#marcus abbot

[transfuserboxes]

can u make mark of a star character userboxes ?

but of COURSE!!!!!!!!!!!!

read mark of a star... crazy new pages coming out were so serious bruh were getting # PROFESSIONAL W IT!!! even if the um. currently posted pages are kinda ass.

...anyway

bonus!

[rt-lots]

I WAS MEANT TO FUCKING RAVE, AND DIE AN ICON!

(read mark of a star!)

[exacerbatty]

[greyjug]

Someone please write a fic of Abbot just casually and repeatedly mentioning Marcus pike's name in high regard to his superiors so that he could be promoted and moved to dc because he was interfering with his ship. Just Abbott offhandedly sowing the idea of moving away into Pike's head because he wanted him oUTT!! GONEEE!!!!

[romerona]

The Cook and The Teacher!

Let's pretend The Bear and Abbot Elementary are in the same city.

Another cute interaction between Carmen (Carmy) Berzatto x Abbot Teacher Femreader! Sunshinereader!

Carmy stood in the dimly lit laundry room, hands on his hips as he glared at the washing machine like it had personally wronged him. The display panel flashed erratically, like it was trying to send an SOS in Morse code, while a faint but concerning smell of burning plastic wafted through the air.

He let out a frustrated sigh, running a hand through his already disheveled hair. All he wanted was to wash his clothes—just one normal task in a sea of chaos. Apparently, even that was asking too much.

With a frustrated sigh, he muttered curses under his breath and gave the machine a half-hearted nudge with his foot, as if that might magically revive it. Spoiler alert: it didn’t. The machine remained defiantly lifeless.

“Wow. Bold strategy. Were you planning to wrestle it next?”

The voice startled him. He turned sharply to see you standing in the doorway, holding a laundry basket overflowing with brightly colored clothes. You were dressed in the epitome of Saturday comfort: an oversized t-shirt with a graphic that read 'Physics: It’s Not Rocket Science... Oh, Wait, Yes It Is,' paired with baggy sweatpants and ridiculously fluffy, colorful monster feet slippers. Your hair was slightly messy like you’d just rolled out of bed—or perhaps fought the laundry demons he was now dealing with.

Your lips curved into a teasing smile as you tilted your head. “I’m impressed. I didn’t know machines responded to passive-aggressive foot taps.”

Carmy let out a quiet sigh, rubbing the back of his neck. “Didn’t have a better idea.”

“Well,” you said, stepping into the room and setting your basket down on the counter, “I hate to break it to you, but this thing looks like it’s plotting your demise. What’s the issue? Won’t open?”

“It stopped mid-cycle,” he explained, gesturing toward the uncooperative machine. “Clothes are stuck. It’s probably fried.”

“Oof. Smells like defeat and polyester.” You crouched down to inspect the machine, tilting your head like a mechanic sizing up a stubborn engine. “Looks like it’s giving you the silent treatment. Did you try apologizing? Promising to separate your whites and darks next time?”

“Funny,” Carmy deadpanned, though the twitch of his lips betrayed his amusement.

You straightened up, planting your hands on your hips in a stance that could only be described as authoritative. “Well, lucky for you, Carmy-next-door, I happen to be an expert in broken things.”

Carmy raised an eyebrow, leaning back against the counter. “Yeah? How’s that?”

You let out a playful scoff, crouching in front of the washing machine as if it were a patient in need of your expertise. “When you work in a place that runs on shoestring budgets and prayers, you pick up a thing or two about fixing stuff. I’ve practically got a minor in MacGyver-ing. It’s part of my many talents.”

He smirked, watching as you pressed a few buttons and tapped the side of the machine like you were coaxing it back to life. “Sounds like a tough gig.”

“Oh, it’s a blast,” you replied sarcastically with a grin, peering at the machine’s latch. “But the real fun is my lovely fourth graders and their… slippery fingers. Nothing keeps you on your toes like finding out your class stapler’s been dismantled to ‘see how it works.’”

“And you adore them,” Carmy guessed, his voice soft but sure.

“Ugh, to a fault,” you admitted, sitting back on your heels to glance at him. “They’re chaos in human form, but they’re my chaos. Like when Marcus decided to see if he could use glitter glue as a bookmark. Spoiler alert: he couldn’t. And then there was Kayla’s science project that involved exactly zero science but a lot of snacks. Kids are wild, but they’re kind of the best.”

Carmy chuckled, the sound low and warm as he shook his head. “Sounds like you’ve got your hands full.”

You huff a laugh nodding. “But they make all the broken stuff worth it... also, they’ve prepared me for moments like this. Fixing things? I’m a pro. Diffusing meltdowns? Also a pro. Dodging paper balls? Let’s just say my reflexes are unmatched.”

He chuckled quietly, his blue eyes softening as he observed your easy confidence. “Sounds like you’ve got it all figured out.”

“Oh, hardly,” you said with a self-deprecating laugh.

He watched as you tinkered with the inner workings of the washer, the way your monster-footed slippers stuck out behind you, and the light in your eyes as you spoke about your students. There was something captivating about the way you moved—confident but never overbearing, your words spilling out in an endless stream of humor and warmth. For someone who probably dealt with endless chaos in your day-to-day life, you had an energy about you—warmth—messy and vibrant—that felt oddly grounding in his otherwise muted world.

Finally, with a triumphant click, the washer’s door popped open. A puff of warm, damp air escaped, carrying with it the faint scent of detergent. You rocked back on your heels, grinning up at him as if you’d just disarmed a bomb.

“And there you have it!” you declared standing up, sweeping your arm dramatically toward the liberated laundry like a game show host revealing a grand prize. “Your clothes are finally free, Chef Carmy. Laundry liberation, courtesy of yours truly. I accept gratitude in the form of snacks, coffee, or eternal admiration—your choice. But please, no autographs. I have to stay humble.”

“You’re something else, you know that?” Carmy said, huffing a quiet laugh as he shook his head, stepping forward to start transferring the damp clothes into another machine. His tone softened slightly as he added, “But thanks, really. I owe you one.”

You waved a hand dismissively, already moving to the next machine with your own basket in tow.

“Don’t worry about it, Carmy…” you said, your tone casual, though the smirk playing on your lips suggested otherwise. “But, if you do feel like you want to repay me, feel free to bring me more of those leftovers—like the ones you brought when I first moved in.”

He paused, eyebrows raising slightly as he met your gaze. “That’s what you want? Leftovers?”

“Not just any leftovers,” you clarified, turning back to load more clothes. “The fancy ones. Braised short ribs, perfectly roasted vegetables... whatever culinary magic you’re whipping up in that kitchen of yours. Don’t think I forgot.”

Carmy paused mid-transfer, glancing at you with a faint, almost embarrassed smile. “You liked those, huh?”

“Liked?” you scoffed, tossing a pair of socks into the machine. “I was ready to write you a thank-you sonnet. That braised short rib? Poetry in food form. You’ve ruined me for takeout forever.”

He chuckled softly, shutting the door to his machine. “It was just a test recipe.”

“Well, then I’d be happy to test more of your recipes,” you said with a wink, starting your own machine and leaning back against it. “Strictly as a favor, of course. I’m nothing if not generous.”

“Generous,” he repeated, shaking his head with a smirk as he pressed the start button on his machine. He glanced at you, the faintest hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Alright. I’ll see what I can do.”

“See?” you teased, flashing him a grin. “You’re already getting the hang of this whole neighborly exchange thing. Don’t worry, I’ll keep my expectations high.”

Carmy shook his head, letting out another quiet laugh. “You’re impossible.”

“And yet, here you are,” you quipped, settling yourself into the nearby chair and grabbing a book from the empty laundry basket at your feet. You opened it casually, like you weren’t fully aware of the fact that his attention was still on you. “Don’t keep me waiting too long, Chef Carmy. I’ve got standards now.”

Carmy smirked faintly, shaking his head as he leaned back against the counter, arms loosely crossed. His gaze lingered on you for a moment longer than he intended, watching as you flipped through the book, completely at ease. The light in the room, though dim and slightly yellowed, softened your features, making you look... warm. Pretty, even. The oversized t-shirt, the messy hair, and those ridiculous monster slippers didn’t detract from it—in fact, they only made you more endearing. Not that he’d ever admit that out loud. Instead, he tucked the thought neatly into the back of his mind, letting it sit there quietly.

The faint hum of the working washing machine filled the space, stretching the silence between you into something that felt oddly comfortable. He wasn’t used to that—not in conversations, not in moments like these. Usually, silence felt heavy, awkward, something to be broken. But this? This felt... different.

Still, the need to say something eventually won out, despite his lack of finesse with small talk. Clearing his throat softly, Carmy shifted his weight and finally asked, “So... uh, how are you liking it here?”

You glanced up from your book, your lips curving into a small, knowing smile. “In the building? Or in the laundry room?”

Carmy huffed a quiet laugh, looking down briefly before meeting your eyes again. “The biulding, I guess."

“Oh, it’s not bad,” you said, leaning back in your chair. “The walls are a little thin—I may or may not know the entire plot of the soap opera your upstairs neighbor is binging—but they are decent. A little quiet, though, except for one guy who keeps kicking appliances. Total menace.”

“Sounds rough,” Carmy deadpanned, though his smirk gave him away.

“It is,” you said with mock solemnity before your smile softened. “But honestly? I like it. It’s... cozy, you know? Feels like a place where things can settle down.”

He nodded slowly, his gaze dropping briefly to the floor. “That’s good.”

“It’s growing on me,” you admitted, closing the book and resting it on your lap. “I mean, it’s not every day you move into a building and immediately make friends with someone who’s probably going to be on the cover of Some Fancy Chef Magazine someday.”

“Friends?” he said, arching a brow.

“Yeah, friends,” you replied with a teasing grin. “Or at least laundry room acquaintances.”

He shook his head, his smirk softening into something closer to genuine. “Friend's better.”

"Good," You smiled, shifting slightly in your chair. “So, Carmy-next-door, aside from working and battling possessed washing machines, what do you do for fun?”

“For fun?” he repeated, raising an eyebrow as though you’d just asked him to name every spice in his kitchen alphabetically. “Uh... I don’t know. Not sure I’ve got much time for that.”

“Not buying it,” you shot back, narrowing your eyes playfully. “Everyone’s got something. Come on, spill. What’s your guilty pleasure? Do you secretly knit in your downtime? Binge-watch trashy reality TV? Start a garden but refuse to tell anyone because it ruins your ‘serious chef’ vibe? And if you are, I know someone who could be your new best friend.”

He let out another quiet laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. “None of those, but now I’m thinking I should start knitting just to throw people off.”

“Do it,” you said, pointing at him. “Then you can make me a scarf. But seriously, what’s your thing? There’s gotta be something.”

Carmy hesitated for a moment, his gaze dropping briefly before meeting yours again. “I guess... sometimes I’ll just walk around the city. Clears my head, you know?”

You nodded, smiling softly. “That’s a solid choice. City walks are like people-watching with a side of fresh air. What’s your favorite spot?”

“There's this park near the river. Quiet, not too crowded. Good place to think." Carmy tells her.

"Sounds nice," you replied, smiling. "I might have to check it out sometime."

"You should," Carmy said, his expression softening. He clears his throat, "I-uh, I used to draw, though. Sketch stuff when I had the time.”

“Used to?” you asked, leaning forward a bit, intrigued. “You mean you don’t anymore? Or are you just too modest to admit you’ve got sketchbooks hidden under your bed?”

His smirk faltered into something a little more genuine, a touch of shyness creeping into his expression. “I still do. Sometimes. When things aren’t too crazy.”

“Now that’s interesting,” you said, sitting back with a thoughtful smile. “What kind of stuff do you draw? People? Landscapes? Elaborate food masterpieces?”

“A little of everything,” he said with a small shrug. “But mostly recipes, or at least how I want them to look."

“Like a visual diary,” you said, nodding. “That’s actually really cool.”

“Yeah, well...” he trailed off, rubbing the back of his neck. “It’s nothing big.”

“Carmy,” you said, tilting your head at him. “You just admitted to having an actual hobby, and I’m here for it. Don’t downplay it.”

He huffed, shaking his head flushing ever so slightly. “Alright. What about you? What do you do for fun?”

“Me?” you repeated, your eyes lighting up as you sat back in the chair, clutching your book like a prop in a comedy routine. “Well, let’s see. I’m a professional daydreamer, certified in overthinking, and an expert-level snack enthusiast. It’s an impressive resume, I know.”

Carmy chuckled, the corner of his mouth twitching into a rare smile. “Sounds like a full-time job.”

“Oh, it is,” you said with a mock-serious nod. “But if we’re being serious... I like to read, obviously.” You held up the book for emphasis. “And I’m a sucker for a good movie. Big screen, small screen, doesn’t matter. I also like to go out with friends— go to clubs, a karaoke bar, grab dinner, play board games, complain about life. You know, the usual.”

He tilted his head, his expression softening. “Any favorites? Books or movies?”

“Hmm,” you mused, tapping your chin. “For books, I like a little bit of everything—mysteries, fantasy, even the occasional cheesy romance. Keeps life interesting. And movies... I’m a sucker for feel-good comedies. But every now and then, I’ll binge something dark and broody just to balance it out.”

Carmy nodded, his gaze thoughtful. “Feel-good comedies? Got any recommendations?”

“Oh, I’ve got tons,” you said, your eyes gleaming. “But only if you’re ready for some real classics. Think Clueless, The Princess Bride, or When Harry Met Sally. If you’ve never seen those, we might have to reassess this friendship.”

“Clueless,” he repeated, remembering the movie because of Natalie who forced him and Mikey to watch it, one eyebrow-raising. “That the one with ‘As if’?”

“Yes!” you exclaimed, pointing at him with enthusiasm. “See? You’re already on the right track.”

He smirked, shaking his head again. “I’ll take your word for it.”

“What about you? Do you watch movies, or is that too much fun for someone as serious as Chef Carmy?”

He smirked, rubbing the back of his neck. “I watch stuff sometimes. Nothing specific. Just... whatever’s on.”

“Lame answer,” you teased, narrowing your eyes at him. “We’ll work on that. I’ll make you a list. Everyone needs go-to favorite movies.”

“I’ll hold you to it,” he said, his smirk softening.

“Good,” you replied with a playful nod, leaning back in your chair. “And since you’re such a layer enigma, like an onion, I’m guessing you don’t do the whole ‘night out with friends’ thing often?”

“Not really,” he admitted, his tone quieter now. “Doesn’t happen much.”

“You should,” you said, leaning forward slightly, your tone teasing but warm. “You might surprise yourself. One minute you’re awkwardly standing in a corner, and the next, you’re reenacting a dance scene from Dirty Dancing with a stranger. That’s how the best stories happen.”

Carmy shook his head, a quiet laugh escaping him. “Not sure that’s my thing.”

“Hey, it doesn’t have to be Dirty Dancing,” you said with a shrug. “But everyone deserves a good night out now and then. Even mysterious chef-next-door types.”

“I’ll think about it,” he said, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “But no promises.”

“Fair,” you replied, looking over at him with a soft smile. “I’m just saying, Chef Carmy, you can’t live in your kitchen forever. Sometimes you’ve gotta step out and find your own rom-com moment.”

Carmy stared at you for a moment, a small, genuine smile tugging at his lips. He shook his head, as though amused by something he couldn’t quite put into words, but the warmth in his expression lingered.

The hum of the machines filled the room, a soft backdrop to your easy conversation. What started as playful banter drifted into more thoughtful exchanges—small glimpses into each other’s lives, quirks, and histories.

Minutes melted into what felt like seconds, neither of you noticing the time slipping away. For once, it wasn’t about schedules, responsibilities, or the ever-present noise of the outside world. Just two neighbors sharing stories in the glow of the laundry room’s dim light.

A/N: So, thank you so much for all the support. It really keeps me going. I'm thinking of making like a small series of this, like a few interactions before they started dating- maybe some jealousy along the way lol- the first date- maybe the future but idk.

Also, just in case I do, please tell me if you would like to be tagged.

Part 4?

@themorriganisamonster

[gallavichpreg]

TV and Movie characters who I would’ve loved to see pregnant (when I was watching the show/movie):

Jacob (Abbot Elementary)

Gregory (Abbot Elementary)

Marc (Ugly Betty)

Pete (Bonding)

Elio (Call Me by Your Name)

Trevor (Shameless)

Lip (Shameless)

Carl (Shameless)

Kev (Shameless)

Jeff (Community)

Troy (Community)

Abed (Community)

James (Derry Girls)

Jonah (Superstore)

Van (Reba)

Joey (Friends)

Kurt (Glee)

Blaine (Glee)

Papi (Pose)

Damon (Pose)

Marcus (Ginny and Georgia)

Jake (Brooklyn Nine-Nine)

Nick (New Girl)

Winston S. (New Girl)

Coach (New Girl)

Sam (New Girl)

Ben (Parks and Rec)

Andy (Parks and Rec)

Chuck (Gossip Girl)

Dan (Gossip Girl)

Todd (Easy A)

Joe (You)

Dean (Supernatural)

Sam (Supernatural)

Jack (Burlesque)

Christian (Clueless)

Charlie (Heartstopper)

Ben (Descendants)

Hook (Descendants)

Harry (Descendants)

Chester (Genera+ion)

Fraser (We Are Who We Are)

In my head, they’re all preggo🫃🥰. I’ll probably draw up some stuff of each of them at some point.

[catominor]

I beg you please elaborate on the Roman senators as a monastery, like, Cicero is the abbot for sure, but the others? Crassus, Pompey, Caesar, Cato, god what are even Marc Antony and Marcus Agrippa? Anyway, I love your daily posting, and hope you feel better soon!

i thinkkkk.... crassus should be the sacrist. and cato has librarian vibes to me.... he can be so authoritarian with those books... ouh or maybe novice master. so he can be authoritarian with those novices.... theres so much to consider.... i hauve to think about it more tbh....

[writingamongther0ses]

Treasure Triplets- Bonus Characters

Gonna reposting some posts from my old account with character profiles and some revised facts:

Vanessa and Will Runic, everyone!

Like Elliot, Will was born in Florence but moved to the US when he was a baby. Sixteen years ago, his mother lost her powers thanks to Connor Klein. Most believed that this was due to the fact that she was evil and constantly tried to steal his fortune. Those closer to the Klein family believed this was more due to an incident related to Isaac, Connor’s nephew.

Vanessa is still scheming- however, this time to reclaim her powers. To do so, she sends Will to try and get closer to the newly revealed Klein heiresses. Despite being an evil witch, she still tries to be a good mother and allows him to actually befriend the Klein Manor kids.

-_-

Donna and Isaac Klein are Connor’s twin niece and nephew from his now-deceased sister Tilly. Due to fertility issues, it took a while for her to conceive the children she wanted. She took it even further by experimenting with a spell that gave both twins extreme luck, in order to give them better lives then she had. Both of them took it different ways.

Donna sees it as a curse, since the spell only gives luck in money and charisma. After her mother died, leaving her with no way to remove the spell, she ended up in the military before leaving to have a fruitless career as an archaeologist for Klein Enterprises. She forces a smile every day despite finding nothing to prove her worth.

Isaac uses it as a blessing. He sails through life with an easy grin, ignoring how people whisper about him behind his back and the fact that his ‘friends’ are usually manipulating him. The only time he gets angry is when he gets called a nothing, or when Vanessa Runic and something called the ‘Hattie Incident’ gets brought up.

-_-

Marcus Hilton, owner and head of Hilton Inc and rival to Connor Klein.

1. He’s a year or two older than Abbot and Molly Klein but is shorter than both.

2. He dyes his hair to look younger.

3. He’s the second richest man, which is the source of his rivalry with Connor.

4. His CEO is paid very well to babysit him.

5. He was born in Boston.

6. He constantly mixes up the triplets’ names. (Ignoring the yells of this is why they’re color coded.)

7. He is straight as a ruler.

8. His company is one of those companies, despite that there is LGBT+ staff, that go rainbow for Pride for brownie points.

9. Despite his rivalry with Connor, Klein Enterprises and Hilton Inc does run a children’s charity.

10. And despite never getting their names right, he does try and get the triplets to work for him.

-_-

Antigona Delvina-Prifti  is the CEO of Klein Enterprises’ rival Hilton Inc. She also serves as the assistant *cough babysitter cough* to Marcus Hilton, Connor’s rival.

1. She immigrated from Albania at 19 to go to business school.

2. Her favorite triplet is Becca, due to the fact that Ella and Terra aren’t helpful when it comes to separating Connor and Hilton during their arguments.

3. She would’ve worked at Klein Enterprises, except Hilton Inc’s board of directors offered her a larger salary to deal with Hilton.

4. She has a girlfriend named Gemma who ends up working for Klein Enterprises as the in-house doctor.

5. She plays roller derby! (Mostly to resist the urge to punch Hilton.)

6. Her family is Muslim and Antigona does keep to some traditional Muslim practices, including covering her hair.

7. She is a coffee-drinker.

8. Her dislike of Hilton is well-known, due to his evil plots is bringing her reputation down.

9. She is far-sighted.

10. Becca pays her for business tutoring

-_-

Harrison McFall is the superhero Dark Knight, Kalani’s future boyfriend, and Noor’s father.

1. Dark Knight was actually a TV show and Harrison was going to act in the movie before the original actor, James Glass, tried to kill him and set fire to the set.

2. He got Terra’s first crossbow gauntlet because she thought he needed better protection.

3. Harrison’s father is mayor of the next city over.

4. Harrison left his family due to them being homophobic and toxic towards him.

5. He was a gay mess for Kalani within a few minutes of meeting him.

6. Harrison is actually brunette, but he had to dye his hair for the movie part. He kept the top part of his hair blonde afterwards due to liking the look.

7. Becca ended up with his coat on his first public hero appearance due to her nearly dying and being a panicked mess. He gave it to her to try and comfort her and she never gave it back.

8. When it comes to interacting with his family, Harrison is petty.

9. He knows how to sew.

10. His favorite dessert is blueberry pudding.

-_-

Noor McFall- Al-Amin is Harrison’s adopted daughter and Terra’s future girlfriend.

1. Her mother moved from Pakistan before Noor was born to work as a scientist for Klein Enterprises.

2. She plays football and hockey for her school and is learning about roller derby.

3. She enjoys learning copycat restaurant recipes and making them halal.

4. She’s planning on buying a motorcycle when she’s old enough.

5. She runs both the Klein Enterprises and the Dark Knight Instagram accounts.

6. One of Noor’s most popular posts is the livestream of the entire staff of the Bin playing Mario Kart. (Becca won.)

7. Like the triplets, Noor is very light for some reason.

8. Gibbs and Harrison ended up needing to make Noor a special pair of gauntlets and arm/kneepads to wear when patrolling with Dark Knight.

9. She’s fifteen, making her a year old than the triplets

10. When they’re older, she and Terra will make a podcast describing the Treasure Triplets’ adventures.

[scotianostra]

On 10th November 1150 work began on the construction of Dryburgh Abbey in the Scottish Borders.

Dryburgh was founded by Hugh de Morville for Premonstratensian canons from Alnwick Priory in Northumberland. De Morville was the Constable of Scotland and Lord of Lauderdale, but despite his Scottish titles he was a Norman lord, with his roots in England, so it is not too surprising that he invited English canons to populate his new abbey.

Construction of the new abbey concentrated on the abbey church, but even so, the church was not finished until the early 13th century.

Dryburgh became the mother house of the Premonstratensian order in Scotland, establishing daughter houses at Whithorn, in Dumfries-shire, and Fearn, in Ross-shire, among other locations. Dryburgh was never as prestigious or as wealthy as the three major Borders abbeys at Melrose, Kelso, and Jedburgh, but it lasted for 400 years in this peaceful spot by the Tweed.

The peaceful life of the canons at Dryburgh was disturbed in 1320 when a canon named Brother Marcus punched the abbot. For this serious offence he was expelled from the abbey. Much worse was to come just 2 years later in 1322 when the armies of Edward II, retreating from a reverse against the Scots, heard the abbey's bells ringing in the distance. According to legend, the army turned aside from the route of its march and sacked the abbey, setting fire to the monastic buildings and carrying off whatever loot they could grab.

The Scottish Reformation had a more long-lasting effect, however, and the numbers of monks dwindled until there were only 2 remaining in 1584. Eventually the last of the monks died or left, and the abbey was left to crumble into ruin.

Then the 11th Earl of Buchan stepped in. The Earl was a keen antiquarian, responsible for founding the Society of Antiquaries in Scotland in 1780. Buchan bought the Dryburgh site and turned it into a peaceful landscape garden, where flowers bloomed amid ancient ruins. When the Earl died in 1829 he was buried in the sacristy. His close friend, the novelist Sir Walter Scott, died just 3 years later and was buried in the north aisle.

Pics are a reconstruction by Andrew Spratt and pics I posted here taken on my visit to the Abbey in April 2013.

[ech-definitive-edition]

Just Posting an Relatively Recent Short Story of Mine

Like Rats

Archived by the Petrichor Corporation, unedited in its entirety

Created Nov 1/2138/16:32

Transcript copyrighted by Petrichor Corporation, 2138, All Rights Reserved

The following interview was transcribed by archival intern Marcus Brisby on the 1st of October, 2138. Original interview recorded on the 29th of August 2138.

--[Transcript Start]--

--[Ernest B.]--

Hello, my name is Ernest Baker, Regional HR Director of the Petrichor Corporation and I would like to ask you to state your name for the record, please.

--[Leon W.]--

Oh, my name is Leon Wang.

--[Ernest B.]--

Well, Mr. Wang, here at Petrichor Corporation, we value authenticity and a healthy work-life balance in order to ensure maximum employee wellbeing and we would like to know if you are a good match for our company. Could you please tell me a little bit about yourself?

--[Leon W.]--

Uh, sure. I have a cat. I like to knit. Back when the water wasn’t so acidic, I would surf every saturday morning and- 

--[Ernest B.]--

That’s enough for now, Mr. Wang, why do you want to work at the Petrichor Corporation?

--[Leon W.]--

Well, I-I think it would be a great leadership opportunity.

--[Ernest B.]--

(Sound of assent)

--[Leon W.]--

I think my skills would benefit this company greatly and I can really add to the Petrichor Corporation's core competency, y’know? I really believe that the company’s values are strongly in alignment to my own and I really feel like this a good match-

--[Ernest B.]--

Mr. Wang, are you aware you are applying for a Compensation and Benefits Analysis position? 

--[Leon W.]--

Please, Mr. Baker, I really need this job.

--[Ernest B.]--

I think that will be all, Mr. Wang. I’d appreciate it if you could step outside to make way for the next person. The line outside is getting mighty long.

--[Transcript End]--

--------

Ernest waits for Leon Wang to leave before he gets up and grabs some canned water from his desk. He takes a sip and frowns as if swallowing something awful. Ernest sets it back down in between his weighty employee of the month paperweight and framed photograph of his guinea pig. He looks down to check his watch. His shift isn’t over yet. He sighs and sits back down to ring the buzzer.

--------

The following interview was transcribed by archival intern Matthias Abbot on the 2nd of October, 2138. Original interview recorded on the 29th of August 2138.

--[Transcript Start]--

--[Ernest B.]--

Hello, my name is Ernest Baker, Regional HR Director of the Petrichor Corporation and I would like to ask you to state your name for the record.

--[Melanie G.]--

Melanie Green. My name is Melanie Green. 

--[Ernest B.]--

Nice to meet you, Ms. Green. As you likely know by now, at Petrichor Corporation, we value authenticity and a healthy work-life balance in order to ensure maximum employee wellbeing and we would like to know if you are a good match for our company. Could you please tell me a little bit about yourself?

--[Melanie G.]--

Actually, before we begin the interview, would you mind if I ask a quick question?

--[Ernest B.]--

No, no I do not.

--[Melanie G.]--

Most of what I know about Petrichor comes from your advertising division, who might I say do a fabulous job and-

--[Ernest B.]--

Get to the point, Ms. Green. I don’t have all day.

--[Melanie G.]--

Right, so. I know of the workplace culture and environment and the products and all that, but I don’t know much about the day to day routine. Would you mind telling me your favorite part about working there?

--[Ernest B.]--

I… Uh… It pays pretty well, I guess. Now, circling back to the question at hand, would you mind telling me about yourself?

--[Melanie G.]--

Hmm, let’s see… I like tea. A lot. Tea bags are expensive these days so I have a little garden in my apartment. It takes up most of my living space, but I manage. I’ve been branching out to flowers, though they’re having a hard time breathing. They just don’t seem to agree with the air and all.

--[Ernest B.]--

Good to know. Now, Ms. Green, what compels you to seek out a position at the Petrichor Corporation.

 --[Melanie G.]--

Honestly, I’ve always seen myself as a natural leader. I thrive in competitive, faster paced environments like the one you have here at Petrichor and-

--[Ernest B.]--

That’s all very nice, Ms. Green, but you haven’t mentioned anything that qualifies you for the position you’re applying for? Do you have a background in analysis?

 --[Melanie G.]--

No, but I’m a very hard worker and always eager to learn.

--[Ernest B.]--

Whatever you say, Ms Green.

--[Transcript End]--

The following interview was transcribed by archival intern Ivan Delapore on the 4th of October, 2138. Original interview recorded on the 30th of August 2138.

--[Transcript Start]--

--[Ernest B.]-- My name is… my name is Ernest Baker, Regional HR Director of the Petrichor Corporation and I would appreciate it if you could please state your name for the record.

--[John S.]--

My name is John Smith.

--[Ernest B.]--

Could you repeat that please?

--[John S.]--

Oh. Sure? My name is John Smith.

--[Ernest B.]--

So, Mr. err…

--[John S.]--

Smith. 

--[Ernest B.]--

So, Mr. Smith, here at Petrichor Corporation, we value authenticity and a healthy work-life balance in order to ensure maximum employee wellbeing and we would like to know if you are a good match for our company. Could you please tell me a little bit about yourself?

--[John S.]--

Sure.  Well, I was employed as a Junior Staff Coordinator at the Radiodyne Aerospace Conglomerate and I figured it was just about time for a change in occupation. 

--------

Ernest pauses, staring at the man across from him. Something is wrong. John Smith doesn’t look especially out of the ordinary. Mid 30’s, average height, average build, average face. Ernest stares at John, half expecting the man to lunge at him from across the metal folding table that separates the two. John stares back. He looks concerned.

--------

--[John S.]--

Mr. Baker? Mr. Baker, is there something wrong?

--[Ernest B.]--

No, everything is… Fine,

--------

Ernest says, half to convince himself that everything is fine and half to placate the thing across the room from him. He takes a deep breath and continues,

--------

--[Ernest B.]--

Mr… Mr. Smith, can you please pick up where you left off?

--[John S.]--

Oh, sure. Let’s see, oh yes, Radiodyne. Yeah, so I was just feeling adrift, y’know? I’d spent like, 6 years there, and was like, “Oh shit is this really what I want to do with my life?” Just trying to find a fresh start and all. Life hits you with that sometimes.

--[Ernest B.]--

This is all very… interesting, Mr. Smith. Could you please continue?

--[John S.]--

Gladly! 

--------

Ernest is panicking now. He thinks he can see the wriggling shapes of… rats? They’re there, underneath the thing that claims to be John Smith’s skin, just below the creature’s jaw. The thing doesn’t notice him staring. It’s still talking,

--------

--[John S.]--

-I mean, of course, the moment when I just realized that I needed to leave, just like, straight up bolt, was when corporate laid off half my division. Something about a worker’s union, I think? That’s when I saw the writing on the wall. It was time to go. I honestly don’t really know how to explain it any other way, really. 

--[Ernest B.]--

Mr Smith, I-I don’t mean to interrupt your fascinating story, but I really need to step out for a moment. I hope you don’t mind giving me a second to er, get some fresh air.

--[John S.]--

Oh sure, take your time. I’ve got all day.

--------

They both know there  is no such thing as fresh air, not anymore, at least, but Ernest doesn’t care. He has to get out. He stumbles through the door and out the hall, cast in a sickly warm glow by the buzzing fluorescent lights overhead. He contemplates taking the Mag-Lift home, but instead heads to the bathroom. He stares at himself in the mirror and takes a deep breath. He tells himself he’s going to be fine. That he’s not interviewing a writhing mound of rats in the shape of a man. That he’s just tired and seeing things. His sunken eyed reflection frowns at him. Ernest straightens his tie and walks back into his dimly lit office, once again finding himself sitting across the table from a monster. He looks it in the eye and asks,

--------

--[Ernest B.]--

So, Mr. Smith,  Petrichor Corporation offers a highly employee driven, goal oriented uh, environment which encourages blue sky thinking and out of the box solutions. Do you… do you think you can thrive in such a workplace?

--[John S.]--

Oh, absolutely. 

--[Ernest B.]--

Mr. Smith, I’m aware you’ve left your previous employer. Do you believe you have the commitment to be a loyal member of Petrichor Corporation’s workforce?

--------

The thing that calls itself Mr. Smith does not seem to be pleased by the question, but Ernest doesn’t care. He has to, needs to keep it talking. His eyes flick to the large paperweight on his desk. 

--------

--[John S.]--

-you know full well I left because of poor management. I trust Petrichor takes care of its employees far better than Radiodyne, of course and-

--------

As the creature talks, Ernest can see them now, chittering rats crawling and scratching their way up the the thing that looks like a man’s throat and spilling onto the table that separates man from monster. They’re rotten, mangy things, eyes lost under misshapen mounds of pustules and blisters. They gnash their yellow and crooked fangs. At the table. At the air. At each other. Ernest lunges for the paperweight.

--------

It’s three o’ clock standard time and Ernest Baker is taking the Mag-Lift home, covered in blood that is not his own. He cradles his paperweight, whispering sweet nothings to the cold, uncaring steel. He tells it everything is going to be alright. That it’ll all work out in the end. The paperweight remains silent. He chokes back tears. People are staring at him now. A woman is screaming into the phone.

--------

Four o’ clock and Ernest Baker is in his apartment in Substructure East, curled up and sobbing on the barren hardwood floor. He can hear wailing sirens now, off in the distance. Getting closer. He doesn’t care anymore. He wants to scream, but he can only let out a squeak.

--------

--[Transcript End]--

[markofastar]

↳ read MARK OF A STAR on webtoon!

"The internets favorite lovebirds Elias Tumeric and Marcus Abbot take a break from the hustle and bustle of influencer life to visit Pennsylvania!

But before their vacation can begin, there's somewhere they need to stop first."

its been an indie passion project for years now, finally on a schedule to be made and released! a dramatic romance story with lgbtq characters, comedy, and tension...

our twitter!

our webtoon link

[sendandburn]

Clearing up misconceptions

So a lot of people seem to believe that Abraxas Malfoy married Druella Rosier, however...

Druella Black[4] (née Rosier) (fl. 1951-1955) was a pure-blood witch who married Cygnus Black III. The couple had three daughters: Bellatrix, Andromeda, and Narcissa Black. " (Harry Potter Wiki)

So who did Abraxas marry? Honestly.... We don't know. All we know is that however it is, they are definitely not a Rosier. Perhaps he married an Avery, Macnair or Mulciber.... Or someone from a different pureblood family entirely.

Another common misconception, constantly being perpetuated by fanfiction cause people just LOVE the idea of a Teeny Tiny Wizarding world :

Dorea and Charlus Potter are James Potters parents.

They are not, as you can see right here:

"James Potter I (27 March 1960 - 31 October 1981),[1] also known as Prongs, was an English pure-blood[3][4] wizard and the only son of Fleamont and Euphemia Potter.[12]" (Harry Potter Wiki)

So what Charlus and Dorea are of James? Well, either They are his grandparents or, my own personal take, his Aunt and Uncle.

Ofc, you are free to write them as his parents if you want but not only you will be essencially erasing and/or flat out ignoring the freaking inventor of Sleekeazy's Hair Potion but also systematically destroying every chance Progsfoot/Starbucks, Jegulus, Sirry, Drary and whatever the heck the oficial ship name for Regulus Black/Harry Potter is (Regarry? Hagulus? Hargulus???) ever had of happening.

Look, i get why someone would want to destroy Sirry and Regulus Black/Harry Potter and as much as i love progsfoot, it is not that popular so it's not that surprising that someone would want to kill it. But Do you seriously want to obliterate two of the three most popular crack ships on this fandom, just so you can pretend the wizarding world is even more inbreed than it already is?

Wich, if you want to avoid incest, would leave you with the following options for partners for Harry :

Fred Weasley

George Weasley

Charlie Weasley

Bill Weasley

Cedric Diggory

Cho Chang

Neville Longbottom

Ron Weasley

Hermione Granger

Ginny Weasley

Marcus Flint

Oliver Wood

Dean Thomas

Theodore Nott

Blaise Zabini

Astoria Greengrass

Daphne Greengrass

Pansy Parkinson

Susan Bones

Hanah Abbot

Fleur Delacour

Gabrielle Delacour

Victor Krum

Luna Lovegood

An Oc

Remus lupin

Albus Dumbledore

Severus Snape

Tom Riddle

Minerva McGonagall

Amelia Bones

Alastor Moody

Evan Rosier

Barty crouch jr

Mulciber Jr

Avery Jr

Fenrir Greyback

Xenophilus Lovegood

Rubeus Hagrid

..... Or Cargo of any kind

Not as big of a selection as you would have by just leaving things as it is, but it may still please somebody so, whatever.

I guess the choice is up to you

Just remember that this is not canon.

[deathmimedream]

Oracle’s starter!

If you haven’t, read the intro post for my baby boy for context:

The undersized Ghoul awoke well before Marcus would return.

He’d known they were going to the main monastery to stay, but had never seen it.

It was dark, only a small bedside lamp to illuminate the entire room.

He half sat up, head still pounding, but nothing he couldn’t ignore after decades of visions.

He gulped the water at the bedside down, then grabbed clean clothes from their luggage, taking a cool shower.

In the dark.

But when one had migraines, too much bright light aggravated them.

He fingercombed his wet curls, dressing neatly, in the black ruffled shirt and trousers his Father always said he looked handsome in.

He added his suspenders, and wriggled into his boots as well, but he scowled at his reflection.

The scars, the empty socket where his right eye had been.

He carefully settled on his eyepatch, before looking away.

Best not to dwell on his appearance, even when his father said he was not ugly, hideous, or a monster, the mirror made it hard to believe.

He stepped away, and decided to explore, just a little, as he found a walk often helped ease the pain in his head.

He managed to figure out where a few places were, before he heard a voice? Voices? Ahead.

He started to back up and turn, but they rounded the corner…their eyes met….and hell broke loose.

Oracle’s eyes went wide, then rolled backwards into his head, his careful glamour peeling away like dripping water.

He barely registered falling, as images from his element invaded his mind.

Fire, earth, air, water, quintessence, other faces, names, elements, and tangled strains of music, voices he didn’t know raised in harmony…water, wind…a storm battering him, and then falling….falling…

He tasted copper on his tongue, his lips, barely registering his own pain, as he muttered out what he had seen.

“A storm…a ritual….danger…pain…so much blood…” he whimpered softly, unaware of who was beside him, but aware they had triggered this vision.

[theantonian]

Octavius meets Cleopatra

Once Marcus Antonius' funerary rites were over, Cleopatra gave herself up to a perfect frenzy of grief. She wounded herself, refused food and fell into a fever. Octavius sent word to her that, if she did not yield to the physician and take her food, he would kill every one of her children.

When Octavius learned that Cleopatra had become composed, and seemed to be in some sense convalescent, he resolved to pay her a visit. As he entered the room where she was confined, which seems to have been still the upper chamber of her tomb, he found her lying on a low and miserable bed, in a most wretched condition, and exhibiting such a spectacle of disease and wretchedness that he was shocked at beholding her. She appeared, in fact, almost wholly bereft of reason. When Octavius came in, she suddenly leaped out of the bed, half naked as she was, and covered with bruises and wounds, and crawled miserably along to her conqueror's feet in the attitude of a suppliant. Her hair was torn from her head, her limbs were swollen and disfigured, and great bandages appeared here and there, indicating that there were still worse injuries than these concealed. From the midst of all this squalidness and misery there still beamed from her sunken eyes a great portion of their former beauty, and her voice still possessed the same inexpressible charm that had characterized it so strongly in the days of her prime. Octavius made her go back to her bed again and lie down. Cleopatra then began to talk and excuse herself for what she had done, attributing all the blame of her conduct to Antony. Octavius, however, interrupted her, and defended Antony from her criminations, saying to her that it was not his fault so much as hers. She then suddenly changed her tone, and acknowledging her sins, piteously implored mercy. She begged Octavius to pardon and spare her, as if now she were afraid of death and dreaded it, instead of desiring it as a boon. In a word, her mind, the victim and the prey alternately of the most dissimilar and inconsistent passions, was now overcome by fear. To propitiate Octavius, she brought out a list of all her private treasures and delivered it to him as a complete inventory of all that she had.

Sources: Cleopatra by Jocob Abbot

Plutarch's Life of Antony

Image: Octavius and Cleopatra (1760) by Anton Raphael Mengs

[ask-papa-terzo]

-brings in a tea service on a tray, peppermint tea in the pot.- I thought I would bring some tea, for you and Papa. My summoner, Abbot Marcus, always makes it for me when I feel sick, so I thought it would help? There’s a few shortbread cookies too…I baked this morning.

-quintessence kit Oracle

Thank you, kit. It's really kind of you to do this for us. I'll give Terzo the tea and I'll keep the biscuits for myself for the moment, he hasn't had much of an appetite over the past few days. I'll keep one aside for him and I'll see if he's hungry after his nap. - Omega

[ganhosdoelefante]

London, 10 de fevereiro do Ano 1 - Sábado - Doc - 25 anos

08:00 - Acordo, tomo banho e me arrumo. 08:50 - Tomo café: Bread Ahead Bakery South Kensington

09:30 - Vou ao museu: The British Dental Museum

10:00 - Passo em uma loja: Beige

10:30 - Vou a outro museu: British Optical Association Museum

11:00 - Saio. 11:40 - Vou longe: Bruce Castle Museum

12:20 - Saio. 13:00 - Almoço perto de casa: Brother Marcus South Kensington

14:10 - Passo na ótica: Abbot Opticians

14:40 - Chego em casa e tiro uma soneca.

16:00 - Acordo e dou uma estudada.

17:00 - Recebo Bruno e ficamos de papo e tomamos choco:

18:00 - Tomamos banho e nos arrumamos para sair. 19:10 - Encontramos Jord e Sabri e jantamos: Lasdun Restaurant - Southbank

21:20 - Saímos e vamos cab para casa de Bruno.

Dançamos, curtimos e bebemos com ele e os amigos.

00:50 - Durmo por lá com as meninas.