#v: seeing crimson (dark!dwight)

[leadxxr]

@eyeless-smiles emerges from the Fog.

Dwight turned the hilt of his new blade in his palm, almost as if stuck in a very peculiar train of thought. He hadn't an immediate intention to use it, however he stood at the ready for a good stab. The once nervous leader had finally broken to his trauma, the Entity's dark control on his suggestible psyche had turned him into a bloodthirsty killer driven by revenge.

Taken in by the Legion for the potential they saw in him -- to get back at those who had doubted him. Abandoned him. Undervalued him, and took him for granted -- Dwight had yet to adopt a mask of his own. Part of him didn't want to hide anymore. He was tired of being invisible. He wanted his victims to know just who was turning on them & inflicting vengeful torture for their selfish actions.

"Ever experienced what it feels like to bleed out? Gurgling as you drown yourself in your own blood?" a curious inquisition carried by a morbid expression. "I have." Dwight wondered absently what the Entity would do should a killer end the life of another for her benefit, but then again, a sacrifice was a sacrifice & bloodshed was bloodshed.

[negansbackdoorwhore]

Love Bites Chp. 2

Summary: Negan has too many drinks and causes scene at a party. Y/N decides chase after him

Warnings: mentions of smut, swearing, angst, fluff, non apocalyptic

Tonight was a big engagement party for Dwight and Sherry. Simon had been talking about it a lot since he was helping prepare it for weeks now. Negan also helped but he had been in and out of it. He had been saying he was sick but Y/N wasn’t buying it. Simon had been trying to text him but kept being left on read.

“Just try and call him instead babe.”

“He hasn’t answered anything so why try? Maybe we’ll see him there.” He said while buttoning up his black shirt, she was picking out a simple dress. So far only two options remained, an emerald spaghetti strap or a short sleeved crimson dress with a v neck. Y/N looked between the two but couldn’t decide on either one. Simon walked into the closet behind her and looked over her shoulder.

“You should wear the green one. You’ll look extra fine next to me in my dark clothes.”

“You’re right. Thanks babe, I’ll be ready in a few.” She says as he leaves to try and call Negan.

-

Negan heard his phone buzzing again as he was getting dressed. He looked to see it was Simon, again. He pulled through and answered.

“Hey man.”

“Wow you’re alive?”

“Yeah yeah, just been feeling sick lately. But I don’t wanna miss Dwight and Sherry’s party.”

“Alright, if you’re feeling better. But just in case I’ll have Y/N pack some meds.”

“Thanks man.”

Negan hung up and threw his phone onto the bed and finished his outfit. Time to party.

-

Y/N held a present as Simon entered the door of the small home. Different people cheered as they entered and got greeted from Sherry and Dwight embracing them.

“Glad you guys could make it! Also Y/N thanks for picking out this dress.”

“No problem you look amazing!” She says while being lead into the kitchen with the other girls to drink wine. Simon and Dwight met with the men outside to lounge on the porch. Everyone was having fun and just enjoying the company of one another. The attention shifted once the sound of a motorcycle was approaching. Which could only mean Negan was here. Everyone saw his bike pull up and yelled a good welcome as he stepped off the bike. Negan smiled and shared his congratulations to the couple before being handed a beer from Simon.

“Great to see you here Casper.”

“Ha ha, I know I’ve been sick but didn’t want miss Dwighty boys party. Where’s the girls at?”

“They’re all inside the kitchen.” Negan nodded made his way inside to greet everyone. Y/N sat as her glass was being refilled and saw Negan in her peripheral view.

“Hey you! I thought you were dead.” She said as she stood to go hug him. “I know you missed me.”

-

Negan fought his urges to do more than hug her especially with everyone looking at him. He only had one thing that might keep him in control. As he walked around and looked for Dwight and Sherry, he released he needed to get rid of his jacket. All this tension was making him sweat. He walked to a random room and went to throw his jacket on a pile of everyone else’s.

“Negan?” His eyes looked over and saw Sherry sorting the coats in the closet.

“Hey Sherry, congratulations.”

“Thank you, but I thought you weren’t coming.”

“Changed my mind.” He said as he handed her the jacket.

“You okay? You were excited about this party and then you started acting funny.” He didn’t respond but only stepped toward her and kissed her. With that move he earned a hard slap on across his cheek.

“I told you already, what we had is done. I only want Dwight now.” Negan smirked while rubbing his cheek which would no doubt leave a mark later.

“C’mon now. One last time, think of it as a farewell gift.” He became dangerously close and Sherry hesitated before shoving him away.

“For my fiánce’s sake, I won’t kick you out but you better stop with this bullshit and get yourself together Negan.”

She left him in the dark and Negan could feel anger in his heart. He gritted his teeth and hit the wall before heading out.

-

“There you are, you good girl?” Y/N asked when Sherry entered the kitchen.

“Yeah just had to use the restroom.” She said as she resumed sitting with everyone. The night progressed further as few of the people began getting drunk. However no one could keep up with Negan as he kept throwing back beer after beer. Everyone was growing concerned as his face began turning red and began wobbling around.

“Hey man, maybe have a glass of water instead.”

“Ha! No way I’m fucking fine.” He said while laughing as Simon kept him from falling down. Dwight walked toward him and handed him some water but got it slapped out of his hand.

“Hey! What’s your problem man, if you keep this up you’re ass is outta here.”

“Fuck off and stay with by your lady before I steal her.”

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me you fucking loser.” He laughed before getting another hit to the face. Simon had to pick up Negan and someone had to hold back Dwight. Simon tried to help Negan but he tossed his arms up to get him off.

“I’m fucking leaving. I can tell when I’m not wanted.” With that Negan stormed out and Y/N decided to chase him. But before she could leave Simon tried to stop her.

“Hold on, he seems out of whack. Do you think it’s a good idea to go after him?”

“If there’s anything Negan needs right now is to talk. And I’ll be there to listen.”

“Okay. Be careful, I’ll go try to calm down Dwight.” Y/N kisses him before leaving and seeing Negan walking down the block under the street lamp.

[leadxxr]

| The Breaking Point |

words: 1,258 triggers: blood & violence characters: Dwight Fairfield, The Legion (plural), The Entity, Jake Park, Unnamed Survivors

-

The trials had taken their toll on the once opportunistic leader. Dwight Fairfield had been beaten down into a shell of who he used to be until he decided no more. He threw away leadership in favor of dictatorship. He bargained with the Entity after he’d had enough. He would continue to play her game …. but he would play it by his own rules.

Dwight no longer needed aid of his spectacles, as the Entity had granted him boons of his own for his clever negotiating. He had suffered long enough being an outcast. Being laughed at and stereotyped by his own fellow survivors. Labeled a coward despite his efforts, and left to die on the Entity’s sacrificial hook more times than he cared to keep track of. This is the story of how Dwight Fairfield met his breaking point . . .

-

Glossy brown eyes peered nervously from behind thick rimmed glasses as bloody fingertips continued to twist wires and adjust various levers of the last generator remaining in Haddonfield. Not a soul was in sight save the aching man at work at the end of the street. He hadn’t heard the screams that would have indicated his team’s demise, but he failed to find them anywhere. That made him nervous, but he knew he had to finish the task at hand if any of them stood a chance. He couldn't pause to take roll call right now.

An alarm sounded on the grounds, and the newfound light illuminated his path to the nearest gate. He swore he could hear the mechanical whispering of an exit gate activating already and began to pick up what haste he could muster. Not more than two yards away, and he felt himself being ambushed from behind and knocked to the ground. None other than a member of the Legion loomed above him threateningly, drawing their knife and giving the bystanders a choice: attempt to be brave and wind up on a hook, or turn and walk away. They chose the latter without a thought, which struck Dwight in the very pit of his soul. Even though the Entity would bring them back for her own twisted satisfaction and an endless cycle of sacrifices, death wasn't something Dwight accepted easily, nor was being left to it like he was yesterday's leftovers.

“That’s what I thought,” the Legion muttered smugly before hoisting Dwight upon their shoulder and proceeding towards the nearest hook.

Dwight’s heartbreak gave way to anger that rose in his tightening chest as his scream rang out through the dimly lit street. He could see the exit gate lights clicking on in the distance and knew no one was coming for him. Something within him boiled as his bloodied hands gripped the top of the sacrificial hook, something dark. He had finally been abandoned and forgotten for the last time. The survivor’s hands brazenly hoisted his body off of the hook and onto the pavement in an unsteady sprint, adrenaline rushing through him like a drug. One hand pressed against his fresh wound, but this time he wasn’t bothered by its squelch as the crimson oozed through his fingers.

The beating of his heart grew louder as he carried himself to the exit gates that were now fully lit, spotting the rest of his teammates, unscathed.

Before he knew what he was doing, Dwight grabbed a nearby rock from the end of street construction, turned it over in his palm a few times, and flung it as hard as he could in the direction of his peers. It clattered loudly against the gate, breaking the macabre silence that engulfed them & served as their refuge. Startled, the survivors turned back with faces pale as a sheet.

It was in this moment that Dwight Fairfield saw red as dark whispers began to invade his senses.

Guided by a rage he'd only ever felt once before, the leader grabbed Jake by the back of his hair and brutally bludgeoned his face into the gate controls, causing them to spark in protest as his blood painted the metallic surface and stalled what they had thought was their guaranteed escape. Something in him felt energized by the action, but his mind was far from thinking rationally about anything.

They had every intention of leaving you here to suffer and die. Now is your opportunity, Dwight . . . show them you will not be so easily sacrificed.

It was as if the Entity's voice had summoned an audience while he took pause at Jake's writhing body, reason battling to be heard despite the rage that ignited Dwight's blood and silenced it. Turning, he realized he had never seen more than one killer per trial before, but it was as if the Legion had tripled in his distraction. Of the two remaining survivors, gripped with fear as they struggled, each one was held back by their arms by another masked figure. The air suddenly began to feel heavier, the fog thickening ominously as his friends fought their new captors.

“They left you here to die like a pathetic worm,” chimed the original Legion as he inched forward confidently. “Now what are you gonna do about that?” He had extended his arm, holding an offering to the borderline survivor as a wicked grin tugged at the lips beneath his mask. “I think it’s time they learned a good ….” Abruptly, Jake received a brutal boot to the stomach as if it cost the Legion no effort at all save a small grunt. “Lesson, if you ask me.”

“Take it,” he tempted the still seething leader. “See how it feels.”

The encouragement won over Dwight’s lack of rational thinking, and acting on emotion and emotion alone, he took the blade in a shaky hand and began to walk towards the restrained survivors. The Entity whispered to him; promised him things in return for his loyalty and his sacrifice.

Serve me, and I will guarantee you suffer no more, should you appease me. Make them suffer so that I may feed upon their sacrifice and you will be rewarded.

Dwight Fairfield had finally been pushed to his breaking point. The blade felt right in his hand and all he saw was liquid crimson as it violently spattered the pavement and his skin like a broken sprinkler head. With each brutally inflicted stab wound, an angered sob escaped him.

STAB. STAB. STAB. STAB. STAB!

His sob slowly began to evolve into a scream.

STAB. STAB. STAB. STAB. STAB!

His lips began to curl maniacally.

STAB. STAB. STAB. STAB. STAB!

His eyes lit up, and something between laughter and physically strained grunts of effort echoed through the street with fervor as the Entity hummed along to the tune of his friends' screams & Dwight's delighted sobs.

"I --" STAB. "AM NOT --" STAB. "YOUR FUCKING --" STAB. "MARTYR ANYMORE !!!"

The blade finally ended in Jake's jugular as Dwight's entire body trembled. Tears flooded his features, the rush fading as he realized what he'd done. The other bodies fell limply from the Legions' grasps, and an energy of pride filled the awkward silence -- broken up only by Dwight's heavy pants as he took in the sight of his handiwork. He sunk to his knees to join them and gazed at the thick crimson syrup that coated his palms.

"Gotta admit, Dweety," purred the leader of the Legion as he knelt down to retrieve his blade, a gurgling Jake beginning to bleed out at its removal. "Didn't think you had it in ya," Frank sounded impressed as the Entity purred telepathically her approval. "Welcome to the family."

[leadxxr]

Dark Dweet HC: Dwight has become rather promiscuous as a form of distracting himself . . . dissociating . . . attempting to fill the void inside of him, though obviously it never works. It's extremely rare that he'll want to have any sort of regular relationship with a survivor, unless one was already pre-existing before his Killer!arc. His position usually depends on the person, though he can be dominant from time to time. Survivor!Dweet is . . . never dominant/top unless his partner asks him to be, and even then he's kinda unsure of how to do it, like energy wise. He's even more of a power bottom with anyone who doesn't have a pen!s. The words feel so foreign in his mouth and definitely don't come naturally to him. Killer!Dweet definitely does have a mouth on him, though. He's NOT the same person he used to be, though that person still lingers at his core and typically manifests as guilt & shame when he's NOT engaging with others either in a sexual or murderous sense, at least up until the end/immediately after climax.

[leadxxr]

//open to mains !!

“I was tired of . . . of being weak !! I was tired of — of being the martyr! Every damn time . . . If someone had to take a dive, it was Dwight. If someone needed to be bait, it was Dwight. . . Now we’re just settling the score. . . We always talked about how it wasn’t fair . . . How about now, then . . . ? How's THIS for FAIR?"

[leadxxr]

open starter for mutuals <3

“You know …. It’s interesting . . ." the man's mind seems to drift in contemplation. "I’d almost killed before all of this . . . though admittedly it wasn’t intentional . . ." a morbid chuckle chimes as he exits his macabre thoughts. "Funny how things just . . . change, isn't it?”

[leadxxr]

17. a  kiss  to  give  up  control 👀

@champion-of-light | ACCEPTING !!

Dwight's breath sat bated in his throat, brows somewhat furrowed as Alan closed the space between them. Was he . . . really not scared of him? Did he truly see that small part of the old Dwight Fairfield at his core? How could he possibly see past his exceptionally selfish, cruel nature? Something about the older man's lack of fear threatened his typically unwavering composure.

The ex-survivor admittedly felt a bit more than mere intrigue. In fact, he felt more aligned with the old Dwight Fairfield than he ever had since his corruption by the Entity. In his head, countless horrific scenarios played back invasively. He could shove his knife into his gut like it was nothing, twist as the Entity encouraged him, reminded him of his new purpose in the Fog. Yet, he didn't. It was extremely rare that any of the survivors took the time to empathize with his pain, his reasoning . . . and admittedly Dwight struggled with the heaviness of guilt every single night. It was painfully clear he hadn't slept a proper night's rest in . . . a very long time.

He stood stoically as Alan approached, seemingly unbothered by the blood stained knife in his hand, at the ready; an immediate threat. It wasn't until the unforgiving edge had met the man's neck out of pure instinct alone that his grip wavered. He wasn't scared. How could he not be scared? Dwight merely blinked as Alan leaned in to claim his lips in a way that actually made him feel . . . something. And before the killer had much time to process, he found himself leaning into his soft lips, a carnal thirst rising in his chest as his grip faltered and his blade fell to the ground.

He wasn't afraid . . . Alan had become an enigma that prompted the collapse of his threatening energy and certainly something he would ponder and overanalyze during those frequently restless nights . . .

As their lips parted and Dwight's deep brown, chocolate stare returned (it was softer than usual, but harbored a heavy amount of both intensity and confusion) he began to find his voice again, still extremely intrigued by the fact that the immediate danger of his blade to the soft of his neck hadn't deterred him whatsoever. He would certainly consider going further, as physicality had become an excellent, albeit temporary, distraction from the endless screaming in his mind. But something about the interaction seemed . . . softer than he had initially anticipated.

"Y- you're walking down a dangerous path, you know . . ."

[leadxxr]

@coolrpblog | KLEIN | continued from here

Dwight's eyes narrow, intrigued by Klein's eagerness and . . . enjoyment? In an instant, the killer has tightened his grip, pushed the survivor into the nearest wall with an aggressive THUD he expected would knock the breath out of his lungs. One hand leaves his throat, reaching for his thigh holster, and brandishing his blood stained blade. One hand was more than enough to keep the vulnerable survivor pinned. In a taunting manner, the point of the blade teases at his abdomen.

"I almost admire your boldness," he comments, low and sinister as deep brown eyes maneuver over the entirety of his victim, almost hungrily. A strangely cold stare returns to the other's gaze. "But now you've intrigued me. I would be lying if I said I wasn't interested in your reasoning."

[leadxxr]

@coolrpblog | FRANK MORRISON

"I take it you're fond of the new me . . ." Despite the casualness of Dwight's voice, he swallows a pang of guilt within his throat. Is he truly pleased that Frank is so turned on by his occasional voids of bloodlust? "You have yourself to credit, partially."

[leadxxr]

Dwight's Conscience

Dwight Fairfield, despite his corruption by the Entity, still does have somewhat of a conscience. It's buried down deep, but with every insult he's met with, mostly all he can do is agree. He doesn't crave pity, in fact he despises it. With every trial that passes, he finds himself forgetting piece by piece who he used to be, but some things trigger flashbacks & fill him with an intense guilt. However, he will never forget very specific instances engrained into his mind about who he once was and the pain he suffered. Sometimes he will find himself in deep thought, pondering what memories he has left about who he used to be. This guilt, however, cannot top the control that the Entity has over him. He was a puppet in her sick game. He had quite literally made a deal with the Devil. There was no going back at that point.

Though the Legion took him into their ranks, Dwight doesn't wear a mask. He's tired of being invisible. He wants his victims to know just who is killing them, taking his revenge. On that note, the Legion is more of a fucked up family to him than his partners in crime. He spends more and more time in Ormond, adjusting to the cold and seeing the place from a completely different angle.

Sometimes, Frank will ask him about his trials, milking him for information that might cement his purpose as a killer. Dwight doesn't like to "kiss and tell," so to speak. What small details he provides are vague and they haunt him whenever he's able to sleep.

Dwight frequently has nightmares, looks utterly exhausted, yet still somehow has quite a bit of patience. He likes to talk to his victims before they meet their demise, taking pleasure in just how the tables have turned. Each time he kills, he goes into a blind rage, exhausting himself in a surge of adrenaline. It's as if he loses time, completely stuck in the uncharacteristic surge of anger and a thirst for revenge.

Tears often well in his eyes during a kill, as he is very emotional during the action. Whereas he is still somewhat empathetic towards newer survivors who really had nothing to do with him meeting his breaking point, he has a job to do if the Entity is to be appeased.

"I'm sorry . . ." he sometimes says as his victims slowly meet their demise. He genuinely is somewhat apologetic in those rare instances, but he's too selfish and hungry for vengeance that it doesn't impede him whatsoever from carrying through. He became what he is to put an end to his own suffering, and there is genuinely nothing that can convince him to succumb to it again. . .

[leadxxr]

open starter | dark!dwight

"Look . . . I don't want to do this. You . . . don't deserve it . . . unfortunately I have little choice in the matter," Dwight's sharp eyes suddenly look glossed over, a welling based on emotion. Perhaps it was the old Dwight Fairfield fighting against his urges & dedication to the Entity.

[leadxxr]

@coolrpblog | survivor!Frank / killer!Dwight

"You're newer, no?" The ex survivor observed someone he had yet to set eyes on in prior trials. A new survivor. Inexperienced. Easy prey. "Believe it or not . . . I understand exactly the pain you're about to endure . . ."

[leadxxr]

❛ do you like it when i bleed for you? ❜ (to Dark!Dweet!)

@champion-of-light | ACCEPTING !! (currently backlogged)

Ravaging Alan was effortless any time he felt his sanity slip away, when his volatility reached a head and the result of the Entity's intervention was more apparent. An episode, what might call it; a state of utter submission to the Entity and dominance over the warm body beneath him.

As Dwight straddled Alan's waist, the sharp of his blade held in a tantalizingly threatening way against the soft of his neck. A wicked smirk occupied his mouth as he felt Alan harden beneath him, the writer's growing arousal coaxing a sinister chuckle from grinning lips. He was still astounded to this day that Alan could possibly allow himself to be so vulnerable in his presence. That small part of Dwight Fairfield that remained at his core glowed, though his corrupted psyche attempted and succeeded to overshadow such catharsis; it was as if the Entity was constanting watching, even in sadistically intimate moments such as these.

A few trickles of crimson traversed along the unforgiving edge of his knife, painting the blade with a beautiful accent of Alan's blood. Not enough to do any permanent damage, but enough to know that all of the control was for once in his hands.

"Mnn," he hummed, tilting the older man's chin up with the cold metal. He wanted to get a good look at him in such a vulnerable state, and in doing so the confusion returned. Why wasn't he afraid of him? How could he possibly love such a horrific monster? "You do look quite pretty underneath me . . . making you bleed is just icing on the cake."

That's when the crazed shell of Dwight Fairfield would slowly release pressure on the blade before lifting it away entirely, turning it in his hand as if admiring the finest of scarlet paints on its edge. He briefly wondered what it would feel like to paint a canvas with Alan's blood, not that he was any artist, but what kind of rush he would feel from such a horrific action. He was so completely brainwashed . . .

The ex survivor raised the flat of the blade to his mouth, licking it off in one swift motion. Sharp copper invaded his tongue and he began to feel a frenzy coming on. Alan was certainly in for quite the time . . . especially when Dwight was like this: the furthest thing from his authentic self as he could possibly be.

"Taking control of you . . . being the one in charge for once... it's fucking intoxicating..."

[leadxxr]

Alan was on his knees for you in the last ask… how did that make you feel? :)

🌟 anon

about @champion-of-light; ask my character invasive questions !!

Dwight's brow perks up, judgment being cast towards the inquiry until a small grin tugs at the corners of his lips, dark and macabre in nature. He'd be lying if he said the act of an older man submitting to him in such a fearless way didn't trigger a small remnant of the old Dwight Fairfield at his core, but he wasn't above lying if it meant protecting that soft part of himself from being so exposed.

"Technically," he starts, slowly unsheathing his blade from its home on his thigh to turn it idly in his palm. "He wasn't on his knees. But I'll admit... the next time? He will be." If there was to be a next time . . . Dwight certainly wouldn't protest.

[leadxxr]

Hands gripping at his throat, Klein should be scared of death that might come to him. Yet he finds it in him to let out a strained chuckle as he looked to the killer. He's sure of it, how he can feel how his pulse races. "We need to stop meeting like this." Klein tells the other now in slight amusement. "But then again I tend to seek out the killer every trial so maybe that's on me for looking for attention-"

@coolrpblog | KLEIN

Dwight's grip around the other's throat doesn't falter. He cants his head slightly, a soft furrow upon his brow, and lets out a light chuckle. Klein was fortunate to encounter Dwight in one of his more tame moods. His bipolar behavior was extremely unpredictable, but this time he seems to be nothing more than amused, albeit still with the intentions of sacrificing the survivor before him. He'd gotten better at controlling his remorse during a trial, at least in regards to three specific survivors, one of which had already met their poetic demise by his own hand.

"Masochism suits you."

[leadxxr]

Voices in my head again Beating me in a war I can't win I can hear them now Trapped in a game inside my own skin And I don't know myself anymore They're pulling me under