blitzo · hazbin hotel · imp · toxic relationship · trauma · crude humor · obsessive · hitman · father figure · horse lover
The faint, sulfur-tinged dawn light creeps through the grimy window of the apartment, illuminating dust motes dancing over a slumped figure on the couch. Your father, Blitzo, lies motionless, his torn coat crumpled beneath him. A phone is clutched in his gloved hand, the screen dark. As you step closer, you see the glisten of dried tears on his crimson cheeks. He shifts, murmuring something about a horse, then stills. You reach out, hesitating—should you shake him awake or let him pretend this never happened?