lost-in-the-bookshelves

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at a conference I attended recently, a researcher pointed to the difficulty of finding material in archives because so much depends on the metadata and the terminology used to describe things changes over time. "it would be so helpful," the researcher said, "if I typed 'lesbian' into the library of congress database, it would also show me results that were categorised in the 50s, when the materials were interpreted as 'intimate female friendships'"

which is what tag wrangles at Archive Of Our Own do incredibly effectively: searching for "omegaverse" also leads to "alpha/beta/omega dynamics" and "alternate universe: a/b/o" and so on. but ao3 achieves this frankly incredible categorisation and indexing system by the power of countless volunteers putting in hours and hours of unpaid and unthanked free time, and it's completely understandable that most archives do not have that kind of infrastructure, but also how incredible that a fan-run website has better searchability, classification, and accessibility than the library of congress

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Murderbot is to me what Sanctuary Moon is to Murderbot. You get it.

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I get that this is mostly a me thing but seeing so many posts making fun of "holy blood cannibalism pomegranate deer" style writing just makes me sad ;-; . guys that's a lot of people's first stab at poetry that's hobby art that's a vulnerable thing to post those are passion projects...

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Source: alexhaagaard.bsky.social‬

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I have a lot of thoughts about the MurderBot show, but I think one of my very favorite things is that Gurathin's whole vibe is a man who, six years ago, had a moment where he said "I've only had these friends for one hour but if anything happens to them I'm going to shoot everyone in this room and then myself" AND NOW. NOW he is in a situation where something might happen to his friends and he is indeed gearing up to shoot everyone in the room and then himself.

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(s2e15)

I love this screenshot so much. Murdoc just vibing this whole episode while Mac and Jack haul him around was unexpectedly comedic genius.

Also, when I was first learning to rock-climb i was told to keep two out of four limbs on the wall at any given time and I kinda feel like that was what Mac and Jack were trying to do regarding Murdoc. Of course it didn't work in the end, but they did contain their pet murderer for a respectable length of time.

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Here’s the thing about natural—or unnatural, as it were—disasters.

Regular social norms go right out the fucking window.

In Tommy’s case, all it took was to see one news report, highlighting the burning husk of Starcourt, for him to turn to his girlfriend and ask “Do you think…?”

He didn’t bother to finish his sentence.

Didn’t need too—Carol immediately and instantly knew what he was on about.

They were in Tommy’s house, but that didn’t matter. Carol went right for the phone like she owned it (or like she’d been practically raised in said house given she’d known Tommy since he was seven, which meant she might as well own it.)

“He’s not answering.” She reported after a tense moment,

Tommy bit his lip.

“Think he’s still messing around with Wheeler enough to be at her house right now?” He asked, but it was a hail mary and they both knew it.

Carol rewarded his stupidity with a flat stare. “He’s not dating anyone right now, he’s person non grata with that hideous uniform.”

And for other reasons, not that either of them bothered to voice it all.

Tommy opened his mouth again, no doubt to ask something else idiotic in his growing panic, but was stopped by a finger held loftily in the air.

Carol expertly dialed with her other hand, before once again returning the phone to her ear.

This time she got someone.

“Hi Miss Maple, is Mindy home?” 

A pause, and then a rapid-fire back and forth took place, in which Carol:

Assured Miss Maple she was not at the mall.

Was happy to know Mindy was also not at the mall.

Made an appropriate gasping noise upon finding out Mindy had left only an hour before the mall had caught fire and could she talk to Mindy? Pretty please? This is so scary!

--Until Carol was finally connected to Mindy herself.

“No, I'm glad you’re safe.” Carol was saying, after another exchange that to Tommy, felt like some kind of over-complicated girl language where they both made soft reassuring noises until they finally got down to business.

Which in this case, was asking if Mindy saw Steve Harrington, their wayward third, at the mall.

“He was there.” Carol confirmed a scant few minutes later, frown slashing across her face as she hung up the phone. “She said he had the closing shift.” 

Tommy panicked harder. 

“What do we do?”

Carol, bless her, gave him the easiest answer in the world. 

With steel in her eyes, she calmly determined: “We go get him.”

They did.

xXx

Steve was not at the mall. 

One of his obnoxious children was however, and insisted Steve was both fine and had gone home. 

(As if anyone was ever fine after escaping out of a burning building.) 

Lucky for Carol’s temper and Steve both, that proved to be true. 

 “Hello Steven.” Carol greeted the second one of the Harrington’s double doors swung open. “You look like shit.” 

“‘Ro?” Steve asked in blatantly disbelief, squinting at her. 

Give how fucked up one of his eyes was, Carol wouldn’t be surprised if he honestly could’t make her out. 

Steve’s messed up face moved to the left with another blatant squint before he warbled out: “‘Tommy?” 

“Yes, yes, it’s us. Move over.” She flicked her hands into a “shoo” gesture, as Steve dutifully stepped back, allowing them in. 

“What are you doing here?” He asked, somehow managing to sound normal for that one singular line. 

Carol beelined right for the cabinet with the medkit, while Tommy went for the fridge. 

“Taking care of you, idiot. How the hell did you get a black eye in a mall fire?” 

Or choke marks, or any of his other wounds she’d taken in at first glance, none of which looked to be a burn. 

It took a long, long moment for her to get an answer, during which Steve had trailed them both to his kitchen, confused but not fighting their presence.  

“Part of the building collapsed. I--there was--” He struggled for a moment, looking lost in his own kitchen. “A lot happened.” 

“No shit.” Tommy snorted, wrapping a  hand towel around an ice pack before dutifully handing it to Steve. 

“Put that on your eye.” He muttered, when all he got was a blank stare back. 

“Oh.” Steve stared at him, without moving. “Thanks.” 

With another loud snort, Tommy shoved it in his hands, then forced Steve to actually put it against his eye. 

An interaction that did not bode well for the state of Steve’s head. 

“Take that disgusting shirt off.” Carol commanded a few seconds later as she finished laying out medical supplies on the counter. Lined them up like little soldiers gearing up to ship out. 

Bandages, neosporin, alcohol wipes and various other little bits and bobs weren’t going to fix whatever the hell happened to Steve, but given his aversion to hospitals, Carol knew this was as good as she was getting. 

“Buy me dinner first, jeez.” Steve grumbled, but thankfully, complied. 

Or tried too, anyway--he seemed to be reluctant to take the ice pack off his eye now that he figured out that's where it should go, and equally seemed to be having issues raising his arms above his shoulders. 

Carol sent a pointed look at her boyfriend, then jerked her eyes in Steve’s direction when the idiot just stared at her. 

“Let me help you.” Tommy said a moment later, right before Carol decided to throw something at him. 

It took them both a minute, during which Carol rolled her eyes twice at their incompetence, but eventually they managed to get Steve’s busted torso out in open air, and the ice pack firmly back on his eye. 

Carol turned to survey the damage, and nearly dropped the bandages she was holding in shock. 

Tommy too seemed at a loss for words, eyes wide at the sheer amount of bruising. 

Steve was a mess.

More than, a mess--this was the worst state Carol had ever seen anyone in, and the fact that he was on his feet still was a fucking miracle. 

‘Staring won’t fix it.’ Carol told herself harshly, and she knew damn well Steve wasn’t going to fix it either unless someone forced him. 

Hence of course, why they were there. 

“Steven Harrington, did you run from the paramedics?” She demanded, as she finally picked her first weapon (a disinfectant wipe) and strode over to begin her battle. “There is no way they let you go looking like this!”

“They had other priorities.” Steve said defensively, then hissed as Carol got to work. 

“You should have been one of said priorities, idiot!” 

Tommy thankfully, had decided to make himself useful by retreating to the other side of the kitchen and pulling various items out of the fridge and pantry. 

Inbetween her runs for more supplies and hissing insults at how fucking stupid Steve was, Carol identified the makings of grilled cheese sandwiches--their little groups go to favorite. 

Which was good, because it both got him out of the way and meant they could get something in Steve’s stomach before she forced every pain pill she had down his throat. 

“I’m fine guys, really.” Steve protested, as if constantly repeating it would somehow make his words true. 

Carol stared deep into his watery eyes, before jabbing a finger into the center of the largest bruise on his side. 

“Carol!” He howled, bending double and away, panting harshly. 

“That,” She informed him with a pitiless stare, “was for lying.” 

Thankfully the damage wasn’t as bad as she first thought--it seemed to be mostly just bruises. 

Possibly a cracked rib or two, at worst. 

The worst of it was Steve’s eye, and of course, his head, because there was no way he didn’t have a concussion amongst all this. 

(Only time would tell how bad it was.) 

When Steve was as doctored up as Carol could make him, she promptly turned and frog marched him to his parents' overstuffed couch.

“Sit and stay sitting, while I clean up.” She ordered, not waiting to see if Steve would obey. 

She passed Tommy on her way back to the kitchen, a plate piled high with food in his hands. 

“Make sure he takes at least a few bites.” She added, low enough so only he heard. 

He nodded, and for the first time since the three of them had fallen out, Carol felt something in her finally relax. 

Figured it was likely the same for the boys, given their dynamic had always been something one step away from a normal friendship. 

(it wasn’t the relationship her mother had once accused her of having, though granted, they had tested those waters once, but something that sat in between ‘family’ and ‘mutual ownership.’ 

Losing Steve had carved something hollow in her and Tommy both. She’d put on a good show of not caring. Pretended it hadn’t cut deep. 

Getting even a taste of it like she was? 

Carol wasn’t letting him go again.) 

Cleaning up took a minute, long enough hopefully, for the pain meds to kick in, and she didn’t feel too guilty when she came back into the living room and collapsed on the couch, next to Steve (and thus putting him in the middle, between herself and Tommy.) 

He didn’t say anything at first, just leaned into her the second she sat down, like he’d been waiting for her to return. There was a pause, like he was bracing to be pushed off, but when she scooted closer, the tension left him in a silent exhale. 

“I missed you.” He whined softly into her shoulder.

She ran her nails through his hair, silently bemoaning the state of it. “We missed you too, Stevie.”

“I want to be friends again but,” Steve sighed, and Carol watched Tommy tense, staring at Steve with such intensity one would think Steve was about to announce whether Tommy would live or die.

(Honestly, her boys were so stupid sometimes.)

“We can't be mean anymore.” Steve finished. “Not me—but also not, not you guys.”

With an (unfortunately) adorable wrinkle of his nose, he added, “We were too mean.”

Carol rolled her eyes, but only when she was certain Steve was paying more attention to her sweater than her face.

“Compromise. I’ll only be openly mean to people who deserve it.” She countered, as Tommy finally relaxed.

“I can be nicer.” He agreed, slowly sinking down into Steve’s other side.

“Way less mean. No--no more pranks or insults.” Steve continued.

Carol nodded. “Not in public.” She agreed. 

She was not giving up her own personality in private, thank you very much. If that made her an asshole that was fine--it wasn’t like she hadn't been told she was nasty before this. 

“And I’m friends with Robin now. So you hav’ to be friends with her too.” 

“Buckley?” Carol made another face, and knew she fucked up when Steve instantly tried to sit up.

“Robin Buckley. She’s really cool, and--” He started, with that kind of stubbornness Carol knew all too well meant he’d made up his mind and would refuse to change it.

“Fine, fine!” She said quickly, though not without an eye roll. “You have got to stop adopting weirdos though. The kids are enough.”

Steve slowly laid back down. 

“You know about the kids?” 

“Steve Harrington, town babysitter?” Tommy said, something teasing threading through his voice. “Everybody knows, man. You give so many rides home your beamer has gained several bus themed nicknames.” 

“Huh. I hadn’t noticed.” 

“Of course you didn’t.” Carol snorted, before laying her cheek atop Steve’s head. Tommy cuddled up close to his other side, the same way they all used to before their parents started insisting their cuddle piles were “inappropriate.”  

(That hadn’t stopped them. Nothing had stopped them, until Steve had a crisis of consciousness while dating Wheeler. 

It was only half the reason Carol wanted to put her head through a wall.) 

“That’s what you have me for.” She informed him. 

“Yeah.” Carol could feel Steve’s smile, gentle and radiant as always. “Guess I do.”

A nice, perfect moment followed, the one she knew both her and Tommy had been craving. 

Steve, of course, was a creature who required constant reassurance because his awful, neglecting parents never provided any, and she was prepared when he fought against both his pain and sleep to seek it. 

“You guys promise to be nice to Robin? And Nancy, and Jonathan?” He asked it quietly, like he wasn’t sure what they'd do if they said no. 

“Oh God,” Tommy moaned, “I have to be nice to Byers?” 

 Steve stiffened once again, snapping out; “Yes--” 

“We promise, Steve.” Carol interrupted before Tommy’s giant fat mouth could ruin things.  

She moved a hand down to rub gently at his neck, a soothing gesture. 

Tommy, of course, wasn’t done, because Tommy was a moron. “Wasn’t he the guy Wheeler cheated on you with?” 

“We said we promise.” Carol repeated, steel in her voice. 

Tommy met her eyes over Steve’s head, and was greeted with the steel core of his girlfriend’s ‘do as I say or die’ personality. 

“Fine.” Tommy conceded with a pout. “I’ll be nice to fucking Byers.”

 In a mutter he added;  

“Not happy about it though.”

“That’s okay.” Steve mumbled back, seeming to have finally tired himself out. 

“Go to sleep, Steve. We’ll be here in the morning.” Carol told him.

It was a longstanding fear of Steve’s--that people just left in the night without saying goodbye. 

(Likely because his parents kept doing it.)

It didn’t take long, Steve was the kind of guy who fell asleep quickly. 

It was a nice mend to the hole Steve’s departure in her life had made. Carol hadn’t truly been looking forward to living her life without him. 

She’d get him back however she could.

Even if it meant being nice. 

(Carol hated being nice, but she’d do it, for Steve. 

Well. Less for Steve and more to complete the Tommy-Steve-Carol super trio that Carol had lived most of her life in, at least, but she wasn’t stupid enough to say that out loud.

Not now, anyway.) 

xXx

Close to a year later, Carol stood with her arms crossed, staring coolly at one Edward Munson, drug dealer extraordinaire and former (even if he was cleared) criminal. 

He grinned at her, the jerk.

With a supernatural slowness, she turned her gaze to Steve.

“I swear to God Steve you better housebreak him before you bring him anywhere near me.” She said, loud and clear.

Hadn’t she warned him about adopting more weirdos!?

Steve winced. 

“Come on ‘Ro, you promised not to be mean.” He wheedled. 

“I promised to not be mean to people who didn’t deserve it.” She shot back, as Tommy, wisely, stayed silent behind her.

(Robin, she noted, was equally quiet on Steve’s other side.

Normally this would raise alarms—Robin was quick to defend people if she thought Carol was being shitty and as a general rule was never quiet, but it would appear in this case she’d already clocked where Carol was taking this.

Smart girl.)

“Eddie doesn’t deserve—” Steve started but she cut him off with a blue tipped nail, shoved right against his lips.

“Not yet he doesn’t. But Munson,” She leveled her glare on him now, and let him feel the weight of it. “If Steve so much as says your name in a sad tone of voice, I will make your life into the kind of hell that Jason Carver can only dream of. Understand?”  

Behind her, Tommy cracked his knuckles, which was overkill and she’d get on his ass later for being dramatic, but presently she was too busy letting Munson figure out just how serious she was. 

Eddie’s gaze traveled from Carol, to Tommy, Robin, Steve and finally back to Carol in an assessment she frankly, hadn’t thought him capable of. 

She pushed him anyway. 

“I’m waiting, Munson.” 

In a somber tone of voice, Eddie replied; “It’s gotten. Very, very gotten.” 

“Okay, I’m lost.” Steve said, because, as always, he was the last person to know he was in love.

Moron. 

“Good. As long as we understand each other. Now.” Carol tossed her hair back with a quick snap of her hand. “Milkshakes?” 

“Robin--” Steve whined, no doubt wanting her to spell things out since Carol was refusing, but thankfully Buckley also seemed to realize staying quiet was the best course of action, and instead of answering quickly got Steve off track with a jab at his milkshake order. 

Which was of course, why Carol liked her.

(She wasn’t about to share that with Robin just yet. Integrating someone into a trio like theirs was delicate business—and she had a sinking feeling Robin might be sticking around, just like Steve and Tommy had.

As for Eddie Munson? 

Only time would tell.)

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I think Leverage has a really neat take on the concept of revenge.

Because a lot of times, revenge gets framed as this inherently immoral act, like it doesn't matter how evil the person you want revenge on is, it doesn't matter that stopping them is a net positive for the world, revenge is just bad and wanting it makes you bad.

But I think that a lot of the problems with most revenge narratives come from the fact that the person/people seeking revenge put too much importance on getting revenge, but there's not enough catharsis in the actual act of taking revenge. They end up left with a whole lot of left-over righteous anger, and no acceptable targets left to vent it on. That way lies the bloodline ending feuds of greek tragedy and the like.

But Leverage says "No, actually you're right, that guy is absolutely terrible, he does need to be stopped and his victims should be awarded the catharsis of revenge." But then, instead of taking the easy way out of having Hardison siphon all the money out of their accounts, or sending Elliot over to their house with a baseball bat, they complicate the revenge plot. Instead of walking the easier path of the quick and unsatisfying revenge, they insist on poetic justice and dramatic irony and the complete and utter, very public destruction of the worst people in the world.

That's why I think Leverage feels different to, say, The Count of Monte Cristo, or other revenge-centric stories. They go the extra mile to tailor their revenge to the target, and give them Exactly what they deserve.

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Crackfic idea inspired by @darkfinch's revelations about Goran Višnjić's excessive height: Crowley from Supernatural shows up in the middle of the Big Bang Job (don't ask me why--I'm sure someone in Moreau's organization is making deals with demons in any such crossover).

Eliot is busy trying to figure why the hell Sterling is here, figure out how to protect his team from whatever new hell has broken loose today, and put his finger on what about Sterling is subtly off. Crowley is aware he has a double and entirely willing to use Sterling's identity to fuck with him and everyone else, so is doing nothing to deny that he is Interpol Agent Sterling.

Meanwhile, Moreau's initial disdain and anger at an Interpol agent daring to interfere with him have been entirely eclipsed by his incandescent fury at the fact that "Agent Sterling" is referring to him exclusively as "Damnation Moose."

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hey uh new type of ao3 spam comment just dropped. (I know it's spam because the fic they left this comment on . doesn't have chapters. lmfao). Report this kinda comment as spam and don't take it personally it is literally recycled bullshit

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love leopard seals. they are so dragon coded. that is an entire mammalian marine wyrm

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-deep breath-

A 'no questions asked' food pantry means no questions asked.

When we're stocking our pantry, we are not looking at a person's clothes or their accessories or what kind of car they drove there in. We are HAPPY to see it BEING USED AT ALL.

I don't know anyone's situation. Maybe they got that designer bag at a thrift shop. Maybe its a knockoff. Maybe it was a gift. Maybe they got it when they had money and now they don't have money. Maybe they're getting stuff for a friend.

Maybe they have plenty of money, don't need to be taking stuff from the pantry, but they are anyway because we said-

NO QUESTIONS ASKED.

Do you know what happens when someone takes from our pantry when they don't need it? We're down one item. But maybe they tell someone that the pantry is there. Or maybe they come back to it when they need it. Or maybe they throw a dollar in the donation box. Or maybe they put an item on the shelf. Or maybe they come to our food drive.

WE DONT CARE.

We don't care who used it.

We care that it was used.

Im not a cop. Don't make me do cop stuff, I wont do it.

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The urban fantasy show I actually want to see is a hospital drama with a dedicated wing for supernatural illnesses.

Vampirism. Lycanthropy. Cheap spells gone wrong. A woman brought in for her prenatal has to be told her baby is a lindworm. Someone is literally being followed by the anthropomorphic personification of the Black Death.

Someone somewhere out there is having their perception of the world irreparably shattered by the knowledge that magic is real, and at the other side is a team of doctors who have to roll their eyes and pull out Grimm’s Complete Fairy Tales because some high school kid tried to go Carrie with a cheap spellbook and turn all the kids at prom into frogs, and the doctors have to wrangle a couple dozen teenagers into admitting if they have a true love who can break the spell.

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Oshamir as Mace Windu's Grandparents - Crack Au

This idea is complete and total crack and should not be taken with any seriousness, unless you want to go wild I guess. I thought of this late last night while half asleep.

Mace Windu, renowned, respected, and strong Jedi Master of the Order. Known for his iconic purple lightsaber and having Force Visions of Shatterpoints, or moments of choice in time.

Now timeline can get a bit fuzzy, but Star Wars timeline is always fuzzy. (Plagueis is supposed to be like 15 at the time of the Acolyte so, lotsa questions bout that do I have) But it works out pretty well for Windu to be Osha and Qimir's grandson.Acolyte is set in 132 BBY and Osha is 24. Mace is born in 72 BBY, 60 years after the Acolyte. Say Osha and Qimir have multiple kids, Mace's parent could realistically be born any time between 130 BBY and 100 BBY depending on how well Osha and Qimir age due to their Force connection since we know that affects aging.

I personally like the idea of Mace being the baby of the family, youngest kid of the youngest kid type vibes. Before him, all his Aunts, Uncles, and cousins either didn't pursue a Force connection or trained with Osha and Qimir in the Force. Maybe not as Sith-inclined, but not light siders and obviously not as Jedi.

(I've got a whole bunch of headcanons about Dark/Light and the proper use and connection to the Force, ask me about them later but the gist is that the truly best way to connect to the force is to be balanced. Feeling, acknowledging, and using every emotion with no distinction of good or bad. Understanding that the universe itself is full of both good and bad and that to try and focus on either side makes you weaker.)

(Osha and Qimir are still very much “what a Jedi like you would call a Sith” but they've chilled. To the point as long as you don't touch their family you're fine. They are that old couple that will casually drop the fact they were Bonnie and Clyde if you get them reminiscing but otherwise the grandkids have no idea. Oshamir's kids though, the oldest ones experienced some wild shit but it was normalized for them and they don't realize that was weird.)

Back to Mace. This idea has Mace being taught by his grandparents as early as he can remember until the age of four when he gets a vision telling him that his greatest path toward achieving balance in the universe takes him to the Jedi. He creates a force bond with his family, but does not view it as an attachment because he understands that his highest calling and duty is to the Force itself and the path it takes him on with the Jedi. He feels no darkside temptation from his missing family because his family is there with him giving him the push and motivation towards his dreams, actively encouraging him to be the best Jedi he can be.

Now. Mace is only four when he goes to the Temple. He was not fully aware of everything going on with his grandparents. (Osha and Qimir not being obvious about their Sith-inclined tendencies. Hiding the red sabers and battle armor from the grandkids and the kids knowing to not bring it up. They still strongly despise the Jedi but what their grandson wants they will support as long as he remembers that his family always loves him and supports him and believes in him.) Mace doesn't keep it a secret that he was trained by his grandparents before coming to the temple. Openly talking about it with his fellow younglings and comparing what he was taught with what they learn at the temple.

Because of this he assumes it's just a known and recorded fact in his profile about his family. It is not. When he becomes a Padawan to Master Myr, he tells her about his family and while initially surprised, she realizes there's no negatives with Mace's connection to his family. Further solidifying in Mace's mind the difference between connection and attachment.

They struggle some through Mace's padawanship and take a visit to his family where Master Myr meets them and also misses the Sith indicators. Just seeing them as another type of Force user. This is because Jedi look for darksiders with very narrow minded cues. They think that all “darksiders” would be rampaging murderers. Not a slightly older couple surrounded by their loving family and carrying their first great grandchild around while picking sticky things out of their hair.

Sure Master Myr is a bit worried about it all, because she is a good Jedi, but she is also a person who sees the happy family and has to suppress her own twinge of jealousy at the large family joyously reuniting and celebrating the success of Mace in his journey with the Force. When Qimir steps aside next to her, and softly but with aged wisdom and surety, speaks about how their family treats the Force and finds greater connection and purpose through it. How it ranges from encouraging the crops they grow to the mechanical work intuition to their one granddaughter, Mace's older sister actually, who is off pursuing a career as an investigative journalist because her calling was similar to Mace's but she wanted to find and expose the corruption so that her little brother would know where to look and work on next.

Master Myr and Mace leave with their bond brighter and stronger than before and a promise to visit again. And if Mace assumes that Myr reported everything about their visit to the other Jedi and as such that the attitude of the Jedi about connection versus attachment is different than what it actually is, that's an issue that doesn't come up till over 20 years later when Anakin Skywalker stands before the council as a scare little boy. Mace's almost off-handed response to the reveal Anakin has no father shocks and then changes the course of the future.

Apparently responding, “So? My grandmother and her sister were Force conceived too. Force conception is rare, yes, but not impossible, just difficult. I would like to meet with his mother though, and ask what her technique was. The process my great grandmothers used was lost with the destruction of their coven when my grandmother was a child.” This response was not the response the other council members, besides Depa Billaba who had been to visit his family during her own padawan years and celebrated as part of the family, were at all expecting or supported.

Mace's further explanation of his family, something he is bewildered to learn the Jedi didn't already know about as he never felt he had kept it a secret. Depa herself chimes in about her meeting with the family and agrees with her confusion about this not being common knowledge. Yoda chimes in about his confusion and when prompted, Mace reveals his grandparents to have trained with the Jedi in their youth before both leaving as teens. He gives Osha's name and when her profile is pulled up there is a startling amount of information redacted from it, the redaction signed off by Vernestra Rwoh, who had vanished on a mission decades prior. Mace found this strange as the information he had been told about his grandparents past all seemed contradictory to what was left in the file.

At this point they shuffle out Anakin and give Obi-Wan instructions to not fuck up the kid they clearly need to do something about but just not right now. Go get him a snack or something and come back tomorrow.It's only after that Mace realizes that a looming shatterpoint had disappeared without a fuss. Strange but he'd had worse and weirder encounters with his unique visions.

How this continues is anyone's game, but a key component is Osha and Qimir coming to the temple to drop off Mace's niece who wanted to be a Jedi just like Uncle Mace. During this meeting at the temple, Yoda needs to walk into the room and immediately get into a mental conflict with Osha and Qimir. They rip the green troll apart and put him back together shaken and aware of just how disastrous everything could have gone.

The reveal that Darth Plagueis was killed decades back when the Sith tried to take one of the Aniseya family members to study and experiment on. Unfortunately this left a loose end of Palpatine who had only recently started his Sith apprenticeship when Plagueis was killed. So ripple that out however you want.

What secrets get spilled and what ones don't is all up in the air but yeah. This has been my incoherent ramblings about absolute crack Star Wars AUs.

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Careful with who you meet in a lonely alley

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An interesting AU would be Anakin resigning from the Jedi Order and becoming a wife guy, but in charge of the Naboo Defense Forces and he goes ham on that.

Obi-Wan trains Ahsoka. Sheev scrambles to put a wedge between Anakin and Padmé. A whole host of divergences occur from canon.

How many times does he have to keep kidnapping the same Senator? She’s getting better at escaping herself because she gets embarrassed at all the carnage her husband causes when he rolls up.