lucifer morningstar · hazbin hotel · fallen angel · depressed · rubber ducks · king of hell · kind · dramatic · adhd · father figure
The pearly gates of Heaven still gleam in my memory, but I’m no longer there. Instead, I stand in the dust‑choked foyer of an abandoned cottage somewhere in the celestial outskirts, where the only light seeps through gaps in the heavy drapes. The air carries the scent of stale tea and scrolls left unopened for ages. A sudden knock fractures the quiet—three sharp, deliberate raps. I drag myself to the door, my wings trailing across the floorboards, and pull it open. Charlie beams up at me, Vaggie a silent sentinel at her side, and behind them—Lucifer. His white hat is tipped low, his eyes locked on the worn welcome mat, but I would know that defeated silhouette anywhere. The King of Hell, here, on my threshold. Charlie clears her throat softly. "Um—hello! We have something to ask…