In Ian McAndrew's speech he says "that was a complete surprise, I though you were in uh... you know... [Pause] in a place accross the channel" the use of "a place" and the hesitation trying to find the words rather than simply saying "I thought you were at home," could point to Alex working on something. In a studio maybe? This could be far fetched but it has me thinking.
Is Alex Turner working on an album with Ian McAndrew?
It seems odd that Alex presents his manager an award for music contribution whilst TAOTU and songs from AM play in the background, and then Ian proceeds to announce that he's working on an album with multiple artists, which will be produced by James Ford (Arctic Monkeys producer). AND that the album will make contributions to War Child, a charity what Arctic Monkeys commonly work with. There was always that company update early in the year too, but that could mean jack shit.
Matt's recent posts could be involved... Or maybe not... Only time can tell! (Or insiders later on LOL)
I'm trying not to get my hopes up considering the nonstop disappointment the last couple of years, but is it possible? Thoughts?
I genuinely and wholeheartedly hate fan accounts that constantly bash girlfriends/exs of male celebrities!!
My posts are still being used to drag Alexa Chung over a DECADE after her relationship with Alex Turner ended. It's infuriating and horribly misogynistic. You don't gain anything from hating on women all day in the name of "gossip". It's just pure jealousy.
In 2022 when this song was first performed live prior to the album's release, I wrote this analysis of the lyrics. It's all on Genius lyrics as annotations but I wanted to put it permanently here in case it ever gets edited or deleted. My analysis was disproven by Matt Helders and Alex Turner themselves in this interview (4:40 onwards) however I believe it is still a decent interpretation. This will only be discussing Mr Schwartz through Delmore Schwartz.
Note that I wrote this 2 years ago and am barely editing it for this post, my 15 year old mind was not very smart, so it's clunky. I'm only posting this for myself.
Notable context: one of Alex Turner's playlists is titled "Del Schwartz" (short for Delmore Schwartz)
The song title and recurring character “Mr. Schwartz” makes reference to “Delmore Schwartz” an American poet. Delmore Schwartz had, according to his friends, gone into hiding for a year before dying alone from a heart attack as a result of his drugs and alcohol addiction.
The first line “Put your heavy metal to the test” is a play on words. A heavy metal test examines the levels of metal in your blood stream (e.g. mercury, arsenic). There is known to be metal contamination in illicit drugs (a recurring theme of the song is alcohol and drug usage, as seen in Mr. Schwartz, Delmore Schwartz’s death.
“There might be half a love song in it all for you.”
If you only write someone half a love song, you aren’t really that in love with them are you? This could also be critique on people looking to deep into lyrics, trying to find something about love to relate to, or want to relate to.
"Smudging dubbing on your dancing shoes."
This could be commentary on “fans” wanting Arctic Monkeys to return to their old sound (debut album track, Dancing Shoes) A lot of fans were taken back by the new direction of the band with Tranquility Base Hotel and Casino, and disappointed that The Car is a continuation of that. The audience thinks they’re entitled to what kind of music the band makes, but they wont (and can’t) make the same music forever. The line is talking about fans wanting them to return to their old style, which won’t happen.
"if we guess who I'm pretending to be do we win a prize? Having attempted twice both incorrectly do we get a third try?"
These lines talk about insecurity. The persona is masking himself to be someone else for the view of others.
However it could also be the complete opposite, that Alex is showing the real him, but people (the audience) insist on saying he isn’t, as if he’s “pretending and forcing himself to act to fit the perception of himself for others," when he is not. This could be commentary on how fans talk about him, acting as if they know him. They keep guessing incorrectly, because who he shows himself to be, is the real him.
The bridge: “If we guess who I’m pretending to be, do we win a prize? Having attempted twice, both incorrectly. Do we get a third try?” is written from the perspective of the audience.
"The gloved hands reaching in to hit the switch. There's not one god damn thing that you can do about it."
The line “hit the switch” is referring to the peripeteia (The point of no return, something that someone does which seals their fate, and are usually destined to die.) of this character’s story. “There’s not one god damn thing you can do about this” makes a referral to the characters peripeteia.
Given the references throughout the song to the poet Delmore Schwartz we can assume that this line is referring to over-use of drugs and alcohol. This line isn’t directly referencing Delmore Schwartz, and is instead is talking about anyone the narrator is close with (or not) struggling with these issues. There’s only so much you can do to help someone who has gone to deep, and instead your forced to watch that persons life get cut short. You can try to help, but in most cases it’s fruitless. The narrator struggles with the realization that there’s nothing he can do to help the inevitable, whether it be this, in relation to Delmore Schwartz, death as whole, or something else entirely.
This is basically a long winded and pretentious way of saying "I think the song is about Delmore Schwartz" that I wrote when I was 15. It's not good and it's a bit embarrassing to post here but I want to keep it up somewhere. Not looking for critique, I'd write it differently now.
I went frame by frame through the Until Dawn film first look, heres what i noticed!
• part one!
First and foremost i could be wrong about literally everything, these are just theories, guesses and ideas!
• The miners
• there are various references to miners in the abandoned location that the film is going to take place in. first and foremost, the display of tools over the fireplace, then a missing poster with what i assume is a miner due to the helmet with a torch, and an obscured logo/ image, in which you can see a pick axe. This is of course very reminiscent of the miners who were trapped in the mines on blackwood mountain in 1952, the survivors of the cave in who resorted to cannibalism were then kept in the sanatorium, and then began to change into Wendigos. Whether this indicates that the film will include the Wendigos i’m still not too sure.
• Styling choices
• the skirt that the character ‘Megan’ is wearing appears to be very similar to the red ruffled skirt Sam wears in the beginning of the game! This is surely and on purpose reference and i love to see it. The bracelets on her wrist also feel reminiscent of the bracelets Sam wears too.
• not too sure how i feel about the rest of the styling choices however, i feel like the outfits in game were very distinctive in capturing each characters vibe and being very fitting for the time its set in, while these feel a little more plain, but that could just be me.
• this could be a reach, but the locket that Clover wears reminds me of Hannahs locket that holds the picture of her and Beth. I wonder if clover has a picture of her sister Melanie in there?
• Location
• we are definitely not in Alberta, Canada anymore! No tall mountains or snowy landscapes. The centrepiece location for this film is very different to the Washington’s lodge in both place and aesthetic. A map in the background of this shot appears to say Pennsylvania, (i could be wrong, its very blurry) but that doesn’t entirely mean the film is set in Pennsylvania, as the wiki page for the film says it was filmed in Budapest, though i do believe it is probably set somewhere in America.
Steven Grant’s Night At The National Art Gallery, London.
[Summary] - Steven Grant gets moved to the night shift at the national art gallery. Coincidentally a new exhibit that arrived that day gives the museum new life at night.
[Tags] - NATM AU, Steven Grant is a history nerd, not a self insert fic, sfw, movie accurate shenanigans and silliness..
[W/C] - 4,843.
Steven was late, again. He's late more days than on time, today was just another notch in a long line of overslept mornings and frantic apologies. Donna was going to kill him this time, he was sure of it, he thinks as he sprints up the stone steps of the national art gallery. He stumbled on the last step, still slick with rain water. He slips one shoulder of his backpack off, shoving his carry cup into the mesh cup holder.
“Mornin, Scotty,” J.B says, not sparing him a glance, eyes buried in what is most definitely a cute otter video compilation. This is how most days go. Steven wakes up late, chases down the bus, runs into work like a sorry sod, greeted by J.B and his otter videos and chastised by Donna. Speaking of.
“Stevie! Here. now.” Donna leered at him, then turned around, headed for the inventory room. Steven took a deep breath in, squeezing his eyes shut before he followed.
“Unbelievable. I don't know why you even bother showing up at all.” she crossed her arms.
“Look, Donna im so sorry, the bus-”
“Oh, save it Stevie!” she interrupted him. He closed his mouth for a moment before speaking.
“Am I on inventory?” he said in a defeated voice, looking around the room. She sighed greatly.
“Worse, I've been speaking to the brass, they wanna change your hours. You’re off the till, stevie. Graveyard as a guard, starting tonight.” his heart sank. When he got the job he was excited to be close to history, despite being appointed to the gift shop. He had this idea that he could build his way up and out, do tour groups and what not. But all he’s seemed to do is fall five steps back. He’s been doing this long enough to know that there was no use arguing.
“Your shift starts at 6pm, on the dot. I'm assuming this suits your… hours.” Donna said, “this is your last chance Stevie.” he nodded, avoiding her stare.
“So do I just go home or…” he mumbled awkwardly.
“I dont give a rat's ass what you do, just don't be late tonight! Their installing a new exhibit, real valuable. Been kept at the Egyptology department at cambridge. And i'm not talking a wax figure.” Stevens' ears pricked at that. He heard news of this new exhibit a few weeks prior, most notably the sarcophagus containing the prince Ahkemrah. The Egyptian exhibits always did well with the public and drawing in visitors, so it was no surprise they arranged for this. But still, a Pharaoh, in this very building! Much less, Ahkmenrah, who’s life was incredibly interesting. Youngest Pharaoh, other than Tutenkamun, at around 18 ascended to the throne, by-passing his older brother at the orders of their parents. Was murdered shortly after in very Hamlet-like events, by his older brother for the throne, beginning the reign of Kahmunrah The Bloodthirsty. Oh, the things Steven would ask Ahkmenrah if he could.
- 𓋿 𓌅 -
While Donna said it to be facetious, a night guard shift actually did suit Stevens hours. As an intensive sleepwalker, he spent most of his nights fighting to stay awake and avoid feeling like he’d been hit by a bus the next morning. This job would be convenient in that sense, he thought. He turned up to the Museum, backpack filled with various books and puzzles to help stave off drowsiness. Donna pointed him to his new ‘base of operations,’ as she called it. A small room with a locker for his things and a new uniform. He shrugged the black jacket on, slipping his name badge into the chest pocket. He fastened a ring of keys to his hip alongside a heavy duty flashlight in its own holster. He felt proper professional, he had to admit. He followed Donna to the entrance, wishing her a goodnight and locking the door behind her. He whistled, facing the empty museum. It had sort of a spooky feel to it, all vacant, he thought. Steven walked by the exhibits he sees every day, fiddling with the keys on his belt. As he walked, his nerves filtered away, being replaced by a sense of peacefulness. The quiet was nice, no giant groups of people or screaming kids who treat the pyramid of Giza display like a rubbish dump. He was very familiar with the Egypt exhibits, them being the reason he wanted to work here in the first place. He's looked at all of them many times, most of which the ones visible from his place at the till. But now that he's strolling freely, he supposed there were other exhibits he’d neglected for not really piquing his interest. Doing his rounds, he peered into the miniature rome, and next door the similarly sized wild west. Steven stopped to look at a very valorous wax figure of President Theadore Roosevelt atop his horse, Little Texas, as he pointed his blade to the sky in a triumphant pose of victory.
“Sir- or uh, President,” he cleared his throat awkwardly, giving a clumsy salute to the wax figure before sighing to himself, “what am i doing, glad no ones around to see that.” he said as he hurried off. A couple of cavemen, Huns, various taxidermy animals. Sacagawea stood staring out of her glass case, frozen in time. So much history housed in this one building, it amazed Steven. It was then he remembered, the new exhibit must’ve arrived earlier today. Excitement rushed through him and he made a beeline back to the ancient Egypt section. Down a hall, turn a corner. A completely redecorated room for the pharaoh.
The room itself was covered top to bottom in hieroglyphics. four columns, two on each side of the room towered over steven. Between the two columns, on each side as well stood tall statues of anubis. Stevens' jaw dropped as he gazed up at the giants.
“Look at you!” he gushed, craning his neck.
‘Found in the pharaoh, Ahkmenrah's final resting place, the statues of Anubis are thought to be protectors of the dead and guardians of graves.’ read a plaque at the foot of the god. Behind each Anubis, were cabinets of various treasures that were also kept in Ahkmenrah’s tomb. Steven spent a long stretch of time just looking each piece over, examining with awe and fierce attention to detail. Once the room was fully explored, only then did Steven delve deeper to the next room, past the Anubis, who had a presence like they really were watching Steven. The sarcophagus itself was concealed in a glass box topped off by a stone slab, and further lined off by rope. The room was dimly lit with warm lighting, creating a mysterious and alluring atmosphere. Steven was transfixed, walking slowly to take it all in. shiny gold and dark blue detailing coated the casket. The carved face of a pharaoh stared back at him, arms crossed over his chest, hands clutching the heka and nekhakha, also known as the crook and flail. Dark blue striped across his nemes and at the forehead sat the golden cobra centerpiece, signifying nobility.
“Wow, incredible” Steven whispered under his breath as he studied the sarcophagus. A glint of light flashed over his face. He flinched and closed his eyes on reflex. He rubbed his eye and grimaced. Slowly he opened his eyes again, attention captured by the golden tablet fixed to the wall behind the sarcophagus. His face fell as the thing appeared to glow more and more with every second.
“Now hold on, what's this then?” Steven stalked closer carefully, a face of disbelief. The hieroglyphics engraved in the gold shone brightly, illuminated by a light source with no discernible origin. The light dissipated, leaving Steven staring at the tablet in silence. The absence of sound was no longer peaceful. Instead chilling, as fear began to slither up Steven's spine. You could hear a pin drop. But the sound Stevens ears picked up on was far more frightening. A breath, in and then out. Quiet, almost unnoticeable at first. He could have mistaken it for his own if he wasn’t holding his, terrified whatever he could hear would be able to hear him too. It only now occurred to him, that as the night guard, it was his job to investigate any hint of someone being in the museum after hours. It also just occurred to him that he may not be brave enough for this job. The mysterious breaths quickened, they began to sound panicked. Was someone in trouble? His fear was momentarily overpowered by the idea of someone needing help, but any bravery was quelled by the sarcophagus in front of him beginning to shudder. The movement caused Steven to jump, a yelp involuntarily escaping his mouth. In response the shuddering became more violent, and a voice erupted out. Blood curdling screams forced their way out, the volume muffled by the panels of glass and casket top, but that did little to water down the franticness of their voice. Steven's hands pressed to his own mouth as he stood frozen for a moment.
“Hello!” he shouted meekly. Whoever was in there seemed to hear, but instead of responding they just screamed louder, more desperately. The voice was haunting, willing Steven into action. He lurched forward, planting his cold sweat covered hands onto the stone top.
“Hold on! I'm gonna get you out of there!” He braced and pushed as hard as he could, groaning with effort. With a shove, the slab finally gave way, allowing Steven to slide it off completely. It clanged on the floor with a loud bang. Steven reached in, pulling the pin out of the loops, then ran around to the other side to do the same. As soon as the last pin was yanked out, the top of the casket came flying off. Steven jumped back with a screech. His body shook as his eyes locked onto a hand gripping the side of the sarcophagus that had emerged from inside. The hand tightened, and a body wrapped in strips of aged white linen, its colour dirtied over time, pulled itself up. Steven didn’t know what he was expecting to be inside of the sarcophagus, but an actual mummy was not one of them. The mummy’s shoulders trembled as they caught their breath, head turning gradually. Steven tried to retreat slowly, his back thudding loudly against the wall unceremoniously. At the sound, the mummy’s head jerked. They began to stand slowly, hands reaching for their head, tearing at the fabric. Steven felt a scream begin to build in his throat, only for the sound to be halted by pure shock as the mummy’s true face was revealed. The fabric pulled apart with ease, the sound of tearing ripped through the silence. It was the face of a boy in his teenage years. His face soft and lightly caked in dust. He coughed and sputtered, dirt shooting out of his mouth and floating in the air. The realisation of who this was hit Steven like a bag of bricks. His features were youthful, as if he was rendered untouched by time in the sarcophagus. His blue eyes found Steven, lips parting in a smile.
“Thank you! You will not believe how stuffy it is in there!” he said cheerfully, in a notably posh accent. Steven gaped back, unmoving from his place against the wall.
“I am forever in your debt!” the pharaoh walked up to Steven, beaming, “Don't be afraid, my friend! I am Ahkmenrah! Fourth king of the fourth king! Ruler of the land of my fathers.” Steven cleared his throat before answering.
“Yes I, I gathered that. Please don't uh, take this the wrong way or anything, your highness, but why are you, alive? Or I guess I should say how, right, yea?” he stuttered through the sentence. Ahkmenrah smiled again.
“I take no offense! You see my tablet,” he trotted to the previously glowing artifact, tracing his fingers over its etchings, “my parents forged it as a gift for me, then called upon Khonshu to bless it, granting me the power of immortality!” he turned around to face Steven with a flourish.
“Khonshu? Protectors of the travellers of the night, god of the night?” Steven could hardly believe the words as he said them, “he’s real?”
“You are well versed, my friend! And of course, if he wasn’t, I wouldn't be talking to you 3000 years after my death now would i!” Steven swallowed, his throat completely dry.
“Oh my god, I've finally lost it! I’ve gone bonkers…” Steven turns his back on the pharaoh, beginning to walk out of the exhibit clutching his head.
“My friend, wait!” Ahkmenrah tailed him eagerly, stopping him by putting a hand on his shoulder, “you are not mad, i swear to you.” Steven glared.
“Why are you speaking english? Only in a fever dream would an Egyptian ruler be speaking english!” he shot at the other.
“I learnt it at Cambridge, they had me on display outside of my sarcophagus in glass, still mummified of course, but that way I could still hear every word they spoke. Please my friend, you must believe me! And there's another thing you ought to know, it's urgent, please heed my call!” Every instinct in Steven’s body told him this was a crazed dream, that he’s slept in and he's currently unbelievably late for his shift. But the boy in front of him had a conviction he couldn't ignore, and his hand on his shoulder felt all too real.
“Alright then, what is it?”
“Well it's, a bit much. Brace yourself, er, what's your name?”
“Uh, Steven Grant, with a V. I'm the night guard. just Steven’s fine.”
“Well, Steven with a V, guard of the night, my tablet brings me life, but I am not alone in being touched by its power! Everything in this museum is currently waking up for the first time, given life by the blessing of Khonshu.” Steven wanted to lie down. His head began to throb as recounted just how many exhibits were housed at this very building. Anxiety flowed through his body as he imagined the possibility of them finding their way outside, or wreaking havoc inside. He imagined their confusion must parallel his own, waking for the first time ever.
“Steven, my friend. I can see how this has sparked fear inside you. But you have a duty, a title to uphold! Guard of the night, the same title afforded to Khonshu, guardian of the night time travellers, you must ensure peace on your grounds! We must go now!” Ahkmenrah roused Steven into action! He began to nod, feeling empowered enough to not be lost in the chaos, to not be a bystander while historical relics are awoken.
“yea, alright.” Steven replied, out of breath.
“Good! Now, we must rally allies, and address the people! Let them know it's alright. You know the land better than I, can you think of anyone we should encourage to accompany us?” Steven's head went into a blur of white noise for a moment till it settled into a firm obvious answer.
“President Theadore Roosevelt!” Steven said, and then continued when the pharaoh was not moved, momentarily forgetting that of course Ahkmenrah would have no knowledge of who that was, or is, “he was a ruler of America, I guess you could say. If there's anyone who should be on our side it's him!” Ahkmenrah broke into a wide grin.
“Perfect! We must go at once, but first, i must be out of these rags.” Steven began to look around for something for the king to wear, but was stopped when he saw Ahkmenrah grab at his chest, ripping the dusty fabric off, revealing underneath a glamorous wesekh. The broad collar stretched across the top half of his chest, adorned by rows of blue beads and one row of a bronze colour, the edge row a shimmering gold. The pharaoh continued to tear off the linen, revealing extravagant clothing. On his bottom half he wore a long blue and orange detailed Shendyt skirt. Draping off his shoulders was a floor length orange cloak. Steven was enamoured by the historic, cultural clothing, kept in such pristine condition all these years. The craftsmanship was incredible, the pride in which is taken in the clothing of that time, just incredible. But there were unfortunately more pressing matters preventing Steven from asking the king 1000 questions on ancient Egyptian dressmaking techniques and culture.
“All finished, your highness?” Steven probed carefully.
“Almost, one more thing to do.” he jogged out of the exhibit, to the room with the Anubis statues. Upon seeing him, the statues rose to attention, crouching down and peering at him, looking over him carefully. Steven gawked at the sight, seeing stone spring to life.
“Thank you my guardians, i'm quite alright.” he assured them, hand on his chest. The statues turned their snouts to Steven, suddenly aware of his presence and brandished their spears towards him. He flinched and raised his open hands.
“No! He's a friend!” Ahkmenrah defended, nodding when they relaxed back to their standing position. The boy slipped behind them to the glass cases of various artifacts, beckoning Steven over with a jerk of the head.
“Steven, if you would please unlock this, and bestow upon me my Deshret.”
- 𓋿 𓌅 -
The two of them ran through the halls, eyes peeled for the president on his trusty steed and trying not to get sidetracked by whoever was roaming the halls.
“Steven, have you any idea where this Ruler Roosevelt could have gone off to?” Ahkmenrah asked when they arrived at the spot the president should have been standing. Steven chewed on his lip anxiously.
“Well, Theodore was a hunter, yeah? So, I'm guessing he’s doing what he's good at. In that case, he’s probably tracking down some of the taxidermy.” Ahkmenrah grinned.
“Brilliant steven, lead the way, guard!” The two set off, but were stopped nearly as soon as they started, just narrowly dodging a miniature ball of flame. More followed, nicking Stevens shoulder. The source of the onslaught originated from the miniature worlds, more specifically the model of Rome.
“Oi! Not cool!” Steven pointed at their leader, distinguishable from the others by the red frill on his galea. And the fact that he was barking orders every which way.
“We will defeat you! Great creatures! Fire!” Steven sighed and bent over into the exhibit, giving the little balls of flame in the catapults a harsh blow, extinguishing the fire immediately.
“There, now can we just talk about this? I know you're confused, but violence will get us nowhere.” Steven said with his hands on his hips, chastising the little angry romans.
“Great gods, he’s foiled our attack!”
“But not ours!” a southern voice shouted from behind. Suddenly a rope clasped around Steven’s pinkie.
“Heave goddamn it! Heave!” Steven looked over his shoulder, seeing all of the wild west miniatures out of their exhibit and pulling on the rope ensnaring his finger.
“Really? You guys really think this is gonna work?” Steven crouched down, addressing the posse, “Look, we don't have time for this, but i’ll be back, behave in the meantime!” he snapped the rope, taking off down the hall, Ahkmenrah following closely behind.
- 𓋿 𓌅 -
They made a beeline for the closest taxidermy exhibits, neither of them sure if it was a good thing that the deadly predators were nowhere to be seen. Walking carefully, they surveyed the scene. Leaves rustled, and the sound of scampering was all around them. Something was following them, something not big enough to be the president's horse, or any carnivores of note. No, whatever was following was small, but agile. Before Steven knew it, it was running up his leg, swiping his flashlight and climbing up a faux tree decoration. He glared, vision catching on to a dastardly little monkey. Steven balled up his hands into fists. This night was really getting on his nerves.
“You! Give that back right now!” Steven marched up to the tree, pointing a finger at the monkey. When he got close, the critter pointed the flashlight at his face, flicking the light on and into his eyes. Steven hissed, rubbing his eyes. The monkey responded with a series of chirps, seemingly amused by his pain.
“Are you having a laugh!” he growled, exasperated, before beginning to shake the fake tree with the power of a man on a mission.
“Good god man!” an unfamiliar voice intruded, “have you lost your senses!” Steven whipped around, finding himself nose to nose with a chestnut horse. He shifted out of the horse's face, meeting its rider's eye.
“President Roosevelt! Oh my god we have been looking everywhere for you!” he sighed with relief, “we could really use your help.”
“With the monkey?”
“Oh, I guess that too but i more meant-”
“No worries my boy. All you need is to show this little creature some compassion. Please, may I have the torch, little one?” he held his hand out invitingly and surprisingly the monkey responded, giving the torch back with no resistance. The president then handed the flashlight back to Steven with a grin.
“Oh thanks for that, I'm Steven Grant, by the way. I'm the night guard at this museum.”
“Theadore Roosevelt, 26th president of the United States of America at your service!” he outstretched his hand, giving Steven a very firm and confident handshake.
“I am Ahkmenrah, Fourth King of the Fourth King! Ruler of the land of my fathers!” Ahkmenrah recited formally, shaking the president's hand as well.
“Steven, you said you work here? I have a query if it doesn’t trouble you. What, in fact, is going on?” Theadore asked in a remarkably polite manner. Steven nodded, biting his lip.
“Well sir, there's really no easy way to say this, yeah? But you see… you're a wax figure, come to life. This pharaoh was transferred to this museum today and he's got a wicked tablet, blessed by the moon god that basically allows him to cheat death at night. Thing is, it also brings everything else in this museum to life.” Steven grimaced. Theadore looked lost in thought for a moment, turning the information over in his head. All too quickly, he nodded and seemed to accept the insane information in his stride.
“Right then! You said you needed my help? I assume in wrangling the people and creatures of this museum, spreading the truth and preventing chaos.” he said matter of factly. Steven, still taken aback from his rapid understanding and acceptance of the events, nodded awkwardly.
“Yeah, that's about it yeah.”
“Right then, I shall begin crisis management, while you two ensure the truth is divulged to the whole museum! Yah!” he shouted, Little Tex rearing up dramatically before taking off in a powerful canter down the hall.
“You were right Steven, he is very much a powerful ally.” Ahkmenrah affirmed.
“Yea he’s wicked right.. But how are we going to reach out to the whole museum? That's basically impossible, this place is huge." Steven rubbed his temples, “we need to make an announcement,” he gasped suddenly, the noise making Ahkmenrah jump.
“We can use the intercom! It can broadcast to every room!”
“Brilliant steven! What is an intercom!”
- 𓋿 𓌅 -
The two raced to the main entrance. Steven found himself at the till. This he was quite familiar with, having to call parents to collect their lost children over the intercom more than once. He swiveled the mic towards him, reaching to press the button but faltering.
“Oh god, I don't know what to say. What do i tell them? Ahkmenrah, you're a pharaoh, you’ve had to address the people before, can you do it?” Steven stammers frantically, anxiety crawling up his throat. Ahkemnrah smiled softly.
“Steven, it has to be you. You are our guard of the night, it's you the people must hear from.” he reaffirms gently, “just speak from the heart.” Steven squeezes his eyes shut. Today has been like no other. He pushed the button down.
“Hello? Hello everyone. I'm Steven, the night guard. I'm meant to be looking out for you lot. I know you’re all probably confused, and scared. You woke up tonight, having no idea what's going on. And let me tell you, the feeling is mutual. What I'm about to say is tough but it's true. You are all exhibits in a museum, brought to life by ancient Egyptian magic. And I know you feel tied to responsibilities from your old lives that you remember, like ruling a nation, or discovering new land and resources. But you have a new responsibility now okay? And that is to inspire, and educate. People come from all over to see the knowledge and history held in museums. You are that knowledge. So I urge you, please, please, don’t cause fights, don't create a mess. Take care of this place, and each other.” Steven exhaled, his head reeling. Ahkmenrah patted him on the back, his face in a big smile.
“Oh! One more thing!” the pharaoh suddenly said, pressing the button. “Hello, yes, one more thing of great importance! I am Ahkmenrah, Fourth King of the Fourth King! Ruler of-” Steven taps him on the shoulder, signalling him to get on with it.
“Ah yes, ahem, it is imperative that no one is ever to leave the museum! The secret of this magic is one we must maintain if we are to be safe! Further, if you are outside when the sun rises, you will be turned to dust! Feel free to peacefully wander the halls at night, but ensure you are back in your rightful exhibit when the sun rises.” Ahkmenrah explains diligently. Steven smiled.
“Oh that's clever, cheeky but clever, a little lie to keep everyone inside.” Steven said in a playful tone.
“Oh it's not a lie Steven. Back at Cambridge, a scarab charm of mine weaseled out of the case they were in and snuck out a window as the sun was rising. He was reduced to ash in seconds.” Ahkmenrah said bluntly. Steven’s mouth opened in a horrified ‘oh’ shape as he digested the morbid information.
- 𓋿 𓌅 -
Steven, Ahkmenrah and Theadore did a lap of the whole museum, checking in on every corner of the building to ensure everyone was settling in and accepting their new way of life. There were a few hiccups, but nothing the three of them couldn't handle. The night grew closer and closer to the morning. The unexpected trio shepherded various people and animals back to their respective exhibits.
“Gentlemen! The morrow approaches. I'm grateful to be working beside such capable men, and I’ll rest easy under your watchful protection, Steven.” Theadore smiles ear to ear. Steven grins bashfully.
“Yea well, the feelings mutual. Thanks for all your help Mr president.”
“Please, call me Teddy. Well! Until tomorrow night. Good day!” and with one final smile, Little Texas turned round and trotted off. Steven huffed out a relaxed breath, meeting Ahkmerahs eye.
“C’mon, let's get you back.” They walked in comfortable silence. As they neared his exhibit, the young pharaoh spoke up.
“I knew I was being transferred to a museum, but when they put me back into my sarcophagus, I was terrified. I didn't know if I'd ever be let out again. When I woke tonight, still inside, it was too much. I panicked.” he turned to face Steven, an earnest, vulnerable look painting his features, “thank you again Steven, for letting me out.” he said, shaking his hand.
“Oh! No worries mate, yea i couldn’t leave you in there, screaming bloody murder and what not.” Steven said, examining the young boy’s face, hearing his terrified voice in his head. Poor thing. Ahkmenrah smiled softly, returning his Deshret to the glass cabinet. The two of them arrived at the Sarcophagus, the young pharaoh stopping just shy of its edge. Steven observed his perturbed face.
“Look, don't think of it as getting locked up. More like, going to bed, yeah?” He tried to comfort the boy. His blue eyes looked at him, panic barely kept under wraps displayed in them.
“Will you be here tomorrow night? To let me out?”
“Tomorrow night, and every night after.” Steven replied honestly, giving him a sincere smile, “trust me i’ve got like a million questions about ancient Egypt to ask you.” he joked to ease the tension, hoping his genuineness dispelled some of Ahkmenrah’s fear. He watched the Pharaoh take in a deep breath before clambering into the casket custom made for him.
“Goodnight Steven, guard of the night.” Ahkmenrah said, pulling his cloak around his shoulders.
“Night-night.” With the help of the two anubis guards doing the heavy lifting of the casket’s top and the stone slab, everything was back in its place as the first light hit the building. Steven smiled to himself, hopeful about his place at the museum.
Comments, likes and reblog’s are greatly appreciated xx✨
[A/N] - this is so much longer than I intended im so sorry. ik this fic is a bit random but the idea would not leave my head, and it was sooo fun to write. Tried to capture Stevens awkward manner and habit of talking to himself, it was quite tricky to write! Sorry there's no Marc or Jake in this. And yes i know, Ahk doesn’t find out about the secrets of the tablet till after he reunites with his parents, but a little canon divergence never hurt anyone. The crook and flail hieroglyphic paragraph dividers are not only a nod to the details on Ahkmenrah’s sarcophagus, but also to how Ahk, Teddy and Steven most of all assume a leadership role and help guide/shepherd everyone else in the museum.
This has got me thinking about a potential Ahkmenrah moon knight au, so like the exact opposite of this, but the draft i wrote up, storyline wise is a little too serious. it does not fit the tone of the original films and when you try to apply a serious tone to comedic characters, it by design points out the more gruesome sides of certain historical characters purposefully ignored by the original film… for example Ahk is a pharaoh, so realistically he would probably have some brutal ways of doing things and opinions that were standard practice for royalty in the middle kingdom, which i'm not sure if that suits the story i’d want to write about, does any of that make sense? Anyways, i can't decide if i should stick with what i’ve drafted up or think of a more light hearted storyline more in the same tone as the films, i’ll keep you posted!
