elexaria
THE COURT JESTER
Eloise — 22 — she/they — minors will be blocked
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i have almost 1.5k followers on here and i feel awful for not posting anything so i feel like i owe y’all an explanation at least (＾＾；)
1.) life is kinda . Waaaaahh all over the place (in a good way!!!). lots of stuff happened that i did NOT expect, like getting a part-time retail job and i even started dating someone (??????? like hello??? did not expect that at all but its going great and hes awesome)
2.) i just . haven’t thought much about any fandom of mine. it’s not like i dislike COD or spiderverse, my head is literally empty and by the end of the day i’m just so exhausted and tired i have no room for any kind of thoughts. i don’t even sketch/write my own self indulgent stuff anymore 😵💫
it’s incredibly disappointing to see how well i’ve done with this account, and i really do still want to keep this going. partly because i’ve got a really lovely following and so many amazing people who actually care about me and my work, but also because being creative is SO important to me and my mental health.
so, this isn’t a goodbye— i do genuinely still want to continue writing on this blog, i just would like to express why i haven’t been posting much~
luv you all and i hope you’re doing well!
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poly!ghoap x reader where you’re working in a hostile workplace and have a creep shitbag of a manager who always lingers around you. his hands always manage to find their way to the small of your back, his chin resting on your shoulder as he’ll sway. it’s unnerving, i mean, the man is damn near old enough to be your dad. you’ve asked him to stop, but he never listens.
and one shift, he takes it too far. he corners you in the storage closet, getting all touchy feely. you break free and instantly take off, sobbing as you drive back to your apartment. the boys come home late, carrying bags full of takeout as they idly chatter to themselves.
normally, you’d be curled up on the sofa reading your book, beaming ear to ear as you greet them. but instead, you were nestled on the bathroom floor, pale and sickly looking as your bleary eyes wearily glance up and simon and johnny. simon looks furious, almost as if he knows what happened just based on his instincts. johnny kneels besides you, large hands soothing your back gently as he coos, “hey…. what’s up, hen?”
you explain everything, how your manager just keeps on pushing himself onto you, how you’ve complained and complained and nobody seems to give a shit. the pay isn’t even great, but jobs are scarce these days so you persevere to make ends meet, so you can pay the rent on the apartment. oh reader, you should have mentioned this a whole lot sooner …
simon and johnny exchange glances, simon’s lips drawn into a straight line as he glances back to you, nodding at you. “what’s this bastard’s name, and where does he live?” he asks, no, demands. you shake your head, sniffling. “i… i don’t know where he lives, si…. don’t bother, yeah? it’s.. it’s no probl—“
johnny presses a gentle kiss to your temple, giving your back one last gentle rub before getting up, nodding at simon. “we’ll be back in a bit, love. help yerself to some chips, yeah? don’t wait fer us.” he says with a chuckle, winking before disappearing back out the front door with simon.
the next morning, you wake up to breakfast in bed from both johnny and simon. johnny cuts up your pancakes, playfully making aeroplane noises as he gently feeds you. simon leans against the wall opposite your bed, clearing his throat. “don’t worry about work, yeah? we’ll look after everything until you can find a better job. you won’t have to worry about that prick ever again.”
you glance over at johnny, raising your eyebrows out of shock. he nods, bashfully grinning as he playfully nudges you. “aye, we mean it. oh, don’t worry— we didnae hurt the wee fella.” with an impish grin, he glances back at simon, who’s lips twitch with a slight smirk.
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so i started working at an alternative clothes store and i’m becoming increasingly paranoid someone will recognise some of the songs i play from leon kennedy/COD thirst trap edits LMAOOO
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hello i am alive and i will post again im just mentally a melted boiled sweet rn
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TW — mentions of suicidal ideation and suicide attempt
simon is out on sick leave, his mental health has gotten worse since johnny died. “can’t have you in service if you’re not 100%, riley.” price gruffly remarks as he signs simon’s papers, eyes looking up through thick eyebrows at si, who is angrily glancing away.
sick leave is torture. simon feels lost, no anchor to tether him down to earth. without work, he is nothing. without johnny, he’s ….. nothing.
he spends all day rotting away in bed, his thumb rasping against a battered old photograph of him and johnny on holiday in mallorca. johnny with a gorgeous tan, and simon all pink. no, he doesn’t get an impeccable bronze. that man BURNS.
the corners of simon’s lips twitch as he glances at johnny in the photo, admiring how handsome he truly was. he would give anything to see him again.
and then it gets hard to get anything but dying out of his head. if he dies, then maybe he can see johnny again. they can finally be together again. right?
the capt drops off a small bundle of johnny’s stuff at simon’s apartment, and then a small package is delivered in the post from mrs mactavish, johnny’s mom. various bits and bobs, some of johnny’s tshirts, his favourite cap, some sketchbooks.
his dog tags.
simon’s surprised to find them; he thought that they would be put in johnny’s urn or something. but clearly his mom thought otherwise, she must’ve known how much johnny adored simon. he would have moved heaven and earth for that mancunian.
still, suicide ghosts every waking moment of simon’s life. he glances at johnny’s dog tags besides his bed, chewing his chapped lips as he entertains the idea more. and again when he’s walking around the shops, glancing at various means of killing himself. his thumb rasps against the cold metal of johnny’s tags from within his jacket pocket as his free hand extends to read the packet of rat poison. might be a bit too painful, and apparently it stinks to the high heavens.
simon puts the box of rat poison back, continuing to walk around the shop, thumb still stroking against the dog tags as he continues to glance around the store. he can’t take painkillers, there’s a limit to two boxes per person. so, he settles on visiting the hardware store, and buys a bundle of sturdy rope. even grabs some plywood and metal brackets. “makin’ a swing for the little’un.” he mumbles to the cashier, flashing an uneasy yet somewhat believable smile to her as he fishes out some loose bank notes from his jean pockets. he’s not big on wallets.
for almost a week, simon sits on the edge of his bed staring at the bundle of rope next to a chair from his kitchen. he knows its the only way out, so why is it so terrifying? just do it, riley. do it.
he scrawls out demented ramblings on some loose leaf paper, barely readable chicken scratch to captain price, gaz and to mrs mactavish. “i’ll always be grateful for you for bringing my johnny boy into the world.” is somewhat legible in the letter written to her.
he neatly leaves the letters at the foot of his bed, taking a deep breath as he reaches into his pocket for johnny’s dog tags. for a moment, simon admires them in the dim lighting of his bedroom, watching as the thin metal clinks together. sergeant john mactavish.
as the tags slowly slip over simon’s head, the ball chain momentarily getting caught on a wry piece of scruffy blonde hair, they finally join with simon’s own tags on his chest as he stands on the kitchen chair. for a moment, his hand reaches out against his wardrobe to steady his balance. he slips the noose around his neck, heart thumping against his rib cage ferociously. do it, simon. do it.
simon’s trying his best to still his breathing, taking deep breaths as he tries to dull the nagging thoughts, against his instincts to not do this.
“tae fuck d’yae ‘hink yer daein?!”
simon falls back against his wardrobe out of shock, eyes wide with horror as he glances in the direction of that all too familar voice, that voice that immediately drowns out every single thought that was screaming at simon to kill himself.
it’s johnny.
he’s effervescent, an angelic silhouette of his mortal self. a halo of warm light, blue, ghosts around his form.
simon’s mouth is agape, eyes still wide as his body freezes. immediately, he tears the noose off of his head, damn near stumbling off the chair to get a closer look of the spectacle in front of him.
“johnny? but… you’re…”
“dead? aye, sherlock. i am.” the silhouette retorts sarcastically, flashing ghostly pearly whites in a lopsided grin, one that’s terrifying just like johnny’s signature grin. simon backs against the wardrobe, his breathing uneven and scant as he begins to panic. this isn’t normal, this isn’t right.
the mass of energy and light shaped like johnny notices this panic in simon, and seems to frown. it slowly moves towards him, a hand reaching out to touch simon’s shoulder. it’s hauntingly cold, and it makes simon recoil with horror. the spectre frowns even more, retracting its hand.
this can’t be johnny.
because johnny’s dead.
#elexaria writes#simon ghost riley#john soap mactavish#simon riley#soap mactavish#ghoap#ghoap au#ghoap angst
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HAH. NO WAY, my birthday is march 9th! happy birthday! hope you have a good day!! 👏👏🫶🫶
did you know you share a birthday with oscar issac? 👀 you also share a birthday with min yoongi from bts!
and thank you my sweet!! <3 mwah mwah
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happy birthday!!! here’s a cake 🎂
Hope every day of yours will be wonderful
thank you duck! this is so sweet <3
(ps the cake my mom got me is so sweet it’s unbearable rip, i’m recovering from a cold as well so i can barely even taste it i just feel incredibly dehydrated GSMEBEJEHEH)
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like just picture it,,,,, the gentle scratching of the worn down vinyl thrumming around the candlelit living room in your apartment, contently resting your head back on miguel’s bare chest as he takes a lit blunt to his lips and inhales, eyes closing with each lungful of potent smoke. he’s resting his auburn curls back against his forearm, his other arm wrapped around your shoulders as you take a puff of the blunt. it’s so cozy and warm in the apartment, and as you two relax with each other, the sounds of nueva york meld together and slowly dissipate from existence as the night slowly comes around.
physically im a husk of a person but mentally its a friday evening, indulgent spicy n creamy pasta has been served up with a small bowl of olives and i’m getting baked with migs while old rnb vinyls play in the background 😵💫
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physically im a husk of a person but mentally its a friday evening, indulgent spicy n creamy pasta has been served up with a small bowl of olives and i’m getting baked with migs while old rnb vinyls play in the background 😵💫
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omg wait now you have me thinking……….. would ghost give the reader any aftercare? or is he really mean about it and leaves the reader out
xoxo -anon
see, big ol’ meanie simon doesn’t do aftercare. even with johnny, the love of his life, the most he’ll do is kiss his shoulder and chuck him a towel to clean off with. he’s just … not a very physically or verbally affectionate guy. he shows it in other ways, albeit unorthodox ways of showing he cares. johnny once went on a tangent about how he fancied pickled onion monster munch like crazy, and then the next day a whole multi sale box full of them turned up on the doorstep. but you? he doesn’t care. you’re all achey and tense after getting railed all night? that’s not his problem. he’ll leave johnny to fuss over you.
but …… outside of the poly!ghoap angst, simon’s still a little awkward when it comes to showing affection. he’s silent, doesn’t do the sappy ‘i love you’s and whatnot. when things get intense and you’re left sore, he’s quick to hop up and draw you a warm bath with some muscle soak in the water, while johnny keeps you all safe and warm in his arms :( and when your bath is finally done, simon’ll swoop you up into his arms like you weigh nothing, keeping your head close to the blonde tufts of chest hair as he slowly eases you into the bath. if you’re especially unlucky and have sore muscles, he’ll even give you a massage afterwards. it’s his way of showing that he cares
#elexaria writes#cod x reader#simon ghost riley#john soap mactavish#poly!ghoap#poly!ghoap x reader#poly!ghoap smut
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we hit 10k reblogs 😮💨 tysm <3
simon swore up and down he’d never want kids, he was certain he’d end up just like his old man and he would rather die than let a child grow up how he did. he tells you, “look at the state of me, yeah? not exactly father material, am i? i’m tapped in the head, ‘ts not fair to give a kid any of that.” as he taps his temple with his pointer finger.
years pass, and those words echo in your mind as he holds your chubby baby in his rough hands, one gently splayed on their soft tummy while the other supports their head. he’s gently suspending your baby in the air, mimicking helicopter noises as they squeal and giggle happily. simon has the biggest grin on his face as your 3 year old begs him to let them have a turn as a rileycopter, small hands tugging on his cargo pants with pouty lips.
not exactly father material, simon? you beg to differ.
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living with ghoap was nice. two big burly fellas to keep you company, to reach the top shelves in the kitchen for you, to absolutely plough you into the mattress when you couldnt itch your own scratch for once. they were good lads.
but there were countless times where they’d be away for work, so you knew you couldnt be fully dependent on them. they knew that too, so they weren’t exactly going to object to you having fun without them. so long as you were happy and safe, they were content.
but fuck, the men out there are absolutely horrible to deal with. sleazy, there’s just… no ability to have any kind of banter with these things that think only with their cocks.
until you meet kilgöre alexander.
he’s gigantic, his shoulders probably share the same width as mount everest’s base. easily, kilgöre is the tallest man you’ve ever been with. he dwarfs simon in size, which is very telling in itself.
it’s hard to pry away at who kilgöre is as a person. he’s austrian, likes keeping himself to himself. absolutely refuses to tell you what he does for a living, because it’s on a need to know basis. “sounds like something a terrorist would say.” you jokingly coo one night at dinner, smirking as he rolls his foggy blue eyes at your comment. “har har, very funny.” he mockingly says, the corners of his lips twitching ever so slightly.
he’s one of the best things that’s happened to you in a while. he doesn’t know about the particular living arrangement you share with simon and johnny— like he says, it’s on a need to know basis. plus, you haven’t boned either of them since you met this fella. ghoap know what’s up, but they’re not bothered by it. they’re just glad to see you doing well for yourself. “ye have a glow about ye, love.” johnny coos in your ear one day, smirking as he watches you fluster and flounder around the kitchen, trying to make excuses. “it’s the vitamins i’m taking” this and “i’ve quit dairy” that. he knows the truth, simon know its too.
but there’s one thing that makes the attachment to this man absolutely unbearable.
he disappears from time to time.
some days it’s only a couple of days, maybe a couple of weeks at a push. absolutely no contact.
he swears it’s to do with his line of work, that one day he’ll be able to tell you everything. but for now, he asks just for one thing.
“just… wait for me.”
it’s been almost a month with no contact from kilgöre, and it feels like every morning with no text, no nothing, you have a growing pit inside of you that can’t stop gnawing at you, eating you up whole. what the fuck? what could he possibly do for a career that makes it so he goes days without checking his phone? it makes you feel sick to your stomach. what if he’s in a gang or something?
besides, how the fuck can you keep on waiting for someone who you don’t even know is even alive? for all you know, this behemoth of a man has been hog tied and dumped at the bottom of a lake with cinder blocks strapped to his feet. how are you supposed to wait for someone who shows no signs of leaving or coming back?
“that light in yer eyes has dulled.” johnny remarks one evening, a sad smile on his lips. your eyebrows knit together, feigning confusion. “huh? oh, yeah. uh… it’s the gluten intolerance i reckon.” you murmur to yourself, flashing a weak smile to consolidate his inquisitive gaze. “i’m fine, though.”
simon huffs as he leers next to you, skilfully flaying pieces of fish with a pensive look. both you and johnny glance at him, which only makes him grunt in response. you furrow your eyebrows at him, urging him to elaborate on what the pressing issue is.
“we reckon shit’s hit the fan with that new bloke of yours.” simon bluntly replies as he wipes off the chopping board with a damp cloth, hands gently scooping up guts, scales and delicate fish bones to dispose of. you scoff, eyes never leaving the cuts of fish meat that rest on a plate, waiting to be delicately battered and fried up.
“whatev—“
“and i know you, you’ll try and refute the truth that i know what’s going on. that we know what’s going on. so, none of this nonsense, alright? what’s up?”
johnny and simon silently watch you, their simultaneous waiting for any reaction from you making your skin crawl. at first, you scowl and huff. shifting your weight from foot to foot as you become defensive. simon cuts you off again, “none of that bollocks. tell the truth.”
you give in. on bated breath, you explain the whole situation. how kilgöre is the kind of man you had never expected to fall for, how he had managed to steal your attention even while being so elusive and secretive. how you desperately want him to come back to you, like he said he would.
johnny frowns, and simon nods in your direction, wiping his blood stained hands with the damp cloth. “fishy hands.” he murmurs, wiggling his fingers to prove he can’t comfort you with a hug. johnny nods, swiftly making his way around the kitchen island to come give you a warm hug. it’s a solid hug, one you’d never object to having. johnny’s large hands rub circles to your back, his bearded chin resting against your shoulder as he sways gently.
simon stands behind johnny, holding eye contact with you as he continued to carefully clean his hands. he raises his eyebrows in thought, before glancing down at his fingernails as he begins to meticulously clean underneath them to rid his skin of all things fish.
“this… kilgöre bloke. i reckon if he’s the one, he’s worth waitin’ for. but don’t think for a second he should get away with leavin’ you this long without so much as a text, yeah? rip ‘im a new one when he comes back.” he advises, glancing back up at you with a slight smirk when he hears you chuckle, your laugh strained with emotion.
he steps closer, carefully tilting your chin up so you can meet his gaze better. he gently wipes a stray tear from your cheek. “if he’s the man you think he is, he’ll explain everything if you ask him to. and if he does? great. if he doesn’t?” you wince at the idea, frowning.
he sighs, pressing a gentle kiss to your brow.
“then he’s a bloody eejit, as our johnny boy would say.”
#elexaria writes#cod x reader#simon ghost riley#john soap mactavish#poly!ghoap#poly!ghoap x reader#könig#könig x reader
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poly! ghoap except….. johnny is the one who doesn’t like the reader 😮💨
he glares daggers into the back of your head whenever simon fusses over you, his calloused hand finding its way to the small of your back as he watched you cook up dinner with a content expression.
the only difference between johnny’s jealousy is that simon can tell, and it’s exhausting to have to deal with. johnny’s moping around in bed, stocky arms crossed as he huffs and puffs. simon scowls when he comes out the en suite and notices this, rolling his eyes. “what now?” he groans, thick blonde eyebrows knitted together out of frustration. johnny huffs again, seething as he refuses to even glance at simon, like a wounded puppy.
“what now? i’ll tell ye whit fer, simon william riley,” is how the argument starts, johnny just nonstop ranting and raving about how frustrating it is to see you practically glued to simon’s hip all of the time. simon’s jaw tenses, his head whipping around as he instantly dismisses johnny’s argument. he keeps his tone down, hushed so as not to make you uncomfortable from across the apartment.
he reminds johnny of the clauses to their open relationship, how the only reason they’ve found themselves in this predicament is because johnny can’t not think with his dick. “remember our old lodgers? i didn’t exactly hear you complaining when you were balls deep in them both. you didn’t hear me complaining, did you?” simon says in a lowly growl, towel drying his mop of hair as he strides around their room to find a pair of clean boxers.
johnny huffs, crossing his arms like a child. “this is different, si. i don’t… like it, ye ken? youse lot are too close for comfort.” he retorts, biting the inside of his lip hard enough to draw a bit of blood. “yer bein’ selfish.”
that gets simon’s blood pressure rising. he whips his head around, eyebrows furrowing as he storms back over to the bed, thick finger in johnny’s face as he glares right at him. “don’t you fucking dare tell me i’m being selfish. don’t even go there.” he warns him with a hushed growl, his piercing blue eyes glaring right through johnny, who tenses up at this change in tone.
the next week is tense for ghoap, and johnny doesn’t even bother showing his face for a couple of nights. one evening, you and simon are watching a shitty tv show together, and he doesn’t seem to be able to relax. you’re not an idiot, you know he’s had a fight with johnny. his usually stoic expression is strained, simon even absentmindedly chews on his lip whilst his fingers scratch into the sofas fabric.
“he’ll come back.” you gently say, rubbing his arm affectionately to ease his worries. he clears his throat, turning his head so you can’t see the tears pricking up in his eyes. “i know.” he gruffly replies, lazily reaching over to squeeze your thigh affectionately, his non verbal way of thanking you.
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“do you reckon things could work out in a different universe?”
you glance over at your ex husband, simon, with a pensive expression. “what?” you ask quietly, eyebrows furrowed as you observe his demeanour. he chuckles dryly, thumb rasping over the pale slither of skin on his ring finger that serves as a reminder of the newfound absence of his gold band. he glances over at you for a moment, his gaze soft and gentle, before he turns and motions out to the stars above.
“i mean… do you think there’s a universe out there somewhere where we could have made things work?” he replies again, his gaze now concentrated on the blanket of stars in the sky with a sense of awe.
you shake your head, chuckling as you rest your head on his shoulder with a content sigh. “nope. i think that … in all the universes, we’re just as fucked up as we are in this one. and… that’s okay.” you reply gently, momentarily looking up at your ex husband, who chuckles at your comment. he wraps his burly arm around you, which still brings you a sense of comfort even now.
“yeah, i think so too.” is all he replies.
#elexaria writes#cod x reader#simon ghost riley#simon riley#simon ghost x reader#simon riley x reader
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