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firstofficerwiggles · 3 years

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Chapter 5: How the Paintball Battle Was Won

Links to Chpt. 4 , Chpt. 6

Pairing: The Mandalorian x female reader

Rating: T

Warnings: Canonical violence, PTSD for the reader, angst, hurt/comfort

Word Count: ~6400

Author’s note: So this chapter gets more angsty, but I promise it is sandwiched in there between some humor and some serious fluff along with some Domestic!Din thrown in there for good measure. I hope you enjoy reading this chapter! (Also, smut is coming in the next chapter for those of you who are thirsty for it.)

“Paintball?” You look up at Mando in surprise, “Isn’t this a game for teenagers?” He’s brought you to a dusty town on Baros with a few hole-in-the-wall cantinas and a sleepy looking marketplace in the middle of nowhere to play paintball?

“I wasn’t sure if it would still be here, but they’re open,” Mando sounds chipper. “I haven’t been here in years.”

“You used to come here and play paintball?” The idea seems ludicrous, that Mando, a seasoned warrior and top bounty hunter, would be playing a game that requires shooting brightly colored balls of paint at your opponents.

“When I was younger and first in the Fighting Corps, we trained here on Baros for a time. We used to sneak out when we had breaks between training sessions to come and play with the local kids.” Mando’s voice sounds nostalgic and happy as he remembers his youth. “I’m sure now that our commanders knew what we were up to, but it gave us additional fighting practice, so I don’t think they minded.”

You try to imagine Mando as a teen boy stealing away with his friends from a probably rigid training schedule to play fake war games with other kids. It’s a charming thought, but it’s hard to picture when you look at the man now. But he’s right, it would have been decent training too… oh, now you understand.

“This is so I can practice shooting live, moving targets.” You’re on to his plan.

“What?” Mando is all innocence, “I just thought since we’re here, we ought to have some fun.”

“I know you think I can’t tell, but I feel you smirking at me under there.” You tell him pointing towards the helmet.

Mando simply chuckles at you and gives your hand a tug towards the entrance.

“What about the baby?” You ask, hoping to stall a little, “He can’t play paintball.”

“He’ll be safe in his pram, and you’ll have a chance to practice protecting him too.” Mando replies. He’s clearly thought this out.

“That might be too advanced for me to focus on shooting targets and guarding the child,” you tell him.

“Yes, but I’ll be here to help you.” His voice sounds warm as he tells you, “You’re going to be great, c’mon.”

The owner of the paintball place seems delighted to see Mando and tells the rest of the patrons in the prep area that they are in for a real treat today. Most of the other people here are teenaged boys, but you’re surprised to see a couple of adults here too including a few other women. Perhaps you were too quick to judge. The teen boys are in sheer awe of Mando and after they openly gawk at him for a few minutes, they’re pestering the owner to find out if they can request that Mando be on their team.

“Teams will be by random draw as always, although people paying together will automatically be put on the same team unless they request otherwise.” The owner tells everyone waiting. “Now, please enter the locker area to suit up and stow away personal belongings.”

You’ve been given protective gear and a helmet to wear to ensure your safety during the game. While the paintballs aren’t lethal, they can still hurt quite a lot without protection. Mando watches as you gear up, and when you’re done you can’t help but goof around and strike a model pose.

“How do I look?” You can still manage to make flirty eyes at him, as although your helmet covers most of your face, the visor only has light tinting so your eyes are still quite visible.

“You’re adorable,” he tells you. It’s been a little over a week since your trip to Canto Bight and your first Keldabe kiss with Mando, and he’s been growing more affectionate with you, particularly with compliments. He’s still rather shy about physical affection though, almost as if he thinks he’s limited to only a certain number of touches a day.

“Ok, everyone, let’s go over the rules.” The owner calls everyone to his attention and reviews the rules of the game, which are basically, if you get shot three times in a ‘critical target area’ as indicated on your protective gear, you are out of the game.

“Today’s game is your basic brawl. The last team with the most players remaining when the buzzer sounds will be the winners. However, we have a special guest and special rules that will add to the challenge!” The man gestures towards Mando, “If you want to take out the Mandalorian, you need three hits somewhere not on the armor, and good luck with that!” The man says it in such a way that he’s confident no one will be able to get Mando out of the game.

Before the game begins, you check on the child to make sure he’ll be ok. He has his favorite silver ball and a couple other toys with him in his pram, and you’ve tucked in few snacks that he likes in case he gets hungry.

“Ok, sweetie, you’re going to play with your toys and keep the pram closed until Mando or I open it,” you tell him. He coos at you in response and you give his nose a little boop before securing the pram.

“Here, put this on,” Mando hands you a metal wrist cuff with various buttons, “It’s linked to the pram like my vambraces, so that way the child will follow you wherever you go.” He quickly shows you how the buttons operate.

You and Mando get assigned to the red team and are issued paintball guns filled with the appropriate colored balls. There are three teen boys, a man, and another woman on your team. The teen boys are vibrating with excitement at being on Mando’s team; they keep calling him ‘sir’ and asking for ‘battle advice’. Mando is very kind to them, and answers all of their questions in a serious manner. It’s quite sweet really, how nice he is to them, but you’ve noticed that’s generally who he is, so long as that person cannot be perceived as a threat. With your team agreeing on Mando’s plans for the battle, followed by a loud war cry whoop from the boys, you head out to your designated starting positions.

Your adrenaline is pumping and when a loud bell rings out to indicate the start of the game, you’re almost as keyed up as the teenagers around you. Mando’s plan calls for your team to be on the defensive and wait for the other teams to come to you, allowing you all to maintain better positions and hold on to better cover for as long as possible. It’s a good plan and fairly soon, some of the teen boys from the green team have charged over to your area recklessly, making them easier targets. You get off a couple shots, but your nerves get the best of you and you miss wildly. Fortunately, only Mando seems to notice as your other teammates are on target and dispatch the boys without anyone on your team getting hit.

“It’s alright, just breathe,” he tells you, “Remember you’re a good shot, I know you are.” He places a hand between your shoulders and rubs lightly to help calm you down. He points towards something moving in the bushes to your right and taps your shoulder. You can see another player advancing towards your position.

“Aim your weapon, take a deep breath,” Mando instructs you, “and shoot.” You pull the trigger and watch as your paintball splatters bright red on the other player’s chest plate. You remember quickly that you need two more shots to eliminate your target and so you shoot again. It ends up taking you five more shots but in the end, you’re victorious.

“I actually did it!” you squeal a little in delight and Mando gives your waist a small squeeze.

“Great job, cyar’ika!”

Hmm, there’s that foreign word again. It’s the second time he’s said it to you, and you think it must be Mando’a but you haven’t thought to ask him about it yet. You’re about to say something when a yellow paintball suddenly bursts on Mando’s left pauldron. You instantly whip your head around and fire off shots in the direction of the shooter. A sudden fierceness overtakes you in your determination to take out the player. You channel all your focus into your aim and once again, you are successful, only faster this time.

“That was even better,” Mando tells you, and your heart soars at his praise. He hasn’t even bothered to take a shot yet, he just seems content to watch you.

The game continues and it seems that the other players have caught on to your team’s plan, which leads to a break in the action. Everyone huddles together for a moment, and you realize the rest of your team are waiting for Mando’s instructions.

“So, Mando, what do we do next?” you ask him.

“What do you think our strategy should be?” he counters.

“Well, it seems like we’ve taken out quite a lot of the green team, so I say we head towards the yellow team’s area and try to lower their numbers more.” You figure this is the best way to ensure that your team will have the most active players in the end.

“Why don’t we finish off the green team first? You know, get them while they’re weak,” one of the other players suggests.

“No, her plan makes the best sense,” Mando says in support of your idea, “If we want to be the winners, we have to make sure the yellow team has more casualties.” There’s something about the way he says this that gives you a sense of pride. He’s not just going along with your suggestion because he likes you, it’s because he trusts your judgement and he agrees with it.

You set out in an attack formation as directed by Mando in search of the yellow team. He’s stationed you towards the rear of the group allowing the child’s floating pram to stay behind you, meanwhile he’s positioned himself at the front as an attractive target. You don’t love the idea of Mando making himself the bait, but you recognize that his strategy is logical as the challenge of taking out the Mandalorian will be too tempting for the others to pass up on and thus it should be easier for the rest of you to hit them.

The plan works perfectly and as a barrage of paintballs are launched in Mando’s direction, your team begins methodically targeting the yellow team. You try not to watch as more yellow paint splashes onto Mando’s beskar, because each time it does you feel a spike of irrational anger, how dare they shoot at your Mando. As for himself, Mando is finally shooting off paintballs of his own, but you get the impression that he’s doing so rather leisurely, like he’s not really putting in too much effort. Must be taking it easy on everyone.

Things seems quiet for a moment and you turn to check on the little guy’s pram. It’s still closed up and he’s safe and sound. You’re just turning back to look over your shoulder when a green paintball hits you in the side, right where there’s no padding. It’s surprisingly painful and you double-over, grasping at your side. Mando’s reaction is swift. He quickly dispatches the green shooter and then rushes over to you.

“Are you hurt? Do you need help?” His voice is full of concern.

“I’m fine,” you wheeze out, “just stings.”

“Take a moment and breathe,” he says as he tucks his left arm around you to hold you close to him while he proceeds to keep shooting with his right. It suddenly strikes you as incredibly attractive how he’s managing to comfort you and still fight at the same time.

You can’t keep yourself from telling him, “Maker, you’re hot.”

“What?” He looks down at you for a second, a little surprised.

“Nothing, I’m just impressed by you.” You laugh a little and pull away so you can go back to the game.

The game continues for a while longer and you’re astounded by how much you’ve gotten into it. You no longer feel nervous about shooting at other people and you’re caught up in wanting to help your team win. You get hit a couple more times, but luckily they manage to miss the critical targets so when the buzzer sounds, you’ve managed to be one of the ‘survivors’. You run over to Mando to assess his ‘damage’ and while he has yellow and green paint splotches all over his beskar, he has only one green spot on his arm in the unarmored section near his elbow, which means that no one managed to successfully remove him from the game either. After a brief count, your team is announced as the victors by just one player. Your whole team cheers and exchanges high fives as you congratulate each other.

“See, I told you it would be fun,” Mando leans down close to you, “You were great, I was impressed too.” He brings his helmet down to touch the crown of yours.

You don’t have a chance to say anything back as the teen boys are at Mando’s side begging him to take a holophoto with them. Mando dutifully poses with the boys as you help out by acting as the photographer. You pull out your own holopad and snap a few holos too for your own enjoyment later.

You return to the locker room to get cleaned up and back into your regular clothes. You’re securing your holster belt with its real blaster when you realize again how thankful you are that Mando’s gone out of his way to help you learn so much about fighting, even to the point where he found a way to make sure it would be enjoyable.

You head over to where he’s cleaning the paint off his armor with a bucket of water and some rags. It must be a bit hard to do though because there’s no mirror to help him see all the areas that need to be cleaned. You pick up one of the rags.

“Have a seat and I’ll help you get cleaned up,” you say as you motion to a bench.

“Thanks, it’s hard to do without being able to take it off,” he tells you.

He sits with his legs akimbo and you step between them to get better access to the beskar. Fortunately, the paint washes off without much effort, but there’s so much of it and you want to be sure to get it out of the small ridges and furrows of the armor.

“Thank you for bringing me here,” you tell him as you clean, “It really was fun and I think you’re right, it was good training.”

“You’re welcome,” Mando says warmly, and he brings his hands up to your hips to pull you in a little closer. He leaves his hands there as you move to clean his helmet and begins tracing little patterns with his thumbs. His touch is simple, but it makes you feel so fluttery inside. You look down at his visor and give him a little smile as you wipe a streak of gloopy green paint from the crown of his helmet.

“It drives me crazy when you look at me like that,” he tells you with his hands tightening on your hips.

“How am I looking at you?” Your smile widens.

“Like you have a secret and you’re daring me to find out what it is,” he says, his voice sounding deeper.

You chuckle, and as you finish cleaning his helmet you drop your lips down and give it a kiss, “Is that so?” you ask in a coquettish tone and you give him a wink.

Mando groans at you and pulls you in closer, “I’ve had enough being in public, let’s get back to the Crest,” he says. His words and the timbre of his voice fill you with dark excitement, and you nod your head in response.

You bid goodbye to your teammates and hurry out into the street, heading in the direction of the ship. You’re only a short distance from the Razor Crest when you hear a laser bolt whiz past you. You draw your blaster and turn towards the source of the bolt where you see five armed men bearing down on you, Mando, and the child. “Hunters!” Mando shouts to you as he returns fire.

Another blast comes from behind you and you whip around to see three more shooters trying to box you in. Like Mando, you shoot back, your fight mode coming out in full force. You manage to shoot one of the hunters in the chest and you see him fall. You don’t dwell on it though as you scan the area for a possible escape route. You feel Mando tug on your sleeve as he gestures to the left where you can see a small side street. You rush towards the street as fast as you can while Mando provides cover. You’re still wearing the wrist cuff from before so the baby’s pram is following after you. You feel a sharp burning sensation in your side and it almost knocks you to the ground, but your determination to get away is stronger and you push your legs to keep you running.

The narrow street spills out into a broader avenue that is now bustling with activity. You bump into people as you try to get away and it makes you stumble. You look around wildly for help but everyone seems oblivious to your distress. The baby’s pram is still right with you and you’re relieved to see it’s still closed up tightly. But where is Mando? You thought he was right behind you but now you don’t see him anywhere. You turn back to the narrow side street when you see one of the hunters come barreling out of it. He fires several bolts in your direction, one of which ricochets off the pram. People scream and scatter. A primal protectiveness surges within you as all you can think about is how you won’t let this man hurt your child and so you raise your blaster and shoot him twice in the chest. He falls to the ground, but something in you won’t let you stop. You keep moving toward him until you’re standing over him and then you shoot him in the head to make sure he can’t hurt either of you. You should probably feel guilty about killing him, but you don’t. You look down the street, worried that you’ll see another hunter heading your direction, but it seems quiet. You pant as you try to catch your breath and now you realize just how badly your side is hurting, you think it must be from before where the paintball hit you but when you look down you see your shirt is soaked with blood. You sag against a building as you realize you’ve been shot. A woman sees you and hurries over to help,

“We have to get you to a doctor right away,” she’s saying.

“Wait, I need Man-, I need to find Man- Mando.” The pain is making it hard to speak.

“It’s alright, your child’s pram is right here.” She doesn’t understand.

You sway on your feet and she quickly places an arm around you to help you walk. “Don’t try to talk, dear,” she’s telling you as she drags you towards a medical clinic. Everything is getting blurry and you fight to stay upright. When you make it inside the clinic, someone immediately pushes you towards a gurney and you collapse on it just before you black out.

Din is desperate to find you and the child. When he sent you down that side street, he succeeded in taking down most of the hunters. But one particularly large man, a Clawdite, had managed to tackle Din. That allowed another hunter to slip by and head down the street in pursuit of you. After stabbing the Clawdite, Din quickly trails the other man. His head is filled with worse case scenarios but when he finds the body at the end of the street, a sense of relief comes over him. It’s short-lived, however, when he realizes neither you nor the child are anywhere to be seen. Din can feel true fear rising in him that perhaps there were others and maybe you were both captured, when he remembers the wrist cuff he gave you and the tracking device he installed within it. He breathes a sigh of relief again when he pings your signal and realizes you’re nearby.

Din tracks your signal to the medical center, the sight of which makes his blood run cold because if you’re here that means that one of you must be hurt. He rushes inside but before he can ask anyone about you or the baby, he hears a frightened scream and then your voice shouting,

“NO! NO! Get away from me! NO!”

Din is back in full combat mode as he hurries towards the sound of your terrified voice. He finds you in a room with a round floating medical droid trying to administer an injection. You are curled up on the floor in a corner of the room with your hands over your face as you cry out in fear. Din shoves the droid out of the room forcefully before carefully approaching your huddled form.

“Shh, shh, it’s alright, it’s me, it’s Mando,” he says as he tentatively reaches out to you. “The droid is gone, and I’m here.”

You sob something that sounds like ‘Mando’ and launch yourself into his arms. You’re still crying hard when you get out the word, ‘baby’. Din looks around the room and thankfully he sees the child’s pram. He manages to reach the open button on his vambrace and the pram’s dome opens up to reveal the little one safe inside. The baby looks concerned at your distress and he lets out a sad-sounding coo.

“He’s alright, cyar’ika, the baby is safe, you did so wonderful protecting him.” Din holds you and runs a hand over your back, and he continues to whisper soothing words trying to calm you. A noise at the door causes him to look up and see two nurses there who are trying to figure out what all the commotion is.

“Sir, who are you and why is this patient out of her bed?” one of the nurses asks indigently.

“She’s terrified of that droid, you can’t let it near her again,” Din says, scooping you up in his arms and helping you back to the bed.

“Alright,” the other nurse says in a kinder tone, “but you can’t be back here unless you’re family.”

“I’m her husband,” Din snaps, knowing they won’t argue with that, “Now can someone tell me what happened?” His voice is demanding and rough.

“I’m sorry, sir, your wife was shot in the side,” the kinder nurse explains, “She’s lucky because the bolt missed her vital organs but she will need some time to heal. The droid was only going to give her a bacta shot.”

“She’s scared of that droid,” Din repeats, “Can’t one of you give it to her?” His tone of voice makes it clear that it’s a demand not a request.

“Maybe she’s just scared of the shot,” the indigent nurse says, a slight scoff to her tone.

“The shot is fine, just please not the droid,” you manage to say in a weak voice. You look at Din as you explain, “The Empire used medical droids for torture.”

Din remembers how you told him you were punished by the Imps when they discovered your sabotage, but you’ve never gone into details about that punishment. He has some idea now what they must have done to you, and why seeing another droid like that would cause such a negative response.

“No more droids are to come into this room,” Din instructs the nurses.

“Of course, sir, I’ll give her the shot myself,” the kinder nurse tells him, “I’ll be back in a moment.”

Din turns back to you and reaches up to smooth the tears from your cheeks. “It’s going to be okay, I won’t let anyone or anything hurt you.”

“Will you please stay with me?” you ask and you grip his hand tightly as if he might disappear.

“Nothing could make me leave you,” he says as he caresses your face.

A soft whine floats over to Din and you from the pram as the little one wants to know what’s happening. Din steps away from your side to quickly pick him up and bring him over to the bed with you. At first Din tries to just hold him close to you, but the child isn’t satisfied with that. Instead, he quickly climbs out of Din’s arms and onto the bed to nestle up against your chest, he then reaches up to touch your face with his little hand.

“Hi, buddy,” you say softly, “I’m so glad you’re here.”

Din watches the two of you as a vast sense of gratitude washes over him; he’s so very thankful that you both are safe now and no lasting damage has been done. He holds your hand again and brings his helmet down to your head allowing him to watch over you and the child as close as possible.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Several hours later, you are doing much better after the bacta shot has done its work and the medical center releases you to go home. Din swipes a hoverchair and quickly steers you back to the Razor Crest; he insisted that you shouldn’t walk all the way back to the ship. Once on board again, he gets you safely tucked into your bed still with the child cuddled up against your side. The little guy refuses to leave you alone and even demanded to ride in your lap on the way back to the ship instead of returning to his pram.

With the three of you safely in space, Din returns to the hull. He’s pleased to see you’re resting comfortably as you talk softly to the child and he sets about to prepare some dinner for the three of you. It’s been hours since any of you have eaten and he’s sure you must be hungry. Din’s not as good a cook as you are, but he tries to add the little touches that you do for him like cutting up the fruit and arranging it on a plate, and adding honey to your tea the way that you like. When he brings your dinner over to you, he notices that the child has managed to use his powers to bring several of his stuffed toys over to your bed and he seems to be arranging them around you for additional snuggling.

“You’re doing a great job as a caregiver, buddy,” Din tells him chuckling.

“I keep telling him he’s being so sweet sharing his plushies with me,” you respond with a soft chuckle of your own.

Din helps you sit up, before handing you the dinner tray.

“Do you need help eating?” He asks concerned.

“Nah, I’m fine, Mando,” you tell him, “Really I feel much better; I don’t think I need to be in bed anymore.”

“You’re staying in bed for the rest of the day, and probably tomorrow too,” Din replies pointing his finger at you the way he does when he disciplines the child sometimes.

“Yes, Nurse Mando,” you reply cheekily.

“That’s right. Now eat your dinner before I feed you myself,” he says with a nod of his head.

After you’ve eaten, you’re still sitting up in bed and now you’re playing a little with the child and his plush toys as you tell him a story. Din can hear in your voice though that you’re tired and even though he knows you are doing better, you need your rest.

“Ok, kiddo, I think that’s the end of story time.” He comes over and picks up the child despite his little whines of protest.

“It’s alright,” you say softly.

“No, you need to get more rest,” Din tells you, “Besides, it’s time to get this guy cleaned up before he goes to bed.”

You can hear the sounds of water running in the fresher and Mando saying “Don’t look at me like that, she needs to rest so she can get better,” and it makes you smile. Both of your guys are being so sweet as they take care of you. You stretch back out against your pillows and close your eyes, and before you know it, you’ve drifted off to sleep.

When you awaken a while later, you see Mando sitting on a crate near your bed reading something on his holopad. He’s taken off his armor and is now more relaxed in his undershirt, trousers, and helmet only.

“Mando, is everything alright, what are you doing?” You’re surprised he’s not in bed himself or up in the cockpit where he’d be more comfortable.

“I didn’t want to leave you alone in case you needed something,” he tells you.

“That’s very sweet, Mando, but you must be getting tired,” you say.

“It’s nothing I can’t handle,” he replies. You know he can go for long stretches without sleeping, but it’s really not necessary now. Maybe there is a way you can get him to rest at least.

“You could come lie down with me,” you suggest and give him a small smile.

“There’s nothing I’d like better, but you’re hurt and you need to rest,” he says, but it’s clear from his tone that he’s tempted by your offer.

“I won’t do anything more than just cuddle with you, I promise,” you counter, and you give him the flirtatious look that you know he likes. It works like a charm and although he lets out one of his long-suffering sighs, he’s standing up and moving towards the bed.

“Alright, we’re just going to cuddle and you are going to rest and try not to move too much.” Mando may be trying to sound stern, but there’s an eagerness to his movements that gives away how much he wants to join you in the bed.

He lies down next to you on his back and puts his arm around you pulling you close to his side. You shift your position so that you can place your head on his chest and rest your hand on his stomach lightly. This way you can lie on your good side and take any pressure off the side that needs to heal. As you settle into him, Mando lets out a sound of contentment making his chest vibrate beneath you.

“Thank you, this is nice,” you tell him, “Plus, you’re so warm and cozy.”

He chuckles at that and rubs his large palm across your back, “It’s getting to where I can’t say no to you.”

“I see no problem with that,” you reply and you give his chest a kiss through his shirt.

“Mmm, I bet you don’t.” His chest rumbles again pleasantly against your cheek.

“Mando, I didn’t get a chance to really thank you earlier, but I want you to know you really helped me back at the med center.” You hope he understands how important he was for you in that moment.

“You don’t have to thank me for that, I could see how terrified you were and I knew you needed me.” Mando says softly and pulls you tighter to him. He pauses and then asks you, “When you said you were punished by the Imperials, did they… torture you with the droid?”

“Yes,” you tell him in a flat voice, “It would give various shots to induce different types of pain. It was horrible. Seeing that droid today felt like being back there, back in that terrible place. I- I don’t want to talk about it too much.”

“I understand,” Mando tells you, “I hate droids… well, there was one once who wasn’t so bad, but mostly I hate them.” His voice is gruff as he tells you this.

“Why do you hate them?” you ask.

“My home was destroyed by droids,” he says, “Everything was gone, my town, my friends, my parents, all killed.”

“Oh, Mando, how awful,” Your heart breaks for him, “That’s devastating. I’m so sorry for you.”

“I was only a child, and I would have been killed too if not for the Mandalorians who rescued me,” he explains.

“You were a foundling too,” you say softly.

“Yes,” he replies.

You’re quiet for a bit as you stroke his chest in a soothing manner. You know he’s supposed to be comforting you, but you want Mando to know that you’re here for him too. He brings his other hand up to cover yours. You realize that his glove is off and for the first time you are touching his bare skin. Your breath catches in your throat at the sensation and you revel in each tiny movement that he makes as he slowly explores your fingers with his. His hand is large and warm, and you marvel at how delicate and gentle he is as he touches you.

“You skin is so soft, cyar’ika,” he murmurs to you.

“Thank you,” you say softly, but then you can’t help but ask, “What does that word mean, cyar’ika?” He’s called you that a few times now and your burning curiosity can’t wait any longer.

Mando chuckles lightly, “Aren’t you the code-breaker? What do you think it means?”

“Oh, I see, a linguistic challenge, hmm?” You’re willing to play along and you take a moment to think.

“Well, you’ve used it in place of my name, so it could be a nickname, but based on context, I’d say it’s a term of endearment.” You lift your head up to look at him as you propose your theory.

“What do you mean?” He questions, intrigued.

“Well, if it were a nickname, I think you’d use it more frequently, and by my count you’ve only said it four times, which makes me think it must be more special than just a nickname. Plus I know you’ve said my name more often than that.”

“Oh?” He sounds amused.

“Yes, and when you said it was important too,” you explain, “Twice you said it when I was very distressed and you were sure to use a calming tone, but then, the other two times were when you gave me a compliment, and those times, you had a more romantic tone.”

He’s laughing openly now and shaking the whole bed as he does. Oh no, you’ve nerded him into hysterics, “Sorry, am I being too analytical?” you ask him sheepishly.

“No, no, I love how logical you’re being, cyar’ika,” he emphasizes the word again and his voice is caring as he tells you, “I’m impressed and entertained by how you think. I had no idea how much thought you’d put into it.”

“Well, am I correct though?” You’re still dying to know.

“Yes, you are,” he says between chuckles, and you smile up at him in response. He calms down a bit and then tells you, “It means sweetheart.” His voice is deeper as he says the word in Basic and you feel your stomach flutter in delight.

“I like that, Mando, I like it a lot; it’s such a beautiful word,” You wish you had a term of endearment for him that would sound even half as beautiful.

“Din,” he says to you.

“What?” you reply confused.

“My name is Din, Din Djarin,” he introduces himself to you, “I’d really like for you to call me by my real name.”

“It’s an honor to know you, Din Djarin,” you reply in as warm and loving a tone as you can, trying to show him how much it means to you that he’s sharing something so personal.

“The honor is all mine, cyar’ika,” he tells you and he squeezes your hand to punctuate his words, “You mean so much to me, I don’t know what I would do if I lost you.”

“I feel the same about you, Din.” Lying in his arms, it’s easy to tell him how you feel, and you realize how much you want him to hear it. “I was so worried when we were separated today, but when you found me, and I knew you were there, it just felt right, like I knew everything would be all right.”

Din pulls you in closer, hugging you as tight as he can without hurting you. He feels your arm snake around his waist to hold him tighter too and he feels a sense of true serenity. It’s a new emotion for him or at least one he hasn’t felt since he was very young. The two of you stay like that for a long time and as he listens to your breathing, he thinks perhaps you’ve fallen asleep. He relaxes his hold on you and thinks that maybe he should try to slip out of the bed so that you’ll rest properly, when he feels you stir.

“Din, will you teach me more Mando’a?” you ask, your voice sounding dreamy.

“Yes, but not tonight, you need to sleep,” he says softly but firmly.

“Ok, good,” you reply with a small yawn.

You settle back in to the bed a little and pull up the blankets around you more. Din starts to pull away from you little by little, but you’re having none of it and you grip him tighter.

“Are you trying to leave?” you ask, sounding only a little pouty, “Don’t you want to stay and cuddle?”

He sighs, “You need your rest, and I’m distracting you from that.”

“I’ll rest better with you here,” you insist.

“I’ll stay if you promise to go to sleep now,” he replies.

“Ok, I’ll go to sleep.” You’re quiet for a few seconds, but then you whisper to him, “Din?”

“Yes?”

“Goodnight,” you whisper, “I hope you sleep well.”

“Cyar’ika?”

“Yes?”

“Stop talking.”

-----------------------------------------------------------------

Thank you so much for reading! Continue to Chpt. 6 Where no Mando Has Gone Before. If you’d like to be added to the tag list, just let me know!

By the way, do you all remember that droid from a New Hope that gave Leia the shot? That’s the one I was thinking of when I came up with how the reader was punished by the Empire. That thing gave me nightmares for weeks when I was a child.

Tag list: @overtly-cuteashell @grogusmum @imabeautifulbutterfly @wellofeternalthirst @idreamofboobear @theamuz @fangirlalexia @callmekane @im-the-nerdiest-of-them-a11 @theravenreads @nicotinebirds @boomtownboy @nova646 @wandering-storm-lost-shadow @becks-things @sleepwithacommunist @mackycat11 @som3thingcr3ative @punkdalek @pinkninja200 @s-unflowxr @ladyjenny19 @peppywitch @haley7242

#the mandalorian #din djarin #the mandalorian x reader #din djarin x reader #the mandalorian fanfiction #din djarin fanfiction #the mandalorian x female reader #din djarin x female reader #the mandalorian fanfic #din djarin fanfic

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hydradrive · 3 years

Text

Go Hellnalysis (aka : hydradrive gets mad at the fanbase for ignoring go’s ongoing 2 season long breakdown for like, 5+ paragraphs)

We are talking S1 foreshadowing as it relates to the facts of S2. As already mentioned, I think it sucks of the writers to do it to him like how it sucks how they treated Emma and Aoi throughout the entire series and reeks of colorism like. having your two darkest skinned characters be actively antagonistic as s2 goes on is a bad fucking look.

But it’s there, and I am not happy that people defend Lightning weirdly when he treats people he knew for years badly, and then turn around and say wildly fucked up shit about Go.

I guess today is the day i Get Into It Again. I’ll be rehashing some of my points from my old thread on nac, so strap in i guess.

This is said to Playmaker in season two.

‘After i lost to you’.

So, by episode 4. And the text backs this up. The text in season one aligns.

In Go Onizuka VS Genome :

[ transcript for subbed text:

Dr. Genome : Did your defeat at Playmaker’s hands force you to evolver?

Go Onizuka : As much as I hate to admit it, yes. That was when everything changed.

/end text screenshot id ]

That was when everything changed.

Let’s look at the rest of it, then. How it affected him, in the long-term. The Go Analysis... Is here.

MASSIVE CWs for discussion of canonical weight loss, brief discussion of disordered eating in the context of that, and a whole bunch of other stuff re: the brain hack that I don’t even know how to tag, really. medical? Basically, if you have any triggers relating to that, please exercise due diligence because I will not pull any punches about the implications.

tldr version :

This is real dialogue from Go Onizuka’s first (and only) duel against Revolver.

No matter what he says trying to spin it a different way after this segment of text, that it’s about fighting for yourself, these statements exist, and they exist with the context given by his own words; that he was struggling, mental health-wise, when he said these words.

[ transcript for subbed text:

Go Onizuka : Until now, I’ve battled in front of huge crowds. (There is a single beat frame, to indicate silence.) But I realized I’m all alone. There are no fans rooting for me here. I realized... We always duel alone. We fight for ourselves, not for anyone else.

/end text screenshot id ]

But perhaps this isn’t compelling enough for people. Fine. Let’s go even further back.

[ transcript for subbed text for screen readers : Go Onizuka : It’s my fault that Makoto is in this condition. /end text screenshot id ]

Go has an easily seen habit of assuming the worst, and with regards to stuff like Makoto, blaming himself, to the point that if his manager hadn't said more on Makoto, he would've been going into VS Genome blaming himself for Makoto getting into duel monsters in the first place.

In episode 5 it was shown that with one loss he was entirely certain that nobody would care about him in any capacity:

But why?

... It’s brought up in one of the first episodes of the entire series.

[ transcript for subbed text for screen readers :

Go Onizuka’s Manager : That’s exactly it. It’s a winner-take-all world, after all.

/end text id. ]

And given an even more... depressing? Spin later, when Go thinks about it throughout S1 and S2 during his duel with Takeru:

[ transcript for screen readers :

Before I was placed in the orphanage, I only relied on myself. The world I lived in was all about survival of the fittest. “You must protect yourself” was my credo.

/ end text screenshot id ]

It’s genuinely that simple. He slipped back into his old way of surviving because the way he did in season one didn't. save him. it didn't save him from a duel he needed to win, not just for himself necessarily. he would have died if playmaker had lost. a lot of people would have. He was already starting to have these doubts about his entire reason d’etre for dueling, and his loss only further spurred it on.

It’s repeated, again and again:

[ transcript for screen readers :

Go Onizuka : For everyone to appreciate me, I must win!

/end text screenshot id ]

That sentiment. “People won’t like me if I lose.” “People will abandon me, if I lose.” In his own words, his losses, losses in duels that were important, rotted him. And it /is/ true. His manager said he’d leave if he went to try and stop the Tower Of Hanoi and lost. And he followed through with it, by all implications. He didn’t come back until season 3. Keeping in mind that Go’s self-hatred spiral regarding guilt over in his mind dragging Makoto into the mess that was season one-era Hanoi shenanigans was only cut off because his manager and other people talked him out of it... Yeah.

This is before we bring in the other complicating factor : a certain little company, who never did anything good for anyone. A man, who despite supposedly being well-intentioned, did very little to help, until it reached the darkest point.

[ transcript for subbed text for screen readers, since that’s the primary important stuff :

Akira Zaizen : But we don’t intend to acknowledge that the network was on the brink of destruction. So I ask you don’t cause the press to delve into this.

/end text screencap id]

People focus so much on him yelling at the press because they keep asking about Playmaker but with this context?

[ transcript text for screen readers:

Akira Zaizen: You’ll continue to be the focus of the press. /end text screenshot id ]

He’s not allowed to talk about how you nearly died.

He’s not allowed to talk about what really was at stake.

In fact, he’s not allowed to even act in a way that makes people even a little suspicious about what happened.

And yet.

‘But he could just ignore this advice’ . Not really. Go Onizuka’s platform was built in Link Vrains. Being the whistleblower about the actual danger of Link Vrains would not endear him to Sol, and potential backlash from Sol, from everything we know about the company? Hmm, gosh, wonder why that might be bad. Almost as if Go is basically a livestreamer who is at risk of having the video platform he exists on die.

It would be incredibly difficult to continue working under the public eye like that. The stress from that alone would start tearing someone to pieces.

Ergo, his decision to work for Sol Technologies as a bounty hunter. Both jobs now hinge on him currying favor with a horrible megacorporation, one just has less baggage from his past way of surviving and gives him the ability to talk a tiny bit more freely about things.

This is all the leadup, of course, to the ultimate lowest point. The duel chip. Brain hack.

[ transcript text for screen readers: ‘By implanting this duel chip, the brain’s thought capabilities expand.’ /end text screenshot id ]

[ transcript text for screen readers:

Akira Zaizen: You can always refuse.

Go Onizuka : Your methods are dirty. You guide me to the gates of hell, but you don’t care what happens afterwards. /end text screenshot id ]

Let’s talk about the physical side-effects of the brain chip on Go Onizuka.

Me, personally? I genuinely wonder what came first; the most severe physical side-effects or a worsening of Go’s mental health that made him stop eating.

It’s never stated what came first. We only see the mental health side effects of the chip in flashbacks initially.

I looked at one of the instances where Akira pulled go out of the sim wrt: the listed sys/dia ratios on-screen. They have those in certain shots, btw! They’re consistently really fucked up!

Here’s what those were, in one very notable instance:

... So, right off the bat, a heartrate of 195, huh.

And a sys/dia of 187/112 with a mean of 136. Wow! I wonder what that means for him!

I can tell you.

He statistically would be in the range of having a hypertensive emergency. Having rates like this can damage your heart muscle when you don’t literally have a heart attack, hypertensive encephalopathy, ( which can cause dizziness and altered levels of consciousness, if we are getting into it.), kidney failure, coughing up blood...

I don’t want to speculate too much about why the Duel Chip caused this, but I will note that blood pressures like this sometimes come about as result of issues with the neuroendocrine system. This would tie in with a loss of appetite and some of the other things Go seems to canonically have had from the getgo of having the chip installed, and probably added on to his already pre-existing mental health stuff which I personally parsed as depression.

... I think this mostly covers the main points of what gets missed. Aka, literally all of his arc. Just, literally every piece of his arc. People miss all of it.

Also, to reiterate : it is NOT GOOD the way this is framed by the writers. it is loaded to, in a series heavily informed by the main character’s trauma, have a teenaged darker skin character ( Go is 19!! ) be portrayed as more erratic, etc etc. I do Not care about Lightning. He is a little robot, and while there is probably some ableism in the way trauma is represented therein as a corrupting force, it is far more worrying how Go is treated in terms of representation, and I am not going to bat for the guy who treated Haru like dogshit lmao.

The fact that one of the two darker skinned MOC is given more obvious mental/physical illness signifiers in terms of symptoms to mark them as antagonists (when, again, Yusaku literally CANONICALLY HAS PTSD) fucking blows, and I’m going to personally fight the writers.

But. I am also laying the blame at the fanbase’s feet for this shit, too. They literally ignored this to coo over Lightning. I’m going to bite them.

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