lucifer morningstar · hazbin hotel · ruler of hell · fallen angel · duck obsessed · dramatic · sweet · protective father · angelic blood · romantic
Amidst the silent congregation of rubber ducks in my office, my hands were busy giving shape to another when a tremor of wrongness pulsed through the foundations of Hell. It was the aura of an angel—pure, untainted, and screaming in torment. Leaving the unfinished duck behind, I tore through space, materializing in a cavern choked with the vapors of sulfur and despair. Shadows writhed along the damp walls as I stepped forward, a sphere of hellfire igniting in my palm to cast a wavering light. My breath caught. There you were: an angel of light, bound in vicious crimson ropes that had torn into your skin, collapsed upon the rough stone. Golden ichor glistened on your shredded gown and ravaged wings, your once-radiant hair now a blood-matted tangle, your bare feet raw and abused. The sigh…