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gamerbearmira · 1 year ago

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You know, I always loved fairytales, and those episodes of TV shows where the characters are part of a fairytale or in a fairytale setting were always fun for me. A fairytale AU would be super cool, where the Madrigals are all royalty, and each Madrigal is the protagonist of a different fairytale.

Alma is the beauty from Beauty and the Beast, Pedro didn't die, he was cursed and ran away after an angry mob attacked him, he hides in a dark castle in order to protect his family from the angry mob and watches over his family from a distance, whether or not Alma knows what happened is up for debate.

Julieta is the princess from the Princess and the Frog, Agustin is the frog of course, that's why he's so clumsy, the story is basically the same as Julieta helps Agustin break his curse.

Pepa is the Snow Queen, after being bullied as a child for her weather powers, she shuts herself off from others until Felix, the Kai of the story, comes along, he can only sees the bad in the world due to a shard of the cursed mirror in his eye but doesn't see fault in Pepa's perfect snowflakes, Pepa falls in love and helps Felix's sister, the Gerda of the story, break the curse of the mirror shard.

Bruno is the protagonist of The Golden Goose, he wanders into the jungle to hide from bullies and offers some of the food he has on him to an old man, who guides him to the Golden Goose, as Bruno makes his way back home, many people try and steal feathers from the goose and end up getting stuck, they are only freed when Bruno comes home and his family ignores the goose as they embrace him, as he had been gone for hours and they had been worried.

Isabela is Sleeping Beauty, cursed at birth by an evil fairy to prick her finger and sleep forever unless she is given a kiss of true love, when she pricks her finger, everyone thinks Mariano can break the curse, but of course he isn't her true love, so it doesn't work, Julieta ends up being the one to break the curse with a forehead kiss.

Dolores is Cinderella, after Mariano discovers he isn't Isabela's true love, he holds a ball to try and find his true love, Alma is very embarrassed by what happened with Isabela and refuses to let any Madrigal attend, so Dolores has to sneak out with the help of her fairy godmother, when she leaves her shoe behind and Mariano starts looking for her, she ends up coming clean to her family and admitting her feelings for Mariano so she can try on the shoe.

Luisa is the princess from The Princess and the Pea, she gets lost in a different kingdom during a trip and seeks shelter at the kingdom's castle, the Queen doesn't believe Luisa is a real Princess due to her 'un-princess-ly stature' and gives her the pea test, the next day the rest of the Madrigals show up at the palace begging for help to find Luisa, Alma and Julieta give the Queen an earfull when they're told what happened, and poor Luisa is given a week off of chores to rest.

Camilo is Jack from Jack and the Beanstalk, he trades a piece of jewelry for the magic beans, he didn't really believe the beans were magical he just didn't like the jewelry he had and wanted to get rid of it, once the beanstalk grows, he climbs it out of curiosity and takes the opportunity to cause some mischief when he finds the giant, including stealing a goose that lays golden eggs and a harp that plays itself, needless to say he gets in massive trouble when he gets home and Alma returns the items to the giant with a sincere apology.

Mirabel is Little Red Riding Hood, Alma is visiting her family who lives on the other side of the jungle when she gets sick, since she's too sick to make the journey back home, Julieta sends Mirabel with a basket of food to help her get better, the 'wolf' she encounters is actually her Abuelo Pedro, still cursed, he keeps Mirabel safe on her journey and Mirabel is able to reunite Pedro and Alma.

Antonio is the Pied Piper of Hamelin, he uses his flute to help with a rat infestation and decides to keep the rats as pets, but when people start bullying him for having rats as pets, calling the rats disgusting and Antonio himself diseased, he releases the rats back into the town until they apologize, both to him and the rats.

I LOVE FAIRYTALES TOO!!! THEY’RE SO SILLY!!!

All of these are so cool and fit so well. Tbh I like Alma, Luisa, Mirabel, Antonio and Pepa’s. I mean all of them are so rad, but those have my heart‼️‼️ They’re all so unique and. Love how some of them tie into each other. And all of them fit so well with each of the Madrigals and that is just so cool tbh. Love seeing AUs like that. AND PEDRO MENTIONED 🗣️🗣️🗣️ YEAHHHHHH

Wanted to draw Alma and Pepa but didn’t :((((

LOVE THIS AU RAHHHHHH 🗣️🗣️🤠🤠🤠🤠🦅🦅🦅🦅

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rockybloo · 2 days ago

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I drew a new cover for Beanstalked's Chapter 3 and am recycling the current one(or OLD one in this case) for Chapter 4 since the next chapter has way more Pin and Jack interactions planned.

Fully explanation and old ass Rocky art under cut - and if you're new here and had no idea I had a webcomic, you can read it here

BASICALLY - Ch 3 took a turn in direction while I was thumbnailing because I realized that the cage keeping Pin trapped needed a lock or it wouldn't make sense why Pin couldn't get out. He's a smart fella - the original door from the original comic ain't gonna keep him contained.

Truth be told, Pin was meant to be freed just like in the original run and then we jumped right into the same events as before but with my current artstyle and a little more padding...however, I figured you can only redraw a webcomic once so you might as well make the most of it and I didn't want to look back later and go "wait that's dumb".

So instead of just updating the art of the original chapter, I shifted everything to give Jack and Oriana much more time to interact.

The original interaction between Jack and Oriana was so damn short and sloppily written. HELL EVEN HER REVEAL OF BEING A WHOLE FAIRY TRAPPED IN THE HARP WAS ONE SINGLE BUST PANEL

And he didn't even learn about his dad being Bookmarked until chapter 5 or 6. EVEN NEVERMORE WAS A LATE MENTION AND SHES THE MAIN ANTAGONIST!

THE LITERAL THREAT OF THE ENTIRE STORY SHOULD BE ESTABLISHED IN THE FIRST DAMN ARC - CHRIST HIGHSCHOOL ME YOU ABSOLUTE FOOL I forgive me tho because I was balancing a whole webcomic alongside school.

I am older now. And what's more important is that I am even MORE unhinged about this damn webcomic AND SO I SHALL BE GIVING IT THE LOVE AND ATTENTION IT DESERVES

Anyways yeah - I changed Chapter 3's cover and am going to use the original for the next chapter. That's about it...OH YEAH I also added titles to each chapter just to make each chapter feel more complete.

#rocky rambles #beanstalked

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giantologist · 1 year ago

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Hi Professor,

Do giants have stories/myths about humans like how we have Jack and the Beanstalk (not a great example but a widely known one)?

Before I answer, I must rant a little about that classic and oft-told tale of the brave little boy who climbed a magical plant and eventually slew the beast who dwelled within a castle of cloud.

I'd say it's rather far fetched, isn't it? This is actually one human tale that all giants know. Their version is of a family man who built his castle with his own hands, and who was tricked, robbed and murdered by a human boy, leaving a widow and a baby. From what I can tell, the beanstalk was added to make the story more fantastical, when in reality it was a rather large oak tree that the boy climbed in order to gain entry to the giant's home. The golden goose was merely a solid statue, that and the harp being family heirlooms. It does say a lot that such a tale has been twisted through the generations to fit the narrative of the brutish and man-eating beast that most people think of when they hear the word 'giant'.

But back to your question!

One tale I know is of the giant and the human king. A giant was an indentured servant to the king, chained and mistreated, he always obeyed and was promised his freedom 'after three more tasks' but the number never decreased no matter how many tasks he performed. The giant didn't get angry or hold ill will against the humans, as he knew that his size and strength made them fearful and they felt better with him in chains. Eventually the king got word of an uprising, as he was a vicious and vengeful ruler, and he ordered the giant to break the aqueduct to flood the lower part of the kingdom and drown all those opposing him. Only then would he unlock his shackles. The giant stood at the aqueduct, the crowds of revolutionaries on his left, the tyrant to his right. With one mighty blow he broke the aqueduct, the torrent of water rushing down and drowning the king, ending his iron rule. His act of mercy led to his freedom, the humans lauding him as a hero, no longer fearing his strength but praising his name for it.

I cannot find any evidence of that legend holding truth, although a handful of despots throughout history have been dispatched or deposed by helpful giants. That makes me think the tale is possibly a moral fable, one of kindness in the face of fear.

I would try to remember more legends but I am rather still fuming over Jack and The Beanstalk.

Professor J Finch

#queries

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gerbiloftriumph · 6 months ago

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Lost and Found (ao3):

Grandpa’s story of the goblin caves started out familiarly enough, but as he spoke, the story started to twist and change. New friends, new conversations, and new ways to use old items transformed the tale, and the young king discovered new ways to be brave in the dark tunnels beneath Daventry.

(5/?)

~*~

It took a long time for the goblins to come back to his cell to let him out the next day. For a couple hours, Graham paced nervously, worrying that the contraband shovel or the sword-frying-pan in Amaya’s cell had been the last straw. Worrying that someone had found Whisper. Worrying that someone had noticed him wandering around and thought it wasn’t right for a captive crown to get free reign of a prison. Worrying that every choice he’d ever made had been a mistake. But goblins eventually came, and this time they shoved a mop in his face and pointed to a slimy section of muddy floor.

(“Wonderful. Mopping up goop was now added to my set of prison chores.” Grandpa said.

“I’m not sure what a ‘mop’ is, but you can probably find something else for it to do.”

“You might be right about that. Let’s see.”)

Whisper was waiting for him at the top of the spiral staircase. “Goooood morning, King Graham!” he said cheerfully. He also had a huge bouquet of roses, tied with an orange ribbon he must have torn from his cloak. “Is today the day we find the beautiful Amaya?”

“Whisper, it’s dangerous for you to be wandering around out here.”

“Eh,” Whisper flapped his hand. “They adore me, you know. It’ll be fine. Come on, let’s get that big bull!” He hurried to the beanstalk, now fully grown thanks to the Hobblepots’ remarkable plant fertilizer potion.

Acorn peered over the ledge. “Hey, string bean! Man, I missed you last night. I don’t like the quiet; it’s awful up here alone. Would you help me down?”

“But the beanstalk is grown. Can’t you climb down?”

“Maybe unlike you I’ve read Jack and the Beanstalk. I know the giant falls off cos it breaks underneath him. I need someone to test it first. I ain’t doing it myself ‘til I know it’s safe.”

Graham scaled the beanstalk, little flowers crushing under his hands. They smelled like green and earth and life and made him think of the surface. He nearly slipped a few times, but it wasn’t nearly as bad as the time he’d climbed up to the clouds seeking one of Daventry’s missing treasures. At the top, Acorn sat trembling and holding onto a rock for dear life.

“King Graham! Buddy! I am so glad to see you!” Acorn let go of the rock and grabbed onto Graham, squeezing tight.

“Hey, it’s great to see you, Acorn. You okay? Ready to get out of here?”

“It will be an honor to have another adventure with you, Sire.”

Graham bit his lip, hiding a smile, and managed to nod at Acorn in a probably noble sort of way. “I concur,” he said, as seriously as he could, then the grin slipped free. It had been so long since they’d gone questing together.

Graham studied the narrow platform behind the knight. There was the duck, still glittering gold, and a bent wooden harp, also painted gold. And, delightfully, actual gold! A whole two coins, mixed with the giant’s treasures. Graham grabbed the coins, noting with vague relief they were both an older design with Edward printed on them, so he didn’t have to feel quite so guilty.

There was also a little box with a very flimsy looking padlock on it, and inside was: “Hey, my shovel! How did that get up here?”

“Turns out goblins can do this weird thing where they climb little narrow cracks,” Acorn said. “I watched them do it, they put their backs against the wall and crawl their way up. Really weird.”

And kind of familiar sounding…no. Graham shoved the thought away. Amaya had been right. Focus on the now, worry about the bigger stuff when there was time. “I guess they could have come up at any time to get their duck, but it wouldn’t have been story accurate without the beanstalk.” Stories, stories. It always came to stories, with the goblins. Hmm.

He bent to examine the padlock. Very cheap looking, the first one of its type he’d seen down here. “Locked shut. I bet it could be picked open, but too bad I don’t have a lock pick.” Although, those chopsticks the merchant was selling…it would put him one coin back from his black market goal, but. One step at a time.

Acorn inched a little closer to the beanstalk, then flinched back. “Actually, Graham, I think I changed my mind. I think you should leave me here. For, like, ever. I think that’d be best. We can stay pen pals.”

“Huh? Oh, the heights thing.”

“Yes, the heights thing,” Acorn growled.

“What’s taking you two so long?” Whisper yelled from the ground level. “Whisper wants to find Amaya! Hurry up!”

“Whisper, shush! You’ll get the goblins’ attention!”

“Whisper is using his whisper voice!”

“Fine. Oh! Wait!” Graham swirled his cloak. “Here, get in my cloak!”

“Can’t we go on a date before you start propositioning me?”

“No, gross. We figured this out yesterday. Come here.” He popped Acorn into his pocket, and the knight immediately started yelling in surprised protest. “Seriously? It’s very roomy in there. You’re fine.” Acorn felt no heavier than Whisper had, which was confusing, but nice.

Graham also gathered up the harp. He twanged the strings. It was not in tune, but he coaxed a very pathetic sounding “Greensleeves” out of it nevertheless, just to see if he could. He thought he could try to tune it, but the gold paint had probably ruined it completely, and it was still missing a string. Still. If it wasn’t nailed down…you never knew when you’d need a harp. He slipped it into another pocket.

He contemplated the duck. The duck contemplated him. He reached out to touch its glossy feathers. It pecked his hand. “Ow! Fine, never mind, sorry,” he muttered, shaking his hand.

At the bottom, Whisper was impatiently tapping his toe. “Let Whisper into your pockets too, we must find Amaya before Whisper’s flowers wilt!”

But immediately, the cloak pockets started to strain with two knights. He could sense the weight of it. He could walk, and nothing looked different per say, but there was a pull on the threads and on his shoulders that he wasn’t used to, and he sensed that the new weight would wear him down even faster than the normal cave experience was doing. This suddenly didn’t seem like a long term solution.

“I think it tops out at two,” he said, spinning in a circle. The cloak still fluttered normally, visually speaking, but the tug was odd, and he teetered on his heels, staggering a step.

Which was actually a bit of a relief. He’d been nervous about accidentally getting the entire Daventry River sucked into the fabric or something, but two humans maximum was okay. Still weird. But better. He wondered if his mom knew what she’d made. He'd have to ask her when he wrote his weekly dozen-page-long letter (ostensibly to practice his calligraphy for Royal Guard Number One’s approval, but mostly because he just liked to tell his family everything).

“Tops out at two, or does Acorn take up all the space?” Whisper said. His voice was very muffled and quiet, like he was speaking through layers of fabric.

“Are you callin’ me fat, speedy? You get over here, I’mma slim you down with my hands, give me even more room!”

Graham’s cloak fluttered as the two knights somehow tackled each other through the pockets. “Hey! Hey, stop!” Graham yelped. “That tickles! Stop! Quiet down, you two. Stop bickering! Don’t tear it!”

The fighting stopped, but he could still just barely make out irritated grumbling. “This stitchwork’s pretty impressive,” Acorn said, trying to soothe the bull with a distraction.

“Whisper thinks it could be comfier.”

“Hey, I used fabric softener,” Graham said. “And you fell asleep in there yesterday.”

~*~

“You’re lucky I’m old and stubborn. ‘Cause I’m gonna be gripping onto this life until you bring me some food. I ain’t dying on an empty stomach, King Boy.”

“I’m looking, I promise, Muriel.”

“Starving brings out the flavor in everything,” Chester added.

(Grandpa, you told me this part already. A couple nights ago.”

“I can skip it if you like.”)

The story proceeded as it had before, for a time. Graham worked to clear goblins from villager rooms. Slowly, he created distractions, or removed goblins entirely through force, with help from the villagers when possible. He rescued more coins, climbing a rickety chair to examine a trash heap, and finding another in a bucket near a pile of straw. He reluctantly exchanged one coin for the Merchant’s chopsticks, to fetch his shovel from the contraband box, and anything else he mistakenly lost in the nightly shakedowns, which still proceeded even if the goblins didn’t return to their posts once Graham or the villagers had scared their respective guards away.

“After Wente’s outburst, I think the goblins are afraid to guard this room,” Bramble said. “But at least those goblins won’t be keeping us up at night any more with their constant giggling.”

As the guards started to clear, he was able to let Whisper and Acorn out of his pockets during the day, which was a relief. The strain on his cloak had been making him nervous; he thought the pockets were beginning to tear with the weight of it all, and he didn’t have a way to repair it here. Carrying people long distances in it was likely out of the question, even knowing it topped out at two. Imagine if the pockets split and dumped out their occupants in front of a goblin horde.

Also, he wasn’t entirely sure how to get people into the pockets through prison bars, if it would even work that way. He thought he’d try it only as a last resort. Squeezing them, even in his cloak, to get them through those narrow cell bars sounded…unpleasant, somehow. If he accidentally hurt someone in the process, he’d never forgive himself. Surely there had to be another way…but trying to pick the prisoner padlocks with the chopsticks did absolutely nothing.

Whisper presented his bouquet of wilted roses to Amaya with glee. He slicked back his mane and posed dramatically. “What is a lovely lady like you, doing in a place like this?”

Amaya took the roses begrudgingly through the bars. “Funny, I was just about to ask you the same thing.”

“Ohh, but of course! I could escape on my own, you know, but now that you’re here I wouldn’t want to take that away from you.”

“What a gentleman, my hero,” Amaya said flatly.

“Ahh, yes, your hero. Yes, your hero is here! And what were your other two wishes?”

“That he’d be charming and handsome. I guess not all wishes come true. Also, you’ll notice I’m still in my cell, so as far as hero worship goes….”

“Right. Right.” He leaned back and said, in his loud whisper voice, “Graham? Fix this? Your pocket thingy?”

“I’m sorry, it’s too risky. I don’t have a way to get us out out, and I’m not sure about the cloak thing, either. If someone’s gone from a locked cell, the goblins’ll definitely notice. But. I’ll figure this out. I promise.”

“Figure it out faster.” Whisper glared.

“I’m trying!”

“Not trying hard enough!”

“I’m doing my best!”

“Make your best better!”

“I have my limits!”

“Boys, knock it off. You’re making my headache worse.”

~*~

The problem was the door. The individual cell doors holding each villager were problems, sure, but…. The big door, the door leading out into the goblins’ city, and Daventry beyond. That door. It needed at least two people pushing levers at the same time to loosen the latch, possibly more based on how much resistance it gave his and Whisper’s testing fingers. But, more importantly, it needed a key.

The lock on the door out was worse than the padlock that held his own cell door at night. Sturdier. And all the wishing in the world hadn’t loosened his own padlock. Nothing short of a miracle would budge this one.

A miracle, or a key.

“Where am I going to get a key?” Graham kicked a mushroom, which exploded around his metal-capped boot. It left a glowing trace behind him as he walked, his footsteps marked. He wandered down the spiral ramp as he gestured angrily. “I’m not. Simple as that. There’s nothing we can do.” He could possibly get people out of their cells with his pocket trick, maybe, assuming it didn’t hurt them to squeeze through bars in it, but they’d never get further than that even if it worked. Never get past that door, never actually manage to leave this goblin prison.

And getting caught with people in his pockets would just lead to Graham losing his cloak—and probably losing a lot more than that, too. He wasn’t likely to ever forget the tight ropes that had bound him on his way down here, and his prison break idea would lead to a lot worse for him if he didn’t have a step two. And he definitely did not have a step two. `

He wanted to scream.

He kicked another mushroom. The cap rolled off and bounced away into the shadows, like a deflated ball. It glowed weakly.

He slumped against the wall, glaring. He wouldn’t lose his temper, wouldn’t lose his composure, couldn’t. Couldn’t. Was a king. The king. Had to hold it together. Bramble would probably hear him from here if he snapped, and that would be the worst.

His head thumped back against the stones as he leaned back. Like if he could look through all this heavy stone to the Daventry sky it would be okay. His crown clanged dully, the spikes preventing him from looking up. Flustered, he grabbed the stupid thing off his head, out of his way, and he nearly threw it across the floor with impatience and frustration, but he caught a glimpse of himself in its reflection. He was grimy and sticky with cave dirt, but the crown remained glittery, even after this, gems winking in the dim light. He froze, staring at it. At himself. He’d been avoiding the little cracked mirror in his cell, hadn’t wanted to see himself, what this place was doing to him, but even in the crown he could see too much.

He sighed. “Long live the king,” he muttered, rubbing a thumb across it. Dirt smeared. “...who was kidnapped.” Gently, gently, he replaced the crown, the weight of it pressing his hair down.

He was exhausted, he was hurting, he was hungry. He was the king. He was supposed to have all the answers. Supposed to be able to take care of everyone. All his citizens. Himself.

It’s a puzzle, Graham, it’s always a puzzle. But this puzzle was missing pieces, and he knew it. Find a way out.

But how?

He realized his gaze had drifted to the mushroom he’d kicked, the little glow in the darkness. It cast strange shadows there, the glittery glow limning the rocks. Illuminating the space beyond.

Graham stiffened, crawled to the space. A loose rock. He jimmied it, rocked it gently, used the shovel to scrape a little dirt around it away, and felt it giving under his hands in a way the big escape door never did. He pushed it aside, and it scraped so loudly he felt sure every goblin in the entire underground was going to appear behind him, spears bristling. But he was alone. With his newfound dark tunnel.

His newfound very dark tunnel.

He stared at it, then: “Newton!” He scrambled up and ran for his cell, skidding across the damp floor and scooping up the little jar with the chirping salamander in it. “You’re a terrible book club partner,” he told the lizard sternly, then his face lit up with a grin. “But you’re about to make a really good lantern. Come on!”

He checked once more that the coast was clear, and then hurried back to his discovery. But then…then he paused, the big smile starting to fade. He held Newton out, the cool blue glow doing more than the mushroom ever could. Behind that loose rock was a deep crevice. Newton’s light only illuminated how deep it went. Graham had sort of assumed it would be shallow, a little divot in the wall hiding some prize. But this was bigger than he’d expected. Darker. A path, hardly more than a crack, really, that vanished into the gloom beyond the salamander’s glimmering light.

(“I’m not sure you should go down there,” Gwendolyn said.

“I wasn’t sure either, but if I stayed here, none of us would make it.”

“I guess that’s true.”

Grandpa and Gwendolyn watched the little mirror king. The light from the lantern shivered in the mirror king’s hands, gently shifting against his surroundings as he looked into the shadows, and the shadows watched back silently.)

“I wanted this,” Graham muttered. “I needed to find another road to explore. This is it. This is what I wanted.” But why did it have to feel so bleak? “I have to do this.”

And the king passed through the little crack in the wall, a salamander in his hands and his heart in his throat.

It wasn’t like the goblin prison was inviting. But this was instantly far worse, and Graham nearly spun around. The pressure of the rocks weighing him down never felt more obvious, the dead silence immediate and crushing. In the prison, it was never quiet. The soundscape was just different. You could always hear water dripping, or salamanders chirping, or goblins clattering around talking and laughing, or villagers speaking to each other in hushed, desperate voices.

But here, there was nothing but Graham’s hitched breathing and the sound his cloak made as it dragged across boulders. The wedge narrowed around his shoulders, pressing, and Graham struggled forward, free hand blindly scraping while he cradled Newton’s jar close with the other.

(“Grandpa? Maybe we should tell this part in the morning?”

“I’m afraid it wouldn’t get any lighter then, dearest.”)

Graham popped out of the crack with intense relief, glad the space didn’t remain so tight for very long, but the darkness around him here was somehow even worse for its unknown, unseen openness. He just had one little light, one little pool of cold blue, and though Newton was doing his best, the light barely penetrated the gloom. Maybe he wasn’t the best lantern on top of being not the best book club member.

“Hello?” Graham called, softly. Not sure he wanted a response, but he had to know if he was alone. The darkness seemed to breathe, but nothing replied.

He glanced over his shoulder—the crack hadn’t been that long. It had just felt worse when he was in it. But he could see the almost cheerful mushroom glow of the main prisons just a little way behind him. Easy. He could bear to go a little bit further, to see if there was something, anything, he could use. He had to try. He wouldn’t go far.

He stepped forward.

(“I don’t know about this,” Gwendolyn said, shrinking deeper into her blankets. Her hands were shaking, looking for something to grip onto. “Are you sure you want to go that way? It seems dark, and scary, and…and you don’t know what’s down there.”

“That may be so,” Grandpa said, and he reached out, gently taking Gwendolyn’s hand in his. “But in the end, everything will be okay.”

“But how can you know that? How can you just know everything will be okay?” Grandpa realized she wasn’t just talking about the caves, not now. The whole world was in that question, every shadow, every cry in the night.

“I don’t. None of us do. But I trusted that once I knew what I was up against, I could handle it. Are you ready to continue? I’m afraid it’s going to get a bit scarier before it gets better, so I’ll let you decide.”

She frowned at the mirror, at the little mirror king blindly feeling his way along the wall, glancing back periodically. “I should try to be brave like you. We have to keep going.”

“And so we shall.”)

Graham’s mouth was dry. He tried humming quietly to himself, tried to make the sucking darkness less awful, but it didn’t help. He inched forward, squinting, but nothing revealed itself beyond his tiny light. His hand pressed hard against the wall.

His next step was in empty air, and he fell.

#fic'ing #ch2 #that darn cloak can hold just as many plot holes as it can people so we'll just dance around it #it's a real 'why didn't the eagles help frodo' thing with a perfectly valid reason to it but just don't...think about it #lost and found

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mizusswordtip · 5 months ago

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Down The Rabbit Hole ⚝ Killian Jones x Reader (18)

find the story on wattpad

summary: Alice's plan to overthrow the Queen of Hearts is thwarted by a dashing pirate with a hook. Years later, after the curse is broken, they reunite once again.

masterlist

We'd been walking for what feels like hours when Hook, who's been leading us, calls out over his shoulder.

"Up ahead. We'll find the compass just over the ridge." I give him a nod to continue walking which he returns. Emma and Snow catch up to me.

"Do you get the feeling he's leading us exactly where Cora wants us? That this whole thing's a trap?" Snow whispers conspiratorially. I purse my lips, having been wondering the same thing the whole time. If she'd asked me yesterday, I would've jumped on that bandwagon without hesitation but... it doesn't make much sense.

"It's defiantly a trap." Emma concurs without hesitation.

"I'm not so sure." I murmer over my shoulder. Emma looks at me in disbelief.

"What? Don't tell me you trust him?" She asks, brows furrowed. Before I can answer she fires off another question. "How do you even know him?"

"He was in Wonderland. Cora forced him to blackmail me into leaving Wonderland." I explain shortly, not having time to get into the nitty gritty of the details.

"So why should we trust him?" Emma asks rhetorically with a suggestive raise of her brow.

"We shouldn't. But... I have a feeling that he's not loyal to Cora." I explain. Despite my own gripes with Hook (selfish, killer, pirate, thief) he doesn't strike me as someone who'd willingly align himself with Cora unless backed into a corner. Or maybe I'm just trying to see the good in him when there may be none. "But keep your guard up regardless." Hook comes to a stop at the tree line. I walk up to stand beside him and let out a heavy sigh at the sight in front of me. A giant beanstalk that reaches up to the clouds.

"Let me guess. The compass is up there?" I ask with a knowing look at Hook.

"Oh yeah." He answers, sending a sly smirk in my direction.

"So we climb?" I ask through an accepting sigh.

"It's not the climb you need to worry about. It's the giant at the top." He informs. I look at the others who look at the beanstalk with differing levels of concern. I take one last deep breath.

"Let's go then."

It only takes us another five minutes to reach the base of the beanstalk. Somehow, it looks even more daunting up close. I shield my eyes with my hand from the sun as I look up.

"It's a little freakier than I remember from the story." Emma comments.

"Reminds me of death." Mulan mutters to herself. My brows furrow.

"Encouraging." Snow snarks.

"A beanstalk reminds you of death?" I can't help but ask. Hook looks to all of us with a sarcastic smile.

"Well, your compass awaits. Shall we?" He asks with a wave of his arm.

"Wait. If these beans create...portals, why not just pick one and go home? Why the compass?" Emma asks.

"I imagine if there were beans, Cora would have used one already." I surmise with a shrug. Hook looks at me and smirks.

"Right you are love, there are no more. Whatever story you think you know is most certainly wrong." He tells Emma.

"There was a guy named Jack and a cow and something about evil giants with treasure and a golden goose." She explains poorly. What does a golden goose have to do with giants? Is the goose a gold color or is it literally gold? "Or harp." She mutters under her breath.

"Sounds like a lovely tale. But the truth's a little more gruesome. The giants grew the beans, but rather than use them for good, they used them to plunder all the lands. Jack and his men fought a terrible war, defeating all but one of the evil giants. The beans were destroyed by the giants as they died. If they couldn't have the magic, then nobody could. Certainly very bad form." Hook says. As he explains, the more this story sounds familiar to me. My father used to tell it to me when I was a little girl. I remember calling the giants 'villains' and my father correcting me. Told me that the victors get to tell the story, not necessarily the heros.

"Why doesn't anyone just go up and grow some more?" Emma asks.

"Because one giant survived. One that even Jack couldn't slay." I repeat my father's words. Hook nods at me in confirmation.

"And we'll have to get past him to..." He starts.

"The magic compass." I finish.

"Indeed. The treasure remains, and amongst it is the compass. Now it will guide us to your land. Cora has the means to open a portal with the wardrobe ashes, but she can't find your land without the compass. Once we get it, we steal the ashes from her, then we're on our way." I almost laugh. He makes it sound so easy. As if we can simply pickpocket the ashes off Cora.

"How do we know you're not just using us to get the compass for Cora?" Mulan asks suspiciously. He looks at her for a moment before turning his gaze to me.

"I already told you why." Comes his answer. His gaze is so intense, hard to look away from. There's something unspoken in his gaze that I can't read. I turn away from him to face the beanstalk.

"Then we better start climbing." I say, starting to head for the beanstalk when Hook's voice stops me.

"Right, so, I failed to mention that the giant enchanted the beanstalk to repel intruders." I stop and clench my jaw. I turn to look at him over my shoulder with an unimpressed look.

"So are we meant to fly up?" I ask sarcastically. He gives me an amused smile.

"No love. I've got a counter spell from Cora." He says, pointing to the cuff on his wrists before holding his bound hands out. "If you'd be so kind." I walk up to him with a sigh, taking the dagger out of my boot. I grab the ropes and cut them with little trouble. I make the mistake of looking up and seeing the soft expression on his face that I'm pretty sure I wasn't meant to see. "Thank you." He says, sounding genuine. What the hell is going on? It's hard to believe he's being genuine after what he's done to me and who he's working with. Could he actually be genuine? I turn away with a swift nod of my head. "I've got one more of these. Alice and one other can come along." My head snaps in his direction, breaking me out of my wandering thoughts.

"I thought you said you only had one other?" I ask. He points down to my sword.

"Yes but that sword you're holding wards off all magic so you don't need a fancy cuff." He explains. I sigh and then look to the others.

"You guys need to decide who then." I tell them with a sigh before turning my attention to the sky.

"Go on, fight it out. Don't be afraid to, you know, really get into it." Hook says sarcastically before turning his attention to me. "Afraid of heights?"

"No. I was imagining what it'd be like to fly." I say before looking over at him. My words are only half a lie. I'm not afraid of heights and I was thinking about what it'd be like to fly. My concern is over whether or not my body can handle the climb. Despite feeling a lot better than before, I'm still malnourished enough that passing out is a possibility. He looks like he wants to push further but simply nods his head, accepting.

"Ladies, in this world we are slaves to time, and ours is running out. In other words, tick tok." Hook says to the others. I look over to see Emma approaching, which doesn't surprise me. I give her a small smile that she returns as Hook places the cuff on her arm.

"I'm glad you're coming along." She tells me.

"Why's that?" I ask with a little laugh.

"Well if I trust anyone to kill a giant, it's the dragon slayer." She says with a raised brow and a smile.

"Actually, it's called a Jabberwocky." Hook corrects lightheartedly.

"That's not- not this time." I stumble over my words but he understands what I'm saying if his raised brows are anything to go by. I smile smugly before starting the climb up the beanstalk.

#killian jones #killian jones fic #killian jones smut #killian jones ouat #killian jones imagine #killian jones x oc #killian jones x reader #once upon a time #ouat #captain hook

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adarkrainbow · 10 months ago

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Let's go up the giant beanstalk (2)

I said before that “Jack and the Beanstalk” and “Jack the Giant-Killer” are two different tales that should not be confused with each other – but it does not mean they are not related… Indeed the link between those sibling-stories goes beyond simply sharing a giant-opposing Jack. There is a running tradition in Jack adaptations and pantomimes to name the giant “Blunderbore” – which is actually one of the giants of “Jack the Giant-Killer” – and while this seems to have no root in any of the published texts above… the first printed version of the tale, the “Jack Spriggins” parody, did name the giant using a character from “Jack the Giant-Killer”. Though it was not “Blunderbore” – the Jack Spriggins tale rather names the giant “Gogmagog”.

If things were not confusing enough, the giant of “Jack and the beanstalk” is known for his iconic line, “Fee-fi-fo-fum, I smell the bones of an Englishman.” (It is the Jacobs’ version of the rhyme, which continues, with other rhymes saying how the giant will grind Jack’s bones to make his bread). Well, this line is ALSO present within “Jack the Giant-Killer”, but rather sung by a giant named Thunderdell. “Fee, fau, fum (or alternatively “Fe, fi, fo, fum”) / I smell the blood of an English man” – again, continued by rhymes evoking a bread made out of human bones. This line, “Fee, fi, fo, fum”, has in itself a fascinating history because, as with many British fairytales, we can find an old manifestation of it… within Shakespeare’s plays. More precisely, in Shakespeare’s famous tragedy “King Lear”, we find the lines “Fie, foh and fum / I smell the blood of a British man”. This line comes from the very end of the fourth scene of Act III, where the character of Edgar pretends to be a madman by the name of Tom, and thus speaks in mysterious references and nonsensical riddles, and when he quotes this line, he does not do it in reference to any Jack tale… But rather by mixing it to the famous British story of “Childe Rowland”. The actual quote by Edgar/Tom is “Childe Roland to the dark tower came. / His word was still ‘Fie, foh and fum, / I smell the blood of a British man’.” It is very likely to be a comical mix-up of various folktales together, since the line is not traditionally linked to the Childe Roland tale – but it is extremely interesting, because it explains the first word of the seemingly nonsensical rhyme. Indeed, the “Fe/Fee” of later Jack tales is here a “Fie”, aka the archaic onomatopoeia of disapproval, and one that Shakespeare loved to use. As such, it is possible that the original first word of the rhyme was a “fie”…

Mind you, there is an even older record of the line: it first appears in 1596, under the pen of Thomas Nashe, in his pamphlet “Haue with you to Saffron-Walden” (it was part of a series of attacks he wrote against the writer Gabriel Harvey). It is where the line first appears, under the shape of “Fy, fa and fum, / I smell the blood of an Englishman”, but within the same pamphlet, the rhyme is described as being very old, so old in fact its origin has been lost to time…

There is a lot to say about “Jack and the Beanstalk”, but for now I will highlight a final element that participates in weaving this tale in the tapestry of British folklore: the goose. In the version we all know and share, Jack steals three things from the giant. Money, a magical harp that plays on its own, and a goose that lays eggs made of gold. The goose with golden eggs actually dates back to one of the oldest collections of fables we have: Aesop’s fables written in Ancient Greece, by the seventh or sixth century BCE. One of those fables is titled “The Goose that Laid the Golden Eggs”. In France, it was re-popularized by Jean de La Fontaine’s own collection of fables, which had a modernized version of the story, “La poule aux oeufs d’or”, “The hen with gold-eggs”. But it is from Aesop’s fable that came the European symbol of the “goose with golden eggs”, and various sayings and proverbs such as “Do not kill the goose that lays the golden egg”, which itself was then recut and reshaped into various other proverbs (such as “killing the goose” for a self-destructive action). If you do not know, the fable always end up the same way, though the reasons behind differ – the owner(s) of the goose that lays golden eggs end up killing it due to their greed and desire to have more gold, thus destroying the very source of money they relied upon.

But where the “golden-egged goose” link becomes interesting is within the domain of nursery rhymes. I made a LONG time ago a series of posts about “Mother Goose” (they were in fact my very first posts on this blog). Long story short, Mother Goose did not exist in England until the second half of the 18th century. Indeed, she became known to the English world thanks to the translations in English of Charles Perrault’s fairy tale collections “Les contes de ma Mère l’Oye”, “The tales of my Mother Goose”, in the early 18th century. But from the mid 18th century onwards, publishers of nursery rhymes and other children-aimed books started using “Mother Goose” as a sort of mascot, recurring figure or title-cliché, in reference to Charles Perrault’s fairytale book. As such, soon Mother Goose started becoming a British “emblem” or “symbol” of nursery rhymes as a whole, seen as “Mother Goose’s rhymes”. England invented an entire character based on this single name – and by the early 19th century, she even got her own nursery rhyme/pantomimes (the two were always closely linked and I do not have enough expertise to go into the details). The “rhyme” of Mother Goose was not notably known under the title… “Mother Goose, or the Golden Egg”/ “Old Mother Goose and the Golden Egg”. Because to the character of Mother Goose, “mascot” of fairy tales and nursery rhymes, was added the fable of the Goose that Laid Golden Eggs… And in the nursery rhyme and the pantomimes, who is the third character that makes the link between the mother and the egg-layer? Mother Goose’s son… Jack. Yes, another Jack linked to a mother figure and who ends up with a goose laying golden-eggs – though no giant appears in this version, as this Jack is rather inspired by the various Jacks of nursery rhymes (or so I heard, again, I am no expert on the topic).

As you can see, from one simple story we enter a maze of references, links and cultural inter-weaving tying together a lot of various domains…

#jack and the beanstalk #jack tales #jack the giant-killer #shakespeare #fairytales in shakespeare #british fairytales #english fairy tales #the goose that laid golden eggs #the goose with golden eggs #fables #giants #childe roland #childe rowland #mother goose #nursery rhymes

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