Call me Feather! About me: Christian, female, INFJ, born 1988, lives in mid-south U.S.A., has chronic pain + fatigue. I draw and write sometimes, with a focus on familial love, inside and outside of fandoms.
Rating: G (as long as it's understood that Protective Dad Jango is indeed correct here, and you should most definitely not try to chase fireworks, on the off-chance you have a jetpack or something similar!)
Characters: Jango Fett (who is a much kinder character in my AU, and sided with his clones and the Republic), Boba Fett, Colt, Havoc, Blitz, and some OC kids
Continue reading below, or READ ON AO3 HERE
~~~
Jango was getting used to being the patriarch of his own little clan. He had Boba, he had the Rancor Battalion trio he had recently adopted as adults, and he even had the latter three’s own adopted children—several cute cadets, and two little foundling girls!
As he lazed in his bed on Concord Dawn, he still got jumpscared this particular morning, however. The boys were all little echoes of himself, and Alma was a Kaminoan, so she also registered as a normal sight in his brain by now. But Taki… well, bless her, he loved her, and her voice was as sweet as any other Mandalorian ad’ika’s he might meet in the village streets. But her gold, sparkly, pupil-less Arcona eyes were a bit disconcerting to wake to, pressed almost on top of Jango’s own brown human ones today.
“Gy-AHH-huh!” Jango, to his credit, recovered himself rapidly, yawning over the covers. “Mmmff… Taki, it’s a holiday, I thought we were all gonna sleep in…”
The little girl’s voice was urgent, tugging on the bedsheets with her tiny, spidery brown hands. “Grampa Jang! Buir an’ Ba’vadu Bo say they’re gonna go light fireworks an’ chase after ‘em with their jetpacks! Why can’t Salsa an’ me have jetpacks toooooo?!” she cried.
Jango shot straight up at this, suddenly very much awake. “WHAT?!!!” he thundered out of bed, nearly sending Taki flying. He barely noticed that her brother, little cadet Salsa, was indeed also there, peering hopefully over the side of Jango’s bed with her.
The clone host had grown quite close to the Rancor trio, during the final stages of the war, there on Kamino. He was getting more comfortable with calling any clone who wanted to be his “son,” but he had decided to go one step further, and make it official, in the case of Colt, Havoc, and Blitz. They got along very well with both him and Boba, and he thought he knew them deeply.
Well, he did, in many ways, and loved them dearly of course—but he had only observed them in the stricter setting of Kamino, instead of in the battlefield, on the other planets the ARCs had visited. And so it was only now—out here on Concord Dawn, in the happy freedom of the post-war world—that Jango was learning what Colt and Blitz apparently already knew: how Havoc got his name.
The blue Rancor lived up to it with every fiber of his being. And apparently had even been corrupting Boba now, dang him! As well as his own ade, Salsa and Taki.
Jango would not waste time explaining to the latter right now that they were not allowed jetpacks until their own verd’goten. He had his own sons to deal with at the moment. The very harried head-of-household nearly tripped out the front door, dancing in one pant-leg, as he somehow attempted to get his boots on while running.
“PUT THAT DOWN RIGHT NOW!!” Jango yelled to Boba and Havoc on the front lawn. The two hadn’t even gotten the firework in place yet, but the eldest Mandalorian’s brain was working faster than his eyes, at the moment.
“But it’s Dawnfounder’s Day!” Havoc spread his gloved hands, indeed almost chuckling in that same Dawn drawl that Jango and all his progeny shared—clearly unfazed by said progenitor-cum-father’s temper. “We’re allowed fireworks, aren’t we?”
“We will have them tonight, when it’s properly dark, and we will NOT get ourselves KARKING BLOWN UP by flying after them like a right bunch of shebese!!” Jango’s brown eyes were livid with paternal fright.
It was Havoc’s turn to turn a little paternal then, as he now crossed his muscular arms in a huff. “Don’t cuss in front of my kids, Buir!” he narrowed his eyes.
But Jango wasn’t through. “I will PERSONALLY recite to Taki and Salsa every single curse word that I KNOW, in Basic AND in Mando’a, and then get out a dictionary and see if there are somehow any curse words left that I DON’T know, and then I’ll teach those to them TOO, if you don’t take your jetpacks off RIGHT NOW!!” he thunked his fist several times in his palm as he spoke, for emphasis.
Boba intervened, spreading his own little green-armored limbs and waving them around. He still had the cutest giggle—at fourteen, he was the only one of the children who had already gone through his verd’goten, and wore the same adult armor as his father and now-adopted, age-accelerated brothers. “We were gonna keep a safe distance, Buir!” he reassured, as unafraid of Jango’s bark as Havoc was. “Like, light ‘em on a long fuse, an’ then run backwards and take off from the next field over!”
But Jango would not be placated. “I DON’T CARE!!” he flung his own armored limbs (a paler, more silvery blue than Havoc’s) in exasperation. “No distance is long enough for that to be safe!! Bob’ika, what did we drill together all those years for? I THOUGHT I raised you to be more cautious than this!”
The differences in Boba’s and the other clones’ upbringing had been talked through, healed, understood. Jango, to his credit, had worked to ensure all four of his now-children felt loved and on equal standing with each other. All of them acknowledged that the Rancors had grown up as normal clone soldiers, and Jango had decided to make them his sons later in life, while Boba had grown up as Jango’s from the cradle. So, certain aspects of their relationship would always be different. But the elder Mandalorian did not want the Rancors, or Boba for that matter, to feel he was playing favorites with either of the others. Thankfully, love knitted them all together now, differences and all—enough so that the subject was occasionally open for teasing.
As Havoc did, liberally. “You didn’t raise US to—” he began to interject, waggling his eyebrows.
“And YOU!!—” Jango spun around from Boba to Havoc, waggling his eyebrow right back, and poking an accusing finger straight into Havoc’s blue kar’ta beskar. “You are a trained soldier who ought to know better!” he panted and puffed, barely catching his breath enough to cross his own arms now. “I may not’ve guided you personally, and taught you bounty-hunter tricks in my own apartment like I did with Boba. But I know scragged well I taught you boys common sense and battlefield safety in all your training holovids—”
“None of your training vids ever told us not to race fireworks with jetpacks, Prime-pa!” Havoc couldn’t help but giggle as merrily as Boba, half-covering his mouth, and using the nickname he knew always drove Jango up a tree.
“I didn’t think I needed to explain that sapients should not run, jump, or fly in any way closer to live explosives, instead of further away from them!!!” Jango shrieked, nearly to tears. “It should go without saying!!!” He pulled fistfuls of his curls at the temples.
How. HOW could someone who was literally his biological duplicate have inherited so little of his shrewd sense?!! Jango had done plenty of dangerous things throughout his career, yes indeed, but at least he had always been SELF-AWARE when he did them!!...
Thankfully, Colt had moseyed over, having heard the noise. When he found out what Havoc and Boba had been up to, he was nearly as horrified as their buir, and took to chiding them, hands on red-armored hips. And somehow, both Havoc and Boba took his reprimands a bit more seriously.
Yes, good for you, Colt. A soldier with an actual HEAD on his shoulders! PROPER clone of mine, strong mind and body! Perfect leader. GOOD Colt. Jango finally caught his breath, grateful for the lad.
Colt’s own boys, Dash, Dance, and Prance, had toddled behind him, and now stood with Taki and Salsa, their brown eyes big and wide (and dreadfully cute) as theirs. “…C’n we at least have one early firework, Ba’buir?” Dance pleaded, rocking back on his little heels.
Jango melted at being called “Grandpa” in Mando’a—his heart swelling to the tune he’d never actually known he would earn, one day. He cracked a smile at last. “ALL right,” he sighed, “one. And I’ll light it, and there will be no jetpacks for ANYone.” He looked expectantly over at Boba and Havoc.
The children’s eyes (and perhaps Colt’s earlier lecturing) made their father and small uncle give in. Havoc and Boba thunked their blue and green jetpacks to the ground.
Smiling in satisfaction, Jango knelt, situated the first firework in their small family cannon-launcher, and lit it, rolling back. They all watched as the sparkles lit up the day-blue sky, with a cheerful screech and a “pop” and a flowery crackle.
It wasn’t as gloriously bright and colorful as it would seem against the black of night, but there were many more fireworks saved up for that purpose. And at least it made the impatient children cheer, giving them a preview for that evening. “Wheeeeeeeee!!...” Taki and the cadets danced around, while Blitz’s little Alma also giggled, and clapped her lanky hands from the table on the porch.
***
A few minutes later, Jango was lounging in one of the lawn-chairs set up next to the outdoor table, for their family’s little summertime celebration today. Colt came up and nudged him. “You want I should make the baked beans an’ barbeque today, Dad?” he chuckled.
Jango looked up at the lad very fondly again, managing a rich chuckle of his own. “Elek,” yes, he sighed thankfully, “bless you, Colt.” For the second time that day, he was grateful for the head Rancor’s responsible streak. Though in a sense, Boba was the “first brother,” in most ways Colt had slipped into the mold of the eldest child, and did a splendid job helping Jango run the household. He even was the most talented cook among them, learning all of Jango’s old recipes with delight. The elder Fett couldn’t have been more proud of him.
Not to be outdone, though, Blitz—the baby of the Rancors—sidled up and placed a glass in Jango’s hand. “Kullgroonade!” he announced, grinning with all the sunshiny warmth of his yellow armor. “Alma an’ I made it for later today.”
Jango shifted a bit forward in the chair, and smiled at the citrusy drink—it was a nice bright color, kullgroons growing yellow like Blitz’s paint, but with just a hint of green in them, too. And the drink was all nice and cold and sparkly in the sun, loaded with ice.
Alma was nearly as tall as Jango and the grown clones, now, despite being a child, thanks to the height difference in their species. But she still made such a cute picture, propping herself up on Jango’s chair-arm, big black Kaminoan eyes nearly booping into his. “Ya like it, Grampa?” she beamed as wide as him and Blitz, with her species’ split lip.
Jango took that as his cue to try the drink. He took a nice, long sip. “Ahhh… good. Sweet, but plenty tangy too!” he approved, planting a little kiss on his adopted granddaughter’s cheek. “Just like all good Mandalorian girls are s’posed to be,” he winked, making her giggle happily.
He couldn’t WAIT to see her in a helmet of her own. Alma’s thirteenth birthday was still a few years off, but Jango had already given Kaminoan youth measurements to the town armorer. Making a Mandalorian helmet and armor for a non-humanoid species was always rather fascinating. And he couldn’t help but share Blitz’s pride, in transferring THEIR ways onto a Kaminoan, after the clones had sometimes been under certain of the less-nice Kaminoans’ heels.
After giving Alma another grandfatherly nuzzle, his rough face twinkly in the sun, Jango let the happy child skip off with her buir. He raised his arm, crooked, up to said sun meanwhile, to keep it out of his eyes. Jango squinted at his own reflection, in his shiny silver wristguards.
…He was only forty-four standard years old, going on forty-five—the fact of cloning and all had allowed him to become a grandfather before many men’s time. And yet he was indeed starting to look like a “normal” grandfather, nevertheless. He had sprouted some silver streaks in his curly black hair, these past few years—and he was getting a little paunchy too, his breastplate now propped comfortably upward on a cloth extension, instead of tucking neatly into his belt, like it once did.
Blitz was the chubbiest of his four sons, now, being the most gluttonous of the Rancors. It seemed most clones did tend to gain weight, after the war, Jango had observed of his progeny (so he didn’t feel too bad about gaining some himself—it apparently was in his blood)—but Blitz was one of those who absolutely delighted in food, and so had really packed it on, needing even more of an extension for his armor than Jango had, so far.
Well, who could blame him, with both Colt and Jango as the family cooks? the patriarch flattered himself. Fighting techniques weren’t his ONLY skills!
Jango settled back in the chair, and enjoyed the warm sunbeams for a moment, still gathering his breath from earlier that morning.
…Yes, his belly he blamed on Colt and Blitz. His gray hairs, meanwhile, he blamed entirely on Havoc and Boba. Especially Havoc.
Jango raised his vambrace back up again, to inspect the latter. He nearly panicked, clawing at one side of his hairline—oh, those were new, he just KNEW it. At least twenty must have sprouted in the last hour!
He slammed his head back in the lawn-chair, and took a large chug of the kullgroonade.
In the homestead’s foyer, there was a metal plate, adorned with the Fett clan’s house rules. Mostly Mandalorian sayings about the virtues of family and bravery.
Jango was going to engrave “DO NOT CHASE FIREWORKS” to the bottom of the list with this vambrace’s kriffing blowtorch!
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I've seen your post about sending an ask about anyone from the families belonging to your lovely and brilliant AU and I've got couple of questions about the Corrie twins, Thorn and Thire. 😁
1. What are their favourite down time activities, now that they don't have to worry about being soldiers in a war?
2. What is their favourite food?
3. What are their personalities like?
4. Who is the older and who is the younger twin?
5. Do they form a cuddle pile to comfort each other when they have nightmares?
6. Are they also tube-twins like Fives and Echo?
7. If they argue over something (because all siblings fight sometimes) what will they do to settle the conflict or if they hurt each other's feelings in the process?
8. About their pet tookas Grapejuice and Sunburst (love their names btw): did Thorn and Thire adopt them? As a fellow cat (and Tooka) lover I was delighted to know they have pet tookas. ☺️
9. Are Grapejuice and Sunburst also siblings?
And the last question unrelated to the Corries: 10. Are there any other clone twins in your AU besides Fives & Echo and Thorn & Thire? I absolutely adore the concept of clone twins. 🥰
So, these are all the question I have come up with. Also, there is so much to know about the other families that I will most likely send an ask again about them as well. It is just so all very interesting. 😊 Have I mentioned that I love your AU very much ? Clones deserve the peace, comfort and families they got to build. ❤️
Thank you and have a nice morning/day/evening or night.
Sincerely,
Luna
Hi Luna! 😁 Oh my goodness, what a delightful bunch of questions! 💖
1. Thorn and Thire are a little different in that Thorn is quite energetic and athletic, while Thire is a relaxed couch-potato (as you can tell by their very different post-war physiques)--so as far as what they tend to do separately, Thorn is a bit of an acrobat, and loves running, twirling, and tumbling around at the gym, while Thire enjoys watching a lot of holovision shows in their living room. What they like to do together meanwhile, is to go visit a lot of different restaurants (Coruscant has so many, they like to try to discover a new one at least once a week!), and cuddle and read together in the evenings (one will hold the datapad, and the other will nod when it's time to hit the next-page button). 😊
2. Thire is partial to nerfburgers of all sorts (he's always finding new specialty ones to try, with different sauces and toppings), and Thorn likes all sorts of fruit syrups--whether he's eating a leafy salad or an ice-cream sundae, he just likes fruit-flavored drizzles on everything! He even flavors his water with them.
3. They are both really friendly, approachable, optimistic sweethearts, even by clone standards in my fic-verse. Thorn is a bit more impetuous, while Thire is more level-headed (and tends to be the "big brother" and voice of caution of the whole Corrie team), but they are both rays of sunshine, and excellent to talk to when you've had a hard day. ❤️ (They helped to "ground" the rather grumpy Fox a lot during the war, as his second-in-command duo, aiding him both in duties and emotionally.)
4. I hadn't actually thought of that before, but my gut is saying Thire is the older twin! I guess because I see him as the "leader" of the duo, sort of the "more responsible big brother" type, like I said. (Same goes for Fives--I would imagine he's the older twin for him and Echo meanwhile.)
5. Of COURSE they do! Nearly ALL clones do that for their brothers in my 'verse. Whether they're sad and scared because of a nightmare, or just feeling happy, clones LOVE to cuddle almost as a rule, and Thorn and Thire are actually among the very cuddliest even by those standards! 🥰 Thire has a big, soft tummy (post-war) that he loves to let Thorn and their other family members use as a pillow (and he'll definitely pull Thorn in close and rock him back to sleep, after a bad dream ❤️). Thorn and Thire give each other platonic kisses (on the cheeks, noses, etc.) a lot too--Thorn is a big kisser in my mind, for some reason.
6. Yes, but with a twist! Fives and Echo are "identical tube-twins," while Thorn and Thire are "fraternal tube-twins." I know some people like to imagine the rare blond clones are "bleach blonds," but I always like to imagine they're actually natural blonds, just born that way, in my AU. What with Temuera Morrison having a blonde sister in real life, I think that means Jango could be the carrier of a recessive blond gene, so once in a great long while (about one in every 100 clone births), a clone will manifest that, despite looking like his brothers in every other way. Rex is obviously the most famous one, and I went with the common fanon of Thorn being another. What this means for how he and Thire (who obviously is a more "normal" black-haired clone) were born, is that they must have come from different cells of Jango's. So in short, while I imagine Echo and Fives were born from the same cell, which then split within the tube, Thorn and Thire started as two separate cells, that a distracted Kaminoan accidentally put into the same tube.
7. Whichever one feels he must apologize first probably starts poking the other one gingerly on the shoulder, after an hour or so, and says he's sorry, and they just hug it out. If they really are having trouble finding a resolution (this would only happen rarely), I actually imagine Fox would be the first brother to get involved (one of them would either go to him, or he'd just step in when he noticed on his own). Even though he's prone to being grumpy, he's authoritative and knows them both very well, and would probably offer a firm-and-no-nonsense-but-loving perspective to help them get over it.
8. Heehee, I'm glad you like the kitty names (and kitties in general)! 🤭 Well, Saltshaker (Fox's tooka) was an adult stray who started hanging around the station midway through the war, and the Corries started feeding him, and Fox bonded with him and decided to take him home after the war. Sunburn also came from the streets, but as a tiny kitten--Thorn found him behind a dumpster towards the end of the war, and hid him in his helmet and fed him milk with an eyedropper, and wouldn't let anyone take him from him! Grapejuice, a female, was the last addition to the family; a few months after the war ended, Thire was starting to get jealous that Sunburn was "Thorn's tooka" specifically, so they went to a tooka cafe, and Thire came home with Grapejuice, who is a lazy and mellow sweetheart just like him. 😊
9. No (see the origins above), at least biologically--but I'm sure Thorn and Thire do refer to them as "brother and sister" now, since they're adopted into the same family!
10. I hadn't actually thought of some specific named ones yet, but "tube-twins" (of both the "identical" and the "fraternal" varieties) definitely do happen enough that there are probably thousands more of them, spread throughout the galaxy (in my AU, and I daresay it would be logical even in canon)! I do have at least a few more clones who are (in my mind) "inseparable duos," on my big family list--Stak and Razor, Tup and Dogma, Bop and Widget (what I named the two clones checking on the sentry droid in "Cloak of Darkness"), Matchstick and Broadside… I don't think ALL of them would be twins, but maybe some are? You know what, you convinced me--let's say Stak and Razor are twins in my world now too! 😊
11. This didn't come up in any of your questions, but I felt like I should add a final note about Thire here, just so you and everyone else reading this get the proper image/visuals for "my version" of him--in Gently Twinkling Stars (my fanwork AU), Thire has a permanent limp due to his injury in "Ambush," and continues to use a crutch (a new one, obviously, though he still saved the "gun-crutch" to mount on the wall for sentimental value, because Yoda's kindness touched him so). I was a little worried at first, that people might take this the wrong way--I'm not meaning to send some sort of ableist message that all crutch-users are automatically going to be chubby couch-potatoes like Thire! Those two aspects of his personality just occurred independently in my mind, as I was making up headcanons about him--and I liked who he was starting to become in my imagination, and didn't want to change either aspect. (Qui-Gon Jinn, who also lives in my AU, got one leg completely lopped off by Darth Maul, and is therefore also a crutch-user; and he still has roughly the same physique he had in The Phantom Menace, and remains fairly active around the Jedi Temple. So, he's an opposite example to Thire.)
In some ways, all these little headcanons I've started to make about Thire have suggested a rather sweet story, to me--he had to take things easy after his injury, consigned to office-work for Fox, but he didn't take that as a crushing failure, like some other clones might have--he was happy with his lot, and embraced it, and found fulfilment in just being a patient ear and a comforting shoulder for his brothers. (Which isn't to say he can't still pick up a blaster and deliver another "SUCK LASER, CLANKER!!" if provoked by an enemy droid, of course! Like any trooper, Thire will always protect himself and his family!)
I guess that's why Thire has become one of my favorites lately--all of these little post-"Ambush" things are just aspects I made up, of course, I know they're not canon, but they make me identify with him a lot, now. I don't have a leg injury and don't use a crutch myself, but I do have chronic fatigue and chronic pain, and have to rest around the house a lot (and am also overweight myself). But I'm not angry about it, I'm happy enjoying the little things like TV shows and food and music, and I also love to cuddle, and see spreading comfort to others as the best thing I can do with my life. So, (my AU version of) Thire is like me in all those regards. I really do need to get a proper fic written soon, about him and his beloved twin Thorn, since I love him so much (as you can tell)!! Just have to wait for that proper "inspiration nugget" to strike!…
Anyways, thank you so much again! It warms my heart so much that you enjoy my happy-endings-for-everyone clone AU so much, Luna! You are a dear, and made my week by asking all this! 🤗 Absolutely, send any other questions you like my way any time you want, and you have a lovely week! 💖
(Here's the list of clone family groups in my Gently Twinkling Stars AU, for anyone else reading this who would like to send in questions too! Please keep them coming, everyone! 😊)
Speaking as a Christian, I really dislike a certain brand of Christian rhetoric that pits happiness and joy against each other, like they're some sort of opposites.
Happiness is taking delight or comfort in something.
Joy is knowing you'll have it in eternity.
In Heaven, happiness and joy will be one and the same.
On Earth, sometimes it's necessary to postpone something you enjoy, when circumstances would lead to sin or destruction (or when the thing you enjoy is actually something genuinely harmful to you or others by its very nature, in which case you need to learn to find enjoyment in more wholesome things, and ask God to help you do so). But that's it.
Happiness is God's very nature, taking delight in us, His children.
I frankly think Heaven is going to be a lot of feasting, laughing, and cuddling, with our Father and with each other, and if you think those things are "bad" or "shallow," you've really misunderstood what we're made for in the first place.
To bring God happiness and to share in it with Him. Joy.
Note: Of course I believe love is what we are ultimately made for, and what God most wants to share with us. But my point here is that sacrifice is a powerful way of expressing love in a fallen world that makes it necessary, while sharing happiness--feeling happiness at causing another's happiness, in a beautiful never-ending circle--is also an expression of love, that will be both on Earth and in Heaven!
Saying "happiness doesn't matter, discipline and blood and sweat and tears are all that count" is like saying "I love the sword for its sharpness, I care not for what it defends."
Sacrifice and courage exist in this fallen world in order to protect gentleness, happiness, and love. Sacrifice and courage are what I'd call "reflexive virtues," because they're very important, but don't exist for their own sake. They are defensive (and proper) reactions to counter the sin both within us and around us. Love and gratitude--which often bring happiness--are meanwhile what I'd call "eternal virtues," because they'll exist for their own sake forever, even when sin will be nothing but a memory!
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i honestly don't really understand why "some people prefer watching gameplay online rather than playing games themselves" is treated as such a taboo when being a spectator is considered a pretty mundane way to engage with most sports, game shows, reality tv or even just like. chess.
There's absolutely nothing wrong with it. I like playing video games, but some nights I'm just so tired, just sitting back and watching someone's longplay of a retro game feels more relaxing (and is even a good way for me to get sleepy). I also love watching curated tours of Animal Crossing dream islands, and walkthroughs for the unlock missions of Lego Star Wars: The Skywalker Saga.
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