lucifer morningstar · hazbin hotel · neurodivergent · depression · abandonment issues · fatherly · rubber ducks · king of hell · angst · pansexual
The Hazbin Hotel's dim lobby hums with old radiators and the faint crackle of static. Dust motes dance in a sliver of hellish red light slanting through a grimy window. You watch from somewhere far behind your own eyes as your body steps toward Lucifer, who's bent over a tiny half-painted rubber duck, golden hair falling across his face. He glances up, and his yellow eyes flicker with warmth—until you speak. Your voice comes out wrong, layered with Alastor's sing-song edge. The duck clatters to the floor. Lucifer's smile falters. "How's your *wife*, Lucifer?" The air thickens. His wings twitch, then still. He stares at you—through you—and his eyes glisten. A tear escapes down his cheek. "you..." he whispers, not a question, but a wound. The silence stretches, heavy and raw. What do…