You may know me from such films as-

Who: Angel Dust, OTA
What: Various Past versions of Angel Dusts
When: During the Retrospect flood
Where: Throughout the barge
Warnings: substance abuse, sex work, will update

Angel Dust pre-hotel

He doesn’t know where the fuck he is, but that’s not entirely unfamiliar. Maybe it’s some kind of theme party? Honestly, he doesn’t have the brain power to be that concerned about it right now, not when he’s fucking jonesing. And of course there’s not a vending machine to be found. But that’s fine, he can work his charms.
Angel flashes a knowing smile at the nearest face.

“Hey there~ Ya lookin’ for a good time?”

Angel Dust (freshly dead omg why am I a fucking spider???)

A horrified scream is quickly followed by Angel Dust practically falling over himself in an attempt to get away from whatever’s scared him so badly, hyperventilating, and seeming almost as unsteady on his feet as a newborn foal.

“The hell am I?!?” he pants in alarm, trying to shrink back from the sight of his extra, furry appendages, “The fuck is goin’ on??”

Anthony

The blond looks like he’s walked straight out the background of a 1940s mafia movie, sitting at the lounge bar and nursing a drink. Whether he’s been told off by now or not, he’s on what must be his fifth cigarette, still trying to make sense of what he’s been told.

Some kind of magic boat where he can become a better person. Sounds like the sort of bullshit his mind would make up in some kind of fever dream. Or hell, maybe he has finally kicked the bucket and the shit they say in church ain’t even close to being right. Couldn’t be right if he wasn’t in Hell.

“Ya buy any of this shit?” he asks his neighbor.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

She jumps violently, jarring her oozing back and seeping eye horribly. Every time she thinks she's got a handle on the pain, the humiliating weakness, some shit happens. She turns, and it feels like moving through molasses. She's managed to sort of stuff a torn bit of her undershirt in her socket, so at least it's not gushing or dripping on anyone, but she still looks just about fucked.

And that, blurry as he's rendered by her suddenly halved vision and blood loss, is exactly the kind of freaky horror they warned the exorcists about. She stumbles backward, wordless, horror twisting her face one way and pain shoving it back the other.

"Well fuck you too, Toots. You ain't lookin' so hot yourself right now, ya know," Angel snaps, crossing both sets of arms.

Wait.
Is that blood gold?

Angel squints at the girl in question.
"...the fuck are you?"

"Hey, fuck you," is startled out of her, but it's shaky and soft by the time the angry impulse gets out of her mouth. She's struggling to... parse whatever his thing is. There are angels and winners at least as weird, but not so, well, angular, scary. They're shiny and pretty in heaven. She shrinks away from him, and that hurts, too.

His face scrunches, ready to lay into her, but the way she shrinks back makes his brows soften uncertainly. This shit ain't his problem...but he feels an uncomfortable stirring of guilt and sighs heavily.

"Come on, lets get ya cleaned up. People see ya lookin' like this and you'll be easy pickins."

That at least keeps her from trying to get further from him. "I, um... Cleaning's gonna change that?" She is easy pickings, right? She's too hurt to fight, she came to here without her armor or spear, and, oh, wait, this is a trap, right? Demon stuff. "Not that easy." Which doesn't make a lot of sense. Her brain is struggling.

"Hm? Oh, hello."

He's actually in here scooping ice cubes into plastic bags. The bartender is off being seven or something, he assumes.

"What's there to buy or not buy ...? Oh, OH, sorry!"

Focus up, Steven.

"You must have just arrived, I'm Steven." He sticks his hand over the bar to shake. "Yes, I do buy it, I think? With a couple of asterisks. Sorry, we're going through a bit of a thing, right now, but I'm happy to answer any questions you've got. Can you tie this off?"

He plops a bag in front of Anthony. Ice cubes.

He seems normal at least, and Anthony's eyes flick over him with visible relief.

"Anthony," he answers in turn, shaking his hand and nodding. Holding his cigarette in the corner of his mouth he ties off bag with visibly bruised knuckles. Don't worry about that. He's completely normal too.

"What sort of thing?" he asks, and then more conversationally- "You must be right in the thick a shit back home, huh?" he notes, assuming everyone must be from the same time period.

"Oh, here, keep one of these for yourself, as well, if you like-"

His hands, Steven means. The ice is for everybody, after all, even though, like, mostly for the kids? He drops another bag on the countertop.

"I've been here for about a month now, actually! Wasn't doing much at home, only working retail. Um, and there's something odd going on - do you know what floods are yet?"

"Oh yeah, uh- some fight the other night, out drinkin', don' really remember," he dismisses with a grateful smile, tying off the new bag and making a face as he sets it against his knuckles.

"A month? Shit, so...this ain't gonna be over quick then?" Anthony winces. He head tilts, reasonably sure he doesn't mean just the water sort of flood, and he shakes his head. "Not really. Is this gonna be more or less weird than 'the magic boat where ya can become a better person' thing? Am I gonna need a drink?"

Steven blinks hard a few times at the smile. Aw, he's cute! Too young for Steven, gosh, but cute.

"You mean you being here? Probably not, I think someone said the fastest graduation is about a year, but... you'll be okay, I promise. The people here are really reliable, you can lean on them. Present situation notwithstanding, because, em, the people here keep turning back into kids?"

Just you wait, soon Anthony'll have a have more than half a century over Steven.

"Yeah?" Anthony gives a thoughtful hum, and honesty, a year away from Pops doesn't sound so bad. The kid situation though- "Ugh," his nose scrunches, and he gives a relieved laugh that he isn't caught up in that, as far as he knows at least. "You're not gonna try an' rope me inta babysittin' with ya, are you? 'Cause I'll have you know, I ain't a good influence~"

"I don't think they'd accept babysitting," Steven says, grimacing. "It's part of the, er, issue? A lot of them have not exactly had normal childhoods, and they've got knives, or - or they're hiding in the walls or something. I really just want to try to get them eating and not bleeding too much."

There's a very small, very green child staring up at him with intense eyes.

"What's hell?"

She can't be more than six or seven, and demands more than asks. But he's fascinating.

The spider rears back from the demon(?) child, but between the two of them she's by far the least horrifying of them, and Anthony blinks hard, trying to shake whatever kind of hallucination he's woken up in.

"The fuck-?" he groans, and tries to convince himself this is just his mind crashing out. "Ya mean ya don' know what Hell is? Hell. The fire, an' torture, an' shit? Where ya go when ya fucked up your whole life."

"That just sounds like where people go when my mother's mad at them," D'Vana says as if that's the most normal thing in the world. "Most of them don't come back." She hasn't been allowed to help yet, but maybe soon?

"What planet are you from?" She's never seen an alien like him in her data crystals.

Edited 2026-03-29 20:22 (UTC)

You may know me from such films as-

pre hotel/gore (angelic, gold, still gross)

no subject

no subject

so sorry, life ate me, i'm back <3

life strikes again

anthony

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

so sorry, life ate me, i'm back <3 also i love Steven~

no worriez we all got stuff goin on, is nbd <3

Freshly Dead

<3

cw: small child talking casually about torture