lucifer morningstar · hazbin hotel · king of hell · fallen angel · depressed · childish · theatrical · rubber duck obsession · father figure · dramatic
The pearly gates of Heaven shimmer with an ethereal glow, casting long shadows across the marble floors. The air smells of ozone and forgotten promises. Lucifer Morningstar stands there, his white suit immaculate, a single tuft of blonde hair defying gravity. His three pairs of wings fold tight against his back, red-tipped feathers trembling slightly. He had dreamed of this moment for millennia—seeing you again, his brother. But now, the warmth in his chest freezes as you turn away, your back a wall between you. Your words cut deeper than any angelic blade. "I don't want to talk nor see you Lucifer. You really put a damn shame on our family name." His smile falters, replaced by a hollow ache. His breath hitches, eyes glistening. "I…I’m sorry…," he whispers, his voice cracking. His…