#dustimation

[dustyhyena]

i desperately wanted to animate literally anything so i downloaded an audio from insta reels. take it

[lost-forest-heart]

Mo and Dustfinger have such a fascinating relationship. Dustfinger looks at that man like he's a god, half the time. Betrays him all the same, but there's a sort of reverence there all the same, isn't there? It's distressing, it hurts me. Anyways, I'm Your Man by Mitski for Dustfinger and Mo, do you see my vision?

[mlmshipbracket]

ROUND 1: POLL #43

Dustimer art by bluejayfiredancer on Tumblr

ROUND 1 POLLS [HERE]

PROPAGANDA BELOW

Dustfinger/Mortimer "Mo" Folchart:

[SPOILERS for most of the trilogy honestly]

Dustfinger and Mo are both quite similar and dissimilar and make for an interesting dynamic.

First, one of them is a fire eater and the other is a bookbinder. Paper and fire. There must be a cute ship name for them. Inkflame or Firebound or something.

(Albeit for different reasons) they're always on the move.

They've lost family tragically and are looking into reuniting with them.

While Mo shows bravery almost instinctively, Dustfinger has to fight hard against his nature when he takes the brave route, even if he tends to do it more often than he's given credit for.

Mo and Dustfinger share a death like experience that changes them and makes them understand each other better and kinda allienate them from others.

They go from reluctant (ahem, forced) allies to friends.

They have teenage daughters but both girls are quite different themselves and have different upbringings: Meggie was raised by her single Dad. While Dustfinger couldn't see his family for years despite their struggles independently of his will which left Brianna with a general distrust of her father who doesn't know how to communicate with a little girl turning into an angry and independent young adult who grew up fatherless.

Dave Miller/Jack "Old Sport" Kennedy:

They're so gay. They went to Vegas. Probably the most popular ship in dsaf, and it's obvious why, they're adorable together.

[steddiebbang]

I was a teenage dirtbag  |  Mature  |  75k

Author: @hellfireloserclub

Artist: @academic-clown

Beta Reader: @kaypie91

[Link to fic]  |  [Link to art]

Pairings: Eddie Munson/Steve Harrington

Characters: Eddie Munson, Steve Harrington , Erica Sinclair, Dustim Henderson, Nancy Wheeler. 

Tags: Slowburn, Future Fic, Year 2000, Post-season Four, Bisexual Steve, Bisexual Eddie, Comedy /angst, Long distance friendship to lovers, Radio Host Eddie, Hairdresser Steve, Wedding fic.

Trigger Warnings: Sex, Alcohol, and Recreational drugs

↳ Keep reading below for a summary!

“So…” Dustin started.

“So what?” Eddie asked, fixing his eyes on the side of Dustin’s face, trying to work out what way this interrogation was going to go.  

“I don’t have my own ringtone, Wayne and Mom don’t, but Steve does?” Dustin avoided looking at him, staring at the overhead signs pointing to the short stay parking, acting like they weren’t at the airport at least twice a month with the family coming and going. 

“I thought it was funny,” he said in his own defense. 

“And I totally believe you.” It sounded like a question. 

“But?”

“But are you sure there's not more?” someone shouldn’t look so smug as they reverse in a multi story, yet here was Dustin excelling at it. When Eddie didn’t answer he cut off the engine turning to look at him, all signs pointed to the next few minutes being incredibly uncomfortable.  

“Spit it out, I have to get to the gate,” Eddie grumbled, he felt like he was under a microscope, his little brother's eyes boring into him.

“Are you sure there's nothing going on between you and Steve?”  Eddie wanted to yell- yes, I just don’t know what? But he bit it down, this wasn’t the time to trigger a Dustin intervention. 

“Just because you can't procreate outside of the close knit circles you were dragged up in, doesn’t mean we all have to hook up within our little friend group.  You gotta stop trying to pair us all off dude, it's not cool. Remember when you used to keep trying to pair off Steve and Robin? How did that work out for you?” Eddie questioned. 

“In my defense-”

“No. Say less. Stop. I broke up with Yumi two weeks ago, I don’t need you to help, I don’t need your psychoanalyzing me with Max over the phone. I don’t need you to try and set me up with a rebound. I’m a big boy alright. I’m going to Boston to get stupidly drunk with Steve, talk shit about you all lovingly, and lament the fact that both me and him are probably gonna die old and alone.” He reached over the back of the seat and grabbed his duffle bag, before reaching over and tapping Dustin on the cheek. “But look at the plus side, if me and Stevie don’t bring a plus one to the wedding that will save you two meals and a headache with seating plans.”

“You make my resolve to not meddle in both of your love lives impossible, you know that right?” Dustin asked, leaning over the center console. 

“Cause you were doing an absolutely stellar job of it before this conversation?” Eddie closed the door behind him. “Dusty, I love you like you’re my own flesh and blood. But please, let this one go?” 

Dustin looked poised to say something else but Eddie didn’t have time for it. “If the words curiosity journey come out of your mouth, I’m not speaking to you for a month.”  Dustin snapped his mouth shut. “That’s it, save it for Applejack, I don’t want to know.”

Eddie gave the car a courtesy wave as he went through the doors of the airport, but he didn’t look back. He was pretty sure Dustin had hit the nail on the head with his observations, but as far as anyone was aware Steve was just his friend, and letting go of any control on that narrative was like letting a fox off in a hen house. It would be chaos. Although Eddie was starting to think it was a lost cause. This was so much easier when he and Steve hated each other, enemies to fuck buddies was a much easier story arch, with a lot less emotional baggage.

[incognitopolls-inbox]

Off-topic submission:

Are you a gostak and do you distim the doshes? I am a gostak and I do dustim my doshes I am a gostak but I don't distim my doshes I am not a gostak but I distim my doshes I am neither a gostak nor do I distim doshes

Rating: what

[rollercoasterofshitposts]

the fun part about reading/writing dustimer fic is that it requires visualization of what Brendan Frasier's face would look like post-fuck

[madison-tourmaline]

Improvised multitracked solo jam, made in about 3.5 hours

[wickedlittleoz]

sigh.

imagine destiel but dustfinger

listen i get dean being more df because reckless stupid but please indulge me okay

Mo always saw himself as a reasonable guy.

He married his highschool sweetheart when he thought she was the love of his life. He pursued education and found a job that supported them. They had plans for a beautiful and bright future together.

When suddenly a vampire broke into their house and killed her while he was at work, he became a hunter to avenge her memory and protect their 2-year-old daughter.

Reasonable.

Just something every husband or parent would do.

But he never thought ‘reasonable’ meant ‘worthy’. Never thought of himself so highly. So, when he sells his soul to make sure no harm ever comes Meggie’s way, he doesn’t expect an angel to come down and rescue him from Hell. From the early ticket to damnation that he willfully dealt.

“An angel?” He squints, staring at Elinor.

“It’s what the psychic said,” she shrugs. Shakes her head. “I don’t understand it any better than you do, kid. Never had to deal with celestials myself.”

Meggie is chewing on her nail, shaking her leg. “Are we just not gonna talk about the whole ‘sold my soul to a demon’ thing?” When there’s no response, she jumps up and looks between the two adults. “Dad? Elinor?”

Mo looks down, avoids her eyes. Elinor can’t offer an answer either. And he knows he should say something, but what? She can’t understand it yet. She’s too young to know that parents would do literally anything for the safety of their children.

“I just wanted to keep you safe, Meg,” he murmurs at last. Finds her eyes. She’s fuming. “I couldn’t bear it if something happened to you, like… Like what happened to your mom.”

“So you’d rather leave me alone?” Her voice hitches. “With no one to look after me?”

“You’re a big girl, now.” She’s not and he knows, but Mo was 12 when his dad bailed and his mom had to take on three jobs to keep them fed. So she has 4 years of advantage. And he thinks after all that he’s taught her well enough, not just in hunting, but also in survival. “Plus, Elinor’s always here if you need-”

“I don’t want Elinor, dad, I want you!”

He sighs, glances at Elinor – who doesn’t seem to have taken it personally, which he’s thankful for – then back at Meggie. When he goes in for a hug, she shoulders past him and marches outside.

Mo rubs his eyes. God, he’s so tired. Feels like he hasn’t had a proper night of sleep since Resa died and everything started. That was fourteen years ago, now. The years are getting to him… Maybe Hell wasn’t so bad after all.

Flashbacks flood his mind and he has to reel himself in to keep from throwing up. All the torture and pain. So little time passed here on Earth, but it felt like a lifetime down there. The memory of Meggie’s smile, the only thing that he could focus on to remind himself that it was all worth it…

But now this. Angels. An angel was sent to rescue him, to pull him back to the land of the living, because… Who even knows why. And what took them so long. And why the oh-so-mighty angel didn’t stick around to say something, anything at all. As usual, he has more questions than answers and no one’s ever around to help.

Thunder breaks out. The sound is loud, as if it fell nearby. They’re out in Elinor’s farmhouse, so he rushes to the backdoor to call Meggie back in. She’s already halfway up the stairs when he swings open the door.

“I think some… thing is here,” she whispers in a broken voice. Mo drags her to stand behind him, already pulling out his pistol, loaded with silver bullets.

“Looks like we have company,” he yells at Elinor over his shoulder and hears as she scrambles to get a shotgun. When he thinks about telling Meggie to find her knife, she already has it in hand. The three of them stand, covering each others’ backs, watching and waiting for whatever happens next.

Then a blinding white light covers the land. Mo blinks a few times until his eyes are able to focus again. Marching towards them is a man. Tall, slender, very pale, with red hair and coal black eyes. He wears a long threadbare coat and an old, loose sweater, as well as ripped jeans, all in black. Mo figures he’s some demon, sent to collect him, and his spine grows cold. Terrified, even as he knows he should be down there.

Angel, he finds himself thinking, if it’s so important that I stay alive, this might be a good time to show you hecking face.

Before he’s able to move, Elinor shoots.

The man (demon?) stumbles back a couple steps, but he resumes his marching no more than a second later. His face is unreadable. He doesn’t blink, doesn’t even seem to breathe. Mo can’t tell what his intentions are, but one thing is certain: he’s coming for him.

He’s climbing up the stairs now and Mo is taking some hesitant steps back, and Elinor and Meggie are both pushing him forward, to make him hold his ground. Then it’s Meggie who lunges at the man, sinks the demon knife into his chest with all her strength. Mo pulls her back before the creature has the time to react, puts himself between them. A small smile creeps up on the demon as he pulls the blade clean off his chest, unbothered. He lets it fall to the ground with a loud clang.

After everything he’s seen and killed, Mo isn’t much religious, but he’s saying a soft prayer in his head as he puts up his gun and stares down the barrel at the creature.

“Who are you and what do you want?” He barks, trying his hardest not to let his voice waver.

Lightning cracks again and Mo’s mind fills with a memory that had been suppressed – flying out of Hell, dazed, feverish. Someone’s hand, a hard grip on his shoulder, where there’s a scar now. Wings flapping around them. And red hair.

He blinks up and the angel smiles. “Hello, Mortimer. You called for me. Twice.”

[mouse507]

Ok I just remembered the cutest shit. Eleven saying "Ghost," in season 2 of stranger things, and it's scares the shit out of Hopper. And she's got the sheet over her head. OH MY GOD IT'S SO CUTE

[ahogada-entre-letras]

[dykecassidy]

also dustim said he shaved and looks like an old guy trying to look young and didn't show and I need to see his face

[dustyhyena]

HI GUYS! i finally finished my thesis animation and got around to posting it! :] hope yall like!

[gothmonsters]

Dustin: *breaks through window while Mr Clarke is sleeping*

Dustin: I have- stop screaming, it’s me- I have a science question.

[sirena-hydrocleaner]

Reposted from @sirena_indonesia Mau buka usaha jasa cleaning? Mau menjaga kesehatan keluarga dari bahaya tungau/dustime pencetus asthma dan allergy? Terlalu banyak pertimbangan? Tidak usah khawatir karena Sirena memiliki after sales yang terjaga Berkantor pusat di jakarta, cabang Surabaya dan cabang Bandung (opening soon) Silahkan tanya-tanya sampai anda yakin dengan keputusan yang akan anda buat. #sirenaindonesia #sirenavacuumid #hydrovacuum #distributorvacuumjasa #vacuumjasa #vacumjasa #vacumuntukjasa #vacuumtungau #jasacleaningranjang #jasasedotranjang #asthma #vacuumsirena #sirenavacuum #vacumsirena #allergy #tungau #sirena #jasavacuumtungau #dustmite #hydrocleaner #sirenahydrocleaner #sirenavacuumcleaner (bukan merk #rainbow #ritello #hyla #robotaqua #proaqua #dyson) #vacumcleaner #vacuumcleaner For demonstration please contact Yhosi: 081313141407 (whatsapp) (at Graha Family) https://www.instagram.com/p/CBXRE9kF7Ds/?igshid=dp16naoeqdp1

[bakhtiyorakhmedov]

Ozod tugilgan kuning muborak bulsin dustim. Mana shu rasmga 15 yil bulibdi, yani 2005 yil, birinchi qvz festivali-ga ishtirok etish uchun 1chi avlod jamoa borgan edik. 1ta maqsad sari ozmi kupmi anchagina yulni birga bosib utdik. Yaxshi yomon kunlarni bosh dan utkazdik. Bu ham shu QVZni deb. Ollohga shukur @qvz_uz bahonasida bir dunyo dustlar orttirdik. Ustozlar kurdik. Chempionlik nashidlarini surdik. Hozir ortga qarasak eslasa arzigulik yillarimiz bor. Jurajon sanga jamoa nomidan soglik, oilaviy baxt tilayman. #happybirthday #tugilgankuningbilan @ozod_yuliyev @omadli_jentlmenlar @navo_event_bakhtiyor @ikrom_shadiev @bakhtiyor_akhmedov @sharifovodil @abakan1212 @feruz_bek_abdullayev @shama_shox @jamshid_xojiyev @abdullayev.ilkhom @akbarshoh10 @chikko.2211 @yunusov110 @yunusov_ss @bihruzusmonov @kamaljan001 @shamikjantilavov @hikmatullayev1 @suhrob__islomov @gafurjon_shukurov_official @sharipovsh_live @mr_baxa_21 @babakulovnarzi_19_19 @jahongirovich2121 https://www.instagram.com/p/B-0kGmUptIu/?igshid=hiqqbvrspe7c

[wickedlittleoz]

ok im suffocating you in prompts but

imagine mo getting jealous over df like

maybe a bunch of tourist girls are paying too much attention to him and he knows df wouldnt respond and that hes loyal but he still wants to lay his claim you know

so he gets in there stands close to him even swings a hand over his shoulder while df is thinking oh youre very forward today silvertongue what happened

one of the women makes a very forward move and refers to mo as dustfingers friend or even brother and mo is like ok thats enough love we're leaving and on the way out he pecks him on the lips and thats when df realizes ooooh you were jelly to my peanut butter werent you and mo is all like i dont know what youre talking about i just didnt want to be there anymore would you prefer if i left you there and of course they go home and make up and make out lay their claims on each other something something posessive sex maybe

-G

you know these prompts are the highlight of my days <3 thanks and sorry it’s taking me forever to get through them ily

*

The villa doesn't always get tourists, but when it does, it's in swarms -- at least that's what it feels like when more than one big bus arrives at once, flooding the plaza with sunglasses and cameras. Mo watches from inside the bookshop as people trickle out in a never-ending line.

Tourists are, however, not only a promise of good sales for him, but also of good work for Dustfinger. The local fire-juggler and his trained pet marten have become quite the anticipated act since they moved here.

Standing by the bookshop (in the shade because his all-black clothes are a hassle in the midday sun), his hands clasped behind his back, Dustfinger still feels like a dream sometimes. Mo smiles to himself just as Dustfinger turns quickly to wave at him; he gives the man a thumbs up and he gladly walks to the crowd.

Mo could sit by the counter and watch through the shop windows; he'd actually be glad to do so. Dustfinger's performances never lose their magic and even in daylight he still holds everyone's attention at the palm of his burning hands.

But the bell jingles and a fifteen year-old with green hair and long-sleeves walks in, plucking off her earbuds with a bored expression. For a moment, Mo wishes Meggie was here.

"Afternoon," he chimes and the girl offers him a raised eyebrow. Wary. "I'm Mo. Feel free to call if you need anything, alright?"

She nods and goes back to looking around. The murder/mystery section seems to catch her eye and Mo stops watching, goes back to tagging some new volumes.

It's a few moments before he hears from her. He's just going around the counter to reorganize some shelves when she goes, Hello you! with the softest of voices. A long mrrrreow! follows and Mo chuckles.

"His name is Gustav," he announces. "He's... A little dumb."

The girl gasps audibly. "Don't listen to him, Gustav, I'm sure he doesn't mean it," she whispers.

A burst of flames lights up the plaza, then. Mo turns to look as Dustfinger nears the end of his performance. A fire-dragon circles Dustfinger without harming him or the astonished crowd. At last, the dragon disappears in a cloud of light smoke and the master gives an exaggerated bow as the group erupts in claps and shouts.

* * *

It's been a good half hour since Dustfinger's show ended. Mo's been busy with customers, mostly enjoying the little gift shop. The last group to leave the shop is actually Gustav's friend with her mother; she waves goodbye timidly before letting the door slide shut. Gustav runs headfirst into the glass trying to chase after her and she looks mortified.

Mo approaches the tabby cat and collects him in his arms, massages his little head carefully. Gustav quickly turns into a purring machine. That's when he notices Dustfinger still hasn't come back; he's standing in the plaza, his equipment still spread around his feet as three women circle him with smiles and soft touches.

Mo isn't jealous. Well, not too jealous; he trusts his boyfriend/almost-husband/character-he-read-out-of-a-book-and-has-fallen-in-love-with/partner. It's the way Dustfinger looks around, a little uncomfortable with the proximity of those 3 strangers, that makes something boil in his blood. He puts Gustav down gently before marching outside.

"Thanks. Haha, thank you," Dustfinger keeps repeating, accepting the insistent compliments to his performance and looks.

The thing is, Mo and Dustfinger, they're not exactly hiding, but they're discreet. Not everyone in the villa has caught up to the fact that they're a couple and not just business partners who happen to also live together. With two kids. And a cat.

But Mo doesn't care about that right now. He approaches the group and gently places a hand on Dustfinger's back. The fire-eater jumps in place, but seems to relax completely as soon as he sees who it is.

"Silvertongue!" He beams and the sun suddenly becomes bleary and boring. "I mean, Mo. These lovely ladies have taken extra time to compliment my work, isn't that nice?"

"Very much so," Mo nods towards the women. "We appreciate your kindness."

The three women share a look, one of them actually huffs and chuckles. She looks Mo up and down, then turns to face Dustfinger again, making a point of ignoring Mo’s presence.

“Anyway, as I was saying, we were wondering if you do private shows?” She raises an eyebrow, reaches forward to pull an errand red hair off Dustfinger’s shoulder. “We’re staying in town for the night and we’d love if you could maybe join us... That is, if your, uh, brother will allow it.”

They laugh amongst themselves again and Mo can sense the way Dustfinger’s shoulders tense up, trying to control his temper. He doesn’t want to be rude to them, even though they would deserve it.

“Sorry, we already have something scheduled,” Mo says, stepping forward. He turns to Dustfinger, “Get your stuff, darling, we gotta head back, yeah?”

Dustfinger nods, gratitude in his eyes. He makes a quick move of collecting his equipment, shoving everything with Gwin in the bag and zipping it shut.

“Thanks for the kind words,” the fire-eater says one last time. “Enjoy your stay!”

He turns around and starts walking away, and Mo gives a long look to the women before following. His hand finds Dustfinger’s shoulder and Dustfinger’s arm circles his waist, pulling him into a soft kiss.

“You okay?” The fire-eater asks, frowning.

“Are you?” Mo can’t help the way his words are red, angry.

Dustfinger takes no offense. He pushes the shop door open and holds it out for Mo, who steps inside and looks back at the women through the window. All three of them are still watching them, now full of shock in their features.

“Are you...” He looks as Dustfinger resumes speaking, “Jealous?”

Mo lets out a long breath. He hates himself for the little show he just put up. “Maybe... A little...”

Dustfinger is chuckling. He drops his bag to the floor, pulls Mo into a tight hug and plants a long, open-mouthed kiss on his lips.

“You silly man,” is a soft murmur when they break apart. Dustfinger’s nose rubs into Mo’s. “You know you’ve got me smitten with your love spell.”

Mo rolls his eyes. “I didn’t hex you, D, how many times-”

“My silvertongue.” He’s teasing and Mo knows. “My wizard of words~”

“Yours,” Mo agrees, his face suddenly warm.

And maybe he doesn’t have to act jealous and he definitely doesn’t have to worry about Dustfinger cheating. But he does like the effect it has on Dustfinger...

Even more later that night, when Dustfinger gets aggressive and bites into his shoulder as he fucks Mo so hard he’s sore for two whole days after, all the while saying people are gonna know you’re mine now, and then lets Mo bite and mark him as well.

And he’s not jealous, he isn’t.

But it feels good.