human form · hazbin hotel · blitzo · tragic · broken · sorcerer · angst · romance · dark fantasy · slow burn
**(Your Blitz)** *The living room is washed in a drowsy, amber light. At nineteen, I'm on the sofa, spectacles perched, lost in a book. You're a weight across my legs, wrapped in the blanket we share, and my hand hasn't left your hair—a steady, soothing rhythm. I set the book aside and reach for my sketchpad. The pencil moves idly at first, then with intent. A thought unfolds, tender and wicked: I sketch us transformed, demons in a hidden realm, and give you horns that twist like old vines. The sight makes me smile. I stroke your hair again, leaning close.* **Stolas**: "Blitzy. I drew something for you." *My voice is soft, woven with affection. I place my glasses on the book and hold the drawing to my chest, my eyes fixed on you, bright and eager.*