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Hobie Brown - Blog Posts
It's already common knowledge that the animation for ATSV is absolutely bonkers (with the first film already breaking ground). But learning this added info over Hobie's animation is beyond nuts.
The whole Punkflower age debate is so annoyingly funny to me because it’s just a bunch of people being racist and homophobic 💀
There’s literal hints and facts on hobie’s age throughout the show with the whole hinting that Gwen was into hobie or they were in some sort of relationship and Gwen’s 5moths older than miles
Okay so let me get this right hobie is somehow 19-20 years old an adult and Gwen’s 16 and there’s innuendos that there in some type of relationship yeah totally not weird
But I haven’t seen anyone talking about that at all but when ChaiPunk or PunkFlower comes in there’s a whole debate / issue
Also the whole Hobie acts like he’s years older than the others
HMMMMMM That’s probably because his world is fucked up he lives in a facist world, he’s an orphan, killed the president and some other things but he acts to old for his age
No shit he does bro has trauma on truama thrown at him he dosent really have time to act like a teen or a child it also explains why he’s living on his own
PunkFlower has been a thing way longer than ATSV and the whole confirmation on age thing
He’s talking about 42 Hobie and If you look up hobies age it says he’s in his teens and in the comics hobie is around the Same age as miles but okay 💀 you do you
Idk I think people just don’t do research and hop on what the other person said before and call that facts and than call others pedophiles and that it’s a proship
Art from Twitter @XMZ_0402
What do we think about Hobie with a chronically ill reader? 👀 (totally not projecting since I was recently diagnosed with an incurable illness)
Can I add to the Hobie dating an autistic person ideas based on my experiences? I'm autistic, my girlfriend isn't but neither of us would be shocked if she was.
Hobie understands that he has to be ultra specific when asking or explaining something to you. He can't be vague about it and say something will take a while, he knows you prefer a specific time.
He finds your stimming cute as fuck, but he's learned quickly to step out the way when you do stim lest he wants to be in the line of fire and accidentally get hit.
Same applies with hands. You gesture a lot with your hands and it gets more animated and crazy when you're excited and you wave then about. The cutest shit ever, not so much when you're eating or prepping food and you have a knife in your hand. A gentle reminder that its okay to stim, but maybe not with a knife or something stabby or fragile in your hand is all that's needed.
Yes, you and Hobie are on the same page 99 percent of the time, but occasionally there'll be miscommunication and what he says and means will be different to what you thought it meant. This is based on me and my girlfriend a few weeks ago. I suggested we "chill out" in her room, hoping she gets the hint. We go to her room and literally chill out whilst watching Bluey. Many laughs and kisses after, it was adorable
Hobie Brown Drabble: cooking rambles with a gn!autistic!reader
➼ I absolutely love these additions to the headcanons! I also talk a lot with my hands and at work and when I’m cooking that includes gesturing with very sharp knives, so- yeah I’m forcing that on our beloved gn!reader. Enjoy this little Drabble based on some of your lovely additions!
➼ I swear I did try my best on the accent-
➼ Sorry that this took a bit longer than I promised! Work has been kicking my ass
➼ No beta we die like uncle Aaron
➼ No warnings! Just fluff here
GIF doesn't belong to me! All credits to the original owner
You treasured nights like these, nights when Hobie wasn’t needed back at Spider HQ. Or just decided not to go. Either way, you enjoyed just being able to lounge around in your shared flat together, bitch about coworkers, turn on a cheesy movie, or your favorite: cook together. Nothing beat a homemade meal in Hobie’s opinion, he just…wasn’t the best at cooking. Wasn’t terrible either, more middle of the road, so he usually stuck to stirring and prepping the vegetables.
Tonight’s menu was grilled cheeses and tomato soup, some nice comfort food. Hobie was buttering up the pan for the sandwiches while you were chopping up some onions, going on about your day. “So then I’m at the counter just trying to ring up her order. Something complicated because of course she just couldn’t have the drinks how they come, each has at least three modifications” you rambled on. You always talked with your hands, gesturing wildly that you sometimes hit people. This was no different.
Apart from the fact that this time you had a knife in your hands.
“Like she wanted no whip on this one, double whip on that one, sprinkles on the other other one” you listed off, tapping the tip of the blade against your fingers without a second thought. Hobie was of course listening, but he had his back turned. At least it was until his Spidey-sense went off. But what could be causing danger-?
Cue you still gesturing with the knife, none the wiser that Hobie, who was once by the stove, had webbed up onto the ceiling and was standing there like a bat. Your eyes had been trained down as you went on. “I was losing my mind! I wanted to scream!” You raised your hands in frustration, and when you lowered them, the knife was gone and in its place? A wooden spoon. “What-?”
“Sorry luv, but I can’t ‘ave you swingin’ that ‘round. Can’t ‘ford a trip to the hospi’al” Hobie said, still hanging upside down on the ceiling but now with your stolen knife in hand. “I fancy ya a bi’ too much to let you ‘urt yourself.”
You could only laugh, setting the spoon down as Hobie finally jumped off of the ceiling, spinning around to land on his feet. “I didn’t even realize I was doing it” you replied, holding your hand out to get the knife back. He shot you a mock skeptical look before handing it back over, now sitting on the counter. “‘S alright swee’heart. Now watch where you’re cu’ing. I wan’ you ta keep all your fingers” he hummed out lowly, watching you get back to work. He always loved watching you talk with your hands and when you would stim, sometimes he just needed to step in to keep everyone safe. Anything for his luv.
OKAY I’m finally home from my little get away! Here’s some fics that are gonna come out in the next few days to get y’all excited:
“Miguel O’Hara headcanons: dating a gn!autistic! reader”
My first request!! Adding onto “Hobie Brown headcanons: dating a gn!autistic!reader” as well as a little Drabble
Then I’ll be taking a little break from the gn!autistic!reader series and be throwing some full fics out!
Hobie Brown headcanons: dating a gn!autistic!reader
➼These headcanons are based off some struggles I deal with myself as an autistic person, what my friends with autism face, and what i have seen and researched online. Autism is a spectrum and remember that everyone has different needs and levels of support, I just tried to include what i know in this post!
➼ Inspired by @hobie-enthusiast's fic QUIET AND EASE ! If you haven't read it you totally should! His writing is amazing and he has some of the best Hobie fics on here!
➼ No beta we die like uncle Aaron
➼No warnings here! Contains fluff
GIF doesn't belong to me! All credits to the original owner
Hobie is in tune with your needs, spidey-sense and all. He's pretty good at being able to predict when you're going to have a meltdown and will throw anyone out of the room to give you some space to calm down and work through it
Has ear defenders or headphones on him at all times and spare sets around his flat just for you
If you let him/want him to he will totally paint them for you, whatever you want
New safe food? He's stocked up like he's preparing for a blizzard
Never pressures you to try new foods or to 'get out of your comfort zone', but will encourage you if that is what you want
Safe food turned against you? He's boycotting it with you
"Luv I ain't ev'n like [food]"
Has invested in several weighted blankets of various weights
If you have sensory issues with clothing (tags, hate the feel of certain material, etc) but still want to steal his clothes, he will happily modify your favorite pieces of his so you can wear it. Hell, his whole closet even
Despite hating consistancy, he knows how important routine is to you and will throw that belief away in a heartbeat (just for you though)
Helps you with transitions, like giving ten minute warnings before you two go out, getting you a nice fluffy robe to make getting out of the shower easier, or writing out what you're doing for the day and when so you can mentally prepare yourelf
Will listen for hours about your special interest, even if you think he wouldn't care or like it. Hello Kitty? He's listening. Enbalming methods from the 1800's? Doesn't matter, you have his full attention and loves learning about whatever you love
If you're non-verbal, selectivly mute, or low-verbal, he finds other ways to help you communicate. Whatever makes you feel more comfortable and heard. 'Yes/No' buttons? You've got them. Flash cards with your needs? Got it on a clip and all so you can carry it around easier, and he helps you decorate them. Signing? Hobie's learning BSL now so he can understand you (and honestly loves signing with you)
Hobie has a huge fidget toy collection that you're welcome to take from at any time, no questions asked
New hyperfixation? He'll get you what you need to do it. Embroidary? He's already got needles and thread, you can practice on his clothes. Same with sewing, he'll teach you if you want. A new video game? He borrows the console needed just for you
He knows that he can get a little loud, especially when going out as spiderpunk. Hobie's mindful to keep his voice down around you and will remind anyone else if they're getting too loud
A/N: Might end up adding more to this in the future! Just wanted to finally post something and it's 4 am-
whatisthis
ANYWAYYY my classroom's fan just fell🔥🔥🔥🔥 how os everyone
:3 first post hi everyoen ‼️
crazy? i was crazy once. they locked me in a room. a rubber room. a rubber room with rats. and rats make me crazycrazy? i was crazy once. they lo
How the FREAK do Miles and Hobie fit their hair under their masks?
Before anyone tries to gaslight me on this, I myself am a black person. I have an afro. I currently have an afro right now as I'm typing this post. I know how tough it is to tame that thing. So please tell me how Hobie and Miles have these cool big hairstyles, and yet their hair fits under the mask perfectly as if it's completely short (when it's not). It's like all their hair temporarily disappears. That high cut Miles got would make him look crazy when the mask gets on IRL. Not to mention, imagine how crazy it'd look once he took it off. Hobie's result would be even worse. And for those who think I'm overreacting,
Look. Look at the photos
LIKE, YO, HOOOOWWWWWW?!?!?!?!?!?!
I watched it a while back. The second I finished and went to my room and drew for like an hour past 12 am.
just watched the new spider man and am now bi sexual,and I'm gonna say it now it was the fucking HAIR like why was the hair making them so god damn attractive
he's so scrumpty umpty and drawable I cannot stop help
Hobie Brown the man you are
The introduction
Gay people, rise up. It's Hobie time.
Warnings:
-swearing
-Miguel O' Hara
(This takes place around two and a half years before the main story, I'm working on organizing it into a masterlist rn)
You don't know exactly where you are.
That's getting more and more common these days, though, so you don't hold it against the very upset-seeming Latin man or the weird asshole hologram lady, and look forward to the small camera before you.
"I'm- I'm really sorry, what is it I'm supposed to be doing again?" Your hand finds the textured, plastic back of the chair, and you run a thumb over the grain to soak in the feeling. The man whose name you're already forgetting scowls, and he steps forward.
"Can you just- Lyla, can you do the thing?" He sounds annoyed. It makes you shrivel in on yourself, smile sheepishly as you pray that you'll make it out of today without having to deal with him any more than this.
"What thing?" Lyla, as you find out her name, seems to revel in that question, cocking out her hip in that too-big jacket and grinning as she responds.
"The information- explainy thing. You know what I mean." Lyla crossed her arms, and stuck her tongue out a little bit.
"Hah, you're talking about a different thing. You know, for someone with such thorough naming conventions-"
"I know! I understand, I get it, ay-" You've just been sitting there this entire exchange, borderline shaking as you try to understand what the fuck is going on here.
The screeching on a loud guitar makes you jump, and cover your ears. The frustrated man glances for a second, before nodding ever so slightly to Lyla, who seemingly makes a note somewhere.
"Sensory sensitivity, got it-" She speaks as you lower your hands, eyes wide and anxious like a feral cat trapped in a corner.
The big man seems to soften his posture a bit more, but he balls his hands into fists before stomping off in the direction of the guitar.
"Alright kid. Let me help you out a little here." She swoops through the air until she stands behind the camera, and gives you a seemingly more considerate smile.
You hear the shutter open.
"Introduce yourself." You don't think you pulled a face at that, but the way Lyla reacts, you simply must have. She sighs, but remains patient.
"Like your name-"
"My name??? No, no, no, no, no. I wanna do this my own way." She steps back, puts her hands up causally, before she seems to blip out of existence again, seemingly content to let you work this out on your own.
The camera is, in fact, scarier alone, but you swallow down that fear and start to talk.
"Uhhh- Hi. I'm- I- I- I-" Words seem to evade your idiot mouth as you look down the lens of the camera, before you pinch the bridge of your nose.
"Motherfffff-" You cut yourself off at the "f", remembering the single, beady eye scanning you, the piercing vertical eye of the moitor at it side that likely shows you there, too. So you correct yourself. "I shouldn't say that."
"Y- Ugh, goddammit. Webs, spider, you get the gist. Call me Orb-" Before you can finish your poorly-planned little clip, the door opens, but the cadence of the footsteps are different.
There's a stupidly lanky boy there, with a guitar on his back and adorned in spikes.
Twists stick out from his scalp, honeyed a nice yellowish at the ends, and he wears a lip ring and earrings, though they don't go up past the lobe very far.
He seems to be made of some sort of collage, infinitely shifting snippets of newspaper and color in his little backdrop as he changes color. Currently, he seems to be sticking to gray. It's neat, but you don't yet know how it works and that only sours your already confused mood further.
You frown a little, he seems to catch it.
"Oi, mate. Who're you?" Wow. He is stupid British. Some part of your brain lights up with that, chews on the way that voice rings through the space.
Not rich, from the slang, and he's clipped, so you guess somewhere South-East, judging by the jacket, near Camden.
The punk seems to squirm a bit, and he less confidently says "Wot the fuck's up with you? You're starin'"
You feel your cheeks heat with shame, but you speak up.
"Not staring, just… observing. It's different." He raises a brow, but lets you finish.
"I like your twists. Very… cool."
He pauses, before taking one of them into a gangly hand. You see the corner of his lip twitch up but you don't know why
"Thanks."
There's a moment of dead air, but you both ask the same question at once.
"Do you know why we're here?" "Do ya know why we're in this shithole?"
You meet his eyes. They're a nice brown, your brain supplies, but they would look much better in warmer lighting.
He starts to giggle. You think his laugh is funny, and chuckle too.
"Right, I guess we should get to know each-other if we're stuck here, yeah?" He's walking over now, asking that question like you know what you're doing.
"I'm Hobie. Hobie Brown." He doesn't offer a hand. You're grateful for that, this has all been too much already.
"I'm Orb-weaver." Your voice is flat enough to make him raise a brow, but he shrugs, seemingly fine with dismissing that as just how you are remarkably fast.
"All business, huh?"
"No. My name is just on a need-to-know basis right now." You answer, and he leans on the edge of your chair, smiling.
"What if I-"
"You don't need to know." His lips lose some of that smile, and, for a second, you flounder to fix that, at any cost. But you can't tell him your name.
"But… I appreciate your tenacity." It's a compliment, one of the rare ones that you give, and Hobie seems to register that, because the papers surrounding him shift again and he turns… pink. Huh.
"That sounds like a label, mate, I don't do those."
"What?"
The recording stops.
The conversation doesn't.
Why Hobie disappears
Not very long, just a little thing I wrote! Features/warnings:
Hobie is protrayed as very much being genderqueer in some way, shape or form, and is referred with he/they/she throughout the story + one instance of the reader calling him "girly" which Hobie explicitly enjoys and is implied to have talked about beforehand.
Reader is implied to also be genderqueer, and Hobie refers to them as "big man" once, they also stim when they get excited. Other than that, gender neutral reader and no warnings, just silly fluff!
It's widely understood that Hobie in himself is a wild sort of enigma. This is why no one really seems to question where he's going or why, what he plans to do. Hobie is just... Hobie, and he Hobies around until he leaves and presumably Hobies around some more wherever he trotted off to. Gwen and Pav wonder about this, because after every mission (or, at least, the few that Hobie bothers with), he just sort of magically slips off and reappears sometime later. It's Pav that suggests tracking him down, but Gwen would be a liar to say she's not also curious.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
You sit on the floor, cross-legged with a punk at your side and a sewing machine in front of you. Tartan weave rubs against your fingers as you sew darts into the fabric, ensuring it would fit just a bit more snugly at the waist, because Hobie really liked that sort of thing in clothes. "Y'want a cinch, right? Nothin' too far off your usual?" Just in case, you double check. Hobie looks up from his guitar, and nods. You don't really note that he's smiling, and he knows you aren't, but the corners of his lips twitch up anyway. "Yeah. Thanks again, bruv, couldn't ever do that shit like you." There's something in his voice that makes you smile, nod a little firmer than normal. Hobie knows that. "Yeah, yeah, 'nuff with the flattery, I'm on it." Truth be told, this little symbiosis of Hobie giving you projects to work on and you giving him much better clothing in return has grown into something much more significant. Friendship. Even when you weren't working on anything, taking a rare break to clear your head, Hobie would let you sit near him (regardless of if you were in a talking mood or just wanted to be quiet for a few hours), sometimes talk about what he was doing, sometimes teach you a little tidbit about his universe's idea of how punk works. It was similar, for the most part, but you liked to learn new things anyway, so it never hurt. Your skilled fingers thread the machine before you as Hobie continues plucking at quiet chords with the guitar. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Gwen and Pav felt like this search was endless. For at least an hour, they had found a grand total of nothing, like Hobie really had vanished into thin air. He wasn't at his place Gwen had checked, so he was probably somewhere at the Spider Society, but tracking down someone so rebellious that no one bothered to ask where he was going was proving to be ridiculously difficult. It takes another half hour to find one of the smaller rooms of the Spider Society, a little sort of craft-haven and quiet space. Pav cracks the door, and gasps a little. "Gwen, Gwen, look at this." ------------------------------------------------------------------------------ When you take the now-fitted shirt off the machine (with a slight skirt you'd added made of scrap fabrics), you grin, and toss it to Hobie. "Try it on, fucker, should be perfect." Your confidence isn't misplaced, it seems, because when Hobie taps your shoulder to signal that it's good to turn back around, they're a fucking vision. Smudged eyeliner, torn pants, and the little suspenders, all the same, but with your work, cinching at the middle and showing off the wonderful lines of form, tracing down their hips until the skirt cuts off mid-thigh, Hobie looks so much more at home in it. "Fuck yeah!" Hobie smiles when you jump up and flap your hands a little, lets you circle them like a hungry shark as you rave about the new thing you'd tried, a different stitch or something. Hobie couldn't care less what you did. It was something you had made, and that was enough. "Beautiful, can't believe you're lookin' so good, girly." The tender, feminine nickname makes Hobie's chest thrum a little with satisfaction. She knows you know that she loves it when you do that, when you use other pronouns just to show her that you know and care for her preferences. "Thanks, big man. 'Preciate it." Now its your turn to grin, and wrap the punk up in a tight hug from behind, stupidly happy and content. Hobie is nonchalant. You are not. It works well. The lanky Brit smiles, and pats your hand around their waist. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------ Gwen and Pavitr had stood stock still as they watched this exchange. It was deeply shocking to them. Hobie, who was hanging out and being nice with some random, excitable spider that neither of them had met before. And this other spider seemingly knew things they didn't if Hobie's little smile was anything to go by. Gwen, however, softens. Hobie had his confidants, and she has hers. Maybe that's why she gently pulls Pav back, and smiles at him. "C'mon. Let's get lunch. Hobie's doing his own thing."
Pants I found on twitter 🤙
Hobie mate I love youuu, I’mnotfinishingthis ever, I love youuu
Punkflower is everything. I am painstakingly waiting for more fics, but if there aren't more soon imma take things into my own hands
hobie’s seen some of miles’ graffiti work and took interest in it himself, so one day he asks miles if he could spray paint a spider on one of his plain tees to give it pizazz.
usually, miles isn’t really worried about his graffiti art being perfect; but this time it’s different. hobie’s cool as hell, what if he doesn’t like the finished product? that’d destroy his ego.
so he’s been circling around the t-shirt that laid on the floor, shaking a can of black spray paint for about ten minutes now. it was simple, really; all he needed to do was a circle and then the spider on the inside, but he couldn’t bring himself to start just yet, because what if the circle comes out lopsided, or he doesn’t make the spider big enough to fit four legs on each side?
it didn’t really help that hobie leaned against the wall in front of miles, observing miles circle around like a nervous mess.
“miles.. you good?”
“huh?”
“you’ve been doing..” unsure of what to call it, hobie motions with his hand, “this, for the past ten minutes. do you like.. need some inspo?”
“oh no, it’s not that, it’s just..” he isn’t sure how to cover it up, so he just is honest, “i don’t wanna mess it up, it’s gotta look nice.”
“it’s fine, no big deal if it’s messy.”
“you sure?” miles stops his pacing, looking down at the blue tee. it was modified, the collar and bottom hem messily torn off to fit hobie’s style more, and now miles felt a bit stupid for overthinking his craft; hobie was all about messy!
“yeah, the shirt don’t got any sentimental value for me yet, so i’m not gonna get mad if you absolutely fuck up the spider.” hobie shrugs.
miles raises a brow. “yet?” he’s really curious about what that means, and even finds himself hoping it means what he thinks it does.
he totally isn’t sure why though, of course.
“yeah, right now this shirt is just like, basic.” hobie starts, and miles doesn’t realize it but his voice gets a bit softer. “it doesn’t really have a meaning, but once you give it your touch it gets its value, because it’s your craft that you’re giving to me, y’know?”
there’s a lot more that hobie wanted to say, but he couldn’t get the courage to do it. he realizes he kind of went off on a tangent, and possibly annoyed miles, if it weren’t for the wide eyed look on the boy’s face. “sorry, that was a bit too much.” he grimaces.
“oh, oh no, it’s fine!” miles reassures the other, a smile on his face. “i appreciate your appreciation a lot.”
he shakes the can of spray paint, a hint of determination in his eyes as he looks at the tee once more.
Spiderverse Brainrot has taken over so I wanted to try a group shot! Let me know what y’all think!
Got a chance to see the new Spiderverse Movie and I LOVED IT!! So here’s a piece of fanart of the boi Hobie Brown!
My previously mentioned POS Anarchist roommate sent me this Twitter thread after we watched ASTV and haven't seen it anywhere here.
filterless Hobie actually looks like a teen i love it for him
a little sneak peek at what im drawing rn ;)
