AAARrrgh jumperslash fic post
Title: Turnabout
Authors Name: rip_the_tide
Rating: PG-13
DISCLAIMER: DO NOT OWN
Warnings: a swear
Word count: 427
Characters: Griffin, David-my god, actual dialogue
Summary: Griffin’s eyelids were butterfly wings.
A/N: 11/100 prompts 52 and 27, you’re so cold but you feel alive and sincere
Griffin’s eyelids were butterfly wings. They fluttered then opened wide displaying beautiful eyes. Beautiful sea-gray colored eyes that were less alive now than David had ever seen them. For a moment David could imagine those salt-ice eyes printed on the back of moth wings, spread and speared and placed carefully under glass, never to be touched or felt, only to be admired by parading preschool children, shuddering at the brittle exoskeletons pinned to the wall. Those rooms in which fragile, delicate things are kept-things a brush of the knuckles or even a single breath would reduce to fine dust that would find itself in your lungs-always seemed cold. David hadn’t yet figured out whether the temperature was due to the controlled climate necessary for the preservation of such things or the horror of having murdered and pinned beauty to the wall by her wings.
That cold, cold shudder was the sensation David felt when Griffin’s eyes shone, blue and desperate from within his pale face.
David’s hand jumped, like a spark jumping suicidally from its fire, vaguely in the direction of Griffin’s shoulder. In order to make contact from his cross-legged position on the sand he would have been forced to lean far forward and extend his arm completely.
Griffin’s hand dragged, somewhat haphazardly over the sand to gingerly probe the large bruise throbbing at the junction of neck and skull. He prodded a few moments, as David watched with worry run ragged. Griffin’s hand flopped back to the sand next to his head and his moth wing eyes reflected the stars.
“What’ye still doin here?”
David had no answer prepared. He hadn’t even thought of the question. It had been the right thing to do, the only thing to do. Maybe that was why Griffin didn’t understand it.
“I couldn’t just leave you.” David said, real, honest desperation in his inflection. The sun was setting.
“Really?” Griffin laughed, “Really? Well, tha’s funny, cause, ye know, I thought you already had, I mean, unless I was imagining that whole incident, you remember, where I was trapping in a fucking pylon?”
Griffin’s moth-eyes flared and David thought he knew exactly what an entomologist would have felt like if the moths fluttered to life, swarmed out from under their glass cases and pinned him to the wall of his showroom, bracketed by empty, broken display cases.
David closed his eyes, he could almost feel the dust from furious moths’ wings coating his throat. Being pinned to a wall hurt but David supposed that turnabout was fair play.
Authors Name: rip_the_tide
Rating: PG-13
DISCLAIMER: DO NOT OWN
Warnings: a swear
Word count: 427
Characters: Griffin, David-my god, actual dialogue
Summary: Griffin’s eyelids were butterfly wings.
A/N: 11/100 prompts 52 and 27, you’re so cold but you feel alive and sincere
Griffin’s eyelids were butterfly wings. They fluttered then opened wide displaying beautiful eyes. Beautiful sea-gray colored eyes that were less alive now than David had ever seen them. For a moment David could imagine those salt-ice eyes printed on the back of moth wings, spread and speared and placed carefully under glass, never to be touched or felt, only to be admired by parading preschool children, shuddering at the brittle exoskeletons pinned to the wall. Those rooms in which fragile, delicate things are kept-things a brush of the knuckles or even a single breath would reduce to fine dust that would find itself in your lungs-always seemed cold. David hadn’t yet figured out whether the temperature was due to the controlled climate necessary for the preservation of such things or the horror of having murdered and pinned beauty to the wall by her wings.
That cold, cold shudder was the sensation David felt when Griffin’s eyes shone, blue and desperate from within his pale face.
David’s hand jumped, like a spark jumping suicidally from its fire, vaguely in the direction of Griffin’s shoulder. In order to make contact from his cross-legged position on the sand he would have been forced to lean far forward and extend his arm completely.
Griffin’s hand dragged, somewhat haphazardly over the sand to gingerly probe the large bruise throbbing at the junction of neck and skull. He prodded a few moments, as David watched with worry run ragged. Griffin’s hand flopped back to the sand next to his head and his moth wing eyes reflected the stars.
“What’ye still doin here?”
David had no answer prepared. He hadn’t even thought of the question. It had been the right thing to do, the only thing to do. Maybe that was why Griffin didn’t understand it.
“I couldn’t just leave you.” David said, real, honest desperation in his inflection. The sun was setting.
“Really?” Griffin laughed, “Really? Well, tha’s funny, cause, ye know, I thought you already had, I mean, unless I was imagining that whole incident, you remember, where I was trapping in a fucking pylon?”
Griffin’s moth-eyes flared and David thought he knew exactly what an entomologist would have felt like if the moths fluttered to life, swarmed out from under their glass cases and pinned him to the wall of his showroom, bracketed by empty, broken display cases.
David closed his eyes, he could almost feel the dust from furious moths’ wings coating his throat. Being pinned to a wall hurt but David supposed that turnabout was fair play.