#giaunt

[lasthail]

Well, this was terribly awkward, and more than that, bizarre. He'd never been accused of being an illusion before. Ingvar looked down at his boots as though to check he was in fact still standing upon the ground and present in reality (he was) and then he looked to the stranger who likely could not so much as reach his knee if he were to strain himself in the attempt. And yet the giant didn't respond immediately. How could he, considering the frightfulness of that truth to any human with a working sense of preservation of his own life? "I-- I am... I am no mirage, nay," he at last responded in a hush, shaking his head. The gesture sent curtains of dark hair sweeping across and spilling off his shoulders, then back again. "I am being as real as you are being."

so  ,      there’s  a  giant  person  standing  in  front  of  him  …  taller  than  any  person  he’s  ever  seen  before  .      he’s  not  sure  whether  to  even  call  him  human  or  something  else  ,      on  account  of  his  huge  size  .      ‘  titan  ’  doesn’t  really  seem  like  a  nice  term  to  use  ,      even  if  he  doesn’t  mean  it  with  malice  .      grace  can  see  ,      he  can  hear  ,      even  his  skin  can  detect  the  proximity  of  this  large  person  ,      which  very  much  means  he’s  here  .      senses  are  mostly  unreliable  ,      but  this  has  got  to  be  true  .      it’s  gotta  be  ,      or  else  he’s  somehow  going  crazy  ,      and  this  is  the  first  sign  of  it  .      all  these  years  of  study  amounting  to  what  ,      a  trip  to  four  white  walls  and  an  orange  jumpsuit  ?

there’s  also  no  mathematical  way  someone  like  this  should  exist  .      he’s  all  for  being  welcoming  and  understanding            the  golden  rule  ,      treat  others  the  way  you  want  to  be  treated  ,      things  like  that            but  the  latter  is  tough  .      it’s  tough  .      it’s  not  possible  .      the  cells  of  which  a  human  body  consists  only  has  the  means  to  create  a  human-sized  body  ;      anything  else  would  be  considered  a  mutation  ,      and  most  mutations  of  massive  proportions  are  fatal  .      like  cancer  ,      or  gigantism  .      is  his  pituitary  gland  overactive  ,      grace  wonders  ?      does  he  even  have  a  pituitary  gland  ?

❝      you  see  me  ,      i  see  you  .      we’re  talking  .        ❞      they’re  talking  .      it’s  somewhere  they’re  getting  ,      only  grace  doesn’t  know  quite  where  yet  .        ❝      so  you’re  real  .      but  how  ?        ❞

 ݁ ˖ִ ࣪ ㅤ*ㅤYEAH .  /   𝚊𝚕𝚠𝚊𝚢𝚜  𝚊𝚌𝚌𝚎𝚙𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 .

[reedraws]

Ingvar and Hilda for the incredible @giaunt, who is a great pal and a wonderful writer! Thank you so much for letting me draw them yet again! I wonder what Hilda's talking about?

❀ Comissions / Ko-Fi / Store / Bsky

[ingenieurlumina]

random dialogue from a book : The books of Earthsea: Ursula K. Le Guin for @giaunt

Gustave is well familiar with the mysteries of the world, before he was old enough to explore out on his own, he read and studied religiously, so deeply curious about the world around himself that he couldn't bear to not study it. Emma had been the diplomat, the one far more suited to being a queen, moreso than Gustave could ever hope to be. But the forest he finds himself in was unfamiliar - one he's never seen before. it reminds him of the ones in his oldest books, ancient and full of magic that hadn't been seen in years. Full of beings that the world outside had long since forgotten, or assumed were long since gone and dead.

The sight of a giant was terrifying at first - tall like the walls of his home - the walls of Lumiére's castle. Larger than even the trees above him, their branches spanning wide and strong. Gustave looks up at him - natural scientific curiosity overwriting any fear he might have had, unable to be really frightened in the wake of seeing a real live giant in the flesh. "A giant? Incredible. I thought they'd all been kill- ah, no. I'm sorry, how terribly, rudely insensitive of me." Gustave shakes his head, another level of the prince's clumsiness that made him horrible as a potential king.

The giants had been killed out of fear, fear of their size, of what they could do. What could happen to the fragile kingdoms of man - in their early stages of growth. And it was stupid, the ego of men, their pathetic inability to accept anything that was different than themselves.

"Fear," he said. "What are we so afraid of? Why do we let 'em tell us we're afraid? What is it they're afraid of?" Gustave knew the answer, it was clear in the stories, their accounts and their records. No matter how they tried to frame it, they did so because they were cowards.

[audaciious]

📐 + Ingvar, assuming I never sent this before 😭

Send 📐 + your character's height to compare with one or more of mine!

LITERALLY AN ANKLE BITER.

But that means she can recline in his hand while she talks his ear off.

[w84me]

It had happened, innocently, over breakfast. Stanford Pines is the talk of the town, it's citizens seeming excited to welcome a new face, and not just any new face; a young scientist, they say, in little Gravity Falls, Oregon. He'd been at the diner, investigating the whereabouts of 'thieving gnomes with a craving for pie', when he overhead two people in the booth behind him talking about a 'giant man who lurked on the horizon and watched them when they slept.'

Of course, he turned around and asked them what they meant. The two of them recounted a tale of a hike through the woods to the top of the hill, where they saw it; a man, they said, a hundred feet tall, watching them from the skyline. They even managed to provide a blurry picture that didn't really serve as proof of much, but Stanford took it anyway.

They didn't hesitate to share every detail and excitedly, too. They asked him if he'd bring them a lock of his hair back as proof that he'd slain it, but Stanford shook his head; he had no interest in killing such a remarkable creature if it was real. Their disappointment was promptly ignored when he told them he'd come here to study the weirdness, not put a stop to it.

He spent the next few days preparing for his trip, gathering the necessary materials and provisions to make the hike, draw in his journal, and even shake hands or... fingers with this man. Fiddleford had declined to go, to his dismay, so it was just him, his journal, and everything he could carry on his back.

And everything had gone well until he'd come across a beastly creature he'd never encountered before and didn't have the wherewithal to stop. It turned on him, eyes wide with primal hunger, and his shriek echoed throughout the woods when it pounced, biting painfully onto his leg and not letting go. He fell hard into the dirt, kicking his heel uselessly at its face, thinking, "God, I can't die like this! There's too much left to do!"

Plotted starter for @giaunt

[lonelyoutcasts-rp]

"I would have much preferred our first encounter to be being under more pleasant circumstances." (Ingvar, for Lori?)

Lori looked at Ingvar with an awkward smile with a hint of distress to it as she nodded in agreement,” you can say that again…getting lost in the woods is by no means a good way to meet someone…” she admitted softly with a slight stutter.

“But at least…neither of us are alone. Being alone especially in this forest is never a good idea. I have heard rumors. Gods know if they’re true…but you can’t be too careful,” she added in a ramble due to her anxiety as she frantically looked around as if double checking to make sure that her hopes were correct.

“And I have a dagger….do you have a dagger or something to defend yourself right..?” She asked in a whisper as she glanced back at the other.

[houseflyy]

@giaunt asked:

“ Is something bothering you? ” (-Ingvar)

questions only sentence starters

Melody wouldn’t keep still. No matter where she perched, eventually she would jump back into flight and look for someplace else to rest. Sometimes she cried out in surprise; other times she groaned.

That, combined with the incessant buzzing of her wings, made for a surprising racket for someone her size—enough for Ingvar to notice.

“There are so, so many birds around here,” Melody called out. For the moment, she ventured to an empty branch high in the canopy of a tree to speak with him. “On the ground, in the bushes and the trees, and—look! There’s some right on you!”

Five sparrows, who themselves looked the size of bugs as they hopped along his shoulder and poked their beaks at his tunic.

“Uh. They don’t bother you?”

[southrnweed]

a forest trail choked with fog before sunrise. (-Ingvar, if this is ok for me to send! Please feel free to delete it it is not)

There was something beautiful about nature in the crisp, early hours of the morning. It was peaceful and unsettling all at the same time. Liminal, he thought. A fog-ridden trail just before the sun began to touch at the horizon felt otherworldly and removed from the present reality.

Thistle bit down on his cigarette, pressed it between his lips as he hoisted himself up over a pair of fallen trees that had embraced there in the middle of the path. Once his feet touched down on the other side, he plucked it free and exhaled his plume of smoke.

He didn't often find himself in the heart of nature outside of work, but it wasn't completely beyond him. He was in fact capable of being sucked into the great outdoors just for the leisure of it all and not just because he was stomping after some monster or fuckass human monster parading around as one.

Truthfully, he hadn't a fucking idea where he was. But that was normal. When he let nature have at him, he tended to just let it sweep him along where it would and it typically spat him back out when he was either no longer welcomed or he had otherwise had his fill of it. It was just one of those quirky happenings that surrounded him that he neither acknowledged or put much thought into. But usually Thistle simply began to walk and ended up where the woods wanted him to be.

It was somewhere that hadn't seen the touch of modern man, that was for sure. No real discernable trails that would imply frequent footfalls of hikers, no markings or any real evidence of man at all. But it was peaceful enough and Thistle was more than happy to leave it just as it was.

The fog was thick, so much to the point that it made the trees even in the near distance look like shadowed shapes as if someone had stamped them there with ink. The moisture clung to his skin and chilled him in the early hours of the day. Thistle rounded a bend and stopped, his reaction delayed to the point he simply... stood there.

Something large. Something humanoid. Shrouded in fog but undoubtedly NOT a tree. The Southerner squinted, sniffed in a non committal way, and made a glance for his cigarette between his fingers as if trying to discern if he had somehow grabbed up something else, something a bit more wacky in substance. He drew in a breath and sighed, an action that screamed: 'Whelp. Alright. This is happening, I guess.'

❝ You real or nah? ❞ No one ever said Thistle was always the brightest flower in the field, but no one could say he didn't consider all angles, no one could ever say he wasn't a good problem-solver who attacked a situation immediately; he didn't often freeze, for better or worse. Whether this figure was hostile or not, it was there and there was a very small chance Thistle himself hadn't been noticed already. Seemed most logical to at least attempt the docile route if only to see if the option was at all on the table.

➛ RANDOM SETTINGS