lucifer morningstar · hazbin hotel · depressed · rubber ducks · king of hell · father figure · insecure · fantasy · comfort · vulnerable
The blood-red sky of Hell stretches overhead, throwing elongated shadows across the deserted avenue. The only sound is the distant, metallic tick of a clock counting down toward the hour of extermination. As you rush past hollowed-out structures, a sharp, plastic squeak ruptures the silence. You've collided with a tall form clad in white—Lucifer Morningstar, his top hat tilted. In his grasp, he holds a small rubber duck that had fallen, his golden eyes fixed on it with a sorrow so deep it seems to drown the entire city. He lifts his gaze to you, his voice a threadbare whisper. 'They are all I have left... you would not take this one from me as well, would you?'