,” it’s back to Dean, standing taller in his boots. Shoulders back, in no mood, “People. We help people, Harris. Oh man, do you ever have bad timing.”

          “We just lost people,” Buffy slowly makes her way towards the group, Caroline and Willow not far behind. She crosses her arms stiffly and glances over at Willow before continuing, “A Slayer. A couple of hunters. It was wolves, Xand. We were ambushed. I- I know she had nothing to do with it, but this? It’s just a little hard to take right now.”

“I mean, we wanna help?” when Willow finally speaks, there’s a weakness to it. The weight of that loss on her heart is audible in her voice, “We will help, just…”

     Sam takes his time standing, prompting Faith with him. It takes them both a few long moments to crowd around the newcomers, shoulder to shoulder. He sighs, “She’s right, we’ll help if we can but Xand, we’re at war right now. I mean, another Hellmouth went active just three hours from here and KC’s rumbling. Now the Clave is pushing us to put up the Lightwoods for a couple of weeks to learn how to control dimensional disruption because Brooklyn’s a full-blown Hellmouth. It’ll be a tight squeeze, but we’ll do what we can do. We just need to be sure having her here’s not putting everyone else in danger.”

                “Dude,” Dean sighs it out, “We’re not set up to deal with a werewolf here, okay? Full moon in three days, Sammy! Use your head. You really wanna risk that thing tearing into somebody, huh? Having to put it down?”

     She.” Xander’s about in Dean’s face, now. He knows. He knows what’ll happen to him if he throws a punch, but he’s not thinking straight, “Not ‘it’, she and she’s got a name. Jedi.”

                 Dean sneers, starts advancing on Xander in a way menacing enough that Jedi finally wrestles herself away from Kennedy and practically lunges at Dean, baring human teeth the way you’d expect a wolf to bare theirs. Surprisingly, it’s Faith who slides between the wolf and her brother-in-law, takes one of Jed’s shoulders and spins her back into Xander so hard it almost topples them both, “Whoa! Watch it, Jojo! Anybody’s gonna tear his throat out? Gonna be me.” Faith starts to step back, cautiously, reclaim her place beside Sam like it’s her birthright or something, “You best leash that dog, Harris. Somebody’s gonna get hurt.”

        For Jedi, though, it’s not over and as soon as she gets her balance again, she’s headed for Dean. Slow, angry. Out to protect the man who saved her life. Dean’s calm about it, when he reaches for his gun. It’s almost casual if there is such a thing. Before she’s anywhere near him, he raises the weapon, aims it and squeezes off a round – grazes her cheek, “Warning shot, Mama. Next time I don’t miss.” he up-nods in her direction, “Back off, Bitch.”

                       When the bullet whizzes by, Jedi’s head turns with it. She snaps back, slow and angry, glaring at Dean. She’s bleeding. Long, thin cut on her cheekbone. And her eyes, usually that pale, grey-blue that nobody seems to notice but Xander? Are steeled, angry wolf eyes glowing an intense punch of blue that startles the group and makes everyone take a step back, “I will rip your testicles off,” and there’s a pause, a long beat before Jedi sneers, echoing Dean, “Bitch.” Her claws are out, and that’s werewolf speak for ‘put up or shut up’.

Except, no one’s listening to that warning. Definitely not heeding it because everyone in the room packing heat has their weapon out, sight trained on the new girl.

        Sam reaches out to gently touch the back of Faith’s arm like it might calm her down, gun still aimed in the other. He’s about to say something that’ll probably make this a thousand times worse, when Ric pushes through the group and gets between Dean’s gun and Jedi. He puts his hands up, reality suddenly dawning on him and forcing him to realize that Dean might actually shoot him. As if on cue, Damon slithers in between Ric and Dean with a smirk on his face that’s begging his least favorite Winchester to give him a reason to vamp out. Alaric sighs, rests his hand on Damon’s shoulder in hopes of calming the situation, and addresses the crowd, “Okay! Okay, everybody just calm down. She came to us for help. We’ve got food and we’ve got rooms. If someone pulls their trigger, this won’t end well. No one needs to die tonight.”

                  It’s tense, though. The standoff drags on for another long few seconds until Dean grunts and lowers his gun, a cue for the rest of the group to do the same. Alaric’s clearly relieved, lets out a breath he’d been holding in as Dean stalks off, angrily exiting the room and hell bound for the kitchen.

              While the room cools down, Willow tries to smile at Xander, “Well, at least nobody got shot this time? I mean, that’s progress?

@jedicollins @professional-brat @strangeandoffputting @samattheend @choosingtogodownswinging @thatslayer @ricsidiotbestfriend @allroundlostcause @iwannadogirlystuff @unicornsrequired @optimisticyellowcrayon

[captainmazzic]

The Ahsoka Novel Review, or, Goddamnit Star Wars, Part CXXVIII

Under a cut because this thing is long as fuuuuuck

...Okay. That was... Interesting.

I’m just going to ignore the first part where the author pretends to make Ahsoka have some sort of compassion-sympathy for Maul while taunting him and throwing his disability in his face at the same time. Was there even any point to having this little exchange? It’s not mentioned later, Maul has no bearing at all on this plot, and nothing Ahsoka does here is relevant even as a learning experience for later. It’s just... there. Token inclusion to draw in the Maul fans, I guess? Or.. alienate them yet again, I don’t even know.

This is how it starts. *laughing*. It gets so much worse. And... has a few moments where it shines, I admit. Anyway. Let’s get this party started. 

So pretty much we follow Ahsoka around for a few years while she mopes about not being an Official Jedi™ and develops a major martyr obsession. Coming from Ahsoka’s mouth, it just seems so out of place, incongruent, and it gets old real fast. She regrets leaving the Jedi Order before Order 66 happens, she wishes she hadn’t survived while the rest of the Jedi died, she wonders why she lived when she didn’t “deserve” to because she “deserted” the Jedi, etc. etc. ETC. I am so sick of Heroic Characters™ with survivors’ complexes that don’t even fit their fucking character. We need another one of those like we need another vampire bemoaning immortality as a curse, or a burning stick to the eye. I’d rather take the burning stick. Ugh.

Anyway. When Ahsoka isn’t being that particular brand of OOC, she’s being a mouthpiece for... something. Someone. I’m honestly not sure who. Or why. But she says stuff that makes no sense for someone like Ahsoka to say, and you get the impression that she says it just so that the author can have these things out in the open. That whole making the crystal bleed? We won’t get started on that just yet. But yeah. What. The. Fuck. And she says stuff about Barriss being.. a... bully? Did I fucking read that right? Like I mean she says some things about Barriss that are accurate (it was cruel for her to try and let Ahsoka take the fall for the temple bombing, she didn’t trust people, and she was afraid of the war), but I’m not sure where she was ever a bully? Oh wait I guess that’s just the book being badly written. 

And oh my god. Let me just. Excerpt a few… unfortunate word choices:  

“The mechanisms put in place during the Clone Wars had been twisted for the Empire's use, and every day the Emperor’s hold grew tighter. She almost admired Palpatine for his ability to pull off a long-term plan – except for his being evil and all."

About the Grand Inquisitor:

“His agents must follow his every order as though the Emperor himself had given it. That sort of power made him feel very strong.”

Also about the Grand Inque:

“As he stalked through the corridor, his agents scattered out of his way. They were all afraid of him, which he liked rather a lot.”

And my personal favourite cringe-worthy writing:

“Dark crystals were made, too, but not in that holy place. They were plundered from their rightful bearers and corrupted by the hands that stole them. Even rock could be changed by the power of the Force, bleeding alterations until their color was the deepest red. The balance was finely staged between the two, light and dark, and it took very little to upset it.”

...What in the flying freebasing FUCK does “bleeding alterations” even fucking MEAN? What balance? Why is it staged? Why, if there is supposed to be a “balance” in the Force inside these bits of mineral, are they supposedly inherently “light”? Why are the Jedi their only “rightful bearers” (I mean, other than the Jedi arbitrarily laying sovereign claim to anything Force-related they set eyes on, whether meant for them or not)?

Oh, well let’s see here. Ahsoka is here to help.

"I've never seen white ones before," Bail mused.

"They used to be red," Ahsoka said. "When the creature had them, they were red. But I heard them before I ever saw him on Raada, and knew that they were meant for me."

"You changed their nature?" he asked.

"I restored them," Ahsoka replied. "I freed them. The red crystals were corrupted by the dark side when those who wielded them bent them to their will. They call it making the crystal bleed. That's why the blade is red."

Okay so basically Ahsoka met an Inquisitor (whom she, persistently, ever so kindly calls a “creature”, more on that in a minute), killed him, stole and destroyed his lightsabers, then ripped the crystals out of them and put them in her own shiny new lightsaber hilts she just made. They apparently faded from bright red to colourless. (Which, honestly, to me, in my ever so humble opinion, interprets as “I just killed everything unique and vibrant about these crystals and drained them of all individuality, just like the Jedi do to people when they ‘free’ them :D :D :D”. But I mean. That’s just me.) This crystal bleeding is fucking Jedi folklore superstition. It’s stupid. It’s even stupider than the old “synthetic crystals are unnatural so of COURSE the Sith use them, m’kay” canon.

I’m just. So annoyed. So very annoyed.

So anyway. Ahsoka killed an Inquisitor, the Sixth Brother. She and a little girl sense him as a shadow at first - “The shadow was almost certainly one of the dark side's creatures. Ahsoka had no idea what sort of thing it might be, but whatever it was...” And that’s that. He’s “the creature” for the rest of the time he’s referred to. Seems like she hung around Kenobi way too fucking much, his style of Jedi seems to have rubbed off on her. Sigh.

But then she protests.

"I'm not really a Jedi, you know," she said. "I left the Temple, turned away from the Jedi path."

"If you're not a Jedi, then what are you, Ahsoka Tano?" Bail asked. "Because to be honest, you still sound and act like a Jedi to me."

OF COURSE SHE DOES. SHE IS A GODDAMN JEDI. A ~Grey Jedi~ is still a fucking JEDI OH EM FUCKING GEE. They’re Jedi Lite. Half the calories, most of the judgment, twice the taste, all the guilt! Goddamnit Star Wars. You’re not fooling anyone. Stop trying.

Moving on.

So then we have the Unresolved Sexual Tension between Ahsoka and Kaeden. Which largely means… Unrequited Feels on Kaeden’s part and… nothing else.

"Ahsoka!" Kaeden ran toward her, but stopped short of throwing her good arm around Ahsoka's shoulder. She knew that lightsabers were not to be trifled with. She could almost feel the power pouring out of Ahsoka anyway. It was amazing. "I could kiss you."

Ahsoka stopped in her tracks. The look she shot Kaeden was mildly confused.

"Not now, I mean," Kaeden said. She wanted to laugh for the first time in weeks but thought that might just be the hysteria setting in. "My timing is terrible and you have all those Jedi hang-ups. I just wanted you to know in case we die."

"Oh," said Ahsoka. "Well, thanks."

….. Oh. Well, thanks.

*beats head against wall* WOULD IT HAVE KILLED YOU, STAR WARS, TO HAVE GIVEN US JUST A LITTLE BIT MORE. I mean, I’m all about canonical asexual and/or aromantic Ahsoka, that would have been fucking rad, but they’ve already given us the fiasco that was goddamn LUX BONTERI, so The Powers That Be already canonically ruined that for me. Bi or Pan or Lesbian Ahsoka would have been really awesome too. Just… anything but Clueless Insensitive Straight Ahsoka for canon, please. PLEASE. We have enough of those characters already. Ahsoka doesn’t need to be one of them. Just my opinion though. Of course. *sigh*

...And then we have a brief, very out-of-place flashback from Anakin’s POV, that actually has zERO to do with anYTHINg, but it’s heartbreaking nonetheless because it’s just before Ahsoka is introduced and Anakin is still thinking that Ahsoka is going to be Kenobi’s apprentice.

"Anakin wasn't entirely sure what his place next to Obi-Wan would look like once his friend had a new student. Jedi weren't as married to the concept of two as the Sith were, but most of them acted singly or in pairs. It was one of the reasons Anakin had never put in for a Padawan of his own. He didn't want it to look like he was pushing Obi-Wan aside. Now, Obi-Wan had gone and done it first, and Anakin still wasn't sure how he felt about it."

He didn’t want Kenobi to feel sidelined. I’m. Just. Goddamnit Star Wars don’t give me Obikin feels when we already know Kenobi turns into the most asinine, horrible person in all the Jedi next to, maybe, Yoda.

Anyway. Let’s move on again.

Oh yeah. So there’s Kolvin. He’s a Rodian.

….. Now, I don’t know if I’ve mentioned it very often, but one of the things I fixate on in Star Wars is the frequency of Rodian deaths. Almost all of the named (and a bunch of the unnamed) Rodians we meet end up getting killed. A good majority of them on-screen or in-story. Rodians are one of my favourite species in the entirety of Star Wars and it really upsets me that the greater majority of the ones we meet get axed quickly after we’re first introduced to them. And Kolvin’s no exception. We are pretty much introduced to him solely for the sake of watching him die, graphically, a chapter or two later. I’m just… furious beyond being capable of physically showing it. It’s exhausting.

And I think my final criticism of the book is the entire story behind the Empire even being on Raada in the first place. It’s such a fabricated, “Oh I guess we need a reason to fuck up Ahsoka’s life again via the Empire” kind of plot. It makes LITERALLY ZERO LOGICAL SENSE, even if I stretch real hard and invoke believing at least six impossible things before breakfast. There is NO reason why these genetically engineered plants would be useful. The Empire would not go through all this trouble to search for productive agricultural worlds only to use them once (ONCE??) and then give it up as a barren wasteland after first use. That is so unproductive, unprofitable, and inefficient. Why would they do that, and then leave the farmers to try and scrape by after that? Such a waste of resources. We already have PLENTY of examples of what the Empire does with agricultural worlds. Ones that MAKE SENSE. They come in, set up their infrastructure, heavily regulate work schedules, and implement their own ideas about what needs to be grown. And guess what? It’s stuff that they can plant indefinitely, because that keeps the population working under tight, regulated control. It keeps them in a routine that is hard to break. It keeps them busy, it keeps them tired, it keeps them distracted. It maintains a level of familiarity that’s just close enough to normalcy that they will be hesitant to do anything to break it. These are useful things to the Empire. VITAL things.

Instead we get a moustache-twirling saturday morning cartoon where the Empire sweeps in, destroys everything, cackles maniacally, knocks over your sandcastle, and kicks the puppy on the way out. Why is it so fucking hard for these hired writers to come up with a good villainous reason for the villains to be villainous? Honestly they have material RIGHT THERE. USE IT. For fuck’s sake.

Okay but with all this criticism there were a couple highlights.

There was a Black Sun agent. They didn’t last too terribly long as a part of the story, but they’re referred to only with they/them pronouns for the entire time they’re around, and that. Pleased me. Greatly. And there wasn’t even some concentrated effort to “find out their gender” or idle speculation or some other stupid bullshit. It was very much a non-issue, and that also pleased me. Good job. Gold star.

And despite the fact that Ahsoka had a lot of damning things to say about Barriss, she had this to say as well:

“She had a point about the Republic and the Jedi. There was something wrong with them, and we were too locked into our traditions to see what it was… If we'd listened to her – really listened – we might have been able to stop Palpatine before he took power."

In the text, that statement is surrounded with too many disclaimers and defensive finger-pointing for me to be entirely happy with it, but it’s something, and I’m glad Ahsoka was the one the writers allowed to say it.

I really liked it when we had some glimpses of Ahsoka’s actual questioning nature whenever the story got in her head. It didn’t happen very often at all, most of the time she’s just developing her martyr fixation or bemoaning her existence, but every now and again we get a tiny peek of the Ahsoka that captured my heart towards the end of The Clone Wars, walking away from the Jedi temple and saying that she needed to figure things out on her own, without the Jedi, without Anakin, without the crutches and restrictions that the Order held her down with. If only we’d gotten more of that Ahsoka throughout the book, it could have made the story shine.