scout

ribbon & tassel for @piratehunted

OLIVER REF POST…..2!!!!

this time it’s the actual, exact model! a proper telecom eireann slaney!! WITH the standee on the back. while we don't see the back of oliver's head ingame, we DO see the back of the exact same phone in the crowd shot of roger's presentation:

showing that the standee is present, and oriented downwards (it can be up or down), in the orientation to be hung on the wall. so that's how i've included it here!

babygirling the birthday boy

sketch / wips under the read more :]

Happy valentines, but more importantly, happy fourth anniversary Dialtown!! (Says man who has been playing for less than a month)

Extra junk below ⬇️

Ive been obsessed with making bouncing phone gifs lately ☎️

(Had this idea in my head for years, thought I'd give myself a little break from Olandy script work and put it to paper so I can finally stop thinking about it! Not my best writing, but enjoy!)

A gentle breeze graced an undisturbed street in Dialtown, Wisconsin. The fluttering of the leaves on the few remaining trees were the only motion in this still, cloudless place. Barely visible above the dilapidated skyline, towering cranes lowered steel beams onto the summits of skeletal skyscrapers, only to be met by the scrambling phone-headed construction workers working tirelessly to rebuild the town.

The distant roar of jackhammers and ferocious engines obscured the wind's muffled howl. Lounging against a worn brick wall, a man leaned with his eyes closed. The face on his monitor leaned upwards, towards the smouldering glow of a distant sun. The street's muted stasis was abruptly interrupted as a burly figure trudged over, the sound of the chaffing fabric on his jumpsuit signalling his arrival. The spaceman then tipped his hat and made his presence known.

"God." he saluted, "I've been lookin' fer you, y'know." The man leaning against the wall didn't open his eyes nor turn his head from the sun. "Hope ya aren't assumin' I fell asleep with a cigarette in my mouth last week." he quipped. The cowboy glanced up at the distant charred skyline, momentarily remembering his role in the inferno that consumed a chunk of the city. "No. No, that AIN'T what I came t' ya fer." Norm muttered as he turned back to the relaxed man in front of him, "I actually wanted t' ask ya about somethin' else."

"You can ask." God murmured gleefully, "But, I mightn't have a good answer for ya." Norm's hand connected with the back of his neck as he considered the best way to phrase his question. Deep in his heart, he knew he only had one shot at this conversation. "I... need t' ask you about my kids." he murmured. God's eyes opened suddenly and his gaze gradually drifted to meet Norm's. His eyes widened, completely uncoupling his eyelids from his irises. But, no reply followed.

"Y'see..." Norm trailed off, his hand now firmly scraping the back of his neck, "I was sent int' a wormhole an', well, I ended up HERE." God's eyelids narrowed and the corners of his mouth winced uncomfortably. "Yeah." God replied, "Sorry to hear you trusted the wrong sorta people." Norm slowly lowered his hand towards his waist and indecisively massaged the palm of his hand with his fingers. "It was an HONOUR, y'know." he stated, "T' be selected by the leader o' the free world t' go where no man had ever gone before." God glanced to the other side of the street. "Whatever helps you sleep at night." he muttered back. The cowboy arched his shoulders indignantly for a few seconds, before then slowly lowering them. He lowered his head slightly and folded his arms.

"Y'know, when I firs' left the wormhole..." Norm mentioned, "ALL I could think about was if they were okay." God's gaze slowly turned back to Norm, a barely perceptible grimace appearing across the corners of his mouth. "So, I made my way back to Tusayan." the spaceman declared, "T' our old home." He momentarily glanced down at the sidewalk. "Figured I'd find 'em, or someone who knew where I could find 'em." Norm explained, still looking at the ground. God's eyes fixated on the cowboy. "...Only t' find nothin'." Norm muttered, lowering his head further and arching his shoulders again, "Not a trace of 'em." God's posture shifted slightly, as if he was considering a swift retreat. "None of the old timers I spoke t' remembered 'em." Norm stated, looking back at God and pointing at himself.  "Even the ones who remembered ME."

"So, I dug like a hog lookin' fer truffles." the gunslinger explained, as he impassively waved his right hand, "I went through birth records, death records an' then..." The corner of the paper bag covering his face twisted as if something was contorting beneath it. "An' then..." Norm murmured in a hushed tone, "I found my own obituary." God's eyes winced further, abject discomfort plastered across his face. "Even THERE, no mention of 'em." the cowboy muttered with a shaky voice. "I NEED t' know where they are." Norm pleaded, his voice now cracking, "I need t' know why nobody can even remember they EXISTED." God stared back in silence for a few moments. Gradually, his face shifted back to its usual vacant grin.

"Honestly... I wouldn't worry too much about it." he replied, his tone unemotive and impersonal, "Just do your best to move on... and try to keep yourself busy." The gunslinger visibly trembled in place. With each passing second, the shaking became more violent. Finally, Norm lunged at God, his shaking hands gripping the man's shoulders with the same strength that he'd once used to haul stone blocks. "Where the FUCK are my KIDS?!" the gunslinger roared as he furiously thrashed God's shoulders back and forth, "Their names are ETHAN and WILLOW. They-" Before the marauder could say another word, God abruptly shoved him back with staggering force, instantly freeing himself. As Norm regained his footing and turned back to face God, he noticed that the face on his monitor had devolved into a sea of static. God stood rooted in place, his shaking arms held out wide by his hips, indicating that he was preparing to defend himself. The cowboy didn't inch any closer, instead glaring through the beast standing in front of him. Gradually, the static on the monitor faded, revealing a dire expression hiding underneath.

"Look. I don't know what you expect me to tell you." God spat, his posture unchanged, "Life is just like this sometimes, as you WELL know." "I beg yer pardon..." Norm replied, his arm shakily readying to draw his pistol, "But, life is jus' LIKE THIS sometimes?!" Predicting where things were headed, the trembling dog-faced man relaxed his stance. "Life is LOSS, okay?" he responded, "Most of the time, you NEVER get the answers you want." God glanced at the ground. "And sometimes, you're better off not knowing." he muttered, his eyes locked onto a crack in the sidewalk. Norm hesitantly lowered his arm, realizing the gravity of what he'd almost just done. "Would it matter..." God asked, his gaze glancing back up at Norm, "If you knew?" God extended his hand towards Norm. "Would knowing make any of this easier for you?"

"I jus' wanna know that they're safe..." Norm replied, glancing pensively over his shoulder, "If they're HAPPY, wherever they are..." The bags under God's eyes deepened as the corners of his mouth warped. "...I jus' wanna know if our time t'gether meant anythin' at all." the gunslinger muttered, staring down at the cracked sidewalk yet again. God's mouth momentarily opened as he raised his right hand, but lowered it and slowly closed his mouth after a prolonged pause. His expression shifted from one of abject pity to a shaky yet unemotive scowl.

"You can never go back, you know." God stated with an apathetic tone, "As much as you'd give anything to do it all over again." Norm glanced back over his shoulder, unable to look at the man in front of him as he spoke. "The stream carries us all forward." God muttered with a harsh voice, "Never back." God's unfocused eyes stared off towards the distant sky. "That's just the way it is." 

In the agonizing pause that followed, the street was bereft of the faraway sounds of construction. No gust graced the street now. The two men stood under oppressive sunlight, alone now with the deafening roar of absence. After the prolonged pause, the cowboy menacingly paced towards God, each footstep punctuating the prevailing silence.

I suppose in a certain lens, it is out of necessity. After all, if Randy didn't act in self-preservation, would he have lasted as long?

His ending monologue in Olandy kind of implies a fuller answer and it's more or less all of the above. Randy's already been through so much, if he doesn't survive and hence things don't get better, the previous suffering was all for nothing. Of course, he's also deeply self-loathing and believes that he doesn't really deserve the help, leading to the intense reactions whenever he's shown ANY courtesy or kindness. So, he's kind of stuck between a rock and a hard place.

He doesn't want to keep suffering, but can't really fathom why anyone would want to help anyone like him. This is kind of where we delve deeper into Randy and see a sort of lack of personality integrity, for instance in how he acts in the Roger DLC and in parts of Olandy, which is a very blatant type of self-interest. When someone isn't directly helping him and he feels he's out of options, he'll definitely take a morally nebulous risk if he thinks it'll help himself or ensure his own survival.

Looking for DSaF ao3 fanfic recommendations?!

Me and some friends have gathered a list of our favorites. Mostly Davesport but there’s a sprinkle of some other pairings and platonic/familial ones too.