#elexaria writes

[elexaria]

cringe is dead and in the year of the lord 2024 at the age of twenty two i am creating a self-insert creepypasta oc to itch the nagging scratch of satisfying my abandoned childhood hyperfixation

[elexaria]

im dusting all the cobwebs off of this acc hello everyone I’m not dead !!!!!

im starting my final year of university in september so i’m currently going through a massive creative indulgent kick (and yes i do expect to burnout eventually LMAO)

anyways! i hope you’re all well ✨

are y’all still in the COD fandom?

yee

naur bestie

Voting ended onAug 27, 2024

[elexaria]

been having creepypasta brainrot lately, probs bc i’ve been revisiting childhood hyperfixations for comfort LMAOOO but ANYWAYS i’ve been thinking about how nasty some parts of the mansion probs are 😭 majority of the creeps were in their early teens when they first came to the mansion n it was very clear from day one that all communal areas are to be kept clean and tidy

some of them are neat freaks, especially the ladies (except nina, soz but she is deffo the kind of person to collect empty monster cans and trash that looks cute LMAO her room has a bug problem :( whoops)

jeff is probs the worst human creep for it, his room is full of empty food packaging and dirty laundry covered in blood and other dubious fluids…. its so bad to the point where the two rooms next to his are empty because everyone refuses to live besides him. slender has/did try to reprimand him for his disgusting ways of living but now that jeff is an adult, slender doesn’t even have the energy to try and lecture him. instead, jeff is on beast duty. aka he has to clean up after all the non-human beings on the property 😭

[elexaria]

johnny comes home with a tarantula (he luvs all animals, especially exotic ones) absolutely beaming and glowing bc hes so stoked and simon’s stood on the kitchen counter like “i swear to god if you don’t get that bloody thing outta this house i’m packin’ me bags and i’m leavin’ ya”

[elexaria]

könig stares at the bathroom door, wry blonde eyebrows furrowed as he hesitates, raising his knuckle close to the door. for a moment, he just stands and listens— hearing you hum quietly, the gentle splash of water blending in with the hearty laugh track coming from a cheesy sitcom playing in the background. the sound of your relaxed sighs and giggles make könig’s lips twitch ever so slightly, seemingly standing before the door for what feels like forever, just wanting to bottle up the moment and savour it all while he can, when he’s not away with blood on his hands.

a rasp to the door almost brings you out of it, blinking out of your relaxed state as you hesitantly reach over to pause the show playing on your laptop. “yeah?” you call out, cocking your head slightly to the side to listen for your fiancé’s voice.

“you doing okay in there, love?” he asks softly, the timber in his thick austrian accent sending a chill down your spine. his genuine and sincere concern warms your heart.

“yeah, why?”

“just… you’ve…” he begins to mumble, and you can basically hear himself smush his face against the door.

“huh? i can’t hear you—“

and he continues to mumble even more, which makes you roll your eyes with adoration.

“kö, just come in, honey— i don’t wanna talk through a door.”

the bathroom door slowly creaks open, könig’s scarred hands snaking their way around the other side as he looks away, blushing like a teenage boy as he shuffles his way inside the doorframe.

“i just…. you’ve been in there for a while, no? you are going to be … just … all wrinkly and full of water.” he furrows his eyebrows when you giggle, still bashful and yet so concerned for you. it’s so sweet how much he cares, even if it makes no sense.

you clear your throat, and when that doesn’t rouse his attention, you resort to snapping your fingers and whistling— something he genuinely dislikes. he grunts, still furrowing his eyebrows. his stony cold eyes glance right at you, although the twitch on his lips betrays the serious expression he aims to convey. it makes you grin ear to ear.

“it’s called a soak for a reason, you know that? besides, don’t you want me to be clean?” you tease, wiggling your eyebrows playfully as you lean against the bath tub, arms propped up. a few trails of warm water trickle onto the floor below, which makes könig twitch. he’s a massive neat freak.

“mmh..” he pauses, thinking as he considers your words carefully. without hesitation, he guffaws at the idea of you not bathing. “well… perhaps this soak is not so bad when you put it this way,..” könig mutters gently, strong arms crossed over his broad chest muscles as he leans back against the doorway.

for a moment, you can swear his eyes flicker down to your flushed skin, which makes you feel bashful and shy. you playfully splash water over at him, which makes him scowl playfully over the mess. “watch it, you.” he chuckles, glancing down at the mess before using the bath mat to clean up.

“well… alright. do you.. need anything? like a towel—“ he mutters to himself, eyeing up the three fluffy towels neatly propped up on the radiator. you think, before sighing as you recline back in the warm water, eyes closed.

“could you bring me some melon? and maybe a cup of herbal tea…”

“food? in the bath? alright, it’s time for you to get out.”

and without warning, könig delves his arms into the soapy water, grinning as you gasp and wriggle away from his hands, squealing happily as he teases you <3

[elexaria]

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!

[elexaria]

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.

[elexaria]

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.