(( Besides -even though that was pretty clear by now— I’m going on a tiny hiatus, really not too long. Maybe one more week or so? Or maybe more? Not sure.
I love this blog more than anything and interacting with you and your muses is basically the only thing that kept me sane throughout the last year <3 But I’m really not in the right mindset to deal with this these days and I don’t wanna come up with awful replies and very poor content just because RL is pulling my hair off. So, just gonna wait until I yeild to the horror of everyday non-summertime reality and be right back!
Take care lovelies! I love you~ ))
can someone explain to me why people like booker
NO PLEASE IM SORRY NOT YOU
(( So 842 was just supposed to be the standard canon Elsen at first and then-
panicking, jittery, constantly-on-the-verge-of-screaming-like-a-little-girl dork.
A wish? Well, aside from being promoted to an higher employee rank, I’m fairly certain I can say his utmost wish would be absolute and everlasting safety. Pure utopia. Because if getting rid of spectres and ghouls would be even… somehow possible to achieve, his idea of safety is a little more extreme than it should be.
No risk of falling, illnesses, getting scratched, burning and… pretty much everything else. Impossible.
That’s an easy one! Kinder, Toii, and mister Dedan himself. Oh, but for different reasons, rest assured!
He’s been promoted once! The memory is still as sweet as a sprinkle of sugar. The little Elsen used to be a worker in Pentel… his job was to slice cow carcasses open for the other employees to extract metal from. Gross. Not for him, though. Despite the looks, he’s not exactly the squeamish type… for what concerns blood and guts, at least.
Keeping secrets for long is far too stressful for his delicate, fragile head to withstand~
Which is to say, I doubt he has any.
whAT IS THAT I HEAR
IS THAT A COWARISH LITTLE
C H I C K E N
(( …You’re insulting chickens that way!
How can you compare that poor revolting excuse of a living being to a chicken? ))
The stranger’s polite demeanour was certainly welcome. A hand moved up to fasten his tie, gaze skipping all over the other’s figure before finally dropping to his own shoes.
“Hhh… Good day, sir… I think. Uh… A-Are you in need of… of something?”
Raising his brow slightly he took the time to sit down and listen to the elsen tell of the area. Zalli was big to begin with but with him just sitting down he was looking up slightly as he grinned.
"I honestly didn’t know any of that~!" He chimed once he was done. "You truly do know your work and zone quite well i’m impressed!"
The comment earned a bashful little grin that fretful hands drawing up to cover his mouth failed to conceal fully; sweet, warm joy always bloomed within his chest when complimented about the way he handled his precious job, even if for but a moment. The worked dipped his head in a soft bow. “A-Ah, th… thank you, sir,” he wheezed, eyes briefly falling on the box under the visitor’s arm before darting back up to its owner – just to yet again flee to his very own shoes, that is. There was something deeply unsettling about people’s eyes, the feeling of those piercing little orbs digging through his soul always creeping up at each and every attempt at holding someone’s gaze. “Although… uh… If you need to… to ship a package, you should head to the… hhh… p-post office, you see…”