Hello! I go by Melody or Roman and my pronouns are he/she (used interchangeably). I am a fnafster and a fander sooo that’s probably all I post about.
This blog is currently in renovation
I am deleting old posts and redecorating to decide how I’m going to fit two of my interests into the one blog (or if I’ll start another one?) so.. stuff is all over the place. I apologise
Im free to evil scheming or roleplay invitations!
Welp this speaks for itself. Feel free to PM me if you wanna roleplay, theorise, or maybe just want someone to talk to. Im very lonely and I swear I am the cringiest person ever so I am in no place to judge you.
Remus thinks Janus eats dead mice and rats since he's a snake, so he brings him them as gifts to show his affection. Thank you for coming to my Ted talk
A/N: so I wrote this for my lovely friend @whattheremus for Christmas and it's kinda grown on me and I thought I'd share :)
Characters: Roman, Virgil
Relationship: platonic prinxiety (or romantic if you want)
Tw: fear of the dark, shadows, death mention, graphic descriptions of death, panic attack, hallucinations, momentary loss of speech (Roman can't talk for a bit), cursing
Word count: 3,576
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Since the beginning, darkness has been the bringer of evil. Creatures and creations thrive in the dark, waiting in the shadows for the right time to pounce. They're always hungry, always watching and waiting for you to slip up, to make a mistake, so they can have you all to themselves. The darkness doesn't care who or what you are. It doesn't care how old you are or where you're at.
All it cares about is you.
It's this same all-consuming darkness that fills every crevasse of his room, every inch of the grand bedroom was shrouded in shadow.
A bump. A crash. A rustle in the darkness.
The jerk of bedsheets. The bated breath of fear.
Roman now stared out into the darkness, eyes wide and unseeing against the pitch black of the room.
No.. no no this can't be happening-
His nightlight must have died again. Damn, he really needed to get a new one.
Dark dark dark it's too dark too dark, flooded his brain.
Curling up in his bed, he kept his eyes open, unable to ignore the looming threat slowly creeping closer. He could feel the pressure building building building, getting closer closer closer. He could feel the icy breath against his skin, and the jagged edge of darkness slicing through his flesh.
Shapes moved in the corners, hands grabbed at him from the floor. He could have sworn he saw eyes staring at him. White, dangerous eyes that bore straight through his soul and sent a shiver of pure ice down his spine. Everywhere he looked it was dark dark dark...
It was so dark.
The hands got closer, the ice got colder, and shadows grew thicker. They were touching him, choking him, suffocating him and he couldn't do anything about it.
He wanted to scream. Wanted to scream and yell and beg for mercy because he didn't know how much longer his body could stand it, how much longer his mind could stand it. His mouth opened, ready to scream-
A whimper.
A choked, cut-off whimper was all that came out. He tasted salt and saliva on his tongue, soon mixing with the blood pouring out of the indention being made by his teeth in his cheek.
He felt the hands around his neck, the hands grabbing at every inch of his body until it didn't feel like his body anymore. The darkness was violating him, consuming him, eating him alive. It was winning, after all this time it was finally winning.
And Roman could do nothing but watch.
Watch as the hands clouded his vision. Watched as the swirly inkyness of the darkness filled his senses until his mind could only chant dark dark dark. Watched as the cold fog of his breath slowly disappeared and all that was left was black.
Black.
Black..
Black...
Well, there was a reason he always wore white.
His lungs felt strained against his ribcage, too full but not full enough. He tried to breathe, tried to take a breath of that cold cold cold air. He tried to swallow, tried to wet his mouth and move his tongue. Tried to blink away the tears that formed from staring too long. Tried to strain his ears to listen for footsteps, for signs of help.
All he could do was sit. His lungs stopped working, his throat refused to swallow, his tongue refused to move. His eyes remained glued open, staring staring staring into the abyss. Around him was looming silence. Suffocating silence. There was no sound. It was a pure void, no breath, no creaks, no static, no nothing. Just...
Silence.
It felt wrong. The Mindscape was always buzzing with noise; the faint murmur of conversations, the gibberish on the tv, the boiling of water in the kettle or the scrape of a chair against the floor. There was always noise, always sound. Even at the dead of night it was loud. The refrigerator buzzing, the dishwasher humming, the washing machine thumping, or the muffled beat of music through a certain purple door. There was never silence, never quiet.
Immediately, he wanted to fill that silence.
He needed help. He needed someone to find him. He can't... He can't do this on his own, he's too weak.
Weak... Weak... Weak...
He was always the weak one, wasn't he?
He was the figment scared of the dark, scared of what's in the dark and it scared him so bad he couldn't breathe.
Breathe. Breathe. Breathe.
Right, he needed to breathe.
He just needed to focus on- what was that?
A shadow moved. A shadow moved. It crept closer. And closer. And closer. It's tendril-like fingers curled in a claw-like form waiting to rip him to shreds. It's coming coming coming. He can't escape. He can't call for help, can't fight back, can't do anything.
So he waits.
Waits for the ice cold daggers to bore into his skin. Waits for the claws to dig on either side of his trachea, cutting off all air supply. Waits for the numbness to spread along his body as he slowly loses consciousness. He waits. And waits. And waits.
A warm hand on his knee. The soft 'click' of the lamp. Roman can see the warmth of light behind his eyelids- wait, when did he close his eyes?
"Princey? Can you hear me?"
Is that..? No, it can't be- can it?
He nods his head in a jerky motion and feels the warm warm warm hand leave his knee. He tried to whimper at the loss of heat but it only came out as an exhale.
"Okay, thats,,, that's good. Um, can you speak?" He asked hesitantly.
Roman opened his mouth. Then closed it. Then opened it again. No matter how much he pushed, how much he willed his vocal cords to vibrate and his tongue to work, nothing happened. He closed his mouth and pressed his lips in a thin line, jaw clenching. He settled on shaking his head.
"No? You can't speak?" Virgil asked. A nod. "Okay, thank you for telling me. Er- letting me know. Can,, can you open your eyes?"
Roman didn't know. Was it safe? Was that thing still in here? What if Virgil wasn't real and it's just the shadows playing games with him? What if he's already unconscious and this is just a dream?
Some cruel dream.
"Hey hey none of that. I can practically hear you thinking. I'm real, Princey, I'm right here. Is it okay if I touch you?"
His nod shouldn't have been that quick.
Still, Virgil didn't hesitate to put his hand back on his knee, this time rubbing small circles with his thumb.
"Ro, can you open your eyes for me?" Virgil's voice sounded so small. So... Tired.
Oh yeah, it was the middle of the night. And he just woke Virgil up with his senseless panicking.
Great.
He nodded his head and pried his eyes open. He was met with a slightly disheveled looking Virgil; hair rumpled from sleep, clothes wrinkled, and eyeshadow missing. Were those,,, freckles?
Not now, Roman.
Roman slowly looked up and met his eyes. They were bright and alert, almost as if it was midday and he's been awake for hours. They were filled with concern and worry, his brow creased with the latter, and he instantly felt calm. He blinked once. Twice. Three times.
His eyes were working now.
"Can you name five things you can see? Or- well, point to them if you can't speak," Virgil asked and, bless him, he's acting way too patient with him. It's almost enough to make him believe he cares. Roman only nodded and proceeded to look around.
He spotted the lamp on his bedside table and pointed to it, earning a 'good' from Virgil. He looked around and pointed to the window, his desk, the bed, and Virgil. He looked over to the far right corner of his room where a hanging plant had fallen, scattering leaves and dirt all over his floor.
Huh.. so that must have been what the bump was about.
Virgil squeezed his knee.
"Good, you're doing good. Now, four things you can touch?"
Roman's hand hesitantly rested on the sheets, trembling and shaky. Was he really that scared?
"Sheets?" Virgil asked quietly. Roman nodded, and moved his hand to his pants. "Pants?"
Another nod. A shaky inhale. His hand moved to his chest.
"Shirt?" A nod. "Good, okay one more, Ro."
His hand slowly slowly slowly reached out for Virgil. It hovered just above the emo's own hand, shaking against the possibilities. What if this wasn't real? What if Virgil's not here and as soon as he touches him he'll disappear into a cloud of smoke and the light will go out and he'll be left alone alone alone-
Warm on his hand. His head jerked down, eyes landing on where Virgil's hand was now intertwined with his, thumb rubbing against his knuckles. He lifted his gaze and met Virgil's oh so kind eyes, the purple and green looking soft in the warm light of the lamp. He still looked concerned but he had calmed down a bit, now only focused on Roman.
But hadn't Roman been the center of attention for long enough?
Didn't he,,, didn't he deserve to be scared? For all the hurt, all the pain he caused? Is still causing? Shouldn't he be forced to deal with this by himself? He did so many bad things to so many good people.
Didn't he deserve a little bit of hurt?
The husky voice of a sleepy Virgil caught his attention, bringing his mind away from his thoughts.
"Did I lose you there, Princey?" Virgil whispered, tapping his hand a little bit to help ground him. A small nod was all he received, along with Roman recoiling slightly. "No no don't do that, it's okay. I'm not mad at you for spacing out, Ro."
The wave of disbelief shouldn't have hit him that hard.
Apparently it had shown, as Virgil's face instantly fell and his body jerked forward as if he wanted to give him a hug but stopped himself.
Roman should have known he wasn't worth it.
.. It still hurt though.
"Prin- Roman... You don't believe me, do you?" Roman didn't like how hollow his voice sounded. Virgil should never sound that hollow.
A small shake of a head.
"Oh, Ro... Okay. Okay um,, do you believe me when I say I'm not going to hurt you?"
A hesitant nod. A sigh of relief.
"Okay, that's good. I'm not going to hurt you, I'm here to help. I felt your anxiety about something from my room and I decided to come check it out. No no it's not your fault, come back here," he explained, pulling Roman closer by the hand as he tried to shy away again. "Do you think you can continue the exercise?"
A nod.
"Okay three things you can hear?"
Roman reached out a hand to tap Virgil's chest.
"Me?"
A nod. A nod in return.
Roman pointed to the window where trees rustled in the distance, lit up only by the faint light of the moon.
"Wind? Do you hear the wind?"
Another nod.
Roman paused, listening. He strained his ears, tried to listen for something something something.
Nothing could frown out the noise in his head.
Dark dark dark
Weak weak weak
Help me
Help me
Help me
He lifted his hand to tap against his skull.
"Your head? What do you me- do you mean the voices? Are there voices in your head Princey?"
A nod. Roman looked away from Virgil, choosing to look at the blanket below him.
"What are they saying, Ro? How can I stop them?"
A shake of his head.
"No as in you don't know how or no as in you can't?"
A nod.
"... Both?"
Another nod.
"Okay... Um.. okay two things you can smell?"
Roman lifted the blanket, burying his nose in the fluffy fabric and breathing in. It smelled like warm vanilla with a hint of strawberries. It had always smelled like this for as long as he could remember. It was his favorite blanket, one gifted to him by- well, Virgil actually. He had thrown it at him on his birthday, mumbling a quiet 'happy birthday, Princey' before he had nudged his shoulder and shuffled out of the room.
That was four years ago now, shortly after Virgil was first accepted. Used to, it would bring up memories, painful memories that Roman only dared to think back to when he needed to remind himself how much of a screw up he was. But looking at it now, looking at how far Virgil has come... It filled Roman with pride. Seeing him go from the shy, anxious, introverted side to the openly kind, caring, and snarky one now sitting on his bed trying to calm him down.
Roman couldn't think he had ever met such a brave person before.
"Okay, your blanket? Wait, isn't that…" Virgil paused, taking a moment to fully register the blanket.
"You kept it?" Virgil whispered out. If Roman was looking hard enough, he would notice that the corners of his mouth were slightly turned up into a barely-there smile.
Not that he was looking, of course.
He nodded and pulled the blanket more in his lap, smiling at how Virgil let out a huff of laughter before rubbing the back of his neck.
"I didn't think you'd keep it, if I was being honest. Thought you'd just kept it in your closet or something."
Roman shook his head almost frantically, hugging the blanket closer to his chest. He opened his mouth, trying to push out the words of "it's my favorite because it reminds me of you" or "I keep it in here so I know it's safe" but nothing comes out. He huffs and tries again. Nothing.
A soft hand finds his in the fluff of the blanket and Romans eyes snap forward.
"It's okay it's okay, I get it now. You like the blanket. It's okay. I'm glad you like it," he said with a smile, his sentence trailing off at the end as he looked down to their once again intertwined hands. "Can you name one more thing you can smell?"
Roman carefully untangled his hand from Virgils where it sat on his knee and tapped Virgil's chest, earning a raised eyebrow in return.
"Me?"
A nod.
The smell of black coffee and chocolate icing. It was one that Roman could never get used to and he didn't think he ever could. It was so distinct, two rich scents mixing into one. It was so very much Virgil that it was hard to ignore. He absolutely adored it.
I guess it's good that vanilla and chocolate go well together.
"Huh.. okay we're definitely coming back to that later- One last thing, something you can taste?"
Salt.
Roman tapped his eyes with his finger before looking down at their hands again, finding comfort in the foreign yet familiar gesture.
"Eyes? No, that's weird. Um, what do yo- oh.... Tears."
A final nod. Virgil grabbed his free hand with his own, now holding both of his hands and resting them against the soft blanket.
"Do you think you can speak now? Or try to, at least?"
Virgil was so soft with him, so sweet and careful and oh so caring. It made Roman want to explode. It made him want to scream and wail and cry and shake because he knew he didn't deserve this softness. He didn't deserve this kindness being given to him so freely.
But Roman wanted to try. He wanted to earn that kindness, wanted to work up to the point where simple actions such as these were normal. He wanted to get better, wanted to be better.
And maybe this was how he started.
He took a deep breath and closed his eyes, focusing on the words words words in his brain before opening his mouth.
"I-i'm sorry.."
It was barely a whisper, more of a croak, but it was words. He opened his eyes to see Virgil looking at him with- shock??
"Princey... What the fuck do you have to be sorry for?"
".. I woke... Woke you up-"
"No, you didn't. I woke up because of your anxiety."
"But thats-"
"Not the same thing. You can't control your anxiety, Ro. It just happens. You had no control over it and it wasn't your fault."
"But-"
"No, no buts. It's. Not. Your. Fault. Can you repeat after me please? It's not your fault."
"It's not your fault."
Virgil huffed out a laugh and swatted at his arm, causing the princely side to shyly smile.
"No- I mean say it for yourself, you smartass!"
"It's not my fault. It's not.. it's not my fault.."
"There you go. Are you feeling better now?" Virgil's fingers traced a few scars on his hands, one of them traveling up his forearm where his skin was littered with hundreds of tiny marks. Roman nodded and cleared his throat, coughing at the dryness.
"Yeah, I'm.. I'm better. Thank you, Virgil," he offered a small smile, earning a little smirk in return.
"Don't mention it, I was glad I could help."
There was a beat of silence where neither of them spoke, only the faint sound of fingertips against skin could be heard as Virgil kept tracing his scars. He didn't mind, he was just glad that someone actually enjoyed them.
"Hey, can I ask you something?"
"You just did"
"Well can I ask you something again then?"
"Sure, go ahead."
"What freaked you out earlier? Was it a nightmare?"
Roman froze from where he was picking at his blanket. His muscles tensed and Virgil must have noticed because he immediately backtracked.
"Sorry! I'm so sorry, that was really insensitive of me of course you don't want to talk about it why would I pressure you into telling me that's really bad to do and I'm so sorry-"
Roman took a deep breath and placed his free hand over Virgils, bringing it slowly down from it's paused position in the air and curling his fingers around his.
"It's okay, Vi. It... It wasn't a nightmare"
"Okay. Wait then- what was it? Y-you don't have to answer though-!"
"It's okay, I... I want to. I need to. It's the only way I'll get better," he took a deep breath. "Do you remember in the episode 'Embarrassing Phases' when the lights went out?"
"Um... Yeah but what does that have to do with this?"
"Well, I'm... I-... um..."
"It's okay, take your time. You don't have to tell me if you don't want to."
"No, I- I have to. I have to tell you, it's the only way I can fix it. I just- need a second."
"I'll be right here."
Roman squeezed his hand in a silent thanks before taking a breath. How is he supposed to admit his greatest fear? How is he supposed to be the prince if he's scared of something so trivial as the dark? What if Virgil will think less of him after he tells him?
But... Virgil's better than that. He's accepting. He's learned to look through multiple perspectives, to see a story from both sides. He... He wouldn't judge him, not now.
He can always take a page out of Virgil's book. Rip it off like a bandaid.
"I-i'm scared of the dark."
A beat of silence.
"What?"
"I'm... I'm scared of the dark?" It came out as more of a question and Roman felt his ears turn pink with shame. He kept his eyes locked on the blanket, not daring to look away. To look up and see Virgil's face of disappointment, of disapproval. Or worse, of disgust.
"Ro, how long has this been going on?" Virgil asked. He sounded too soft, too hesitant, too... Careful.
Roman shrugged.
"How long?" Firmer. Pressing. Concern.
"Since we were kids.."
A sharp inhale.
"Kids!? Ro, we... I didn't know, i-"
"It's okay, Virgil. I didn't want you to know. I didn't want any of you to know. I still don't..."
"Wait is that- is that why you ask for the lamp to be on during movie nights?"
"Maybe..."
"And the hallway nightlights?"
"Yeah..."
"And the one in your room?"
"Yeah but… It died. The.. the bulb went out or or something, I dunno. I just- I woke up when that plant fell and it was pitch black. I-i couldn't see. I couldn't breathe. I-i couldn't move. It was suffocating, Virgil. It was consuming me and all I could do was sit there and watch-!!"
Warm hands on his face, thumbs gliding across his cheeks. Wetness under his eyes. Oh, he must've been crying.
How weak.
"Shh shh easy now, it's okay. It's gone, the darkness is gone. I'm here now, I'm right here. Breathe, Princey."
He took a breath, the warm air filling his lungs. It felt like forever ago when that warm air was icy cold and his lungs burned with each breath.
He ended up burying himself in Virgil's shoulder, only now realizing the stormcloud only had a t-shirt and loose boxers on. Virgil wrapped his arms around his shoulders, tugging him closer and rubbing his back. Roman sniffled occasionally, eventually wrapping his arms around Virgil's waist.
For the first time in years, he finally felt warm.
