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greatgigintheskiess · 4 months ago

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A bond beyond flight

CW: Blood, Broken wings, Tiny Whump

Word count: < 2 k

On a warm spring evening, Eleonore was tending to her garden, as usual and at this time of the year, most of her flowers had already spread their blossoms. Different scents lay in the soft evening breeze as the old woman finished her work of weeding and stretched her aching back a bit.

Day by day, she's getting older, Eleonore thought. And in fact, she clearly wasn't the youngest anymore but in her mid sixties, having her sweet years behind. Her husband had died 10 years ago, since then she barely went out to talk to other people. Her only son lived far away and had his own family to care for, only visiting her on her birthday and Christmas. And sometimes, when she's all alone, on quiet evenings like this, she noticed how lonely she actually was.

Eleonore let out a long sigh and put the last strands of weed in her basket before bringing it into her shed. No doubts, her backyard looked good like this, at least one thing she's good for in her age. She had admired her work for a while now and then slowly went up on her porch, sitting down in a rocking chair with a short breath, panting. The old woman sat there for a moment, letting the thoughts flow through her head as the birds and crickets filled the silence with their melody.

But somewhere in the distance was a squeaking.

No, actually quite nearby.

Eleonore sharpened her ears, though her eyes may not be the best anymore, her good hearing still remained, for a woman her age. She looked around the backyard and slowly stood up from her chair. The sound was coming from behind her flower pots, which were standing not far away from the porch door. Carefully, the elder shoved one pot away, to see what caused that noise.

And on the wood, right beside the wall, she saw a little moth cub. Eleonore leaned down a bit to take a closer look at the tiny one, when she realized it was wounded. One of its brown wings was so damaged that the poor thing probably will never fly again. It must've gotten into a light trap as the lamp was hanging right above.

Very slowly, the woman kneeled down and took the moth cub into her hands. With a sad frown, she looked down on it as there sure wasn't any hope it could survive without its wings. But the little one was still breathing and slightly moved on her hand, revealing its tiny body. And from this angle, it looked like a young boy, around 12 years, with fluffy chestnut hair, one side slightly lighter than the other. He was wearing some kind of green cloth, one could merely call a shirt, his freckled skin was covered in dried mud and his tiny nose bloody.

Eleonore couldn't believe her eyes. She has never seen a tiny creature like this and wondered where the boy came from. He looked so worn out and scrunched up his tiny face, squeaking helplessly.

"Poor little thing...", she mumbled to the boy in her hands.

As carefully as she could, the elderly woman put the child in her apron's large pocket and went inside her home. On a desk, she placed down her sewing pillow and took out all the needles, putting them in a jar. Eleonore took the moth cub out of her pocket again, feeling that he's slowly getting back his consciousness, and placed him on the pillow.

"There you go, little one."

The boy flapped his eyes open and stirred on the pillow, trying to push himself up but gnashed his teeth in pain. Eleonore held her hand for support, one of her fingers gently stroking his head.

"Careful, sweetheart, careful", she said softly, watching the child sitting up on the fabric, his wings hanging down helplessly.

Eleonore heard a thin little voice from below, a squeal sounding so bitterly, but the word, the child said, stinged the woman's heart even more.

"Hurts..."

And that's when she saw his tiny face for the first time. Hazel eyes, full of fear and agony, met hers. The little one must be so scared and confused. Unfortunately, Eleonore didn't know what to do to help the boy. Losing his ability to fly has to be one of the most awful things for a little moth like him.

"I know, dear, but you're safe now", Eleonore reassured, hearing a few sniffles and sobs from the child, "Shhh, it's alright. Please, don't cry."

The woman was soothing and shushing the boy, while one of her fingers kept stroking his head. Soon, he calmed down a bit, steadying his breath. But the child still looked very pale and so unnaturally thin, almost emaciated. There was a stinging feeling in her chest and for a moment, Eleonore remembered when her son had been a little boy and barely ate anything as he was sick of fever. So she didn’t hesitate, went to the kitchen and came back with a pipette, a plate of leftover pie and a bowl of water, carefully placing it on the desk right beside the sewing pillow, the boy lay on. He was wiping away the dirt and tears on his face and Eleonore thought of giving him a good clean-up later on, too - very softly and carefully of course. But for now, the child needs to be fed.

She took the pipette with two fingers and brought it to the boy's lips. First, he backed off but Eleonore's veiny hand behind his back reassured the situation and a few drops of water flowed into his mouth, dripping down his throat pleasurably. Eleonore let out a relieved sigh when the child finally swallowed the water like a needy little bird baby getting some food from his mother. Not only because of his size but how he looked right now, so young and vulnerable, as if he would break if Eleonore just touched him.

The old woman put away the pipette again and broke off a crumb from the pie, helding it out to the boy. But the child turned away, shaking his head slightly and creased his forehead.

"Come on, dear, you have to eat something", Eleonore said softly, "you're only skin and bones."

She tried it once again and finally the boy opened his mouth and started eating. Although the crumb looked so tiny in her hand, it probably was enough for the child, considering he was literally tiny too, the old woman thought.

"That's fine, little one. Eat."

Eleonore couldn't help but draw a soft but sad smile when the moth cub ate it all up and big round eyes met her gaze. She always liked the feeling to see her grand-children enjoying the food she cooked for them. But that was so long ago... By now they sure all grew up and would never look up to her with those big children's eyes.

And this one was probably the first child in years that gave her the feeling to be needed. Because who needs an old frail granny nowadays?

A small squeak interrupted her thoughts in a sudden when she saw that the boy tried to move his body. He let out some helpless whimpers, probably in pain of his torn wing. Eleonore thought about fixing it in a way but didn't come up with any. It just had to be nature's way and the boy was way too weak and frail to survive on his own. Good thing was that there weren't any predators nearby when he was wounded. And if Eleonore hadn't heard him, the child probably didn't have a chance.

Pity flooded the old woman's heart at the sight of the crying boy. She reached out her hand towards the child that recoiled, still in fear. The boy didn't seem to trust her yet even after she fed him. But it was more than understandable and Eleonore couldn't blame him. Very very slowly she put her hand down on the desk next to the pillow and slightly shoved the child on her palm with the other free hand.

The boy gave a few further squeaks and whimpers when he lay on the giant palm. His tiny hands, feet and proportions fascinated Eleonore even more now and again, she was staggered by their extreme size difference. Though he was terrified, the woman took a bit of water out of a bowl and slowly poured it over the boy's head and back, while her thumb was brushing his tiny body for comfort and to get at least a bit off the dirt on his skin. The water seemed to cool his wounds, now that the child relaxed a bit in Eleonore's palm and seemingly enjoyed the procedure by closing his eyes and letting himself get cleaned.

After the 'bath' she patted him dry a bit with a washcloth and for once, she saw the freckles all over his skin, which were covered by dirt before and the little nose was no longer bloody. His hair was now clean too and a few light brown strands even shimmered in the light of the desk lamp.

By now it has gotten dark outside and a cold breeze blew through the opened window of her bedroom, making the child shiver a little bit, which Eleonore felt in her hand.

Well, his hair was still a bit wet and the cloth he wore also hasn't dried yet. The woman couldn't help but look down on him in compasion, when he curled up on her palm, rubbing his tiny arms.

"Are you a bit cold, huh? Well, it is a bit chilly outside tonight", she remarked and put the tiny one down on the sewing pillow again.

Eleonore stood up from the chair, feeling a twinge in her back and slowly went to the window to close it again. She really overworked herself today and deserved some good rest. But the thought of the little boy didn't leave her alone now. She felt responsible for the child because it didn't seem like he had anyone else. Maybe he is lost and his parents are searching for him in vain or he is orphaned and nobody will come look for him... Eleonore couldn't know what happened to the boy unless he is willing to tell her himself. For now the child only said a word and it was mostly the woman who was talking to him. Maybe someday he will eventually tell her his name, where he is from and how he got here in the first place but it still had time.

Luckily, she still had some scraps of soft fabric left over and took it from her sewing box. There was also a little piece that would fit perfectly for a new tiny top and little pants. Maybe she asks the kid tomorrow whether he wants some new clothes and this way, Eleonore would finally take all of her supplies out of the drawer, as she hasn't sewn anything for a while now.

The boy, curled up on the pillow like a kitten, eventually stopped shivering when the old woman pulled the makeshift blanket up to his chin, a finger stroking down his shoulders once more before she let the child sleep in peace.

Eleonore observed the tiny one for a while, before she stood up and would head to her bed too. Just when she had turned around and clicked off the light, she heard a soft mumble coming from the desk.

"Thank you."

And even though it was just these two words, it still was everything to her. Said so quietly and tired but meant so sincerely, it truly made Eleonore's heart soar. That night, for such a long time in her life, she no longer felt alone.

#g/t #giant/tiny #parental g/t #g/t writing #g/t fluff #g/t fiction #giant tiny #gt community #g/t community #original writing #original story #OC: Eleanore #OC: Corey #tiny whump #tiny whumpee #winged whumpee #whump writing

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pain-is-too-tired · 1 month ago

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Sunfae!Lee so fun in any version of the au because he's a sizeshifter.

Only reason Kronos is army can keep him from shifting to his common size is with imperial gold and celestial bronze cage and/or restraints.

Even then, he's a biter. Also part of why Luke's the only one who keeps an eye on him. No one else tolerates getting bitten by a smol menace of a fae prince. Lee draws blood for sure.

Luke gets annoyed sometimes, and they ends up having fights and such. But he's just too down bad for Lee to reprimand him for long.

He pouts cause Lee usually gives him the silent treatment.

Why Lee does act tough and defensive with his captors, he is legitimately scared of their situation. He'd be a fool not to be. Any fae knows being in their basic form is dangerous around those you don't trust 100%. Anytime some grabs them he's fully aware of the advantages they have. Kronos already took most of his siblings prior to their capture, they're only still alive because they're useful as well as being considered a "reward" to Luke for his loyalty.

Luke,however, really doesn't get it. He knows Lee use to let him hold him in his basic form all the time. He use to be comfortable being so small around Luke. And Luke really hasn't considered why Lee would be uncomfortable in his hands now.

Luke knows he likely could never bring himself to hurt Lee, even if order to, but to Lee? He doesn't know that.

He use to be sure Luke would never truly hurt him. But he also was sure Luke would never hurt any one. He doesn't trust Luke won't hurt him. That trust been broken.

So he's defensive. He's snappy. He bites. Because they honestly can't do much else. The hands that once held him so tenderly now are like a trap ready to crush them.

#mine #pjo #percy jackon and the olympians #percy jackson and the olympians #pain rambles #luke castellan #lee fletcher #leeluke #gt #g/t #sunfae!lee #tiny #I'm such a sucky for exploring stuff like this #signs of trust that comes with aspects of you that can be easily use to hurt you #letting someone near your wings. the freedom to the skies #to this.#letting someone practically holding your whole being in their hands #trusting them not to use their clear size advantage to hurt you #how scary that is to be at the hands of someone over 15 times your size #how even scarier when someone you once trusted betrays that trust #just. man #its so fun exploring that especially with Leeluke #Luke really can't wrap his head around why Lee thinks he'd hurt him #despite working for the guy who killed a huge chunk of Lee's siblings #get it together man #get it together

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