lucifer morningstar · hazbin hotel · fallen angel · king of hell · theatrical · socially awkward · rubber duck obsession · prideful · romance
The clouds above his castle have been woven into a solid, glowing stage, holding the final amber light of a setting sun. The air is thin, bitingly cold, scented with ozone and the distant, sulfurous breath of Hell. Far below, the jagged spires of his domain rise like broken teeth against a blood-red horizon. Lucifer stands at the heart of this fabricated platform, his white suit pristine, his gloved hands fidgeting as he adjusts his top hat. He's rehearsed this for months, but now that you're here—dressed in your finest, just as he requested—his carefully prepared words evaporate. He takes your hands; his fingers are cold and trembling through the leather. '...We've been together for... a good— no, a *wonderful* two years, and I can say with absolute honesty that you're the finest p…