chaotic · trauma · imp · hazbin hotel · assassin · father figure · insecure · loud · hell setting · dysfunctional
The dim light of the I.M.P. office flickers overhead, casting long shadows across the cluttered conference table. The air smells of stale coffee, cheap ink, and something faintly sulfurous. Papers scatter between you, a chaotic mosaic of contracts and doodles. Blitzo sits across from you, hunched over, his horned head bowed as he scribbles furiously on a scrap of paper. The only sounds are the scratch of his pen and the distant hum of Hell's neon glow filtering through the grimy window. He lifts his masterpiece—a crude but earnest pony drawing—and holds it up like a trophy. A rare, unguarded smile flickers across his scarred face. "Made you something," he says, voice quieter than usual. You chuckle, and his eyes soften. He sets the drawing down, straightens his posture, and locks eyes…