Severedstomach

SeveredStomach: I noticed that Boba was doing most of the heavy lifting at the moment.  I wanna see Paz doing something for Din, either he notices something because he’s known Din longer, or he just happens to catch on first.

Posted on av swmoddy

Eyeing the stew thoughtfully, Paz looked around the empty kitchen warily for a few seconds before reaching up hesitantly and removing his helmet to set on the counter, quickly sticking the ladle down into the stew, lifting it and pouring sauce and vegetable bits onto his tasting spoon.

He blew on it, reluctantly, knowing better than to stick the hot food into his mouth before finally tasting it, thoughtfully tasting the sauce as he put the spoon down and putting his helmet back on, his tense shoulders relaxing down as the HUD came up.

Even now, despite their covert being destroyed, being without his helmet was… discomforting to Paz and he knew Din felt the same, even if he was getting better about being exposed to Boba and Fennec.

But those two were different.

They were aliit now, allowed, Paz was just… slow. Struggling to adapt and there was no way he’d expose himself to any random asshole coming into the kitchen.

Thankfully none of the three of them blamed him, they were almost horribly understanding to Paz insecurities.

‘Then again, Din likely thinks the same about us and our treatment of him.’ Paz thought dryly, casting his mind back to when the other had fallen asleep against Boba’s knee in the karking throne room.

They had been so worried, Paz only barely managing to wait until the throne room emptied out before he picked up Din and carried him to Boba’s room. Boba still had to be the one to remove the helmet, Paz freezing up at the idea of doing it but…

Well, Din had simply been asleep as a proper check had told them, as confusing as that had been.

A bit of research, Din still sleeping, had given them the answers they needed.

It was that karking dumping thing again, apparently Paz cake had given the other dumping, causing Din to become so tired his body had shut down and he had fallen asleep this time. Fennec had outright printed out the dumping syndrome information for both Boba and Paz to keep an eye on, to know what to look for in the future.

The list wasn’t… pretty.

The list of symptoms were going to be hell on Din for sure if they didn’t regulate his intake. It also depressed Paz a bit to realize that several of the traditional recipes he had learned wouldn’t be so easy to feed Din, seeing as grease, fat and sugar could kick him into dumping syndrome.

It was actually why he was down in the kitchen, revising some of the old recipes, grateful that at least the medication Boba had gotten Din made it possible for the other to eat spices, as most mandalorian cuisine leaned heavily on hot dishes.

It meant that he wouldn’t have to cut that out of the dishes and Din would be able to eat at least partly what he was used to, even if Din generally survived on a diet of shitty rations and dehydrated stuff while on a hunt.

Still, while in the palace, Paz was determined to spoil the other.

Which meant reworking a few of the recipes from the Vizsla clan vast cookbook, a few which Paz suspected had come from other planets if he was honest, seeing as they contained ingredients sometimes only found on one planet and it was not Mandalore.

A sound echoed down the hall of the kitchen, a loud step and Paz tensed before he relaxed, glancing curiously at the door. Someone knew he was there and knew he was liable to pull a blaster on whoever showed up.

So, four possible suspect, the chef Boba hired, seeing as he already pulled a gun on her once for startling him and therefore she had started making deliberate noises in case he was there, Fennec, Boba or Din, as all three knew he was there at the moment.

Unconsciously, his lips twitched into a smile when Din stepped inside in his only his undersuit and helmet, the silver helmet looking about before the other padded over to him. “You’re making inglar?” Din questioned, pleasure in his voice.

Nodding, stirring slowly, Paz added another pinch of salt to the stew. “Yeah, figured you’d appreciate something hardy, since you’re heading out tomorrow.” Paz explained, forcing himself to not tense up when the bounty hunter leaned against his arm. The contact wasn’t unwelcome, just unexpected and he didn’t want Din to pull away.

“That’s kind of you, thank you.” Din hummed out, his vocoder crackling slightly.

He got a small snort and Paz continued stirring slowly. “Seeing how I messed you up yesterday, you deserved something hardy that wouldn’t fuck you up.” He couldn’t help but state wryly, smiling more when Din let out a soft chuckle.

“In all our defenses, we had no idea that would happen.” Din stated in a slightly cheerful tone, as if he hadn’t been upset as all hells the day before when he was informed. Not that he had stated as much but all three of them had gotten good at reading Din’s body language.

Instead of answering, Paz just curled his arm around the other in a one armed hug to his side, trying not to flush at the feeling of Din leaning into his chest. “Well, anyhow,” He cleared his throat, staring into the green tinted stew. “Your hunt tomorrow, wanted you well feed before you ran of into the desert. That’s where you’re going, right?” Tilting his head to glance at Din, Paz let his arm linger around him, seeing that Din wasn’t tense or moving away.

As he was watching him, he got to see Din nod. “Yes, Boba’s target skedaddled into the Jundland wastes, idiocy if I ever heard one. Either the tuskens are gonna get her or the heat will, if I don’t find her.” He snorted slightly.

Letting out a sharp snort of his own as he turned his faze to the pot on the stove, Paz simply nodded, enjoying the warmth of the other’s body. If there was anything Paz had come to learn, it was that Tatooine was hot as hell and that he was lucky to access as much water as he could to keep hydrated, all thanks to Boba. “Well, Boba does want the moron alive, but you know tusken signs, so if needed, you could barter with them.” He stated a tad dryly, breath hitching slightly as a low, warm chuckle came from beside him.

Honestly, if this was a year ago… he couldn’t imagine this.

But by Manda’s glass, he was happy he had it.

Aliit = Clan, family.

Severed stomach: Dumping is pretty common when it comes to gastric sleeve, especially in the start. One of the things you get is tiredness, does Din experiance it?

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Struggling not to let his head drop against Boba’s knee, Din blinked heavily at the blathering fool standing in front of the others dais.

The other had asked him to sit or stand on the dais in armor today, along with Paz, to make an impact as they had a war lord from another planet incoming to make deals and likely to scout out Boba’s operation.

Considering he was finally doing better, Din had jumped on the chance for some work and yet…

For some karking reason he was so tired, struggling not to slump against Boba’s knee. He had gone from standing at the throne side to settling down on the dais by the arm of the throne and the longer he sat there, the more tempting Boba’s knee looked as the conversation washed over him.

It didn’t make sense, Din shouldn’t be this tired.

He’d slept fine this night, he was taking his medication and he had a great lunch with Boba, Fennec and Paz, even if the latter hadn’t removed his helmet, still not at peace with the idea and had eaten behind a curtain. Hell, Paz had gone so far as to make uj cake for them to celebrate Din’s recovery.

The Vizsla clan recipe Paz had proudly boasted, telling all of them that the Vizsla one was better than both clan Wren and clan Rook recipes.

It had been deliciously sweet and spicy, sticky and slightly gooey on the top due to the alcohol syrup drizzle and moist and soft inside with chewy nuts and fruits.

Paz hadn’t often made it in the covert, special days only and sometimes for the younglings, so to get a whole tray of it. So even though Din could only eat some of it had been one hell of a treat and he had felt happy to do as Boba asked, his stomach a tad fuller than it should be due to him overeating cake.

Now he was just… so tired.

Why?

He couldn’t understand why and he didn’t want to embarrass Boba by jus-

A strong pull suddenly had Din’s head resting against Boba’s knee and before he could make much more than an aborted noise that his helmet didn’t pickup on, he felt a familiar and strong hand wrap around the back of his neck, bare, warm fingers pressing between his kute and cape.

Boba.

Boba had pulled Din’s head to his knee, was telling him to remain and Din slumped a bit with relief.

He of course didn’t realize how it looked as he let his eyes close, resting against Boba until he fell asleep. Din had slept worse places after all and with his helmet on, the feeling of people looking at him was familiar due to the beskar.

Now though… now they were looking because of Boba.

On the throne, his legs sprawled obscenely, Boba watched them with a grim gaze, his hand settled on the back of the neck of his shiny mando. On the left arm, Fennec sat, drinking spotchka as she leered at the court with lidded eyes. Behind the throne, leaning on the throne with his elbows was Paz, the cold black visor staring at the court unwaveringly.

It was a terrifying sight, especially with the sight of the gadaffi stick resting against the throne, Paz blaster canon on his back, Din’s beskar spear at his side and Fennec’s sniper rifle over her lap.

All of them looked armed to the teeth, dangerous and yet utterly relaxed, especially with Din sleeping against Boba’s leg.

Were they that confidant they could handle anything the rest of Tatooine or any rivals around the planet could throw at them that they could afford to be asleep or drunk?

The message it sent was terrifying.

Of course, the rest of the court didn’t need to know that three of them were worried about the fourth, Boba, Paz and Fennec all recognizing that something was up with Din.

Gingerly, Boba pressed his index finger to Din’s pulse point, inwardly frowning as he just found a steady, slow pulse and heartbeat.

Nothing seemed wrong beyond Din being so damn tired he actually fell asleep on the dais of all things, even as he quietly finger spelled to both Paz and Fennec that Din was simply asleep and not sick.

After all, his skin wasn’t clam, his breathing was steady and his heartbeat normal.

He was just exhausted.

But why…

If Boba was going to take a guess, he would imagine it had something to do with the others stomach, as many of the changes in Din’s behavior lead back to it. Though how it could be making him so tired, Boba wasn’t sure.

He couldn’t remember reading anything about sleepiness in relation to the gastric sleeve thing but maybe he hadn’t read it properly?

If it wasn’t for how important this meeting was, he would have stormed of with Din to figure it out now but seeing as beyond just sleeping, Din was fine, Boba was going to put a lid on his own nerves and coldly continue to observe the blubbering messenger in front of him with a stoic face.

Behind him, he could feel Paz shift, clearly the big mando itching to get to Din and either put him to bed properly or get him to the medbay, not that Boba blamed him. The King of Tatooine after all wanted to do the same.

Have Russal give him a scan and check his blood sugars. ‘Just get this over with and then I’ll take a break, take Din to the medbay.’ He promised himself mentally as he growled at the messenger, smirking humorlessly when the brat almost pissed himself in fear.

How the warlord thought to send this spineless brat to Boba, he’d never know, but the sooner he got his master’s demands out, the sooner Boba could reject them and send the messenger back packing.

Actually, maybe he’d send the messenger back, tarred and feathered, just for a point. ‘Or tied up like a hog and covered in graffiti?’ Boba mused to himself with humor. He knew that Yuna and Irv would be more than happy to deliver the little messenger back to his warlord if he did that.

Din let out a low noise in his sleep, nuzzling Boba’s thigh with his helmet, distracting Boba from his rather amusing thoughts.

Swiping his thumb soothingly over the nape, Boba couldn’t help but smile at the trust given to him, despite his own worry. ‘Rest well Din. Your trust isn’t misplaced.’

Yikes, is Din on any kind of medication? Vitamins? With a stomach like that, you’re suppose to be taking multivitamines at least, cause your body is taking up less food, so there’s less of what you need like iron and calsium.

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“Medication?” Din mumbled, shifting slightly on Boba’s couch, enough so he could look at the other. Earlier, Din had a dizzy spell and when he had almost fainted in full armor, Boba had sent everyone out of the throne room and pulled Din, Fennec and Paz to his office.

Fennec had stayed long enough to listen to Boba’s marching orders, assure herself that Din was fine and then she had set of with a harsh look in her eyes.

In the meantime, Boba had settled his arse in front of the terminal and Paz had simply settled on the couch and dragged Din down with him, carefully helping his dizzy covert member out of his armor, stacking the pile carefully on the caff table stationed in front of the L shaped sectional couch.

Then he had removed his own thigh armor.

Honestly, Din felt a bit stupid for not realizing what Paz was up to until his head was laying on the others lap, Paz slowly rubbing at his back and side with gloveless hands.

It had been tense at first, the sensation of being touched always feeling so startling but seconds after, he relaxed into it, the sensation of warm, comforting hands making him melt into the couch and Paz lap despite feeling a tad stupid wearing only his helmet.

He was actually drowsing when Boba spoke.

The King of Tatooine nodded slowly, frowning slightly at the terminal before looking at Din. “Technically, vitamins but yes, also medication. I noticed you have issues eating if something too spicy or greasy gets put in front of you. Acid reflux being common then but even on days you take it easy, you seem to have it a lot, right?” He raised his brows, corners of his mouth turned down in displeasure.

Din wanted to whine at the sight, he hated disappointing Boba and he knew the other was disappointed that Din hadn’t told him this himself. “I mean… yeah, I just… I didn’t want to be a-”

“If you call yourself a burden, I will literally bury you in sand,” Boba threatened with a small growl and Paz squeezed Din’s neck in slight warning, likely agreeing with Boba’s assessment. Then the man sighed deeply. “Din, we want to help you, but to help you, we need to know when something is wrong.” Boba stated more calmly.

Din knew the other two felt responsible for Din’s stomach issues, since they sat the bacta that severed his stomach to pieces.

But they had saved his life, he couldn’t see it that way, as blame.

But guilt never was logical, that much even Din could agree with.

So he sighed and nodded slowly. “Okay so… there are medications that help?” He stated a tad uncertainly, wondering why Boba had also mentioned vitamins. Was he suppose to take that too?

Jutting his head towards the terminal, Boba leaned back in his chair. “According to the holonet on those cosmetic places on the core elite, those that take gastric procedures for reasons often end up taking a drug called pantoprazol, which reduces the acids in their stomach. It helps you basically be able to eat mostly a normal diet.” He explained carefully.

Blinking, Din sat up at that. “A… normal?” He carefully but hopefully voiced. “Normal by core standards or…” Din licked his dry lips.

Tapping his fingers on the desk, Boba shrugged. “Not wholly sure here but what I can dig up seems to indicate that there are some pretty spicy meals you can eat while taking this drug. And that sometimes your body has to go through a first time dumping syndrome, whatever that is, for it to get used to certain dishes.” He glanced at the terminal screen, eyes flickering over the text before nodding, as if to confirm what he just said.

Din swallowed thickly at that, the idea of being able to eat tiingilar without feeling like crap making his mouth watering. “…Okay, where do we get that? The pantos thing?” Din rasped out, leaning into Paz hand when it came up to squeeze his shoulder.

Boba just waved his hand. “I’ll have it shipped in, get Russal to ensure its safe. But another thing is that you need vitamins Din,” Boba stared at him. “You fainted today and the blood sample I sent Russal says your anemic and you are in severe deficiency of several key vitamins. Its why you’re having dizzy spells and today you almost fainted. I imagine you’re having other symptoms of those vitamin deficiency that you just haven’t told us.” He growled slightly.

Din hunched in before turning and hiding in Paz, letting out a small, unhappy whine when he heard Boba sigh loudly. “You’ll be going onto both the pantoprazol and the vitamins as soon as we get it Din, this isn’t punishment but please, we can’t stand to see you like this.” Boba’s voice was gentle but Din still felt the need to hide as he clenched his burning eyes shut.

“It will be alright verd’ika. We’ll help you. You just have to let us help…” Paz murmured, his arms wrapped tightly around Din’s body. “Just… please let us help Din.” He tacked on, even through the modulator his voice sounded a tad desperate.

Din wished he could take of his helmet, press his face to Paz chest or neck and just disappear for a bit.

Still, he nodded, the metal scraping against each other, not wanting to disappoint his friends.

Verd’ika = Little soldier

Din’s gonna have to go through quite some healing with his stomach, the liquid diet and mash sucks to be on, when your stomach is first opened up and all that.

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Feeling the hand rubbing his back as he continued coughing up what he had tried to eat, Din wondered what in the world had gone wrong.

Initially, due to his forced stomach surgery so to speak, Din had been required to go on a liquid and semi solid diet, to try and recover and adjust his body. It had been difficult but thankfully, the chefs down in Boba’s kitchen had made interesting and properly seasoned food.

But finally, after weeks of first fluid and then semi solid, Din could finally eat proper food and Boba had quite happily put spiced poultry on the meal for tonight, with fried tubers and mandalorian spice mix sauce.

Din had been looking forward to it, had been delighted that finally he would be able to chew and swallow something substantial instead of being filled with liquids.

That he would finally get to chew on something, that he’d eat something with texture.

He had dug into the small portion, eagerly chowing down but knowing he had to pace himself… and yet…

The meat had seemed to get stuck on the halfway, it was slightly dry but Din had compensated with sauce and still, the meat seemed to get stuck on the way to his stomach and Din had ended up gagging and hacking up thick saliva to begin with and then…

He couldn’t call what he was doing throwing up, not really, not when it had never really reached his stomach.

As he hung over Boba’s toilet with Boba rubbing his back and Paz and Fennec hovering outside it, Din continued regurgitating all the food he had swallowed, what little it was, into the toilet, as if he was a child with no control.

His cheeks burned with excretion and humiliation and his stomach ached unpleasantly with a muscle spasms and yet fullness.

“Easy Din, easy. Just let it come up,” Boba murmured soothingly and Din let out a pitched whine before spitting up more of the thick saliva that had come initially. “You must have eaten to fast for your body to get with the program.” Boba continued, voice full of sympathy but thankfully no pity.

Spitting again, Din trembled as he waited for his body to force more food up but thankfully, it seemed like finally, it was done setting Din through hell and he slowly sank back on his knees to look up at Boba with an exhausted look. “…I hate this.” He rasped darkly, his voice raw from the food and saliva coming up, accepting the glass of water the other handed him to swish out his mouth.

He didn’t dare try swallowing any fluids though, not when his stomach felt so oddly full and awful. What if more food came up? Or the water?

No, Din would rather not have that again.

“I know, I’m sorry Din, I know you were looking forward to this,” Boba murmured, slowly settling his hand in Din’s hair to stroke the soft curls out of his face. “I can speak with the chefs, maybe it be easier to start with meat already stationed in sauce? Like a spiced stew?” He suggested carefully.

Din grimaced but nodded at the suggestion.

It would make it easier for Din to eat and a spiced stew wasn’t the same as semi solid or liquid, it would have texture for one, with meat chunks around. “…Could…” He swallowed thickly, looking up at Boba hopefully as the other raised a brow questioningly, the gnarled scar tissue mimicking an eyebrow. “Could you ask them to use some razzer tubers, those never fully cook and… and I’d like to be able to chew on something.” Din admitted carefully.

Amber eyes softened at that and Boba knelt down, wrapping Din in a hug that the other leaned into exhaustively. “Of course. I’ll also have Greve buy in some more of those nuts you like, get a stash of them only for you that you can munch on whenever you want. That’s some nice texture.” He stated promisingly.

Swallowing thickly, fighting tears, Din pressed closer into the other, smelling warm musk and body odor of Boba. “I don’t want to make problems…” Din hesitated, even as he rested his cheek on Boba’s shoulder, pressing his forehead into the crook of his neck as he set the glass of water down on the floor beside them.

“Saleucami almonds aren’t a problem to get, especially not for me,” Boba ran his fingers through Din’s hair, his deep voice lulling Din into a blanket of security. Boba’s voice never failed to make Din feel safe when it was pitched so low and he sniffled a tad. “And even if they were, for you, it be worth it. You know Two-Dee said you had to eat several small meals to get your stomach up to snuff and to keep your weight at a good place.” The king of Tatooine stated calmly but seriously.

To that, Din didn’t have much to say, he knew that he had to eat well to remain at his weight, to keep his muscle mass but sitting here after regurgitating the first proper meal he had in weeks… he felt rather despondent if he was honest.

The hand in his hair and Boba’s warm arm around him helped a tad though, the comfort the human touch brought.

Boba did that a lot, touched Din in a gentle and slow manner, always checking that Din was comfortable with it.

Initially, it had been hard, Din hadn’t been used to it but Boba managed to get closer, eased him into accepting and liking the affectionate touches. Maybe it was that Din had always been on his own and therefore he wasn’t used to being touched outside of violence, and therefore he didn’t associate it with anything good.

But Grogu and later on Boba, had managed to remind him how nice a comforting touch from someone you trusted could be.

The other’s hands were capable of much violence, of that Din had personally witnessed, everything from being able to crack a plastoid helmet to pieces, to snapping someones neck and yet on Din, they were always gentle.

Boba had never done anything towards Din that would make him distrust him.

He had never altered a deal they had midway, he had never raised a hand towards Din or anyone he cared for and he had never taken advantage of Din’s trust to to steal or dishonor him.

No, if there was anyone beyond Grogu who Din now could trust, it would be Boba, with Fennec quickly making her way onto the list.

Paz… was a difficult subject.

He both trusted him and yet not at the same time, their shared history making it difficult at time but… maybe, with time, he could trust Paz. Their past could not be rewritten but forgiveness and time could soften the harshest of insults and blows.

For now, Din was content to curl into Boba’s warm body, the feel of scarred skin against his own smoother one a familiar and comforting sensation with the blunt fingers scratching at his scalp and nape.

Severed stomach: Din will learn about his stomach now, won’t he?

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Carefully settling Din on the honestly lavish bed of his private room, Paz tried not to glance around too much.

Honestly, if he was right, then Din hadn’t quite decorated this place on his own, this reeked of someone wanting to spoil the beroya, without Din quite knowing how to do anything but accept the gifts he was given.

‘But its nice to know he’s been cared for.’ Paz couldn’t help but think, looking up as he heard a few quiet clicks and snicks. It was Fett, opening drawers and cabinets, finding clothes for Din.

Obviously familiar with the room.

Yup, this was the one that had likely bought in all the expensive and luxurious things of the room.

Din had a bad tendency to give away more than he should and keeping less for himself.

The entire tribe had been aware of it, it was one of the reason they put their best foot forward when Din returned from his bounties.

If they looked shabby, then Din was likely to only keep enough for the most basic of supplies for his own survival. There wasn’t a verd of the covert that hadn’t heard the medic grumble to herself about the amount of cauterized scars on Din’s body.

Something Paz had gotten to see when Din had been put into the bacta tube.

From toes to shoulder, Din had clear scars bearing the marks of the cauterize tool. Simply because the man kept as little bacta as he possibly could, giving all he could to the covert.

To the younglings of the covert.

Sighing internally as Fett continued rummaging around, Paz instead sat on the edge of the bed, gently patting Din’s leg. “Its good to see you awake verd.” He murmured, not quite bringing himself to admit just how worried he was.

Din peered at him, beautiful brown eyes peering over the dark veil of his robe. After a second, they curved in a manner Paz knew indicated someone smiling even if he had never seen this particular person smile. “I’m… gratified, to… see you Paz.” The man stated a tad awkwardly.

Snorting slightly, a tad bemused, Paz stared quietly at the other man, keeping his hand on the others leg. “…Din, I’m sorry.” He finally sighed, watching how the other tilted his head.

Like a puppy, curious, a tad confused by the state of his eyes.

“For what?” The other questioned, tone bemused behind the veil.

Paz could hear that Boba had gone still by the clothing drawers and cabinet, likely suspecting what Paz was apologizing for. “Well, for one, for trying to rip your bucket off you last we saw each other,” He stated a tad dryly, smirking when Din let out a small, amused snort. But the smirk faded quickly. “…But also for fucking up your stomach.” He stated a tad more quietly.

Brown eyes blinked rapidly at that before Din reached to his own stomach, pressing his hand to it with a low noise. “My stomach?” He blinked hard, eyes flickering a tad, as if he was trying to parse out what Paz wasn’t saying.

“When we found you,” Boba finally spoke, coming over with an armload of clothes in shades of soft blue and black. “It been two days at least, likely more and you were at death’s door. You’d lost a lot of blood and there was infection setting in, we had no other option but to set a bacta injection.” Boba low voice was as soothing as possible.

As if he was dealing with a skittish animal and not a trained mandalorian.

Din’s eyes turned a tad panicked before he took a deep breath. “…How bad?” He whispered, knowing the things that could go wrong with shrapnel in bodies and bacta.

Boba and Paz exchanged looks, both had been dreading this but there was no way around it. They had to inform Din about the damage to his body. What they had done to him, to save his life.

Setting the clothes slowly down on the bed, Boba sat on the other edge of the bed. “When… when I sat the injection, the bacta healed around the shrapnel,” He answered slowly, Din’s eyes focused on him. “It was… it severed sixty percent of your stomach, closing the injury around the shrapnel. The med droid says you have basically a gastric sleeve instead of a normal stomach now.” He explained carefully.

Din stared at him, eyes slightly wide.

Boba picked up the blue shirt, showing Din the sleeve and then tightening it, making the esophagus and then a section that was suppose to be the stomach that was left. “This basically, since the bacta healed where the cut was. The med droid had to remove the section that was cut away, clean away stomach acids and… just everything.” He finished explaining.

Paz had almost thrown up as he droid had explained to both him and Boba that it had to extract the part of the stomach that had been mostly severed, along with removing pus, blood and stomach acid that had filled the open cavities of Din’s body.

Brown eyes stared at the sleeve, flickering them over where Boba was showing Din’s ‘esophagus’, the new size of the ‘stomach’ and then the ‘intestines’. It was basically all one long line now as the med droid had explained to Paz and Boba.

Shifting, Din reached up, rubbing at his face then he nodded. “I… I see. That… okay. I… that means I have to go on a special diet… doesn’t it?” He whispered, snorting shakily when Boba gave him a surprised look. “I’ve heard of sleeve stomachs before, generally for rich core worlders of course but… yeah.” He breathed out heavily and then hid his face in his hands, shaking slightly.

Overwhelmed.

Paz didn’t know what to do.

He was good at comforting younglings, keeping verd together in battle but… not this.

But Fett apparently was.

Because he instantly dropped the sleeve and reached out, pressing his hands steadily down on Din’s shoulders,  thumbs pressing into the clavicle. Paz absently noted he wasn’t wearing his gloves.

Instantly, Din’s hands shot up and he wrapped his hands around Boba’s wrists, shaking still but focusing on gripping the wrists offered to him, his thumbs visibly pressed to the underside, getting Boba’s pulse.

“That’s it, deep breaths verd’ika, in,” Fett murmured deeply, taking a. obvious, deep inhale. And Din mimicked it. “And out,” A deep exhale and Din mimicked once more. “Repeat those for me.” The King of Tatooine murmured.

And as told, Din did, eyes trained on Boba’s face, his eyes focused on the man.

Slowly his trembling eased, though they didn’t fully disappear. Slowly, his eyes closed, dipping a bit forward as he gentled his grip on the other’s wrists. “…Vor entye.”

Only nodding, Boba let out a small sigh. “For now Din… don’t think about it. We can talk about it after you washed and slept… yeah?” He rumbled quietly, smiling slightly when he got a small nod. Carefully, the king helped Din to his feet. “I set a shower chair into the fresher, I’ll help you in, but will sit out here. That alright?” He got another nod.

Paz felt quite useless as he watched Boba slowly guide him into the fresher, Din stumbling slowly along while leaning on the other man. ‘…He needs rest, anything else can come after Din has rested.’ Paz decided firmly, knowing how exhausting bacta tanks could be.

Beroya = bounty hunter

Verd = soldier

Verd’ika = little soldier

Vor entye  = Thank you

Severedstomach, ph please tell me Din will be alright?

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Letting out a gasp as he woke up, Din flailed, his limbs heavy and smacking against something hard as he felt wet heat all around him and yet could breath at the same time. Muffled noises echoed around him as Din struggled to see, eyesight blurry and shaky as his toes hurt when they hit something hard.

Something blurry, green and black, moved in front of him and Din cried out, feeling frightened and claustrophobic as he couldn’t move anywhere.

Later, he’d feel ashamed of his behavior, later he’d realize he was in a bacta tube.

But in the moment, he just felt small and scared.

“Easy Din, calm down, breath verd’ika.” Boba’s steady, stern voice echoed in his ears, everything in Din focusing on the authoritative voice, being used to listening to the Armorer as he was.

Din whined with his emotions, shaking as he pressed his hands to the walls around him, a far part of his mind realizing he was in a tube. “B-Boba.” He gasped out, his breathing rushed.

“Yes, I’m here, can you see me?” The green and black blurry shape moved and Din nodded shakily. “Jate verd, you’re in the palace. We brought you home, you were injured, you’re currently in a bacta tube. Suvarir?” The voice kept being stern.

But that was good, it forced Din’s panicking mind to focus on it and it alone instead of how fearful he was and how trapped he felt. So he nodded, whimpering a tad still.

“Jate, ori’jate,” Boba’s voice was lower now, more coaxing. “You woke up earlier than expected, the droids were going to remove you from the bacta tube before you woke up. Just hold on another ten minute and they’ll get you out, alright verd?” He continued.

“K-Keep talking to me. I can’t… its not… I can’t in here.” Din gasped, hands reaching for his face, finding a mask over his mouth and nose, likely the oxygen but also more mask that lead over the rest of his face.

Boba had likely constructed this or had someone else make it, to ensure Din didn’t have his face exposed without his knowledge. His heart thudded a tad, relief and gratefulness echoing.

“Of course verd. I found a friend of yours while you were out.” Boba murmured, talking just as Din had asked.

“F-Friend?” A large, blue shape moved into view, other grey and black one moving around more smoothly than the other.

Someone walking. The grey and black ones must be the droids rolling around but the blue one…

Hope and fear had Din’s heart thudding against his ribs. ‘It… it can’t be… please… please be…’

“Hey there beroya, its good to see you awake,” Paz voice murmured, deep and steady through the vocoder and the comms giving Din their voices. “I got real worried when I got your signal.” He stated.

“P-Paz.” Din cried out, shaking in the bacta as he pressed his hands to the glass.

The blue shaped moved, dark brown gloves pressing over Din’s hands on the other side. “Yeah, I’m here. I’m good. Fett’s been a gracious host to me while you were in here.” Paz rumbled, grunting a tad as the black and green shape, as Boba, moved sharply.

‘Elbow into side.’ Din’s steadier mind supplied.

“He’s a kind of a shabuir, but he makes for a good sparring partner.” Boba grunted out, Din laughing shakily at that.

He could imagine the two trying to wrestle in the downstairs sparring arena, it was one of the cooler areas of the palace and was rather big. “H-He is,” Din agreed shakily, laughing more at the uttered ‘oi!’ from Paz. “He… used to… throw me around in the… the sparring ring… when we were small.” Din shakily got the words out.

“Oh he did,” Boba growled softly and Paz coughed. “You’ll have to join us down in the arena when you’re on two feet Din. Watch us.” Din could almost imagine the smirk on the King of Tatooine’s face.

“Emptying the bacta tube now.” A monotone voice echoed, Din jerking to with shock.

“Easy beroya, its just the medical droid,” Paz said quickly, his deep voice carrying a strain of worry. He was all too familiar with Din’s hate for droids, having been there when Din was rescued. “Its not goin to touch you, when the tube is empty and the harness is activated, I’ll carry you.” He promised.

‘Don’t like droids. Only IG-11. This isn’t IG. IG is dead. Don’t trust it.’ Din breathing was speeding up, even as the bacta around him was draining.

“Breath Din.” Boba demanded, voice once more stern and Din inhaled so sharply his throat hurt, eyes wide to keep an eye on things, to not miss anything as he finally saw both Paz and Boba, the bacta below his eyes, his body heavy as it hung in the harness, no longer just floating.

Boba was standing there without his helmet of course, clearly observing Din, his hands on a display that was likely the reason why Din could hear them. Paz was beside him with his hands still pressed to the tube. “G-Get me out, gedet’ye, gedet’ye Boba, gedet’ye Paz.” He begged as he got his feet in under himself on the floor of the tube, once more feeling claustrophobic and stuck, the sound of a droid so close when he was helpless making him shake.

Paz let out a snarl, so soft it almost didn’t get picked up by the vocoder. “Don’t beg, you don’t have to beg. You’ll be out, just a few more moments Din.” He promised.

Din let out another whine that turned into a relieved gasp as the tube unsealed, the front being pulled open by Paz.

Large, steady hands reached out, undoing the harness with swift movements, startlingly deft for the size of the owner and Din almost collapsed without the support.

Would have without Paz.

But Paz was there, pulled him out of the tube and into his arms, the armor cool against Din’s chest as he pressed his cheek to the cool, blue plate. Goosebumps broke on Din’s skin but he pressed closer, rubbing his cheek lightly against the beskar.

Safe, he didn’t even care that Paz had exposed his face.

Large arms came down around him, pulling him in closer. “Don’t look up. I won’t look down.” Paz murmured reassuringly, large hand pressed to the middle of his back.

“Kay…” Standing there, gooey and shaking, Din let out a soft noise as Boba’s hand came into view, a hooded robe in hand. Din knew that robe, it had a little inbuilt veil that could be fastened, showing only the top part of Din’s face, his eyes with the hood covering his eyes. Boba had it commissioned especially for Din’s comfort.

“Cover up verd’ika, lets get you to a shower to get all the bacta gunk of off you.” Boba rumbled, his steady voice familiar and just as safe as Paz.

‘Home…’ Covered in goo, standing on shaking legs with goosebumps on his body, Din couldn’t help but smile as he reached for his robe. “Ni’m yaim, Boba.”

Boba paused, letting out a small noise. “… Olarom yaim, Din.” He stated, voice low and full of warmth.

Jate = Good

Verd = Soldier

Verd’ika = Little soldier

Suvarir  = Understand

Ori’jate= Very good

Beroya = Bounty hunter

Shabuir = Jerk (stronger insult than jerk technically)

Gedet’ye = Please

Ni’m yaim = I’m home

Olarom yaim = Welcome home

Severed stomach: Don’t let Din die! D8

Posted on av swmoddy

They almost shoot each other, standing there in the shadows of Din’s ship.

That is something neither Boba or Paz will tell Din though, but they almost end up shooting each other as both are paranoid bastards and they’re both concerned.

To be fair, they are both answering different emergency signals, both are unaware of each other and both think the other might be the enemy that caused Din’s current situation.

Thankfully, outside of a warning shot from Fennec at Paz feet, nothing too bad happened… except wasted time.

Time they might not have, especially not with how long it took for them all to get to the planet, the lack of response from inside the ship highly worrying.

“I got the codes to get it open,” Boba grumbled as he made his way past the big shabuir in blue, already typing into his vambrace, his eyes focused on the ship he loaned Din, knowing Fennec had his back. “Din never changed them when he took possession of the ship.” He stated, knowing from the monitor program installed that Din hadn’t.

Paz, his cannon reluctantly shelved for now, nodded slowly. “Sounds like the verd’ika. As long as it wasn’t his personal room, he never bothered to changing codes to anything.” He sighed a bit, shaking his head.

You’d think Din knew better, ensuring his own privacy to rooms only he should have access to.

The ramp thankfully lowered, Boba correct that the codes were the same.

Instantly, all three tensed as the ramp finally extended into the muddy ground.

It was covered in rusty colored blood, dried blood.

Din’s blood.

Hissing slightly, his vocoder crackling, Boba marched up the ramp as quickly as his feet could take him, Paz right behind him with Fennec remaining outside to keep guard just in case. She wasn’t a medical expert, she wouldn’t be much help anyhow.

Following the blood, both males made their way inside, moving through the ships towards the cockpit.

Sending a mental prayer, Boba slapped his hands over the door controller, listening to the hiss as it opened to admit the two.

Instantly, Boba’s eyes fell on Din, the other collapsed into the pilot chair and he felt his breath catch.

Behind him, Paz let out a curse, moving past a frozen Boba.

Din looked dead.

His shiny beskar was covered in dried, rusty blood, Din’s blood, shrapnel was sticking out of his side, his arms and his legs. Din was slumped in the chair, his body lose with what Boba hoped was unconsciousness and he couldn’t see the others chest rise and fall.

Boba couldn’t look away from him even as he knows he should move and check on the other, find the medical kit, do SOMETHING.

But he can’t, his attention is on Din and Din alone.

His eyes roam over the way Din is slumped in the chair like a discarded ragdoll, abandoned by a child done playing rough. Can’t look away from the sight of the shrapnel embedded into the others left side, the warped metal as wide as Din’s hand and as long as his arm and Boba can’t tell how much of the blackened metal is inside of the other, how much damage has been done to the other.

Finally however, he manages to force himself forward as Paz yanked his own glove off and pressed his fingers under the helmet to get his pulse, Boba made himself breath as he reached up into the overhead compartment to the left, knowing there should be a medical kit there.

There was, it was fully stocked even from the looks of, the seal unopened.

“He’s alive but barely breathing, his pulse is too slow,” Paz growled out, Boba coming over with the case. “I don’t… I don’t know if we can move him.” He tacked on, deep voice sounding uncertain.

But alive meant there was still a chance.

Opening the case with a small growl, Boba dug through the case. “We can’t remove the shrapnel, he will bleed out in moments,” He agreed, listening to the shifting of armor. “But we can move him if we do this.” He pulled out a bacta injector.

Both stared at it.

The risk of injecting bacta into Din when he had shrapnel inside of him was high, many people suffered permanent organ damage from bacta injections before with shrapnel smaller than what was inside Din.

But they had no other choice and Boba reached out, pushing Din’s head to the side to pull down the high neck of his shirt. ‘If this causes anything permanent, forgive me Din. But I’d rather have you alive.’ He thought grimly as he set it, ordering Paz to find them a stretcher.

Moving Din was taxing, both Boba and Paz hesitating with precious moments while staring at the largest piece of shrapnel and both flinched when they heard an exhalation from Din as he was moved.

It hurt obviously, but Din was too far gone to wake up even with the stimuli.

Thankfully, the hoverstretcher made things easier on them, moving Din to Slave 1 and into the medbay, where Fennec stood watch over their injured bounty hunter as Boba attached him to monitoring equipment with Paz hovering at his shoulder.  “…We’re going have to be quick, return to Tatooine as fast as we can. He’s going to become infected by the shrapnel soon enough and it will turn his flesh necrotic.” Boba murmured as he removed Din’s bloody gloves.

His stomach twisted a bit with how stiff with blood they were, how much of Din’s blood must truly be soaked into it.

“I’ll go fetch my stuff, I don’t know the other ship, so Din’s things…” Paz trailed off.

“I’ll do it, I know where everything is. Din didn’t personalize the ship much but I know where his quarters on it are,” Boba grunted before turning to Fennec. “Remove his armor in the meantime, chest, greaves, vambraces but leave the helmet as usually.” He stated sternly, half noting the tenseness of the other mandalorian easing.

Ugh, the Watch and their helmets, made medical care difficult.

Fennec, normally being one for a sarcastic quip, simply nodded, her face drawn tight as she stepped in to work the chest piece off first.

He turned to Paz. “Ten minutes, and I take off. Tayli’bac?” He stated sternly, receiving a quick nod. ‘Just hold on for us Din, just a little longer…’

Shabuir = Asshole

Verd’ika = Little soldier

Tayli’bac? = Got it? Okay? Understand? (Often very aggressive.)

Yay, a new story! SeveredStomach had me on the edge of my seat!! So GOOD! So, what I want to know is this: How much of a close call will it be? I mean, I know you: Din lives, obviously. But! *stares eagerly in anticipation* Will it be obvious when he’s found that he’s alive? Or will there be an angsty moment from his rescuer(s) like, ‘oh no I was too late he is dead’, before Din proves to still be hanging on? (Either way, I will of course still be super stoked to see this continue! Can’t wait!)

Posted on av swmoddy

Tapping his fingers on the arm of his chair, Boba ignored Fennec’s sharp look from the side as he continued making noise. He had an excess of energy and needed some way to work it out and since they didn’t have a person Boba could bash into the floor, well, this would have to do.

Outside of the viewscreen, hyperspace flitted by in a shower of bright light and blue and nothing Boba could do would would make things go faster.

Din’s emergency signal had gone of, sent of by the man himself instead of the time limit Boba had installed. Had the cockpit been unused for a week, it would have sent of a message to Boba’s gauntlet but no, Din himself had sent of this one.

It meant that Din, reckless, stupid Din, had looked at himself and realized that he was in severe problems and needed aid and no amount of hailing on the comms had Din responding.

Boba wasn’t sure what that meant.

He could make some guesses of course but wasn’t sure which one would be the right one and human imagination could be so much worse than the truth. So he tried not to imagine what kind of situation Din had landed himself in even as he had stocked the medbay of Slave 1 to the brim with supplies.

The King of Tatooine trusted few, his position was still precarious and leaving wasn’t in his best interest but… Din…

Din, who had such difficulty in asking for aid for himself, Din, who Boba could trust with his own life and business, Din, who could not be trusted with his own life.

Din had asked for help for once and Boba would answer it and where he went, Fennec followed these days.

Plus, regardless how much she might feign disinterest, he knew she was fond of their silver covered mandalorian.

Which was why they were both flying through space to Atanan-V to find their lost bounty hunter.

Hopefully, they weren’t too late.

()()()

Landing the piece of scrap he had ‘borrowed’ from a scrapyard onto the muddy ground, Paz eyed the other ship with trepidation even as he knew there weren’t any living signs around, Paz having scanned the surroundings before he dared to land.

It wasn’t the Razor Crest and he wasn’t sure what to make of that.

Honestly, Paz wasn’t sure what to make of the emergency signal either, still faintly beeping on his gauntlet. Din Djarin was a stubborn son of a bitch and there had only been two instances before the covert was exposed on Nevarro that the di’kut had used it in all his bounty hunter years.

Both times Din had been on the verge of death and had they been any later, Din would not be here today.

If he was alive.

Paz wasn’t sure what he was going to find inside the other ship, if it even was Din.

But it couldn’t be anyone else, only Din, their beroya, had this particular emergency signal.

It couldn’t be sourced from a terminal, the inbuilt code meant it auto destroyed itself after a week, it had to input every week for it to be usable.

A security, to keep the covert safe, to ensure their beroya couldn’t be used for them if caught.

It could only be input by a person that knew it.

Din.

Just Din.

Their beroya, their breadwinner.

Disengaging the ramp of the barely flying scrap metal he had dared to fly, Paz hefted his canon onto his back and made his way out, knowing he needed to investigate, to make sure but not being stupid about it as he scanned the surrounding area with his helmet.

Good thing he did too, picking up the signals that the ship was currently active with defenses.

Paz paused uncertainly, staring at the ship. He wasn’t a slicer, had never had the patience or mind to learn that particular skill and seeing as how he should be visible from the cockpit, it meant that whoever was in there hadn’t disengaged it.

Or couldn’t.

Paz mind flashed to the last time Din had used the emergency signal, to the blood covered cuirass of the beroya as he was transported to the ship that had come to his rescue. ‘I don’t have that much bacta.’ Paz swallowed thickly, shifting on his feet, the mud squelching under his boots, dusky rain falling down around him.

When the signal had arrived, Paz hadn’t thought.

Just acted, as he often did if he was honest.

It could be counted as both a flaw and a pro honestly, a pro when in battle, acting quickly often saved his life. But other times, it landed him in situations like this, standing without proper gear and no backup.

The potential of a survivor from the covert had been too alluring, the idea of finding Din again slamming Paz with a need he thought he’d overcome by aiding Din with the foundling.

Standing outside the ship though, Paz wished he had thought to bring someone with him, to fill his ship with better supplies.

Because either Din was not in that ship or he was too injured to move and disengage the protections set in place.

Neither prospect was good.

Grumbling, Paz only got another minute of peace to stare at the ship before the sound of another ship in atmosphere had him tensing, his head snapping up and around to find a spot of growing darkness on the grey sky.

Another ship was approaching.

Enemies?

Or did whoever, be it Din or someone else, send for more aid than the beroya signal. Honestly, Paz hoped it was the latter.

Din would have been alone for a long time and the idea of him having backup was slightly soothing… but Paz wouldn’t know until whoever was arriving landed and since he couldn’t do anything else…

Paz settled to wait, his canon pulled of his shoulder and into his hands just in case as he moved closer to the ship without touching it.

If they were friendlies, they wouldn’t dare shoot on the ship at the very least. ‘Let us hope its allies, eh verd’ika?’ Paz mused as the ship came fully into view, an old Firespray from the looks of it.

Di’kut = Idiot

Beroya = Bounty hunter

Verd’ika = Little soldier

Din survives an explosion but there is permanent consequences?

Posted on av swmoddy

Shuddering as he stumbled his way to the cockpit of his loaned ship, Din tried to keep steady even as his vision swam and the pain threatened to down him.

He had miscalculated his bounty, so desperate to not be brought and suffer the consequences for her actions in that she had opted to detonate her own ship than to let Din take her in.

His armor had thankfully taken the brunt of the shock wave and even the heat that had come at him, even as his head was rattled by the force of it all but unfortunately his armor had not taken everything.

Several pieces of durasteel had sunk into his body, some smaller pieces in his left thigh and arm where the armor did not cover.

But the worst of it was in his side, about the width of his hand and the length of his forearm, sticking out from where Din had clamped his hand to the area and Din could feel the shrapnel burn with every breath he took and every step he made, the piece of warped metal sticking out of his side burning as Din futilely tried to press keep himself awake with the pain alone despite loosing blood, hoping to Ka’ra that he wasn’t cutting himself open internally with each step.

He didn’t dare try remove anything though, even as he wobbled with pain all the way to the ship Boba had loaned him.

His feet scruffing over the durasteel of the ramp as he made his way up, Din could only imagine the blood that would pour out if he tried. Removing it faced the risk of bleeding out for sure compared to the blood he had already lost, his supplies weren’t that waste and he wasn’t sure he’d be able to actually do enough for himself to ensure he survived.

Din had only one option, to activate the encrypted distress signals he had loaded up into the ship’s mainframe.

Well, one of them had been uploaded for him by Boba Fett honestly, the man scowling up at him as he told him that if Din was in problem, he was to activate the distress signal and Fett would aid him. Din half suspected that the signal would also activate if the ship wasn’t moved in too long but he hadn’t asked the other bounty hunter. He hadn’t wanted to question the man when he had been generous enough to lend Din a ship and gave him work, gave him purpose after Grogu went with the Jedi.

Din had been adrift, unsure and unmoored and Boba had been there to offer him work, work Din was familiar with on a planet he actually knew. Some might say that Tatooine was a dustball with nothing to show for it but Din enjoyed the warmth of it as long as he stayed out of the hottest part of the suns.

Shand also made for a decent drinking partner, the woman willing to sit there, listen and drink her alcohol as Din let himself empty out all the confusing and painful things left behind when Grogu was gone, never judging Din for doing what he thought was best even if she might not agree.

Honestly, Din wasn’t sure what kind of opinion she had on Jedi, he knew Boba at the very least disliked them if not outright hated them.

Din didn’t judge him for that, Boba had history, that much he knew and Boba’s past was his own thing. Din was in the other man’s debt, not only had he aided Din to rescue Grogu, he had also afterward given him purpose, equipped him and even loaned him a ship.

At this point, Din owed the man much more than he could ever really repay, even if the other bounty hunter and King of Tatooine had grumbled and told him that there was no debt before quickly changing the subject and lining up work for Din, work Din was more than happy to take pro bono.

The other, the one Din had uploaded, was the covert old distress signal.

It had been standard practice, the beroya was the breadwinner of the covert, the one to leave to bring in goods and credits.

But a single mandalorian against the galaxy… if the beroya ended up in problems they couldn’t solve on their own, the distress signal could be activated to summon backup or aid depending on what the emergency was.

Din wasn’t even sure if that particular distress signal would bring anyone to him, but he had to try.

He wasn’t sure how long he could survive with the shrapnel inside of him and Fett was on Tatooine with Shand in the palace, it was at least a four day trip, potentially five depending on the hyperlanes and if there was a planetary storm it could take another day before whatever rescue Fett sent to land.

If anyone from the covert was closer and responded to the signal…

Maybe, in the deep recesses of Din’s mind, he was also hopeful.

Hoping that someone had survived.

Sinking into the pilot chair with a cry of pain, feeling something shift inside of him, Din swallowed thickly and wrapped his arm more tightly around his side, dazedly looking at the dashboard for what felt like hours but must have been minutes, feeling unconsciousness threatening.

He couldn’t let that happen though, not yet, if he didn’t summon help first, he was going to die for sure if it wasn’t already too late.

Swallowing thickly again, Din pulled himself forward with a grunt as his gut felt like it was squishing around inside of him, shakily touching the controls and buttons.

He sent of two alerts and had mind enough to close down the ship and activate its defenses before he let himself sink back into the chair, hoping that one of the two signals would be answered.

The signals sent, Din let himself slowly but steadily sink into the darkness that is waiting on him ever since he got thrown across the muddy ground outside and had shrapnel embedded into his side. If he moves, he will make himself worse, especially in his shaky condition and therefore he has only one option now. To wait, wait and hope someone comes.

His last conscious thought is to send a prayer to the maker that someone will come for him. Because at this point, Din is quite thoroughly helpless as he slumps in the chair.