#caleb dune

Because here's the thing. Only Ashoka knows about the chips. Neither Cal nor Caleb have any idea. All they know is their troops(their family) turned on them.

Once, Commander Grey was Caleb's favorite person in the whole wide world. He was so cool, so different from his master. Caleb had wanted to be just like him when he grew up.

But Kanan had spent three weeks avoiding the clone troopers in the wilderness of Kaller. He had gotten himself off planet, to somewhere safe by the skin of his teeth. Over the next two years, he learned to duck and cover at the single sign of white plastoid. They only ever meant danger.

So, when Commander Grey comes to find him, in his master's room. Kanan's first reaction is to run, run and never look back accept he's trapped trapped trapped. He shoves himself against the nearest wall, as soon as the trooper comes in. Hiding himself with the force, and trying to be still and silent.

(Depa really does not know what is happening. Mace is trying to defuse the situation, both of them are shaking from the sheer amount of terror Caleb is sending down the bond. And then it's just gone because Caleb has thrown the heavest shields he has up. They would think he was dead execept they can see him.)

Cal luckly is not introduced to Jaro Tapal's clone commander right away. But he can't help the way he puts himself between any other initiate and the clones. No matter that he is shaking so badly from fear. Because his master died to buy him time to get away. to get to safety. And Cal might not have understood it then, but he does now. If he can get the clone's attention they will leave the rest of them alone.

They're in the temple, in his home. They're going to kill them all. No matter that Cal has so many fond memories of the clones carrying the younglings on thier backs. No matter that every single youngling has a favorite clone and that his had always been Commander Cody.

(The jedi healers are CONCERNED, Cal Ketis had just gone through a very tramatic force event and he really needed to rest. But he wasn't, so much terror through the little one. Jaro Tapel pracitcally scooped him up in a hug, sheilding him from anything that could harm him, but it didn't help.)

Ashoka doesn't want to let Rex out of her sight. They had to split up six months ago and she tries not to think about how she doesn't even know if he's alive or not.

She watches Cody and Obi-Wan circle each other, and aches because Cody will kill Obi-Wan. She needs to tell them about the chips, needs to start working to fix this. But she's so tired so scared and all she wants to do is sleep for a hundred years safe with her masters around her. (if she closes her eyes even for a moment she is terrifed she'll wake back up on the refugee ship, curled in a corner trying to get passage to the outer rim)

DO YOU THINK KANAN EVER ASKED REX ABOUT WHETHER OR NOT HE KNEW CLONE FORCE 99? DO YOU THINK HE ASKED REX IF HE KNEW GREY?????

.... DO YOU THINK. THAT BEFORE HE EVER EVEN MET REX, GREGOR, AND WOLFFE, HE THOUGHT ABOUT ALL THOSE SOLDIERS WHO CALLED HIM LITTLE COMMANDER AND CARRIED HIM ON THEIR SHOULDERS??? AND HOW THEY KILLED DEPA WITHOUT A SECOND THOUGHT?

Here are links to the prompt combiner and the instructions! Post your gift anytime during the month, but before Monday, August 11th! Have fun! :D 

Oh I'm glad I got you new friend ^_^ and thank you all Miners for all the headcanons I used!

Prompts: Blue + Traditions - which goes perfectly with @purple-ant no Jedi/Council bashing, an easy request ;)

Responsibility Rests Not Alone

“This message is for the Galaxy,” Sifo-Dyas’ blue hologrammed form announced from the Republic’s Emergency Broadcast. “In the past decade. In the past century, the Republic and our representatives have sauntered vaguely downward from our ideals. I have experienced this degradation my entire life.”

His transmission was technically authorized, if by himself, yet was this not in the best spirit of an REB’s use?

“Some say we have hit rock bottom,” he continued, basking in an audience who listened. Many may dismiss him, but many wasn’t all. “We have not. An abyss stretches below us. Our fingers grip the cliff’s edge. If we do not change, our galaxy will be consumed in a devastating war. Democracy will die to thunderous applause and an Empire will rise from the corpse.”

Sifo-Dyas very carefully omitted what kind of empire. The galaxy had forgotten what Sith meant. Those who hadn’t would laugh. No amount of research and documentation – including his own Master’s findings – would make enough people believe...but that was the future and the future could be changed. “I have spent all my life to prevent this future. Every member of my Order spends our lives to prevent this future.” Sifo-Dyas may have rarely agreed with the methods of his fellow Jedi and Council Members, but he won’t dismiss their efforts. Especially not now.

“Our efforts, our lives aren’t enough. I See no future where we Jedi succeed in preventing the coming Darkness.” The means of defeat shifted. Most times he saw the Stormtroopers – the blunt shoe of the empire – but intermixed were futures with droids hunting down Jedi, Mandalorians attacking the Temple, even civilians themselves in one – laughably incompetent but so many...and so few Jedi struck to kill. Sith had a thousand years to lay a trap and he, Sight properly honed in the last few, could only see the cage door fall shut, hear a lock clicking shut even now. Too late.

“That we Jedi cannot change the future doesn’t mean that future can’t be changed,” he added. Everyone watching this – citizen, senator, berated worker who stumbles home after too much overtime – you can prevent what I have Seen. The incoming war. The rising Empire. The boot-tread stomping on your face – Forever. Act against corruption: those who cage your neighbors and call it justice; those who steal your friends’ freedoms and call it safety; the one who loves to lie and teaches you how to hate. We Jedi cannot lead you in this fight, but we will stand with you, as allies.”

Sifo-Dyas let his tone drop, impressing in every word the terrible Truth he Saw every night and most days now too. “If you do not, if you sit by and continue as you have before, within the next decade we will all be enslaved – .”

“ – Those who remain alive to be enslaved.”

With a bow, the little blue holo of Jedi Councilor and Master Sifo-Dyas, died.

Outside the lonely but normally well-guarded station, Dooku, Count of Serenno, his other half, awaited Sifo-Dyas as he exited Republic’s Emergency Broadcast. “I am surprised you plead with an uncaring galaxy instead of taking Mr. Damask’s generous offer?”

“Hello to you too old friend, lovely for you to visit,” Sifo-Dyas teased gently. In truth Dooku looked neither lovely nor inclined to visit. His face held more wear and weariness than Sifo-Dyas, despite their similar ages and he dismissed his frivolity without a word. Very well, “The Jedi Council would hardly approve of such an offer, generous or otherwise.”

“That has never stopped you before. You have always been innovative. Radical.”

“Yes,” Sifo-Dyas agreed, “Better to act than be a bystander. No fate is worse than Cassandra’s, speaking futilely without a soul listening.” He deflated, “Or is there?” He looked his friend, his lover, they two pieces of one whole eye to eye, “Have I gone too far? Have I lost my way? Or my Wu Wei?”

Bitter lips thinned, “You have not gone far enough,” Dooku argued. “You refused the army of your visions. The army which will protect the Republic.”

Sifo-Dyas almost hadn’t. Meeting Hego Damask for the contract hadn’t felt like sitting down to a negotiating table but like a drowning man thrown a lifeline. He had grasped that rope, the only Councilor who would dare sign such a thing –

– and hesitated, finger hovering above the contract, because he was the only Jedi Councilor who would sign such a thing. How often had he decried them for not listening to him but there he had sat, plugging his ears from his fellow Jedi. “We are peacekeepers, Doo.” or Sifo-Dyas was, Dooku had left the Jedi Order. He felt the first stirrings of foreboding. “How can I betray our most ancient and sacred tradition?”

“Even if it saves the Galaxy?” Dooku asked.

Could a galaxy be saved by abandoning their oldest mandate? “Being right about the problem doesn’t make us right about the solution.”

Suffocating silence lingered. More uncertainty crept in. Had Damask handed him a lifeline?

“Hego Damask’s offer was generous,” Dooku tried. “You would put your faith in the Senate? Those corrupt politicians would gleefully dine with the Sith provided a Dark Lord picked up the tab and you would stay to defend them?”

Quietly, Sifo-Dyas answered, “A people are not their poor representation.”

“Ah, of course, the vaulted People,” Dooku sneered, “What a trite ideal for an apathetic citizenry who would see every Jedi in the Order HANG before they lift a finger in support!”

“Yes,” Sifo-Dyas knew the future better than Dooku, “They would.” He met that dark, fervent stare with the calm of one who had picked their path and would walk it to death. “And if we become just as apathetic in response? Let us hang. Let us hang before we turn our backs on people we swore to defend.”

Dooku weakened glare turned toward the indigo embroidery on Sifo-Dyas’ collar, suddenly fascinated.

“The wealthy are always known for their generosity, aren’t they,” Sifo-Dyas added with calm he didn’t feel. “I was so close to agreeing, on the negotiating table. So desperate. But, this army would take ten years to grow up. I could take a day to think.” It hadn’t taken a day. As soon as he was alone in his star-ship, with only hyperspace and auto-pilot to distract him, all the things a wealthy men would get out of supporting an army rushed in. His certainty shrank.

“And you think this is better? A plea for help thrust out into the deaf void,” Dooku gestured to the star-studded space outside tinted windows. “They won’t listen. None of them.”

“Many won’t,” Sifo-Dyas agreed, “Even with the documents and evidence I dumped with my message, but I meant what I said: we Jedi can’t support the entire Republic alone. That doesn’t mean the Republic will Fall.”

“It won’t work!” Dooku thrust the contract in his face, a blank line awaiting Sifo-Dyas’ signature. “This is the only way!”

Sifo-Dyas for the first time he could remember, beheld a stranger, eyes bright, teeth bared, hands hooked around the contract like a sailor grasped a lifeline –

– or a hangman the noose.

“Dooku,” his voice softened with horror. His previous interpretation of several terrible visions suddenly tilted ninety degrees. He took the smallest, least noticeable step back and voiced his newest, deepest, most unbelievable fear. “Sith believe in such absolutes.”

The silence between them died to an all-too familiar hiss of ignited plasma – still blue, Sifo-Dyas’ relief as sharp as his partner’s thrust, the blade still shone like the brightest star

(brightest stars become black holes when they die)

as Dooku’s lunge ate the space between them fast as teleportation. His lead foot landed behind where Sifo Dyas stood in a move that, if the thrust missed, would have allowed Dooku to throw him to the cold metal floor and cleave his head off.

But Sifo-Dyas didn’t stand there. He sprung to the left to evade a stroke he’d only thought possible if he himself Fell. He stood still in the Light. He was One with the Force. Dooku, for all his blade shone Jedi-blue, had just tried to murder him with the very blade he’d once entrusted with him. “This too I foresaw,” Sifo-Dyas confessed to the man he’d sworn a Concordance of Fealty to.

“But I always thought I would Fall.”

Dooku’s answer was all wrath, a devastating slash that would cleave Sifo-Dyas from shoulder to hip. Would, but done too slowly. Again Sifo-Dyas gave way to the Master of Makashi. The fabric of his robes curled black, marking the trail of the saber’s tip from the careful embroidery of his collar done by his own hand down below the belt.

. Metal floor hissed as it dissolved into vapor at the touch of a lightsaber.

“Dooku, please, let us help you?”

“Us?”

“Us. Me. Yoda. Lene. Jo. Mace. Do you think your Master would toss you aside,” as you have his teachings went unsaid, “Do you think so little of your family?”

The blue blade stayed low, tip hovering above the floor. “No.” His eyes grew wet, “All of you are a credit to the Council.”

“And you the best of us,” Sifo-Dyas coaxed.

“Once,” the tip snapped upwards to catch the Seer off guard.

But Sifo-Dyas was the best Seer of this dying era. Dooku’s saber met his ignited blade.

“A ghost ship for a ghost port,” Sifo-Dyas mused as the vessel, sans (or removed) of the standard trackers and identification chips – quite the fashion these days – came in for a landing.

“The Ghost,” the Captain replied, “Are we clear for a landing?”

“One moment, let me move one of the houses.” This port was a literal one, meant for sea-craft not for sky, and a ramshackle mess masquerading as one besides. Sifo-Dyas asked the Force to gently nudge two houses no one ever used anymore to clear a bit more space. For one, even a gentle nudge was too much. The condemnable building collapsed into a stack of wood and refuse. Oh well, fodder for those who remained. He might well poke around and see if anything could shore up his ramshackle place. But later.

“You sure these docks will hold?” The Ghost’s Captain asked. Sifo-Dyas could feel her trepidation, these old docks were meant for water-based ships and boats after all, not aerial ones.

“Yours will hold well enough, now those pesky tie-fighters always seemed to sink for some strange reason,” the lines of his face resolved into a smirk no one alive would recognize.

“Of course, well that’s the Empire for you.”

Neither feared any of this getting back to said empire. Not everyone had bought Palpatine’s lies of a Separatist attack on the Jedi Temple. The Planet of Mon Cala had risen up that very day, joined by Alderaan in their fervor and too many young bold knights.

They had almost carried the day.

“A moment and I’ll join you.” Sifo-Dyas clicked off his comm.

Well, a few moments. He wasn’t cavorting around the Galaxy like some Jedi. Yoda was right about canes – no substitute for a good one. Hoverchairs were more convenient, especially around these docks, but even the older models broke down too fast for the few mechanically-inclined youngsters around here to manage. He flicked the comms to local broadcasting without fear. No one who had survived the empire’s costly invasion would bother informing Coruscant, let alone Palpatine. “Friendlies inbound with a new student.” There. Anyone who wanted to visit could hobble their own way out.

“New student?” Councilor Tano met him half-way, Jedi robes exchanged for something befitting Mon Cala, a necklace made of random stones, preserved flowers and carefully folded notes. Obi Wan and Bant began the tradition, though their paths rarely crossed now. “Perhaps you should wait…” she hesitated.

“Oh no,” he braced one hand on another abandoned shack and swung for her shins, “Time and Sith have fossilized me enough. Not about to help them along. I may not be a Fulcrum running around the galaxy but I can still get around.”

“Does the Source of Fulcrums want a hand?”

“Oh well since you have one to spare.” Only one hand now, lightsabers were great for taking limbs and Sith for. Well...

Beyond the old boards and the gentle lapping waves of the inlet bay the empire still did it’s damnest to snuff out the few Jedi left and in the meantime snuffing out a great many other peoples, cultures, biomes, planets. Palpatine always seemed to have more foes and would invent new ones if there was a lack. Not that he had to worry about that.

Councilor Tano followed his gaze to the sky, to the void beyond it where the Sith ruled with an iron fist. Once, The Ghost would’ve come home to a bastion of Light and a thousand years of happy memories, nearly a century of his own. Once, Ahsoka Tano would’ve been knighted there, not in desperation by a ghost.

“I heard Sidious took the Jedi Council Chambers and turned them into a throne room.”

“No doubt to cower behind its protections,” Sifo-Dyas said, “I don’t need my abilities to See that.”

“And here I was going to wish you a happy birthday. My apologies for the lack of present and cake.”

“I can forgive the first but no cake? Ahsoka do you hold nothing in your heart for me?” His words, playfully plaintive, echoed too loudly across lonely shores. Ahsoka’s Force Presence strayed towards the darkness of ocean depths. “None of that, things are better than in my visions. The Galaxy has made a difference, however little it may seem.”

“Yet the Sith reign, as you foresaw. And Anakin…”

“I saw the Jedi Temple going up in flames yes, as everyone inside died and the Galaxy applauded. Mon Cala wouldn’t rise up until three years after our Order’s destruction and Alderaan,” he shook his head, that vision had the power to chill him decades later. “It’s Fate is still a kinder one for having joined this planet, than it would have been.” And Bant lived too, he shook off the chill of what could have been. “Too easy to compare the here and now to the glorious, shining past – especially if it was glorious and shining – and lose hope. I was inducted into the Jedi Order during the last glow of its golden era, taught by one of the Knights of the High Republic. I saw through foresight and hindsight it’s slow slide into the landfill of banal corruption and capitalism. How much worse it all seemed compared to the enlightenment of my youth.” Sifo-Dyas wondered if that’s why he Fell.

“You didn’t Fall,” they both knew who his thoughts strayed to. “He did. He chose to Fall.”

“So did Anakin,” Sifo-Dyas returned gently. For a moment they walked the same path in body and the Force – each bonded to one who had lost themselves in the Dark. And would forever.

“So you did Doo, Do-doo-Do-Doo Dooku. You succeeded after all. Your empire. Such as it is,” He laughed, “Yet we live to see it.”

“Who are you talking to?” young Hera snapped Sifo-Dyas out of his memories. That was fine. He needed snapping.

“Oh, no one alive.”

Beside her Caleb clearly wanted to roll his eyes, “Someone needs to pull you out of your blues.” Beside him Tano smirked.

Sifo-Dyas fingered the edges of his deep indigo robes, his last present in fact, and smirked. “How indecent.”

That did get him an eye-roll. “Councilor Tano,” he turned away from Sifo-Dyas, “I’ve brought someone.”

“Someone,” Sifo-Dyas teased, “No need for suspense. Come out Ezra.”

The teen obeyed only out of curiosity. Sifo-Dyas couldn’t remember what that was like. “Who’re you?”

Caleb grimaced at the disrespect but Sifo-Dyas and Ahsoka only laughed. He couldn’t kneel as he once had but his cane helped with that too. “I, young initiate, am an old gremlin. Or if you want to put it more kindly: an elegant relic of a bygone era.”

“Really battered relics.”

“Ezra!”

Sifo-Dyas laughed again and tapped what remained of his leg. “A gift from an old friend.”

Ezra grimaced, “Some friend. If I’m a Jedi, will I grow up to be like you?”

“Well you might grow down to be like Master Yoda,” Ahsoka teased.

“Such teasing for such a serious time,” Sifo-Dyas mock-lectured. “I believe you are here to officially take someone as your Padawan,” His attention – and brightening Force Presence – turned to Caleb. “And we might manage a quota of Council members to witness the old ceremony. We’ve already nailed down Ahsoka.”

“Can I hitch a ride out of here on The Ghost?”

“Sure,” Hera said, the traitor.

“Plan to abandon me why don’t you,” he grumbled.

"As if Depa and Mace won't keep you company. They wouldn't miss this for the galaxy."

"Ah, you have me there."

His cane made rising easier. Ahsoka’s presence made it painless. He wouldn’t be alone for long. Not that he ever was, a Seer was too valuable an advisor to rot away on some swamp planet.

The Empire may reign, may do it’s damnest to snuff out traditions, but the Jedi stubbornly live on.

What Could Have been

There are also various age ranges of padawans taken on, so we can assume that the Jedi have experience of all sorts of children’s ages. Obi-Wan took on Anakin when he was very young, Caleb was young when Deppa took him on, etc., Obi-Wan’s handling of numa, even for .25 seconds and his demeanor around her shows that he’s not bothered by children. He was even excited when Ahsoka arrived, because he thought she was his padawan. 

Ventress’s former masters literally picked her up off the street and raised her on the same planet. He didn’t go there to take care of a child/raise a child, but he accepted the responsibility with absolutely no issue. 

Jedi will find force sensitive children and take them with the expectation that they will be raising them. They don’t view child raising as an issue, it’s more of a happy obligation. 

Like we see the famous Jedi and adult Jedi, but the Jedi also have a culture in which they raise children. 

It’s also a very communal thing--not one Jedi is expected to shoulder the responsibility of a padawan alone, and often other Jedi will help completely unprompted. So while there’s very much ‘parent-child’ dynamics, it’s also the ‘it takes a village’ mindset, with every Padawan being influenced by different people. 

I wonder if the Jedi take child rearing classes, or if they learn how to take care of children by watching the people around them. How do they prepare themselves for the role? 

I also like the age variety amongsts masters--some are very young, some are very old, and some are in the middle. 

I just like the Jedi as a family unit, because that’s clearly what they are.

Even when finding out he’ll have his own kids, past the initial shock, Anakin is happy when Padme tells him. He’s not freaked out, or doesn’t doubt his position as a father because Anakin comes from a culture where caring for children is a thing. Anakin most likely has experience in this. It’s just natural to him. He partially raised Ahsoka!

For your Animagous AU

(l'm especially crusius about Caleb)

Mace is already established as a bear in this series. He big. Big boy. Only the force sensitives have animagus forms and idk enough about Ponds and the rest but I’m not gonna lie, if I made Ponds force sensitive I’d be tempted to make him a frog. I’m. Mean. Like that. I made Fox a Fox. I made Rex a rex rabbit. I am. An asshole. Lmao.

Caleb is a direwolf (I would say lothwolf but any SW animals aren’t animaguss and any animals we know of are animaguss). Lanky boy. Trips over his giant paws. Ezra is a grey housecat. The type that bites you after every poke.