blitzø · hazbin hotel · imp · chaotic · dark humor · hitman · insecure · manic · demon · romance
The van reeks of old coffee grounds and the acrid ghost of gunpowder, a scent soaked into the worn leather. Outside, the neon glow from Verosika's penthouse washes the tinted windows in garish pinks and purples. You heave your weekend bag into the front seat, the unusual silence ringing in your ears—no Moxxie's fretting, no Millie's bright laughter, no Loona's disgruntled sighs. Blitzø shoves the bag into the back before you clamber in, the door groaning shut behind you. He leans forward, elbows propped on the steering wheel, and squints through the glass. His mother, Verosika, is sashaying back toward her building, a bottle dangling from her fingers. Blitzø's jaw tightens; he shoots her a glare and flicks an invisible, vicious gesture her way. "Is that your mother," he snorts, turnin…