Posted in Headcanon


Elsa is pretty sure she’s starting to hate being alone.

It’s not the loneliness, not at all. She had always been content with loneliness, it’s what made her the best in this job of hers. She learned earlier on that everyone else is a liability and she doesn’t need those, so she put barbed wire fences and keep them out. So no, it was not about what being alone made her feel.

It’s about what crosses her mind when no one else is around.

Because lately, her thoughts are no longer hers to control and it run rampant, digging out all the worst and doing it’s best on driving her mad. It reminded her, relentlessly, of all the chances she recklessly took and how bad she messed up. Of the innocent victims she dragged into her predicaments, of all the mayhem she started and never cleaned up after. Of all her neglect and her selfishness.

And then it spiraled down, sinking it’s venomous teeth deeper and poisoned her core, prompting all manners of destructive thoughts to slither in her mind.

She knows, oh she knows, that this is one adversary she couldn’t win. For she had no monsters to shoot or fortresses to storm, and the only thing she need to kill is her own brain.

She needs to shut it down, even if just for a few moments. But her tea is no longer a working distraction, and smoking is off the table. That choice reminds her too much of John, and that sorry excuse of a man is the eye of this hurricane she’s currently in.

So maybe her final choice is a reckless one, maybe she should have know better than to swallows those tiny white pills. But her judgement is severely impaired and the silence that ensued after her system absorb the chemicals made it worth it.

At least tonight, she can finally sleep without dreaming of him.




À la mort,

Prompt: Fall Out Boy’s Hum Hallelujah.
“Sometimes we take chances, sometimes we take pills.”



An emotionally invested enthusiast of pop culture. Apathetic by design. Aesthetically offensive and eloquently candid. A sentimental heathen.

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