#tup kai

[chickenscribbles]

ah life sucks as a digital girl!

[maddestmewmew]

I have seen 1 (1) post about tupkai and I am already love them. hold them gently (pronouns? Sorry) please random trivia !!!! favorite juice?

he/him pronouns! he does not know he can be anything else. i think sometimes he doesnt even nkow about she/her pronouns. like. at all.

his favorite juice is mango-pineapple! more trivia uhh he DOES NOT know what homophbia is.

he loves video games but he CANNOT name any speicifc game he likes

he cannonically has a super shitty low poly 3d model! think raz from psychonauts if he looked like shit

this

[rexxdjarin]

Mari would be in about her mid-70s when Kix is found again.

Force willing if Rex is still around they’d make it their mission to find him.

And if Rex, do to his advanced aging, somehow isn’t anymore…that would only make Mari’s resolve to find him even stronger.

And Kix would see a face he truly recognized for the first time in half a century. The beloved heart of his Captain, the soul of him lives with her and always had since the day they met.

Mari would tell Kix all about how his brother lived. How Rex survived it all. How Ahsoka survived it all. Together they helped the Rebellion take down the evil that Kix was committed to stopping before he was frozen in time. That his brother took care of things the way he always did—with the unparalleled moral strength and warriors resolve that only Rex would have.

And oh his beloved blonde brother had a son of his very own. A wonderful, brilliant, force sensitive boy who himself was well into his 40s now. And though Kai had his beautiful Mother’s fire and a Jedi’s empathetic wisdom, he wore his Father’s face. He looked so much like Rex—so much like Fives, Echo, Hardcase, Tup and Jesse—so much like Kix’s own reflection that there was no doubting Rex had lived and carried on for all his brothers.

Mari sees Kix and hugs him close for he is family and giving them the justice of a full life was all her and Rex had ever truly wanted.

[trudemaethien]

Ship: Fives/Boil

Words: Convict, scholar, dog

have fun making it weird <3

‘kay so the spirit of the prompts is there, promise. if you squint as hard as Dogma. also idk about making it weird but i hope i hit hot? 😘

Everyone knows what the red triangles mean, but it’s not so easy to quantify. During off-hours, commanders shut down their good-idea-fairies, break up any groups made up entirely of them, monitor them for contraband—but it’s not that they are troublemakers or criminals, not exactly.

They also tend to be more highly decorated, have better chances of making it through the chaos of a battle, be more willing to take chances, and more open to taking a shiny under their pauldron.

But it’s not done to inquire into what exactly happened or ask why a trooper’s paint includes one. It might not even be an event. Hardcase, who bore none himself, had taken one look at shiny CT-6922 and gotten out a red brush for him, way before he’d gotten boots on the ground. No one understands quite why, yet, but Hardcase’s faith is unflinching.

It can even be a bit of an unspoken connection between brothers who’ve never seen each other before, which is what is happening now.

The goldie tips his red-arrow and dark-ship-diagram festooned helmet in interest toward Fives across the landing deck, and Fives tilts his own in a return of the sentiment. They’ll almost certainly run into each other again tonight, despite the thronging mass of two battalions worth of troopers on deck.

Fives grins and heads to the barracks to in-process. He’s getting out of this armor and into civvies. Not to make it too hard for the other guy to find him, but—yeah, a little bit.

If the other guy is a red arrow, he’ll enjoy the hunt.

<><>

A heavy hand claps down on his shoulder and a brother with what has to be a dare-shave leans down into his space. Fives does his best not to inhale the shandy he’d been swallowing as he turns to greet the newcomer.

…who doesn’t lean back very far. Their faces are much less than polite speaking distance apart.

“Hel-lo,” Fives says, because flirting is his go-to.

“You’re a hard man to find,” the brother says with wry good humor. “I’m Boil.”

“Fives.”

“How— are you guys old buddies, or only just now meeting?” Dogma asks, squinting between the two of them.

“Yes,” says Fives at the same time that Boil says “No.”

They both grin delightedly, darting a shot-quick glance aside at one another.

Dogma thins his lips, but drowns his objections in the last slug of his drink. “I’m going to find Tup,” he announces, sliding out of his seat, and to Fives, “Do not light anything on fire while I’m not with you.”

Good man. He’s growing into it, little by little.

“Fire, huh?” Boil asks.

“Nah, was thinking something a bit hotter than that,” Fives says.

Boil gets his drift. “Oh?” he says leadingly, and leans back in his seat, hooking his elbows over the top of the chair back.

Fives turns and slips his fingers under the raised hem of Boil’s civvie shirt, tracing boldly up from the crest of his hipbone to just beneath his ribs and digging in a little.

Boil’s near hand advances up his arm past his shoulder until his fingers are in Fives hair and his palm lays sure and heated on his nape.

“Your beard is juuust going to touch mine,” Boil points out. His tongue darts out to wet his lips.

“Complaining?” Fives teases.

“Hell no.”

🔻🔒 https://archiveofourown.org/works/51600877

[madamebaggio]

Notes: Previously...

***

Chapter 4

“In my defense…” Arthur started, but Kay cut him off.

“Oh, I’m sure this is going to be great.”

He gave her a flat look. “I wasn’t just gallivanting around the continent, you know? I was at war.”

Kay scoffed. “Oh I can imagine it.” She said dryly. “All those long years of never-ending war. Never stopping for a second, no long periods of waiting when you could have written one single letter to your wife.”

“I…” He sighed. “I didn’t know what to say.”

“So why even bother trying, right?”

Arthur groaned. “Kay. You are not helping.”

“I cannot help you.” She pointed out. “You need to help yourself, my lord. I know you were not out there looking for fortune, glory and women. However, your wife was here, taking care of a lot of things as well. She kept this place running, even when things got bad. Even when thousands came from the North.”

“I know.” He hissed. “I have heard all about what she has done.”

“My point is: this is not a competition of who had it worse during the war.” Kay told him. “You two were married too fast and too young, then you didn’t even have time to get to know each other. Of course this is going to be hard.”

Arthur sighed.

“Also, I am not saying you are the only one responsible for this situation. Lady Sansa also has a part in it, she should work on this marriage too.” Kay conceded.

Arthur arched an eyebrow. “But?”

Kay grimaced. “By the Seven, Arthur, what did you do to that girl on her wedding night?”

“Why?” He asked, a deep frown on his face. “I did not hurt her.” He hadn’t… Had he?

The woman crossed her arms. “I didn’t think you did.”

“You told me to be gentle!” He threw his hands up.

Kay scoffed. “How did you interpret me saying ‘be gentle to your virginal, sheltered young wife’ as ‘botch it up so badly she can’t see how people would enjoy it at all’?”

“Oh Gods.” He groaned in pain. This was… Humbling.

He did have a notion that he hadn’t actually been great that night, but… This was worse than he thought it might be.

“Lady Sansa is…” Kay seemed to think hard about what to say, before coming to a decision. “She is guarded. After her mother and brother died it was as if she just locked up inside herself.”

Yes, that had been cruel. Arthur hadn’t been at the wedding, because he didn’t trust the Freys and the Boltons, and he was a bit pissed at Robb for what he’d done throughout the whole mess.

He could understand falling in love, but Robb had been stupid to think it’d be that easy. The man who’d preached to him about promises and honor, had thrown his away and almost cost them the rebellion.

If Jon hadn’t come along…

He could only imagine how Sansa felt about it. He felt immensely guilty for not being there for Robb, despite their difference in opinions. Sansa had been alone at the time, in Camelot. She’d received the news from Bedivere, because once again Arthur hadn’t been capable of just writing her one fucking letter.

He was a shitty husband.

“Listen, Arthur.” Kay put a gentle hand on his shoulder. “I am not blaming you. Or her. What I want you to see is that it was not easy for both of you. You did not have the time to get used to each other, to know each other. You did not get the chance to court her properly, and woo with your dubious charms.”

Arthur gave her a weak smile at that.

“You two have to start from the very beginning after all this time and everything that happened in between. Of course it won’t be easy, but it doesn’t mean it is hopeless.”

He took a deep breath in. “You are right.” He decided. “I have done stupider things with worse odds.”

Kay frowned. “That was not actually encouraging, but fine.”

“I want to make this work, Kay.”

“That I am happy to hear.”

“Any suggestions on how I should start?”

“You could always actually please your wife in bed.”

***

Logically Arthur wasn’t about to tup his wife in the middle of the morning -she hardly seemed interested in it during the night. However, what Kay had said did make him think about what he could do.

He knew very little about Sansa, even after three years of marriage. The only things he knew were related to him by other people, including Jon and Arya, who’d told him she liked songs and lemon cakes -respectively.

That didn’t seem like a solid base for anything.

Therefore, he chose to start with what he requested the night before: for them to meet so they could talk about Londinium.

He met her at her solar and she was polite and distant as they talked.

It was clear to him how competent she was. Sansa had been raised to be the lady of a keep and it showed when she was working.

Whatever she didn’t know, she’d learned and mastered. She knew about the business, the trading routes and needs of the people.

“I suppose we will need to re-negotiate trade now that the Dragon Queen has taken over.” She mused.

“Yes.” Arthur sighed. “But I am not sure how fast that will happen, since she has her own problems for now.”

“I am glad Jon did not surrender the North to her.”

“I like being independent from the South.” He agreed. “Bunch of wankers.”

She arched an eyebrow at him, and he cleared his throat.

“This is just an overview.” She continued. “I can send you all the papers so you can see for yourself…”

“I trust you, Sansa.” He told her simply. “I will familiarize myself better with it, but I know I left Londinium in good hands.”

She didn’t comment and just looked at him.

“Do you know what I think is more relevant now?”

Sansa arched an eyebrow. “I can barely wait to hear it.”

“Our marriage.”

Arthur was pretty sure she was holding in a snort. “Is that so?”

“Yes.” He pressed on. “We should work on that.”

“Why?”

“Because, love, you are not getting rid of me. It will be easier if you just accept that and fall in love with me.”

She narrowed her eyes and Arthur grinned. There she was. 

[funkscop1997]

unmeaningful pantheon longpost. it's long and i can't do a read more becuz I'm on mobile sorry for bombing ur dash

tw mentions of murder and drugs . this is like a basic gloss over everything

ok so tup lore master post basically viktor grows up in a bad place w a lot of street violence and the like but he becomes friends with a girl named kalie (pronounced kay-lee,) and when they're able to they move into a house together. they aren't dating though they r just friends. kalie has a kid named yoyo and later adopts a kid named sherwin.

viktor moves out later and occasionally comes over to visit yoyo (sherwin isn't adopted until yoyo is like. 20) but he gets his hands on an atari 2600 console. this console has the spirit of a woman who was murdered inside of it, though it has no recollection of its past life other than its murder, and has taken the name at4ri (which is pronounced the same way as atari is, the 4 is there to differentiate it from the console.) at4ri usually kills whoever it comes across, which would be weird since at4ri has already managed to kill its ex-husband, the one responsible for it's death (his name is millard) but at4ri does it because it is able to use the people it kills to like.... take their form?? hard to explain and not what I'm talking abotu

so Viktor and at4ri r friends and at4ri doesn't really know why but they are which is awesome!!!!! anyways yoyo also exists and they do not like viktor. for some reason. she also does drugs which is not something they're proud of. they also have two girlfriends, exclamation (exxie, xyr an ex-model) and atlantis (she works at an aquarium!) they don't know why yoyo hates Viktor so much but i do. yoyo hates vik becuz she wants to be independent but still ends up relying on Viktor for money because she's poor and doesn't want to worry her mom about it.

that's basically it. uh

[incorrectstarwars]

me, with a cold on the sofa: if this doesn't clear out my sinuses so well i can smell what cologne the pope was wearing inn2015 in his fruity little popemobile you have to give it back to Chi

tup:

um'kai:

tup: kai i think he's delirious

[phoenixyfriend]

Uhh for the prompt meme, 3 & 13 gives me Anakin and the Jedi Babies vibes, so Jango or Jaster & Anakin or Soka or Ben maybe?

390 Prompts!!!! 3. “Am I supposed to be scared of you?” 13. “BOOM! That oughta show you not to mess with me!”

IDK if I’ll get the actual line in but I’ve been meaning to write a bit about Jango and Sokanth, at minimum. Jango is just barely fifteen, Soka is two. She has very vague memories of her teen self.

EDIT: I GOT THE LINE IN

Objectively, Jango’s main connection to Anakin Skywalker should have been professional.

It wasn’t.

Jango hadn’t been one of the soldiers to bring in the little family. He’d heard about it after they’d already been taken to medical, arrived just in time to see them muttering about how fancy the prosthetic arm was as they removed it--frostbite risk, they said--and stripping the Jedi of his sodden robes. The man was only a few years older than Jango, and covered in battle scars. Attractive, maybe, but Jango wouldn’t be able to even think of that until he wasn’t staring at blue lips on a half-dead face.

“How did he know we were here?” he asks his father, stepping up beside the man at the overlarge window of the ‘secure’ medical room, and receiving half a glance in response.

“He didn’t,” Jaster says, looking supremely unhappy with the entire situation. “Had no idea who I was, when he saw me.”

“He talked to you?”

“For about five seconds before he passed out.” Jaster smiles, thin and grim. “We found an Ident card. It’s got a name, a few details that don’t make sense... we think it might have been prepared for a long-term mission in system with a non-standard calendar; the dates are in the future if we assume it’s Republic.”

“Weird,” Jango mutters. “He doesn’t look much like a Jedi.”

“Adi’ka, you’ve never met a Jedi,” Jaster scoffs, cuffing him on the shoulder.

“Jedi don’t wear black leather,” Jango argues, glancing at the nearest pile of cloth.

Jaster rolls his eyes. “He had four lightsabers on him, if that’s what you’re looking to ask.”

“Haran.” Jango whistles lowly, impressed despite himself. “What’d he need that many for?”

“The brown robes were too short for him,” Jaster says, voice not quite loud enough to carry. “And the other set were fit for a female youngling, even shorter.”

He hadn’t been alone.

And now he was.

“Bodies?” Jango asks.

“None dead,” Jaster says. “And the living are... far too young to match up.”

He gestures, and Jango belatedly sees the tiny, tiny things in cribs to the side.

Jango swears, quiet and angry. He’d heard there were children, but he hadn’t expected anyone quite that small.

Jaster takes the cursing in stride. “They’re estimating the human at six months. Togruta’s maybe two years. Jedi was damn near dead when they found him, but the kids seem fine. Medics are guessing it’s something to do with the Force, because neither of them were even that cold.”

“Any idea how he knows them?”

“Nothing yet, just that he cares about them like they’re his own,” Jaster says. “Scouting party claimed he said they were family. Even used Mando’a, called them aliit. We’re going to keep them together until we know more. No use accidentally enraging a Jedi by separating him from family, if that’s what they are. The Togruta seems to know him, at least.”

“I thought Jedi weren’t supposed to have families.”

“You also thought Jedi weren’t supposed to wear black leather.”

Jango huffs and turns away from his father, focusing in on how the medics are starting to pack in blankets on the man’s chest while they get to work on the thigh wound. It looks already cauterized, maybe a blaster, but that can still get infected damned easily. Jango’s seen it happen before.

“Can the togruta talk yet?”

“Only enough to ask for her... carer?” Jaster hazards. “She refers to him as ‘Skyguy’ and it’s been pretty much the only word she’s said that isn’t gibberish.”

Jango almost asks if they’re sure it’s not just Togruti.

Even as he watches the area below, the toddler starts crying. A few of the medics dart glances over, but they're busy with the adult. The crying starts increasing in pitch, heading to dangerous territory, and a number of people abruptly remember that a Togruta's cry is much more likely to destroy eardrums than a human child's.

Jango hesitates, but turns from his father and heads for the door. Nobody comments.

Jango slips into the room as quietly as a teenager in most of a beskar kit can, and goes over to the cribs that have been hastily set up. The human infant is quiet, blinking sleepily and furrowing their little brow, but the toddler has gotten to her feet, clinging to the bars and screaming her little head off. He stops in front of her and... tries to figure out what to do.

"Weks?"

He has no idea if that's a word. She's stopped screaming at least, is just rubbing her eyes free of tears and peering up at him. She hiccups.

"Hi," he says, unsure of what else to do.

"No weks," she seemingly decides, and her lip trembles. Kriff. "Obi-obi?"

"I don't know what you're saying," he tells her, but offers a hand that she immediately grabs for. "Do you know Basic?"

"Ya!" she cheers, and then starts trying to climb out of the crib. Jango panics and picks her up, because he's pretty sure this might be a Jedi baby, and if it's a Jedi baby, then what if she can float? He can't deal with an upset, floating baby. Better he just pick her up.

"Hi," he repeats, still unsure of what to do with this small child. She frowns at him, deep in thought, and pats at his face like she's trying to figure it out. "What are you--"

"Shi-ny," she suddenly insists. "Like Tup."

He has no idea what she's trying to say. "Sure."

She frowns harder at him, and then leans forward and drops her head against his beskar, seemingly unaware of how uncomfortable it's going to be. "Shiny. Weks 'n' Cody 'n' Echo 'n' vod."

"You don't even know my name," Jango says, panicking a little. "You can't call me vod."

"Shhhh now," she says, patting blindly at his mouth. He tries to crane his head away. He mostly fails. "Sleepy."

"Wh--okay," he decides. Sure. If it keeps her quiet, sure. He goes to sit down, and she immediately turns and tries to grab for her... fellow child? He has no idea what they are to each other.

"No!"

"Okay, okay, we can stay with the other baby!" Jango assures her, trying to bounce her up and down like he's seen new parents do, looking frantically for a chair to pull over. "I'm going to get a chair and we'll come right back, okay?"

She looks up at him, tears gathering. "Pwomise?"

"Uh, yeah, I promise."

He lets her bury her face back against his chest, and quickly grabs the nearest chair and drags it over to the cribs. He ignores the medics for the most part, just focuses on holding the toddler that he has, mostly against his own will, become temporarily responsible for. "Do you have a name?"

She just whines and cuddles closer. He sighs.

"Well, I'm Jango. So, you don't have to call me that other stuff." He moves a hand to pull her away from where she's about to topple off his lap. She grabs for it and pulls it to her face, apparently forgetting that she'd just declared herself sleepy. She examines the glove in fascination. "Please definitely don't call me vod. You have people here, and I just met you. Wait for your, uh, Skyguy? Wait for your Skyguy to wake up."

She bites his fingers. He pulls his hand away, swearing under his breath and panicking just a little. "Don't put that in your mouth, do you have any idea where my gloves have been?"

She bares her teeth at him and growls. Given that her teeth are barely more than nubs, this doesn't do much. "Am I supposed to be scared of you?"

"Ya!"

"I am not."

She pouts and whines and throws herself back against the beskar, causing a thunking noise as her montral hits the plate. She does not seem perturbed by the collision, just twists somehow closer and sticks her thumb in her mouth.

That is... also probably covered in germs. He looks over at the crib, spots a pacifier, and awkwardly leans to grab it without dropping the toddler in his lap or standing up and making it harder for her to start falling asleep again. There's a little togruta on it, which he figures means it's not going to be a choking hazard for non-human teeth. "Here, chew this instead."

She makes a curious noise and lifts her head. She wrinkles her nose at the pacifier, and then looks up at him. "Jan-Jan, no."

"Wh--you know what, no, you're a kid, I can't get angry at you for getting my name wrong," he sighs. "Take the pacifier, it's cleaner than your hand."

"No!"

"Please?" He tries.

She glares at him a little harder and then huffs. "Kay. Cuz shiny."

He still has no idea what that means, but if it gets her to fall asleep with this thing in her mouth instead of her dubiously-clean hand, he's fine with it.

(When he learns what shiny means, he will be much less fine with it.)

(It'll be far too late by that point, of course.)

[notfivefives]

BTHB Pt. 2

The second fill for my @badthingshappenbingo card, requested by @ladylienda. Thank you so much for this request! I’ve wanted to write something like this since I had my heart torn out first watched The Clone Wars! (Also tagging @fivesarctrooper!) I couldn’t contain my love of this prompt in one chapter, so this is actually going to be three chapters, each with a different square filled!

Title: Have I Done No Hurt

Square Filled: Struggling Against The Caretaker

Characters: ARC Trooper Fives & Captain Rex

Word Count: 3,023

Summary: A Fives Lives AU that takes place right after the warehouse scene in 6.04. Rex and Anakin take Fives to the Jedi Temple for treatment, but all does not go smoothly. 

Chapter: 1/3

Warnings: Description of Injury, Loss of Autonomy/Forced Medical Treatment

Read below the cut, or on AO3.

My BTHB Card

The mad clone of Kaikielius. That’s what the Holonet had called him. Slaughtered his own unit in some paranoid delusion. Rex had never been sure if it was true, or if it was journalistic sensationalism.

Or an admonition for clones.

But, no. No, this wasn’t that. Fives wouldn’t just snap.

He just needs help.

“How’s he doing?” Skywalker asked from the front of the speeder they’d commandeered.

Rex pushed his thoughts away as suddenly and as harshly as it had latched onto him. He spared a glance frontward and saw worried eyes in the rearview mirror. He finished removing the last of the plastoid covering Fives’ arms and discarded it.

“He’s in bad shape, sir.” It felt like a confession rather than an assessment.

Rex’s hands were quick and unerring as they undid the cuirass’ clasps and buckles. The sole mark on the white plastoid was the barely-cooled blaster burn on the left side. And beneath that, the flesh the armor had failed to protect.

“Gonna take this off,” Rex told Fives.

“You don’ understand,” Fives said as he blinked and shook his head, trying to clear it. The sound of his worn, doleful voice tugged at Rex, but he needed to get this done.

You’re right, Fives. I don’t understand. What in hells happened to you?

“Tell me later. Right now, just…just take it easy.” Fives’ scent reached him; it was far sharper than something simply born of exertion.

Quiet groans and little hitches in his breath were Fives’ only protestations as Rex maneuvered the cuirass away. (With distaste, he stowed the cuirass with the rest of the armor in the front passenger’s seat. It wasn’t Fives’ armor. It was blank and ineffectual. And wrong.) Some small part of Rex was grateful Fives remained otherwise quiet, especially with the way the general had bridled at his accusation against the chancellor. Fives listed toward the door and curled his arm around himself, obscuring his injury.

“Lie back. Let me see.”

Fives didn’t follow his instruction, but he lifted his eyes and tried to focus on Rex, and-

Fuck!

Fives’ pupils were blown.

Was it shock, or drugs, or something else? They were the same questions that had underscored the discussion of Tup’s breakdown, but Rex knew this was different. Somehow, this was different.

And what had become of Tup? If Fives wasn’t with him…

“Just lean back,” Rex coaxed. He kept his fear, worry, and inevitable grief well below the surface as he put a careful palm over the gray cog on Fives’ chest and eased him onto the backrest. Fives resisted, then relented with a wince.

“It’s okay,” Rex said. He was gentle as he set his fingers on Fives’ forearm. He was so, so gentle and it hurt that he had to be, when a good-natured clout would have been a welcome show of warmth and concern. Especially to Fives. “I just want to see.”

Please let me help you, Rex willed.

“‘Kay,” Fives murmured. He frowned as he stared at some fixed point in front of him, but he moved his arm at Rex’s light prodding.

Blackened skin was indistinguishable from wizened fabric; plastoid was stuck there, too. The wound seeped lazily, and as ugly and awful as it was, it was unremarkable compared to thousands of other wounds on thousands of other identical bodies. Completely survivable, and if it had the chance to heal, it would scar over. It was often the best a clone could hope for. The only unique thing about the burn was its infliction.

Fox doesn’t miss, Rex thought.

He didn’t indulge in his knee-jerk anger at Fox. He couldn’t. It evaporated almost as soon as it had flared, but another thought was there in its wake, one that left a cold feeling in Rex’s gut. Could he have done the same thing had their positions been reversed, and Rex had had to turn his own DC’s on Fives?

Skywalker settled them on a landing pad on the south side of the temple before Rex could delve more completely into that line of thought.

Fives leaned against Rex’s left side as they followed their general out of the still-dark Coruscant morning, and into the Halls of Healing, where they were surrounded by deep blues and warm creams, an environment to promote peace and healing. Fives’ head was bowed, but his eyes shifted from room to room as though he was trying to determine the angle from which he was going to be ambushed.

“You don’t know. You don’t know what they did to us,” Fives said. His voice was rushed and hoarse. Rex could hear something in him fraying. “It’s in our heads, Rex. It’s-”

Fives’ voice broke off in a yelp when one of his feet caught on the floor. Rex saw Skywalker turn on his heels and move to help, but Rex had him. Fives took a faltering step back the way they came.

“Easy, easy,” Rex said. His voice was soft, but his hold grew firmer. When Fives stilled and tensed, Rex feared he’d made a mistake, that Fives was going to round on him and take a swing. But he only turned and looked at Rex. His jaws were clenched and his eyes, gleaming with unshed tears, begged him to understand.

“We’re almost there,” Rex told him as he drew closer and took all the weight Fives would let him bear. “We’re gonna get you some help.”

They continued down the nearly silent hallway, and when they turned a corner, they found themselves in Vokara Che’s presence.

“Master Che,” Skywalker said as he straightened. “We need your help.”

For a heartbeat, Rex thought she may turn them away, that the Jedis’ involvement was out of the question, that he’d be officially forced to take Fives into custody and turn him over to some horrific form of interrogation. But as her gaze swept over the three of them, there was no surprise or condemnation there. Just calm evaluation.

“This way,” she said, tilting her chin.

They followed her brisk footsteps to a treatment room two doors down from where they’d stood.

“I trust, General Skywalker,” Che said, “that the council is aware your man is here in the temple?”

Skywalker crossed his arms, and glanced at Fives and Rex before dropping his gaze.

“Not exactly.”

Che didn’t seem to take umbrage with that.

Hells, Rex realized, she probably expected it.

He’d met Master Che on several occasions, but it had only taken him moments to decide she had his respect.

She commed someone, then went about turning on monitors. Rex kept her in his periphery as he and Skywalker helped Fives onto the exam table. Once seated, Fives’ shoulders slumped, and he rubbed his eyes with shaking hands. The sheen of perspiration on his brow went undisturbed. Rex kept a hand on Fives’ shoulder. He wasn’t sure if it was to help keep Fives grounded, or reassure himself that Fives was still with him.

“He’s been shot,” Rex said without taking his eyes off of Fives when Che came over. “And I think he’s been drugged.”

Che nodded, stepped around Rex and raised the top half of the medcot before she began taking a medscanner over Fives’ hunched form.

“What’s his name?”

“Fives,” Rex and Skywalker said in unison, both equally solemn.

Another nod.

“Fives, I’m Master Healer Che. You’re safe here. I want you to know that. I hope you can trust that.” The bright greens, reds and blues of the scanner’s readings leapt onto the monitors. Rex was unsure what most of it meant, but his own limited knowledge, and the tightness around Che’s eyes told him it wasn’t anything good. “I’d like to examine you, but I think it might be easier on you if you go ahead and lie back. And the captain can help you out of the remainder of your armor.”

“She’s gonna fix you up, Fives,” Rex said when he felt Fives’ muscles go rigid. He forced as much cool-headed certitude into his voice as he could and squeezed Fives’ shoulder. In truth, Rex was relieved to have a task to complete. While Che gathered and prepared what she needed, Rex went to work.

Fives allowed himself to be guided down and back, allowed his last vestiges of protection to be taken away. But for every clasp that was undone, and every piece removed, something frightened and pleading would surface through the haze in Fives’ deep amber eyes that made Rex wish he could pull him close and unmake everything that had happened since they’d set foot on Ringo Vinda.

“I’m here,” he said when he set the final piece of plastoid down with the rest. He put his hand over Fives’, whose fingers were digging into the padding beneath him. “I’m here. It’s going to be okay.”

But what if that was a lie?

“I just…I...” Fives said as he tried to lift himself.

“Easy.”

Rex didn’t raise his voice; he pressed Fives back down as firmly as he had to, and as kindly as he could afford. Fives’ hands grabbed at his forearm, and Rex let him.

“I just wanted to do my duty,” His words came out desperate and breathy as his dilated eyes searched Rex’s steady expression. The absence of Fives’ dark curls made his eyes look bigger, more hunted. There were deep, dark circles beneath them, and, regardless of Fives’ ability to endure, Rex wondered when the last time was he’d slept or had something to eat.

“I know, Fives,” he managed. Rex took one of Fives’ hands from his vambrace and held it in his own, wanting so badly to soothe and comfort him. “I know, but you have to let us help you, yeah?”

Rex thought Fives was going to try to bolt, but he dampened his chapped lips, swallowed hard, and settled back. His hand tightened on Rex’s when Che took her place on the opposite side of the table, and a tall Mirialan entered the room. His blue eyes were as sharp and intelligent as Che’s, and his face boasted none of his people’s tattoos. His fingers stopped worrying at the pale gemstone around his neck when he introduced himself as Idan.

“They’re going to help,” Rex assured Fives, though that pervasive what if kept time with his heartbeat.

“Okay, Fives, we’re going to get you taken care of,” Che said once she’d imparted her orders to the newcomer. She explained herself before touching Fives in any way, and while Fives’ hand shook with how hard he was holding Rex’s, he let her go about her business. She shined a penlight in his eyes, one then the other, then swung the light back and forth between them. His pupils barely contracted, and Rex could see the miniscule wrinkling of Che’s nose. “Fives, the Captain said he thought you were drugged. Is that accurate?”

“Nala Se,” Fives said with a slow nod. Even through his disorientation, the underlying vitriol in his ragged tone was unmistakable. One of Che’s eyebrows lifted and she looked at Rex.

“The Kaminoan Chief Medical Scientist.” Rex’s voice sounded distant in his own ears as he unconsciously brushed a thumb over Fives’ knuckles. Was this a piece of the puzzle, or a thread in an elaborate, but unraveling delusion? The longnecks could have subjected Fives and Tup to any manner of mental or physical unpleasantness in the interest of discovering what had gone wrong with the weapons they’d bred. Rex felt a down his spine. For all their innovations and haughty indifference, they were merely arms dealers.

Fives’ words echoed in Rex’s mind.

You don’t know what they did to us.

“Any idea what you were given, or how much?” Che asked.

It’s in our heads.

Fives shook his head no and eyed Idan warily. Idan approached and offered Fives a quiet greeting before placing a pulse oximeter on his left middle finger. Fives shifted when Idan began to shear away the ruined body glove, but Rex saw him work to keep himself under some semblance of control.

“Excuse me,” Idan said to Rex when he required more space to work. No matter how polite and well meaning the Mirialan’s words were, something ferocious and unbidden rose up in Rex at the realization he was being asked to let go of Fives. He quelled the impulse in the span of several breaths, and whatever words had been on his tongue went unspoken.

He squeezed Fives’ hand before setting it down and stepping back. Fives’ head rolled to the side as he watched Rex; the tiny groan that escaped him nearly sent Rex rushing back. But this wasn’t the time. All Rex could give was a small nod and mirthless twitch of his lip.

“I’m right here,” he said, thinking too suddenly and too keenly about brothers he’d never been able to say that to. “Let them help.”

The upper half of the body glove - the part that wasn’t stuck to FIves’ side - came away, and Che pressed on with her examination and questioning. Fives answered as best he could, mostly with nods and single-word responses; he closed his eyes when he was able, and cringed as he tracked back through the murk in his mind.

“And the incision on your head?” Che asked as she looped a tourniquet behind Fives’ left arm above his elbow.

Fives’ eyes slid open again and the manic despair that had animated him in the warehouse edged its way back into his face and body. Rex didn’t miss the look all three of the Jedi exchanged; he hadn’t been privy to whatever collective vexation they’d felt, but he didn’t need the Force to tell him Fives was coming undone.

“Fives, I need you to be calm.”

The practiced, unflappable calm in Che’s voice was all sense and reason. No patronization. She stepped back and set the strip of blue rubber - It wasn’t dissimilar to her skin tone. -with the rest of the blood draw implements. With difficulty, Fives leaned up as he looked between Skywalker, Rex and the two healers, but his attention locked on the sharp things, the cylindrical things, Che had at her side.

Fives’ breaths turned short and sharp, and he shook his head.

Rex’s heart sank. A line had been tread over; it had become too much, and he didn’t think there was any going back.

“Gedaway,” Fives slurred as he lurched to his side. Idan caught him by a shoulder and a thigh with lightning-fast hands and tried to push him back down. “Don’ touch me!”

Rex was at Fives’ side again in two quick steps. When he pushed Fives’ shoulders down, Idan moved his grip and weight to Fives’ legs. Fives shoved and struck at Rex with uncoordinated, but determined limbs until Skywalker pinned his hands against the table.

“Woah, Fives,” he said. There was worry in Skywalker’s eyes, but there was lightness in his voice that only he could manage in the most dire situations. But beneath that, Rex could tell Skywalker knew. He knew this wasn’t Fives.

Fives bucked against them and let out a sound that wasn’t a moan, or a sob, or a snarl. Maybe it was all three, the result days steeped in adrenaline and fear.

“Fives! No, no, no.” Rex’s quiet words rattled out of him and he grunted with the surprising amount of force it took to keep Fives down. “It’s okay, it’s okay, you’re okay. Shhshhshh! Don’t fight us. Don’t fight.”

But this was Fives, and Rex knew he may as well have told him not to breathe. All their assuagements, all their soft platitudes, were met with straining muscle and frenzied, hysterical cries. Fives tried to kick and headbut and bite, but they held him fast. He flattened himself down, then tried arcing himself off the table with renewed urgency. The burn on his side was seeping worse. It had to have been agonizing as he wrenched and struggled, but Fives didn’t seem to notice. The man who had faced down his own execution, the brother whose courage was depthless, was fucking terrified.

“Steady,” Che said as she stepped closer and extended a hand toward Fives’ head.

“NOOOOO!” He howled and then gasped as he tried to pull away, his wide eyes searching for something, anything, that would save him. Tears fell. “No! Don’t! Don’t! NO! NO! NO!”

Che placed the tips of three fingers on his forehead.

“Sleep,” she said. It was a command and a suggestion, and everything else that was felt and not seen.

And Fives just…stopped. Stopped cold.

Rex’s hold on Fives softened and his gaze swung toward Che, who continued about her business as though there had been no interruption. Idan followed suit and Skywalker straightened Fives’ arms before stepping back.

“It’s perfectly safe, Captain,” she said. “Fives is asleep. You and the general are excused.”

“Sir?” Something thoughtless and harried that bordered on outrage wove its way into that single syllable.

“Unless you have information that will help us treat him, I’m asking you to leave us to our work.”

Che’s tone was understanding, but it made it clear she would not be moved from her decision.

They didn’t know anything more than they did when Kix had commed them. Yet, Rex’s feet refused to budge. He looked down at Fives’ unstirring form, knowing he couldn’t mend him, couldn’t reach him. He put his hand in Fives’ once again, and felt an ache swelling in his throat.

“Rex.”

Rex put his shoulders back and turned to look at Skywalker, whose hand was raised halfway to Rex’s vambrace. He hated the helplessness he knew his general would see on his face.

“You’ve done your job, Rex. Let them do theirs.”

Rex’s chin dipped toward his chest and he squeezed Fives’ hand before letting it go. Idan was fitting an oxygen mask over Fives’ nose and mouth, and Che was placing the tourniquet once again. Both were entirely focused on their patient.

Skywalker turned and walked out, and after one last look at Fives, Rex followed.

[maddestmewmew]

HI PLEASE TALK AB TUPCAI IM OBSESSED WITH THE DESIGN

THE PEOPLE ARE CURIOUS ABT MY BOY HELLLL YESSS...

Tup Kai is an abandoned computer program! hes the protagonist of a REALLY shitty dating sim/platformer from like 2006. he enjoys things like Skateboarding and Showing Off To The Chicks. and hes stupid hes so fucking stupid. he doesnt know what being bisexual is but he has a HUGE crush on my other oc, popup, and he shows this by following him around like a duckling and rambling All The Time. popup fucking HATES this guy hes so fucking annoying to him. poppy Does Not realize tup kai has a crush on him but he wouldnt care even if he did know..there are other ocs in this story but they all similarly think Tup Kai is. INCREDIBLY annoying

[firewoodwander]

first kiss for modern au rex and kix?

:D always (you’re actually going to help me on a wip with this one, omg)

It’s almost four a.m. Rex is tipsy, Sinker is possibly asleep on the kitchen counter, and Kix is still bitching about Jesse as he drinks red wine straight from the bottle. Tup has sprawled himself over Rex and Kix’s laps on the sofa, his face buried in Rex’s stomach and his fingers wound tightly in his shirt.

Rex isn’t sure how he’s comfortable, but he’s snoozing quite happily, so he leaves him be. Even if his leg went dead twenty minutes ago.

“And, you know?” Kix is saying. “We were—we were sixteen. I think. Something like that. I was trying. I really tried.”

“I know,” Rex tells him softly. He does. He had to watch it happen.

“Not saying Jess did’n try either, just… Think he knew. He told me I was being stupid, you know? How fuckin’ rude. Said I was in denial—which, okay, fair—”

Rex sighs and strokes his hand through Tup’s hair. Kix is leaning on him, shoulder to shoulder, the both of them slouched into their seat. Rex doesn’t want to talk about Jesse, as much as he loves him, because seeing him make out with Kix on the corner of the road after school was unexpectedly one of the hardest things he’s ever had to do. He doesn’t want to talk to Kix about Jesse.

“He kept telling me I needed to—” Kix starts laughing, putting the bottle down on the floor with a clunk. “He told me I need to grow a pair. He said crushes are for kids and I needed to ask you out, but, do you know how frustrating it was to be like Jess—Jess, I cannot ask your best friend out when we were still together like two weeks ago. No one will let that go, ever, and he just didn’t seem to get it. He’s still on at me about it.”

Rex doesn’t know if that’s alcohol or the taste of his own heart in his throat. “I—what?”

Kix startles when he looks over at him, as if he’d forgotten who he was talking to. It’s that moment Tup decides to wake up, stretching out across them and forcing Rex to grab him to stop him falling onto the floor.

“Shit,” he groans, sliding off anyway into a heap. He gathers himself to his feet and smiles sleepily at Rex. “I’m gonna go find Fives.”

“He’s passed out in my room,” Rex tells him, but his thoughts are still stuck on approximately one and a half minutes ago.

“Kay,” Tup says. “Thanks. I think Jesse’s right.”

And then he ambles off out of the kitchen.

“Kix,” Rex says, “who are we talking about?”

“Uh—Jesse.”

“Not Jesse. The person you’re supposed to be asking out.”

“It’s… Shit.”

Rex turns properly to face Kix. He misses the warmth of him up against his side almost immediately, but the way he’s looking at Rex in return…

“You still like this person, right?”

Kix nods. His gaze traces Rex’s face, his hand twitching on his knee as if it wants to follow.

“Since high school?”

“Yeah. Stupid, isn’t it?”

“We’re both fucking idiots.”

Rex takes Kix’s face between his hands and kisses him, softly but surely. Kix makes a dying sort of noise and grasps Rex’s wrists, tugging him closer.

Maybe Rex should have listened when Jesse told him to ask Kix out. He’d hoped, after all…

“Fuck,” Kix says, kissing Rex again, his mouth tasting like he’s drunk far too much wine. “I really really like you.”

“I really like you too,” Rex replies. “Thought about doing this for months.”

Kix slides down the sofa on his side, dragging Rex with him until Rex is hovering over him, kissing his mouth until he coaxed it open and Kix moans.

“Never waiting this long again,” Kix mutters. “I’m gonna… gonna kick my arse, or something.”

Rex snorts, bursting into laughter.

It’s four a.m. He’s tipsy, Kix is drunk, Sinker is asleep on the kitchen counter.

“Tell me again in the morning, yeah?” he says.

Kix hums. “Are we going to have to turf Fives and Tup out of your bed?”

Rex screws up his face. “What’s the betting they’re fucking?”

Kix groans and tugs on Rex’s shoulders. “Let’s just stay here a while?”

“Okay,” Rex says, lowering himself down next to Kix and taking the chance to kiss him again, just for the thrill of it. “Okay.”

[trudemaethien]

Bring Me to Oya

Part 4 | Merverse Part 5 | Part 6

rated e, dogma/wooley/tup, Mer AU, shapeshifting, language barrier, sign language (NZSL), te reo māori, mando’a

A land-boat crunches onto the rock-bed again. Tup looks up, and there’s Dogma, jumping out and hurrying over to them. He drops to his knees, ignoring Wooley, and says, “Tup?” followed by a veritable flood of words too fast for Tup to hope to follow or even pick out separate land-words.

Tup catches Dogma’s hands, twists up to knock their heads together, and then gives him another kiss, land-style. Wooley giggles.

“Baar’am dar’shoroya’kyr de ori’dush aru’ela kebise meshurok. Lo trattoko daab ner gaan, chur sho’cye,” he tries to explain to Dogma, knowing that he is making as much sense to his friend as Dogma had just made to him.

Dogma shakes his head and shrugs in confusion.

“Dar’blue taab, jii blue gemas!” he tries, pointing at his lower half first, then his hair. “Edee dar’kadla,” he complains next, pointing at his mouth. “Ni liniba epar, gedet’ye,” he adds, rubbing his hungry belly. “T’ad gi’se, a’ne luubid.” Right on cue, his stomach rumbles.

Dogma laughs, shedding some of his worry, not all of it. “Hun’grii?” he asks.

“Yes, copaani epa. Kai, skraan, yai’yai, gedet’ye” says Tup, hoping that it won’t take too long to catch what land-men eat.

<><>

Dogma hardly believed it when Wooley texted him that Tup was back, and had somehow turned into a human. He had been about to cast off for his daily dive, but instead he takes his emergency change of clothes from the boat and hops back into his car. It’s not far to the beach.

A blue-haired boy is sitting almost in Wooley’s lap when he arrives. They’re making out, because of course they are, but Dogma can’t let himself be distracted by that.

“Tup?” he calls, still disbelieving. “Is that really you? How did this happen—when did this happen? Are you alright?” The boy turns around and lights up at seeing him. The blue hair is the exact shade his tail had been before, and he’s definitely got legs now, but it’s Tup alright. He has a towel wrapped around him but it starts to slide down when he kneels up.

Dogma skids to his knees next to Tup and Wooley. Tup happily winds his arms around Dogma’s neck, knocks their foreheads together affectionately, and kisses Dogma just as passionately as he’d been kissing Wooley a moment ago.

The threesome thing still feels weird and taboo to Dogma, but he strokes his hands down Tup’s sides. There are no gill openings there. His teeth aren’t sharp, Dogma finds, running his tongue over them.

Tup tries to explain what happened in Mando’a. Dogma has no cues to go by. It would probably be easier to illustrate what happened. Then Tup’s stomach gurgles. Dogma thought to bring clothes, but not food.

read on AO3 🔒 https://archiveofourown.org/works/35452756/chapters/88370986

[datastate]

why do my faves keep getting the infantalized treatment though. like what about these characters like lurien, kai, tup, etc. specifically that draws people to treating them so. Weirdly

[chiafett-moved]

15 for Tup and Dogma (dont hurt them too much plz)

Hello Gaea! I did a little something special with this one. It fits into your "After the War" verse!

(AO3 link will go here tomorrow)

It was stupid, Dogma thought, that Tup should come so far in his recovery only to be stymied by a completely normal, run-of-the-mill cold. He wasn’t quite sure, wasn’t quite sure of a lot these days, but he didn’t think they were supposed to get normal-people sick. They were supposed to be better than that, somehow.

Whether or not that was true, it didn’t change the fact that they were in real life and here in real life Tup was sick. Not very sick, but when one is already half-paralyzed, a cold is difficult to deal with. Fortunately, Dogma didn’t have anything else to do, leaving him with plenty of time to tend to the brother he used to know, the one he now knew better than himself. It couldn’t be too hard, he rationalized, not with Twitch helping him out.

“Here,” Twitch said, pressing a plastoid pot of something medical-looking into his hands. “This’ll help with the congestion.”

Dogma nodded solemnly and took the pot back to their barracks. He hoped Tup was awake.

---

“It’ll help,” Dogma promised, brushing his hair back behind his ear. “Here, sit up.”

He helped Tup up with a hand on his back and another on his shoulder. He was getting stronger and more coordinated by the day, but this cold had knocked him back a few steps. Like Dogma, Dogma thought. Like the days when he woke up and couldn’t remember anything at all. Rex said Dogma was getting better, though, just like Tup.

“Wha’is it?” Tup slurred. He was leaning heavily into Dogma and it was hard to hold him up, so he shifted him to lean on the wall.

“It’s called ‘frigirub.’” Dogma showed him the container. “It’s supposed to help with congestion and pain.”

“How d’use it?”

Dogma unscrewed the lid. He sniffed the cream and recoiled. It smelled sharp. “I’m supposed to put it on your face and shoulders.”

Tup sighed and knocked his head back against the wall.

“What?” Dogma frowned, stopping in the middle of scooping some of the cream out with his finger.

Tup laughed, and it leaked out the weak side of his mouth. “Ss’stupid. Can’ even pu’on cream, cream stuff…. S’Humiliating.”

Dogma ducked his head. “Sorry.” He didn’t have a good idea of boundaries anymore. Echo said it was because he was autistic. Jesse said it was because he had memory issues. Dogma couldn’t remember what he’d been like before, but if Tup used to like him, he probably wasn’t like this.

“Hey. Hey.” Tup tapped clumsily at his leg. Dogma kept his eyes down. “Hey. I’s not your faul.’”

Dogma scoffed.

“I’s not,” Tup insisted. “Dogma, you’re ‘elping. No’your faul.’” He knocked his head against Dogma’s. Something possessed him to turn into it and press back, hard. It felt right. Something clicked.

“Keldabe,” Tup slurred, groping for Dogma’s hand and taking it in his own. “I’s a Keldabe, you ‘member.”

“Yeah,” Dogma choked.” “Yeah, I think I do.”

Tup sniffed, then pulled back to wipe at his eyes. “‘Kay. Help me wi’this stu’id stuff.”

[sabilabirruni]

Jujur masuk sini memang (awalnya) alasan utamanya karena menggugurkan kewajiban sekolah dari orangtua dan suami, jadi pilih yang ritme sekolahnya paling mending diantara yang lain-lain. Ga pernah yang tertarik gimana-gimana sama bagian ini. Tapi berdoa terus sepanjang ikut seleksi, "kalau memang ini jalanku, mohon dilapangkan, segera ditunjukkan alasan kepentingan, dan diberikan ketertarikan pada ilmu ini" -tentunya doa doa lain terkait keluarga dan hal-hal lain jauh lebih banyak dipanjatkan.

Berdoa supaya ditunjukkan strong why nya, karena tanpa strong why, jadi ga punya pegangan buat apa sih bertahan atas pedihnya menuntut ilmu wkwk.

Baru hari pertama, Allah langsung bukakan jawabannya di depan mata. Hari pertama kebetulan masuk jadi asisten TUP/ potong jaringan. Disana pot-pot dan ember organ dan jaringan bergeletakan dimana-mana. Bau formalin menyengat. Payudara, uterus, kandung empedu, appendiks, hasil eksisi tumor dari semua bagian tubuh. Bener-bener kaya kena mental karena aku bahkan udah 4 tahun lebih ga ketemu pasien tapi langsung liat organ-organ ini.

Ga ketemu pasiennya langsung, tapi bisa tau ceritanya dari gambaran yang kami dapatkan melalui pemeriksaan makroskopis dan mikroskopis.

Mata dan hidung pedih bukan cuma karena aroma formalin, tapi juga baper membayangkan pasien dengan kondisi-kondisi dengan keganasan ini. My heart 😭😭

Dan ternyata banyak sekali yang bisa dilakukan dengan diagnosa yang tepat. Theres no treatment without diagnosis.

Baru minggu pertama, ternyata tidak mudah. Hari pertama pulang jam 11 malam, sampai rumah nangis-nangis bareng sama Kay yang gabisa tidur nungguin mamanya, bilang sama mas gamau lannut sekolah. Hari berikutnya udah mending pulang maghrib. Tapi buatku yang biasa super selow, ninggalin anak paling 4 jam, itu rasanya berat banget. Kalo udah sore rasanya terbayang wajah anak-anak. Rasa bersalahnya apalagi, sungguh wadidaw. Alhamdulillah mas sekarang ritme nya lebih selow, sepulang dari rs beliau pegang anak-anak sendiri sampai aku pulang. Tiap hari nguatin, "cobain dulu 1 bulan, namanya orientasi pasti berat. kalau cari ilmu karena Allah, insyaAllah anak-anak selalu dijaga Allah."

Laa haula wa laa quwwata illa billah.

[catboydogma]

Steady Out (ii)

vertical transmission masterlist

prompt: "please don’t move!”

warnings: torture aftermath

wc: 343

Tup was still asleep next to him, slumped over with one side against the wall and the other pressed up against Dogma, breathing unevenly with whuffly little snores. Dogma swabbed off the worst of the blood with his shirt, ignoring the strain it put on his broken fingers. He hissed as a scab pulled, wincing.

The sound woke Tup. He bolted upright, startling Dogma, and looked around the cell wildly.

“S’alright,” Dogma rasped, resting a hand on Tup’s leg gingerly. “S’fine.”

“Maker, Dogma.” Tup made a jerky little move with his hand as if he wanted to grab Dogma then thought better of it, instead brushing the tips of his fingers against Dogma’s wrist. “What—”

Dogma took a slow breath in, let it out, and tried to sit up on his own.

“Please don’t move!” Tup shot up in an instant, pressing a careful hand to Dogma’s shoulder and easing him back down to lay against the floor, which Dogma was pretty sure was just as bad, if not worse. It hurt. He’d never wished so badly for a thin, standard GAR cot.

“S’fine,” Dogma repeated, but he didn’t try to get up again. He pressed against Tup’s hand, just a little, the contact settling him into his skin.

“Just—stay still,” Tup insisted. His hand was warm enough to burn, or maybe Dogma was just cold. He was starting to regret taking off his shirt, but it wasn’t like it had been doing much anyway.

“’Kay,” Dogma mumbled, feeling around his mouth with his tongue. At least he hadn’t lost any teeth.

“We’ll get out of here. Hail the Republic.” Tup glared down at him, and it took Dogma a second to realize that Tup wasn’t glaring at him, but just glaring in general. If there was one thing Dogma knew about Tup, it was that he hated feeling helpless.

Dogma nodded in agreement. He didn’t see how they’d be able to get out of here or hail the Republic when he couldn’t even stand, but maybe Tup had a plan.