I Cant Believe Theyre Back

Spiderbit week day 4: 🌺 Cooking/food or Murder Husbands 🌺

It's the Murder Husbands AND THEY'RE COMING FOR YOU 🔪🔪

Take a slice

just two leaders of their bands promoting starbobby :)

The cover of my final project. I made it Ordem Paranomal.

It was a fanzine, so Ordem Paranormal Fanzine!

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i can't do those ship ask games anymore literally all i care about rn is spiderbit

Ordem paranomal thing i did for a class because the hiperfixation wins

Day Seven - Soulmates

-

Soulmates, as everyone knows, share each other's pain. Bruises, scrapes, broken bones. Fevers, infections. Anything, everything. Nothing physical is left behind, just. Pain.

Roier kinda thinks it's all bullshit. There's all sorts of philosophy attached to it, like the idea that sharing pain is supposed to bring you and your soulmate together, but that idea doesn't really matter when you don't even know who your soulmate is. It's just pain for the sake of pain, and it's absolutely ridiculous, and he kinda hates it.

...But maybe Roier is biased, just a little. His soulmate, whoever they are, is either the most accident-prone person on the planet, or they've been a soldier since Roier was still in middle school. After years and years of constant aches and pains and bruises and fucking stab wounds right through the stomach and gunshots fired through the shoulder and the throat, Roier's tired.

Roier doesn't hate his soulmate. He probably loves them, actually; he started working out in middle school just so he could grow up into a strong enough man to be able to protect his soulmate the way they deserved. He just also thinks it's kind of bullshit that he and his soulmate have to share this much without not knowing who each other is.

"It's just kind of ridiculous, you know?" he asks.

"I guess," Cellbit hesitantly agrees.

Cellbit, unlike Roier, seems pretty into the whole soulmate thing. He doesn't think he has one, but he likes the idea of people being able to find someone special just for them that they can love and who will love them back. Sharing pain, to Cellbit, is the same as sharing a warm cup of coffee on a cold winter's morning: it's just something that people who love each other do.

Roier sighs, but he doesn't say anything else, mostly because he's decided he kinda likes Cellbit and he doesn't want to lose him before he can work up the nerve to ask him over for, like. Dinner. Or sex.

Tonight, they're side-by-side in sleeping bags on the deck of their newly-claimed Base Guapita. The kids are asleep inside, and Cellbit's hands are rough and red from an afternoon spent putting up the communications tower. He's half asleep, but Roier is wide awake and staring at the stars and trying to connect them into something meaningful.

Cellbit is... nice. He's nice. Him and Roier got off on the wrong foot, and he kinda super needs to shower more often, but he's sweet, and he has a cute smile when he deigns to show it. His eyes are breathtaking. His hands are big. His arms are covered in too many scars to count, and so is what little of his chest and neck he shows beneath his button-up and vest.

(Roier remembers waking up screaming a week or so ago and immediately checking his arms to make sure he wasn't the one getting fucking shredded with- with something. Bobby ran downstairs to check on him, and he got to the bottom floor just in time to watch Roier pass out as his soulmate died and had to respawn.

The day after that, Roier idly watched as Cellbit and Felps argued in the corner of his garden. He couldn't catch much of what they were saying, but the scars on Cellbit's arms were new, maybe.

Maybe...)

In the end, it's Cellbit who continues the conversation:

"If I do have a soulmate," he murmurs, voice slurred from exhaustion and muffled slightly by his pillow, "I kind of feel bad for them."

"Mm?"

Absently, Cellbit rolls onto his back, his arms falling on top of the sleeping bag's outer layer. One hand brushes along the largest of the opposite arm's scars.

Ah.

"Nah, it's probably fine," Roier says. He adjusts himself so that he's laying on his side facing Cellbit with his hand propping his head up. "Aren't you the guy who thinks sharing pain is romantic and stuff?"

"It isn't romantic," Cellbit scoffs. "It's pain. Nobody should have to go through it."

"Or maybe nobody should have to go through it alone. Isn't that what all this soulmate shit is about?"

Cellbit glances at him out of the corner of his eye. "I thought you didn't believe in soulmates."

"What?" Roier gasps, dramatically offended. "No! Of course I do! I just don't get all that philosophical stuff. Like, what's the point of sharing pain if you don't know who you're sharing with, you know?"

"Because it's what people who love each other do."

Roier snaps with a grin. "There you go! You and your soulmate love each other, so you want to share each other's pain. Right?"

Cellbit hums, "Or maybe he just wants to stop it."

Oh. "'He'? Do you-"

Cellbit cuts him off with a shake of the head: "No, I don't. I just know he would be a he. I'm not, ah..."

Oh, shit.

Roier knows Cellbit well enough by now to know when he doesn't want to elaborate on something, so he offers a cheerful, "Cool!", before going quiet again.

Then:

"I hope you find him, man," Roier says. He sits up and pats Cellbit on the shoulder with a smaller, more genuine smile. "I know he's out there."

Cellbit watches him warily. "I'm not even sure if he exists."

"Nah, he does. And I'd better get to be your best man, okay? If not, I'm stealing your husband."

Cellbit snorts quietly, lips quirking up into a half-smile. "Of course, guapito."

"Good." Roier nods, and he settles back into his sleeping bag. His bones, as usual, are aching. His hands burn, and he doesn't know what the hell his soulmate has been up to today, but he's going to make them start wearing gloves when he finds them.

He flops onto his opposite side, and then he screeches as his arm impales itself on the pointy end of an exposed screw.

"Chinga su madre-" he swears, scrambling out of his sleeping bag to dig up the hammer he and Cellbit were using earlier when they were renovating the airship.

Cellbit sits up, eyes wide. "Guapito? What happened?"

Roier slams his hammer into the screw in response with an irritated, pained, "Fucking nail got me in the arm, what the fuck?"

He turns his attention back to the floorboards, turning his sleeping bag over to inspect the rest of the floor for any loose nails.

(He does not notice Cellbit's face pale as he raises a shaky hand to his own arm, right where the screw had hit Roier. He looks from Roier's bleeding arm to his own, and a faint, excited, surprised, terrified smile crosses his face, and a blush paints itself across his nose and cheeks, and he has to cover his mouth to keep himself from letting out the happiest little squeal possible.)

Bleeding Heart Part Five

Part One | Previous Part

-

"Mr. Balanar?"

"Yes?"

"Hi! I'm the nurse at your son's school, and-"

"What!? Is Richarlyson okay? What happened?"

"Well, unfortunately your son did have a bit of an incident this morning. He threw up all over his clothes, and he's running a slight fever. I'm going to have to ask you to pick him up."

"Of course. I'm on my way."

-

Cellbit lets out an anxious breath and slumps into a seat. His foot taps against the floor, his other leg bounces. He wipes his palms on his jeans and flashes a fake smile at the concerned secretary.

It's only been an hour and a half since Pac dropped Richarlyson off at school. Cellbit knows this because he knows Richarlyson's schedule better than Richarlyson does, he knows precisely when school starts, and he knows that Richarlyson has only actually been in class for an hour. The first half hour of his day is a school-provided breakfast.

It's only been an hour and a half, but Richarlyson has somehow developed a fever in that hour and a half. He wasn't sick earlier, obviously, so.

Is his son dying? No, right? He's fine. It might have been the breakfast. Richarlyson complains about it all the time, he hates it.

Maybe Pac just missed the fever. Richarlyson has a habit of not mentioning he's feeling sick until he's ready to be thrown into an ambulance; Cellbit understands, he feels the same way. Hospitals are too... cold.

So it's logical that Richarlyson is sick now. It's logical. Cellbit doesn't need to be worried.

Cellbit pulls out his phone to text Pac an update: 'Waiting in the front office now. Taking Richas home, I'll take care of him'

Pac, of course, wants Richarlyson to go to a doctor. But Pac also knows that nobody in the family can exactly afford a doctor; Bagi is the only one with health insurance, but it doesn't cover anyone but her.

(Pac also knows that Richarlyson can't so much as smell antiseptic wipes without acting out. So him going with Cellbit is probably for the best; nobody else understands just gets it.)

Cellbit doesn't react as the secretary buzzes someone else into the school. He doesn't react as the door opens beside him, and he doesn't react as he hears a small group of people walk into the office muttering amongst themselves. He keeps looking at his phone, mostly so the secretary doesn't feel obligated to try and calm him down.

But:

"Mr. Balanar, hello!"

And, suddenly, he can hear his own heartbeat and nothing else.

Slowly, Cellbit lets out a breath. He smiles, polite, and he places his phone screen-down in his lap. He looks up, and he nods oh so politely.

"Cucurucho," he very politely greets.

In all white stands C.B. Cucurucho, the Federation's 'civilian liaison' and Cellbit's worst enemy. The goddamn bastard.

They're smiling, because of course they fucking are. Their teeth are absolutely blinding- straight and white as a military graveyard.

"What a surprise to see you here!" they exclaim.

They lean closer, hands behind their back, head cocked slightly to the side. "Did you get my email?"

Nobody knows what the 'C.B.' stands for in their name. Nobody knows what their powers are. They're an enigma even down to their appearance: sleek, white hair down to their mid-back straight out of a shampoo commercial; pale skin akin to that of a corpse's; long, sharp nails like claws; and a pair of eyes constantly hidden behind black circular sunglasses. Their suit is sharp, their heels are pointed, and their lipstick is red.

Cellbit hates them.

Behind Cucurucho, their group of Federation employees all go to sign in to the front desk. There's a handful of people in suits and two heroes in goofy outfits who do not look like they want to be there. Newer ones, probably. Less popular than Bluebird, too, or they wouldn't have to be doing school events.

Cellbit nods. Doesn't say anything.

He and Cucurucho have beef. He hates Cucurucho, and Cucurucho doesn't really acknowledge beyond him being Detective Bagi Webber's twin brother. He wants Cucurucho dead, and Cucurucho sends him and Bagi Christmas cards every year. He wants to squeeze the life out of Cucurucho's shitty fucking heart with his own bare hands, and Cucurucho keeps adding him to the Federation promotional email list.

He and Cucurucho have beef.

The group of Feds all filter out of the office and into the hallway beyond, following the secretary to wherever they're supposed to be going, but Cucurucho stays behind. They're tall on their own, but them being in high heels and Cellbit being seated makes them loom above him almost imposingly. Their glasses are so dark that he can see his reflection in them, and he looks so small, somehow.

Cellbit bites back a shiver. Even with a jacket on, he's so cold.

"I hope you consider my offer," Cucurucho says. "I'm sure your camera has been returned to you by the police department by now. There shouldn't be any trouble getting those pictures over to me."

"Just ask Bagi for them," Cellbit politely huffs.

Cucurucho shakes their head. "And take the credit away from you? Come on, Mr. Balanar, who do you think we are? The Federation of Heroes takes pride in its civilian associates and their work. You'll be credited and compensated."

Kill yourself, Cellbit thinks. Fucking die already.

"I'm not interested," he flatly says.

Clicking their tongue disapprovingly, Cucurucho sighs and stands back upright.

"You know," they say, "I made an effort to look through your records before emailing you. It's a shame it never worked out between us, but I do think that a collaboration would work. You have talent, Mr. Balanar. The Federation could easily put it to use."

Cellbit shivers, pulls his coat closed across his chest subconsciously.

He doesn't respond. He just watches as Cucurucho turns to the front desk, flipping their hair back over their shoulder as they go. They sign in.

As they turn to follow their group into the school, Cucurucho pauses to give Cellbit one last look.

"I'll be in touch," they say.

And, with that, they leave.

Cellbit folds over in his chair as soon as they're gone, head falling into his (shaking) hands and shoulders tense and heaving. He can't fucking breathe-

The door to the school opens again, and Cellbit snaps his head up just in time to see the nurse leading a very embarrassed Richarlyson into the office with her hand on his shoulder. His clothes are damp, and his face is visibly shining with sweat.

Immediately, Cellbit is out of his seat and swooping in to pick Richarlyson up. He takes Richarlyson's backpack and slings it over his own shoulder.

"Come on, filho, let's go home," he murmurs.

"Yeah, 'kay," Richarlyson whimpers.

The nurse waves them off with a worried frown.

Richarlyson is so light, he always has been. But today, he seems lighter, somehow. Oh, God, is he dying? That's just what Cellbit needs, a dying son. Great. Great!

As soon as they're on the street and away from the school, though, Richarlyson starts wriggling and begging to be set down.

"What?" Cellbit asks. "No, you're sick, and I'm your dad. Shut up."

"But I'm not!" Richarlyson whines. "I made myself sick! Put me down!"

He kicks and writhes until Cellbit is forced to set him down on the sidewalk. Almost immediately, Richarlyson's face is back to normal. No sweat, no sickness, nothing.

On a hunch, Cellbit unzips Richarlyson's backpack and sees an open notebook in it. With. With a sick Richarlyson drawn inside it.

He narrows his eyes at his son, who just shrugs and puts his hands in his pockets.

"I didn't wanna go to the Junior Heroes presentation," he explains. "Fuck that."

"Oh," Cellbit quietly says.

The Junior Heroes... ugh. Everything about them makes Cellbit's stomach turn uncomfortably. They make him sick, actually. And it's not the kids' faults, but. But what kind of parents actually sign their kids up for what's essentially a war on crime?

Richarlyson jumps up to get his bag back. Cellbit lets him; he faked being sick, he can carry his own shit.

They start walking again, towards the subway that'll take them back to Cellbit's apartment.

"I didn't know they were coming today, or I would've skipped," Richarlyson continues. "I only found out after breakfast, and apparently they're recruiting or something? Today was supposed to be some huge presentation trying to get us to sign up, but, like, nah. Fuck that."

Cellbit nods. "Fair."

It explains why Cucurucho was there, at least. And the two heroes are probably graduates of the Junior Heroes Program.

Cellbit has beef with Cucurucho.

He extends his hand towards Richarlyson, and Richarlyson takes it.

"Come on," he tells his absolute genius of a son. "I'm proud of you for getting out of there. Let's get ice cream."

"What, really?" Richarlyson gasps.

Cellbit smiles at him. "Yeah, 'really'. You basically tricked Cucurucho. That deserves a reward."

Richarlyson cheers, and Cellbit cheers with him. Sure, they look stupid jumping and fist-pumping and shouting in the middle of the street, but if being annoying was a crime, Cellbit would have been arrested years ago. Richarlyson is a kid, he should get to be as annoying as he wants to be. He deserves that much, at least.

"You're my favorite dad ever!" Richarlyson exclaims.

"I'll be sure to tell Pai Felps that you said that," Cellbit teases.

Richarlyson gasps and shakes his head. "Noooooooooooooo, he's my actual favorite, you can't do that!"

"Sure I can. It'll be your punishment for abusing your powers in public."

"But dad!"

"You know the rules, Richas. If I have to follow them, so do you."

Richarlyson groans, but he knows that Cellbit is right. He hates it, but Cellbit is right. Cellbit hates it, but Cellbit is right.

With Richarlyson complaining, they turn away from their subway station and towards the street leading to Richarlyson's favorite ice cream parlor. With any luck, Bad won't be working today, so Cellbit won't have to explain why he's there with his son when he's supposed to be editing and Richarlyson is supposed to be at school.

(As they walk towards the ice cream parlor, Cellbit swears he sees a shadow following them from on top of the nearby buildings.

He flips the shadow off.

Fucking creep.)

--

A/N: Let me know what you think in the tags or in my inbox! I want to hear your theories, thoughts, opinions, everything!

HAPPY SPIDERBIT DAY!!!!

yes & no by natalie wee

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