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the-kittylorian-writes · 1 year

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“A Future Yet Unknown”

Rating: General Audiences

Type: One-shot

Word Count: 1k+

Summary:

As Din Djarin leaves after consulting with the Armorer in the Covert’s new hideout, someone else stops him on the way out.

Spoilers for s03ep01

Read on AO3 or here:

“A Future Yet Unknown”

“Then I will see you again,” were Din’s parting words with the Armorer.

That was all Din could believe for himself in that moment. Those were words he reassured himself with, more so than with anyone—that all roads would lead him back to his Covert, one which had sheltered him, cared for him, and taught him how to fight. The Tribe whose lessons helped him measure the odds that both plague and adorn his existence.

This was the home he had ever known, before Grogu, and after.

Din’s shoulders felt heavier from a huge unknown burden. He was walking away once again from this only identity, to go forth and prove himself for a place among his brothers and sisters when he returned. It was fortunate that many have recouped to this planet and were rebuilding in small ways.

He thought he heard another pair of footsteps other than Grogu’s, and Din stilled.

The footsteps were light, yet full of promise. They were also the footsteps of a child.

“H-hello…” said a young voice.

Din turned to face its source.

Grogu had already made his way to the tips of Din’s boots and looked up to follow his father’s helmeted gaze.

A Mandalorian child stood before them, and from the looks of the boy’s helmet, it was newly forged and painted.

Din recognized the child. It was the newly converted young warrior of the Tribe.

Din said nothing. He shouldn’t linger, but he felt compelled to stay a minute longer for this child.

Having sought Din’s attention, it seemed the child grew bolder. His little voice filled the air.

“I—th-thank you. Thank you, mister, for saving us back there with your missiles… sir.”

The child stooped a little, as if unsure. While the boy’s movements were subdued, he appeared very much willing to converse with Din, perhaps not knowing who this silver-clad Mandalorian really was. Din was no longer of the Tribe… at least, for now.

Din couldn’t think of any other reply but to give the boy a wordless nod. He was about to turn heel and exit the cave, but Grogu stood so still. Din stopped to patiently wait for his son to follow suit, as always.

Grogu cooed, encouraged by another child’s friendliness. The boy’s helmet turned to Grogu.

Something like a tiny, delighted laugh escaped the boy’s vocoder.

“I-is he your son, mister?” asked the boy.

Din stood still, said nothing. That was all he was to the Tribe now: a shadow, a ghost.

The child, as Mandalorian children were, was stubborn, but not impudently so.

Grogu cooed again; the boy giggled again.

They seem to be having a conversation which Din didn’t dare come in between. As it was, they truly needed to leave. He was about to call his son’s name when the boy spoke once more.

“What’s your name?” The child was addressing Grogu. The boy tapped his own little chest in a lighthearted gesture. His young voice was filled with awe and a pinched sort of joy. “I know we’re not supposed to tell our names to strangers, but you don’t look like strangers. My name’s Rag—“

“Ad’ika!!!”

A deep voice boomed robustly throughout the cave.

The boy gasped, came to senses as if recovering from a slap and abruptly turned to the one who called him “little one.”

It was Paz Vizsla. The towering blue-clad warrior stood a few paces behind the little boy.

Din noticed the moment where the child tensed. The boy took one last look at him and Grogu before offering Paz a feeble nod. The child dashed off into the farther recesses of the cave.

There was only silence as the two armored men gave each other a stare-down.

Finally, it was Paz who spoke.

“You loiter too long,” the hulking Mandalorian told Din matter-of-factly. Din was both surprised and suspicious that he detected no spite or vitriol in the other man’s tone. “Do what you need to do, but don’t speak to any of our brethren in this Covert while you remain apostate.”

Paz couldn’t even say Din’s name, or address him in any way but that of an estranged brother.

“Paz…” Din began.

“Leave.”

Din felt his heart pound. He needed to know somehow, even if it further risked Paz’s ire.

“That child—is he your foundling?”

Paz’s broad shoulders further bucked. The large Mandalorian bristled and stilled, but said nothing.

Din knew that Paz would not entertain his presence any longer. Din had decided to pick Grogu up instead, cradle his son back to the ship. Grogu fidgeted and his large eyes were filled with an odd, sad light.

He was nearing the lip of the cave when out of nowhere, Paz spoke.

“Ragnar.”

Din held his breath as he turned to face his old friend again.

“My foundling’s name is Ragnar. He has just sworn the Creed.”

Din found a window to let his once-dear friend and comrade know.

“He’s already shown great courage.”

It took a while before Paz nodded. “Yes.”

Grogu’s babbles were a soothing balm to add to this precious moment of one brother communing with the other. Small words that held solemn meaning.

“I saw you, Paz, before I pulled the ship’s trigger on the creature. You went in between Ragnar and harm’s way when that monster loomed too close to him…”

There was a glint in Paz’s visor as its gaze pinned Din with it.

“You had done the same.”

Din felt Grogu’s small claws and soft hands grip his gloved fingers, as if the child understood this terse conversation.

Against his will, Din’s voice broke as he reminded Paz of an adage treasured by all of the Covert: “The foundlings are the future.”

Another beat passed. Paz had punctuated their brief exchange with a long-winded huff. The hulking warrior’s visor landed on Grogu for a while; Paz’s broad frame seemed to relax. Then with bounding footsteps, he walked off into the inner cave, perhaps to rejoin his young clan member.

While Din started powering the starfighter up with Grogu tucked in his pod behind him, Din felt a blanket of comfort.

Paz knew. He knew that once a child was in your care, that no hells could ever come for the little one you love, because you would willingly stand in the way. You would take armor and blaster and every breath in your mortal body to stave all danger away, not while the child you love was still learning their path.

The foundlings were the future, even if the future remained a huge, winding unknown.

******

A/N: Theory’s around that Ragnar is either Paz’s foundling or son, and the kid would be a recurring character. Since this ep was Ragnar’s debut, I still have no idea what his personality is, but he could either be nice, or just as a meanie as his “dad” Pazzy. 🙈

Hope you enjoyed and thanks for reading! 💙

(You can read second part which can also be stand-alone on AO3 or Tumblr. Yes I'm now invested in this possible father-son conncection. TuT)

#the mandalorian fanfiction #the mandalorian season 3 #mando season 3 spoilers #star wars fanfiction #din djarin #grogu #paz vizsla #foundlings are the future #father and son things #new kid on the block #my fics #my writing #din is still creed-pilled 😅#possibly ragnar vizsla

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wantonlywindswept · 1 year

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Good Dad Paz pt 4

one | two | three

wherein good dad paz has some bad dad trauma to work through, and dumb dad din tries to play devil’s advocate against himself

hoping the backstory comes through in a way that makes sense? feel free to lmk if not.

adding ‘vod’ (sibling, comrade) to the untranslated mando’a list b/c i needed ‘brother’ for other things. may or may not go back to change previous versions

---

Of the many issues Paz knew Din had, he'd never expected self-worth to be one of them.

In retrospect, he probably should have.

"My original task was to bring Grogu to his people," Din said, after sitting back by the fire and recounting his journeys since the massacre on Nevarro. They'd never had a chance to talk about it on Glavis; Paz had been too bitter to try. "I knew that I couldn't keep him. It was...easier, to remain unattached."

Paz looked down at the child. Grogu was leaning against apparently-not-his-father's thigh, cooing contentedly, little hands still wrapped around the now empty cup. Din's hand rested atop his head in a seemingly unconscious gesture, thumb absently smoothing down one ridiculously long ear.

Paz was pretty sure Din became attached to that kid within less than an hour of meeting him.

"You are no longer unattached," he pointed out, "And the Jedi are no longer his people. We are."

Din inhaled a sharp breath, stilling.

Had he truly not considered that?

Paz studied him for a few more moments, taking in his protective posture, his hunched shoulders. The way he occasionally looked down at Grogu like he still wasn't sure why the kid was there; like he thought that at any moment, the child might change his mind and leave.

Ah.

This, Paz understood.

"You think you would make a bad father," he concluded.

Din tensed, but didn't reply. Paz tilted his head in understanding.

After all, he knew the feeling.

Paz leaned back against the wall, tapping his fingers idly against one of his cuisses. A slow beat, calming: one of the old remembrance songs turned into a simple rhythm.

"We," he said, "Are not kind men."

Din did not object. Paz didn't expect him to.

"You have hunted bounties with no thought given to if they deserve it. I have killed beings whose only crime was wandering too near the covert. We chose to follow a Creed that put our people over all else. This is the Way."

"This is the Way," Din murmured. The words sounded flat on his tongue, hesitant, as if wondering if he had the right to speak them.

"We chose to be Mandalorian. And every day, Ragnar continues to choose to be my child. Every day, I am humbled by his choice. No matter what I think of myself or who I may be, he is the one who decided that I am a father worthy of him."

"Grogu is too young to choose," Din said flatly.

Paz snorted.

"To swear the Creed, maybe. But if he could choose between staying with the Jedi or being with you, he can choose to become your son. It sounds like he already has."

"He doesn't have to be," Din argued. "We are all raised together; he could be part of the covert without tying himself to me. I don't need to be his father."

Din had a very punchable face. Paz forgot that, sometimes. But he'd already taken off his gloves, and he wasn't in the mood to break his knuckles against that empty beskar skull.

The two of them tended to solve most of their disagreements with their fists: they were, after all, Mandalorian, and shouting matches were harder with broken ribs. It had been that way since they were children, squabbling over who got the last slice of uj'alayi, or who did better in training. The fights got longer and more bitter as they got older, but there was always a sense of catharsis afterward, no matter who won.

It was, frankly, better than the alternative.

Paz studied his vod, his friend, and remembered a shellshocked young face beneath a mop of brown curls. He remembered a quiet boy learning the Way and never once questioning his place in the covert--even when perhaps he should have.

"I never thought," Paz said slowly, deliberately, "That you would be so cruel to deny a child a Clan, as you were."

He'd heard Din make less agonized sounds from being stabbed.

"No," Din choked out. His grip tightened on Grogu, enough to make the little one squeak in concern. "No, that's not what-- I would never--"

"You treat him as your own," Paz continued ruthlessly. "You have fought and bled for him, cared for him when no one else did. You broke the Creed to put his safety above all else. Are those not the actions of a parent?"

"But--"

Paz stood, frustration and real fury caught behind his teeth as he glared down at his stupid, ignorant almost-brother.

Din always knew best how to make him angry.

"He left safety with the Jedi and crossed the galaxy to return to you, and you would sit here and deny him a place at your side?" he demanded. "Would you have him also follow after you on his knees, hoping for a family that he will never be granted?"

"Paz--"

Paz wouldn't do this again. He wouldn't stand by and watch as another child was crushed by disappointment, strung along with promises of belonging to a Clan: pushing themselves to their limits to prove their worthiness, only to fail, because there was never the possibility of winning in the first place. Because love couldn't--shouldn't--be earned, and family wasn't something that should be used as a reward.

He wouldn't allow it. Not now, not when he actually had the ability to prevent it, now that he wasn't a fucking coward--

"Maybe," Paz snarled, "You really should have been a Vizsla."

Din's fist collided with his face.

He hadn't removed his gloves.

Copper blossomed across Paz's tongue as his head snapped to the side. He immediately retaliated, kicking Din savagely in the gut just below his beskar. Din stumbled back with a gasping wheeze, and while Paz didn't delude himself about his normal chances against him--Din won their bouts seventy percent of the time--he, unlike apparently Din himself, was aware that one of them was still injured.

Grogu scurried over to Din, who was doubled over in pain. The child fixed Paz with what was unmistakably a glare, one tiny green hand resting on the top of Din's boot.

The accusatory expression on such a young face chased the rage from Paz's throat. He sighed, shoulders slumping, fists loosening into open hands.

He really did prefer fights where they could just hit each other. Those always hurt less.

"Din," he said, "That kid is already your son. So what kind of father are you going to be?"

#good dad paz #mandalorian fanfiction #liz writes the mandalorian #paz vizsla #din djarin #grogu djarin #finally committed to paz backstory!#and the backstory is that vizslas are dicks #present and future generation excluded #'hehe look at this cute fic about paz being a good dad!'#'it's so sweet!'#'let's add in some ~trauma~'#anyway how bout that ep huh #looking forward to seeing paz safe and happy and alive in the next one #can't wait #🙃#lithdraug

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pazoo-underscore · 7 months

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Help I'm panicking my friend gave me someone's number who's also gay and I messaged her saying that he wanted to set me up with someone as an opener and idk how it's gonna go help

#probably gonna be a few posts like this in the future #unless this absolutely flops #i hope it doesnt #paz.

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artes-do-walter · 22 hours

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O que fazemos hoje é o que deixamos para nossos filhos

What we do today is what we leave for our children

#art #draw #illustration #arte #desenho #illustração #quadrinho #comics #hq #war #guerra #paz #peace #future #futuro #robot #robo #machine #maquina

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garnets-stargeode2000 · 1 year

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#Lapis Lazuli #gems #half human half gem #Steven Universe (Character)#Rebecca Sugar #Crystal gems #Steven Universe future #zach callison #Jennifer Paz

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wannaliveattheholidayinn · 11 months

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yeah, actually, i have become obsessed with the idea that dipper and pacifica drop out of college, move into a van, and begin hunting ghosts and cryptids (and the occasional alien) across the western us

#they annoy the absolute shit out of each other endlessly #bc paz is an indie folk music lesbian and dipper will forever be a fan of icelandic pop sensation babba #so basically they get into a lot of (silly) arguments over the aux cord/bluetooth #i would actually love to write this as a future fic #(with background paz&mabel)#gravity falls

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ryehouses · 2 years

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any fun paz pov’s? 👀 i love that paz and din have such a complicated past, would love to see more of that explored!!! (especially when paz feels “threatened” by boba when it comes to din sjskdjjdkfgk)

howdy howdy!

a look into paz and din's complicated past, you say? i have some up and coming warrior stuff for the wet hot mandalorian summer fic that i'm gonna sit on for now, but i do have some other stuff, including this bit!

set pre-ast during mando s1, but in the ast 'verse, ft. paz, his irritated wife and some of the aftermath of the covert revealing itself to rescue din and grogu post episode three.

i hope you enjoy!

(tw for some mild cult stuff, including paz's near-constant challenging of din)

in which paz vizsla tells a lie.

“You just missed Din,” Paz Vizsla said, toeing his boots off with a sigh. He had hoped to return to the covert to find his wife already in bed, but of course Annika was still sitting up at the overturned crate that had served as her desk for the last several months, working even as her light cell flickered.

She looked up when Paz shut the door behind him, pushing her helmet back against her forehead, a gesture that showed Paz just how tired she was. A heap of datapads was piled up on her makeshift desk in front of her.

As always, something tight in Paz’s chest unfurled at the sight of Annika. It was like a fist opening to show a gift instead of a blow. He relaxed at the sight of her.

She had stayed behind, when the covert had gone out to rescue Din from the mess he’d made with the Imps. It was standard practice to leave three or four warriors behind to watch over the kids, in case of ambush. Paz hadn’t seen her all night; he and the others had gotten Din out of his scrape, but then the night had been full of blasterfire and covering tracks, each warrior disappearing into the shadows of Nevarro City.

Paz was glad that Annika was safe.

She caught him looking at her and tilted her head a little, signaling a roll of her eyes. Paz, peeling off his gauntlets next, grinned.

Annika, much like Paz, preferred not to bother with her full set of armor when they were in their room together. She’d piled her armor into a careful stack beside their bed, where Paz toed his boots and started to heap his own armor.

In a few of their coverts over the years, they’d had enough room for proper armor racks. The covert underneath Nevarro City wasn’t quite that big; the tribe had piled into an old sewer system, long unused, and most of their “rooms” were old storage spaces or smaller tunnels branching off the main trunk that had been hastily partitioned into rooms with curtains, blankets and carefully-stacked crates.

Paz and Annika were senior enough in the tribe now to have been awarded one of the old storage spaces, so their room had four walls and a door. That afforded them enough privacy to shed most of their armor when they were only in each other’s company, but not enough space for an armor rack.

Paz didn’t mind. He liked to be the only one to see Annika like this. The only bit of armor she’d left on was her helmet, which was red and molded with a shallow crown of silver spikes.

The rest of Annika was uncovered for Paz to see. She’d shed her kute too, in deference to the heat – Nevarro City was warmed from beneath by lava vents, which made wearing full beskar’gam an interesting challenge – and was dressed simply, in soft black pants and a sleeveless shirt that showed off Annika’s strong arms and her collarbones. Annika was a Zabrak, an Irdonian, and her skin was orange, patterned thickly with scars and tattoos. Her forearms were strong, her fingers calloused. She’d been working the forge lately, learning an armorer’s craft, and the work had left her shoulders broad, her back flexing with smooth lines of muscle.

I love her, Paz thought. That thought came easy, these days.

“He’s not coming down?” Annika asked, pushing her datapad away. Neither of them bothered to ask the other how the night had gone. They had survived the raid. That was enough. “He barely stopped by. I thought he’d want to rest for at least a few days. I wanted to hear about Arvala-Seven.”

“He was here and gone,” Paz reported. He thought of how his night had gone and grimaced. “A little more explosively than usual, too.”

He’d only meant that the tribe had had to go get Din, to intervene when the Bounty Hunter’s Guild had turned on him. But Annika’s chin came up, fierce, and Paz winced. Their easy, familiar calm evaporated, and Paz remembered that before Din had roused the anger of the Bounty Hunter’s Guild, Paz and Annika hadn’t been speaking.

“Of course he left explosively,” Annika snapped. Her tone wasn’t accusing. She didn’t have to accuse Paz of anything – he knew what she was angry about. “Honestly, Paz, why you still feel like you have to pick on him – ”

“I’m not picking on anybody,” Paz said, struggling to keep a hold of his own irritation. Getting too angry to speak had never worked against Annika – she was more level-headed than Paz, and had been able to wind Paz up into an incoherent fury from the day he’d met her. Din was like that too. “I was just – ”

“What?” Annika said, tone sharp. “Testing Din’s temper?”

She’d been saying things like that a lot lately. Ever since the alor had pulled Annika aside and named her the future of the tribe, really. Paz knew that Annika didn’t mean to ask if Paz had been trying to make Din angry. She was asking if Paz had felt the need to test Din’s strength, his finish, like Din was a piece of metal and Paz was testing to see if Din had been well-forged.

That wasn’t not what Paz had been doing, but he knew better than to say so. Annika didn’t understand. She was ven’alor, the future of the tribe. Paz was just gota’shuk – he was just a hammer. That was his role in the tribe.

Paz worked his jaw for a moment. It bothered him, that Annika still didn’t get that. That she didn’t understand. Paz had been like this for years. This was his job. If the hammer blows came harder down on Din, it was only because Din left. He was gone from the tribe for weeks or months at a time. Paz couldn’t keep an eye on him like he could the others, couldn’t watch for signs of weakness, so he had to do it when Din came back, however infrequently that was.

Explaining that to Annika had never quite worked right, though.

Paz still tried. “You didn’t see him,” Paz said, trying not to sound like he was sulking. “All of that beskar – you know where he got it.”

Din had earned himself a full beskar’gam at last, which was a thing to celebrate, but Din hadn’t stolen it back or even taken it from a dead enemy; he’d been given the beskar. It had been his reward.

And he’d gotten it from the Empire.

“If he was paid with it, there’s nothing wrong,” said Annika, flatly. “Did he do the job he agreed to do?”

“I – probably,” Paz admitted. He wasn’t sure what the parameters of the job had been. Din hardly told Paz every bit of what was going on in his life any more. The thought was an unexpected knife. “It’s Din’ika.”

“Then the beskar was rightly earned,” Annika said. Her tone wasn’t dangerous any more, but it was still sharp. Paz winced. He supposed he deserved that. “And you had no right to challenge him for it.”

“Any of us can be challenged,” Paz said. He hadn’t been reading all of the old datapads like Annika’d been, but he knew that. Any Mandalorian could challenge another. For status or for armor or to settle a score. Din and Paz had been scraping for years. This fight hadn’t even been that bad. Din’ika’d pulled a knife – they had called him gal’ika as a child, actually, “little hawk,” because he’d been more than happy to flash a talon or two – and Paz had gotten a few whacks in, but the alor’d stopped them soon enough.

“If Denn or Ryna’d done it, they wouldn’t have called Din a coward,” said Annika.

Paz winced again. “...No,” he allowed. “Probably not.”

He knew that Din wasn’t a coward. He could hardly think any different. Din had been jumping out of trees and poking his nose into caves and picking fights with beings twice his size since he’d been four feet tall and armed with only training staves.

“But you always do,” Annika said. “You’re lucky he had to leave – he would’ve kicked your shebs in the sparring ring.” She talked like she’d been looking forward to watching Din punch Paz in the bucket.

Paz snorted. “He would’ve tried,” he said, though he and Annika had both been losing to Din i nthe sparring ring for the better part of twenty years now.

“You might have deserved it, this time,” Annika said, though she was softening a little, her shoulders slumping. “Honestly, cyare, you don’t have to…” she trailed off.

Paz sighed. “I know,” he admitted, quietly. Annika was probably the only person in the galaxy he could admit this to. The alor had never asked Paz to be her gota’shuk, but Paz had known his position in the covert from the time he’d been a child.

Paz was strong. Paz had been tempered; his father Pallas had seen to that. Testing others was necessary. If one among them was weak, they all were weak. The strength of the tribe depended on all of them. It depended on the wisdom of the alor and the advice of elders, on the curiosity of the foundlings, the skill of the warriors. On the honor of their hunter, who fed them, and Annika, who would one day lead them.

But I don’t test Annika, Paz thought. Not like I test Din.

His mouth thinned. He kept shedding his armor piece by piece, staking it beside his wife’s. All of his armor was painted a greyish blue, aside from a few yellow pieces, and almost all of Annika’s was red. Din’s armor had been red too, once. Now it was all silver, freshly forged. Paz wondered what colors Din would settle on. Maybe something green – that kid he’d found had been green.

I’m just doing my job, he wanted to say. Annika’d gotten – odder, these last few weeks. Ever since she’d been named ven’alor. She’d gotten – quieter. More withdrawn. Paz had just assumed that it was all of Annika’s new responsibilities keeping her busy, but maybe it was something else.

But I am harder on Din. Paz knew that he was. He couldn't seem to stop. But - he could try to make it right. For Annika.

Paz didn't want to add more stress to her shoulders, and - well.

And he missed Din too, he thought. Maybe. Paz missed the way things had been when the three of them hadn't had any of this kark to worry about.

“I can – next time I see Din,” Paz said, gruffly. “I’ll apologize. Okay?”

Annika studied him for a moment, hard. She was still beautiful, when she was angry with Paz. Maybe especially when she was angry with Paz. She had a passion that lit her up. The closed fist in Paz’s heart opened again. It always opened for Annika.

Paz got the last of his armor off, then shrugged out of his kute too. He stretched, sore from the fighting, and undid the seals on his helmet so he could scratch his jaw. His beard bristled against his fingertips.

“I’ll apologize,” Paz repeated.

Annika softened all the way. “Good,” she said. She pushed away from her desk and crossed the room. She slung an arm over Paz’s hips. He leaned gratefully into her warmth.

“I’m just,” Annika started, sounding tired.

Kark, thought Paz, half-amused. We have gotten old. Old and tired, like we swore we’d never get.

“I’m just worried,” Annika said, pulling her thoughts into some kind of order. “It’s – I don’t know. I want Din here. I want him safe, with the tribe. With us. Now that the Empire’s after him – ”

“I wouldn’t worry much about the Empire,” Paz said. He turned so that he could brush the cheek of his helmet against Annika’s. She let him, leaning back. “Din leveled them, and we took care of the Guild. We’ll probably have to move in a few days, but here – here’s safe enough. Din will come back. He always does.”

Annika hummed, the sound lighter and more musical than Paz would've thought a warrior of Annika’s size would be able to make, before he’d known her. Despite the battle – despite the exhaustion of the day – Paz’s blood began to warm.

“He always does,” Annika admitted. “Think he’ll bring that kid of his with him?”

Paz shrugged. “He might,” he said. “If Din decides he’s ready for one.”

“The fight really went okay?” Annika asked. She was putting a little more pressure on Paz’s side, angling him towards their bed. Paz went happily. “Din’s okay? Everyone else?”

“We’re all okay,” Paz assured her. The bed creaked under their weight as they went down, cheek pressed to cheek. The seals on Paz’s helmet were still loose, the motion of their bodies jostling it against his nose, his cheekbone, but he didn’t mind. He wasn’t afraid of losing it. Not here. “Even Din.”

“And there’s no more trouble?” Annika asked, already as protective over her tribe as a proper alor.

Paz chuckled. He and Annika were both still wearing too many clothes. Paz set his fingers against the hem of Annika’s sleeveless shirt, thrilling at the flex of muscle there. “There’s no more trouble,” Paz confirmed. “Not from the Empire and not from the Bounty Hunter’s Guild. We’re safe here.”

The last of Annika’s unhappy tension bled away. She relaxed into Paz’s touches, let him shrug her out of her shirt. She began to reach back.

“Good,” she murmured. “That’s good.”

“We’ll all be together again,” Paz promised her. “Din will be fine.”

“Then come here,” Annika instructed, and pressed her forehead against Paz’s in a kiss.

#ast 'verse pov tag #ast asks #ast tag #'why did you make annika a zabrak' zabraks are cool as fuck #(ast!paz is also pantoran)#translations: ven'alor - future leater #gal'ika - little hawk #gota'shuk - 'hammer'#derived from 'gotal'ur' (to make or to create)#and 'shukur' (to break)#i liked the idea of the word for hammer being a combination of breaking and building #seemed appropos

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curiositis · 2 years

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#michael j fox #black to the future #regreso al futuro #lady gaga #paz padilla

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eulembrodelemuria · 2 years

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Os Olhos do Futuro estão a olhar para nós e estão a rezar para que vejamos além do nosso próprio tempo. Terry Tempest Williams ________________________ Acesse o link em nossa bio para conhecer todos os nossos conteúdos. Estamos no Telegram. Estamos construindo uma comunidade mais limpa e transparente, livre de desinformação. Acesse nossa bio e clique em Vk.com, nossa nova rede social. #futuro #future #liberdade #pazinterior #paz #curaquantica #cure#freespirit #bruxas #awakening #despertar #despertarespiritual #thirdeye #peace #ascensão #ascension #liberdade #libera #amorincondicional #alternative #alternativegirl #consciencia #soulpower #soul #frequency #frequencia #meditação #medite #spirituality #espiritualidade https://www.instagram.com/p/Cb3pzZ9rL7p/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

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hotvintagepoll · 1 month

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Propaganda

María Félix (Doña Barbara, La Mujer sin Alma, Rio Escondido, La Cucaracha)—Maria Felix is still possibly the most well-known Mexican film actress. She turned down multiple-roles in Hollywood and a contract with Metro-Goldwyn-Meyer in order to take roles in Mexico, France, and Argentine throughout the 1940s, 50s, 60s. She was so famous and so respected as a dramatic actress that she inspired painters, novelists and poets in their own art--she was painted by Diego Rivera, Jose Orozco, Bridget Tichenor. The novelist Carlos Fuentes used her as inspiration for his protagonist in Zona Sagrada. She inspired an entire collection by Hermes. In the late 1960s Cartier made her a custom collection of reptile themed jewels. She considered herself to be powerful challenger of morality and femininity in Mexico & worldwide--she routinely played powerful women in roles with challenging moral choices and free sexuality. But even still, years after he death, she is celebrated with Google Doodles, and appearances in the movie Coco, and holidays for the anniversary of her death.

Julie Andrews (The Sound of Music, Mary Poppins)—Oh where to start .... I'm not sure I even know how. She's just perfection. And it's not fair I can't bring post 70s work into this, because she just gets better and better, and her drag performance in to die for. But in the era I CAN talk about, she shows she has THE RANGE. Beautiful, feisty, funny, holding her own against Christopher Plummer, Paul Newman, Rock Hudson. Oh she's luminous.

This is round 4 of the tournament. All other polls in this bracket can be found here. Please reblog with further support of your beloved hot sexy vintage woman.

[additional propaganda submitted under the cut.]

María Félix:

She's Thee Hot Vintage Movie Woman of México. She's absolutely gorgeous and always looks like she's about to step on you. you WILL be thankful if she does.

"María Félix is a woman -- such a woman -- with the audacity to defy the ideas machos have constructed of what a woman should be. She's free like the wind, she disperses the clouds, or illuminates them with the lightning flash of her gaze." - Octavio Paz

María Félix is one of the most iconic actresses of the Golden Era of Mexican Cinema. La Doña, as she was lovingly nicknamed, only had one son, and when her first marriage ended in divorce her ex-husband stole her only child, so she vowed that one day she’d be more influential than her ex and she’d get her son back. AND SHE DID! María Félix rejected a Hollywood acting role to start her acting career in Mexico on her own terms with El Peñón de las Ánimas (The Rock of Souls) starring alongside actor, and future third husband, Jorge Negrete. She quickly rose to incredible heights both in Mexico and abroad, later on rejecting a Hollywood starring role (Duel in the Sun) as she was already committed to the movie Enamorada at the planned filming time. Of this snubbing she said, quote: “I will never regret saying no to Hollywood, because my career in Europe was focused in [high] quality cinema. [My] india* roles are made in my country, and [my] queen roles are abroad.” (Translator notes: here the “india” role means interpreting a lower-class Mexican woman, usually thought of indigenous/native/mixed descent —which she had interpreted and reinvented throughout her acting career in Mexico— and what abroad was typically considered the Mexican woman stereotype, with the braids, long simple skirts, and sandals. This also references the expectation of her possibly helping Hollywood in perpetuating this stereotype for American audiences that lack the cultural and historical contexts of this type of role which would undermine her own efforts against this type of Mexican stereotypes while working in Europe) She was considered one of the most beautiful women in the world of her time by international magazines like Life, París Match, and Esquire, and was a muse to a vast number of songwriters (including her second husband Agustin Lara,), artists, designers, and writers. Muralist Diego Rivera described her as “a monstrously perfect being. She’s an exemplary being that drives all other human beings to put as much effort as possible to be like her”. Playwriter Jean Cocteau, who worked with her in the Spanish film La Corona Negra (The Black Crown) said the following about her, “María, that woman is so beautiful it hurts”. Haute Couture houses like Dior, Givenchy, Yves Saint Laurent, Balenciaga, Hérmes, among others, designed and dressed her throughout her life. She died on her birthday, April 8, 2002, at 88 years old, in Mexico City. She was celebrated by a parade from her home to the Fine Arts Palace in the the city’s Historic Downtown, where a multitude of people paid tribute to her. Her filmography includes 47 movies from 1942 until 1970, and only two television acting roles in 1970. She has 2 music albums, one recorded with her second husband, Agustín Lara, in 1964 titled La Voz de María y la inspiración de Agustín «The voice of María and the inspiration of Augustín», and her solo album Enamorada «In Love» in 1998. Her bespoke Cartier jewelry is exhibited alongside Elizabeth Taylor’s, Grace Kelly’s and Gloria Swanson’s. In 2018, Film Director Martin Scorsese presented a restored and remastered version of her film Enamorada in the Cannes Classics section of the Cannes Festival and Google dedicated a doodle for her 104th birthday. On august 2023 Barbie added her doll to the Tribute Collection.

Julie Andrews propaganda:

"She has such a simple but amazing beauty to her. Not to mention her amazing and melodic singing voice!"

"Roles like nannies and governesses can make us forget how attractive she was! A perfect combination of elegant and adorable, with the most incredible vocal range to boot!"

"Besides having one of the most amazing singing voices ever to grace the silver screen, Julie always had an understated beauty to her that wasn't always shown off on screen. But it's there nonetheless because her characters managed to pull some of the hottest men ever to grace the screen."

"The juxtaposition between carefree Maria and stern but fun Mary Poppins shows the power of the acting of this HOT VINTAGE MOVIE WOMAN"

"Charming, genteel, incredibly charismatic, beautiful, and has an angelic singing voice to boot. Her screen roles as Maria in The Sound of Music and Mary Poppins are absolutely iconic for a reason and she originated several well-known Broadway roles before those."

"the most beautiful woman 12 year old me had ever seen possibly"

"OMG OMG OMG she’s definitely been submitted before how could she NOT but!!!! I loveeee her so muchhhh rahhhh prebby!!!! cool!!!! mary poppins the beloved <33333 some people dislike it but I love jolly holiday so much because it IS a jolly holiday with Mary!!! no wonder that it’s Mary that we love!!!!!"

"I know many people who were taught in singing lessons "when in doubt, pronounce words how julie andrews would pronounce them." THATS CALLED INFLUENCE. THATS CALLED MOTHERING THOUSANDS."

#julie andrews #maría félix #hotvintagepoll #fuck that old woman #ladies 4

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