Legit getting so *fucking* annoyed by this fic and its literally insulting level of mischaracterization of so fucking much bc the writer has time to write 150k+ words of fanfic in a month but apparently no time to so much as glance at a wiki for basic plot and character details, let alone read the damn comics, but now I'm 150k+ words committed and I am still genuinely interested to see how it ends but oh my fucking god would you just stick to hob gadling's jaunt thru the centuries and stop writing the Endless if you're gonna fuck up basic shit this badly and also mischaracterize actually important characters so badly that it is, again, literally fucking insulting to the original story??
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cellbit stuck on a costumer service job post prison and having not great therapy and being like ugh. ugh. trying to 'make it up to people' and get better while not disclosing he's done actual murders because he would not be free if he did.
He roomed with Felps for a bit but then he found this very cheap place to live in and he just got that job and he knew Felps is not taking him changing seriously and was probably still doing bad shit that could get him in trouble. And he does want to keep having the somehow friendly relationship he has with Pac and Mike now, so.
He goes to check it out, and it's cheap it's very small but he's lived in worse places. If he feels there's something off about the residents and if the meat they cook tastes just like human flesh that's surely his own imagination right? if his hot new neighbour Roier sometimes has an odd look on his face or says strange things that's probably Cellbit projecting that he somehow knows about his past and is seeing right through him, RIGHT?
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woke up after a dream of having an older sister that was beautiful and soft and that i looked up to so much feeling so sad and nostalgic for my bedroom at my grandma’s old house in winter when i would come home from school and sit on the bottom bunk in front of the heater and write and write and indulge so heavily in my fantasy worlds that i forgot about everything else until she was done making soup and bread and cobbler which i would then eat from a clay bowl with my favourite red spoon i’d loved since i was a small child that i haven’t used in years and watch the snow fall on the trees and the deer out the window while smelling the soup and the heater and the incense and the browning sugar in the oven and my favourite face lotion i haven’t been able to find in years and daydreaming about having an old sister that was beautiful and soft and would teach me how to be as well
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