#and then it's promptly forgotten immediately because the movie sucks

[conspiracydawg]

conundrum: I listen mostly to movie soundtracks, but I occasionally get an urge for something else. like blackbird, by the beatles, which is a song that I listen to like twice a year probably. I don't have it downloaded with the rest of my music (because I don't want a single track taking up a whole album spot in my music player so I'd probably want to go find the full album and at that point I really ought to download the entire beatles discography etc), so I pull it up on youtube when the rare urge strikes

a few years ago, I did this, waited briefly to make sure everything was working as it should before I switched back to my other tabs, and I happened to see a comment on the video that went something like "like if you're here from boss baby!!!!!!"

and unfortunately this has ruined my life. I haven't even seen boss baby but now whenever I hear blackbird I can see him. I can see that shitty little baby's stupidass fucking face. I can see his stupidass fucking suit. I can see his stupidass fucking giant glassy eyes getting even bigger and glassier as he gazes off and has a stupidass fucking Emotional Sequence. stupidass fucking baby. I hate him

[lady-of-nightmares-and-heartache]

Crossed

Hobie Brown x Fem!Reader

You never were able to sleep all that well, knowing that your best friend was out all night fighting crime, and out all day staging unpermitted political actions, and concerts with his band. Hobie Brown did entirely too much.

He makes it a point to check in every so often so that you know he hasn’t forgotten about you. His only non-band member friend and the only one in his universe that knew about his big secret. Hobie Brown was Spider-Punk, and it was a full-time, penniless gig.

Shortly after you had become friends, you learned about his identity on accident. You were glad you did though, because it explained a lot about his prolonged absences. When he officially became homeless because he didn’t have an actual job, you offered up your place until he could get back on his feet.

That was a few months ago. Now he happily has his own flat, but spends just as much time at your own flat, if not more than his own.

So when he hasn’t stopped by or called in a week, you were worried. You know that he got called to Spider Society HQ to deal with some anomaly threat, but that was a week ago. Normally he’d be back by now, or would call you mid-fight just to check in.

You’re in your cotton shorts and an oversized tshirt while you watch a scary movie in the living room before heading off to bed. You likely won’t sleep well anyway, so you’re not overly concerned about potential nightmares.

While jump-scares are a cheap way to get a reaction out of the audience, they get you every time. So when the music peaks and the demon suddenly appears on screen AND you hear a violently loud, very real noise right outside of your bedroom window, your heart jumps into your throat and you swear you can feel your soul leave your body.

Pausing the movie (there’s no way you’re gonna continue watching that tonight) you creep towards your bedroom. Slowly opening the door, you see a figure opening up your window very slowly and shakily stepping into your bedroom. You flick on the light and you immediately calm down.

“Hobie, you nearly gave me a heart attack! Where have you been!”

Hobie pulls his mask off and looks at you, and you immediately notice that his eyes seem unfocused.

“Sorry bout th’t love.”

He takes a step forward and promptly crumples to the ground.

You’re only frozen in shock for about 30 seconds, but it feels like ages. You rush forward and drop to your knees, attempting to scan him for injury.

“Hobie?? Oh my god what happened to you??”

Hobie groans and mutters something unintelligible. You immediately get to removing his leather vest and that’s when you see the blood seeping through his spidey suit. You suck in a sharp breath.

“Hobie, I’m gonna have to remove this so I can fix it okay? I know you don’t like hospitals so I’m going to stop the bleeding and see if I can fix this.”

You’re amazed that you don’t panic, as you carefully lift Hobie’s shoulders up towards you so you can peel the top half of his suit down until it hangs around his waist. Carefully leaning him back into a flat position on the floor you gulp. It’s a lot of blood. You’re hesitant to leave him but you have to grab the first aid kit and some towels from the bathroom. You run there and back and immediately press the towel to the gaping wound that stretches from his brusing ribs to his lower side of his stomach.

The minute you apply pressure his eyes fly open with a gasp and he tries to sit up.

“Hobie, Hobie stop” he looks panicked and disoriented. “It’s just me, love.” You adopt the nickname that he calls you hoping it’ll snap him back to reality.

It has the desired effect, and he winces as he slowly lays back down.

“That bloody hurts y’know th’t?”

“I know,” you look down at the towel which is thoroughly soaked through and replace it with the next one. “I can’t get the bleeding to stop,” your voice pitches up towards the end of the sentence showing how worried you are. “And I’m certain this needs stitches.”

Hobie peers at you, pain still clouding his vision. He manages to lift a hand and place it over yours. “No.. hmph, no hospitals.”

You sigh. What seems like hours (it was really only twenty minutes) you finally staunch the blood and prep for the stitches.

“This’ll be a bit painful innit.” Hobie phrased it like a question, but really it was a statement. You brushed the sweat from his forehead.

“It will. I’ll try to be as gentle as possible.”

You chew your bottom lip as you begin the sutures. Obviously you want to get it done as fast as possible, but it also has to be done right. With every pull you can feel Hobie tense up as he tries not to flinch.

His breathing is ragged so you try to distract him by getting him to talk.

“You know, I was worried when I hadn’t heard from you for a couple days. I know you don’t believe in consistency but I had a feeling something was wrong when you never checked in… how did this happen??”

Hobie squeezes his eyes shut as you pull the needle until this portion of the stitch is taut.

“Just the usual ‘azards that come wit being spidey,” he grits out.

You scoff. “Hobart Brown, in the last two years that I’ve known you, you’ve never even come home with a scratch.”

“We’ve had a bit of a multiverse crisis.. s’why I been gone for so long”

You hum in contemplation as you make your way through the last few stitches.

“What happened?”

You tie off the thread and disinfect the area again, as Hobie tells you all about Miles Morales and Miguel and The Spot.

“So these canon events happen to everyone?”

Hobie averts his eyes. “What of it?”

It seems like a touchy subject, so you decide to leave it alone. Just because your friends, doesn’t mean you’re entitled to know every little detail about him, just like he doesn’t know every little detail about you.

“C’mon.”

You help Hobie up off the floor, and lead him to your bed. His arm immediately crosses his middle holding his aching ribs. Hobie starts to protest, saying he’ll just head back to his flat.

“Hobie, please lay down. I want you here so I can make sure you don’t rip your stitches, and you’re not swinging to your place.”

“Aye I’ll do it, but not b’cause you told me to.”

Once he lays flat on his back you go change into some not blood soaked clothes. You decide to toss all bloody paraphernalia in the dumpster outside, so you slip on your sneakers. Not five minutes later, you’re perched on the edge of your bed.

“Miles seems like a good kid,” you say absentmindedly.

“‘e is, jus’ wanted to fit in wit the likes of us.”

You grab his hand. “I’m proud of you.”

He raises a pierced eyebrow at you. “For wha’?”

“Helping Miles try to stop this.” You rub your thumb across the back of his hand, the shock of finding Hobie the way you did starting to wear off, and a deep sense of unaddressed dread starting to set in.

Hobie shakes his head. “He betta stop ‘is event, or I got all a these stitches for nothin.”

Your thumb stops moving and you squeeze his hand.

“What does that mean?”

Hobie’s silence is VERY loud.

Finally the puzzle pieces start to click into place.

“Nothin’ love, I jus-“

“Hobart Brown, is this ridiculously deep laceration from Miguel O’Hara?”

Hobie winces at the deadly (deceiving) calm in your voice.

“Uh it’s possible-“

“I’m going to kill him myself.”

As if a higher power was listening to you, Hobie’s watch activated requesting he return to HQ.

“Perfect!”

“Love it’s prob’bly a trap-“

Too late. You reach across for his other wrist and slap the button that opens the portal. One minute you’re in your apartment, and the next you’re on your first interdimensional travel field trip, with Hobie right beside you.

———————————————————————————

Crossed Masterlist