Dec 12, 2020
Moodblurb - Walker
seen from Germany
seen from China
seen from Jamaica
seen from United Kingdom
seen from United States
seen from T1
seen from Ecuador
seen from Australia
seen from United States
seen from Japan
seen from Canada
seen from India
seen from Belgium
seen from Uganda
seen from United States
seen from Myanmar (Burma)
seen from Malaysia
seen from Brazil
seen from Peru
seen from Netherlands
Moodblurb - Walker
Moodblurb - Characters in suits
Moodblurb - Zireael
Moodblurb - Hmm..
Who doesn’t love a good nap?
You do.
The flowery grass meadow in this forest a truly per-fect spot for a quick snooze in between the scenes that are to be shot here for the new Witcher episodes.
Had you lost track of time? Maybe a little, your eyes blinking open to the sound of a strange quiet.
It simply was too quiet for the usually busy filmset.
‘Hmm..’ A dark voice rumbled just a few feet away from you.
‘What is it Geralt? Lost your tongue?’ Jaskier sniffled, the sassy bard striking a tune on his lute, ready to start singing when he was, by the sound of a muffled tap on the instrument, stopped by the grumpy Witcher.
‘Something’s there.’ The white haired whispered darkly.
Blinking in utter horror you sat up in the knee-high grass, making sure you remained unseen. And, indeed, the comical duo was sitting just a few meters ahead, the whole crew behind them, cameras rolling.
OH FUCK.
So far for your time management - damnit!
Seeing Henry - or should you say Geralt? - turning towards you, his face a focused snarl as he took in his surroundings, you quickly ducked away, missing in that split second that some amused giggles were escaping muffled mouths.
‘I can smell it..’ He grumbled, making you blush profusely.
Oh..gods..you had to get out of here..you had to..okay..okay.
Crawl!
And so you did, tiger-crawling away as quickly, but also as quietly as you could, the grass leaving a hushed whisper in your wake.
Behind you, you could hear the Witcher get up, the grass rustling as you moved behind a tree, your mouth letting out a quiet sigh as you managed to sit up against the rough bark, hoping you were at least out of the camera’s view.
‘HMM...’ His voice rung right in the shell of your ear, making you jump in shock, your eyes looking straight in the large ember coloured irises of one very cheekily grinning Witcher.
‘Henry..you..!’ You swatted his arm, pouting in disapproval, the crew behind the tree now bursting out in loud laughter.
‘Very..very funny.’ You growled, looking back around the tree to see the crew resetting the original scene now you were no longer disturbing it.
‘Oh, it was.’ Henry grinned, offering you a hand to get back up.
Walking back out on set, the director waved.
‘Let’s do that again!’
Still blushing profusely, you wished to get out of sight of the crew as quickly as possible, but..well..that wasn’t about to happen just yet, the director gesturing at you, his finger pointing at your initial napping spot.
‘A-again?’ You gasped.
‘A little lower this time, thank you!’ The director smiled, leaving no room for protest on your behalf.
‘Hmmm..’ Geralt hummed again, though this time with a nod of approval, winking at you and sinking back on the log he had been sitting on just moments earlier.
And so it happened that you became a forest spirit, causing the grass to rustle in the back of that scene as you fled your napping spot - unbeknownst to the watchers at home -, but ever the fun little memory for the crew who had been there that day.
And napping?
Well..let’s just say that truly nothing..and you really mean NOTHING, nothing could beat a good nap!
(Though inviting looking grassy meadows were indeed skipped for the time being)
Moodblurb - Mountain Bear
Moodblurb - Dettlaff
Mood blurb - Professor, professor!
One thing was clear; he was a dreamy dork.
Professor Cavill had this giggle about him, his eyes always holding a sparkle of joy, of mirth, as he hastily paced through the hallways because he once again forgot about the time.
Too busy reading and most definitely too busy dreaming about Miss Pennywop.
Click, clack, click, clack, his worn soles echoed through the empty stone arches.
Make haste, make haste, make way! Oh students, I am so late! Where did I have to be again? Was it 1.04, 1.40 or nay?
Click, clack, click, clack.
Oh yes, where the professor was a master of the written word, he definitely wasn’t a master of numbers..or memorising where his next class was.
His eyes nervously flicked past the small golden classroom signs. 1.04? He slowed his step as he overthought it once more.
Yes, tis it, I am indeed quite sure.
And thus with a heel spin, he pushed open the door.
A short silence fell and his eyes widened with disbelief, as he looked right at a very surprised Miss Pennywop, OH DEAR!
Blinking she looked at him over the edge of her half-moons, the classroom quiet despite being filled like a sardine can cartoon.
NOT 1.04.
OH dear...oh dear, oh dear!
Blushing fiercely, his lips curled up into a nervous smile. His apologies brisk before he sprinted off in huricane-like style.
Oh dear, my dear, oh NO! What must she think of me now, so?
And despite the roaring laughter that followed him, he couldn’t help but smile the same.
Because she had laughed as well. Her face atwinkle as he had come into frame.
It may have been at his expense, OWEE, and yet he couldn’t help, but think; she smiled, she did, FOR ME!