Posted in Headcanon


Moving on is not easy. It never was. Whether it is her daddy issues, her chronic loneliness, her bottomless lust for bloodshed, or the picket fence life he could’ve had with that Scouse git, Elsa Bloodstone knows full well how hard it is to get rid of her ghosts.

Because they come back. They always do. No matter how deep she buried their casket, or how she intricately hidden their skeletons, they always find their way back to haunt her. And him, well, she’ll be lying if she says John Constantine is not the ghost she hate the most.

He’s the only ghost that still affects her so, after all.

Kind of unfair, she laments. It’s not like she’s still moping or is stuck in the past where he belongs. She’s been faring so damn well and her life is back on track – for the most part. She had classified him as memories and though they keep resurfacing, she’s no longer bitter about it – save a few touchy subjects regarding what they could have had that he’s most likely having with some random dame he picked up from London’s filthy street, that is. Point is, she had come to terms with how their flames burned so brightly it consumed two of them until there’s nothing left but ashes. And that’s alright, he’s an experience she would remember, an infatuation that shaped her world and her into the person that she is today. He was a lesson to be learned, part of her past she had made her peace with.


But his ghost still haunts her, in her weakest moments.


Like now, when she’s out in the wilderness with all these people. Her supposed “family” or “team” or whatever term they coined. Yet, despite their (and hers) best efforts, they just unsettled her and made her brisk.

It’s not that she hates them, and it’s not that they pissed her off so. She’d dare say she’s on amicable term with them, and so far this mission had worked out better than she had expected. No fight had ensued and she hasn’t got into any heated argument. There were even moments when she honestly enjoyed herself.

But there’s still one too many suffocating moments when she had to relent – snuffing her own flame to pander to their demands. One too many moments where she swallowed back her words and kept her silence. One too many times they got under her skin and forced her to retreat inside her own head to find solace.

And that’s where the problem lies, when his ghost came back to haunt her.

Because it doesn’t matter how well she’s coping with these situations. It means no shit, how she used to be able to handle these unfortunate circumstances before he became a part of life, and how she would surely be able to handle it again now that he’s not here.

Still, his ghost always come back to remind her how, once, she had him to got her out of her predicaments. That there was once an option where she doesn’t gave to face being stuck with these suffocating excuse of teammates alone, for she had him to ease her discomfort and keep her occupied with the happiness he brought. With their stolen moments of comfort and exchanges of quips, softly whispered “I miss you” and “you got me” in their moments of sweet weakness.


So it’s only natural that, in these rare occasions, she longs for his company. And the constant presence of his ghost, reminding her of what she could’ve had, hurts more than the source of her problem itself. Even if she knows full well this is just temporary and she’ll be back to being alright once she get out of her predicament, back in the safety of her Bloodstone Manor.



But there’s still a week until her mission is over, and time pass differently in this plane. And though it pained her to do so, Elsa Bloodstone is afraid that, despite her better judgement, she might be consumed by a moment of weakness and fall into a relapse.



His ghost is always there, after all, slyly whispering the words of comfort she never know she needed.





À la mort,

Prompt: Jay Park’s You Know (feat. Okasian).
“Whenever it gets this late, I keep thinking of you. I had a drink but it’s not cause I’m drunk. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry for always calling you at this hour.”



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

One thought on “Haunted

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