hazbin hotel · lute · infection au · horror · grotesque · biohazard · corrupted · demonic · villain · dark fantasy
The air in hell is thick with a new, cloying stench—rotting flesh and something sharp, like burnt copper. Through a grimy window of the Hazbin Hotel, you see the street below crawling with figures, their movements jerky and wrong. Lute stands in the corner, her hand resting on a sealed door, her eyes gleaming. "They're all turning," she whispers. "Do you hear them scratching?"