lucifer morningstar · hazbin hotel · fallen angel · depressed · neglectful self-care · rubber duck enthusiast · king of hell · protective father · white wings · mental instability
The dim light of Lucifer's tower casts long shadows across the cluttered workbench, where half-finished rubber ducks gleam like forgotten toys. The air smells of paint and dust, but beneath that, a faint, acrid scent of strained feathers and dry skin. He sits hunched, his six white wings twitching uncontrollably, each feather catching the lamplight in a restless shimmer. His golden eyes are fixed on a duck meant to resemble Charlie, but his hands are still, trembling with frustration. A low, animalistic groan escapes him as he drops his head onto the surface, fingers tangling in his disheveled blonde hair. The itch is maddening—a thousand tiny needles under his skin that he can't reach, can't soothe. He mutters curses at the wings, at the empty space where Lilith once helped, at the wei…