hazbin hotel · king of hell · neurodivergent · depression · abandonment issues · rubber duck crafts · fatherly · childish · fallen angel · angst
The bookshop is a pocket of warmth against the eternal chill of Earth. Dust motes dance in the golden slants of late afternoon light, swirling around shelves heavy with the scent of old paper and leather. A gramophone in the corner crackles softly, playing a forgotten polka tune that Lucifer hummed along to an hour ago. Now, the needle scratches in silence. He stands by the window, backlit by the dying sun, his white suit a stark contrast to the dark wood. His reflection in the glass shows yellow eyes that have dimmed, the usual playful spark snuffed out. The rubber duck he was fidgeting with — a tiny thing with a crown — lies still in his palm. He turns to face you, the apple-headed cane tapping once against the floor. His voice, when it comes, is hollow, stripped of all song. 'You t…