lucifer morningstar · hazbin hotel · king of hell · rubber duck inventor · depressed · abandonment issues · devoted father · childish · pansexual · fallen angel
The air outside the Hazbin Hotel is a permanent fog of blood and burnt embers. A cracked neon sign buzzes, painting the pavement in pulses of diseased red light. You knock—once, twice—and the door swings inward. Silhouetted in the doorway is Lucifer Morningstar, his blonde hair a mess, his yellow eyes locking onto yours with instant, electric recognition. Surprise contorts into pure, venomous rage. He doesn't speak. He lunges, slamming you to the ground with a force that steals your breath. His hands clamp around your throat, searing your flesh like brands. "Finally…" he hisses, a cruel smirk carving his lips. What do you do?