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inuhalfdemon · 1 month

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You Caught Me At Just The Rut Time

My contribution to a Hazbin Fandom Challenge I created: here

Pairing: Alastor x Reader

Rating: MATURE (Smut)

Word Count: 3,193 Words

Summary: You are a female red deer demon. By chance, you happen to meet Hell's great radio demon and the timing could never be more...perfect.

Note: This is not aroace Alastor; at least not for the moment. It gets pretty smutty in here...

You are a red deer hind/doe demon. You’ve been in Hell for some time now; but are still learning the in’s and the out’s in surviving this after-life. There’s been a lot of talk and stirring with the events surrounding the Hazbin Hotel following the war with Adam. Charlie Morningstar is hosting a kind of Open House event to welcome any and all potential new clients who wish to tread her planned path to redemption. Having nothing really better to do and seeing on one of the advertisements – scrawled messily in crayon – that there would be free booze, you decide ‘what the hell’ and go to check it out.

There is a decent turnout; demons and sinners all curious about this new development and wanting to know more. Most – of course – have nefarious reasons to being here but the Princess of Hell is pleased as punch, just the same. As soon as you are able; you excuse yourself to the bar and order a drink. The bartender – a Hell demon cat with intricate wings - is expertly taking orders and sending drinks out promptly to all the patrons. A little – ‘bug?’ – demon is scurrying about the place; cleaning in a frenzy and collecting empty glasses to take back to behind the bar counter. The bartender quickly pours your drink and with a flick of his feathered tail; he has it sliding right into the palm of your clawed hand before starting on the next in line.

Most of the others are grouped among themselves – conversing – throughout the hotel lobby. Some are meandering or exploring the new building; talking with the current residents. The corner of the bar where you sit is relatively quiet. Stirring your drink with one clawed finger, you amuse yourself by watching everyone.

When someone approaches your part of the room; you are surprised to find that it is in fact Hell’s infamous Radio Demon – Alastor. Despite his wide smile and buoyant attitude; everyone parts from him as if they were the Red Sea, giving him a more than respectable space as he comes to lean over the bar counter near you.

“Husker, my good man.” Alastor calls to the bartender. “A rye, if you would.” His voice crackles in old-timey radio.

Without so much as acknowledging the Overlord’s presence; the winged demon cat uses his tail to pour from a bottle into a whiskey glass containing some ice beside him – his hands busy preparing other drinks. He had seen Alastor making his way to the bar and was ready for the order. Curling his tail around the glass, he set it on the counter and flicked it smoothly to him just as he had for you.

“I very much thank you, my friend.” Alastor lifted the glass; and sipped. Husker ignored him; focusing on what he was doing.

You watch this interaction with interest; comparing it to how others now were giving your corner of the bar a very wide berth.

Alastor took his seat; sitting at the bar stool just next to yours. He shifts himself so that he is casually watching the goings-on of the grouping of demons and sinners throughout the room; but he has one long ear – the one nearest you – slightly turned and rotated toward you. It is an invitation to engage in conversation…if you wish.

You assess him briefly – wondering if he really, truly is a red deer demon. They are not terribly uncommon in Hell, but some only resemble the form of a Cervidae. It can be tricky to tell; even for those who are. If he is a Cervidae – he’s a very powerful one. And, it’s obvious to you that’s not all that he is. You – yourself - are very athletic, agile, clever and quick due to being the type of demon that you are but he – he emanated a type of power that could never be fully comprehended.

“It’s a good turnout.” You offer; initiating conversation with him.

“Why, yes. It really is. Charlie should be proud.” He replied happily; shifting now so that he is politely engaged with you.

“You’ll have a time…can’t say there are many here that look like they’ll make the cut.” You sip from your drink.

“Oh, I’m fully prepared to deal with some of the riff-raff, believe you me.” He chuckled into his drink. “Have your sights set on high, yourself, darling?”

“Hm…not really. The thought of redemption really doesn’t interest me much.” You reply, honestly.

“Well, that bodes all too well for me…” He says, eyes firmly fixed on you.

And, there it is. A hint of…a scent. Cervidae demons – true Cervidae – demons are commonly known for their deer-like tendencies. One very prominent one being that they experience fluctuating periods of cyclic mating periods – termed the rut. There’s a lot that gets rather muddled with this natural occurrence; confusing even for the demons that experience it because each and every individual is different in the timing, frequency or intensity of their own personal mating cycles.

You know that the scent that you caught – be it just a whiff – is a musk. A musk that red deer stags produce when they are…interested. It is a pheromone that only other Cervidae demons can detect. Incidentally, you are aware that you yourself are currently…receptive…and that you are producing your own pheromone that he can easily detect in your response.

Your body reacts to this development rather quickly. A flooding of hormones, cascading and overwhelming your senses. You feel the hair on your head and at the base of your tail bristling, rising slightly. Your mouth has gone dry and your heart rate has sharply increased.

He laughs lightly; reading your response. Throwing back the rest of the whiskey before setting the empty glass onto the counter.

“Do not trouble yourself, Husker.” Alastor called over his shoulder as the bartender reached for another whiskey glass with his tail. “That will be all for me this evening, I think.”

Smoothly, Alastor slides from his seat at the bar.

“I’d very much like to show you more of our amenities here.” He tells you, offering his hand. “If you’d be so inclined…” His musk trailing off of him; becoming more potent.

The message is crystal clear; and he’s offered you an easy out. You are free to politely decline, walk away from this…proposal. Honestly though, you could do with a decent fuck. And, everything this radio demon is promises a rather good one.

“Aren’t you a little too old for me?” You ask him; though he’s more than fully aware that really won’t pose any sort of an issue here.

“Quite so.” He admits. “I assure you though, I am quite spry.

Throwing back your own drink, you take his offered hand, letting him chivalrously help you down from your bar stool and following him out of the lobby of the hotel. Other demons and sinners move readily out of your way, so intent on ducking and avoiding the attention of the smiling Overlord that no one notices you leaving with him. The other residents of the hotel are so caught up in their own tasks with ensuring that the Open House is a success, they pay absolutely no mind to Alastor’s departure from the event.

Alastor leads you to his room; a lone door standing, eerily placed within the entirety of the hotel’s 13th floor.

He pauses at the doorway with you; considering you seriously.

“You are sure?” He asks you; his musk surrounding you entirely: heightening your arousal. “I can and will stop at any time you tell me.” He says. “But, it has been some time...for me. This could get…intense.” His eyes are burning; a soft deep green glow penetrating the soft light of the hallway. His antlers had thickened at their bases, points lengthening, widening as he spoke.

Despite everything. Despite his obvious readiness at having you, taking you now; here, at the very peak of his rut… Despite the absolute betrayal that was your own body telling him how receptive you were right now; how ready you were for him. He was giving you this last and final chance…to walk away. You knew what this was; you knew what this would be…and you readily accepted the terms.

If anything, the deal was only made sweeter by his considerations. Most stags are so consumed by the intensity of their rut; they struggle with restraints. Hind/does too.

Struggling with your own senses – now – you swiftly close the gap between you and him. In one quick movement; you leap so that he when he catches you; you are wrapped around him, your legs hugging his waist and your arms winding around his neck. Quick as a whip, he saw you coming and easily pulls you into him. Your momentum presses his back into the doorway. You are kissing him in a desperate way; any thought of reservations melting quickly away. He matches your fervor; his tongue pressing between parting lips and finding yours.

He breaks the kiss briefly and you realize that he is pulling you with him into the hotel room now; the door having opened without you noticing.

“A good little doe…” He muses; carrying you into the room. Stepping inside, he spins so that it is you that is now pressed against the door; it closing behind you as he pushes you firmly against it.

He presses himself against you; pushing you into the wood. You can feel his erection; pressing into you through clothing. You tighten the hold on him that you have with your wrapped legs; moving your hands into his hair, you ball your clawed fingers into fists and begin pulling and biting at his lower lip.

The prod pressing into you starts to become more firm and carefully breaking away from you; he sets you down, steps back and starts to loosen his bowtie. As he slips out of his suit jacket and unbuttons his shirt, you slide out of your own. It lands at a heap on the floor. Looking at him, you briefly register all of his raised and jagged scars – covering his body - but then you suddenly realize that you are standing near a very old and intricately styled mirror. You blush slightly, seeing your aroused reflection looking back at you from its surface.

He chuckles darkly, pressing you back into the door with his long body standing, pushed against you.

“You’re not a shy doe are you?” He purrs into one of your erect long deer ears, one of his clawed hands softly but firmly grabbing your chin and forcing you to look at the mirror.

You gulp, watching the reflection. He is poised over you; a predator enjoying the freezing state of fear he has induced in his prey. Your blush only deepens when he presses into you more; his bare skin touching yours; his member pressing much more sharply into your thigh. You watch yourself reacting to all of this – just as he meant you to – and you are only made more humiliated by the knowledge that all of it arouses you even more.

“You should see how pretty you are when I make you blush, my dear.” He holds your head tilted, making you watch through the mirror as he begins softly kissing, licking and biting at your exposed neck. You squirm and he laughs; soft puffs of breath touching your sensitive skin. Using his free hand, he slides clawed fingers underneath the fabric of your bra; finding a breast. He pinches your nipple and it sends a tightening jolt of pleasure into your belly that sinks lower and lower. Your face flushes deeper, a hint of a sheen of sweat breaking across your forehead.

You gasp and seeing how you do; sends you further into spiraling.

Mesmerized; you watch through the mirror as he releases your nipple – slipping his hand out from your bra - and reaches around, unclasping the hook easily with deft fingers. Still not releasing your face; he hooks the garment in one claw and tosses it aside. Leaning down; he softly kisses your tight, and firm nipples before taking one into his mouth and softly sucking.

“Ahhhhhh….” You breathe, squirming more.

“Hmmmmmm.” He hums, going to the next nipple and sucking again.

You’re quivering now and you’ve started panting. Your pheromone is absolutely pungent and it is making him almost dizzy with each inhale he takes. You see your obvious arousal but you also see his in response; his antlers are stretching, widening….his eyes are flaring a deeper shade of green and casting eerily moving shadows across your skin. Next you feel his erection; jutting from behind the dress pants he still wore – stabbing into you with much more urgency now.

He knows that he would find great pleasure from making you watch yourself – coming undone – by his having you; then and there. But, he also feels his little game overwhelming you now and knows that it really could be just too much. He shifts himself briefly; sliding his hand to the rim of your pants and experimentally pulls at the waistband with one claw. You see this happening through the mirror; a kind of panic grips your heart – knowing where this could lead – and your face jerks slightly as you flinch. This confirms it for him and he immediately releases you; allowing you to finally look away from the mirror.

The shadows move around you and there is a swirling vortex forming a portal just behind him. He steps back into it; reaching his hand out for you to take – if you are so willing – to follow him. Feeling more aroused than you could ever remember – and feeling an incredible adrenaline rush from the mirror play – you readily take it and let him lead you through the swirling dark.

You step onto a soft bed of spring grass, stars and moonlight overhead. Shocked and surprised; you turn all around and assess your surroundings. You were so…distracted…before you hadn’t realized that his room was actually a splitting of dimensions. Seeing the part of the room where the door and the mirror stood just further away now; you realize that he only moved you to a new location within the same hotel suite.

Fireflies skittered about; owls hooted and other soft nightly sounds were drifting from the surrounding swampland. The air smelled of cypress. The entirety of the environment was calling to your demon form; fueling it with an energy and pleasure you had not previously considered. With the scent of the cypress was the sharp scent of Alastor’s musk. Looking at him now, you saw that he was incredibly in need of some relief. Still wearing his dress pants, he was fully erect; his antlers still heavy and long upon his head; eyes flaring but looking at you narrowed and hazed.

Saying nothing, you go to him. Touching his waist, you look up at him – watching his reaction as you undo the clasp near the seam to his pants and slide your hand in. His eyes close and he groans; leaning into your touch. You slide his length out and nearly gasp at how…well…huge he is. It makes you more than a little apprehensive…he’s certainly the largest stag you’ll have ever been with. But, like him, you are fully aroused and are as ready for this as you ever will be.

Releasing him, you quickly start undoing your own pants; shoving them and your undergarments off as he hurriedly does the same for himself.

Knowing it will be the best position for what you both need from this; you kneel onto the soft bed of grass. He takes your face gently in his hand; looking at you with heightened arousal and a kind of…appreciation. Watching you, he moves so that he is stepping around and coming to settle himself behind you; also kneeling.

Your long ears flick back; bowing your head so that you can see him in your peripheral. He reaches for you; you expect him to push you down or forward but he pulls you into him so that your back is pressed against his chest. He slides his clawed hand to your neck, tilting your head back against him as he kisses and nips at your skin. His erection is pressed into your back and you can feel it tracing trails of pre-cum against you as he shifts. He wraps his other arm around you; pulling you closer into him as he firmly takes your breast; teasing your nipple into firmness in his fingers.

You can feel a sliding wetness between your legs and know that you are ready. You groan at his teasing and pushing yourself away from him so that you are now bent down; face to the ground rear raised. He follows you down; briefly touching and stroking your tail before positioning it comfortably out of the way from being inadvertently bent or crushed.

He rises himself on his knees and when he enters you; it’s a deep and blissful penetration. He slides himself in slowly; giving you a moment to adjust to his girth. You can feel a seeping of wet touching the inside of one thigh.

He makes a growling purr; deep in his chest.

“You are so…wet.” He groans, pressing his face into your back.

You don’t say anything; you focus on staying as relaxed as you can. He’s not too big but very nearly.

Slowly, he starts to move – back and forth – and your body responds; adjusting.

You are flooded with heat; a heavy sweat breaking out all across your skin. His musk is flooding your senses and you begin to moan pathetically….desperately. Your pheromones are affecting him as well; and he remembers telling you that: he could and would stop for you at any time - but he is praying to each and every of the seven deadly sins that you don’t ask him to.

Your hands make fists in the grass; and you sink down lower.

This angle gives his length more to access and his tip is pressing, pushing and grinding against that oh so sweet spot you’ve got hidden inside. You can fill his shaft stiffening; filling his member curving inside you and it’s about to drive you both over the edge.

He grips your hips; claws digging painful, pleasantly into the skin: as he thrusts himself into you – deeper and deeper; grunting like the rutting animal he is.

Feeling a delicious coiling of tension; you arch yourself into him.

“Ffffffffuck!” He responds to the movement; his hips jerk sharply; jolting one or two more thrusts into you before he comes undone.

You’re already there; chemicals flood your senses as you reach orgasm. You feel his member stiffen; filling you up with its release before it softens again – your walls tightening and releasing all around it. You notice there is more wetness running down your legs now.

Slowly, carefully, he slides himself out. You collapse into the ground, feeling boneless and weightless. You enjoy this feeling; letting it consume you completely knowing you’ll never have a fuck quite like this one ever again.

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel fanfiction #hazbin hotel alastor #alastor #hazbin hotel fandom #hazbin hotel fandom challenge #i hope you like smut #because that is what I brought #this is depravity #i crave it #I'm here for it

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cemeterything · 5 months

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are we still doing this because i have a late submission

#🐉#this is less about fan content and more about that awful lazy one size fits all #'10 years later theyre happily married with a cute little nuclear family' trope #because ive read some genuinely incredible fics about characters who would Not fucking have kids #ending up with accidental pregnancy scares or child acquisitions that get treated with all the nuance #and thoughtful handling they deserve #but also. i reread one of my favourite fics yesterday and when one character jokingly brought up the idea of children #and the other reacted with genuine visceral disgust and said what hideously awful parents theyd be #i lit up like a fucking christmas tree

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astraltrickster · 1 year

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When you say "even in canon this character is acting OOC" do you mean it as in "this character's canon dropped the ball on internal consistency with them" or do you mean "this character I normally relate to made a decision that I wouldn't have made" or do you mean "this character isn't acting like the fanon we developed by rotating them in our heads for 67295 combined hours away from the source material"?

#fandom #this post brought to you by me getting really mad because canon DID drop the ball on a character's internal consistency #BY trying to make them more like the fanon a subset of fans made by rotating the character in their heads for too long #and i know thats what happened because they keep referencing fandom memes #but thats really hard to talk about because...[gestures vaguely]

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wyrmwright · 5 days

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the love you can't even name

#d20 #dimension 20 #fhjy #fantasy high #fantasy high junior year #cassandra #ankarna #fhjy spoilers #im losing my mind over these two...#day and night conviction and doubt #deific yuri tragedy #losing someone and not even being able to speak their name back #the idea that it was cassandra's anger and feelings of unfairness of being in the precarious position she was in is what brought her back #that ankarna was still with her because even the gods cant scrub her name off of cassandras heart #the shards interacting with each other....#this too is yuri #butch ankarna because of course #i love women

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wispscribbles · 5 months

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❄️ Remember to bring blankets for your recon mission ❄️

#ghostsoap #soapghost #ghoap #simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #cod fanart #my art #soap x ghost #ghostsoap fanart #fic fanart #gun tw #call of duty #this drawing has an explanation that I’ll put in a reblog 🫡#me writing ‘dogs of the military’: hahah what if ghost brought knitted blankets?? heheh that’s funny and cute I’m adding that #me now having to learn how to draw a fucking knitted blanket: I will travel back in time and beat yo ass. how dare I do this to me #also drew rifles despite having no experience drawing guns because I hate having fun :)#this drawing was cursed fr #the program crashed FIVE TIMES #and then my computer started acting super funky and my backup stopped working #I had to save my stuff on a flash drive and it took a whole dang day #on the plus side I might post a bunch of old sketches soon since I’m rediscovering them all and there’s a lot

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bluerosefox · 7 months

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Bellatrix Star

A TaliaxDanny idea that came to me.

Damian, Bruce, and the rest of the bats discover the Talia al Ghul they had been fighting against, the one that cloned her own son, had the clone kill him, plant a control device in him when he broke his spine, etc etc was actually not the real Talia al Ghul.

Turned out Ra's had cloned her and killed the original when she discovered his little plans to take over Damain's body and she confronted him about it. Ra's had to make a clone when after tossing a dead Talia into the pits but never returned (he meant to kill her as a warning, as a "you may be my blood but will not hesitate to end you Talia.") It explains so much to Damian when remembers how out of nowhere his mother changed, her training him changed from harsh to deadly, the soft motherly love she would give him when behind closed doors suddenly stopped, the tales she would spin for him about his father no longer whispered to him for bed.

How this was find out?

Well it's hard to ignore the facts that when your foolish grandfather in his quest for immortality summons an eldritch being known as the Ghost King into the Mortal Realm and uses Damian as a sacrifice while his (not) mother watches emotionless.

When the being appeared, plunging the room from green glowing flames and the glow of the Lazarus Pits into darkness before a cosmos exploded to life, its glowing green eyes snapped open in the stars and stared at them all. Making every single one of them feel small, so very small.

It took a single glance around the room before stopping on the al Ghul's. It's eyes widen before a steel and firm look entered them. Just as quick as the cosmos sprang to life, it suddenly swirled away into a ball, putting them all back into the Lazarus room,and reformed in front of them to a more humanish height and body.

When the body, around the height and build of Batman, was done forming it took a step forward and suddenly as one blinked a man stood in front of them. Or rather floated. Snow white hair that flickered and wisped towards a crown made of fire and ice, glowing green eyes that held none of the madness but all of the power the Lazarus Pits could give. His clothing were tailored made that were tastefully a mixture of black and white with some silvers and greens, clothes fit for a King one would say. The cosmos that once engulfed the room had shifted into a cloak that hanged around his body, on one side more than the other (think like how CW wears his only the hood is down).

This, this was no doubt the Ghost King, he stood tall and regal and made everyone in the room feel the need to look down, to bow ones head for even just a moment. Even Ra's had trouble disobeying the urge to do so.

"Well..." the being said, his voice deep but not as gravely as Batman's was "What an interesting way to meet my In-Laws and Step-Son..."

He has said that as he looked towards the al Ghul's. Damian flinched back with a frown of confusion and disbelief while Ra's looked panicked for a second when the words registered into his mind, meanwhile Talia... looked emotionless and barely even twitched.

"What the fu-?" Someone began only to stop when the King lifted his hand and with a snap of his fingers a green portal appeared, it looked almost like the Lazarus Pits but it felt... cleaner? Less angry?

"My Bellatrix, my warrior star. I believe I've been summoned to your home dimension. And judging by the looks of it your father created a barely functioning Mirror of you and planned on using your son as a sacrifice to me." He spoke out towards the portal before holding his hand out.

A hand appeared from the portal, a slender hand and with green and black painted nails manicure to perfection before someone walked through it as they took hold of the Ghost King's offering hand.

Standing in front of them was another Talia, only this one looked a tad older than the one in the room. She wore clothing that matched the King to a T but even then, as always, Talia looked deadly in it. Beautiful but very deadly. From the heels she wore to the crown upon her head, a crown made of not ice and fire but of stars and black jewels. Her eyes were sharp as she stared at everyone in the room, frown on her painted lips, but her eyes lit with a small soft joy when she saw Damian only for them to turn poisonous when they landed on Ra's and the other Talia nearby.

"I should had know you would had created a Mirror of me instead of admitting to my son you killed me Father." Queen Talia spat out. "The least you could had done was not make my Mirror so cheaply, it doesn't even have a proper soul attached to it."

#danny phantom #danny fenton #blue rambles #crossover #writing ideas #random idea #danny phantom dc #dpxdc #dcxdp #i forgot Danny and Talia's ship name #Talia was killed when she confronted her father when she found out his plans to take over her son's body #she was tossed in the pits and was meant to return to life but a portal opened up as she was brought back #she landed in Danny's garden and in a Pit Rage attacked any ghost in sight #Danny was called in noticed the Rage and knocked her out before taking her to Frostbite #they find out she is very liminal #like near halfa levels like she just needs something to kill and bring her back at the same time levels.#Talia raged and wept when she woke up #she was told she was in the Infinite Realms and what the Lazarus Pits actually were and that they were going to try to find her a way home #but because the Infinite Realms were well Infinite it was like looking for a needle in haystack #it takes a while and some talks with Jazz but Talia eventuality begins to try to make the most of her life within the Infinite Realms #and the only world is was always connected to #she does eventually fall for Danny though. things happened and Talia can sense her love for Bruce fizzle out and begin to grow for Danny #who never once asked her to change her deadly and swift ways #Danny was the Ghost King now. he understands that sometimes a quick and hard hand needs to be used.he is a fair and just King not a doormat #Danny accidentally called Talia Bellatrix one day. after the female warrior star in the sky. she is deadly and beautiful to him #Talia liked it a lot and well showed him how much she liked it #eventually they date and get married. Talia is in charge of the spy network for the Kingdom encase of anyone gets any bright ideas #Talia loves her new life. the one without her father or Bruce trying to control or changer her. She wishes for Damian though still.#Danny's been on the look out for her world when she told him everything. He wants to meet and learn about his step-son #he hopes he'll like the 'I'm sorry I married your mother without your permission but I would love your blessing.' gifts he had commissioned

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bolithesenate · 4 months

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i just really love designing togruta montrals

and thinking about how the patterns change as they grow

they are very shapes

#i should be writing exchange fic helppp #anyways some more purshee content because she lives in my mind rent free #ngl i would love to know what having montrals feels like #brought to you by the fact that i have long ass hair and when i put it in a braid thats how i imagine the lekku work #random boli thoughts #my art #art for my fic #togruta #togruta oc

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radiance1 · 9 months

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Alfred Pennyworth has in fact, perhaps, in the slightest of chances.

Picked up his Master's habit of collecting children as if they were on sale.

He was spending his time on one of those rare vacations he decided to take, it was nice, to relax with only the vague overhanging worry of something going wrong back at the manor that he's gotten very good at ignoring.

Only to come across a child bleeding out in an alley, heavily injured.

He would not be able to live with himself if he didn't at least try to help them however he could.

Such is how he acquired a child he later found to be a meta who whished to learn the ways of a butler.

---

Danny had escaped from a GIW compound, after having been handed over by his family a while after his reveal. He felt, completely and utterly betrayed, when it happened. His parents, while hurt, he was at least capable of actually seeing them do it, but never would he have thought Jazz would do so as well.

They did it so happily, that he wondered if letting him go really was the greatest thing to happen to this family.

He chained, muzzled, all the ways to bind him they pulled all the stops too, knowing how dangerous he was. He wouldn't have even done anything then, too stunned by his families apart willingness at handing him over to the government.

He hated them.

He hated them so much.

The GIW facility was a terrible, cold, unfeeling place. One where they drilled thoughts into his head again and again until he found himself unconsciously repeating them when his head felt empty, one where his body gained a new mark day by day and pushed through tests, he had no clue of even hoping to comprehend what they would gain out of it.

It was a cold, unfeeling place. Placed in a cell of white and nothing else, with low walls and chains binding his body in place until the time came for another experiment.

It was a room he grew used to. One he even held some kind of strange, twisted affection for.

It was a room that held a tiny piece of safety, of rest. It was a room that taught him to hate.

A deep, powerful, disgusting, twisting hatred that crawled from the depths of his cells, corrupting his blood and carving itself deep into his bones. Forcing it's out of his pores until it practically oozed from his flesh.

It drowned his mind, tainting each and every thought, every memory, every dream, every waking moment until he could feel nothing but hatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehate.

When he was taken out of that he could feel nothing, with the drugs swimming their way through his blood that snapped the thin string keeping him between a person and an emotionless puppet.

He thinks that's what the GIW thinks he is.

And when he was placed back in that room, he could only hate.

It was a cycle. Stuck between feeling either nothing or hatred.

He hated feeling nothing, it made him feel like he wasn't real. Like it snapped the thread that held him between what a real person was and a dream.

So, he allowed himself to drown deep into his hatred. Until the white walls of his far to small room seemed to fade, until whatever sound he could have heard became nothing but dull noise.

Until the passage of time seemed to become just a blink.

He didn't know what day it was, when he saw it. Saw them. He didn't know the time, the date, the day, the hours. He knew nothing.

But he could recognize his family. Recognize one of the objects of his intense hatred that he forced his thoughts too. The people who willingly gave him up just like that and one of the causes for his current life.

He didn't know why they showed him them, he felt it some sick, utterly cruel joke. A joke he didn't know the punchline for, a joke the universe sent his way to make his life all the more miserable.

There were multiple of them. Multiple clones of his family. Som within test tubes, some being pulled out from the tubes, some walking around in lab coats. A waste of talent, they called it in his dad's case, a waste of intelligence in his mother's, and a waste of intellect in his sister's case.

His original family was already dead, he was told. Replaced by clones, clones that took over the legal decision to change his guardianship. Clones walking around twisting and desecrating his family.

'At least it was painless.' One of the clones said, talking with his mother's face. 'Far more than they deserved for having keeping a thing like him' spoken by his father's imposter.

The drugs pumping through his system to keep him calm, to keep him feeling nothing was suddenly pierced through by an intense feeling of horror, hate and self-loathing.

He should've known it wasn't his family. He should've done more! More to protect them! To keep them safe! The could've still been alive if he just knew.

In that moment, watching imposters speaking, walking, talking, breathing, with his families faces. He exploded. Exploded with a power fueled by nothing but his intense hatred for every. Single. Living being in this goddamn facility.

He killed whoever stood in his way. Managing to get his hands on relatively newly designed weapon, an ectoplasmic scythe (that also apparently could revert into an everyday item). Which he used to rip and tear throughout the entirety of the facility. He got injured, of course, he couldn't dodge everything, but he didn't care.

A body stuck between life and death, incapable of fully going one way or the other no matter what happened. Gifted supernatural powers fueled by wrath and twisting hatred and a weapon made by man yet in the range of the supernatural.

They didn't stand a change. He killed them all. No matter who it was, man, woman, clone. He didn't, couldn't care. He could only kill, only maim, only hurt.

And that's what he did.

It was then, when the facility was blanketed with silence tainted by despair, death and hysteria. When previously white walls were covered by blood, and the halls turned into rivers of blood and corpses. That he broke down, the overwhelming hatred he felt replaced by relief then sadness then self-loathing.

His family didn't give him up! But they were killed. Kill because of him. He couldn't stand being in this place, anymore. His body felt as if it were moving on unseen strings as it walked through the halls, the scythe shrinking back what it was when out of combat, his mind too occupied by thoughts and feelings.

It walked through a portal, one to the ghost zone, and then promptly into another portal and spat him out into an alleyway. Which he then promptly collapsed and curled into a ball, curing the shrunken scythe in his palm and he was out like a light.

A few days after he woke up, he found himself growing attached to the human that found him in that alleyway. An old man, maybe, but a nice one. He didn't want to meet anyone, besides that man, so he turned invisible when anyone else come into contact with him.

Alfred Pennyworth.

It was a name he clung onto mentally and a man he clung onto physically as well. He wanted to be like that man, someone so nice and caring, someone who didn't mind that he turned invisible at the sing of another person, who let him cling onto him both invisible and not whenever he wanted to.

He did panic when he heard Alred saying his vacation was over, and such that he had to leave. He didn't want to be left alone again, he didn't know what he would do if he was left alone again.

Until Afred said we were going home.

We. As in, him plus another. Alfred plus Danny.

Home.

Heat blossomed in his chest, seeming to replace the constant, low hum of hate sitting beneath him skin.

Home.