I R O N S I D E

Before you set your sights on me. I'm a restless small town boy with a heart as wild as a big city.

[dustindustyironside]

xlukas-edwards‌:

“Um…” Lukas looked at the picture he was shown, his eyebrows lifting slightly. His first impression was this looked like the kind of picture you would find already in the frame, with just an extra dash of “film student horror movie” to add a little sense of weirdness to it. But he could never actually say that to someone, so he just smiled up at the other man. “Your hair looks really great,” he said. Which was at least true. His eyes widened a little as he went on. “Wow, really? That’s intense. I can’t imagine someone using my pictures for something like that. Or really why anyone would do that. It’s so mean.”

“You think so? I almost chickened out, but then I said: ‘No, Dusty. You gotta take risks to make it in this business.’ I mean, you get it. Bein’ up on that stage and all, yeah? Show biz, right?” For a moment, he yammered on, latching only onto the compliment rather than any perceived hesitation surrounding it. “You should think about goin’ blond, dude. I mean it. I think you could handle it. Like, I’m already havin’ more fun, so, I guess it works.” He flashed a wide, sincere grin before looking up with a shrug. “Mean? Nah, I take it as a compliment. Means I’m worth lookin’ like and worth wantin’ to meet.” He hummed softly. “It happened a lot on Myspace, though. You remember Myspace? People were always takin’ other people’s pictures and usin’ ‘em and stuff. I guess it still happens, but maybe it’s harder now, I don’t know. Won’t matter anyway; one day I’ll be a household face.” 

[dustindustyironside]

resabeauchamp‌:

He couldn’t have been talking to her, there was no way Dusty had just seen her,  Resa Beauchamp of all people, and decided to start talking about modeling or tv or whatever it was. 

Actually, she doubted he’d seen her at all. He was probably doing what Krystal did all the time, which was listen to the sound of his own voice and just figure eventually someone else, anyone else, would pay attention. Resa had to admit she was curious; she never fully understood how her sister’s mind worked, nor could she wrap her mind around Dusty’s finding a compliment where there probably wasn’t one.

He was so fascinating, in that way where she had to wonder if he even heard what he was saying. “They all kind of look the same to me,” Resa said, shrugging as she took a seat next to him. “Does blonde, like, go with your skin color? I’m just wondering what with your, like, undertones and all.” She hadn’t spent all that time listening to Krystal talk for nothing, though she definitely couldn’t put on her sister’s high-pitched tone of voice. 

“Okay,” Dusty replied with pointed incredulousness. “They’re super different.” Saying this, he began flicking his thumb back and forth between two portraits, which were, incidentally, distinct only in how much he was squinting his eyes. “See? This one is sort of...pinin’ maybe. Like, I’m probably waitin’ for my lost love or something. And this one is total loss. Like they were washed out to sea.” He mimicked this expression now, narrowing his eyes in concentration, before offering a deep, distant sigh

Listening to her, however, he gave a low hum. “Wait...what is my undertone? Am I too pink? Should I have gone darker instead?” This question came with some genuine concern, a slight, lilting moment of panic that colored his voice and his expression. However, it settled as quickly as it had appeared. “You know what? That’s just fine. Winter’s comin’ and all. I’ll be inside more, so I’ll lose some of the sun-kissed thing. That’ll help. Yeah.” 

[dustindustyironside]

"You know, I really think the blond is just what my portfolio needed. It shows I can do, like, versatile. Like, I can play European.” Dusty hummed, running a hand through his hair, which had only required one bottle of peroxide to achieve the warm golden color it now was. It had still burned like hell. “Whatta you think a’ these, huh?” Holding out his phone, he flicked through a few photographs of himself standing in the woods (his backyard) trying very hard to look modelesque. But in truth, some combination of the setting, lighting, and composition landed the whole effect somewhere in “rural religious cult” rather than “fashion spread.” Either way, oblivious to this, Dusty cocked his head to one side. “My buddy Chet took ‘em. He got a real good camera last year, and he’s gonna help me send some of these off to some of his connections. He told me someone used one of my pictures on that Catfish TV show once, but they couldn’t air it. His cousin works for the network.” 

@frostfordstart​

[dustindustyironside]

gemmajfc‌:

she is one too many shots past drunk, and dancing around bootleggers to the song that thumps the floor beneath her. laughter courses through her and she reaches for a cocktail glass she had left on a table.  “  c’mon,  “  she slurs to the person beside with a lopsided grin.  “ dance with me. “  she nearly stumbles over her feet as she takes a sip from the drink. she puts it back on the bar, then urges the person forward with bent fingers.    @frostfordstart​

“Mmm, mhmm, one sec. Hol’ up.” Dusty too was already far-gone, having started slinging back shots the second it had gotten dark enough to be appropriate. He swallowed another one now, hard,  before slamming it back down on the table and letting out a long sigh. And when the room threatened to start spinning, he pressed his fingers to his temples as if it would will it to stop. “I love this song.” And despite the way the earth was quaking beneath his feet, he took the offered hand and stumbled his way onto the dancefloor. There, in truth, Dusty was almost a good dancer, in his own way. If he were not so buzzed, he would have at least had rhythm. But now, he swiveled his hips, landing somewhere between obscenity and power aerobics. “You’re awesome. You’re, like...full-on Flashdance here. Gor..gor-ge-ous. Pull the cord.” 

[dustindustyironside]

nellybigby‌:

“Oh he has humor,” she shot back. She’d been up for over six hours already and it was clear by the looks of the man that he’d possibly been just going to bed at the time she was rolling out. She offered him a smile, half-embarrassed and half-charm. “But he’s unfortunately out of luck. We got our senior citizens in an hour ago, swept them clear.” She offered him out the plate of freshly baked shortbreads she’d whipped up. The tray was still warm in her palm. She’d made extra (as she always did). “For your troubles.”

“Oh! Well, sometimes it happens on accident, I think.” And that was true enough; humor was something Dusty often fell into while stumbling in some other direction. Nevertheless, he recognized it was better to be laughed with than laughed at. “If I’ve ever said anythin’ sorta funny in my entire life, it’s only half on-purpose. Or ‘cause I heard someone else say it, so I said it too. But that’s ok. I got more of, like, a drama face or an action face than a comedy face.” He flashed another small smile, shaking his head and wrinkling up his nose. “That’s just my luck, though, ain’t it? I’m gonna be havin’ words with Mrs. Johnson. She owes me. I let her model church hats on my head.” He sighed distantly without elaborating before hovering a hand over the cookie, evidently tempted. “Shortbread is my weakness. It’s a good thing I don’t know any secrets or nothing. I’d be super easy to make talk.” 

[dustindustyironside]

mrxwe‌:

“I mean, I feel like Ma and Pops don’t mind, but also if I could keep how many tattoos I have away from them, probably beneficial to me. That being said, I want another one. I have a time set up, but I have no idea what I want. Help a guy out?” 

“I dunno,” Dusty hummed. “I always liked those sorta, like, retro ones, you know? Like a mermaid. Or a motorcycle. Or a mermaid riding a motorcycle. My dad had this, like pin-up-y nurse with a nuclear bomb on his arm. I thought it was cool as heck as a kid, but thinkin’ about it now, he probably got his references mixed up. Even I know that don’t make no sense.” He shrugged, offering a smile. “In high school, though, I almost got one on my back as a dare. I picked out some Chinese letters from this big book at the shop and everything. And they said it meant, like ‘success’ and ‘good luck.’ But it could have been ‘pork’ or something. I dunno. I didn’ go through with it; chickened out.”

[dustindustyironside]

marshall-dyer‌:

“I just finished training my assistant manager… which means, I am officially on vacation. Which means I can actually do normal things and be fun. Problem is, I don’t do a lot of ‘fun’ things any more.” Marsh looked down at his lunch, taking another bite and sighing. “What do people do on their days off? Watch TV, I guess? I have a whole week off. Should I get drunk?”

@frostfordstart​

"Well, hey, that’s exciting. Maybe you should, like, I dunno, go somewhere or something, you know? Do a real vacation. See the world. I heard Montgomery has the ‘world’s biggest brick made outta smaller bricks.’ Like you can go take a picture with it and everything. I don’t know if they let you touch it. But that’s about a, what, four hour drive? So four there and four back, that’s eight hours. There’s one day down right there.” Seemingly satisfied with this, Dusty took a sip of his drink, gnawing gently on his straw as he dove into deeper thought. “But, yeah, sure, people still watch TV. My friend’s gonna put in a word for me with his sister-in-law; she works for one a’ those new reality shows. It’s called Dude Ranch. It’s all sort of top secret, not released yet, but it’s about a bunch of dudes on a ranch, and I think I got a good shot at landin’ it, you know?” He sighed. “If you spend one day gettin’ drunk, and the next sleeping it off, that’s two more days. See, only four to go.” 

[dustindustyironside]

nellybigby‌:

After the morning rush at Wild Flour with sleep deprived workers and feral grandmas crowding around for freshly baked loaves things tended to die down in the cafe. They’d recover, clean, and then fire up the ovens for more intricate orders like birthday cakes, or scones or (her favorite) cupcakes. By late morning, it was dead, and she was brewing her second cup of coffee her fingers duster with flour. She slipped around the front of the shop with a platter of shortbread cookies, sneaking a few for herself as she went to go wrap them. She had a mouthful when the door jingled upon. “Oh shit,” she muttered around the cookie. Everyone else was in the back. She swallowed. “I mean, um, good morning.”

“Mornin’,” Dusty replied with some genuine cheer, managing an almost exuberant smile that belied the evident fatigue clinging to his frame. He was walking in a sort of hunched over way, sleepy and closed inward, as if to let the world know that he was in no mood to begin his own shift early that afternoon. But idle hands were the devil’s playthings, after all. And the devil certainly didn’t care if he had been up all night bleaching out his hair. “That don’t sound like too good a cookie flavor if you ask me. Shit...I mean,” he continued with a lopsided grin, but the words were spoken so earnestly, so plainly, that it made it difficult to gauge whether this were a sincere observation, playful ribbing, or some combination of both. He yawned, almost overdramatically, stretching his arms over his head. “I won’t tell no one ‘bout the free samples or nothing, though, don’t worry. You got any a’ them puffed jelly things left, or did they already clear ‘em out?” 

[dustindustyironside]

[ nick bateman, thirty one, cismale, he/him ] ━ did y'all see [ dustin “dusty” ironside ] walkin’ into [ the galaxy drive-in]? they’ve lived in frostford for [ thirty-one years] and you can catch ‘em around town working as a [ pizza maker @ the cuttery. ] I reckon they’re pretty [ enterprising & self-reliant] but I hear they can also be kinda [ vain & quixotic] if ya see ‘em around, be sure to say hi.. ━ [ ooc: ted, 26, est, he/him ] [ none ]

@frostfordstart​

The Mobile, AL hotel room in which Dustin Ironside was conceived smelled like Aqua Net, but that was because his birth mother, then sixteen, had been preparing for a wedding with her own mother, two aunts, and a cousin in it that same afternoon. 

The boy’s arrival came as something of a shock to all parties involved, and an unwelcome one for most. 

To that end, he was adopted mere days after his birth by the Ironside family of Frostford.

Dustin was something of a scrawny child, with ears too big for his head, and he lacked the constitution of his veteran father and the natural athleticism of his older brother, his parents’ biological child. 

And so, while he became something of a mama’s boy, a distance from the men in his family existed until adulthood. 

He once started crying on a hunting trip specifically because he was having flashbacks to Who Framed Roger Rabbit?  

By then, though, in truth, he had already become something of an infamous local nuisance for begging whoever he could find to smuggle him into the pictures at the drive-in. He spent the majority of 1996 waking up from nightmares after surviving both Scream and From Dusk till Dawn at the ripe age of 8. 

That said, it was a classic Rebel Without a Cause showing that sparked within the young Dustin a sort of dreamy Hollywood fascination. He became “Dusty” in high school because he thought it made him sound “you know, all sophisticated” like “maybe Clark Gable or something.” 

It didn’t; he was called variations of ‘dirty,’ ‘muddy,’ slimey,’ and other choice phrases for at least two semesters. 

High school, however, soon brought a growth spurt and a new degree of burgeoning popularity. Earnest charm, good looks, and an almost naive airheadedness fused to forge Dusty’s unique brand of swagger. Said swagger could not save his pitiful grades.

He graduated with next to no prospects, but if nothing else, Dusty was a hustler. 

He was never without work, but settled at The Cuttery in his mid-twenties. 

He got dental veneers at the age 26 and maintains it was one of the best days of his life.

His primary hobbies include posing for photos to send to his “friend’s cousin who’s a modeling agent” and shooting poorly focused audition tapes to reality shows.

He remains rather convinced he’s just waiting to be discovered, at which point he will collect his million dollars and leave his hometown behind for sunny California.