dwight-furfield - Tumblr blog

[dwight-furfield]

It's time for a break.

I have a lot going on and a lot of things to unpack so I'm taking a hiatus until things are normal and steady again. Kitty misadventures will return!

Art by @dwhatsup !!

[dwight-furfield]

Dwight looked over his shoulder, only to see James cringing as he anticipated a swing from the Wraith. Had he taken a hit just for him? He winced as he watched the club come swinging down, looking away at the last moment so he didn’t have to watch. Surely he could find a good distraction to keep him from pursuing, though...

There! He spotted a tree near another totem - a boon, to be exact, which he was going to have to sacrifice for the good of the team. If James went down now, that would leave the other two survivors to get Ace and pressure generators - which would be difficult and unlikely. He’d seen his fair share of games snowballing because of situations like this. “Hey!” he cried, tail bushed out with fear. “Come and get me, m-moth-- motherfucker!! Or else I’ll break all your totems!”

[Previous Post] [1] @silent-daylight-james 

As Ace ran the killer, Dwight focused on shredding up the totem. It was a lot harder knowing there was less time on the line, especially since the Wraith had more than likely seen the pair near his totem and planned on heading their way once he’d cleaned up the already bloodied-up Ace and strung him up.

Which is what happened mere seconds later after having such a thought, which made the fur along Dwight’s spine lift as he worked more anxiously, working his claws until they ached so he could finish in time. “I’m trying,” he said, sounding panicked as the shimmering figure approached, making his tail bushed out as he dove in with his teeth to pull and rip at strings frantically.

As soon as the Wraith clanged on his bell, slowly uncloaking, the last few strands of twine snapped and the a harsh wind flattened his fur again as the hex crumbled and a thunder-crackling sound filled his ears, collapsing the last of the bones. “Go!!” he yelped, scrambling to dash away from the killer in time – he just hoped that James could get away in time, too. If only it hadn’t taken so long!!

[dwight-furfield]

The creature’s remark about the heebie-jeebies made Dwight want to snort and stare at him in disbelief; oh, so there were things that fazed this overgrown snake? Not that he’d say that out loud. He was far too cowardly to say something so bold, especially not when he could be swallowed up in one bite the same way he observed him chomping down on the bear. “I-I can only imagine what scares you,” he mumbled instead.

The naga’s remark about him made him self-conscious, though, and he finally piped down, ears flattening as he practically melted into the tight grip the killer had on him, miserable and hopeless. It wasn’t even funny, how screwed he was here; a killer that found him annoying keeping him captive, and no one to know where the hell he was - or if they did, they certainly weren’t going to risk their hide to come and rescue him, that was for damn sure. 

Still, his only company was the snake feasting on the carcass before him - and so his meek silence only lasted so long. If he was going to die here or end up a nice black and white rug on his floor, he wanted to know who had done it. “W-will- will you at least tell me your name?”

[Previous Post] @dwight-furfield

The naga let out a smug huff at the little cat’s petrified expression before turning back to the bear. Surely that was enough to keep the fucker from running away, but keeping him quiet? That was another story. 

Keep reading

[dwight-furfield]

[Previous Post] [1] @silent-daylight-james 

As Ace ran the killer, Dwight focused on shredding up the totem. It was a lot harder knowing there was less time on the line, especially since the Wraith had more than likely seen the pair near his totem and planned on heading their way once he’d cleaned up the already bloodied-up Ace and strung him up.

Which is what happened mere seconds later after having such a thought, which made the fur along Dwight’s spine lift as he worked more anxiously, working his claws until they ached so he could finish in time. “I’m trying,” he said, sounding panicked as the shimmering figure approached, making his tail bushed out as he dove in with his teeth to pull and rip at strings frantically.

As soon as the Wraith clanged on his bell, slowly uncloaking, the last few strands of twine snapped and the a harsh wind flattened his fur again as the hex crumbled and a thunder-crackling sound filled his ears, collapsing the last of the bones. “Go!!” he yelped, scrambling to dash away from the killer in time -- he just hoped that James could get away in time, too. If only it hadn’t taken so long!!

[dwight-furfield]

Dwight blinked and tried to dart before the Trickster scooped him up, but he failed, dangling his little limbs uselessly as he was showed to the rest of the room like a trophy. He looked around at the other humans, wondering if he should speak at all or if he should just keep his mouth shut. At least he ended up in the lap of another Dwight, who seemed to sympathize with his situation - and so he hesitantly relaxed, curling up in his lap and resting his head on his paws. “I guess this isn’t so bad,” he mumbled, deciding it wouldn’t be so bad if they knew he could talk.

[Previous Post] @fluffy-inthefog 

“Afraid of killers,” Dwight corrected, looking at her with a troubled glimmer in his eyes. “Aren’t you? Don’t they-” he gulped. “-don’t they try to hunt you?” He wasn’t so sure about…any of the killers in this house, though; never had a Wesker found any interest in him whatsoever, too focused on hunting his human victims down with speed and efficiency, and like he’d thought before, a Trickster had merely mockingly meowed at him once before resuming throwing his knives at his fellow survivors. Those…were the only ones present here. Maybe he was fine after all. “I’m sorry. I just - sometimes they try to hurt me, too. I guess these are different.”

[dwight-furfield]

[Previous Post] - @vigos-journal 

Dwight hardly heard Vigo talking anymore. Hell, he completely missed that he’d even said his name. When he leaned closer, the tassels swinging in front of his face, his eyes went wider with glee, watching them sway back and forth rhythmically, as if calling out his name. Dwight, they cried, and god, was he going to answer the call.

It took him barely a second to lose any semblance of self control and his paws shot out, batting at the tassels vigorously with sheathed claws as a little kitty trill left his throat. He missed the first swings, and so he wriggled his butt before leaping up to snatch at one in the air, feeling the fabric slip between his paws. Upon landing again, he seemed to snap out of it, his ears flattening with sheer embarrassment as he stammered, “I- th-that’s-- I am so sorry. I- that’s never happened before.”

He cleared his throat, staring at anything but Vigo. “I- uh. I haven’t been this way very long. Um. I used to be a person.” He paused. “Wait. What did you say your name was?”

[dwight-furfield]

Dwight didn’t take long to realize that the killer was chasing someone else - not them. It helped settle his nerves, but only just a bit. He was still more focused on finding the hex totem if he could help it, because the longer Ruin stayed active, the less likely generators were being done. It wouldn’t be so farfetched to think that their third and fourth might have been looking, too.

He halted as he heard crackling nearby, however. His expression brightened, and he paused to glance back at James and gesture at him with his tail before he rounded the cluster of junkyard debris and discovered the hex totem in all its glory, glowing and glaring back at him as if it had a mind of its own. He hesitated before he reached a paw forward and pushed at it, testing how sturdily it was built - but unfortunately, it had no give. He was going to have to put as much effort in as ever, not that that was any different than usual. He started fumbling with the bones quickly, clawing at the bones and connecting structures with focus. “We have to hurry,” he whispered. “Keep an eye out for me, will you?”

[Previous Post] @silent-daylight-james 

“No,” he mewed. “I’ve just been sort of…poking around,” he admitted, a bit sheepish. He hadn’t been able to find any of his fellow survivors for the duration of the trial until James had found him, and, well…there he was, destroying totems and causing problems.

“If there’s anything you can do to help…” he murmured thoughtfully. “Um.” His ears pricked suddenly, alarm entering his little kitty features as he stared off to the north. Apprehension trickled down his spine, and he quickly said, “The killer’s coming.” He couldn’t tell who - but his tail had bushed out and suddenly he started to scamper in the opposite direction. “Hurry! We can’t find the totem if they’re chasing us!”

[dwight-furfield]

Dwight gave a put-upon squirm for freedom as he was coiled in the naga’s tail, knowing full well already that he wasn’t going to be able to escape. It was pointless; the creature had already made it obvious he wasn’t going to let him escape - not that easily. He wondered, with dread, if someone really was going to come for him; if it would be Jake, maybe.

He grimaced. God, please don’t let it be Jake. If it were, he could only imagine the kind of chaos that would ensue from there. Mixing this snarky naga with an equally snarky wolf...well. Maybe not a pleasant thought to have while he watched the beast chow down on his bear. He flinched as a few flecks of blood stained his pure white fur, giving him the impulse to lick it off -- which he fought for a while, because he really didn’t care to figure out what bear tasted like. After a long, hard-fought battle indeed, however, he craned his neck and started to vigorously lick his fur, clearing away the blood and crinkling his nose at the taste. Yeah, just as repulsive as he thought it’d be. He may have been a cat, but he still had the taste buds of a run-of-the-mill human.

“Oh,” he said simply after the naga answered him; well, hell, he didn’t know any better. He could’ve been turned into a creature the same way Dwight was, for all he knew. It was curious, though, thinking about Simon hatching from an egg. Being little and defenseless instead of this giant beast that liked to prey on small, much less imposing animals such as himself. It brightened his mood, actually. He could probably throw around a little baby Simon, and not this freak of nature. He could even bully it the way he was being bullied.

His humor faded when Simon brandished an organ at him, however, his ears flattening with disdain and horror as it was squished and fresh blood splattered all over him again, ruining the nice job he’d just done of cleaning himself off. Okay, maybe he wouldn’t bother. “Understood,” he mumbled quietly, his tail curling up between his legs - well, it would have, if the snake’s massive tail weren’t wrapped around his little body. 

Still, the threat didn’t linger long with him. Curiosity bit at him again and, knowing that his questions would be answered (since they had been thus far), he blurted out, “Why do you wanna keep me so bad? What makes you think I’m gonna get rescued at all? Is it because you’re lonely?” Oh, god. He’d just turned into the organ. He was definitely about to be squished so hard his little eyeballs popped out, or something.

[Previous Post] @dwight-furfield

“You’re a goddamn sad-sack, you know that?” The snake-man rolled his eyes at Dwight’s pitiful statement, scoffing as he coiled the end of his tail around the feline. He kept his grip tight enough to keep his hostage from escaping, but not tight enough to cause any real damage to him. Now that his hands were free, Simon turned his attention back to the bear. The little brat could sit tight for a hot moment while he ate his fill. 

Keep reading

[dwight-furfield]

Attention!

Hi everyone! Mun here~

Just letting my rp partners (if you follow me) know that I’ll be quite busy from here until I leave town on the 26th - then I’ll be completely inactive until I return home from a cruise (so no internet access whatsoever!) on the 4th. From then on I’ll be moving so I’ll still be busy...but I’ll do my best to reply in that time! 

For tonight, I’ll be replying as much as I can - and then I’ll be off! Thanks so much for understanding!

[dwight-furfield]

Dazed and winded, Dwight was left panting while laying on his side, his breaths erratic and desperate to try and recover from the pain blazing across the entirety of his side. It hurt - it hurt more than he could recall hurting in a while, because admittedly he’d been spoiled with how many killers had had little interest in hunting him lately. The last time he’d felt this much pain was when the Trapper had slashed him damn near in half with his cleaver, and -- oh, that had been a fiasco and a half then, too. He hadn’t lived much longer after that injury.

He could hear the Deathslinger’s heavy footsteps nearing him, and he had one thought in his mind - I’m going to die here.

However, he heard Jake snarl and suddenly jaws were clamped around him, jostling his wounds and making him hiss reactively in pain - but it was better than being stabbed to death by the Deathslinger, indeed. His eyes fluttered open as Jake ran from the killer, rounding the corner - and then Dwight’s heart sank as the wolf jerked, evidently from being shot by the harpoon. He tumbled to the floor from Jake’s mouth, landing hard on his uninjured side, and whipped around with wide eyes.

“Jake!” he cried out, a pathetic mewl compared to the harsh laugh the slinger let out as he reeled the animal in. He was shoved and snapped at to run, and this time, he listened. Dwight turned tail and scampered as fast as his little legs would take him, hardly hearing the sound of a generator clinking to life in the distance; that hardly mattered to him anymore. Jake was going to get strung up on a hook, and it was all his fault. If I’d just run before, he thought frantically, he wouldn’t be hurt because of me -- I’m such a coward- I’m a goddamn coward- 

[Previous Post] [1] [2] @jakebark

Dwight startled as Jake scooped him up and he dug his claws into his fur on impulse to hang on as he started running, his tail bushing out with fear despite his attempt to act brave just moments before. He couldn’t help it; the scenario was going to shake him to his core no matter how much he’d sworn that he could handle it. It wasn’t a matter of facing it bravely, though - it was one of forcing himself to handle it at all.

“Not if you can just k-keep running,” he said shakily, his ears perking as he heard the distinct ring of the Deathslinger aiming at the pair of them. It’s going to be me first, he thought with dread, and glanced over his shoulder just in time to see the barrel of the gun trained dead on his little body. 

The shot rang out, and a shriek left Dwight as the teeth of the harpoon raked his side, narrowly avoiding a dead-on shot that would have obliterated him. His claws dug into Jake’s scruff and he struggled to hang on as agony ripped down his body, staining his plain white fur a deep red as his eyelids fluttered and his ears pinned back against his head. Distantly, he heard the cold chuckle of the Deathslinger as he sneered at the pair, reloading his weapon slowly, patiently, as if he had all the time in the world to hunt them down. 

Dwight wanted to drop off of Jake’s side, wanted to black out from the pain, but he knew if he did, he was dead. He hung on for dear life, panting through the pain, and looked over his shoulder again to see that the Deathslinger was still close behind and aiming dead at him again. He sprang off of Jake just in time for the harpoon to hit dead air, though at the expense of Dwight hitting the ground hard and rolling into the undergrowth. Still alive, but not for long, he reckoned.

[dwight-furfield]

Dwight whimpered and quieted down as he was growled at, miserably sinking into his hands and shutting his eyes to accept his fate. Right - if anyone were to not care, it would be the giant snake thing holding him hostage. No use having a breakdown in front of something that hadn't felt emotions other than rage and bloodlust in however long.

He flinched as he felt a thumb stroke his forehead, but blinked his eyes open confusedly after the gesture. It had felt nice, yes, but it was likely because the snake was appraising his pelt's softness for skinning or something. Certainly not to comfort him; not that he expected it from the beast.

"I doubt it," he mumbled, trembling in his grip as the fight left him. Well, no use in arguing with the thing. Really, the more time passed, the more he was getting used to being slung around by a giant snake. Sure, his death would still be terrifying and horrific, but he could stare it in the face with his big, round eyes for once without shuddering in fear. "How'd you end up like this, anyway? A-and won't you get a trial soon?" he blurted out. "What if I escape when you leave?"

[Previous Post] @dwight-furfield

The snake-man wrapped his hands around the little cat as he sat up on his haunches. He hissed slightly at the feeling of claws on his fingers, but it certainly wasn’t enough to get him to let go. He wasn’t about to let himself be bested by a creature as small and weak as this, not in a million years. He was an apex predator, after all.

All of the sniveling and whining was getting grating on Simon’s ears. He’d had to listen to his victim’s cry and beg before, but something about the way this one was going off was just downright annoying. Maybe it was his voice? Or maybe it was just down to natural pathetic-ness. Either way it was starting to test Simon’ patience.

“Quit fuckin’ whining, already. Goddamn.” The snake-man growled as he slithered back towards the center of the room. He ran his thumb across Dwight’s head, as if he were petting the little creature. He had to admit, the little guy sure was soft to the touch. Maybe if he got sick of him enough he could use his pelt as a little cushion or something. 

“I seen how altruistic you survivors are. Dumbasses will gladly take a chainsaw to the ass just to save one of you fuckers from the basement. Even if they hate your goddamn guts I’m sure one will show up just to say they rescued you from the big bad snake.”

[dwight-furfield]

Oh, right, that was sort of an issue.

Dwight's ears twitched and folded back, chagrined, as the strange man spoke in a baffled tone. "Yes?" he mewed. "Sorry. I forgot that's sort of a surprise for some people."

He became a bit distracted by the way the man's bandana was fluttering in the wind, his pupils blowing a little wider with an itch to jump up and bat at it. You're not a cat, Dwight, he told himself sternly, struggling to push the urge down. But damn, did he want to fuck with that bandana.

Maybe just a little bat. No!! A little.

His tail started to slowly flick as he gradually sank further and further, his muscles bunching up as if preparing to jump. A little trill left his throat, quiet and focused, before he shook his head and gathered himself again. "Uh- I-- I'm- Dwight. Who are you?" he repeated.

Vigo didn't know whether his eyes were playing tricks on him or not because...

Cat.

There was a cat in front of him, how did such a thing find it's way in the fog?

Carefully and slowly he bent down and held his hand out.

" Pspspspspsp. "

Dwight slowly blinked as he stared up at the mysterious survivor, trying his best to identify who in the Fog this could be. His head tilted on impulse, squinting a little before he instinctively approached upon being called forward. Something about ‘pspsps’ made him want to come running.

Instead of wasting his time by keeping quiet, Dwight blurted out a question - a burning question, that is, because this survivor somewhat resembled Jake’s weird blight outfit - which made him wonder if this survivor had looted some clothes, too. “Who are you?”

[dwight-furfield]

[Previous Post] @silent-daylight-james 

“No,” he mewed. “I’ve just been sort of...poking around,” he admitted, a bit sheepish. He hadn’t been able to find any of his fellow survivors for the duration of the trial until James had found him, and, well...there he was, destroying totems and causing problems.

“If there’s anything you can do to help...” he murmured thoughtfully. “Um.” His ears pricked suddenly, alarm entering his little kitty features as he stared off to the north. Apprehension trickled down his spine, and he quickly said, “The killer’s coming.” He couldn’t tell who - but his tail had bushed out and suddenly he started to scamper in the opposite direction. “Hurry! We can’t find the totem if they’re chasing us!”

[dwight-furfield]

Vigo didn't know whether his eyes were playing tricks on him or not because...

Cat.

There was a cat in front of him, how did such a thing find it's way in the fog?

Carefully and slowly he bent down and held his hand out.

" Pspspspspsp. "

Dwight slowly blinked as he stared up at the mysterious survivor, trying his best to identify who in the Fog this could be. His head tilted on impulse, squinting a little before he instinctively approached upon being called forward. Something about ‘pspsps’ made him want to come running.

Instead of wasting his time by keeping quiet, Dwight blurted out a question - a burning question, that is, because this survivor somewhat resembled Jake’s weird blight outfit - which made him wonder if this survivor had looted some clothes, too. “Who are you?”

[dwight-furfield]

He paused, thinking about that question. Had he been a cat very long? “Not as long as I’ve been a person here,” he answered, “but probably longer than the others have been. I assume they’re back to normal now, anyway.” Lucky Dwights. Well - maybe not. He wondered if they had folks who were actually concerned about them returning to normal. He certainly didn’t; if anything, being a cat had earned him more people who seemed concerned with him than any time being a regular survivor. Not important.

“I figured it had something,” he mewed, feeling a bit brighter upon learning this. “Wouldn’t surprise me if it had that end of trial one, either.” He shuddered. Watching folks fall in one hit was never fun. “This one’s almost done. If I can just--” The final piece of twine snapped thanks to his claws, and the bones fell apart with a rush of wind blowing through his fur. “There. We just need to find three more, now.”

James was searching for totems he knew the killer had ruin so he wanted to get rid of it. He checked in one of the corners and found something he didn't expect..

A mostly white cat with some tiny bits of black fur. "Oh my how did you get here?" He crouched down to get a closer look. @silent-daylight-james

Dwight had recently tried helping out with totems. They took him much, much longer to get rid of, but in the long run - especially if the killer paid him no mind - it benefited the team greatly. He'd lost count of how many times a potential NOED had been thwarted by his efforts.

He was in the midst of shredding the twine holding together a totem when he heard a voice behind him, startling him and causing him to turn around with his tail bushed out in fear -- that is, until he recognized the survivor as an ally. He blinked slowly and peered up at him quietly, looking around and perking his ears in mild alarm before he relaxed and smoothed his coat out again. Okay, no sign of the killer. "Hello," he mewed, returning the curious gaze. James, then - he'd been in trials with different ones before. He recognized that sad face. "I, um - I'm Dwight."

@silent-daylight-james

[dwight-furfield]

Dwight felt terror flow through his body like nothing else had before as Simon hissed and pursued him, making his eyes blow wide as he frantically scampered through obstacles, over bones, until he stumbled at just the wrong moment and massive clawed hands were on him again, smushing him against the floor. He was shaking like a leaf as the naga snarled at him through panting breaths, his heart racing like a trapped rabbit’s - hell, a trapped cat’s - with shallow little breaths huffing in and out of his mouth.

He writhed desperately, going so far as to claw at Simon’s hands to try and free himself, but it was in vain; nothing he could do would free him from this prison. A pathetic noise left him before what could only be akin to a sob broke free from his little mouth, his tail bushed out with fear as he begged, “Please let me go-- n-no one’s gonna come for me-- no one cares, they don’t care, I’m just gonna die here-”

It was true, really. No one, even at his old campfire, had ever cared much about Dwight. The only reason people liked to pretend they did now was because he was so ‘cute and cuddly’ and an animal, something people instantly sympathized with. Nobody fucking cared that it was because it was Dwight. No one thought, ‘hey, how’s Dwight doing? I wonder if he’s okay’. It was always about the cat. Always finding him cute when he acted like one, not when he spoke and acted like a human. And now some big, stupid naga was going to eat him or keep him trapped until he rotted to death or something because it was convinced he had any actual, real friends. He never had them. He never would. It was hopeless.

[Previous Post] @dwight-furfield

The sight of the little cat bouncing wildly around the cage was downright hilarious to Simon, and he let out a guffaw. Sure, he expected the cat to have a reaction to the sheer volume of the music, but he wasn’t expecting the feline to go popcorn itself around the cage like that. He certainly didn’t expect for the cat to break itself out like that either, unfortunately. As soon as Dwight started to book it out the door, the naga hissed as immediately trailed after him.

“Get your ass back here, you little shit!”

The little fucker was nimble, he could give him that, he was light on his feet like a rabbit and Simon had missed his first few swipes and bites at the cat as he pursued. But the naga had years of experience with chasing down fast prey before, successfully hunting down speedy deer, foxes and hares on multiple occasions. He lunged forward, pinning Dwight down with his clawed hands as he caught his breath.

“Aw no you don’t, not fuckin’ gettin away from me that easy.”

[dwight-furfield]

[Previous Post] @fluffy-inthefog 

“Afraid of killers,” Dwight corrected, looking at her with a troubled glimmer in his eyes. “Aren’t you? Don’t they-” he gulped. “-don’t they try to hunt you?” He wasn’t so sure about...any of the killers in this house, though; never had a Wesker found any interest in him whatsoever, too focused on hunting his human victims down with speed and efficiency, and like he’d thought before, a Trickster had merely mockingly meowed at him once before resuming throwing his knives at his fellow survivors. Those...were the only ones present here. Maybe he was fine after all. “I’m sorry. I just - sometimes they try to hurt me, too. I guess these are different.”