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[ishakzander]

[ishakzander]

sophiaigallo‌:

        sophia walked down the hall, her bare feet touching the cold tile as she walked. she kept taking the wrong turn & ending up in a creepy room before she finally found her way to the kitchen. now, it was just finding her way back to her & nova’s room. she opened one of the refrigerators before jumping at the sound of someone’s voice. “jesus christ,” she said, her brooklyn accent thick around the vowels. her hand moved & laid upon her beating heart. “your what? dvd?” sophia shook her head. “no, nah, nope, that ain’t normal – but wait..” she moved across the kitchen & leaned against the counter near the male. “..did it like shoot out or like levitate out, ‘cause big difference, ya know.” 

  “Oh, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you,” Ishak apologized, sincere. Grabbing a clean dish towel, he wiped a corner of the countertop, reminding himself that it was squeaky clean not long ago. How did that spot get on there? “Yes, a disc. It slid open or ejected, I guess?” He started off, “And then it shoots out to my right, landed on the floor, and I was too shocked to move. I mean, I don’t think my laptop has that kind of feature? I was watching a Golden Girls episode.” He doesn’t mention that when the disc flew out, the audio was still running. Oh, and there’s that picture of Harold and Anthony Crenshaw. “That’s not normal, do you think?”

[ishakzander]

mxrqucz‌:

there were many places in the manor that gabriel hadn’t checked out. it was so huge and there were so many people sometimes that he tried to spend most of his time outdoors, catching the moment with his camera. moving around, he took his time, letting his nose get a sniff of what was being made in the nearest room. his attention glanced over to a voice, letting an eyebrow raise in confusion. “that’s a very specific question to ask but no, not that i recall.” his head shook, nodding at the male in front of him. “no one really uses dvds that often anymore. i mean, streaming and blu ray is the way to go. why are you asking?” a smile moves onto his lips, not letting himself dwell on the question too much. this place was rumored to be haunted, after all and he had seen some things in the last few days. “gabriel, manor guest.” 

  Ishak nodded, listening carefully. “I thought I’d be specific because I was sure I wasn’t sitting near a fan or anything like that,” he elaborated, “the disc just flew away. I’ve never encountered anything like that.” Unless it was a poltergeist activity, and should he even bring this up? It might seem unprofessional. “Nice to meet you, Gabriel,” Ishak responded, smiling back. “How are you finding your stay here?” He asked, keeping the conversation upbeat. “Were you able to explore in and out of the manor? Did some sightseeing downtown?”

[ishakzander]

prevaricatcr‌:

he is…positively sauced now. which he feels he should be commended for actually, considering how many drinks it takes to get him well and truly inebriated at this point. it always feels like running a race when he’s starting from scratch; but this is one sport elliot has always excelled at. “like it—” he mimes spitting, like a old western cowboy. “—flew out of your drive like that?” his eyebrows make a waggling motion; taking a large healthy drink from the third bottle from the bar that he’d polished off. “as far as i know, i haven’t heard of anything like it.” he giggled to himself drunkenly and said, “your laptop wants you to watch a different movie, i guess.” he saluted with the hand holding the bottle, stumbling slightly and then taking a corrective step. “elliot….guest, professional life ruiner. i offer gentle negative vibes as well as deeply fucked up events.” he made as much of a bow as his current level of intoxication allowed. “good to meet you, chef.”

  “Literally flew out,” Ishak affirmed, “well, the drive slid open, and the disc flew out.” He couldn’t even remember if he went and grabbed the disc, put it back on the case. He was spooked, though the Golden Girls feature was fun, it was only a small portion that was the entire experience. “Is there anything better than Golden Girls?” He countered, smiling. It took Ishak a moment, recognizing Elliot Gallagher. Ever since the manor’s opening, he’s seen a handful of well-known people. Now whether it was, Toni’s doing or publicity in general, it’s good for business. “Glad to meet you Elliot—have you eaten anything?” Ishak offered, noticing the bottle in Elliot’s hand. He can hold off his assumed-paranormal experience for a different time. “I can make a plate for you.”

[ishakzander]

“Hi, quick question,” Ishak said, as a form of greeting, lingering in the kitchen after he’s checked on the freshly baked pieces of bread he just made. “Discs don’t really fly out of their drives out of the blue, you think?” That’s what happened to him when he found that DVD case and opened it out of curiosity. His laptop’s fine as well as the optical drive, but everything else he’s experienced? He’s concluded it was anything but ordinary. “It wouldn’t be a new feature or upgrade with DVDs?” He asked further, confused. He wasn’t the most tech-savvy, he runs and utilizes technology just fine. “Oh, and hello, I’m Ishak. I’m the pastry chef,” he introduced himself, offering a welcoming smile.

@manorstart​

[ishakzander]

[ living room ]

[ishakzander]

‹ RAMI MALEK, HE/HIM, CISMALE, ASEXUAL. ›  ISHAK ZANDER is the THIRTY-SEVEN year old THAT CAME TO beaver creek, colorado, hired to work as a PASTRY CHEF in the manor. when a friend asked them what they thought of the manor they said,  ❝ TO THE DEVIL WITH FALSE MODESTY. ❞ they claim CARRIE is their favorite scary movie, and if they were to die in a horror film they would HAVE SENT A GOODBYE VOICEMAIL TO THEIR FAMILY BEFORE BEING BURIED ALIVE. their fears include SUFFOCATION, HOSPITALS and SNAKES, and they don’t know we know, but… HE WAS INVOLVED IN A REVENGE PORN IN HIGH SCHOOL. ‹ STAFF OF THE MANOR, Pastry Chef. ›

hey hey hey! tis me again, aren, and i’m back with a second muse! and here we go...

STATS—

NAME: Ishak Khalil Zander BIRTHPLACE: Denver, Colorado HOMETOWN: Denver, Colorado DOB: September 28 ZODIAC: Libra AGE: 37 HEIGHT: 5’10 (1.78 m) WEIGHT: 70 kg (154 lbs) HAIR: Black EYES: Green S/R ORIENTATION: Asexual / Demiromantic OCCUPATION(S): Pastry chef. Sous chef (former). Executive pastry chef (former).

Name pronounced as EE-SHAK or ISH-AK.

Egyptian. With some Greek lineage.

Youngest of two; has an older brother.

Majored in Cultural Studies.

After graduating from college, he went and studied in Le Cordon Bleu in Paris, France.

Can speak fluent French, colloquial Egyptian-Arabic, basic Spanish.

An absolute optimist.

His five favorite food groups? Cake, chocolate, macaron, cheese and wine.

Believes in superstition.

200% foodie.

A perfectionist, especially when it comes to his craft.

Catch him snowboarding or hiking during his rare-free time/off days.

Awkward when it comes to technology.

Interned, worked for and was mentored by Wolfgang Puck.

Was the First Family’s executive pastry chef throughout President Obama’s term. (This totally happened in this universe OKAY.)

Then, he moved back to Denver, CO – reunited with his family, and worked as a pastry chef for The Mandalorian. (Yes, I borrowed this from SW but shhh it’s easier for me to remember lmao.)

Come 2018, a job post for the Crenshaw Manor was forwarded to him via email; the pastry chef position. He applied and was hired.

Despite his overall sunny, outgoing, positive disposition… he can be snappy (esp in the kitchen), snarky (don’t bad-mouth immigrants, ever), insensitive (refer to snappy lol).

He’s heard of all the ghost stories and lore concerning the Manor™. He will neither confirm nor deny, but he’s got lots to tell if you’re up for a good story (or some urban myths).

As for his secret, while he wasn’t present when the event took place, he was pressured and manipulated into posting the video online by people he, at the time, thought were his friends. A flagrant outcome, a divisive fallout, and disciplinary actions were taken.

FEARS

SUFFOCATION: He got locked up in a closet when he was little when the fear mounted (and it was dark) and suddenly, he was unable to breathe. HOSPITALS: While he can count the number of times he’s been in a hospital, most had to do with death. He’s lost a cousin, an uncle, a close friend and a co-worker. Want to know what these four have in common? They all died at precisely 3 AM yet different calendar dates and the cause of death were all undetermined. Oh, and mirrors were found shattered in the restrooms. SNAKES: Because they slither and crawl and no thank you fjkvjdfksfbnkj

BIO

Sometimes you watch old videos of yourself. The ones were taken by your older brother, by your mom. There’s something subjective about them, the camera angles, and the crisp sound, your own voice sounding so young. Your mom video calls every now and then when she’s not busy with the restaurant, you are in desperate need of a haircut or a shave, and when you see for yourself you call her back just to agree, to have that good ‘ol mother and son fun banter. You’re good friends with your dad, you’re his confidant. You look up to your brother because he’s quite the role model, he’s fun and witty and everything you’ve aspired to be.

Your childhood was good. You’re the son of Egyptian immigrants. Your father’s a biochemist, and your mother’s a chef; you clearly took after the latter, although you took a lot from the former, too. You’re appreciative and passionate about your roots, proud of your culture. You had good friends, participated in activities in and out of school.

High school was another world, you felt alienated for a season, had to adjust. But you found your place, found your friends. At least, you thought you did. You felt safe, well-liked, ever the social butterfly. Your brother warned you about certain friends, how they never felt right, how they looked at you differently. Of course, you elected to ignore his advice. And then something happened—

It wasn’t the same, you’ve changed. You grew up overnight, forced to face your demons and to deal. Your name was cleared, sure, and your family still loves you. Always have, and they never looked at you any different. They still trust you, they believe in you. Your real friends? They’re a small group, and they stayed—you’re thankful. You’re forgiven, but you’ll never forget. You went to a different high school once the semester’s ended.

College was fun. Your first fling, your first relationship, first drag of mary-jane, first unofficial cook-off. A lot of firsts. Oh, and apparently, you’re now a damn-good cook, quite the baker. One of your best friends questioned why you’re not pursuing Culinary Arts, and you jokingly told him it’s because you want to go to all the free parties and concerts first. You graduated with honors, your family’s proud. You feel good. Still, you felt unaccomplished.

Paris was something else. You wondered how you’ll fit in, how you’ll pull through. But you fucking did. Despite the odds, scheming, and competitive classmates. You’re on top of your class, lauded by your peers and teachers. That’s right, you’re feeling accomplished now.

You started off as a sous chef, a tall task. However, you’re excellent under pressure, you’re damn good at what you do. You’ve faced adversity (dissatisfied customers and foodies), felt a surge of pride (executive chefs and critiques praising your work), humbled (your family and roots are being credited for your skills, your upbringing).

Being the executive pastry chef for the First Family’s a highlight of your life. You didn’t think it was possible, but it happened. It was the First Lady who recommended you when she and her daughters dined at one of Wolfgang Puck’s restaurants. Up to this day, it still feels surreal.

You go back to Colorado once President Obama’s concluded his final term, full of sound and happy memories, friendships, an experience unlike any other. Then, you take up the pastry chef post for a well-known shop, the owner’s a family friend, and personally asked you to fill the spot.

Now comes a new chapter.

You’re now the pastry chef for the Crenshaw Manor. You’re familiar with the stories, the gossip, and everything else in between. You’re familiar with the silence, eerie, and bone-chilling. You hear the whispers, the voices. You’ve seen the figures, have photographic evidence. But you dare not disrupt the balance.

You follow the protocol because you value your post.

Wanted Connections

I don’t have anything specific fbsjjkvjkakbjka

Throw anything at me or let’s brain storm!

I also don’t kind going off chemistry and going with the flow!

Find me on disco or IM here!

[ishakzander]

dawn0fsanity‌:

Rami Malek [30/31]