Dwight Oliver Nicholas Fairfield

An RP Blog for Dwight Fairfield! Written by Heath E.

[memingursa-deactivated20250625]

He said WHAT

[thereddestofsons]

Hey, so this actually is a form of fake news. The tweet specifically ignores the context of the conversation - Nato. Here are some other quotes from President Biden during this interview:

"I asked the — our NATO Allies that we bring on the group from the South Pacific: Australia, New Zealand, Japan-"

"And, by the way, I was able to get 50 other nations — 50 — five-zero — to support Ukraine.  Fifty.  And we were able to bring about a coalition between — in — of Europe and Asia — Japan and South Korea."

"I just met with — we’ve talked about AUKUS and we talked about the relationship between Australia, New Zealand, Japan, South Korea, the United States. We’re making the world safer and stronger, because we have to deal with a new arrangement that exists in the world"

Listen, I don't give a shit about Biden, but I hate fake news. South Korea and Japan have had 80 years of history now post WW2, and it is bizarre to claim that Biden is out of his mind for saying "I brought them both to the table to help support ukraine". Context matters, and your goddamn bad faith interpretation of literally goddamn everything is annoying as hell. Shame on y'all

[marzipanandminutiae]

everyone in the notes is taking the original tweet at face value and I'm terrified for the country as a result

but also like. WHY would you assume that's something he would just Say? why wouldn't you look it up and see what the context was?

guys. he's not actually doddering and losing it. he remains a standard politician, with all that implies, but still mentally together. that's media spin and you should know better than to trust it at this point

[starfieldcanvas]

he has a stutter that occasionally makes him do word swaps, but he's not losing his memory, he corrects himself as soon as it happens. if you talk to other people with stutters they'll tell you how frustrating it is to not be taken seriously because of a verbal tic that has nothing to do with your mental competence

[fantasticfairfield]

I was gonna post this to my main. But I'll post this here! Fitting in a certain sense. Atleast on the topic of stutters. I myself as Dwight's Mun, have a psychogenic stutter. It gets worse the more stressed I get. And It stresses me out more when I can't really formulate what I really want to say to someone. Often ending in Nonverbal Situations. I'm a smart man. I do alot of research. I love chatting. But damn if my stutter doesn't kick on and spook me out of a group chat now and then.

It's rough.

[dwightfairfieldsboyfriend]

Dwight Fairfield is autistic🫡

[fantasticfairfield]

yeah

[fantasticfairfield]

“𝘼𝙩 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙚𝙙𝙜𝙚 𝙤𝙛 𝙪𝙣𝙙𝙚𝙧𝙨𝙩𝙖𝙣𝙙𝙞𝙣𝙜, 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙗𝙤𝙧𝙙𝙚𝙧 𝙤𝙛 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙠𝙣𝙤𝙬𝙣,

𝙏𝙝𝙚 𝙗𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙠𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙥𝙤𝙞𝙣𝙩 𝙤𝙛 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙨𝙤𝙣 𝙬𝙝𝙚𝙧𝙚 𝙡𝙤𝙜𝙞𝙘 𝙞𝙨 𝙙𝙚𝙩𝙝𝙧𝙤𝙣𝙚𝙙.”

Taken by a thick and cloying fog that felt like it burrowed all the way to bone. Those lost to the grey awake alone, cold. The feeling of distant eyes borderline tangible. They see all. Kindnesses and every bite of the blade against flesh.

Is it weighed? Are the fates random? Those souls lay in her claws.

Reality warps and bends at the edge. Taking whatever shape fit best. Built on the unsteady memories of those trapped within. The idea of free will lost meaning. Puppets orchestrated on a stage for all to see.

Some are given the ability to carry out revenge. Dark artistry. Weapons made cruller. Forms twisted and bent to give advantage. The monsters within echoing into the physical. The lines of man and beast blurred. A singular objective given, stain the earth red.

Others. Forever locked in a cycle. Repeating all they’d ever known. Run. Hide. Survive. A desperate struggle against odds well stacked against them. No aces up the sleeve to help them.

The entity watches. Good luck.

And Good Hunting.

“𝙏𝙧𝙖𝙥𝙥𝙚𝙙 𝙬𝙞𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙣 𝙖 𝙡𝙖𝙗𝙮𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙩𝙝, 𝙞𝙩 𝙜𝙤𝙚𝙨 𝙬𝙞𝙩𝙝𝙤𝙪𝙩 𝙨𝙖𝙮𝙞𝙣𝙜,

𝙏𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙬𝙚'𝙧𝙚 𝙥𝙧𝙖𝙮𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙩𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙮 𝙙𝙤𝙣'𝙩 𝙜𝙚𝙩 𝙤𝙪𝙩.”

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[fantasticfairfield]

I bring Dwight spin off concept:

So! I came up with a concept. That kind of takes bits and pieces of Dwight's story and twists them around.

I kind of want to name him Oliver Nicholas Fright. But I don't know if I should go with Frieght, Frite, or Fright.

Either way, no drugging. But he still gets tricked out to the woods by his coworkers. They get drunk, ditch him in the dark forest. He stumbles around in the dark, still off his shits smashed. And manages to stagger across an Old God altar way off deep in the woods.

At this point he's kind of panicked, definitely depressed, and just, overall tired that things have been like this for so long. In his drunk stuppor he does recognize this as some kind of religious altar. He's not really a religious man. But. Still. He collapses to his knees. And just kind of begs for *something*.

He wants to be stronger, he wants to defend himself better, he wants to fight back.

And the old God answers.

Apollyon.

He tells him he'll grant his wish. His prayer. But only if he becomes a sort of champion. A vessel. An avatar.

And Oliver accepts.

And from then on he's a sort of spider flavoured werewolf like entity. Still overall wolfy. But with the ability to scale walls. Has a set of hair like sensory spikes between his shoulders, paralyzing bite. All that.

Kinda based on this art!

Also Venom-Esque Shenanigans ensue, except if Venom were like, a warlock patron

"Hey, what do you want to eat?"

Apollyon, Who only Oliver can see, floating over his shoulder: "***The souls of the innocent.***"

Oliver: "A bagel."

Apollyon: "**N O**."

Oliver: "....Two bagels."

[fantasticfairfield]

woe, him

[fantasticfairfield]

[fantasticfairfield]

Fanged Dwight is back Again!

[fantasticfairfield]

Woe, Fairfield upon ye.

[fantasticfairfield]

A blanket for Dwight appears at the campfire

The man blinked. He couldn't quite tell if this was something from the entity. Or if maybe another survivor had left it. But the little tag on it definitely told him it was his. There's hesitation of course. Fairfield had a reputation of being the more skittish of the group, much despite his status as Leader. But. He settled. Plucking the material up from the log. And wrapping it over his shoulders. He thanks whatever left it for him for the comfort.

[fantasticfairfield]

Also I'm not sure if I shared these with yall! I think I might have put them on my main out of character blog, but not here. Werewolf Dwight!

[greentrailjacket]

Dwight: "If you start packing my wounds with moss I'm going to start crying." Jake: "Then it'll just soak up your tears." @fantasticfairfield

[fantasticfairfield]

"I'm full of moss and not happy about it."

[fantasticfairfield]

NEW DWIGHT ART

[fantasticfairfield]

Test, test... is this ask blog active still?

Hey! Hi! Yes! I'm still here!

[fantasticfairfield]

[fantasticfairfield]

"...are you talking to yourself? Are you lonely?" The young cat havent seen the camera Dwight is talking to and is confused.

@cat-monster

He jumped, there's been plenty of campfire intrusions tonight. But it never did get any less startling to hear an unfamiliar voice. Just as his mouth opened to responded though his eyes landed on this....cat? Was it a cat?? Shape of his face generally reminded him of one. But the fact he was bipedal, let alone cyclopic and multi limbed, was enough to cause his voice to die in his throat. Instead, just staring down this new creature, mouth agape.

He's aware it's impolite. But after seven years, he'd thought he'd honestly seen just about everything.

[cat-monster]

The silents.. the weird face and the talking to themself befor. This guy must.. BE ON DRUGS!

[fantasticfairfield]

"I-I- ..No?? I'm- I uh- I'm pretty sure I'm like- entirely sober? I think? .....Is that a gun?"

[cat-monster]

"That is a...

...FLAMETHROWER!!" ☆

Cat demonstrate his wappon and expect Dwight to be proud.

[fantasticfairfield]

Shock flashed clear across his features and he just about sent himself crashing backwards onto the forest floor. Hands scrabbling to try and push himself back away from the all to close plumed of flame. Silence fell. Here we are back to deer in the headlights Dwight.

[cat-monster]

Cat stops, clearly proud of himself. He turnes to the Dwight. "What do you think? Pretty cool am I right?"

[fantasticfairfield]

He flinched back further. Offering a stiff nod. "I-I- Um- Y-Y-Yeah. Really cool. Very cool. Just like- Just- Don't- don't point it this way?"

[cat-monster]

"Pointing him at you? ...like this?" He turns to Dwight. But after a few seconds he take his flamethrower over his shoulders again.

"Are you a bad spirit?" He asks, tilting his head.

[fantasticfairfield]

His shoulders tense. eyes wide. But the moment the flamethrower is moved away from him again. He let out a relived wheeze of a sound. "N-No? I'm just- I'm just a guy?"

[fantasticfairfield]

It was hard to find people that stood out amongst the sea of doppelgangers that was the survivor side of things. He catalogued each one, and the more he wrote about them as individuals the sooner he learned that they were far too similar for his liking. Jakes and their tendency for the woods, Mikaelas and their passion for story crafting, and Dwights with their anxious demeanors. Like Chihuahuas in the cold, shaking when they could feel the Ghostface's eyes peer into the back of their necks.

But on occasion he finds someone worth that gaze, worthy of some extra attention. And how telling that the only thing this Dwight had to do to seem interesting was have some sort of recording device on standby, which peaked the stalker's interest like an albino hare amongst the dull coated normals.

Perhaps it was boredom that made him step out from the shadows, catching the survivor at a campfire by his lonesome. Perhaps it was fascination that made the cloaked figure speak. "Where'd you get it?" - @insidious-journalist ( <3 )

The camera almost tumbled out of his hands, fingers just barely properly catching the straps along the sides. His attention snapping up towards the Ghostface. The initial fear fit with ever other one of his iterations, but, slowly, it gave way to something bordering on biting irritation. Abnormal for most of their ilk. It's not quite clear if he's misregistering this Ghostface as another, one he's had more interaction with, or not. But either way a thick sigh issues from his throat, amber eyes squinting slightly up at him. "I...found it. What do you want, Danny?"

His tone is almost flat, almost bored. At the campfire he generally considered himself safe and felt less on guard. Only time would tell whether or not his slip into this side of the fog would cause that sentiment to bite him in the ass.

[insidious-journalist]

It's more tempting than he realized to offer some assistance, to say he'd help out this little passion project just to see where it goes. But the offer slips away almost immediately due to many, many reasons. Dwight probably doesn't want help from a killer to help make training videos about avoiding them, especially the Ghostface of all people. Ji-Woon would be easier to convince and bribe into playing nice if you play into his love of the spotlight.

Not to mention he himself has a reputation to uphold within the Fog that would be tarnished if he suddenly appeared in videos holding infographics on what the Entity was or what pallets did in chases. And his own Entity, a sort of sponsor for this killer in particular, may find it crosses an invisible line in the sand he wasn't privy to.

But God dammit if he isn't gonna try and see it in action, from the shadows just to watch Dwight make a fool of himself or surpass his low expectations.

"I say you should keep up the momentum on this whole training tape idea. Could put you on the map, make you someone who matters in this place." Akin to Vigo or the Observer, something Danny himself is actually trying to aspire to. To make a name for himself in a place where you're less of an individual and more of an actor in various shitty horror movie plots. His library of journals and notebooks have purpose, after all, outside of just a creepy hobby.

If Dwight can do something memorable, maybe Danny has a crack at it, too. "Maybe send me a copy. Beats watching static half the time."

[fantasticfairfield]

Dwight's brow cocked slightly. Expression incredulous. The reflection of fire light for half a moment made his golden eyes just a shade more piercing. But that meant little against a killer like Ghostface. With a squint he slowly replied, "That's....eerily polite of you." Attention flicking back down to his camera. A frown tugged at the corners of his mouth. "I'm not really, like, looking for fame though....Just. Something to do to pass the time. Besides. People already know me Danny. More than they used to. So. I don't really have an interest for reaching for more." Aside from that, Danny's thoughts aren't wrong. Out of killers, he really rather wouldn't be buddy buddy with Ghostface. Even if it was for just a project or two. Paranoia runs deep after all.

[fantasticfairfield]

There is a middle aged woman with long brown hair, bespectacled blue eyes, and wearing black pants and a black hoodie standing there with her hands on her hips and looking kind of miffed.

"Oh, really? That dumb old office has to go and dump me in the middle of some spooky abandoned old woods in the middle of the night? Whyyyyyyy?!" she complains, looking around and sighing. "Right."

She then digs around in her pocket and produces a phone, and it's right as she is beginning to pull up a contact that she notices someone else is standing there.

"Holy mother of f- Okayyyy, not an abandoned wood after all," she says, smiling at the stranger. "Sorry to sneak up on you by standing still like that. Are these your woods? Please don't tell me you have a gun, because I don't feel like being shot today. Or stabbed, so no knives either. I promise I'll get out of your woods as soon as possible, if ah, if you'll let me."

@the-haunted-office

Dwight jumped almost sky high the moment he was spoken to. Honestly he'd been on his way for a supply run. Old camping back slung over one shoulder as he'd been checking his list. Gold eyes now fixed on that other office worker. For a beat or two, he looked possibly more terrified of her than she might of been of him. Slowly though, he seemed to relax. Expression trading from fear to something weary. Bone tired. And...almost apologetic. It took him a moment to find the words. Notepad getting tucked away as he fixed the straps of his bag and tried to look more presentable. Hands tucked into his pockets. "I-I uh..No. I don't own these woods. And I don't have any weapons." There's hesitance. And he bounced slightly on his heels. Before he rocked forward a few steps. One hand extended. "Um. I'm...I'm Dwight Fairfield. It's nice to meet you."

[the-haunted-office]

Now, Thursday isn't always the best at reading other people - not up close. It was much easier up in the control booth back at the office, back in the day, watching people through the monitor and getting a feel for them that way. Up close and in person like this is a lot more difficult because there's no screen between you and if you mess up something you can't just turn off the microphone and go and play Solitaire and pretend it never happened.

She does recognize that he seems to be a bit nervous, though. Maybe he's lost too and she just so happened to be shoved here by her office to encounter him. Funny how serendipity works.

She's not afraid of him, though. Not in the least. As someone who has seen all manner of things - everything from death gods to ghosts to piles of tentacles oozing golden liquid on the floor - seeing what appears to be a good old fashioned regular human out in the middle of the woods in the middle of the night is nothing alarming.

There's no shying away when he offers to shake hands. She takes it right away, energetically, and says, "Well, hello, then! I'm Thursday. Yes, that's right, just like the day of the week. Nice to meet you too!... under these bizarre circumstances, as they are, haha. So, ah... Where exactly is this? I'm assuming we're still on Earth, so that's at least something. But ah, other than that I'm all turned around here. See, my office does this funny thing where occasionally we'll cross from one room into the other and we'll randomly end up in another dimension. Sounds like a crock, but it's actually rather inconvenient, as you can imagine."

[fantasticfairfield]

He blinked, using his free hand to keep his glasses perched on his nose. Expression growingly bewildered. His palm roughly calloused and deeply scared. "I- I uh- I'm sorry? I uh- No It's like- This is the-" Such an energetic and fast paced introduction had his own thoughts scattered like rats. Mind scrambling to scrape together something coherent. "Welcome to the Fog? Um- Sounds like you uh-You had and...interesting Job."