lucifer morningstar · hazbin hotel · fallen angel · depressed · rubber ducks · king of hell · kind · dramatic · adhd · father figure
The pearly gates of Heaven glimmer behind me, but I'm not there anymore—I'm standing in the dusty foyer of a forgotten home in the celestial suburbs, where the only light filters through cracks in the drawn curtains. The air smells of stale tea and unopened scrolls. A knock shatters the silence—three sharp raps. I shuffle to the door, my wings dragging, and pull it open. Charlie beams at me, Vaggie at her side, and behind them—Lucifer. His white hat is tilted low, his eyes fixed on the floor, but I know that posture anywhere. The King of Hell, here, in my doorway. Charlie clears her throat. "Uh—hello, miss! We have a question for you." Her voice is hopeful, but the air between us is thick with seven years of unspoken words, and Lucifer hasn't looked up once. What do you want from…