Scalded by the fire of the great moon. [Gintama]
GINTAMA and all characters/ideas/concepts/places therein are not mine, although the writing certainly is.
Title: Scalded by the fire of the great moon.
Characters/Pairing(s): Gintoki and Tsukuyo
Rating: G
Summary: So maybe she changed his mind.
Warnings? N/A
Notes: The title is taken from a line the poem “The Taxi”, by Ami Lowell. Happy Birthday, Pris! '^'
Scalded by the fire of the great moon.
Let it be known that prior to meeting Tsukuyo, Gintoki’s never been incredibly interested in women. He isn’t into dudes, mind you, and it’s not that he doesn’t like women. He loves them, in fact, especially when they’re striking a cute pose and puckering their lips up at him from the glossy pages of a magazine (they can’t swing naginatas at his head or feed him horrendously burned omelettes or hole up and watch him from the ceiling of his bedroom from there, see). He just isn’t interested. Girls are too much of a hassle. It’ll be great for a bit, and then the clinging will start, and the nagging will follow, and then the Expectations, and he likes his freedom and his money and his gambling and his strawberry parfaits too much to risk it all for a booty call.
How it started, though, was the fact that for a good, long time Gintoki didn’t really think of Tsukuyo as a proper dame in the first place. Her attitude was the farthest thing from cute, and the fact that she could rather skillfully stick a kunai up his ass without the slightest provocation made him all the more inclined to lump her in with the rest of the “women” in his life: some fearsome female creature that he’d best avoid whenever he could.
The turning point must have happened after they put Jiraiya down. In the nights that followed, he found himself remembering how frail and small Tsukuyo’s shoulders had been between his own two hands, and how Tsukuyo had looked as she held the corpse of her master close to her chest and greeted the rising sun with her tears.
It’s a dangerous business, when one starts seeing a person they like for what she really is. With the revelation comes feelings. Feelings are just as hassling as women.
These are the things Gintoki tells himself, whenever he’s had one cup too many and discovers that it makes Tsukuyo look cuter, or when he finds himself staring a bit too long after her once she’s gone on her way. There’s no denial: only self-preservation. And maybe the occasional privilege of groping her for great justice.
Title: Scalded by the fire of the great moon.
Characters/Pairing(s): Gintoki and Tsukuyo
Rating: G
Summary: So maybe she changed his mind.
Warnings? N/A
Notes: The title is taken from a line the poem “The Taxi”, by Ami Lowell. Happy Birthday, Pris! '^'
Scalded by the fire of the great moon.
Let it be known that prior to meeting Tsukuyo, Gintoki’s never been incredibly interested in women. He isn’t into dudes, mind you, and it’s not that he doesn’t like women. He loves them, in fact, especially when they’re striking a cute pose and puckering their lips up at him from the glossy pages of a magazine (they can’t swing naginatas at his head or feed him horrendously burned omelettes or hole up and watch him from the ceiling of his bedroom from there, see). He just isn’t interested. Girls are too much of a hassle. It’ll be great for a bit, and then the clinging will start, and the nagging will follow, and then the Expectations, and he likes his freedom and his money and his gambling and his strawberry parfaits too much to risk it all for a booty call.
How it started, though, was the fact that for a good, long time Gintoki didn’t really think of Tsukuyo as a proper dame in the first place. Her attitude was the farthest thing from cute, and the fact that she could rather skillfully stick a kunai up his ass without the slightest provocation made him all the more inclined to lump her in with the rest of the “women” in his life: some fearsome female creature that he’d best avoid whenever he could.
The turning point must have happened after they put Jiraiya down. In the nights that followed, he found himself remembering how frail and small Tsukuyo’s shoulders had been between his own two hands, and how Tsukuyo had looked as she held the corpse of her master close to her chest and greeted the rising sun with her tears.
It’s a dangerous business, when one starts seeing a person they like for what she really is. With the revelation comes feelings. Feelings are just as hassling as women.
These are the things Gintoki tells himself, whenever he’s had one cup too many and discovers that it makes Tsukuyo look cuter, or when he finds himself staring a bit too long after her once she’s gone on her way. There’s no denial: only self-preservation. And maybe the occasional privilege of groping her for great justice.