Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Hatred weird-ass pixelated foot tapped on the floor in boredom. Hatred was alone in his cacoon heart thing with only the droning of the undodgeable attack of the previous room. Undodgeable unless you have some stupid ghost potion. He HATES that thing. It allowed THEM to come in his fucking vein center and beat him up. He fucking HATES that guy. He HATES their fucking cards. He HATES their praying. He HATES those weird fucking swords.

AND HE HATES HOW BORING HATING HAS BECOME!
Like OH MY FUCKING GOD. HOW IS THIS SO BORING?! IT'S HIS ENTIRE EXISTANCE!!!

He needs to do something else different fast. Or he'll go fucking insane from boredom! Luckily there was a convenient Advertisement for cocaine right behind him.

Hatred stared at for exactly 3 minutes, 57 seconds, and 3 nanoseconds. "... I don't remember putting that there, BUT THAT SEEMS LIKE A GOOD IDEA!"

Immediately he snapped his finger to Manifest some delicious cocaine.

...

There was no cocaine.

His noncanonical parents would be disappointed in him. He can't let that happen! He needs to make Papa Giygas proud!

Trying Again, he got on his knees and started PRAYING!!! For cocaine!!!!! Like a normal person!!!!!!!

[Hatred's calls were absorbed by the darkness.]

"..."

"I genuinely forgot that happens here. Oh well!" he shrugs, "Time to pull out my emergency cocaine!" he announces to no one while grabbing a bag of the good white stuff from his hammerspace and spilling it all out over the table.

"Anyway, three minutes in heaven coming in 3, 2, 1... GO!"

Then he violently smashes his head multiple times on that table and then violently rolls his head around on it like a dough roller over dough. Meanwhile violently sniffing it all in.

While hatred is doing his business Greeds walks in from a non-existent door. "Hey, Hatred have you seen my pile of TIX- WHAT ON BUILDERMAN'S NAME ARE YOU DOING?!?!"

Hatred looks up from his sniffing session, his face a spooky wooky sight. His entire turned white with cocaine like the Toby fox shower foam picture.

"GREED SHUT THE FUCK UP, I'M DOING COCAINE!!!!!" Hatred yelled so loud that even Bizville could hear it. Impressive.

Greed, understandably traumatized by Hatred looking like Toby Fox foam shower.png but with cocaine, runs away. First running into the nonexistent wall before finding the nonexistent door and dashing away.

That left hatred alone in the room again.

"Well, now I get more cocaine, yay!" he cheers before smashing his head through the table.

To be!
Continued!!!!!!

Chapter Text

Yet again. Hatred had the displeasure of greeting boredom again. Screaming at random children and the other inhabitants of the dream world isn't as fun as it used to be. Even hating on those F'ellas isn't curing his boredom, and his hatred for those things is unmeasurable.

Either way, he was sitting at the duck pond now. Not that he will stay like that for long. Hating may be getting boring, but you know what isn't?

DRUGS!!!

and boy oh boy! What did he fill this entire fucking pond with? That's right!!! KETAMINE!!!!!

HE DRAINED THE ENTIRE POND AND FILLED IT WITH KETAMINE. let me tell you! It was quite a hassle with that eye pouring water back in it.

he goes into the diving board he installed for this exact occasion and dives into the drugs like Scrooge McDuck in his money. He consumed the Ketamine aesthetically while he swam. Did you want some? Too bad. He ated it all.

Then there he stood, at the bottom of the drained pond, conked out of his mind, before falling to the ground because he knows how to aesthetic. The water of the pond has been slowly returning because of that weird crying eye thingamabob in the sky. He didn't notice the ketamine getting soggy.

About half an hour later Greeds walk by the pond, on his way to solitude. "I wonder where my TIX pile is.- WAIT IS THAT HATRED?!" He yelled out as hatred was floating on the water's surface of the filled pond, looking like he drowned. Greedy screams bloody murder because he's traumatized even more now and runs away, bawling, to solitude to tell the unfortunately news.

To be!
Continued!!!!

Chapter Text

Hatred was walking through Inferno, soggy and wet because he just woke up in the middle of the duck pond. Grumbling things under his breath as he tried to be as hate-filled as possible. But he only becomes fucking bored. 

"WHY IS BEING HATEFUL ALL DAY SO BORING NOW????" He asked god. His calls were absorbed by the darkness. He hates it when that happens.

He stomped his pixelated legs on the ground as apparitions passed by him. 'Mindless things they are. Stumbling dumbly around when they aren't here. Does it even have a mind? Or is being a manifestation of negative emotion all there is to it? Their lives don't really have meaning. Hell, it would be better if they didn't exist. It would be better if this entire section of the mind didn't exist. If I didn't...'

Wondering about his hengemen does not cure his boredom. Sad, maybe he could've become a scholar if creating hypotheses kept the boredom away. But wait, he's an emotion. He couldn't do that even if he wanted to.

What could he do? 

Drug again maybe?

Yeah! Drugs! Weed!

He quickly got out his entire stash of weed before rolling it all up in a blunt. Lighting it up with a nearby fire, he enjoyed the everloving fuck out of it.

Then of course that S W E A R W O R D greed had to come by again. The ugly yellow fuck was fucking crying. Hatred does not know why the fuck the stickman is crying, nor does he care. He hates this guy. And why the fuck is he in funeral clothes?! Greed stared at him for a couple of seconds, shaking.

"Y-you're alive?" Greed asked, voice uneven. What the hell is wrong with him?

Hatred scoffs, "Yeah, I am. Idiot." Why is that fuck being so weird?

Suddenly long yellow arms wrapped around hatred multiple times in a cartoony hug. "I THOUGHT YOU WERE DEATH!!!!" Greedy cried.

"Huh?" Hatred dumbly responded. What the hell's this about? Is he supposed to do something? He's a manifestation of hate, he doesn't know how to deal with this!

"WE THOUGHT YOU DROWNED IN THE POND!!!" Greed yelled, releasing his hug to give hatred a light smack. "Please never do that again!" His voice became more quiet, sincere. He begged.

Greed... cares about him?...

But why? Hasn't he only been a menace to be around? Why does he care?

... The fuck must be stupid.

Hatred stared at Greed. His gaze was unfocused. The world looks so weird. Greed's green? Why does he look so weird '... Ayo, Is that a pink elephant behind him.' 

Greed looks behind him, but he sees nothing. Greed turns back to Hatred while looking genuinely confused at Hatred. Did hatred say that aloud? Whoops.

He tries to take a step forward but stumbles. Wowza! The weed's really kicking in now! A bit too much.

He feels a bit dizzy.

"Don't wooorryy I'm fiii-" Hatred is interrupted by fucking fainting.

"I DIDN'T HIT YOU THAT HARD, DID I???" Greed panics. Hands hovering over as he looked over Hatred.

This one's going into the trauma compilation.

Chapter Text

When hatred wakes back up, he's somehow wrapped up in multiple soft blankets and in his Vein center. He's thoroughly confused about how he got here. He hates that he can't remember. He doesn't remember walking through purgatory. His memory only goes upwards to Inferno, where he meets up with Greed.

Greed had cried... About him.

It's a fact that his mind doesn't want to accept. He doesn't understand. He's supposed to be Hatred incarnate, the big bad. Why would someone want to care about him?

He shakes his head. Either way, Greed was probably the one who took him here. 

Wait, how the fuck even. A version of his Instakill attack is constantly running outside of this room. How did he get in? Yeah, sure, it's weakened, but it's still undodgeable. There's no way Greed would've managed to get through that. But he must've, right?

Unless...

When Greed enters the room, he never is where the entrance of the room is. It's pretty hard to notice with how featureless his room is. But there's always the sound of a door when Greed comes in. 

His room doesn't have doors.

...

...

...?!

Does that Greedy fuck have a shortcut to his room he doesn't know about? 

Hatred growls. Greatly displeased. But he takes a breath. He'll get to Greed about that later. He's quite in the mood to Hate right now. It's lowkey kinda boring right now.

No, actually, it's highkey kinda boring.

Hatred pulled on his horns as he growled more. "What could I do?"

Then like an angel descending from the heavens, a light shined on the decreped computer in the faraway corner. Hatred blinked at the computer "Convenient."

Don't question how he blinked, it's an idiom here. He did not grow an eye to wink at the computer.

He skipped towards the pc. It looked like it experienced thirteen different world wars. Hitting the power on button, Hatred needed to only wait 5 minutes before reaching the login screen of his pc. Then it had to perform 64 updates. Estimated time: 2 hours.

If this pc isn't thrown out of the nonexistent window within the next sixty seconds, Hatred's going to be surprised by his self-control.

Eventually, he managed to open up the bootleg Google Chrome– this pc reaches levels of Crappy that Hatred had not thought possible before.

He typed in: "How to cur my boerdom"

And so Hatred began scrolling,

"Read a book? Never. Drawing? Only weird people that-" what's this? a pebble fell from the nonexistent ceiling at a velocity of exactly 19 kilometers per hour and hits Hatred square in the head, how strange. "ouch?" He rubbed the back of his head, "Where the fuck did that come from?" Hatred looked for anyone who would've thrown that, but there was no one. Strange.

He looks back to his computer or rather the Wikihow. "Coloring sounds boring. Making a list? Sounds boring. Writing? Sounds the boringest-" another pebble hit Hatred with violent intent, "- ALRIGHT WHO THE FUCK is THROWING STONES?!?!" He yelled into the nothingness, naturally nothing answered. 

Weird how his space flip-flops between room and undefined space. The consequence of having the walls, floor, and ceiling be pure black except for the veins in the center... And the pc in the corner now... And that broken table, and that cocaine advertisement... He forgot those were there, to be honest.

Anyway, he continued onwards to find a cure for his boredom. Making gifts? Nah, he's not 🎅. Hang out with friends? Ha! What a joke. He doesn't have friends. Wait, no! that sounds pathetic, erm, HE DOESN'T NEED THEM! Yes! That'll convince himself! Start a garden? Nothing can grow here. Hot single Apparitions in your area? Click here to get... by... "What the actual fuck." Hatred squinted at the screen in disgust. Shaking his head and forcibly forgetting that this happened, and thus he scrolled further. And further. And further–

After mindlessly scrolling further, he got a pop-up for the high-breaking kit™. Short-term solutions to his problems? HIS FAVORITE. He clicks on it.

So he'll need... 50 cigarettes, 5 cans of beer, and a foot of cocaine.

Where can he get the cigarettes and beer? He'll use the cocaine from on the broken table because, um, recycling? Yes! Recycling! He definitely cares about the fictional environment he's in!  It's definitely not because he has absolutely no clue where to get more, No sirie!

"But where can I get the Ciga-OH MY GOD" Hatred jumps 3 feet in the air as a fridge suddenly pops up behind him. "Convenient, but. Uh, hah..." Hatred catches his breath, to recuperate after that jumpscare. What the fuck is this? Five nights at Hatred's? Why the fuck does furniture keep randomly showing up? 

He opens up the fridge and within are 50 cigarettes and 5 cans of beer.

Hatred's nonexistant eyes narrowed "Devine intervention, is that you?"

He grabs them and begins the kit.

Only one problem. "How do I use cigarettes?", he inspects the small object "Maybe like this?" 

He opens up his circular maw, and pops the cigarette into it and begins chewing.

It. Tastes. AWFUL!

He quickly spits it back out. "Nope! Nope! Nope! That's not how!"

He inspects the cigarette more thoroughly this time. "How do I use you?" He wonders out loud. Luckily, the sounds of his computer desperately trying to keep working even if it's for naught caught his attention.

Oh yeah, he has access to the interwebs.

Ten minutes and twenty viruses later, he learned it!

Just put it in his mouth and light it on fire, easy! He just needs fire-

The computer burst into flames.

Hatred stares at the remains of his personal computer, utterly speechless, "... More devine intervention... Huh."

So after that he puts all 50 of 'em on fire and then in his mouth. Thank god for his large maw, otherwise, he would not be able to fit them all in!

His throat kinda feels smokey, but that's to be expected from inhaling smoke. 

Swiftly a buzz of pleasure slowly builds up at the back of his mind.

"Fuck yeah!" His voice is muffled due to having an absurd amount of cigarettes in his mouth. "This is what I lives for!"

Onto the next part. Beer. Well, he can't use the computer, since it's, y'know, on fire, but the webpage is burned into the screen. So the tutorial is there! he'll need to drink the beer... While smoking.

Huh, no time like the present though. He dumps the cans of beer into his mouth, pushing it through the barrier of cigarette, and begins chewing on it.

Not gonna lie. Beer's kinda overrated, tastes like cigarettes.

Now last but not least the cocaïne...?

The broken table with cocaine is on fire.

Fuck, he no longer has cocaine.

Maybe take this as a sign he should stop? This is Frankly a lot of effort for something that hasn't been giving him much result.

The thing he put in his mouth isn't nearly giving him that high he needs.

He spit the concoction of the half-used kit into the previous room, where it was destroyed in a matter of seconds. That's the real reason that attack is constantly running outside. It's his personal trash disposal.

But what now? 

Maybe he'll go to Solitude? Doesn't he have like, the good shit? The really good shit? The super super goodest shit? 

But he's doing that later. He has done enough shit for now. This has been 1100+ words by this point! Wait- he isn't supposed to break the fourth wall. Oops.

...

"Fuck it, I need those drugs now." And so he begins the admittedly small trek to Solitude's place anyway. Erm, he forgot the name of it. Ehe!