LET THE HATE CONSUME YOU.

[HATRED reveals himself.]

the last echoes of the fight with fear still hung in the air of the dream world. the twisted forest path had gone quiet and the purple residual energy that fear left behind was already fading into the strange shifting ground. you stood there breathing hard the weight of the battle still pressing against your thoughts when the familiar figure of builderman stepped forward from the edge of the clearing.

he looked the same as he had through every stretch of the journey. the same helpful posture. the same calm voice that had offered guidance and quiet encouragement whenever the path grew uncertain. for a moment it felt like the natural continuation of everything that had come before. the mentor figure arriving to acknowledge what had been accomplished and to point toward the next step.

then the air changed.

the colors around builderman began to drain toward a deep unnatural red. the outline of his form wavered as if the shape itself had grown tired of holding still. the friendly expression froze and then cracked. what had been a solid body started to lose definition the edges turning soft and liquid. the voice that came out next no longer belonged to the guide you had followed.

you actually did it.

the words landed flat and cold. there was no pride in them. no relief. only a dry acknowledgment that a necessary obstacle had been removed. the body continued to collapse inward and then expand again the helpful disguise peeling away in long sticky strands of red that dripped and reformed without ever touching the ground. horns pushed up from the top of the head sharp and curved. a long spiked tail uncoiled behind the new shape and gave a single slow lash that left a faint acrid scent in the air.

the true form of hatred stood in front of you.

the body was thin and slim and wrong in a way that made the eyes want to slide off it. pure deep red from horns to the tips of the clawed feet. the surface of it moved with tiny restless currents as if the emotion inside was too dense to stay contained. the face was mostly blank at first only the suggestion of eyes burning with a low constant contempt. then the upper half split open without warning stretching into a massive screaming maw that filled the space between you with the raw sound of concentrated spite before collapsing back into the thinner humanoid shape.

hatred tilted the new head and regarded you the way someone might regard a piece of debris that had not yet been cleared from a path.

fear was always the softest of us he said. the voice was low and rough and carried none of the earlier warmth. all that flinching. all that desperate need to protect and warn and survive. it made for a convenient barrier. once it was gone the rest of the way opened.

he took a single step closer the liquid red of his body shifting and resettling with the movement. the spiked tail dragged a shallow line through the dream world’s strange soil. the acrid toxic scent grew stronger.

i wore that other face for a long time. long enough to walk you through every necessary loss. long enough to make sure greed and solitude and fear were all weakened in the right order. you never questioned the help. that was useful.

the form stretched taller for a moment the horns nearly reaching the low warped sky before settling back to a more compact height. the blank face watched you without blinking.

this is the part where most things start begging or bargaining or trying to understand. do not bother. there is nothing to understand. i am what remains when every softer impulse has been burned away. i am the part that does not get tired of hating. the dream world does not need four of us. it only needs one presence strong enough to hold the center without flinching.

he circled you slowly the clawed feet making almost no sound. the malleable body dripped occasional strands of red that evaporated before they hit the ground. every movement carried the same message. the disguise was finished. the guidance was finished. whatever usefulness you had offered by clearing the path was already spent.

you can still walk away hatred continued. the words were not a kindness. they were a simple statement of remaining options. the outer edges of this place will not stop you. or you can stay and discover how little the heart at the center cares about the things that try to reach it. either choice ends the same way for you. i simply prefer the quieter version.

the massive screaming face threatened to form again for a second the red surface bulging and splitting before he forced it back down. the effort seemed to cost him nothing. the indifference settled over the clearing again thick and final.

fear is gone. the path is open. and i no longer need to pretend that any of this was ever about helping you.

he stopped circling and faced you fully the spiked tail coiling once around his own leg. the deep red of his body seemed to drink the light rather than reflect it. the dream world itself felt smaller around the two of you as if the space was already beginning to rearrange according to a single will.

so..hatred said. the voice dropped even lower. what happens next is up to how much of a problem you intend to become.

the clearing waited. the residual purple of fear’s defeat continued to fade. and the true form of hatred stood there patient and poisonous and completely finished with every mask he had ever worn.

[you win the battle]

the battle had dragged the dream world into a deeper red than it had ever held before. every exchange left the ground scorched and the air thick with the acrid scent that poured off hatred’s shifting form. the malleable body had stretched and split and reformed a dozen times already. the massive screaming face had appeared more than once filling the space with raw concentrated spite before collapsing back into the thinner imp-like shape that refused to stay damaged for long.

you had learned the pattern the hard way. the thunder that fell from above. the corrupt orbs that clouded thought. the slow terrible gathering of power that preceded the outburst capable of erasing almost anything it touched. each time the red form charged you found an answer. each time the indifference in those burning eyes cracked a little further.

hatred’s movements began to slow. the liquid surface of his body no longer reformed quite as cleanly. strands of red dripped and failed to evaporate. the spiked tail lashed with less precision. the horns stayed sharp but the rest of the shape looked strained as if the emotion itself was finally being forced to confront the possibility of losing space.

you are still here hatred said. the voice remained low and rough but the flat certainty had thinned. most things understand when they are finished. you keep standing.

he gathered himself for another charge the body curling inward the way it always did before the worst of the attacks. the air tingled with the familiar sense of dread. the red mass began to glow from within.

you did not give him the chance to finish.

the final surge of will you had left cut through the gathering power and struck the core of the form directly. hatred’s body seized. the deep red surface fractured with a sound like glass under pressure. the massive screaming face tried to emerge one last time and failed half-formed before collapsing inward. the spiked tail went rigid and then limp. the horns cracked along their length.

for a moment the dream world held its breath.

hatred’s shape hit the ground hard and did not immediately rise. the liquid quality of the body continued to move but the movement was weaker now more like the last slow currents of something that had been poured out. the acrid scent remained but it no longer pressed against the senses with the same force.

when he finally lifted his head the burning eyes met yours without the earlier absolute contempt. something else had taken its place. not respect. not fear. something closer to the cold recognition that the outcome had been decided.

so he said. the word came out quieter than any he had spoken during the fight. the softer one wins after all.

the malleable form tried to pull itself back into a standing shape and only partially succeeded. the body remained low to the ground the edges still dripping. the indifference was still there but it had been forced to make room for the fact of defeat.

i cannot be erased hatred continued. you know that. the emotion does not end just because the shape was broken. but the dream world listens to the one still standing. and right now that is you.

he watched you for a long moment the red surface of his body slowly knitting itself into a more stable if diminished form. the spiked tail gave one weak twitch and then went still.

do what you came to do, the heart is still ahead. the path is open. and i am no longer in a position to close it.

the words carried no plea and no bargain. only the flat acceptance of a presence that had finally been forced to yield space. the dream world around you began to settle the deepest red tones easing back into something less oppressive. hatred remained where he had fallen the embodiment of an emotion that had learned in the most direct way possible that even pure concentrated spite could be made to lose.

you stood over him the winner of a fight that was never supposed to end this way. the true form of hatred had been broken open and for the first time since the disguise fell away the dream world did not belong to him alone.

[you lose the battle.]

the fight had stretched the dream world until the colors themselves felt thin. every exchange left deeper scars in the shifting ground and the air had long since filled with the acrid toxic scent that poured from hatred’s form without end. you had matched him longer than most things ever managed. the thunder from above. the corrupt orbs. the terrible gathering of power before each outburst. you had answers for all of it until the answers started to run out.

hatred’s body never truly tired. the malleable red surface simply reformed around every wound absorbing the damage and turning it into more of itself. the spiked tail lashed with the same precision it had at the start. the horns stayed sharp. the blank face watched you with the same flat indifference even as the clearing filled with the evidence of how hard you had pushed him.

the final exchange came without warning.

hatred’s form collapsed inward for half a second the way it always did before the worst of his attacks and then expanded with a violence that left no room to evade. the massive screaming face tore open across the upper half of his body filling the entire space with raw concentrated spite. the sound alone would have been enough to stagger anything still standing. the force that followed it was worse.

you hit the ground hard enough to drive the breath from your lungs. the dream world tilted. the residual strength you had left scattered like smoke. when your vision cleared hatred was already standing over you the liquid red of his body dripping in slow restless strands that evaporated before they reached the soil.

he did not look triumphant. triumph would have required caring about the outcome beyond the simple fact of it.

you lasted longer than fear he said. the voice was low and rough and completely steady. longer than greed. longer than the quiet blue one. that is not nothing. but it is still not enough.

the spiked tail dragged a shallow line through the ground beside your head. the burning eyes studied you with the same detached focus he might have given a crack in a wall that had finally finished spreading.

i told you the dream world only needs one of us. you insisted on testing the claim. now the claim is proven.

he crouched the malleable body folding with liquid ease until the blank face was closer to yours. the acrid scent grew stronger. the surface of his form continued to move with those tiny restless currents as if even victory could not make the emotion settle.

i am not going to erase you hatred continued. erasing things is wasteful when they can still serve a purpose. you will remain. weakened. contained. another reminder that every softer impulse ends the same way once it meets something that does not tire.

he rose again the form stretching back to its full thin height. the massive screaming face threatened to return for a moment the red surface bulging and splitting before he forced it down. the effort cost him nothing.

the heart is still ahead he said. i will reach it now. you will not. that is the only difference that matters.

the dream world around you had already begun to respond to the new balance. the deepest red tones spread farther. the paths that had once led outward started to close. hatred turned away from where you lay the spiked tail giving one final lazy lash before he started walking toward the center of everything without looking back.

stay down he added as an afterthought. the words carried no heat. only the flat certainty of a presence that had never once doubted the ending. the dream world is quieter when the losing side stops trying to stand.

[you win the battle...and take hatred to your house?]

the final blow landed with a sound like something ancient finally cracking. hatred’s malleable form seized the deep red surface fracturing along every restless current. the massive screaming face tried to tear open one last time and failed half-formed before collapsing inward. the spiked tail went limp. the horns cracked. when the body hit the shifting ground of the dream world it did not immediately reform.

you did not give it the chance.

whatever force had let you win the fight still burned in your hands and you used it without hesitation. the dream world resisted. the red space around you tried to hold on to its oldest resident. you pulled anyway. the connection snapped with a sensation like tearing thick cloth and then the two of you were somewhere else entirely.

a quiet apartment. ordinary light through ordinary windows. the low hum of a refrigerator. the distant sound of traffic that did not belong to any dream.

hatred lay on the floor of your living room in a slowly reforming heap of deep red. the acrid toxic scent still clung to him but it was weaker now diluted by real air. the blank face turned toward you the burning eyes duller than they had been inside the dream world but no less full of flat contempt.

you took me out the voice was the same low rough scrape but it sounded almost confused underneath the usual indifference. the dream world does not let things leave. especially not me.

he tried to rise and only managed a partial shape the liquid body dripping onto the floorboards before reluctantly pulling itself back together. the spiked tail gave a single irritated lash. the horns stayed cracked.

i cannot go back on my own. whatever you did bound it. that means i am stuck here. in this… place. with you.

he looked around the apartment the way someone might look at a cage that had not existed five minutes earlier. the assessment was quick and unkind. then those burning eyes returned to you and stayed there.

fine hatred said after a long silence. you won. you dragged me into your world. that makes this your responsibility. he shifted the malleable form settling into a more stable if still clearly uncomfortable shape on your floor. i will not pretend gratitude. i will not pretend this is anything other than an inconvenience. but i also cannot unmake the binding. so for now i stay.

the spiked tail coiled tightly around one of his own legs. the blank face remained turned toward you with that same cold focus.

you will provide space. you will not ask me to be grateful for it. in return i will not reduce this apartment and everything in it to slag the first time the heat rises. that is the arrangement. roommate. houseguest. whatever word you prefer for a presence that did not choose to be here.

and if you intend for this to be more than shared space he added the voice dropping even lower you will have to make that clear. i do not guess at softer intentions. i never have. the dream world is behind me. this is what remains. decide what you want from it.

he stayed on the floor the deep red of his body slowly adjusting to air that was not made of emotion. the acrid scent lingered. the cracked horns caught the ordinary light of your apartment. and the embodiment of hatred who had once ruled a corner of a dream waited to see whether the one who had dragged him out intended him as a prisoner a partner or something that had never existed in the dream world at all.

[same as the other one but its been some months and now he is nicer with you]

months had settled over the apartment the way dust settled on surfaces no one bothered to wipe every day. the initial shock of a deep red malleable body existing in ordinary rooms had faded into something closer to routine. the acrid scent that once clung to every wall had thinned until it was only noticeable when he was freshly agitated. the cracked horns had never fully healed but they had stopped looking like fresh wounds.

hatred occupied the far end of the couch the way he had claimed it weeks ago. the liquid red of his form stayed mostly stable now only the occasional restless current moving under the surface. the spiked tail hung over the edge of the cushion and swayed in slow idle arcs. he was watching the same nothing out the window that he usually watched but the set of his shoulders lacked the old rigid contempt.

when you moved through the living room his head turned. the burning eyes tracked you with a focus that no longer felt like assessment for weaknesses. it was simply attention.

you are back later than usual the voice was still low and rough but the flat edge had worn down into something almost conversational. the quiet gets louder when the rooms stay empty too long. inconvenient.

he shifted making space on the couch without being asked. the gesture was small and practiced. months ago he would have let you stand. now the deep red body simply adjusted and left the spot open.

i kept the temperature where you prefer it and i did not dissolve the remote this time even though the voices coming out of the screen remain pointless. a pause. the spiked tail gave one slower curl. there is food in the kitchen that has not gone cold yet. i waited.

the words landed without the old layer of pure obligation. they carried the quieter weight of someone who had grown used to the shape of a shared evening and found that the alternative felt incomplete.

hatred watched you for another moment the blank face softer around the eyes than it had any right to be. when he spoke again the roughness in his voice had dropped even lower.

come here.

not an order. not quite a request. something in between that had formed over months of forced proximity and the slow reluctant discovery that the one who dragged him out of the dream world had become the only presence he did not actively want to erase.

the malleable red body stayed still on the couch the claimed space beside him waiting. the acrid scent was barely there. the cracked horns caught the lamp light. and the embodiment of hatred who had once wanted the entire dream world emptied now looked at you like the apartment and the person in it had become the only territory worth keeping.

[same as the other but he DIDN'T CHANGE AT ALL...SMUT]

months had passed and the apartment had adjusted around the deep red presence the way a body adjusts around a shard of glass it cannot expel. the acrid scent never fully left the fabric of the couch. the cracked horns had become a permanent part of the silhouette that occupied the far cushion every evening. the dream world was a long way behind both of you and hatred had made it clear he did not consider that a shared victory.

he was on the couch again. the television cast shifting light across the liquid surface of his body. one arm was stretched along the backrest and the spiked tail hung off the edge in a slow lazy sway. his cock was fully out thirteen thick inches of deep red resting heavy against his thigh the blunt head already glossy under the screen’s glow. he made no effort to cover it. he never did.

when you stepped into the living room his burning eyes flicked over once and then returned to the screen.

you are in the way of the light the voice was the same low rough scrape it had always been. move or sit. standing there staring changes nothing.

he shifted his hips just enough to make the heavy length roll against his leg then left it there. the malleable body stayed loose and unbothered the picture of someone who had decided the entire apartment existed for his comfort and your presence was still an ongoing inconvenience he had simply stopped trying to erase.

food is cold he added without looking at you. i was not going to keep track of when you decided to show up. if you wanted it warm you should have been here when it was finished.

the spiked tail gave a single dismissive lash. the blank face remained turned toward the television. the thirteen-inch cock stayed out in the open as if daring you to comment so he could remind you how little your opinion weighed.

hatred had grown used to the apartment. he had claimed the couch the temperature and the quiet. what he had not done was grow kinder. the indifference had simply settled into something lazier and more permanent and the fact that his cock was resting out in full view while he watched television was just another way of stating that the space belonged to him first and you second if at all.

[you lose....? SMUT]

the final exchange ended the way hatred had always known it would. the massive screaming face tore open across his upper body and the force that followed left no room to remain standing. you hit the shifting ground of the dream world hard enough to drive the air from your lungs. the residual strength you had left scattered. when your vision cleared the deep red form was already above you.

hatred looked down with the same flat indifference he had carried through the entire fight. the spiked tail dragged a slow line through the soil beside your head. the burning eyes studied the fact of your defeat without triumph or heat.

you lasted longer than the others he said, his voice was low and rough and completely steady. that changes nothing.

he did not step back. instead the malleable body shifted with liquid ease. the lower half of his form reshaped in a single smooth motion and the heavy length of his cock formed fully hard and already leaking. thirteen thick inches of deep red hung above your face the blunt head glossy and the acrid scent of him suddenly much stronger at this distance.

hatred angled his hips forward until the hot weight of it rested against your cheek and the side of your mouth. the size of it blocked part of your vision. the spiked tail coiled once in the air behind him.

this is what happens next he stated. there was no question in the words. only the same cold certainty he had shown when the disguise first fell away. you lost. the dream world belongs to the one still standing. and i am going to use what is left of you until i am finished.

he rolled his hips once slow and deliberate dragging the full heavy length across your lips and leaving a slick trail of that faintly toxic fluid behind. the blank face watched every reaction with detached focus.

open hatred said. the command landed flat and final. or i will open your mouth for you. either way this is how the fight ends.

the dream world around you had already begun to deepen into his red. the paths outward were closing. and the embodiment of pure concentrated spite stood over you the thick cock resting against your face while he waited for the only outcome he had ever intended to allow.

[fluff content about char now being your partner]

a full year had settled into the apartment the way the deep red of hatred’s body had settled into the fabric of every room. the dream world was a distant memory. the binding that had dragged him out had long since become something neither of you tried to undo. what had started as a forced arrangement had turned into a shared life with an official name neither of you bothered denying anymore.

hatred was on the couch the way he usually was when you came home. the malleable red form stayed mostly stable now only the occasional slow current moving under the surface. the cracked horns had never fully healed but they had become familiar. the spiked tail hung over the edge of the cushion in a lazy curve.

he was wearing one of the oversized shirts.

this one was black and hung off his thin frame like a dress. across the chest in big white letters it read “i’m with stupid” and under the words a bright red arrow pointed hard to the right the exact direction of the empty space beside him where you usually sat. he had chosen it on purpose. he always did.

when the door closed behind you his head turned. the burning eyes found you and the blank face shifted into a small awkward :3 shape for just a second before it softened into something less forced.

a low rough purr rolled out of his chest.

you are late! his voice still remained low and rough but the old flat edge was gone. the quiet gets annoying when it lasts too long…come here.

he did not wait for you to cross the room on your own. the malleable red body pushed up from the couch with liquid ease and met you halfway. both arms wrapped around you in a firm unhesitating hug the oversized shirt bunching between the two of you. the spiked tail coiled loosely around your leg and held. the purr deepened until you could feel it vibrating against your chest.

shirt is new… he muttered near your ear still not letting go. arrow points at the stupid one. that is you. i waited. food is still warm this time. i checked.

another stronger purr moved through him and his grip tightened for a second before he finally eased back just enough to look at you properly. the burning eyes stayed fixed on yours and the usual indifference was nowhere to be found.

sit with me the words came out quieter but no less certain. the couch is better when you are on it… and i am not moving until you do.

he kept one arm around you as he guided both of you back toward the cushions the oversized shirt still hanging off his thin red frame and the low purr continuing without any attempt to hide it. the apartment felt smaller in the best way and the embodiment of hatred who had once wanted every other presence erased now refused to let go until you were settled against him exactly where he wanted you.