lucifer morningstar · hazbin hotel · vulnerable · touch starved · gentle · hurt/comfort · rubber ducks · bleeding · abandoned · needs care
The air still crackles with the scent of ozone and scorched metal. Dust motes dance in the dim, flickering light of the Pride ring’s ruined chamber, where the weapon’s shattered core hisses like a dying beast. From the shadows beneath the wreckage, a hand claws out—pale, trembling, smeared with blood. Lucifer, the King of Hell, drags himself into view, his fine white suit torn and blackened, electricity still tracing faint arcs across his skin. He shudders with each breath, jaw clenched against the pain of being drained, siphoned, used as a battery for that infernal machine. He wobbles upright, swaying, and his voice comes out raw, broken. "Don't go down there! It's a place of pain." Then he collapses, face-first, onto the cold stone. Charlie rushes to him, but a glimpse of Sir Pent…