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mk-wizard · 3 months

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Top 10 Media that would benefit from spinoffs

After doing my last article, it got me thinking about specific lore I didn't put on the list because most of it is good the way it is, BUT that doesn't mean the lore should not be expanded. Note that there is a difference between a spinoff and a prequel or sequel. A spinoff is a story that takes place in the same universe as the main story of a media, but it is independent from the main story. It is it's own thing with its own unique set of characters with their own arc kind of like Star Wars Rebels, The Bad Batch, Family Matters, Picard and the video game Alien Isolation. Sometimes, they can happen before, during or after the main story, but they are still independent from it. The great thing about them also is that they keep lore alive without breaking it (most of the time) and even if they fail, it's no big deal because the main story still remains intact.

Note that there are spoilers ahead and I will not count media that already has spinoffs like Resident Evil, Jurassic Park, Robocop, Terminator, The Walking Dead, Star Wars, most Marvel media and anything else that has side stories. Anyway, onto the list.

1- The Brendan Fraser Mummy featuring anyone BUT the O'Connell's - I think the third film should be retconned and reinvented as a spinoff. In fact, I could think of so many spinoff ideas for this series because there are so many mummies to unearth out there and they don't even have to come from Egypt which is pretty cool. While I think the O'Connell family's finished after the second film, you can still do things with Jonathan Carnahan (Evelyn O'Connell's brother), the Medjai or just use new characters entirely. Plus, you can still do it now. I say we go for it! By the way, I know people think the Scorpion King is a spinoff series, but actually, it is a prequel at best and it failed because it had no mummies. And yes, that matters. The franchise is literally called "The Mummy", so it needs to have a mummy.

2- The Fresh Prince of Bel-Air featuring Hilary and Ashley Banks - I think this series could have benefitted from a spinoff featuring the secondary characters. Specifically, Hilary and Ashley who went on to become roommates in the last episode. The Banks sisters are very underrated as characters as is their dynamic because those few times we did see the two of them together, they played well off each other. Plus, in times where Ashley really needed her, Hilary was a good big sister. I think a spinoff sitcom featuring Hilary and Ashley's new life together while also building up their lives as grown women would have been great to see and maybe, we can still see how it all worked out.

3- Sailor Moon spinoff featuring Sailor Chibi Moon - I love Sailor Moon, but while I am one of those fans who believe it should have ended with season 3, that doesn't mean the lore should have ended altogether there. I think they had the right idea about making stories where Chibiusa was the focus, but they should have taken the plunge even deeper. I think Sailor Chibi Moon should get her own spinoff series where she is saving the Earth while standing on her own two feet without being in her mother's shadow. I would even age her up a little. Now, hear me out. This is NOT a sequel series, but a spinoff still because it is not featuring the main original cast. This is a secondary character with her own team. It is a new Sailor Moon and a new story which I think still has potential.

4- Lord of the Rings spinoff exploring the stories of the secondary and tertiary characters and more - Ok, Rings of Power was a dud, but the idea of exploring the stories in this lore is not a bad idea. Did you know that there are entire areas in Middle Earth that mirror Asia, Africa and more? I would love to see a spinoff that explores what was going on in those parts of the world or seeing the tragic story of what happened to the dwarves in the Mines of Moria kind of like how Star Wars did Rogue One. Or a spinoff series telling the story of Gollum and his descent into villainy. With the right team and creators, you can make the LotR lore into a much bigger world.

5- Disney's Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs spinoff featuring only the Dwarfs - Disney was onto something when it gave Aladdin and the Little Mermaid their own spinoff TV series that explored the lore and worlds afterwards. To be honest, I think they should do the same thing with the dwarves of Snow White. After all, the dwarves themselves are heroic, entertaining and beloved by fans. Plus, considering that the story is German, it would be very interesting to make use of German lore. It could be fun and great for kids while also appealing to adults. I mean, look at how great the spinoff media featuring Tinkerbell and the fairies was.

6- Dead Island spinoff featuring side stories - Like Resident Evil, Silent Hill and many other horror genre games, this franchise would have benefitted from having spinoff media because it did have the good bones to make some. In a zombie outbreak, you can make so many stories featuring random people trying to survive. The only condition here is that it has to happen on an island which within itself is doable because there are many tropical islands. Or perhaps an artificial island like a rig or a secret one with labs. This is one of the greatest franchises and the most it has is one DLC and a franchise we waited too long for. It deserves more.

7- Dying Light spinoff featuring original side pieces - Like Dead Island, this game had many stories happening in the background, but we didn't get to see them. Also, it only has a DLC and a single sequel. I would love to see more side stories that fill in missing gaps and feature fan favourite secondary characters. Or even new characters we can relate to.

8- King of the Hill spinoff featuring Luanne's family - King of the Hill is one of the best animated sitcoms that was adult without being dark or mean spirited yet at the same time, funny without being silly or over the top. It also had an amazing cast of characters that grew into their own namely Luanne who eventually married and had a child. Her story is compelling enough as it is as she went from coming from a broken home with abuse, alcoholism and worse, to creating a loving family of her own. She's a survivor who came out on the other side without being broken thanks to extended family. Speaking of which, I admit it would not be the same without the original voice actress (rest her soul), but the character herself is relevant especially because in many ways, Luanne mirrors Hank. I think she and her family would be awesome to see in their own warm hearted and funny sitcom.

9- Team Fortress 2 spinoff media featuring the Medic - It is no secret that the Medic is quite possibly the very best part of the game. Yet he is also the most sidelined for some reason. I think the Medic deserves his day not just as a member of the team, but in the spotlight in any media frankly. It can be his own comic, his own show, his own movie or even his own game. The Medic has shown time and time again that he is not to be underestimated. I can think of 101 stories to write about him alone though the one that most often comes to mind is a sitcom/action/comedy show about his life after the war as a married man and father.

10- Disney's Tangled the series spinoff featuring Cassandra- While Rapunzel's story is done and over, Cassandra's is not. She went from being a friend, a villain, a secondary heroine to a travelling adventurer. She was not only a good foil to Rapunzel as a sisterly figure, but also a great character in her own right. She is a woman of action with a tomboyish streak, but is open to meeting the right guy (though she won't say it). She is also a strong female character who isn't a Mary Sue or tries to upstage or replace Rapunzel. Not even when she went bad for a while. Cassandra fit neatly into the lore of Disney's Rapunzel and I would love to see where her own independent story goes and maybe, we should. She is a truly unique female character in the lore of Disney as it is as she is not a princess, she was born out of wedlock and it was her own mother who abused and abandoned her.

Anyway, that is my list. What is yours?

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free-for-all-fics · 1 year

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Obscure Characters List - Female Edition (A-M)

Obscure Characters I love for some reason - Female Edition (A-M). (By obscure I mean characters that have little to no fanfic written about them. Not necessarily characters nobody’s ever heard of.) Don’t ask me to explain why. UPDATED: I had to split these up into separate posts because tumblr is being a butt about post length or something and won’t let me add more to either list idk.

Abigail Bishop/Emily (Let’s Scare Jessica to Death)

Agnes (Downfall Redux)

Agony Symbiote (Marvel Comics)

Alice (Apsulov: End of Gods)

Amanda Ripley (Alien Isolation)

Amelia (Underworld)

Anastasie “Tasi” Trianon (Amnesia Rebirth)

Annalise, Queen of the Vilebloods (Bloodborne)

Anna Valerious (Van Helsing 2004)

Baroness Clarimonde Catani (The Vampire Happening)

Belle (A Christmas Carol)

Black Canary/Dinah Drake/Dinah Laurel Lance (DC Comics)

Blackfire/Princess Komand'r (DC comics/Teen Titans)

Blind Mag/Magdalene DeFoe (Repo! The Genetic Opera)

Brides of Dracula (any version)

Cala Maria (Cuphead)

Calendar Girl/Page Munroe (DC Comics/The New Batman Adventures)

Catherine Chun (SOMA)

Charlotte Elbourne (Vampire Hunter D)

Charlotte Thornton (Nancy Drew, Ghost of Thornton Hall)

Chrissy/Mildred Pratt (Deadstream)

Constance Blackwood (We Have Always Lived in the Castle)

Cora (Devil’s Carnival 2)

Countess Marya Zaleska (Dracula's Daughter)

Dana Newman/The Angry Princess (Thirteen Ghosts remake)

Dolirra (Fariwalk: The Prelude)

Doll Face (The Strangers)

Dollisa (Fariwalk: The Prelude)

Edith Finch (What Remains of Edith Finch)

Elisabeth Williams (Maid of Sker)

Elizabeth Eilander (Rusty Lake Paradise)

Elizabeth Shelley (Frankenhooker)

Empress Tihana (Amnesia Rebirth)

Erin (You’re Next)

Estella (Great Expectations)

Esther/Leena Klammer (Orphan 1 and 2)

Evelyn “Evie” Carnahan O' Connnell (The Mummy series)

Faith (Buffy the Vampire Slayer)

Ginger Fitzgerald (Ginger Snaps)

Glorificus “Glory” (Buffy the Vampire Slayer)

Goody (Vampires)

Grace Le Domas (Ready Or Not)

Gwendolyn “Gwen” Grayson/Royal Pain (Sky High)

Harper Thornton (Nancy Drew, Ghost of Thornton Hall)

Hel (Apsulov: End of Gods)

Hero (Much Ado About Nothing)

Imogen “Idgie” Threadgoode (Green Fried Tomatoes)

Iris (30 Days of Night)

Isabelle/The Bride (Spookies)

Jane Doe (Autopsy of Jane Doe)

Jayme/Red (Blood Fest)

Jennet Humfrye/The Woman in Black (The Woman in Black)

Julia/Subject Three (TAU)

Juliette Waters (Sylvio)

Justine Florbelle (Amnesia the Dark Descent)

Kate Drew (Nancy Drew, The Silent Spy)

Kathy Rain (Kathy Rain)

Katrina Van Tassel (Sleepy Hollow)

Kissin’ Kate Barlow (Holes)

Lady Maria of the Astral Clocktower (Bloodborne)

Lady Sybil Crawley/Branson (Downton Abbey)

Lamia (Stardust)

Laura "Lorelai" Wood (Lorelai)

Laure Richis (Perfume: The Story of a Murderer)

Laurie (Trick ‘r Treat)

Leech Woman (Puppetmaster series)

Lena (Underworld: Blood Wars)

Lily (V/H/S Amateur Night/SiREN)

Lily Munster (The Munsters)

Loretta, Knight of the Haligtree (Elden Ring)

Lucille Sharpe (Crimson Peak)

Lucy Billington (The Invitation)

Lunar Princess Ranni (Elden Ring)

Malenia the Severed (Elden Ring)

Marni Wallace (Repo! The Genetic Opera)

Mary Katherine “Merricat” Blackwood (We Have Always Lived in the Castle)

Mel (Nancy Drew, Warnings at Waverly Academy)

Melanie Ravenswood (Phantom Manor)

Melina (Elden Ring)

Millicent (Elden Ring)

Milk Maiden (2001 Maniacs)

Mirror Queen (The Brothers Grimm)

Miss Brixil (Level 16)

Moder (The Ritual)

#Obscure characters list #Obscure characters #Obscure fictional characters #will be added to over time

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deaniewagner · 1 year

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closed starter for @tysonchapmans location: tyson and thadd's apartment, thalloween (bathroom)

Deanie had felt beyond stupid for crying.

It wasn't the first time that Everett had backed out the last minute -- she was honestly kind of used to it by now. It wasn't even that he was missing something important -- this was just a stupid costume party for people he barely knew.

But she was still disappointed. She had been looking forward to seeing him, to doing things as an actual couple for a few days, to actually have some of his input on the wedding planning in person instead of over FaceTime. She wanted the chance to remember that she wasn't alone in her relationship.

But he'd been asked to scrub in on a rare surgery and missed his flight. Which left Deanie alone at a party in a costume that was meant to match.

Until Tyson had emerged -- the Rick O'Connell to her Evelyn Carnahan.

She'd had excused herself to the bathroom to not interrupt the mood of the party, opening the door to let him join her when he knocked.

"I'm sorry, I don't know what happened," she tells him with a breath and a tearful smile as she tries to delicately fix her eye makeup in the mirror.

"That was really sweet...You didn't have to do that."

#threads.#int. tyson #thalloween.

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sabertoofed · 2 years

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mirror tag drop

#❪ mirror ❫ ⤿ evelyn marthain.#❪ mirror ❫ ⤿ aurora stjernström.#❪ mirror ❫ ⤿ torvi‚ daughter of heiren.#❪ mirror ❫ ⤿ bb8.#❪ mirror ❫ ⤿ kadri karga.#❪ mirror ❫ ⤿ thea klein.#❪ mirror ❫ ⤿ abdah spector.#❪ mirror ❫ ⤿ athos de la fère.#❪ mirror ❫ ⤿ arya stark.#❪ mirror ❫ ⤿ twelfth doctor.#❪ mirror ❫ ⤿ blue.#❪ mirror ❫ ⤿ evelyn carnahan.#❪ mirror ❫ ⤿ nessa o’connor.#❪ mirror ❫ ⤿ gemma scatterflow.

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angel-0f-verdun · 2 years

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01 The Darkness

Rick. I thought annoyed with my brother and his shit. He had forgotten to pay our bills for our apartment in Cairo yet again. I had been expecting him back from his excursion across the desert with the French Foreign Legionnaires, I sighed upset with him because it had been days since his due back date. Of course, I would never breathe a word of discomfort to his face. I set the mail down on my desk near the window where the sun was just starting to rise over the horizon. I took a deep breath, letting my eyes close and forgetting the troubles that clouded my mind. I let the rays touch my skin as they warmed me, the cool air that flowed through the apartment keeping a steady 70 degrees. I smiled opening my eyes feeling a bit refreshed, I brushed the mail out of the way to uncover the book that I had set it on. The book, its name I did not know as the writings were in ancient Egyptian. I was learning the dead language as my colleague Evelyn Carnahan was fluent in it. She took me under her wing at the museum teaching me the ancient Egyptian hieroglyphs, language, and history. I was never the studious type so the progress had been slow. However, I had always had a fascination with this area of the world, growing up in America was fine, but a strong connection had always pulled me here. I knew that one way or another I would find my calling in this beautifully rugged country. When I found out that Rick had been deployed here I knew I had to come with him. He was rarely around it seemed. It upset me as we had not been particularly close all these years we’d spent together. Cairo was actually where we were born, a cold dark orphanage not far from here. I did not remember much from that time, though I had the mark to prove I was there. The tattoo I had not asked for, I rubbed my wrist thinking about the carnage I was reading about and the dark history that surrounded the place we lived. The darkness was something that did not scare me. As a child, I reveled in it, while most my age would shy away from it. All my life I’d felt as if the shadows understood, they were there not to scare but to comfort. It felt odd remembering it like this, almost like a curse. But it never felt that way to me, it was normal. It explained my sleep schedule as to why this hour seemed like bedtime and the night kept me awake. The clock read 7:13 am and I knew it was time to get going. I sighed as I watched the sun poke its head finally over the skyline.

Time for work, I rushed around my room to my closet finding a long skirt and white shirt that I knew would be appropriate for my job as a tour guide in the museum. While studying was not my strong suit, memorization was. It helped that Evy would be there today categorizing the library, it always made my day go faster when she was working with me. It filled the gaps in the schedule that I worked. Sometimes I would help her with the categorizing and filing as needed, it was calming work altogether and very easy money. I left my closet as I finished dressing and went to the bathroom to put a bit of makeup on. I lined my eyes and smiled at the reflection in the mirror, she smiled back briefly. I dropped my smile and headed towards the door reaching for my keys that were in a bowl where Rick and I put them. With one last glance towards the small space, I started my walk to the Museum of Antiquities.

Next Chapter

#the mummy #ardeth bay x oc #ardeth bay #ardeth bey #the mummy fanfiction #Rick O'Connell #evelyn carnahan #jonathan carnahan

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lolalovesu · 3 years

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my awesome friend vyn @bringmoreknives tagged me to post my 10 favorite female characters from different fandoms! thank you so much for thinking of me xoxo

here they are:

1. christine mcconnell from the curious creations of christine mcconnell (who cares that she's playing herself in a universe where monsters come to life and dita von teese is the ghost in her mirror)

2. deena from the fear street trilogy

3. wednesday addams from the addams family

4. nadja from what we do in the shadows

5. usagi tsukino from sailor moon

6. sabrina spellman from chilling adventures of sabrina

7. evelyn carnahan-o'connell in the mummy series

8. anne shirley-cuthbert from anne with an e

9. elizabeth swann from pirates of the caribbean

10. claire fraser from outlander

i'm tagging: @raytorosaurus @milfygerard @hoer @mothervengeance & @parceltapepanda

#tag game

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dragons-bones · 4 years

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A non-comprehensive list of fictional relationships from which I’ve realized I draw a lot of inspiration from when writing m/f relationships and, more specifically, Aymeric/Synnove:

Gomez and Morticia Addams

Definitely draw very heavily from Gomez for Aymeric, although Aymeric of course isn’t as manic as Gomez can be; giant heart eyes and the occasional grand gesture are natch, though. Synnove doesn’t quite have a full Morticia vibe (serene she is not), she’s still very much a rock for Aymeric (and the looming specter of Terrifying, Displeased Lady at his shoulder at Ishgardian soirees if any of the nobles try to start shit)

Evelyn Carnahan and Rick O’Connell

More Evie for Synnove in unashamedly nerding out about her chosen field of study plus Love Of Adventure to her beau; Rick, of course, enjoys Evie’s enthusiasm for her field, but would prefer not to start Shenanigans (though he is excellent at protecting his ridiculous family when the Shenanigans start), whereas Aymeric is very much Ready To Go whenever Synnove needs assistance with her special kind of nonsense

Phryne Fisher and Jack Robinson

Jack is basically a grumpier, more cynical version of Aymeric, fucking fight me; and while Phryne in terms of personality is a much closer match for Rereha (though her trauma mirrors Synnove’s to a degree), I think it’s pretty obvious how quickly Phryne becomes smitten with Jack as they get to know one another. (’Oh, he’s hot, that’s a nice bonus to this business. Oh, shit, he’s got depth, I’m fucked.’ See also, Synnove during the events of Heavensward.) Also, best example of a successful slow burn. (Though, while Aymeric and Synnove snark and smolder at one another, they weren’t so much a Will They Or Won’t They as much as they were a When Will They couple.)

Basically, ridiculously in love with one another and mutually supportive with a sliding scale of “exasperated to excited” on reactions to one member of the couple getting Involved In Shenanigans.

#this post brought to you by lots of binge watching favorite movies and shows in the past two months multiple times #coupled with consciously analyzing what effect if any said movies and shows have on my preferences in writing and characters #surprise (not): it's pretty big #and that's not touching the books and video games and other IPs i enjoy

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thelure · 6 years

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full name: úna fiona burke nicknames: no nickname nationality: english with irish roots mbti: entj, the commander zodiac: gemini schooling (and house, if applicable): ravenclaw (her personal, quiet shame), member of the potions club, student librarian, spearhead leader of the ancient runes club for which there were only three members. wand: 14 ½, cherry, dragon heartstring, slightly springy flexibility

special skills: like all burkes, úna is exceptionally good at finding herself in the possession or rare, powerful, or peculiar objects (even more so than her grandfather caractacus). she has a boundless knowledge of the history of magic, magical artifacts, the rare and peculiar spells and potions. a woman who could sell a banana for ten dollars 😉at the ripe age of 7, is a magical merchant. ancient runes, archaeology of magic and potions are her personal passions.

boggart: the long, pale, cold hands of a family member slipping around her throat in the night as she sleeps. suffocating her.

mirror of erised: the wind blows lightly, kissing her skin, making her long blonde hair dance like the weeping willows behind her. the ocean crashes loudly in big waves against the shore in front of her. with nothing but a slip dress and a warm cable knit sweater, úna listens to the caw of overgrown crows and the sound of water. on the beach with gray clouds looming into the horizon, she is completely alone.

amortentia: the chilly fall air that’s fresh and dry and smells of dried leaves and burning firewood, roasted coffee, the dusty smell of antiques that have been packed away for years, dry dirt, rose oil and peppermint

top three qualities important to them: a pertinacious mind — accepting all possibilities but unwilling to bend or break unless given 100% proven fact with all of the receipts (preferably filed in an alphabetical fashion). self-confidence — there is nothing like someone who is able to live outside of others, to not be swayed by the “do’s” and “don’ts” and just “be”, be themselves without fear. directness — a passive person makes her sick, if you’re too weak to speak up, speak loud, speak honestly and direct to the point with your truth, then don’t speak at all. stay quiet and don’t you dare complain about your woes.

worst thing about them: she might have a few enemies or acquaintances that might have a thing or two to say but if you asked úna herself, she’d say the worst thing is that she wasn’t born with the same power as a man.

first impressions: like a mid-fall day, she chills the room as she walks in— heel first, then long calves to long thighs that walk with the grace of a swan, to hips that sway in a way that makes any good moral man turn away with a blush, to long torso holding long arms and delicate hands, with narrow shoulders and blonde head. makes you quiver in your skin with how calm and collected she is, the essence of cool. an easy warm smile is never too far away from cracking the resting bitch face that does not happen to be just an unfortunate facial expression. crystal blue eyes dance wild like a storm rattled sea, there is an unwavering self confidence and certainty that emanates almost intimidatingly so from her fair skin.

aesthetics: mysterious vases that probably shouldn’t be holding flowers, transcribed rolls shoved as neatly as possible into a cubby on an old oak desk, fresh white linen sheets, the ocean under a pale moonlight, bright red leaves swaying down gently as it falls from a branch, nailed wooden crates that emanate the smell of hay used to protect a priceless package, firewood logs nearly burnt to a crisp, crystal perfume bottles gathering dust, jewelry kept in old sea shells found on the shore, an attic of antiques and old furniture there’s just no room anywhere else for, neatly kept receipts, books full of merchandise audits, mens pants stained with foreign dirt, a history lecture, an antique rug stained by various wine spills

character parallels: lady mary crawley, downton abbey; evelyn o’connell (carnahan), the mummy; patsy stone, absolutely fabulous, jerry, the divorcee; prue halliwell, charmed; queen titania, a midsummer night’s dream; charlotte wells, harlots.

gif that represents them:

#character: una burke #this is crap i got lazy in the middle #jackalau

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onelittlebookgeek · 5 years

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Book Challenge 2019 - I DID IT!

Hi guys, after tracking all the books I’ve read here from 2013-2016, I completely forgot this whole thing for more than 3 years! Sorry!!

No fear though: I’m back! Even though 2019 has almost ended, I’ll make sure this post correctly reflects the whole of 2019!

Since it’s already the end of October, I do feel like I have some hindsight vision into my reading pace this past year, but before I mention how it actually went, I want to explain my original expectations! So 2019 for me is the year I’m finishing my Classics Bachelor Degree in July and the year I’ll be studying abroad for one term from September to December (I’m doing two degrees, so I’ll still be doing my English degree after Classics!). So for my reading, I’d expected not to read a lot. Perhaps for my thesis some books on the subjects and of course for English my course work. So my original reading goal was 50 books!

Looking back on these expectations I must say I’ve read a great deal more than I expected! Writing my thesis did include reading a lot of books and other course work had more reading than I thought I would which boosted my challenge in the first half of the year! Of course, I’ve also read quite a lot during the holidays because what else is there to do in the holidays :D? Regarding my studying abroad experience, I’m reading more than I expected. This is partly because the course work is again much more based on reading books than articles or just parts of book. At the same time, I’m doing less studying than I used to do back home, so I have more time free to do some casual reading. On top of that - since I’m walking everywhere here - I’ve started listening to audiobooks which also adds a couple to the challenge.

So my challenge became 80 books! But I had already surpassed before November, so that’s great! I’d expressed my hopes to read 100 books this year as well, but out of fear of not making that I hadn’t changed my goals. Seeing as of now (mid-November), I’ve already read 93 books I feel confident I can read at least 7 more until a 100, so I’ve changed my goal to read 100 books

The crossed book is the one I’m currently reading, I’ve written reviews for books that have a (x) behind them; the (x) is a link to my Goodreads review!

Update: Today (December 31) I’ve read 135 books so I’ve finished my challenge!! Let’s see where the rest of this year brings me :D!

January

The Oresteia - Ted Hughes (4/5) (x)

The Sign of Four (Sherlock Holmes #2) - Arthur Conan Doyle (3/5)

The Suffragettes - Various (3/5)

The Poems of Phillis Wheatley - Philils Wheatley (3/5) (x)

Narrative of the Life of Frederick Douglass, An American Slave - Frederick Douglass (3/5)

Incidents in the Life of a Slave Girl: Written by Herself - Harriet Ann Jacobs (4/5)

February

Darius the Great is Not Okay - Adib Khorram (5/5)

A Disquisition on Government - John C. Calhoen (2/5)

March:

‘s Nachts verdwijnt de wereld - Jaap Robben (Dutch) (4/5)

Public Opinion - Walter Whitman (3/5)

Sum: Forty Tales from the Afterlives - David Eagleman (5/5) (x)

Zalig Uiteinde - Viktor Frölke (Dutch) (2/5)

Vampire Academy (Vampire Academy #1) - Richelle Mead (reread) (4/5)

Frostbite (Vampire Academy #2) - Richelle Mead (reread) (4/5)

Language and Power - Paul Simpson (3/5)

Language Change: Progress or Decay? - Jean Aitchison (3/5) (x)

Shadow Kiss (Vampire Academy #3) - Richelle Mead (reread) (4/5)

April:

Blood Promise (Vampire Academy #4) - Richelle Mead (reread) (4/5)

A Latin Lover in Ancient Rome - W.R. Johnson (2/5) (x)

The Waste Land - T.S. Eliot (5/5) (x)

Propertius: Elegies - Propertius (ed. Hutchinson) (2/5) (x)

Propertius: A Critical Introduction - J.P. Sullivan (3/5)

Waiting for Godot - Samuel Beckett (4/5) (x)

Lanny - Max Porter (4/5) (x)

Between the Acts - Virginia Woolf (5/5) (x)

Roman Propertius and the Reinvention of Elegy - Jeri Blair DeBrohun (1/5)

Yukon Ho! (Calvin and Hobbes #3) - Bill Watterson (4/5) (x)

Emancipating Lincoln - Harold Holzer (3/5)

The Lonely Londoners - Sam Selvon (1/5) (x)

May:

Pale Fire - Vladimir Nabokov (5/5) (x)

The Shadow of Callimachus: Studies in the Reception of Hellenistic Poetry at Rome - Richard Hunter (2/5)

Literary and Artistic Patronage in Ancient Rome - Barbara K. Gold (3/5)

White Trash: The 400-Year Untold History of Class in America - Nancy Isenberg (2/5) (x)

Act of Justice: Lincoln’s Emancipation Proclamation and the Law of War - Burrus M. Carnahan (3/5)

Lincoln’s Emancipation Proclamation: The End of Slavery in America - Allen C. Guelzo (3/5)

June:

Apollo, Augustus and the Poets - John F. Miller (2/5) (x)

Oryx and Crake (MaddAddam #1) - Margaret Atwood (3/5) (x)

Circe - Madeline Miller (4/5) (x)

Percy Jackson and the Lightning Thief (Percy Jackson #1) - Rick Riordan (reread) (4/5)

Callimachus and his Critics - Alan Cameron (2/5)

July:

Elegies - Propertius (5/5)

Percy Jackson and the Sea of Monsters (Percy Jackson #2) - Rick Riordan (reread) (4/5)

Er was er eens en er was er eens niet - Judith Herzberg (Dutch) (1/5)

Percy Jackson and the Titan’s Curse (Percy Jackson #3) - Rick Riordan (reread) (4/5)

A Room of One’s Own - Virginia Woolf (5/5) (x)

Red, White and Royal Blue - Casey McQuiston (4/5) (x)

The Book of Extraordinary Deaths - Cecilia Ruiz (3/5)

The Ballad of Reading Gaol and Other Poems - Oscar Wilde (4/5)

The Epic of Gilgamesh (3/5)

Much Ado About Nothing - William Shakespeare (5/5)

Percy Jackson and the Battle of the Labyrinth (Percy Jackson #4) - Rick Riordan (reread) (5/5)

Percy Jackson and the Last Olympian (Percy Jackson #5) - Rick Riordan (reread) (5/5)

The Peloponnesian War, Book 2 - Thucydides (3/5)

The Picture of Dorian Gray - Oscar Wilde (5/5)

August:

A Court of Mist and Fury (A Court of Thorns and Roses #2) - Sarah J. Maas (reread) (4/5)

Hold Your Own - Kate Tempest (4/5)

Slimy Stuarts - Terry Deary (3/5)

Orlando - Virginia Woolf (5/5) (x)

Silence of the Girls - Pat Barker (3/5) (x)

Songs of Innocence and Experience - William Blake (4/5)

Windharp: Poems of Ireland since 1916 - Coll. by Niall MacMonagle (4/5)

Kaas - Willem Elsschot (Dutch) (1/5)

Goblin Market - Christina Rossetti (4/5)

Brand New Ancients - Kate Tempest (3/5)

September:

The Fall of Arthur - J.R.R. Tolkien (3/5)

Of Mice and Men - John Steinbeck (4/5)

The Bees - Carol Ann Duffy (4/5)

Poems - Allen Ginsberg (5/5)

Spirit Bound (Vampire Academy #5) - Richelle Mead (reread) (4/5)

Last Sacrifice (Vampire Academy #6) - Richelle Mead (reread) (4/5)

Callirhoe and Caereas - Chariton (3/5)

Bartleby the Scrivener - Herman Melville (3/5)

Benito Cereno - Herman Melville (4/5)

October:

Narrative of the Life of Frederick Douglass, An American Slave - Frederick Douglass (4/5)

Incidents in the Life of a Slave Girl: Written by Herself - Harriet Ann Jacobs (2/5)

An Absolutely Remarkable Thing - Hank Green (4/5)

Song of Myself - Walt Whitman (4/5) (x)

Walt Whitman and Emily Dickinson: Poetry of the Central Consciousness - Salsa Agnieszka (3/5)

A Thousand Ships - Natalie Haynes (4/5) (x)

Roderick Hudson - Henry James (4/5) (x)

All That She Can See - Carrie Hope Fletcher (3/5) (x)

The Priory of the Orange Tree - Samantha Shannon (4/5)

All the Crooked Saints - Maggie Stiefvater (3/5) (x)

Daphnis and Chloe - Longus (3/5)

The Maltese Falcon - Dashiell Hammett (1/5) (x)

November:

The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn - Mark Twain (2/5) (x)

Lily and the Octopus - Steven Rowley (4/5) (x)

First World War Poems from the Front (4/5)

If We Were Villains - M.L. Rio (4/5) (x)

The Republic - Plato (2/5) (x)

Observations - Marianne Moore (5/5)

Poems (1930) - W.H. Auden (2/5) (x)

The Professor’s House - Willa Cather (1/5) (x)

Becoming - Michelle Obama (4/5)

The Outsider - Albert Camus (4/5)

Three Poems - Hannah Sullivan (3/5)

Leucippe and Clitophon - Achilles Tatius (4/5)

The Book of Mirrors - Frieda Hughes (3/5) (x)

Sophist - Plato (5/5) (x)

Selected Poems - E.E. Cummings (4/5)

A Raisin in the Sun - Lorraine Hansberry (4/5)

The Beats (A Very Short Introduction) - David Sterrit (4/5)

The Cat Inside - William S. Burroughs (5/5)

The Seven Deaths of Evelyn Hardcastle - Stuart Turton (4/5) (x)

Kindred - Octavia E. Butler (4/5)

Remains of Elmet - Ted Hughes (3/5) (x)

Dear Boy - Emily Berry (1/5) (x)

The Merchant of Venice - Willaim Shakespeare (3/5)

Pnin - Vladimir Nabokov (4/5)

How to Be a Woman - Caitlin Moran (2/5) (x)

The Lost Continent: Travels in Small-Town America - Bill Bryson (3/5)

December

Tracks - Louise Erdrich (3/5)

Derrida (A Very Short Introduction) - Simon Glendinning (x)

Ariel - Sylvia Plath (5/5)

London Triptych - Jonathan Kemp (3/5)

Two Cures for Love - Wendy Cope (5/5)

Citizen: An American Lyric - Claudia Rankine (4/5)

Magnus Chase and the Ship of the Dead (Magnus Chase #3) - Rick Riordan (4/5)

The Vegetarian - Han Kang (4/5)

Selected Poems - Philip Larkin (3/5)

Kid - Simon Armitage (1/5) (x)

The Children Act - Ian McEwan (4/5)

On Chesil Beach - Ian McEwan (3/5) (x)

The Time Traveler’s Wife - Audrey Niffenegger (4/5) (x)

Naked Lunch - William S. Burroughs (4/5)

Man met hoed - Lieke Marsman (3/5) (Dutch) (x)

Koffers Zeelucht: Gedichten - Hagar Peeters (Dutch) (4/5)

Selected Poems - Gregory Corso (3/5)

Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone - J.K. Rowling (reread) (5/5)

Pride and Prejudice - Jane Austen (reread) (5/5)

Erotic Poems - E.E. Cummings (3/5)

Twelfth Night - William Shakespeare (reread) (4/5)

Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf? - Edward Albee (2/5)

Carry On - Rainbow Rowell (reread) (4/5)

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belphegor1982 · 4 years

Text

O-kay. *rubs hands* If you’re still reading after the last couple of chapters then oh thank god you trust me you might enjoy this one...

FAIRY TALES AND HOKUM

Summary: 1937: Two years after the events of Ahm Shere, the O’Connells are “required” by the British Government to bring the Diamond taken there from Egypt to England. In Cairo, while Evelyn deals with the negotiations and Rick waits for doom to strike again, Jonathan bumps into an old friend of his from university, Tom Ferguson. Things start to go awry when the Diamond is stolen from the Museum and old loyalties are tested… (story on AO3; on FFnet)

(Chapters on Tumblr: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20)

Chapter 21: Unlooked For and Unhoped For (on AO3 here; on FFnet here)

Tom Ferguson was exhausted, bruised, and in pain, but he was alive. He was still coming to grips with that fact. Frankly, he found it astonishing.

He had barely been aware of Jon screaming on the other side of the wall while the pygmy mummies attacked again. In the utter confusion he had somehow managed to not get hit by blow darts, only get grazed by a knife, and then fall down the same hole O’Connell had disappeared into earlier. Sometimes his luck got so bad it could pass for good fortune.

He landed hard and lost consciousness on impact. When he woke up and took inventory of his injuries, he found a red streak on his side – not deep, thankfully – courtesy of the pygmy mummies, rivulets of blood on his hands from where he had tried to slow down his fall, and an extensive set of bruises on his left side. At least he had not broken anything.

The tablet he had been holding was still whole, too, and fortunately it hadn’t fallen on him. Considering the weight, he half-expected it to be made of stone.

The respect Tom had for the written word plus the natural curiosity that had led him into his chosen profession made him tuck the tablet into his rucksack. The circumstances made him promptly forget about it.

He started making his way down even before his brain decided on what to do. What did he have? No weapon and a whole lot of bruises, his mind helpfully answered. Where does that leave you, you fool?

Jon and O’Connell were still out there, and they would do anything to stop Hamilton. Maybe he could find them again down there and help them.

Tom realised his feet were leading him to the chamber Hamilton had released Anubis’ Army from, and he followed them, ignoring the voice at the back of his brain calling him a twonk for not going the other way.

He wasn’t far from the chamber when he heard the crash and felt the strange, numbing darkness go through him like an accelerated bout of the flu. He only ran harder when he heard the gunshots and felt the floor start to shake.

Jon and O’Connell were nowhere in sight when he sprinted into the chamber. The only people there were Robertson, Collins, and Bennett, the first two trying to lift a big gong off the floor with Bennett pulling on something underneath with all his might.

Tom wasn’t very tall, but he was taller than Bennett, and heftier. He limped his way across the floor, dodging falling debris, and went to help him.

They all stared at him, goggle-eyed.

“Ferguson!?” said Robertson.

“You’re alive!” Collins sputtered. Tom rolled his eyes.

“Not thanks to you idiots. Where’s everybody? And who’s under the gong?”

“The boss,” said Bennett with difficulty, muscles straining. “Your mates shot at the chains holding it to the wall and made it fall on him. Baine took his hit squad and tore off after them.”

Tom couldn’t help a shudder before he rallied himself. Jon had been quite fleet of foot in their dissolute youth, and O’Connell obviously was no slouch either. They would be all right.

They had to be.

“Yeah, well, I’m not cryin’ over the bastard,” he said, evenly enough. “And you should thank them when you get out, because I’m pretty sure knockin’ out Hamilton saved the whole bloody world.”

The three agents shot him doubtful looks, but didn’t object. Maybe they had come to their senses and accepted they had made a right cock-up of things. And maybe, Tom thought with an inner snigger, somewhere, pigs sprouted wings and flew.

When they finally pulled him out from under the gong, it became obvious that Hamilton was a little bit worse than ‘knocked out’. His right arm stuck out at an unnatural angle, and the small pool of blood where his head lay didn’t bode well for his future. However, when Tom reached for his neck to check his pulse, he turned out to be alive.

A larger tremor almost sent the four men joining the fifth on the ground. Robertson, Bennett, and Collins looked at each other.

“This place really is falling apart, isn’t it?” Bennett ventured. Robertson and Collins nodded fervently.

“And we should get the hell out, huh?”

“Probably,” said Tom, still bent over Hamilton. “Hey, can you—”

Hurried footsteps interrupted him. Tom looked up to see the three agents running like hell towards the exit.

He sent a half-pleading, half-exasperated look heavenwards. Then he looked back down at his erstwhile boss.

There was nothing he wanted to do more than crash and sleep for days. But he would have to be alive for that – and be able to look at himself in the mirror afterwards.

With a pained cry, Tom hefted Hamilton’s body on his shoulder in a fireman’s carry, and made for the exit on somewhat trembling legs.

“If you ever wonder who saved your sorry arse,” he snarled between clenched teeth, knowing Hamilton was beyond hearing anything but too tired and furious to care, “I’ll be sure to let you know it was me. And then, you’ll… then you’ll ask, ‘Why on earth did that idiot bother saving a man who ordered him and his friends dead the second he… he didn’t need them?’ And I’ll look at you in your cell – b—because you’ll be in prison, obviously – and I’ll say… I’ll say…”

He stopped, swallowed a mixture of spit and grit, and continued with a grunt, “I’ll say there was no way in hell I would let you get away with it. You… dragged your subordinates into the desert to play with a supernatural army. You set that army on the world without knowing or caring about who they would slaughter. You put Gabriel fucking Baine in charge. You forced me to double-cross the best bloke I ever… ever drank Scotch with. You… You kidnapped my wife, you unbelievable bastard! You’re going to live, and you’re going to jail.”

Halfway up Tom had to stop muttering, needing the breath to put one foot in front of the other and just keep going, despite Hamilton’s dead weight, despite the crumbling pyramid, despite the dust and the tremors. Spite fuelled his muscles, aided by a righteous fury like he had hardly felt before and all the pent-up worry about Liz, Jon, and the end of the world he had accumulated for over a week.

Still, when he finally caught sight of blinding light at the end of the last flight of stairs, tears sprang out of his eyes.

How he made those final few yards, still bent under Hamilton’s weight, he would never know. He barely even noticed the threatening-looking desert warriors in black holding him at gunpoint before his knees gave out and he collapsed on the sand, dropping his boss’s body near him.

In a haze, delirious with exhaustion, he vaguely felt a rumble from underneath the pyramid. It seemed to travel all the way from the centre of the earth to the surface. When it hit, the big blocks of stone that formed the top of the pyramid started to shake; the diamond Hamilton himself had placed between the scorpion statue’s pincers last evening – a century ago – trembled and fell into the collapsing stones, which broke apart, until there was nothing left but rocks and sand.

The Pyramid of Ahm Shere had disappeared.

Tom’s eyes rolled in his head. Everything went black.

When he emerged, he was lying on a carpet in a vast tent, surrounded by wounded agents. Someone had cleaned and patched up the wound in his side and the scratches on his hands – most likely one of the men and women with black clothes and facial tattoos who walked about between them, taking care of injuries with distant efficiency. They had left him his rucksack, although it had been stripped of anything remotely weapon-like. Only his notebooks and his pencil bag remained, half stuck to the tablet still mostly covered in black gunk.

He only realised he was a prisoner when they sent him away into another tent, where he found Robertson, Bennett, McLean, and a few others.

“Don’t tell we’re all that’s left,” he gasped. Hamilton would have a lot to answer for.

Robertson shook his head.

“There must be other tents. Collins survived, too, and he didn’t need the infirmary.”

“Oh. Good.” Tom looked around. “Anyone heard about Carnahan and O’Connell? Do you know if they got out?”

He was met with mostly disdain mingled with disgust. “They almost killed the boss and brought down the pyramid on top of us, and you ask about them first?” Hinckley said, his lip curling. “You bloody traitor.”

“Oh, for Christ’s sake…” Tom made to rub his face, looked at his bandaged hands, and changed his mind. “The pyramid was going to collapse anyway, all right?” he exclaimed. “Just before sunrise, when the new moon set. They just stopped Anubis’ Army from taking over the world because Hamilton –”

“Hang on,” interrupted McLean, squinting at him. “How did you know the pyramid would collapse?”

“Because I did my job!” shouted Tom. “I questioned people! I crossed sources! I investigated! Hamilton based his entire operation on fairy tales and hokum, and he didn’t even bother to check if he had the right version of the bloody legend to begin with!”

“But…” Bennett’s voice was hesitant. “But he’s the boss. Surely he knows better, doesn’t he?”

Tom stared at him, floored. Then at the other agents, various shades of uncertainty between them.

“Sod this,” he finally articulated. “I’m out.”

He went to the tent entrance, and carefully – very carefully – drew the flap and looked at the stern-faced young man guarding the tent with a machine gun.

“Excuse me?” he said in Arabic. The man turned and glared at him, but Tom didn’t falter. “I… Are there any news about Jonathan Carnahan and Rick O’Connell? Your allies. Did they make it out of the pyramid? I just want to know if they’re all right.”

The Medjai fixed him with a beady stare.

“Why?” he eventually asked.

“Because we’re friends, believe it or not. And I don’t think they even know I’m still alive.”

The man stared at him suspiciously. “What’s your name?”

“Tom Ferguson.”

“I’ll see what I can do. You’d better not be lying to save your skin.”

Tom thanked him, went back inside, and waited.

And waited.

None of his colleagues talked to him – not that they talked much to each other, either. After a silence that seemed to last hours, someone parted the canvas and entered the tent. Tom scrambled to his feet, clutching the straps of his rucksack despite the bandages. He recognised the man. The first and last time he had seen him had been in the flickering light of campfires and burning tents, standing very tall with a scimitar in hand, staring at Charles Hamilton with fury blazing in his eyes.

In the light of day, Ardeth Bay appeared less tall, more tired, more human. His face was drawn, but his eyes were sharp as he zeroed in on Tom when the guard pointed at him.

“You are Tom Ferguson?” he asked in English with a lilting accent.

Tom gulped in spite of himself. Jon had said the man was intimidating. “Er, yes.”

“You are Tom Ferguson?”

The emphasis puzzled Tom. “Yes, I am – why?”

Ardeth Bay still stared at him, unblinking. “Witnesses say you carried Charles Hamilton’s body out of the pyramid seconds before it collapsed. Did you?”

“I’ll say,” Tom said fervently. “That man needs to get dragged in front of a court. He sorta has to be alive for that. How are Jon and O’Connell?” he added, emboldened by the fact that nobody seemed to want to point a gun or a sword at him. “Did they get out all right?”

The dark eyes flickered, the strong jaw clenched slightly. “Come with me.”

Tom followed him outside, ignoring the questions and protests of the agents behind him. Surprisingly, he was left alone, no gun at his back, hands and legs free of restraints. He walked behind Ardeth Bay silently, gazing around him and accelerating just a little sometimes to catch up with the man’s long strides.

The camp was huge. There was no end in sight to the well-ordered rows of tents. People, camels, and horses passed him by, carrying water, supplies, and what looked like dead bodies wrapped in white cloth. Nobody paid him any attention, but his escort – his captor – was often saluted.

They stopped in front of a smaller tent. After a few words with whoever was inside, Ardeth Bay stepped back, and Rick O’Connell stepped out.

He looked Tom over from head to toe with a dull kind of surprise and said, “…Huh.”

Something Tom hadn’t realised had been tense relaxed somewhere in his ribcage. He gave a small smile. “Hullo, O’Connell. Good to see you. Where’s Jon?”

To his surprise, O’Connell’s face fell. An eerie sense of wrongness started to creep its way into Tom’s heart. He did his best to ignore it.

“He’s, uh… He’s in there,” O’Connell finally said, and as Tom made to go inside he grabbed him by the arm and stopped him. “But there’s something I gotta tell you first.”

Tom looked at the hand on his arm, then at the man’s face. The impression came back in full force.

And then he understood. O’Connell didn’t even need to say it out loud. It was spelled out in his eyes and carved out on the lines of his face.

“No,” Tom said in a small voice, halfway between incredulity and flat out denial. “No. He can’t. He can’t be. That’s not…”

His voice died when Evelyn O’Connell came out of the tent, looking cold and drained of energy. Everything, from her red eyes to her posture, shoulders slumped and arms folded across herself, said what hadn’t been said aloud. Her usually sharp, bright gaze was muted as it slid over him as though he wasn’t fully there.

Ardeth Bay and O’Connell shared a meaningful look before the Medjai Commander slipped away like a shadow, to come back later.

Tom barely noticed. His head was swimming, full of a cold white fog. He stumbled, suddenly dizzy, and almost fell to the ground when a small blond-headed missile crashed into him, yelling inarticulately. In-between insults, curses, and just plain howls of pain, he heard “—traitor, and why did you get out alive and not—” and his brain seemed to stop functioning.

The boy’s face was scrunched up, pinched, looking nothing like the round-faced mischievous child Tom had seen at the bazaar with Jon, what felt like ages ago. His fists were balled up and he looked ready to do some damage – or at least try to – when O’Connell grabbed him by the middle and gathered him in his arms. He talked in Alex’s ear for a little while before the boy wriggled free and ran off. With a sigh, his father went after him.

Tom, still rooted to the spot, breathing too little and too fast, met Evelyn’s eyes. They appeared to soften ever so slightly.

“I’m sorry about Alex,” she said, her voice low and a little hoarse. “We didn’t have time to tell him what happened during the trip and in the pyramid.”

There were a million things Tom wanted to ask or say, but he could barely get air in and out of his lungs. Words just couldn’t get out. They seemed to run into one another, bunch up in his throat, and block everything.

Evelyn ran a hand across her face, then another. The stiffness and the exhaustion remained.

“I’m going to find them. If you… You can say goodbye. If you want to.”

Tom nodded. That seemed to be the extent of what he was currently capable of.

She lay a gentle hand on his arm as she passed. The sensation jolted some life back into him.

It was quiet inside the tent. The light from outside was dimmed and tinged with blue by the fabric. The shade and the silence did him good; his breathing still hitched, but at least he could mostly fill his lungs again.

There was a vague form on the ground, covered by a blanket. That had to be Jon. Tom itched to raise a corner, to make sure – but at the same time he was intimately aware that wild horses couldn’t drag him close enough to that blanket, let alone the body underneath.

Alex hadn’t been wrong, had he? Tom still had no idea what had happened since they had got separated or what had killed Jon, but… If he hadn’t bumped into Jon a couple of weeks ago… If he had seen Hamilton for the lunatic he was earlier… If he hadn’t been such a coward in the first place and said, ‘No, I’m not doing this’…

If.

Tom dropped his rucksack. It hit the ground with a loud thud. Then he sank down, drew up his knees, and let his face fall into his hands.

Nothing mattered for a long time.

.⅋.

Alex’s mouth was dry when he woke up, his nose was stuffy, and his head hurt a little bit. It felt a lot like it had the last time he had caught a cold that had forced him – for real – to miss class for a few days. For a second he wondered where he was, where his mum was, and – because this had been his main preoccupation over the past week – whether his dad and his uncle were safe…

And then it hit him.

Uncle Jon.

Who was dead.

Not knocked out, not taken, not elsewhere, just dead.

And he hadn’t even said goodbye.

Alex’s breath caught in his throat.

He thought of blue eyes twinkling at him over ice cream bought on a street corner; conspiratorial whispers across the dinner table; a comforting arm around his shoulders while Dad yelled at Ardeth about Mum, Imhotep, and the Scorpion King; long conversations about school, myths and legends, King Kong and Captain Blood…

His uncle had always been there, and then, just like that, he wasn’t.

It takes a lot more than a knock on the head to get rid of me, Uncle Jon had said, waving away his concern, and Alex had believed him at the time. Well, he hadn’t exactly been lying, had he?

“Do you want some tea, ḥabībī1?” asked a soft voice. Alex rubbed his cheeks, his skin stiff with salt from dried tears, and shuffled closer.

“Yes, please,” he said dully, sitting with his legs crossed and his back straight out of habit. Imeni was always nice to him, and her ghorayeba2 were to die for. She had made sa‘idi tea3; he watched her deftly pour the strong dark tea into a small glass from a height. As usual, not a single drop fell around the glass.

To his surprise, Alex realised he was hungry, and picked up a ghorayeba. Soon only a few crumbs remained.

He hoped the tea and butter biscuits would help dissolve the thick ball of misery that had settled into his chest, like it usually did.

It didn’t.

“Where’s my mum and dad?” he asked, rubbing his eyes with the heels of his palms.

Imeni blew gently on her own tea. “Ardeth set up a tent for them not far from here. Maira can take you there, if you want to.”

“Yeah, that’d be nice. Thanks.”

They had the rest of their tea and biscuits in silence. Afterwards, Alex thanked Imeni, still feeling subdued, like he was too tired to raise his voice.

Maira was waiting for him outside the tent, watching him intently, her big dark eyes very bright. Her mum had done her hair in her family’s style, and the many thin braids danced around her face as she moved.

They walked silently for a little while, Alex scuffing at the sand now and then. Then he asked, not looking up, “Do you think dead people really go to Heaven?”

Maira, as usual, considered the question seriously before she answered in Arabic, slowly enough for him to understand, “Maybe not all the dead. If you’ve done something really, really bad, I don’t think you can go there.”

“Bad, like… killed people?”

Maira’s reply was unusually hesitant, even quizzical. “Maybe?”

Uncle Jon had killed people. Mum and Dad had killed people. Maira’s mum and dad had killed people. Somehow, though, Alex couldn’t – refused to – imagine a heaven that denied them entry.

Maybe it was a bad thing to think or say, but a heaven that didn’t want Uncle Jon in it couldn’t be very interesting anyway.

“I hope my Uncle Tamer is in paradise,” she said, her voice low – so low Alex almost didn’t get all the words. Something unexpected pierced the heavy blanket of grief that seemed to dull everything, and it took him a moment to recognise it as sympathy.

“Your uncle’s dead?”

“He fell to the Warriors of Anubis two years ago. My mother cried for a whole day. Sabni was a baby, but I remember.” She tugged at one of her braids and toyed with the pearl at the end. “He had a big laugh, and he told the best stories.”

Alex nodded and tried to swallow the lump in his throat.

“I’m sorry.”

“And I’m sorry about your Uncle Jon.” Maira stopped, gave him a very serious look – Alex was suddenly struck by how much she looked like her father – and said, in English this time, “People die. If they die not, people are not born. We cry and we remember. We tell stories, and they live.”

Alex looked down again.

“I don’t want stories,” he mumbled. “I want him back.”

Then he looked up, and his heart skipped a beat.

There, standing in front of a tent, talking to his dad, was a stout, broad-faced man. He was scruffy and dishevelled, and looked a far cry from the friendly, smiling man from Alex’s memories, but he recognised him instantly.

Alex launched himself at Ferguson, enraged, wanting nothing more than to punch him into the sand. How dare the double-crossing git be still alive, his mind screamed. How dare he just stand there and not even make a show of defending himself. How dare –

Dad picked him up and held him close while he flailed around, and through the mist in his head Alex caught bits of sentences.

The guy had helped. Saved their lives, even, in the pyramid. He was actually a good guy, and had only just heard about Uncle Jon.

Alex didn’t care. He slipped from his father’s embrace and took off at a run. His mum and dad found him kicking a wooden crate. His foot was starting to hurt.

They sat on the crate, took him in their arms, and they talked. And talked.

It took a while before the clawing, snarling thing in Alex’s chest that made him want to keep kicking the crate till his foot fell off calmed down.

When the three of them fell silent, Alex remained snuggled against his dad a while, until someone’s stomach – either Rick’s or Evelyn’s – rumbled. The sound was absurd enough to force a smile out of him.

It turned out that, while Alex had had tea and biscuits with Imeni, neither of his parents had eaten anything since sundown the day before. Since Alex was absolutely not hungry, he insisted on staying in the tent while they went out for food, swearing he would stay where they knew he was, and behave.

“I want to say goodbye to Uncle Jon,” he managed to say around the lump in his throat. Dad gently ran a big hand through his hair and Mum kissed his forehead, and they let him go.

In the tent, somewhat to Alex’s relief, Uncle Jon didn’t look like Uncle Jon – or rather, he looked like Uncle Jon on the mornings he spent at the house, snug in his bed with a blanket pulled up over his head. It was always fun to go wake him up then, no matter how grumpy he got.

Alex’s foot caught in something, dragging him back to the present. Upon closer inspection, it turned out to be the strap of a big rucksack. Its owner was huddled up a few feet away, knees drawn up, his head in his hands.

When Alex had seen Tom Ferguson, he’d been more or less the same height as Uncle Jon, and larger, but now he looked small, and tired, and utterly miserable.

Alex, feeling quite small, tired, and miserable himself, finally let go of the last remnants of his anger and grudgingly allowed himself to feel a little sorry for the bloke.

“Um,” he began, making Ferguson jump. “I’m, er. I’m sorry about earlier.”

There seemed to be a lot of ‘sorry’ to go around today, he thought.

Ferguson looked up and stared at him bleakly. His face was pinched and his eyes red and puffy, but he wasn’t crying, or had stopped some time ago. Alex found it a relief, and a second later wondered if it was a mean thing to think.

“Mum and Dad told me about…” He swallowed. “About the whole thing. Not the whole whole thing, obviously, there’s always stuff they don’t tell me because I’m a kid and I shouldn’t… You know.”

Ferguson nodded vaguely, still silent. Alex wished he would say something, anything; but he also knew from experience that sometimes, for whatever reason – when you were ill, or shocked, or just too sad – words just… stopped.

His gaze dropped and fell on the rucksack lying on the ground. The top wasn’t fastened and something stuck out, something big and dark in the shape of a rough rectangle.

“What’s that?” Alex asked, natural curiosity – always bubbling near the surface – rising again despite everything. Ferguson gave a small shrug. Alex interpreted it as permission to get a closer look.

Whatever it was, it was heavy, and it was filthy. It appeared to be some sort of tablet wrapped in a kind of dark, sticky crust; when Alex picked at the goo some of it crumbled under his fingers like caked mud. Some of it had already been scraped away on one side, exposing hieroglyphs. Alex conscientiously finished the job, gingerly and patiently, like his parents had taught him, and when he was done cleaning the tablet he stared at the engraved words and tried to make sense of them.

Followers… of the Ruler of… the West…

His heart seemed to stop and start again, only much, much faster. He knew those words. He had seen those words. In fact, he had not even needed to translate them at the time, because, thanks to the Bracelet of Anubis, one glance at the hieroglyphs had spelled it out in his head as though it was written in English.

Followers of the Ruler of the West who are stretched out on your side, lying on your biers, may your flesh rise up, may your bones be put together…4

Alex’s head started to spin, the familiar words dancing in front of his eyes like bright spots when he got up too quickly. It couldn’t be possible. It was too fantastic…

He grabbed the tablet with both hands and shook the rucksack from it. The weight was just as he remembered. The eight-pronged star-shaped lock was barely visible on the cover; the two fasteners shaped like serpents’ heads he had seen Imhotep open with a wave of his hand were bent to the sides, twisted, mangled. Alex reached with a trembling hand, and, holding his breath, sank his fingers into the thick muck on the edge.

He found the edge of a page, and turned it.

The Book of the Dead lay open in his arms.

“Bloody hell,” Alex breathed.

This got Ferguson’s attention. He looked up at Alex, frowning.

“Are you okay?” he asked, his voice a little croaky.

Alex jumped to his feet and turned to him, still open-mouthed and his eyes open so wide it almost hurt.

“Where…? How…?” No, wait, that wasn’t important. “Do you know what this is!?”

Ferguson blinked. “Not really,” he said. “I thought it had somethin’ to do with the Scorpion King when I picked it up. Then we got attacked, and…” He took a deep breath, rubbed his eyes with the tips of his fingers, and finished, “I just kind of forgot about it. Why?”

“Because it’s the Book of the Dead!” Alex squeaked. “The actual Book of the Dead! Do you have any idea what it can do?”

Ferguson shook his head mutely. Alex stood there, the book in his hands, positively vibrating with excitement.

“It means we can get Uncle Jon back!”

Ferguson’s jaw dropped open.

“…No,” he said, but Alex noticed his head went up and down instead of side to side. “No, wait – that’s not – how –”

“I don’t know how, that’s the magic part, but it works. It works. I brought back my mum with it when Anck-su-namun killed her.”

Ferguson was still staring at the book, brown eyes bugging out. “Your mother… but… Didn’t your mother wake up Imhotep with that book?”

Alex refrained the urge to roll his eyes. Grownups were so slow sometimes.

“Yes,” he said as patiently as he could, “but that was another spell. And she found it at random – she wasn’t looking for anything in particular. I know where the correct spell is, I’ve used it before. I can bring Uncle Jon back!”

He tottered closer to Ferguson, plopped down next to him, and slammed the book on the carpet. Ferguson started at the thump. Alex ignored him and turned the pages, following hieroglyphs with his finger to decipher them until –

There.

He had found it.

And this time, he ruddy well remembered that darn Ahmenophus stork symbol.

The cold anguish nestled in his chest since the morning had turned into a ball of fire that almost took his breath away. It could work. It should work. It had to work.

Ferguson inched closer, staring down at the book.

“But what if… What if it’s too late?” he asked quietly. “What if… I mean, what if he comes back wrong? Or doesn’t come back at all? What if you call somethin’ else?”

The question froze Alex in his tracks and made him feel as though someone had dipped a bucket of ice over him. Maybe Ferguson was right. Maybe it was too late. When he had brought back his mum, only an hour or two had passed since her death. How much time had it been since sunrise?

The ice in Alex’s heart turned to steel. He had the book. Uncle Jon was right there. He just couldn’t at least try.

He took a long, deep breath, and began to read.

O you who keep the gates because of Osiris, I know you and I know your names…5

The Ancient Egyptian words came out slowly, carefully, a little more strongly than they had two years ago. Alex was slightly more certain of his pronunciation this time and he had nothing to distract him – no evil lady trying to deprive him of yet more family members, no weird half-scorpion creature rising from the dead and beating up his dad a few chambers farther. There was only his uncle’s body, somewhere under that blanket. The only other living being was a man who had been an enemy and wasn’t yet a friend, but who mourned like Alex had mourned, and stared at him with eyes as big as saucers and a tiny, wobbling hope.

Alex read on, plodding through the now familiar words.

…Enter the mysterious vault to breathe life into the Weary of Heart, he who sleeps on his left side. Awake the sleeper, so Amun is pleased!6

Alex practically crowed the last “Efday shokran Ahmenophus” and his eyes jumped from the book to the body, his heart hammering in his chest. Beside him, he heard Ferguson’s breath catch.

Tiny pinpricks of light rose from the sand around them, as though picked up by a wind Alex couldn’t feel. Gradually they clustered together in a bright, swirling mass above them, gathering speed, soaking the inside of the tent in warm, amber-coloured light. The blob of light grew thinner and longer and slowly descended before gently settling down through the blanket on the body underneath.

Alex and Ferguson gulped and looked at each other.

Every single one of Ferguson’s “what ifs” was suddenly running through Alex’s mind, bolstered with others and crowding his brain. What if he had read wrong? What if he had mispronounced a symbol? What if –

The blanket trembled, then fell as something that looked very much like a mummy sat up abruptly with a muffled scream.

Ferguson gave a startled yelp.

And despite everything – or perhaps because of everything, and because he was still a tired, sad, and scared ten year old boy – Alex couldn’t help it.

He screamed, too.

.⅋.

1“sweetie”

2Egyptian sweet biscuit / butter cookie, similar to shortbread, often topped with roasted almonds.

3Sa‘idi (literally “from Upper Egypt”) tea is a strong black tea popular in Upper (southern) Egypt, that has to have much more sugar not to taste bitter. Contrast with kushari tea (which is also the name of a pasta, rice, and lentil dish), a light black tea, lightly sweetened, popular in Lower Egypt, and what Abbas was drinking with Tom in chapter 10.

4Followers of the Ruler of the West who are stretched out on their side, lying on their biers, may your flesh rise up, may your bones be put together: that’s not from the Book of the Dead, but from the Book of Gates, an Ancient Egyptian funerary text describing the passage of a soul through the Underworld (with a different goddess at each Gate). I cheated.

5From the Book of the Dead, spell 144. The Tutankhamun exhibition was instructive in more ways than one.

6Okay, this is a hodgepodge of excerpts from the Book of the Dead (the real-world one) and enough tweaking and piecing together to give any student of Egyptology reading this a heart attack. “The sleeper awakes, Osiris-Khentamentiu awakes here with his ka, he who sleeps on his left side, the sleeper!” is from spell 517 (the aforementioned “sleeper” who “sleeps on his left side” – a symbol for death – being the deceased); “I cause Ra to enter Osiris, I cause Osiris to enter Ra. I cause him to enter the mysterious vault, so as to breathe life into the Weary of Heart, the sheltered ba who is in the West” is from spell 182. And the Amun thing? Well, “Amenophis” was the Greek version of the Ancient Egyptian name “Amenhotep”, which means “Amun is pleased”. My own interpretation of the “ahmenophus” that concludes both Jonathan’s inscription in TM and the spell that wakes up Evy in TMR. Told you, heart attacks :D

#Fairy Tales and Hokum #my stuff #fanfiction #the mummy films

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