#and of course the follower milestone I’m still so stunned and grateful | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

ohheyitsokay · 3 years

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Omg I'm SO sorry!!! I'm the soulmates pain AU anon, I was completely aware you were the one with the milestone!! I saw the post through Molly's rb and I was almost completely sure I had opened your blog to send you the ask but alas, the Tumblr app can never give you any certainties. That long-ass message was completely dedicated to you, I still can't quite grasp how I managed to send it to scribbledghost 🙄🙄🙄 Sorry!!! Congrats again, I love you!!!!

for reference a Din Djarin x reader soulmate request where your soulmate feels your injuries and pain

hello, dear heart!

I wanted to say, before anything else, thank you. I've reread your words multiple times since you sent this, confirming they were to me, and they really mean the world to me. thank you so, so much! anyway, your idea is fantastic, I had a lot of fun with this one! I hope you like seeing what I did with your already wonderful thoughts 💕

ps it's well documented that I'm a big fan of sprawling thoughts, so please never apologize for sharing them!

warnings: mentions canon-typical injuries, a bunch of fluff. at least enough for a couple of throw pillows

soulmate requests / follower celebration

There's a short burn on his forearm when he wakes.

Din stares at it, wondering at the dull ache, trying to place the injury from yesterday's adventure when it hits him. Hot and golden warmth, flooding through his chest, thawing his flesh against the cold filtered air.

It's one of yours.

A burn, on his forearm.

And selfishly, indulgently, he pauses for a moment, mind slipping away from duty and expectations to dwell in the daydream of his soulmate.

First, his mind creates an image of a blurry mandalorian caretaker, gently moving around a kitchen in the covert. You stir a pot, tapping the spoon on the side before setting it down. Hearing distant calls, you turn too quickly and oh - a sliver of burn along your arm.

Din wants to help, wants to pull you away from the domestic .... danger, and he rushes forward. Your helmet turns to him and he almost sees it - before his mind can no longer produce the answers he aches for late at night.

The second image is of you, in armor as gleaming as his own, in a thick, unrecognizable forest. The hairs on his neck are at full attention, already subconsciously wanting to shout - but you don't need his help. You're breathtaking in all versions of his daydream - but watching you fight with practiced ease punches the air from his lungs. For a moment he feels self-conscious of his awkward maneuvers and slapdash fighting but then his mind pulls him back. You're protecting someone, or else you wouldn't have messed up - you never do, injuries from you are too rare - but you shove them behind you, shooting an enemy over your shoulder before your helmet snaps back. There are so many - you're surrounded - and a hot, sharp blaster bolt grazes your forearm before your fury is truly unleashed.

He runs his fingers over the burn, almost giddy at the possibilities.

Mandalorians are few and far between, but he's grateful he has a soulmate, and even more thankful you've kept yourself out of harm's way almost entirely, since you'd been connected.

As he dons his layers, the shine of his armor reflects bruises and scrapes littered across the expanse of his skin. His own, from his journey, and one beautiful little burn from his soulmate.

And then they're covered, and the armor is tied securely in place, and he leaves his daydreams in the room as the ship door slides unceremoniously shut.

You hiss at the burn, clutching your arm.

Great. Just what you needed - another injury to add to your impressive collection.

At least my soulmate gets a gift from me this time. You roll your eyes.

The vendor next to your stall is a sweet lady, already apologizing for her steaming pots and pans and offering you compensation.

The credits would be nice, but you could hardly justify taking anything, especially since it was your soulmate's fault your body was riddled with aches and pains in the first place.

Waving your hand, you accept her counter offer - a bowl of her perfect broth and noodles - before retreating. You sell cloth, from beautiful dyed lengths tucked away to sturdy, unstainable blacks, and it was days like today that you thanked your stars for that choice.

There's a thick pile in the middle that you perch on, sinking into the folds as your body cries at you, and you sigh over your soup in relief. The burden of waking to webbing bruises and sprawling scrapes and the more-than-occasional broken bone is eased by your stall - sitting and haggling until the sun goes down. That is, unless there's drama in the market, as it seems there is today.

In the distance you hear shouts, more than those of vendors selling meat on sticks to passing warriors and merchants - the taunts of drunkards.

Someone is coming, and you almost laugh when you see his form in the distance, because he's trying and failing to be inconspicuous. It's impossible, with his gleaming armor, but still he ducks into shadowy spots, forgetting - or maybe ignoring - their inhabitants.

"A Mandalorian has graced our market," your neighbor remarks dryly. They were respected, but it was well known that chaos followed them. You share a look, both wishing you were wealthy enough to conpletely pack up shop. If anything, a logical person would put away most of the stock and hunker down for a few hours. Weighing the odds was difficult: if you were lucky, the chaos wouldn't bother your business, and shoppers might be drawn out, hoping for entertainment and spending as they waited. If you weren't, a wayward burst of plasma or blaster fire would destroy your whole month's stock.

You looked at him again, the Mandalorian kneeling down the street. His form was... almost handsome, formidable but careful. He was light on his feet, seemingly with gentleness on his mind, and it drew you in like a moth to flame. You decided to stay, and hope for the best, your curiosity pulsing like your bruises.

And you were lucky, that day, because he ducked away not a moment later, taking the exciment with him.

Until, he came back the next day, this time on the prowl, stalking up and down the edge of Dicer's Row, one hand on his blaster and the other atop a bulky, wriggling bag. This time, you ventured to stand, folding and refolding your displays as you watched him through your lashes.

And then he made his move, and you sighed, feigning a yawn to cover your disappointment from your neighbor's knowing smile. She shouldn't be wiggling her eyebrows over the box wall between you - honestly his type were more annoying than anything. A crash from the alley confirmed it: there was no way a guy like that cared about his soulmate. The gentleness from before was surely a trick of the light.

Your whole side lit up with pain, the impact of something hard against your whole side and you groaned, settling into your mound again. Any curiosity or attraction was snuffed under your annoyance and pain, and your mood soured like fruit left unpicked on the tree.

Selfish, you thought, glaring as a chicken ran squawking from the commotion. What a jerk.

The next day, you tried to maintain the sentiment, huffing as he wandered the stalls.

Why does he keep coming back?

You'd have thought his time here was over when he'd dragged that lowlife out of town yesterday. But here he was, buying a crock of soup at the stall next to you, and ignoring her comments about how he couldn't eat it with his helmet on.

She had warmed to him, since he'd put money in her pocket, chattering in a way that kept him stuck for long moments.

It struck you as strange - he almost seemed too awkward to leave, like her returned generosity actually meant something to him. A man like him... surely could've just walked away.

But he stayed for awhile, nodding and looking at the spoons she carved in her free time, and you almost thought he was looking at you, too. Then he ducked his head and planted himself in front of you, and certainly he was.

For all the years you'd spent weaving words to sell your fabrics and goods, you'd never been so speechless. The Mandalorian was large, sharp, shining edges and bulky canvas packs tied to his shoulders - he seemed out of place, filling your whole stall, shuffling as he loomed over you.

He asked for soft brown things - children's clothes.

"Of course, I - I mean, yes, just over here -" you tripped over your words, caught completely off guard by the shape of him, the feel of him just an arms width away, and his request. You stumbled from your seat, nearly toppling in your hurry and his gloved hand wrapped around your arm, catching you.

"You're injured," he stated not really asking. It was... overwhelmingly intimate, him knowing, and acknowledging it, like he cared.

"Yeah, my..." you swallowed, trying not to get lost in the dark glass inches from your face. "My self-centered soulmate keeps getting himself nearly killed."

Even with your heart thumping in your chest, you couldn't keep the bite from your words, bitterness having collected over years of nursing injuries that were consequences of someone else's actions. He didn't let go of you for a moment, his helmet pulling back and tilting, like he was startled.

Then he was cautious, unbearably so, releasing his grip like a child freeing a captured creature when it was time. The topic was dropped, and he made his purchase quickly, but before he left, he paused. The Mandalorian's gloved hand ghosted over your cheek, slowly moving a hair back into it's place, and if you hadn't known better, it was almost an apology.

And then, thick cape swirling in the dust, tiny clothes in tow, he swept away, leaving you along with your whole body alight with a foreign longing.

Din felt as though he'd been stabbed.

Hot, hot feelings poured through his chest, spreading fast as fire as he desperately tried to sort through them.

You - you were incredible, fragile and bruised, with the most stunning, determined eyes he had ever seen. Not a Mandalorian, and you had a ... a soulmate, a fucker who left your skin littered with marks, burdening you with ...

He felt panicked, shocked, and guilty, just as he had when you'd told him. It had never occred to him that his soulmate might be there... out there, constantly burdened by his recklessness. His body screamed for attention, something he so often ignored, but this time, he was almost deafened by it.

His feet, legs, arms, chest, heart - all of them wanted him to return to you, in your little fabric stall. To... what? Truly, he hadn't the slightest idea, so his mind won out, shaking a little to try to reign in the muscles that he'd taught to obey him.

He couldn't go to you.

But, he couldn't stay away.

He was back in the market, and this time, he wasn't being subtle about staring at you.

Tall and ... slow, he waded through the crowds, making his was towards you like he was following a careful path.

"Can I help you?" You stood, moving almost involuntarily towards him. "Was there something wrong with my -" he was already shaking his head, hands reaching to make you shush.

Waiting, an irrational part of your mind wished he would touch you again, would place his big hands on your skin and sooth the aches that haunted your life. It was unfair, but you didn't stop it, couldn't if you tried.

Carefully, he slid a single finger to your arm, pushing up your sleeve to reveal the little burn you'd gotten.

He was being gentle. It made you want to stomp your feet, jealously welling up in your heart like bile, bitter and hot. How could it be, that someone so powerful had learned so quickly, wanted to, and he wasn't - he wasn't even your -

Then he moved again, pushing up his own sleeve and your thoughts tumbled over each other. It was intimate, even more than before, desperately trusting, as his skin near glowed in the morning light. And there was a burn on his skin, hairs singled like they'd met the edge of a pot of boiling broth.

You wanted to punch him. This man has spent years tossing his body around like he had one one spare, making your own as brittle as bread crust and - you wanted to kiss him. This man had learned after a single day, the impact of his actions, and had been nothing but kind.

The forehead of his helmet pressed into yours, and the two sides of your mind compromised.

Later, words would come - they had to.

But now, your eyes closed, and you sighed. He had the rest of your life to make it up to you - and he would, you were sure.

taglist:

@fangirl-316 @scribbledghost @writeforfandoms @beautyagegoodnesssize @princess76179 @mrsbentallmadge @horton-hears-a-honk @saradika @zinzinina

#din djarin x reader #soulmate requests #anonymous and elle #elle only posts soulmate rqs at weird hours thats the rule

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victuurikatsu · 6 years

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we’ll never be royals

[For @wewritevictuuri weekly prompt “I’m going for a swim. Do you wanna join me?” And a celebration ficlet for reaching a following milestone, thank you for your continued support! 💖]

“Come on, Yuuri! What’s the worst thing that could happen to us?” Phichit asked.

The man promptly slammed down a regal looking poster atop the work space where Yuuri was working on his latest piece. Desperately, he tried to focus his attention on the piece rather than poster itself --- knowing full well it was filled with details announcing the masquerade ball being held in the kingdom.

Of course he’d already known about the ball, as he’d already been commissioned to make some of the finest gowns and petticoats for it. But this last piece he was working on, he wanted to make sure it was especially cared for, as the snowy white mask with glinted crystals and golden lining was being procured by Prince Viktor Nikiforov himself.

Yuuri could feel Phichit’s gaze burning a hole into his shirt before he responded, “Well for one, we could be hanged. And more importantly we’re not royalty. How would we even get in?”

“Dumb luck and charm.” Phichit smirked. “Besides, you can create the perfect disguises for us, can’t you?”

Being one of the most renowned tailors in the kingdom had its perks. Yuuri was never out of work and usually kept busy well into the dead of winter. His hands had created arguably the most lavish pieces seen on royalty within their kingdom and even in other lands abound. But to pull something as extravagant as whatever Phichit was conjuring up in his mind, he didn’t know if he was capable of it. In an attempt to dissolve any of the concerns that were clearly painted on Yuuri’s face, Phichit went in for the kill.

“I’ve already got us a surefire way to get in. Remember that royal guard? The one who’s usually glued to the Prince’s side?”

Yuuri could only briefly recall him, hair coiffed in strands of blonde in tight curls, eyes that were doe-like and as green as an emerald. The only reason why he didn’t know anything else was due to his attention always landing straight onto the Prince thereafter. His silver hair cascading down like a waterfall, his eyes an azure blue that always looked warm, shoulders broader than anything he’d ever seen, skin as luminous as the moon.

“Uh, Giacometti? Right?” Yuuri managed to stammer out before getting too lost in his daydream.

“The very same. He owes me a favor, so I’m cashing in on it. We’ll have access through the servants quarters. He’ll personally escort us in, no harm done. Besides, it’s not like you to pass on an opportunity to see Viktor.”

Yuuri looked over to the poster and back at the mask in his hands. A royal servant would be by to fetch it within a day or two. He was confident that by the time he finished the piece it would be more than suitable for him. He wondered if it would be a sin to want to see the mask on him with his own two eyes rather than hearing through word of mouth as he had always done for any piece he had made for Viktor in the past.

“Two conditions.” Yuuri finally said as he came to his own resolve.

“Anything!”

“If we get caught, I’m pleading hysteria. By midnight, we’re gone.”

“You sound like a folklore.” Phichit said rolling his eyes.

“Midnight Phichit, no later.” Yuuri warned.

“Fiiiiiine.” Phichit conceded, before throwing a mound of fabrics over Yuuri’s way. “Now get to work, we have a ball to get ready for!”

The days stretched on much faster than Yuuri had anticipated and before he knew it, he was critiquing his disguise in the mirror while Phichit did his best to assure him nothing would go wrong. Against the backdrop of his tanned skin, Phichit was carefully hidden under a mask in brilliant hues of red and gold to signify a dragon. The irony wasn’t lost on Yuuri as Phichit kept making jokes about not fighting back should Guardsmen Giacometti consider slaying him sometime in the evening.

Yuuri opted to be hidden like a raven in the night so his mask followed the same theme. The contrast against his honey brown eyes was jarring but subtle enough for him to feel that he would seamlessly blend into the background. After dusk had settled and stars were beginning to form, Yuuri and Phichit snuck off to the meeting point, grateful for the bustle of out of town royals marveling at the estate that the Nikiforov’s kept so prim and pristine. As Phichit had promised, the doe-eyed guard was indeed waiting to escort them into the heart of the ball.

“Why does he owe you again?” Yuuri murmured as they were led deeper into the confines of the castle.

“That’s a tale I’ll share later.” Phichit said with a smirk.

Making it to the grand ballroom, Yuuri was hit with a world of color in gold and silver. If it wasn’t the dresses that were in bright hues, it was the brilliant fans that each lady of the court seemed to be brandishing that caught high attention. Beautiful and graceful, every participant at the ball did not skimp on fulfilling the duty of showing up in proper attire, some of the pieces Yuuri had worked on weeks ago were even seen waltzing around in the space.

Heart pacing, he made a run for the nearest station where cups of mead and spirits were being passed along. It did not take long for Yuuri to succumb to his own curse as he and spirits never mixed well. Now they were even more in danger of having their cover blown.

As music brandished through the space, Yuuri through blurred vision watched colors flowing across the room as people were pairing up one by one to dance. That’s when he sees the familiar crystalized glint of a mask he would recall anywhere after spending weeks perfecting it.

It was the Prince.

Stumbling over to him, Yuuri could only manage a giggle before standing upright, thankful that the mask he had on himself was a stark black and would hopefully hide the hues of red that were staining his cheeks. Wordlessly, he holds out a hand to invite Viktor to dance, half expecting to be pushed away. But the spirits gave him no ounce of fear and all he wanted to do was follow through with ambition. He wanted desperately to dance with him. That’s why he’s surprised when he feels warmth enveloping around his finger tips.

“I know every royal there is to know, but I’ve never seen you around before.” Viktor said in amusement.

Yuuri can only think of replying in the form of a gesture. He wanted to successful sweep Prince Viktor off his feet and he does just that. He doesn’t know how many dances pass between them, but they are both flushed with joy and giddiness that causes the entirety of the room to take heed of what was unfolding. Who was the stranger making the Prince come alive for the first time in years?

The following day Yuuri finds himself leaning against a tree in the middle of his personal sanctuary. Head pounding, he watches the lake across from him glisten, ebb, and flow as he tries to center himself. Phichit had successfully dragged him away as promised at the stroke of midnight. The events that happened prior were still a blur to him. He only knew that when he awoke that morning, the town was alit with talks of a raven haired stranger whisking the Prince away in a night of dancing and laughter.

As far as Yuuri knew, no one was able to uncover his identity, and he wanted to will it to stay that way. Lost in the curse of his drinking, he strayed from being safe and nearly blew it for both himself and Phichit, all for the chance to live out a dream beyond anything he felt he would ever be worthy of. Though it was nice being able to recall the way Victor’s laughter sounded against the base of his throat.

“Hi! May I join you?”

Yuuri nearly leapt off of the ground, unaware that he wasn’t alone in his oasis and was stunned to see who was standing before him. Grasping onto the tendrils of grass beneath him to feel for sure that this wasn’t another dream, Yuuri gulped before getting up immediately to gather his belongings.

“S-sorry, I was just g-going. Please, enjoy the space your majesty.” Yuuri said with a deep bow, hanging his head low before swiftly turning his back to the man.

“I know it was you.” Viktor called out to him.

Yuuri froze, willing his shoulders to relax before uttering a simply reply, “I don’t know what you mean.”

“At the ball. You were the raven. And I’m certain you must have made my owl mask. The details never lie. I’ve always admired every piece we’ve gotten from you.” Viktor said fondly.

“M-my work?” Yuuri managed to get out.

“Mhm, and if I’m being honest, I haven’t had fun like that at a ball in ages.”

Yuuri found himself spinning around to plead for forgiveness, but all he could hear was giggling and the feeling of a cloth that still felt warm landing on top of his head. Drawing his hands up, he pulled on the cloth and saw that it was an undershirt. Eyes trailing to the ground, he saw a pattern of scattered clothing ranging from trousers, boots, even the lavish magenta hued petticoat.

That was when he saw him, shimmering in the middle of the lake like an ethereal being come to life. The way the sun cascaded against his silver hair making him even more luminous than ever, how his eyes seemed even brighter than the skies above. Yuuri searched for any ounce of distrust or hard feelings, but only found that Viktor was still warm and inviting. Soon enough, his lithe hand was outstretched to him, in a way of beckoning, possibly a calling.

“I was wondering if we might be able to continue in the spirit of fun. I’m going for a swim. Do you wanna join me?”

Yuuri looked on dazed, seeing a brilliant smile gracing Viktor’s lips.

Would it be a sin for him to say yes?

#victor nikiforov #katsuki yuuri #yuri!!! on ice #yoi #wewritevictuuri #victor x yuuri #yoi ficlet #yoi drabble #yoi drabbles #yoi fan fic #I might expand this into a drabble exercise #thank you once again for your support #royalty au #my writing

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letsgobethegoodguys · 5 years

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Hello, friends! I'm getting close to 100 followers on this account. I know that's not a huge milestone compared to some, but I'm blown away by how much this account has grown in the little time I've been posting original content. I've shared quite a bit of fanfic and the support I've received has been OVERWHELMING. I haven't done very well thanking people for the wonderful comments I've received so I wanted to do this shout out post. I hope you guys don't mind me tagging you. I'm just really grateful and I want to make sure you all know it. (If you would like me to take you off this post, just let me know).

First and foremost- my sweet Kyler! @kylermalloy Not only has she reblogged every piece of fanfic I've written, she's also read the first drafts of a few pieces and given me feedback. She's a darling friend, an amazing writer, and I love her. It's so wonderful to have someone to yell with and cry with over our beloved characters. Thank you, Kyler.

Next - @spnxbookworm The amount of support from this bean is amazing. I found her through a stunning fic she wrote with @chestercbennington (who has also been so lovely to me). Sanj's feedback always makes me want to cry and she makes me want to keep writing. Thank you, Sanj. I can hardly express how grateful I am to you.

@wendibird leaves the sweetest commentary on a lot of my writings. Thank you so much. <3

@petrichoravellichor has also yelled about my fics more than once. Thank you!!!

@dadstiel-amiright made?? fanart?? based on my drabble?? I'll never be over it tbh. Thank you for that Mariah. It meant a lot. And you are so talented.

@feathersinthesky had me grinning from ear-to-ear by yelling about my latest piece. Oh my word. Thank you!!!

Also, shout outs to: @trashblackrainbow, @philosophicalotter, @marril96, @clairecawdor, and @mokiline for kind comments. Thank you so much!!

And I always, always check the tags when people reblog my posts. And just?? Y'all are amazing?? People who leave comments in their tags give me life. I'm sure every writer checks the tags for these sweet little nuggets. <3

@sealionsam Lauren - artist extraordinaire - has consistently reblogged my stuff with the CUTEST tags. Thank you so much, friend!

@flightoftheseraph one of my favorite Jack-positive blogs! He has left lovely tags on my writing multiple times. Thank you, Sawyer!

@michaeldean my darling friend, taylor. I love you - thank you for the support. <3

@royalrowena has supported my fics that involved (guess who) Rowena! ;) Thank you, Gretchen!

@ohsamulet a very pure blog that I have followed for a long time. Thank you so much for the support!! (I adore your url, btw)

@usbib974 also with the lovely tags! Thank you!

And, of course, @iamadreameroftheday who can't read a lot of things I write because spoilers. But she still supports me as much as she can and reads everything I send her. Ily, Abigail. Always and forever.

#gosh i hope this isn't irritating #i just love y'all sm #thank you for being here #steph talks #it's the middle of the night but this took awhile so i'm just gonna post it now #i hope i didn't miss anyone

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filmista · 8 years

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Woodstock: 3 Days of Peace & Music The Director’s Cut! (1970)

If a fire broke out in the book and film shelve in my apartment, and I only got the chance to save a few books and a few films from a fiery death, What would I save? Michael Wadleigh's documentary capturing Woodstock would now be one of the first things I'd think I'd reach for.

Why? Because it is truly a time machine: a time capsule, a glimpse into one of the most beautiful and peaceful moments in human history. The kind of moment that makes you wish you could time travel only to witness it and this film allows that a little bit. The film succeeds brilliantly in evoking the atmosphere of the festival.

Not only because it is beautifully filmed, which of course since it was the 70's means intense psychedelic colors and light, a delight mostly for two senses your eyes and your ears. The film transports you into the mindset and the hearts, the soul of these people.

The hippies: what they stood for, what they rebelled against, what they so fervently believed in: peace, music, love, really just letting everybody live freely. These people truly believed in freedom and you see in their faces as they're interviewed that they're convinced of their beliefs, these people believed without a doubt the world was going to become a better, prettier, happier place...

On a small farm in Bethel, in upstate New York Woodstock was presented: 3 Days of Peace & Music better known as simply Woodstock nowadays, a 1969 music festival where the largest hippie congregation in history ever assembled to celebrate the festival. Life, love, and music. Michael Wadleigh wrote this documentary in 1970, showing the construction and experiences of those three days, winning an Oscar as best documentary at the time.

The authors of this great festival are the people who attended and lived in Woodstock in addition to the bands that attended. In this documentary, we're shown how many of those present celebrated life and with a motto of love and peace they rejected and protested against wars, specifically the Vietnam War.

Woodstock would go down in history as the most legendary music festival of all time. Everything seemed to work to perfection during that magical summer of 1969: the atmosphere, the people, the music. 500,000 hippies descended into a meadow to hear greats like Jimi Hendrix, The Who, and Jefferson Airplane.

The traffic got stuck in the areas surrounding Woodstock, the food ran out and there were too few toilets and first aid workers. Still, there were hardly any disturbances and help came quickly from all possible corners. The locals donated food, the army flew in relief supplies and doctors offered their services for free. Woodstock proved that half a million young people , for three days, could live and get along in harmony and was thus a symbol of the fraternizing effects of music.

Director Michael Wadleigh was there and shot pictures that you could frame and hang up in your house. In his documentary Woodstock: 3 Days of Peace & Music Wadleigh presents atmospheric images which he alternates with performances and interviews with festival-goers, artists, organizers, local people and even authority.

He appears to have an eye for special moments; the camera always seems to be in the right place at the exact right time. This makes Woodstock more than just your average festival film, but a living and breathing document with high historical value.

The film paints a stunning portrait of the generation that grew up with rock, recreational drugs and free love, but also with racial hatred, the Vietnam War and the threat of nuclear weapons. The magic of Woodstock gave America and other parts of the world, for a brief moment in time the feeling and sensation that peace and freedom were at hand's reach, not an illusion, not a fantasy, a gorgeous and realistic possibility.

The script of Michael Wadleigh is build up according to how this great festival was being constructed and how it was unfolding and shows the coexistence of the assistants. Michael wanted stories of the young people: their feelings about Vietnam, about the time and feelings and thoughts about i, they most certainly had.

He didn't only want it to be music and with several cuts and screen divisions he was visualizing different parts of the farm where people are shown exactly as they are, with absolute spontaneity. His way of filming included mostly close ups and traveling. The camera followed the assistants, in fact there is a part that I found hilarious where Wadleigh follows someone on a motorcycle and he eventually bumps into the helmet of the guy on the motorcycle.

Giving an accurate chronology of what was the first mega festival in the history of music would almost be like attempting to sing a song that we all know there is always someone who doesn't know it. But I think it's good to refresh some facts and curious data.

We know that Woodstock didn't take place in Woodstock but a Bethel farm owned by a good man named Max Yasgur who agreed to receive 6,000 people (in the end there were more than 500,000) to please his son Sam who was a mediator along with his father and the twenty-somethings Michael Lang, Joel Rosenman and Artie Kornfeld, producers and creative minds of the festival.

What perhaps no one imagined is that Woodstock would become an event that would transcend the strictly musical to acquire a deeper meaning: a spiritual and philosophical one, more than half a million people living peacefully for three days, making this festival the milestone that marked a revolution of love And peace counteracting the violent events that happened in the world.

For US $ 18 you could see and hear from the 15th to 17th of August of 1969 (among others) Legendary Janis Joplin, The Who, Country Joe McDonald, Incredible String Band, Ravi Shankar, Joan Baez, Santana, Canned Heat, Mountain, Sly & The Family Stone, Grateful Dead, Creedence Clearwater Revival, Jefferson Airplane, Joe Cocker, Country Joe and the Fish, Ten Years After, The Band, Blood, Sweat & Tears, Johnny Winter, Crosby, Stills, Nash & Young, Paul Butterfield Blues Band, Sha-Na-Na and Jimi Hendrix. (Anyways eventually an anarchist group broke the fences the first day officially making it a totally free festival).

Those who were not there: Bob Dylan (he was angry with the fans who had harassed him during his motorcycle accident that had kept him away from the stage for a long time). He was only to play at Woodstock '94. King Crimson, because of commitments in Britain; The Byrd said "it's just another summer festival"; Led Zeppelin because they did not want to be "another band on the list"; The Beatles were no longer playing live and John Lennon apparently was unable to enter the United States in those days; The Doors two versions: one that underestimated the festival, the other that Jim Morrison feared he would be killed on stage. In short, we do not know if they later on regretted it or not, I know I would.

The film has so many golden moments that it is difficult to choose a favorite. The aerial shots of the huge crowds. The yogis who are through breathing exercises getting naturally high. The couples that are kissing or making out, or even taking it to the next level. The organizers explaining with a big smile on their face that Woodstock is an utter financial disaster.

A girl with a colorful umbrella on a deserted trampled festival ground.The Chief of Police calling the parents of America to be proud of their offspring. Hippies Chanting “NO RAIN! “, noticing that it doesn't help, and then allowed themselves to fall and glide into the mud.

There are only a few minor points. The picture quality logically falters here and there, and leaves stuff to be desired, interviews are difficult to understand because of the background noise and Wadleigh is somewhat too excited with alternating formats at times.

Not everyone likes to contemplate big black bars on the screen. Also, the documentary with It's 3.5 hours is perhaps a bit on the long side. But, then you at least have something that entertains for a few hours right? in the case of Woodstock I'm inclined to say more content is definitely better than less content of lesser quality!

(And personally I find It's imperfectness uterrly charming, it is authentic just like it was, if you go to a concert or a big festival there's just a lot of noise and a lot of what's going on might actually pass you by, and that's that). Woodstock is a film that should be seen by every music lover. Even if you, metaphorically speaking hatched out of the egg after the hippie era.

It is enormously striking to me that nearly everybody that is interviewed is either grinning, smiling, chuckling or laughing: animatedly or loudly, and the ones that aren't being interviewed are having silly or deep, philosophical conversations or they're joking with a friend.

They're smoking weed, they're skinny dipping, they're kissing or they're off making love in between the grass and the flowers, no inhibition, and no shame. For me also striking is that these people when you’re watching them seemed so alive, they were right at the moment, so into it, they were really living it, no one was only half experiencing it, because they were more focused on getting good footage on their phones, nowadays half of them would probably be staring at a screen.

These people were really genuinely happy (with the exception of one angry older couple that lived near the festival, who were angry at all the noise and the kids taking drugs, to which somebody counter suggests they're peaceful, maybe we should all smoke); happiness permeates throughout the entire film and you really can't help but smile, the belief in love and kindness that permeates through here would melt the hardest and the coldest of hearts.

Woodstock shows that people can come together and coexist together, calmly in harmony and in peace, without violence, without posing a threat to one another. Everybody seemed to believe in helping one another, and it all came from the belief in one thing: peace and love, the power of love, that loving is the one thing that frees us. And it is a beautiful thing to witness.

Of course, it wasn't all perfect or beautiful, Woodstock was, of course, one massive open air manifesto for love and peace, a protest against one thing war and violence, against the worst sides of our nature.

There is something harrowing and chilling under the surface: of some of the happy, smiling young men that you see, some even if they didn't believe in war and killing would be sent to Vietnam and never come back. Some would experience shell shock afterward or other psychological disorders, some would never smile or make love again; but hey at least for three days they were completely free, they spoke their minds and they defended their beliefs.

And yet still there the army was: helping them, probably partly so that they'd have enough men to serve in the army later... but still it was an act of kindness and they seemed to really believe something good was happening, they brought them food (there allegedly once during the festival was breakfast on bed or better in tent for everyone) and drinks. Everybody simply seemed absorbed into the magic of the festival, everyone believed in kindness and in love for a few days.

Woodstock was declared a disaster area and a financial disaster as I said earlier and, yet the organizers were happy and smiling about it, they didn’t see it as an economical failure, they saw it as a success, human nature at It's best, everybody at the festival was civil with one another.

One of the reasons that I love the documentary, even if the hippie movement and what they believed in didn't last and in many things, I'd say, unfortunately, except of course for the STDS that inevitably came with free love...

But I love that these people so passionately defended and held onto their beliefs, even in the world around them weren't all that beautiful at that particular time, there were fear and threats also, but they preferred defending the positive and trying to get the world to see the positive rather than focusing all their attention and energy on the negative, they actually, physically tried to make a change...

It's a nice reminder of human decency and of the fact that people can live with each other harmoniously, that everybody can be each other's equal, these people really believed that and for a beautiful moment in time it really was so...

I find that watching Woodstock when really helped to instill a new positivity, a renewed belief in humanity, but then I think: it didn't last, was it really one of the all-time highs in human civilisation and has it in some aspects gone downhill since? But then some part of me thinks if these people could do it, then surely it oughta be possible again, so I'm a bit conflicted by the end, both sad and happy.

And then there's the music of course! It is pure, honest and straight from the heart ... The lineup of Woodstock was mouth-watering and would give many people goosebumps and chills of pleasure and many performances are considered classic. Richie Havens who improvised the song "Freedomi" during his set.

Janis Joplin who died too young was singing her lungs out.”Pinball Wizard" by The Who and "Purple Haze" by Jimi Hendrix. Carlos Santana that presents himself to a large audience, with a very young Michael Shrieve behind the drums. The energy explodes from the stage and all that beautiful music is thanks to the improved sound quality of the Director's Cut allowed to shine even more. So a real treat!

The biggest concern and which was the motive of the film is to show the rejection of the government system as such, people were tired of wars and the festival was a way of being able to express themselves and not to obtain an economic purpose but rather to unify and to make known to the world their peaceful ideals and the love of art.

It shows how an event defined a generation, how the love of art and music can achieve a feeling and unite many people in the goal of achieving peace. In addition, Wadleigh accomplished his mission, to show the ideas and stories of the people besides making evident what the acts that took place in Woodstock were. Simply a delightful documentary.

Some facts: The poster of Woodstock 69 is one of the most famous images in the world and also became a symbol of peace. Rolling Stone included the festival on a list of the 50 defining moments in Rock and music history. Jimi Hendrix insisted on closing the festival and gave the longest concert of his career. The festival started an hour late because it was difficult to find any of the artists in the fit enough condition to perform.

Tim Hardin was too high and his repertoire was limited to two tracks (later he died of a heroin overdose). Richie Havens, who opened the first day's performances, had to lengthen his repertoire because the next ones to play were not ready. His song Freedom became a worldwide anthem.

The drugs deserve a separate paragraph: Nine out of ten festival goers smoked marijuana and in total 33 were arrested for drug use, according to health services. "Bad trip" cases with LSD: 400. Bond price in Dollars to release those arrested for possession of LSD: 20,000. Price in dollars of 30 grams of marijuana: 15.

There were two births in Woodstock, as well as free sex, mud, music, food shortages (the army sent aid by air). Three deaths: a boy hit by a tractor while sleeping, another after a ruptured appendix and another by overdose of heroin. Hundreds of people who could not get through because of chaos in transit. The average speed of the cars was 1.6 km per hour. And a millionaire loss that took 10 years to recover from for the organizers. The cleaning of the property demanded U $ S 100,000 extra.

To finish, I extract a paragraph written a couple of years ago in Rolling Stone magazine signed by Andy Greene. The note refers to the filming of the documentary and it seems to me a beautiful summary:

“Smiling nuns make peace signs to the camera; Cops eat ice cream from popsicle sticks with hippies; And the old folks make a common cause to feed the fans. And, like everyone in Woodstock, the very existence of the documentary is a small miracle. Just moments after cameraman David Myers finished filming a couple having sex on the grown grass at the Woodstock festival in 1969, he found a garbage man that was cleaning a chemical toilet that flooded with a huge sucking hose. "It’s hard to keep up,” he says. “I’m glad to do it for these kids. My son is here, and I also have one in Vietnam. Now he’s in the demilitarised zone, flying helicopters. "As the man heads to his next chemical toilet, a tall hippie stumbles out of one, smoking a pipe, looks fixedly at the camera and says, ”They don’t see us. Do you want some?”

The Woodstock film crew:

L-R: Michael Wadleigh, Renee Wadleigh, Martin Scorsese

Arlo Guthrie: It's incredible. I heard the New York Thruway's closed. News Reporter: Closed? This morning we heard that they were backed down Route 17 with an eight hour delay. Arlo Guthrie: Right. Well, the New York Thruway's closed. Isn't that far out?

“Max Yasgur: [to crowd] This is the largest group of people ever assembled in one place, and I think you people have proven something to the world: that a half a million kids can get together and have three days of fun and music and have nothing *but* fun and music, and I God bless you for it!”

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ozsaill · 7 years

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Cruising to slow down the clock

This is all going too fast.

Events that impressed deeply on our memories, still fresh, have tallied months distance despite feeling like they just happened: Sailing west again, towards Bonaire (three months). Remotely watching landfall for hurricane Irma (six months). Sailing away the USA for a while again (12 months). Saying goodbye to Utopia when we left South Africa (25 months). Setting out to cross the Indian Ocean (three years already?).

Looking ahead, milestones rush towards us and compress time again. On Friday March 9th, Totem will enter the Panama Canal to begin our two-day transit to the Pacific. This incredible event brings the coming milestones into sharper focus.

In about four weeks—just four weeks!—we expect to cross Totem’s outbound track in Zihuatenejo, Mexico, and technically complete our circumnavigation. Wow.

In about six weeks, Jamie and I will fly to Annapolis and deliver seminars as part of Cruisers University. When we signed on for it, the trip back to the USA seemed so far way. Only six weeks away?

In about four months, our family will be back on the home turf of Bainbridge island for the first time in nearly 10 years. That’s going to be here so soon! It’s going to be so good to see our friends and family after so many years. How did they years fly so fast?

I’ve wished so many times that life had a PAUSE button: the ability to freeze ourselves in some of the stunning, otherworldly destinations we’ve been lucky to visit. Like the year we crossed the South Pacific: in eight months we went from Mexico to Australia; many of our stops were only long enough to wait for a weather window to make the three- to five-day passage to the next island group ahead. That year was exceptional, but the year we crossed the Indian Ocean wasn’t terribly different, and we sailed even more miles in 2016 between South Africa and the USA… over 9,000 nautical miles. Fast. So many exceptional places.

Even when it’s felt like time is flying by, it’s the good fortune of experiencing exactly these stunning, otherworldly destinations that helps. There’s a theory that adding to retrievable memories creates the feeling of time slowing. That the more of this positive disruption you fit in, the better; they are speed bumps that extend the perception of time in our rear view mirror. This reminiscence effect makes sense at a gut level. Think about it this way: when everyday life has less differentiation that it blends together, and feels more like time is flying by… disrupt that with less predictable, more unique experiences to stretch it out. Not quite a pause button. But this is why we went cruising: to slow down time, and spend it together as a family. It didn’t occur to me there were theories and all that.

Kids in 2008, and this past year

Pictures like the above, taken during our first months of cruising (sailing under San Francisco’s Golden Gate bridge!) and taken in the last year of our growing-up-too-fast teens, warm my heart. It still feels like they flew by. But I’m grateful for the packed year of memories we’ve had, whether it can be bundled in psychology theory or not.

Of course, you can speed things up if you want. The World ARC fleet that we encountered in the Santa Marta marina gets around the globe in 15 months. It’s not our choice, but it’s still a great one for a year of incredible memories! But as one of those sailors we met there pointed out – this isn’t cruising, really. This is circumnavigating. There’s a different purpose for those crews, to accomplish a specific and remarkable achievement by sailing around the world. Like when families go cruising for a sabbatical year, and choose to spend that a remarkable year in a small geographical region, exploring trails and language and culture and the mysteries of a starry night. Whether you lap the globe or hang out locally, there are so many ways to hit PAUSE and stretch out the time spent together with loved ones. IT’S ALL GOOD.

Care to follow Totem’s canal transit?

The Panama Canal authority actually has live cameras taking stills of the locks at several points! Here’s where to look. The master page of live cams is here: http://www.pancanal.com/eng/photo/camera-java.html Note: non-flash versions of the cams are working better for me… and some cams are simply not working at all.

On Friday, March 9, we’ll transit from the Caribbean side to Lake Gatun between 3:00 and 5:00, US Eastern Standard time. After anchoring overnight in Lake Gatun, we’ll transit the balance of locks to the Pacific side on Saturday – timing TBD. I’ll post updates on Facebook and Twitter, though.

The website shows cam locations. Here’s the Totems-eye-view of them. Isn’t it strange that to go to the Pacific, we travel… EAST more than west? And how about that collection of AIS targets near Totem’s current location? IT’S BUSY, FOLKS.

I’m equal parts excited and nervous about the next two days!

Once we get through the canal we have a challenges to face between Panama and the “safe” ground of Zihuatenejo. Two in particular: their names are papagayo and Tehuanapec. You know it’s time to pay very close attention when weather effects get a vanity name! Take a look at the angrier colors on the map below and you’ll see what I mean… I’m sure we’ll have plenty to say about them soon enough.

This… will take careful attention.

Interested in Cruisers University?

Jamie and I are thrilled to both present at the Annapolis Boat Show’s Cruisers University this spring! We’re planning a pizzeria dinner with coaching clients as well, and can’t wait to catch up with friends. Sign up for two, three, or four day access depending on which sessions you’re interested in – and let us know if you’ll be there!

Healthcare in Paradise (Behan) Cruising on a Budget – Gold, Silver & Bronze (Behan) Cruising Docs – You Can’t Go Paperless (Behan) Countdown to Cruising (Behan) Top Newbie Cruising Mistakes (Behan) Offshore Rigging & Sails (Jamie) Crisis Management while Cruising (Jamie + Behan)

In addition, I’ll co-lead an intensive Cruising Women seminar. This is two full days of practical information and uncensored conversations, about skills, and tips about what it’s REALLY like to go cruising. Grateful, and honored, that my partner is the (irrepressible, enthusiastic, so fun to be around, and I’ll say it–iconic) Pam Wall. We both feel keenly about empowering women and want everyone to have a really good time in the process! Join us – or, get in touch with me if you want more information about the content, or any the sessions, really.

More haps!

Friends from the USA recently spent a week and a half aboard. The Waters family and their two teens helped create a pile of excellent memories (and brought a big pile of Stuff From The States, like – MAPLE SYRUP, which was dangerously low, our stash had a mere two tablespoons left!). Nica’s written about a day in the life aboard Totem on her blog, It’s an informed view, which you’d expect, because she and Jeremy went cruising before kids, again for a sabbatical with kids, and we are now scheming how to share anchorages in the South Pacific in another year or two… when they fledge the kids. Nica also has a food blog: on this weeks’ edition of Tasty Thursday, I teach her how to make one of my favorite cruising recipes. It’s a memory from the Maldives, it’s “exotic” but easy, and you can make it pretty much anywhere. Curious? Watch the episode and learn about Mashuni!

Also live today: our debut on a NON SAILING PODCAST. The guys at Verbal Shenanigans have a comedy program and did an excellent job of teasing stories about the cruising life out of me and Jamie, while getting us all to laugh. Possibly there was rum involved! Find it here: Totem interview starting around 12 min mark – the whys, the hows, some exceptional experiences, and a dose of everyday cruising life.

Looking for the Pause button

Life slows down when we fill it with exceptional memories. But meanwhile, we have no pause button for the days that fly by in Shelter Bay Marina on the Caribbean side of the Panama Canal. Totem has been here just over a week. My head is swimming with stories to tell about the last weeks in South America, but they’ll have to wait for now!

Totem kids, first year cruising

from Sailing Totem http://ift.tt/2DbKIzC via IFTTT

#IFTTT #Sailing Totem

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