Yagyuu Hiroshi (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
usedlaserbeam) wrote2011-07-29 01:21 pm
usedlaserbeam) wrote2011-07-29 01:21 pm
Entry tags:
- always glorious always victorious,
- denial: not just a river in egypt,
- i am fifteen and what is this,
- mad pokemon breeding science,
- my pokeymans let me show you them,
- no tennis no life,
- purple = do not want,
- somehow this is all niou's fault,
- the gentleman is not amused,
- the perils of dramatic irony,
- their love is so molecular,
- ▶ goldenrod city
004 | Goldenrod City | Video / Action;
[Well, Johto, in a slight change of pace, this video is not coming to you today courtesy of PhantomCam™; in truth, it's actually sort of more like Lady's-Paw-Landed-On-The-Record-ButtonCam™, and the accidental nature of the recording shows. The vast majority of the shot shows a tilted, haphazard view of a bedroom (a very neat bedroom, an observant viewer might note), and only a small sliver actually manages to catch Yagyuu, who appears to have set his backpack down on the bed and is methodically extracting the contents.
(Every so often, this view ends up marred by what seems to be a tuft of tawny brown fur, or the occasional pink tail feather.)
Yagyuu, however, seems reasonably oblivious to being recorded, his attention fixed on the series of items he's removing from his backpack, one by one: a notebook and pen, a novel with a slightly dog-eared cover, a roll of grip tape, a tennis racket that he places aside with the utmost of care. With an Eevee and what eventually reveals itself as a Pidgeotto bustling around on the bed, he's clearly not taking any chances that it might get damaged.
This patient, deliberate ritual of unpacking goes on in silence for a minute or two, Yagyuu still apparently ignorant to the fact that he's on candid camera, when at last something shifts: he reaches into the bag and his expression abruptly turns to one of surprise and mild disgust. And when he yanks his hand back out of it, a sticky mass of purple goop (which is now partially encasing his hand) comes with it.
Eyes narrowed, he gives his hand a rather adamant shake, but the goo doesn't dislodge; on the contrary, it spreads a little wider and smiles at him.
A harder shake. It remains unfazed.
And then at last, with a long-suffering sigh, Yagyuu turns away from the camera and stalks out of sight, footsteps firm against the carpet as he apparently makes his way toward the room's door.]
Niou-kun...
[The door closes (it's not quite a slam, but it is perhaps a little more firm than was really necessary) and the Pokemon on the bed begin to shuffle around, and somewhere in the commotion another paw hits the Gear and the feed ends.]
(Every so often, this view ends up marred by what seems to be a tuft of tawny brown fur, or the occasional pink tail feather.)
Yagyuu, however, seems reasonably oblivious to being recorded, his attention fixed on the series of items he's removing from his backpack, one by one: a notebook and pen, a novel with a slightly dog-eared cover, a roll of grip tape, a tennis racket that he places aside with the utmost of care. With an Eevee and what eventually reveals itself as a Pidgeotto bustling around on the bed, he's clearly not taking any chances that it might get damaged.
This patient, deliberate ritual of unpacking goes on in silence for a minute or two, Yagyuu still apparently ignorant to the fact that he's on candid camera, when at last something shifts: he reaches into the bag and his expression abruptly turns to one of surprise and mild disgust. And when he yanks his hand back out of it, a sticky mass of purple goop (which is now partially encasing his hand) comes with it.
Eyes narrowed, he gives his hand a rather adamant shake, but the goo doesn't dislodge; on the contrary, it spreads a little wider and smiles at him.
A harder shake. It remains unfazed.
And then at last, with a long-suffering sigh, Yagyuu turns away from the camera and stalks out of sight, footsteps firm against the carpet as he apparently makes his way toward the room's door.]
Niou-kun...
[The door closes (it's not quite a slam, but it is perhaps a little more firm than was really necessary) and the Pokemon on the bed begin to shuffle around, and somewhere in the commotion another paw hits the Gear and the feed ends.]
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[ and there are about five different emotions in one syllable. ]
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[ be it for the sake of appearance or not. ]
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