Octobie Week 2 - Tumblr Posts

THIS WAS SO GOOD!!! You got me scared there for sec lol 😂

WEEK 2!!! WOOOOOOOOOOHHH

Movement

Pairing: Hobie Brown x gn! Reader/ Spider-Punk x gn! Reader

Word count: 3k

Summary: You see a familiar face during a protest.

Tags: No use of Y/N, no specific physical description of the reader, can be read as platonic, CW blood, TW violence, CW injury.

Octobie 🎸

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A/N: special thanks to @pleaktale and @thesevenofstaves!!

One second you were standing atop a cop car with your megaphone blasting while you yell at the armoured coppers below. People were rallying behind you with the same fervor you had, throat aching screams thrown at the opposition whilst banners and picket signs reign high. It was peaceful for the most part, there was no pushing or hitting on both ends, but then just one bright muzzle flash from the coppers, just one ego infested man with a gun was all it takes for chaos to reign.

Fire flies from above, curling its flames downward towards you and the crowd behind you.

With brave yells from your people that depicts all the hurt and anger for the corrupt and oppressive government— it became screams of terror as the kevlar-covered cowards marched forward. Pushing and shoving with their glimmering barrels pointed directly at them. The ear splitting sounds of gunfire and broken glass rings in your ears like a broken record. The air smells like ash and embers, and yet, your people don't back down from the violence brought about generations ago.

After a struggle, you stand arm and arm with them, you know every single face. On your right is your neighbour just across the street from your own place. And on your left is the bassist from a local band. All have stories to tell, and different lives lived, but you all stayed to fight for the same cause, to fight for what's right against the regime that never fought for you or the people who hold your arm in a tight yet shaking grip.

Smoke itches your eyes, soot covers your face as the coppers stand before you, armed to the teeth, wrapped in darkened armour against regular citizens bearing not a single weapon on them or kevlar covering their chest. Yet, they look at you behind their dark visors with fury and gritted teeth.

The car under your feet creaks as the fire cackles on the bridge, flames strategically scattered to keep you all away from your goal.

“Hold!” You yell, and everyone grips tightly to one another. One thousand strong, one thousand faces that are full of determination but with fear etched in their eyes.

Everyone has gathered to end tyranny with hope by their side as they assemble around the bridge that faces Osborn's building.

The armed men bring out their riot shields, banging it with their batons as if they would even need it when your side is the one left bleeding and burned.

You swallow thickly, inhaling the smoke filled air despite your mask as they march forward in their militaristic pace. Shields clang and boots thump simultaneously. You and everyone fighting for what's right holds on tight.

An impenetrable wall of defiance.

Glancing at the woman next to you, the same woman who watched you grow up before her very eyes— you falter when you see her tear stained cheeks.

“Hold on.” She says, palm sliding from your arm to your hand, squeezing you tightly.

You could only nod as you turned towards the marching. And in their eyes, you see fiery embers reflected, and you know they've broken the line drawn on the sand as a fire bomb comes whizzing upwards from somewhere in the tightly packed armour that quickly descends down on top of you.

You don't close your eyes nor let go, instead, you watch as the black ball twirls in the air— and for a moment, time stands still.

The weapon comes close to you until you can see the groves of the metal, and you see a reflection of yourself staring back with wide eyes.

Suddenly, as if fate itself willed you and your people to live another day— a web comes to existence, it's shaped like a hand grasping the bomb in its hold. And then as quickly as it came, it's gone in your sight as the stringy web tosses it back to where it came from.

An explosion blows you and the people around you backwards, throwing you off the car harshly. Eyes closed and arms raised in front of your face, your body doesn't hit the hard ground. An eruption blasts from up front, nearer this time, and you feel the heat of it above you. But you don't burn nor see the bright light behind your closed eyelids.

“I've got you.” A familiar voice says above you, strained and tired.

You open your eyes, and you see his gloved hand wrapped around your collar while he has flipped the car over to shield everyone from the bombs. All the while carrying the car with one hand, and at the same time saving everyone behind it.

“Holy shit, it's you!” The woman who was next to you says with hope. You turn to look at her laying on a soft laid out web to take the impact from her fall. “You okay?” Nodding briefly, you glance towards the others behind you, finding nothing but scratches and bruises on each of them as they help each other back on their feet.

You return your attention to his mask, it's ripped out from the side, suit singed and half burned, revealing his hazel eye to you. “I'm okay.” You repeat for him. Your hand bracelets around his wrist, thumb brushing along his pulse point, his heartbeat is fast, terrifyingly fast. “I'm okay, you can let me go.” You notice the scratches along his left leg, still fresh and oozing with crimson.

He sees your concerned look. “Fuckers had Rhino with them.” Smirking, he still has the energy to smile through the pain. “Now they don't. Sorry ‘m late.”

“And here I thought you were stuck in traffic.” You joke while he gently puts you down on the asphalt.

He exhales sharply with a gentle smile that you can see through his mask that tugs around the corners. “‘m ‘ere now, we can do this together.”

“Together.”

Spider-Man, you've known him for years. You run in the same crowd as him, and even befriended him after he saved you from a thug who stole a box of donations from your hands. After that, you two got close. Friends even. He volunteers at F.E.A.S.T whenever he can or when he has a quiet patrol, always wearing his spiked costume, guitar at the ready but not without a smile hidden underneath his mask. He's either helping out with the kids, or with dinner in the kitchen with you and the others that always ends up with laughter. You're thankful for him and what he has given to the community, but right now as he holds up the car on his back with increasing weakness from his injuries, he's the one who needs everyone's help.

“We need to help him! Hold!” You stand up, a bit wobbly on your feet but once you place your shoulder against the heated metal, a new fire sets a blaze inside everyone's hearts.

Everyone behind you and the leather clad vigilante pushes the car down strenuously. With all the help gathered, the car crashes down on the road with its windows shattered and its once blue paint burned to darkened ashes. Flames still lick from under it, embers curling at your boots as he pushes you back and right next to him.

“Do you have a plan?” You ask, fists clenched.

“Thought you had one?” He teases.

A ghost of a smile passes by your lips. But before you could reply to him, he leaps up into the air and over the burning car. Landing effortlessly, he stands to his full height with his cherry red guitar slung over his back. You can see the sticker you contributed on the guitar, it's a rainbow peace sign that sits next to a pair of boots. He once joked about it being too on the nose, which you then threw a chopped carrot at his mask. You still remember how the whites of his mask widend before he fought back with a piece of crumpled tissue thrown at your cheek.

Your heartbeat thumps loudly against your chest, a thudding sound akin to the beat of war drums. He seems to hear it as he looks over his shoulder and through the blazing fire just to gaze at you. Flames dance in the reflection of his brilliant eyes, orange hues twisting and curling around his form as you meet with his eyes. One masked and one that reveals himself to you. He looks other worldly in your vision as the flames seem to embrace him fully in all his spikes and leather. It doesn't singe him nor eat and burn away at him, it's as if he's used to the flames.

For one moment, you saw his very soul bared to you.

“Take cover,” is the only thing he said to you.

Turning back around, facing an entire army of armed men, he takes his guitar from his back. The same guitar he plays for the children at F.E.A.S.T, the same guitar he once taught you how to play a few chords of. And it'll be the same guitar that will put an end to years of tyranny.

He raises his arm, the silver pick in between his fingers shining in the firelight. In that moment, fire could bring hope too, not just to destroy, but to rebuild what has been destroyed.

Breath staggered in your throat, you covered your ears. Unable to look away from him. Running footsteps muffled under your palms, wind rushing towards you like a gust of hurricane. And with no time to take cover, you kneel down, cowering behind the car just as when a bright light appears in your vision. The loud guitar riff splits the ground, almost bursting your eardrums. Then the light from the blast blinds you into unconsciousness from the sheer power he alone emanated.

—

You crack open your eyes to blue skies, and the rough pavement scratching from under you. There's still smoke in the air, and shattered glass all over the ground. Your ears ring, eyes hazy as you blink away the white spots dancing in your iris. A warm hand wraps around your bicep, voice fading in and out as it calls for you.

Turning your head towards the voice, you see an old friend staring back at you. “M-May? What happened?” Your voice is hoarse like you've inhaled a pack of cigarettes worth of smoke.

“You blacked out—”

“Where is he?” You remember what transpired. Panic sets in your heavy chest, remembering how he stood alone in front of many. You should've helped him, done more despite your lack of special abilities unlike his own. Tears well up in your eyes as you see what's in front of you.

A dark ashen car, or what's left of it still sits in the middle of the bridge. Scorch marks in the shape of sun rays are left burned on the asphalt. But you don't see him anywhere, not even a sign that he was right there in front of you was left behind. You see that you're a few ways behind the car than before, maybe someone helped you, or you flew back from the blast. You don't care enough to know when he could be hurt, or worse.

You grab her arms desperately, chest heaving, hands trembling. “Is he okay?” Her mouth parts but the sound of determined shouts echo from the front of the bridge. You squint your eyes to see clearer with hope that you get to see him within the gathering crowd.

Your entire faction lays waste to Osborn's gilded tower. His men have left him, and some have either surrendered or fled by jumping over the bridge and into the freezing waters. Windows break, and fire breaks out on the other side. But your banners fly high above it all. His oppressive regime is gone, and the people have triumphed.

You've won, but where is he?

“May,” you stagger up to your feet despite her protests. You now notice that you and May aren't the only people left on the bridge. In the far end, there's a small crowd circling around something. Or someone. “Is h–he?” Someone moves to the left and you see his iconic boots on the floor, unmoving. “No!”

“You need to rest! You hit your head—!” She holds your arm, but your adrenaline pushes you to tug away from her careful grasp.

“He's hurt!” You wobble towards the crowd, with every step feels like you're walking on hot coals as pain flares up around your ankle. “He needs h–help.” Weakly, you push people to make way. May surrenders and lets you go, even helping you move past the crowd.

“He looks like he's the same age as my son.” Someone said tearfully.

“He's just a kid.” A woman utters regretfully.

“Why aren't you helping him?!” You yell at them, yanking your mask away to breathe properly.

Slowly, you see pieces of him. Someone seems to hold his hand, the spider on his chest is now all tattered, revealing angry marks on his skin. Gasping, you finally make it to his side, and you fall to your knees harshly.

“What are we going to do now?” One asks through a broken tone.

You give him a once over, his suit is marred by dark ashes. The bright hue of the spandex is no more. Eyes roaming up, you see his unmasked face. There's no trace of the mask left anywhere on his face. From his jaw up to his brows, it all seems familiar. You cry when you realize who he is.

“H–Hobie?” You've known him far longer than you thought.

The same old woman who was next to you lets go of his hand and places it atop your own. His skin is cold.

You shake your head with tears in your eyes. “I should've known, you idiot.” All the days that he disappeared from your side, it all pieces back together to this moment.

Sliding your hand down to his wrist, you tearfully kiss his knuckles. Guilt eats at you, you wish that he'd open his eyes once again and everything will be alright. “We did it,” you whisper against his skin. “We did it so please wake up so you can see.” You hold his hand against your chest, careful not to aggravate his injuries whilst trying to warm him up.

You feel his pulse thump quietly against your thumb. Hope ignites within you. “Hobie?” Scooching closer, you place your ear atop his chest. Closing your eyes, you hear his heartbeat. “He's alive!” You perk up, grinning in astonishment. Looking up at everyone, you instruct them. “Go get a doctor, a nurse or whoever—!”

“You're loud.” His gravelly voice cuts you off, hand closing around your own slowly.

Your neck snaps towards him lightning quick, gasping at his tired yet awake expression. “I–I should say that to you with your fucking guitar blast. I swear it was nuclear energy.”

“Nah, not even close.” He weakly grasps your hand as cheers erupt around you. “I would know, love.”

“You were on the brink of death and you're still cheeky.” Your wobbling lips peck each of his warming fingers.

His hazel eyes glimmer in the sun, a smile etched on his lips. “We did it?”

You nod, “we did, because of you.”

“I only helped a bit.”

“A bit?!” Someone answers for you. You recognize him as the guy who owns the local convenience store. “You have no idea, son. You're the spark that we needed.”

Hobie chuckles, but winces when a wave of pain washes over him. “I think I broke a rib, or several.”

“Someone already ran to get you help, Hobie.” You say as you loom over him, hand gently cupping his cheek.

His eyes widen for a second before softening. “I take it my mask is gone?”

“More like disintegrated.” You joke light-heartedly. “Your secret’s safe with us, don't worry.”

He reaches for the back of your hand, fingers still shaking but once he holds your hand properly, the trembling stops. His eyes look at you tenderly above the haze of pain. All the aches and gashes he attained are nothing compared to the satisfaction of triumph.

“I trust you.” He whispers to you, thumb brushing along your own pulse point. Sighing, he glances towards the crowd looking on. “I don't trust that bloke though.”

The same man who answered him before guffaws loudly. Everyone follows suit with their own amused laughter.

“I'll keep your secret, Spider-Man.” May says next to you. “My nephew needs someone like you around. I'd like to keep it that way.”

Hobie nods appreciatively at her.

“Same here,” the convenience store man says, fist placed above his heart. “I'll take it to my grave, son.”

Voices echo around the bridge as every person in that crowd promises the same thing.

Hobie grins despite his cut lip, locking eyes with you as ambulance sirens can be heard a few blocks away. He grips tighter around your hand, warmth fully coming back to his body.

“Thank you,” you sniff, your hands never letting him go as tears ebb away from his shining eyes. Taking your mask from your neck, you offer it to him before the ambulance gets to the bridge.

Hobie reaches for it, bunching it up in his grip, eyes never leaving your own. With a nod from him, you help him put it on before everyone helps him get in the ambulance. All the while never leaving him as he silently asks you to stay with him all the way. And you wordlessly promise to him that you'll never leave as long as he wants you to stay by his side.

Custom banners by @mushroom-graphics-allotment

Support banner by @/cafekitsune

Eat the Rich

OCTOBIE WEEK 2!!! YEAAHHHHHHHHH

I am LOVING this event everyone's work is sooo good.

Please check out @the-kr8tor ‘s octobie event!!!

banners by @mushroom-graphics-allotment

References

OCTOBIE WEEK 2!!! YEAAHHHHHHHHH

I am LOVING this event everyone's work is sooo good.

Please check out @the-kr8tor ‘s octobie event!!!

banners by @mushroom-graphics-allotment

References

octobie week 2: anarchy (ft. blobie)

non shading/slightly alt versions below cut

changed hobie's costume a lil and i kinda like this better ngl

event: @the-kr8tor

banner(s): @mushroom-graphics-allotment

refs/inspo:

full disclosure i did trace far left but it saved me a tonna time, so ¯\_(ツ)_/¯