Everything About This Is An Immediate Yes I Love Fearplay Like This Sixicidid

Everything about this is an immediate yes I love fearplay like this sixicidid

Gotta love me some fearplay AND hand loom

THIS^^ JUST YES.

Recently i had a gt concept in mind and i had the duty to draw it

Basically, the story is about a mute girl who meet the giant of the forest near her village. Everyone in her village have told her how evil and dangerous the giant was, but it turns out she's really good at knowing people's will and she see that, inside him, he doesn't really want to hurt humans and that he is very lonely since no one come to visit him.

After that, she decided to stay with him as much as she can as the giant reminds her how risky it is for her to stay with him.

LATER :

Voilà

Spoiler : at the end they become friends-

The ART. The ANGST 🤌🤌 I love this so much

Hand Held 1.2

What if Kristine made a scrambling run for it? Turning around, forcing herself up, her feet trying to gain traction. The urgent need to book it pumping through her.

The “Hand Held” series is loosely tied together, but can be enjoyed by itself. I have always enjoyed the challenge of trying to capture so many different emotions of that first touch/grab/pickup.

Is this massive hand belonging to a friend? Or to a foe? Or to your OC??? Once again I invite you to (SFW) interact and interpret freely. Comment, Reblog, draw, write, DM, I LOVED all the creativity from the previous post. Thank you for the fun! Much love G/T Community.

Here are links to …

Hand Held 1 (originally titled “Nearly Touching” back in 2011)

Hand Held 1.1

So much plans for my stories and future oneshots this summer. My exams start next week and end the 28th, so you can start expecting stuff from them on!! :)

I'll also be free to start roleplaying and continue roleplaying then! (An apology to all my roleplayers thank you so much for your patience. I promise I'll get to it as soon as I can <3)

Also a little update, I turned 18 a week and a half ago! So that's new I guess haha anyways- I'll be back soon!

I'm still working on Of Sinners and saints and will be making another part/ more parts for it. But I had an idea for a story and it got me in the mood for writing.

Trigger warnings!: c*tting, violence, child abuse, cursing.

The story will tone down alot more as it is found family trope a few parts I post here and there will be dark but I will always specify which ones <3

The winner takes it all

It was a kill or be killed world.

Or at last it had been.

The only way to make it in society now was to be chosen. And the only way to be chosen to outperform everyone else.

The rest of humanity seemed to live in poverty, amongst the slimes and slums of the Decker. Famine spewed and violence cried. Murders, thievery, kidnapping, and the rest all the same. The very dregs of society. Looked down on with disdain from the wealthy upper class.

Or as everyone else knew them from down in the Decker, the Giants.

But amongst the dark civilisation of the underground world lay a small spark to any family that had been fortunate enough to bare a child.

A ticket to glory. A ticket to freedom.

A ticket to a new life.

Any child of the age 13 was eligible to compete.

Children of any age or gender all put to the test in a deep carefully carved and extreme competition.

Most died. Those that didn’t however stood a chance at being ‘selected’

These trials showed off each and every child, as Giants watched on with keen interest.

If a Giant selected a child, not only would they be brought into a new life of luxury but their families too.

That chosen child would then be trained by the Giant and pushed into as many competitions as said Giant saw fit.

The brutal competition didn’t have to much rules to it, but out of the few that it obtained one stood out amongst the rest.

A child could only enter once. Should they fail, there is no second chance.

Yes many died. But not just at the peril of the competition, no, the losers where what brought a large death toll, as they would most likely be killed at the hands of their own parents.

Some out of anger. Most without a choice. It cost a good sum to live under a roof in the Decker, disgrace as it was, and with poverty growing most could barely afford a house for themselves, never mind a child.

Children did not know happiness in this world. They were merely tickets to a new one.

A ticket or not, Eleanor Tarabel would give everything to win.

That she was sure of.

—

The bell tower of the undercity chimed it’s song a painful six times. And from her perch in her small window, Eleanor watched the Decker slowly wake up.

Daylight lamps replaced those of the ‘Night’ fabricating a sun cycle for the dwelling underground.

Windows opened, people left their houses, merchants barked from their stalls proclaiming their valuables. Lines for rations began to brew.

Beggars curled amongst the streets arose, cup in hand prepared for another day. Noise grew, chatter, splashes of water being throw from windows down to the drainage basins, liquids of all kinds sank down the most common and notable color being a washed crimson red.

The little girl turned from her place, hopping down into the contrasting quiet of her room.

She knew what day it was. She knew it’s importance.

She slipped into her bland day clothing and exited her room, passing a calendar of sorts marking the days according to the sun and moon's cycle.

Tuesday 24th

‘13’

Entering the corridor she collided with an unknown man, a client to be sure.

He sneered down at her

“Keep your child on a short leash, Mags.” He said, pushing past the small girl sending her into the wall.

Her mother, Margaret Tarabel, came out to sulk by her bedroom door, sending creaks and moans through the cracked wall, hair in tangles with her usual cigarette in hand, draped in a robe of sorts.

In a husky voice and a drag, she puffed smoke out into the child’s face the smell of nicotine protruding the air, she spoke in a slow chastising tone

“Honey,” she coughed violently, small specks of blood dribbled at her lip “what did I say about irritating clients?”

Eleanor dipped her head and posture

“forgive me sir”

The man didn’t dignify her with a response, simply huffing and tying his shoes, grabbing his coat and reaching for the handle

Her mother livened up, if you could even call it that, her dark eyes laden with coat over coat of seeping makeup creeped to life.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

“Leaving Mags. I have a job, more honorable than your shameful business”

Margaret did take kindly to his reply and in a hoarse snap she replied storming over, grabbing him by the shoulders

“Not without my money”

With a snort “for that service? That’s the worst I’ve had by far. But hey, you’ll only need to pay for one person under your roof pretty soon, ain’t that right cupcake?”

He gave an ugly wink in Eleanors direction

“Fuck you, you slimy rodent! Out of my house now.”

The man was pushed out into the streets as he spat and walked away.

“Rich coming from you, slut.”

Throwing her cigarette which only fell sadly to the floor dissipating in the drain she slammed the door and turned to her daughter.

“Don’t you mind him. Soon we’ll be comfortable out of this city. Isn’t that right my sweet?”

Eleanor was not in any means a stupid girl. It was clear to her that the only reason her mother truly cared- if you could call this caring- was for her own skin.

But if Eleanor won, she would never have to see her mother or any of her rotten clients again, never have to bare the butt of another cigarette, or random outburst or pour another pissy excuse for whiskey.

She hated her life. But she hated her mother more.

“Excuse me mother. I need to get to the arena.”

Her mother sighed and moved out of her way “maybe those Giants can teach you a little respect too.”

—

Sliding through the alleys, she made her way through the training grounds, careful to blend in, if she was quick enough she would avoid-

With a sharp kick Eleanor collided with the cobblestone, her rags soaking up the drainages contents leaving an unpleasant smell.

“Going somewhere El?”

She gagged at the smell turning to the voice.

Rodney Sterling. Katherina Vice. Desmond Fitzgerald. Lavender Maxwell.

Lavender stood over her with a snide smirk. As Katherine and Rodney pulled her up.

Lavender pulled out something brown from her pocket.

With a flick a blade came out.

Eleanors eyes widened. Lavender sensed this

“real silver would you believe it? Daddy had it made for me for next Saturday. But I figured, with that being so to long of a wait I’d test it out on my favourite little rodent.”

Eleanor gasped springing to life with immediate struggle, stepping harshly on Rodneys new shoes and punching Katherine earning an outcry from the two, racing past as quick as she could only for Lavender to grab her by the jacket sending a swift punch to her nose.

She giggled, twisting her blade, slicing her blade across Eleanors left arm.

Maxwell admired her work and Margaret’s scabbing circles that burned into her skin. “I see Mommy’s latest addiction is suiting you well, or was this from one of her fuck buddies?”

Rodney and Katherine gave a slithery snicker,

“See you at the Training grounds, if you even make it that far”

Lavender turned away, her clique in tow. Desmond drifted behind, eyes offering a speck of sympathy, turning back to his group and hurrying after them.

Eleanor sniffled, and gripped her arm closely. The dirty sewage had had seeped into her wound and she cried softly holding it close.

Drying her eyes she caught sight of the crowds forming by a nearby banner

‘NAMES AND REGISTRATION- THE SELECTING TRIALS. SATURDAY 5th’

She could do this. She had to

Whenever I see the Stanley Parable Narrator being depicted as a giant or at least having some sort of drastic size difference to Stanley it makes my g/t heart so happy istg.

Been experimenting with more lighting stuff, just hope I'm doing it right because this took actual hours. I'm really happy with it so I think it was worth the risks.

Also you get height difference because that makes everything better. :3