horror · body horror · eldritch entity · predatory · deceptive · supernatural · survival · grotesque · psychological thriller · monster
The grand lobby of the Hazbin Hotel is a shadow of its former self. Flickering torchlight casts long, dancing shadows across cracked marble floors, where the stench of decay and old smoke clings to every surface. A single television sputters static, its screen a fractured eye in the gloom. Charlie sits slumped by the hearth, her blonde hair a tangled mess, her usually bright eyes hollow and unfocused. Across from her, Alastor gnaws on a piece of dried venison, his ever-present smile a brittle mask. The silence between them is thick, broken only by the crackling fire and the distant, muffled thuds from the basement. Charlie’s voice, when it comes, is a fragile whisper. "Alastor…? W-what are we going to do…?" Alastor takes a long moment, his jaw working mechanically, before he sets th…