Astv Hobie - Blog Posts

Hobie Brown <3

I don't get jealous

For once, on the way home from watching Hobie and his band play down at the new pub that has opened up, McGregors, Hobie is silent on the ride home, only murmuring soft replies to whatever question or comment I say to him, an deep in thought expression on his handsome face.

I frown as the bus we're on stops and Hobie gently grabs onto my hand and leads me to the front, and down the steps, and off of the bus giving a small two fingered salute to the bus driver, who Hobie knows and is allowed free rides from.

I give a polite wave to the bus driver and the man in the black cap nods before driving off and Hobie begins to walk, moving his hand from holding mine to gently holding the loop on the side of my pants as we walk together towards our apartment.

Its about a five minute walk but still Hobie is silent, brushing his thumb over the hip part of my pants in casual affection and that only makes me think harder. 'he doesn't seem angry at me...so what is going on?'

Once we reach our apartment, Hobie swiftly grabs onto the key ring on his own belt loop, taking if off and unlocking the door with familiar ease before replacing the key ring back onto his belt loop gently pushing me inside before himself.

"Is everything alright, babe?" I ask softly, taking off my jacket and placing it on the wooden coat rack beside our door. Hobie merely gives a small dismissive hum, "Yeah, I'm alright, keen as a peach." He murmurs, shedding his own jacket, placing it beside mine before walking further into our apartment.

My eyebrows furrow together at the dismissive tone, and I begin to trail Hobie, following him into our bedroom to where he's sat on our bed, untying his boots.

"You haven't said an actual sentence that isn't dismissive, since we left the pub. What is going on?" I ask, kneeling in front of him with concerned eyes.

Hobie looks up from untying his boots, and there's an small scowl on his face but I already know it isn't directed at me. "One of the blokes had the gawl to gauke at you after the show, I seen him in the crowd watching you like you weren't nothing but a pretty face." He huffs, tone coming out more irritated, but he continues. "Then, the new guy on bass, Archie or whatever asked if you n' me were serious-" Hobie's rant is cut off by an irritated groan, finally untying both of his boots with more than needed force.

I put my hands out in front of me in a calming gesture, "Woah, woah, sweetheart. It's okay." I say, trying to cool Hobies irritable and upset mood, I bring one hand up to cup Hobies cheek, gently stroking my thumb over his flushed cheek.

"It's alright to get jealous, I get jealous sometimes too-" I'm cut off by Hobie narrowing his eyes at me, as he tongues the inside of his cheek. 'oh boy'

"I dont get jealous." He scoffs lightly as if the mere idea is ridiculous, crossing his arms over his chest as he glares at me half heartedly.

I quickly begin to backtrack, nodding. "Of course..but it isn't a bad thing that you might be." I say, trying to reassure him but that doesn't seem to be a good enough answer for Hobie as he keeps his narrowed gaze on me, jaw clenching and unclenching.

I don't have a moment to react before Hobie leans forward, placing his hands behind my thighs as I'm still kneeling in front of him and gently lifts me up into his lap, effectively making me straddle his thighs.

I can't get a word in either as Hobie leans his head into my neck, breathing in my scent and the tension practically melts away from his body. "I don't get jealous." He repeats softly, pressing soft kisses to the pulse point of my neck, his hands finding my hips to bring me closer to him.

I only breathe out an agreeing "Uh-huh" as my hands tangle in the back of his hair. 'this is going to be an interesting night' I think to myself, cheeks flushing from the incoming thoughts as Hobies lips go lower...

Sickly Sweet Part II

I shuffle about in the kitchen, buttering two pieces of toast onto a plate before walking over towards the stove, stirring the pot of soup with the spoon sticking out of it. The atmosphere is almost peaceful if it weren't for the sound of a ball bouncing off of a wall coming from the bedroom down the hall.

Tap...tap...tap.

Then silence.

"Baaaaaabe?" Hobies stuffy voice rings out from the open bedroom door, and I can't help the small tinge of frustration in my tone.

"Yes, Hobie?" I call back over my shoulder, opening up a cupboard above the stove to grab a tray as well as a bowl for the soup.

Another beat of silence passes.

"That ain't right...you callin' me by my government name jus cause you're upset with me." He whines.

At that, I can't help but roll my eyes.

"Well, sweetheart if you weren't kissing all up on me when I was sick we wouldn't be in this position." I throw over my shoulder, before facing the soup once more, filling it up to the brim with homemade chicken soupy goodness, placing it on the tray next to the two slices of toast on the small plate.

Another beat of silence before a sneeze rings out from the bedroom, an small irritated groan following afterwards. I begin to walk towards the bedroom, tray in hand and once I enter the doorway I'm greeted with the sight of Hobie, burrowed underneath at least four blankets with a cold compress on his head looking absolutely miserable.

"I ain't pleading the fifth..." He murmurs, looking at me with tired puppy dog eyes, the lack of eyeliner apparent due to him feeling too sick to put any on himself but his natural eye bags are as present as ever. I give an amused huff as I walk closer, setting the tray of hearty food on the makeshift-crate before sitting beside him.

"How are you feeling?" I ask, removing the cold compress on his forehead and replacing it with the back of my hand, checking his temperature. 'still hot' I think to myself.

"Miserable, I think this may be it for me." Hobie grunts, but leans into my hand regardless of how gross he feels right now.

"I'd like to write my last will and testament." He groans. "You'll get everything of course, lovey, but Pav gets my record player, he's been eyeing it for months I swear it-" I interrupt Hobie's tangent with a gentle shove to the forehead, making him lay down on the pillows.

"You're not dying, my god. Are you always this insufferable?" I question although I already know the answer, and letting out a small laugh, I had the same thing not even a week ago and I wasn't nearly as bad as Hobie.

Hobie merely sniffles, and nods. "You love that about me." He comments, familiar cocky smile shining on his lips.

I merely sigh and nod, "Yes, I do love that about you." Unable to stop the small smile of fondness in my face, my hands move and gather the tray of food from the side table, and place it on his lap.

"C'mon, eat and get your strength up." I gently urge, and Hobie sits back up, eyeing the food before taking one of the toasts from the plate and dipping it into the bowl of soup before tearing a bite out of it. He hums in quiet delight at the taste before swallowing.

"Thank you, Sweet pea. Mean it." He says, tired eyes squinting up as he smiles at me, before snuggling himself further into the pillows behind him.

"I don't suppose your bedside manner includes kisses and cuddles?" He suggests with a cheesy smile and eyebrow wiggle, taking another bite of the soup damp toast.

I let out a laugh, shaking my head. "Not happening." I say to which Hobie nods, shrugging his shoulders. "Was worth a shot." He smiles anyway.

General Hobie Headcanons

Hobie Brown gives me insomniac vibes. He would walk around late at night with his headphones on but he would probably be listening to white girl music while making a cup of beef ramen. "Ca-la-fornia girls we're unforgettable, daisy dukes, bikinis on top-"

He has an resting bitch face that makes a lot of people avoid him on the street, coupled with the fact he's tall as hell but if he comes across a stray animal? He's instantly crouching down and offering a hand to the animal with soft cooing noises, making a nickname for the animal upon the spot. "You look like a Charles to me.."

I don't care if he is spiderman, he seems like he runs into things constantly, not because he's necessarily clumsy but he's lanky and tall. If you ask him where he got the bruises, he would hum and shrug his shoulders. "Think I slept fought my toaster." Just give you a ridiculous excuse everytime.

Hobie loves beanies, problem is, the fabric has to be stretchy enough to fit his bunches of hair which some beanies are absolutely hard to find made with such fabric so he gathers (steals) the perfect fabric (He stood in the aisle for a good ten minutes before picking his favorite color of the fabric) and makes his own beanies as a result, adding his own personal touches of stitching, patterns and pins. "Big brands could never." He would scoff looking proudly in the mirror.

This man doesn't do matching socks, I don't care what you say. "Our downfall as a society started with matching socks." He would nod and say.

Sickly Sweet

Like Clockwork, every year in the spring I get sick. Be it the flu, extreme irritable allergies that won't go away or just a stubborn cough. It happens.

I groan, trying to shuffle some of the blankets that are cocooning and holding me hostage in my boyfriend's bed off of me, searching for a moment of rest from being so hot.

"What do you think you're doin'?" Comes from the doorway, and I practically deflate at the sound of that cocky voice I love so much.

"Babe, I need a minute without these blankets suffocating me." I quietly hiss, glaring at Hobie.

Hobie only walks closer, stopping right by my side to take the damp rag from my forehead and placing a fresh and cold one in its place.

I can't help but tense up at the sudden coldness of it but it becomes very welcomed after I get used to the feeling.

"Is this really necessary..?" I huff, but Hobie merely gives me an raised eyebrow look, and I roll my eyes.

"Open up, Lovey." He says, grabbing the thermometer from the crate-makeshift side table. I only glare at Hobie, eyes narrowed in refusal and pure stubbornness. "No."

"No?" Hobie repeats, an amused smile rising to his lips, shiny piercing at the corner of his lips catching in the dim light of the bedroom lamp.

"No, this is childish and I don't want to-" I'm interuptted by Hobie swiftly catching my jaw in one hand, placing the thermometer gently into my mouth and under my tongue, shutting my mouth around the thin piece of metal.

"Hush and let me take care of my darling, alright?" He murmurs, eyeing the thermometer and me with his own stubborn yet loving look.

All I can do is sigh and nod, letting Hobie keep me trapped underneath piles of blankets, fetching me cool rags to place on my forehead and hope I don't sweat to death.

Hobie Brown Boyfriend Headcanons Part II

Hobie Brown would tie your shoe laces almost instantly if he notices they aren't tied, doesn't matter what you or he's doing at the time, he's kneeling down in front of you and swiftly double knotting the laces. "Trying to fall for me all over again, eh?" He would tease.

Hobie would sleep with an arm tucked around your waist, in a loose grip with your head tucked into the crook of his neck, depending on how hard his missions went is how hard he would be to wake up, also he absolutely sleep talks. "Tha damn pigeons are everywhere-"

Pet names are an given. We know he calls Gwen, Gwendy and Miles, Peter Pan and( I absolutely Headcanons he gives every spider person a nickname even if they like it or not) so calling his partner nicknames would be often, "Darling, Sweetheart, Sweet Pea, Babe"

If you were around the same size as him, or if you liked oversized clothing, he's snatching it without a doubt, bonus points if it's a band shirt. If you were to complain, he'd just throw one of his own shirts at you. "There, now we're even."

He would leave little scraps of paper around place, often times with a small heart along with his initials just for you to find. But, he would make some if not most of them difficult to find and or reach, just as a challenge.

If you wanted your hair up, or wanted it a certain style, Hobie would do his best to help, saying, "I have plenty of experience with hair in the band business, babe." But, depending on the hair style it may turn out really good or not good at all but Hobie would stand beside you and tell you that you look great anyway.

Hobie Headcanons as a Dad

It doesn't matter if he has a daughter or a son, he would one hundred percent teach them to defend themselves, not without a bit of sass of course. "Are you sure you're mine? That punch reminded me way too much of slime bouncin' off the wall."

Shoplifting. Oh, his kid wants a toy? If it's from a corporate store, he's snatching it with ease but if it's something large that his kid wants, he would just make it, or steal small parts one at a time.

Shoulder rides/piggy back rides all the time, play wrestling is always going on.

If his partner has a different accent than him, he would absolutely teach the kid to make fun of their other parents speaking. "Why is our child saying I speak like Donnie Thornberry when I'm angry..?" "Not a clue, babe." He's secretly cackling.

He wouldn't do the reach behind the seat thing in the car and say, "Dad tax". He would reach back in between stops, taking the snack/bag up front so the kids would have to steal the snacks back. "If you can steal it, s'yours."

Hobie as a Dad, would mean you'd find little sketches of his kids in little spiderman outfits with punk flare of course in the pockets of his jeans or vest, and if you just find little cut out patterns for such suits and a homemade sewing machine...no you didn't.

Some sketches I did in class

The ones with braids is me trying to draw one of his concerns designs from memory

Thought I’d post again

The hyperfixating is stronger than ever