romcomeon - Tumblr blog

[romcomeon]

Once upon a time ago I drew the girlies as classic horror movie villains and Ash Williams based off some genderbent figures. It's old but still gold Happy Spook Month~

[romcomeon]

Obey Me! Playlist

[romcomeon]

𝐠𝐫𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬𝐪𝐮𝐞 𝐝𝐢𝐬𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲.

ft. solomon x gn!mc | " that boy is a monster " | zombie!solomon au / early halloween special featuring our beloved immortal sorcerer... or is he? cw: blood, biting[ just to be sure ], signs of decay | if you are uncomfortable with such, PLEASE SCROLL ; wc = approx. 1.7K

It is human nature to keep dark, bloody secrets.

That sickeningly sweet smell of decadent flesh, carefully paired with a bright savory drizzle of blood and barrage of soft tissue — all perfectly packaged into an impeccable main course near complete from being served atop a dinner table.

You were torture; Solomon could no longer resist.

Locked away in the safe confines of his room, his nails scratching the underside of his hardwood desk. Traces of luminous liquid splatter on the floor in spontaneous droplets, syncs of 'pitter-patter' as the pool casts a mirror-like shine with arrays of blazing candlelight illuminating the study. For speckles and shards of broken glass have scattered across the table.

The sorcerer pants, his head hung low as he tries to catch his breath. What little remained of his beating heart and working lungs, idly coming to a halt with every 'tick' of the grandfather clock mounted against blood-stained carpet walls.

It was a day he dreaded most. The day his self-restraining elixir loosens from its knot along the woven thread.

With a simple nudge then slip of his hand, the bright diamond-shaped vile smashes itself on the table's surface. His last hope, oozing in a small puddle, rendering the potion useless.

Curses muttered beneath shaky breaths: that vile was airtight for a reason. "Drat." Solomon's voice cracked, with each gasp of air growing more frantic than the last.

His hand lifts itself up and tangles within platinum locks, feeling his hair grow thinner with each pulling stroke. Whisked in the air was the growing aroma of oxidized flesh, tickling his nostrils, causing his mouth to salivate.

No.

The heavens forbid he turns into the cadaver buried all those centuries ago. Every twitch of gray eyes whose irises slowly turn translucent, every prick of blood trailing from the corner of his lips, every sign of life losing itself from his fingertips.

You feel the wooden door crash against its frame, locking you with the sorcerer. A fellow human, you thought.

"A fellow human," you hoped still. You could only stand in horror, watching as the familiar figure morphs itself in tainted galore, with every following tick leaving the other gnawing at the high black collar for his turtleneck.

For one second he was his usual cunning self, entertaining your simple choice of visiting Purgatory Hall.

Despite the warm welcome, you've noticed how his usual light skin had gotten paler, almost gray and dry. How the bags under his eyes grew more prominent. How with every chance he took a stealing glance, his breath hitches; lens scanning you with underlying intent.

"Have you been sleeping?" you asked, placing the cup of a nauseating mixture of spices on the table.

Solomon raises a brow. "Hm?"

You simply cocked your head, pointing at the glaring dark circles on his face. "Your eyes. You look dead as hell," you said.

"Ah," he followed with a soft chuckle. "It's from spell research. Not to worry."

You hummed in discontent —that wasn't the answer you wanted. "You always say that," you pouted, resting your chin on your hand, with your elbow supported by the plush blue armrest. "What are even you researching anyway?"

He sighed, taking a sip of his concoction. "It's rather important," he says in rehearsed diction, before staring back at you with that lingering gaze once more.

Seems like you could never get a proper answer, only averting your eyes so as to not shiver from his blatant choice of action. Had it not been obvious? You think he wasn't able to catch himself this time. Sure you recalled the moments of his longing stare, but those were different. Those were momentary glimpses that he'd use to tease you when given the incentive.

These were different.

Those weren't the only oddities you've noticed. Along the cuffs was an ombre of muddled blue, with veins bulging from its underside. Before you were able to point it out, Solomon excuses himself, tugging his sleeve to cover the marks.

You blurted out in concern, "where are you going?"

Solomon clears his throat, his expression, once blank and unassuming, quickly shifts to a reassuring smile. "Nothing, just something... urgent."

You see the latter's face turn bitter, seconds before he coughs into the palm of his hand.

With a shake of his head, he wipes whatever residue remained, closing his eyes as he gives you one final look. Solomon spoke through gritted teeth.

"Stay here."

Before you were able to interject, the sorcerer strides off to his room.

You hear the 'tap' of leather shoes against tiles grow quicker, yet fainter, the further he goes away. You were left sitting there, on the couch, with two cups and a teapot. As the echoes mellow down to an eerie silence, you felt something shiver down your spine.

The warm atmosphere shifted to an unnerving heat, with chills adding up as the flames burning within the living room lamps started to muffle out.

Luke and Simeon didn't seem to be here, and Raphael had been called back to the Celestial Realm upon Michael's request.

You took one final scan across the room: shelves open and hanging, plants wilted and dying, lights beyond blinding — the room beyond empty.

That caused you to get up, immediately inspecting the armchair in search for any more clues. Squinting your eyes, you knelt down on one knee, finger tracing over the brown dried up residue, slashes and mists that have long since passed.

The liquid trailed off to the underside of one of the pillows. You hesitate for a moment, your peripheral view scanning for any peering eyes.

Now that you've assessed that the coast was clear, you gently picked up the large cushion, angling along one of the many blazing lights to take a proper view of what you suspected was underneath.

You shrieked, causing the cushion to fly off and hit the light turquoise walls. Reflective fabric, with subtle hints of gold.

The brash ring of shattered glass bounces along the walls, hitting your ear without warning. You flinched again before making any further assessment, causing you to slowly turn your head towards the now dark, barren hallway; with a luminescent crimson glow beneath the doorframe.

The end of the cold marble hall marked the end of it all.

That was moments ago, before you started wishing to have moved cowardly, escaping this haunted wasteland before luring yourself in a weathered cage.

Inhale. Exhale.

Deep breath in, deep breath out. Your eyes shut tight, your feet twisting and turning you to face back.

In moments if your timing is just right, you'd swiftly open the door by the handle and dash long the halls. It didn't matter how long the run would be. You had to leave.

One step, and his erratic suffocation stops.

The eerie tension palpable in the air got thicker, cutting through the fog and reforming with ease. Your lips quivered, whispers growing louder with each dropping note. "What did you do to them?"

There was no response. You were only greeted by the unburied silence.

Two steps, and you hear the floor creak.

It was subtle, though you feel the walls inch closer, cornering you from him. Whatever he was. Be damned, whatever monstrosity extinguished the light of humanity.

His motions felt precise and calculated, yet wild and uncontrolled. Your ears could pick up the soles of his shoes grazing against the floor, as if he’s dragging through a limping stance. It’s inconsistent, almost as if the little spark surviving in his core tries to reignite and rule over his carcass.

The tiny sounds stop, but continue again with every branch his conscience falls.

Solomon mumbled incoherent phrases, his voice slurred but retained his clear and concise diction. Like a fork to a plate, his prolonging the roll of the ‘r’s or ‘ch’ of ‘ts’ only further cemented the anguish.

Three steps, and his hands found your body.

Solomon pulls himself closer, limbs dangling as his hands would only cling tightly onto any grasp of loose fabric. You feel a gush of cold air hitting against your neck, with his revellent embrace sinking you into his ashen body. His lips graze over your lower neck down towards your shoulder. Solomon lowered his gazing, taking a whiff of your intoxicatingly delectable scent.

He shook in delight, cocking up his head to whisper in your ear.

“Starlight…” 

Bloodshot speech with a croak of each syllable, but something was different. Solomon chuckled — that all too bastardous sneer you came to know and admire. The shift in tone and pitch had his timbre stabilize, as if you could picture his coy smile atop the barren pale face whom ghosts your every whim.

“Moni..?” you asked, your voice nearly squeaks.

“Oh, starlight,” Solomon hummed, thumb gliding along your chin in expertise. “You shouldn’t see me like this. Gifted to live forever but, at what cost?”

He lifts your chin up, while his other hand pushes back locks of hair that guarded your neck. 

Solomon sighed, “keeps your eyes away. I'll handle the rest....” 

"You shouldn't have seen this," he grunted, almost annoyed.

You gulped, yet obliged with his words. Eye remained shut, feeling him inch closer. “What are you doing?” 

Solomon shushes you, giving your neck one final kiss. It was like that for a few moments, gentle praises while the reek of a living corpse circulates your thoughts.

“Would you hate me if I did this?” Solomon asked. That question came when you feel the lining of his teeth press on your skin, digging deeper like a tease, yet horrific with how it pained even in the dullest touch.

Your demeanor faltered, your foot lifting to take the final step. “If I?”

Burked by the absence of common ground, yet arguably, he’s human still. Only proven by a simple answer, after Solomon playfully nips at the tougher parts of your cartridge.

“We’ve dealt with other atrocities before. Certainly, I can accept the offer of being…” Solomon trailed off.

A final cheer was the last you could hear.

— would you take the fourth step?

check out my masterlist! | divider by cafekitsune

[romcomeon]

pretty please let me live inside your brain, beautiful

[romcomeon]

*cracks knuckles* I am prepared for this question. Filipino edition cus why tf not <3

Solomon is ESPASOL - the reason stems from an inside joke on how you have to cough through the flour before being able to taste the actual dessert. It's weird at first but soon becomes an addiction over time.

or even HALO-HALO - a mix of multiple desserts that don't seem to go together, though you'd be surprised how good the combination turns out to be.

Simeon is something classic like PUTO [the dessert, not the spanish swear word] - light, fluffy dessert that disappears as soon as it is introduced to the dining table. it is THAT good.

Diavolo reminds me of KUTSINTA - sweet and sticky and paired with coconut. the most unassuming though at the end of it all, it becomes most people's favourite.

Barbatos is my beloved little CASSAVA CAKE - I cannot put my explanation into words. it just makes sense.

Mammon is a MAMON. I rest my case.

Satan is an ESAYMADA - sweet and salty like his words and personality.

Belphie is any UBE dessert - comforting. Plus it is purple so + points.

I am too tired to think of other stuff for the others so.. have this for now <3

Very important question

If the obey me characters are desserts, what kind of desserts they are? Also what kind of flavours they are?🤓☝️

Asking for a friend cough coughs-

[romcomeon]

lord of shadow

[romcomeon]

this is so stupid hahaha

It's early in the morning and I just thought of a stupid idea that a certain Satan fan may like 👁️👁️

[romcomeon]

— 𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐆 𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐄 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄!

dear-tortured-adam → romcomeon

[romcomeon]

Hey Eden!! Guess whooo 👀

*gasp*

ORIN!!!! GLAD TO HAVE YOU BACK BBYYY

[romcomeon]

It's early in the morning and I just thought of a stupid idea that a certain Satan fan may like 👁️👁️

[romcomeon]

250 notes and we'll see if I'll be continuing this or nah

𝐠𝐫𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬𝐪𝐮𝐞 𝐝𝐢𝐬𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲.

ft. solomon x gn!mc | " that boy is a monster " | zombie!solomon au / early halloween special featuring our beloved immortal sorcerer... or is he? cw: blood, biting[ just to be sure ], signs of decay | if you are uncomfortable with such, PLEASE SCROLL ; wc = approx. 1.7K

It is human nature to keep dark, bloody secrets.

That sickeningly sweet smell of decadent flesh, carefully paired with a bright savory drizzle of blood and barrage of soft tissue — all perfectly packaged into an impeccable main course near complete from being served atop a dinner table.

You were torture; Solomon could no longer resist.

Locked away in the safe confines of his room, his nails scratching the underside of his hardwood desk. Traces of luminous liquid splatter on the floor in spontaneous droplets, syncs of 'pitter-patter' as the pool casts a mirror-like shine with arrays of blazing candlelight illuminating the study. For speckles and shards of broken glass have scattered across the table.

The sorcerer pants, his head hung low as he tries to catch his breath. What little remained of his beating heart and working lungs, idly coming to a halt with every 'tick' of the grandfather clock mounted against blood-stained carpet walls.

It was a day he dreaded most. The day his self-restraining elixir loosens from its knot along the woven thread.

With a simple nudge then slip of his hand, the bright diamond-shaped vile smashes itself on the table's surface. His last hope, oozing in a small puddle, rendering the potion useless.

Curses muttered beneath shaky breaths: that vile was airtight for a reason. "Drat." Solomon's voice cracked, with each gasp of air growing more frantic than the last.

His hand lifts itself up and tangles within platinum locks, feeling his hair grow thinner with each pulling stroke. Whisked in the air was the growing aroma of oxidized flesh, tickling his nostrils, causing his mouth to salivate.

No.

The heavens forbid he turns into the cadaver buried all those centuries ago. Every twitch of gray eyes whose irises slowly turn translucent, every prick of blood trailing from the corner of his lips, every sign of life losing itself from his fingertips.

You feel the wooden door crash against its frame, locking you with the sorcerer. A fellow human, you thought.

"A fellow human," you hoped still. You could only stand in horror, watching as the familiar figure morphs itself in tainted galore, with every following tick leaving the other gnawing at the high black collar for his turtleneck.

For one second he was his usual cunning self, entertaining your simple choice of visiting Purgatory Hall.

Despite the warm welcome, you've noticed how his usual light skin had gotten paler, almost gray and dry. How the bags under his eyes grew more prominent. How with every chance he took a stealing glance, his breath hitches; lens scanning you with underlying intent.

"Have you been sleeping?" you asked, placing the cup of a nauseating mixture of spices on the table.

Solomon raises a brow. "Hm?"

You simply cocked your head, pointing at the glaring dark circles on his face. "Your eyes. You look dead as hell," you said.

"Ah," he followed with a soft chuckle. "It's from spell research. Not to worry."

You hummed in discontent —that wasn't the answer you wanted. "You always say that," you pouted, resting your chin on your hand, with your elbow supported by the plush blue armrest. "What are even you researching anyway?"

He sighed, taking a sip of his concoction. "It's rather important," he says in rehearsed diction, before staring back at you with that lingering gaze once more.

Seems like you could never get a proper answer, only averting your eyes so as to not shiver from his blatant choice of action. Had it not been obvious? You think he wasn't able to catch himself this time. Sure you recalled the moments of his longing stare, but those were different. Those were momentary glimpses that he'd use to tease you when given the incentive.

These were different.

Those weren't the only oddities you've noticed. Along the cuffs was an ombre of muddled blue, with veins bulging from its underside. Before you were able to point it out, Solomon excuses himself, tugging his sleeve to cover the marks.

You blurted out in concern, "where are you going?"

Solomon clears his throat, his expression, once blank and unassuming, quickly shifts to a reassuring smile. "Nothing, just something... urgent."

You see the latter's face turn bitter, seconds before he coughs into the palm of his hand.

With a shake of his head, he wipes whatever residue remained, closing his eyes as he gives you one final look. Solomon spoke through gritted teeth.

"Stay here."

Before you were able to interject, the sorcerer strides off to his room.

You hear the 'tap' of leather shoes against tiles grow quicker, yet fainter, the further he goes away. You were left sitting there, on the couch, with two cups and a teapot. As the echoes mellow down to an eerie silence, you felt something shiver down your spine.

The warm atmosphere shifted to an unnerving heat, with chills adding up as the flames burning within the living room lamps started to muffle out.

Luke and Simeon didn't seem to be here, and Raphael had been called back to the Celestial Realm upon Michael's request.

You took one final scan across the room: shelves open and hanging, plants wilted and dying, lights beyond blinding — the room beyond empty.

That caused you to get up, immediately inspecting the armchair in search for any more clues. Squinting your eyes, you knelt down on one knee, finger tracing over the brown dried up residue, slashes and mists that have long since passed.

The liquid trailed off to the underside of one of the pillows. You hesitate for a moment, your peripheral view scanning for any peering eyes.

Now that you've assessed that the coast was clear, you gently picked up the large cushion, angling along one of the many blazing lights to take a proper view of what you suspected was underneath.

You shrieked, causing the cushion to fly off and hit the light turquoise walls. Reflective fabric, with subtle hints of gold.

The brash ring of shattered glass bounces along the walls, hitting your ear without warning. You flinched again before making any further assessment, causing you to slowly turn your head towards the now dark, barren hallway; with a luminescent crimson glow beneath the doorframe.

The end of the cold marble hall marked the end of it all.

That was moments ago, before you started wishing to have moved cowardly, escaping this haunted wasteland before luring yourself in a weathered cage.

Inhale. Exhale.

Deep breath in, deep breath out. Your eyes shut tight, your feet twisting and turning you to face back.

In moments if your timing is just right, you'd swiftly open the door by the handle and dash long the halls. It didn't matter how long the run would be. You had to leave.

One step, and his erratic suffocation stops.

The eerie tension palpable in the air got thicker, cutting through the fog and reforming with ease. Your lips quivered, whispers growing louder with each dropping note. "What did you do to them?"

There was no response. You were only greeted by the unburied silence.

Two steps, and you hear the floor creak.

It was subtle, though you feel the walls inch closer, cornering you from him. Whatever he was. Be damned, whatever monstrosity extinguished the light of humanity.

His motions felt precise and calculated, yet wild and uncontrolled. Your ears could pick up the soles of his shoes grazing against the floor, as if he’s dragging through a limping stance. It’s inconsistent, almost as if the little spark surviving in his core tries to reignite and rule over his carcass.

The tiny sounds stop, but continue again with every branch his conscience falls.

Solomon mumbled incoherent phrases, his voice slurred but retained his clear and concise diction. Like a fork to a plate, his prolonging the roll of the ‘r’s or ‘ch’ of ‘ts’ only further cemented the anguish.

Three steps, and his hands found your body.

Solomon pulls himself closer, limbs dangling as his hands would only cling tightly onto any grasp of loose fabric. You feel a gush of cold air hitting against your neck, with his revellent embrace sinking you into his ashen body. His lips graze over your lower neck down towards your shoulder. Solomon lowered his gazing, taking a whiff of your intoxicatingly delectable scent.

He shook in delight, cocking up his head to whisper in your ear.

“Starlight…” 

Bloodshot speech with a croak of each syllable, but something was different. Solomon chuckled — that all too bastardous sneer you came to know and admire. The shift in tone and pitch had his timbre stabilize, as if you could picture his coy smile atop the barren pale face whom ghosts your every whim.

“Moni..?” you asked, your voice nearly squeaks.

“Oh, starlight,” Solomon hummed, thumb gliding along your chin in expertise. “You shouldn’t see me like this. Gifted to live forever but, at what cost?”

He lifts your chin up, while his other hand pushes back locks of hair that guarded your neck. 

Solomon sighed, “keeps your eyes away. I'll handle the rest....” 

"You shouldn't have seen this," he grunted, almost annoyed.

You gulped, yet obliged with his words. Eye remained shut, feeling him inch closer. “What are you doing?” 

Solomon shushes you, giving your neck one final kiss. It was like that for a few moments, gentle praises while the reek of a living corpse circulates your thoughts.

“Would you hate me if I did this?” Solomon asked. That question came when you feel the lining of his teeth press on your skin, digging deeper like a tease, yet horrific with how it pained even in the dullest touch.

Your demeanor faltered, your foot lifting to take the final step. “If I?”

Burked by the absence of common ground, yet arguably, he’s human still. Only proven by a simple answer, after Solomon playfully nips at the tougher parts of your cartridge.

“We’ve dealt with other atrocities before. Certainly, I can accept the offer of being…” Solomon trailed off.

A final cheer was the last you could hear.

— would you take the fourth step?

check out my masterlist! | divider by cafekitsune

[romcomeon]

𝐠𝐫𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬𝐪𝐮𝐞 𝐝𝐢𝐬𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲.

ft. solomon x gn!mc | " that boy is a monster " | zombie!solomon au / early halloween special featuring our beloved immortal sorcerer... or is he? cw: blood, biting[ just to be sure ], signs of decay | if you are uncomfortable with such, PLEASE SCROLL ; wc = approx. 1.7K

It is human nature to keep dark, bloody secrets.

That sickeningly sweet smell of decadent flesh, carefully paired with a bright savory drizzle of blood and barrage of soft tissue — all perfectly packaged into an impeccable main course near complete from being served atop a dinner table.

You were torture; Solomon could no longer resist.

Locked away in the safe confines of his room, his nails scratching the underside of his hardwood desk. Traces of luminous liquid splatter on the floor in spontaneous droplets, syncs of 'pitter-patter' as the pool casts a mirror-like shine with arrays of blazing candlelight illuminating the study. For speckles and shards of broken glass have scattered across the table.

The sorcerer pants, his head hung low as he tries to catch his breath. What little remained of his beating heart and working lungs, idly coming to a halt with every 'tick' of the grandfather clock mounted against blood-stained carpet walls.

It was a day he dreaded most. The day his self-restraining elixir loosens from its knot along the woven thread.

With a simple nudge then slip of his hand, the bright diamond-shaped vile smashes itself on the table's surface. His last hope, oozing in a small puddle, rendering the potion useless.

Curses muttered beneath shaky breaths: that vile was airtight for a reason. "Drat." Solomon's voice cracked, with each gasp of air growing more frantic than the last.

His hand lifts itself up and tangles within platinum locks, feeling his hair grow thinner with each pulling stroke. Whisked in the air was the growing aroma of oxidized flesh, tickling his nostrils, causing his mouth to salivate.

No.

The heavens forbid he turns into the cadaver buried all those centuries ago. Every twitch of gray eyes whose irises slowly turn translucent, every prick of blood trailing from the corner of his lips, every sign of life losing itself from his fingertips.

You feel the wooden door crash against its frame, locking you with the sorcerer. A fellow human, you thought.

"A fellow human," you hoped still. You could only stand in horror, watching as the familiar figure morphs itself in tainted galore, with every following tick leaving the other gnawing at the high black collar for his turtleneck.

For one second he was his usual cunning self, entertaining your simple choice of visiting Purgatory Hall.

Despite the warm welcome, you've noticed how his usual light skin had gotten paler, almost gray and dry. How the bags under his eyes grew more prominent. How with every chance he took a stealing glance, his breath hitches; lens scanning you with underlying intent.

"Have you been sleeping?" you asked, placing the cup of a nauseating mixture of spices on the table.

Solomon raises a brow. "Hm?"

You simply cocked your head, pointing at the glaring dark circles on his face. "Your eyes. You look dead as hell," you said.

"Ah," he followed with a soft chuckle. "It's from spell research. Not to worry."

You hummed in discontent —that wasn't the answer you wanted. "You always say that," you pouted, resting your chin on your hand, with your elbow supported by the plush blue armrest. "What are even you researching anyway?"

He sighed, taking a sip of his concoction. "It's rather important," he says in rehearsed diction, before staring back at you with that lingering gaze once more.

Seems like you could never get a proper answer, only averting your eyes so as to not shiver from his blatant choice of action. Had it not been obvious? You think he wasn't able to catch himself this time. Sure you recalled the moments of his longing stare, but those were different. Those were momentary glimpses that he'd use to tease you when given the incentive.

These were different.

Those weren't the only oddities you've noticed. Along the cuffs was an ombre of muddled blue, with veins bulging from its underside. Before you were able to point it out, Solomon excuses himself, tugging his sleeve to cover the marks.

You blurted out in concern, "where are you going?"

Solomon clears his throat, his expression, once blank and unassuming, quickly shifts to a reassuring smile. "Nothing, just something... urgent."

You see the latter's face turn bitter, seconds before he coughs into the palm of his hand.

With a shake of his head, he wipes whatever residue remained, closing his eyes as he gives you one final look. Solomon spoke through gritted teeth.

"Stay here."

Before you were able to interject, the sorcerer strides off to his room.

You hear the 'tap' of leather shoes against tiles grow quicker, yet fainter, the further he goes away. You were left sitting there, on the couch, with two cups and a teapot. As the echoes mellow down to an eerie silence, you felt something shiver down your spine.

The warm atmosphere shifted to an unnerving heat, with chills adding up as the flames burning within the living room lamps started to muffle out.

Luke and Simeon didn't seem to be here, and Raphael had been called back to the Celestial Realm upon Michael's request.

You took one final scan across the room: shelves open and hanging, plants wilted and dying, lights beyond blinding — the room beyond empty.

That caused you to get up, immediately inspecting the armchair in search for any more clues. Squinting your eyes, you knelt down on one knee, finger tracing over the brown dried up residue, slashes and mists that have long since passed.

The liquid trailed off to the underside of one of the pillows. You hesitate for a moment, your peripheral view scanning for any peering eyes.

Now that you've assessed that the coast was clear, you gently picked up the large cushion, angling along one of the many blazing lights to take a proper view of what you suspected was underneath.

You shrieked, causing the cushion to fly off and hit the light turquoise walls. Reflective fabric, with subtle hints of gold.

The brash ring of shattered glass bounces along the walls, hitting your ear without warning. You flinched again before making any further assessment, causing you to slowly turn your head towards the now dark, barren hallway; with a luminescent crimson glow beneath the doorframe.

The end of the cold marble hall marked the end of it all.

That was moments ago, before you started wishing to have moved cowardly, escaping this haunted wasteland before luring yourself in a weathered cage.

Inhale. Exhale.

Deep breath in, deep breath out. Your eyes shut tight, your feet twisting and turning you to face back.

In moments if your timing is just right, you'd swiftly open the door by the handle and dash long the halls. It didn't matter how long the run would be. You had to leave.

One step, and his erratic suffocation stops.

The eerie tension palpable in the air got thicker, cutting through the fog and reforming with ease. Your lips quivered, whispers growing louder with each dropping note. "What did you do to them?"

There was no response. You were only greeted by the unburied silence.

Two steps, and you hear the floor creak.

It was subtle, though you feel the walls inch closer, cornering you from him. Whatever he was. Be damned, whatever monstrosity extinguished the light of humanity.

His motions felt precise and calculated, yet wild and uncontrolled. Your ears could pick up the soles of his shoes grazing against the floor, as if he’s dragging through a limping stance. It’s inconsistent, almost as if the little spark surviving in his core tries to reignite and rule over his carcass.

The tiny sounds stop, but continue again with every branch his conscience falls.

Solomon mumbled incoherent phrases, his voice slurred but retained his clear and concise diction. Like a fork to a plate, his prolonging the roll of the ‘r’s or ‘ch’ of ‘ts’ only further cemented the anguish.

Three steps, and his hands found your body.

Solomon pulls himself closer, limbs dangling as his hands would only cling tightly onto any grasp of loose fabric. You feel a gush of cold air hitting against your neck, with his revellent embrace sinking you into his ashen body. His lips graze over your lower neck down towards your shoulder. Solomon lowered his gazing, taking a whiff of your intoxicatingly delectable scent.

He shook in delight, cocking up his head to whisper in your ear.

“Starlight…” 

Bloodshot speech with a croak of each syllable, but something was different. Solomon chuckled — that all too bastardous sneer you came to know and admire. The shift in tone and pitch had his timbre stabilize, as if you could picture his coy smile atop the barren pale face whom ghosts your every whim.

“Moni..?” you asked, your voice nearly squeaks.

“Oh, starlight,” Solomon hummed, thumb gliding along your chin in expertise. “You shouldn’t see me like this. Gifted to live forever but, at what cost?”

He lifts your chin up, while his other hand pushes back locks of hair that guarded your neck. 

Solomon sighed, “keeps your eyes away. I'll handle the rest....” 

"You shouldn't have seen this," he grunted, almost annoyed.

You gulped, yet obliged with his words. Eye remained shut, feeling him inch closer. “What are you doing?” 

Solomon shushes you, giving your neck one final kiss. It was like that for a few moments, gentle praises while the reek of a living corpse circulates your thoughts.

“Would you hate me if I did this?” Solomon asked. That question came when you feel the lining of his teeth press on your skin, digging deeper like a tease, yet horrific with how it pained even in the dullest touch.

Your demeanor faltered, your foot lifting to take the final step. “If I?”

Burked by the absence of common ground, yet arguably, he’s human still. Only proven by a simple answer, after Solomon playfully nips at the tougher parts of your cartridge.

“We’ve dealt with other atrocities before. Certainly, I can accept the offer of being…” Solomon trailed off.

A final cheer was the last you could hear.

— would you take the fourth step?

check out my masterlist! | divider by cafekitsune

[romcomeon]

Participated a summer project for Solomon on Twitter🏖️🕺

[romcomeon]

HI EDENN!! what did reader see when they held up the cushion!! did moni commit some atrocities to the members of purgatory hall 🧍‍♂️🧍‍♂️🧍‍♂️ (also zombie!aolomon.. WOAH……)

HAII HYO BBY!! how are youuuu

That question is easily answered by Moni's little excerpt in his masterlist!

Okay but to actually answer the question: yes. don't worry though, they're alive for now <3

[romcomeon]

THE MAN, THE MYTH, THE LEGEND'S BIRTHDAY WHUUUUU!!! 🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡

DAY 90 HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO THE SOURCE OF MY DAILY SUFFERING WOOOOO 🎉🎉

[romcomeon]

theeee lady gaga fans I drew some weeks back

[romcomeon]

What's your thoughts on vegan zombies?

Hmmm... To be fair, if it's the zombie's preference then go off! I do wonder if they'd still attack humans to ease the bloodlust, only in ways of not consuming them?

It's an interesting take, nonnie! And I'm open for any interpretation, though as of the moment I could picture it as a great satire, if that makes sense?