anticomedygarden

[anticomedygarden]

memory of you part 2

read on ao3 | part 1

Do you remember your 17th birthday party? After your cousins left, MJ and I spent the night. You put your phone in a red Solo cup for a shitty speaker, and we played Cards Against Humanity until the sun came up. It's not as fun playing against a computer.

-

If his grades were anything to go by, Ned Leeds was pretty damn smart, but the more important thing was that he had common sense. It was because of this that when MJ told him not to tell Betty about Weird Coffee Guy, he zipped his lips and threw the key out the fourth floor English classroom window. Then he promptly forgot anything was weird until eighth hour when Betty slapped her phone down on his desk and said, "Who is this kid?"

After very nearly answering on autopilot, he stammered out an, "I don't know," and even managed to hold out through the rest of Betty's interrogation until class started. He then spent the next hour clenching his jaw so hard it probably looked like he had tetanus and pointedly not looking at Betty's suspicious glances because, wow, he was not pulling this 'play it cool' thing off. At one point, he was pretty sure she mouthed, I know you know something, to him, but the joke was on her because he was obsessively checking the clock and definitely not paying attention to his ex girlfriend. Lightly shaking, he bolted the second the bell rang.

MJ was waiting for him on the front steps.

"Hey," he said. "What the hell? Why can't I tell Betty Weird Coffee Guy's name?" He had a hard time not blurting things out to begin with, let alone lying to his cool ex girlfriend.

MJ's brown eyes flashed. "She wants to know too bad."

Ned rolled his eyes at her and thanked his lucky stars that they were close enough friends now for her not to kill him. "Seriously?"

Her weirdly intense gaze shut him right up. "Seriously. There's clearly something deeper going on, and I want to find out what it is before Betty. I don't trust her."

"You don't trust anyone," he said automatically before a slow smile spread across his face. "Wait, does that mean you trust me?"

Her twitched. "Obviously."

"Aw-"

"Come on, we gotta go interrogate Peter."

Yeah, yeah. He knew a segue when he heard it.

When Peter walked into the donut shop, Ned took one look at his shirt and grinned. "I see you like Star Wars."

He looked confused for a moment before glancing down at his shirt. "Yeah, it's the best."

Ha. And MJ though he was just an awkward nerd.

He was too busy congratulating himself on a social interaction triumph to see the girl roll her eyes at him across the room where she was restocking cups. "Which one's your favorite?" he asked Peter.

He grinned. "Empire."

"Same."

Suddenly next to them, MJ cleared her throat, giving Ned a pointed look. "Did you know that George Lucas stole a lot of lore and plot from Dune?"

Ned actually did know that because MJ had used it on him before. However, he still would have wilted, both at the disappointing defilement of a precious childhood memory and at having to table his discussion with Peter, had the other boy not looked absolutely thrilled. Seriously, MJ could have just told him he'd won a million dollars and he would not have been able to smile any wider. Ned kinda wanted to take a picture. It wasn't everyday he saw someone overjoyed by the news that their favorite film franchise was a ripoff of a book series about the dangers of blindly following political and religious figures.

Of course, the brightness in his face was immediately dimmed by MJ's next remark: "Where do you go to school, Peter?"

He paused for a solid 15 seconds before mumbling, "I'm homeschooled."

Need didn't need a seminar on non verbal cues to realize that Peter was lying through his teeth.

However, MJ might have needed a seminar on tactful communication because she wasted no time on stating "You're a terrible liar," leaving Ned to bemoan any budding relationship with his Star Wars buddy. The dude was already a mysterious flight risk; calling him out like this would only scare him away.

Ned made the executive decision that it would be best for him to ask the next question. "You know, you've never told us your last name. Do you have one, or are you like Cher?"

"Oh, it's P-" he paused for another long minute. "It's P."

MJ's eyes narrowed further. "Like the vegetable?"

He blinked. "Nope, just the letter." The poor boy must have realized how ridiculous that sounded because his face turned bright red, and be started fidgeting with his hands.

Ned almost laughed at him. "So your name is Peter P?"

The brown haired boy looked down at his shoes, and Ned really did laugh at him then because when he looked back up, he had the same expression on his face as Mr. Harrington did the time the AcaDec team convinced their bus driver to take them to Denny's after a five hour conference. Like he was praying for death but knew he'd have to deal with the consequences before God took mercy on him. "Yup. That's me. Peter P."

Perhaps sending that they weren't getting anything else out of him name wise - after all, who would stick to a bit that stupid without a good reason - MJ switched tactics and went for the big, burning question: "You ever heard of Midtown School of Science and Technology?"

The poor guy played with the string of his dark green hoodie, biting his lip as his face slowly lost all color. "No."

MJ's eyes narrowed, and Ned knew it was all over. "'Cause I saw a picture of you today in the Midtown Tech library from before the Blip."

Wow. Ned didn't know a face could turn that shade of grey. "Uh, I don't-"

For a second, Ned thought that Peter cut himself off to avoid saying something he didn't want revealed, which honestly made sense; Peter had already proven that his lying skills were doing nothing for him, and Ned could relate. His big mouth had gotten him in some pretty big trouble, too. He'd been grounded for months after he told a chaperone at homecoming in freshman year that he was on the library computers looking at porn even though he'd just been following the car chase Spiderman was in at the time. He still wasn't sure why he hadn't just told the truth. Then at least he'd just be a nerd instead of a pervert nerd.

Then, the other boy's head jerked to the window just as a fire truck raced by, sirens blaring and lights strobing. Was that why he stopped talking? Had Peter heard it from that far away? Damn, if the kid shut up that fast every time he heard a siren, he must barely ever say anything. They lived in New York.

For some reason, Ned's brain protested strongly at that assessment of the boy.

"I have to go," Peter said suddenly, awkwardly pointing out the window as if that explained anything. Maybe he was a pyromaniac. That would fit.

Across the counter, MJ caught Ned's eyes, clearly trying to convey panic. After a second, he understood. This might have been their last chance to talk to Peter since their interrogation failed so badly.

"Hey, Peter," Ned said and turned. But Peter was already gone, the door banging shut behind him.

-

Do you remember when you called me and Ned your first friends? You were both of our second. Your weird fit right in with our weird.

It was an honor to be loved by you, however briefly.

-

Michelle Jones liked to think that she was pretty smart, so when Betty Brant showed her a picture of Peter Parker, or as she'd taken to calling him, Weird Coffee Boy, or as she'd taken to calling him in the privacy of her mind, guy that gave her really scary but good and balanced feelings but not in a crush way more like a favorite book kind of way and she didn't know why, seated next to her in her own school library from two years before the Blip, she knew something was up, and when something was up, old habits died hard. There was no way she was sharing this until she could agonize over it and prepare for the fallout. She kept her trap shut, and she told Ned to keep his shut, too. Shockingly, Ned managed it.

Then, they interrogated him at the coffee shop, learned nothing except that Peter was a terrible liar, and watched him book it out of the place toward the sound of sirens. She took one look at Ned, yelled toward the manager's office, "I'm taking my break!", and then they took off after him.

The bastard had already vanished by the time they got outside, but MJ caught a flash of red and blue swinging over the top of the nearest high rise, and everything in her said, him. For possibly the first time in her life, she didn't think and just ran.

Trying to keep the bright figure in her peripheral, she tore through the streets, dodging pedestrians and flying through puddles of god knows what. She thought she was doing pretty good - jumping over the railroad, skating past boardwalk, passing go, collect two hundred dollars! Then, she turned a corner, and he was just - gone. Completely absent from the skyline, and MJ was left panting, bent over her knees and starkly aware of her sports ineptitude. Again, this was why she was at a school for nerds.

"MJ!" Ned screamed from several feet behind her, also panting. "MJ, Peter was gone, like, seven blocks ago. Where are you going?"

"I-" she started, slightly winded and completely bereft of a decent explanation. This is why she liked to observe before drawing conclusions because all she could come up with was: "Spiderman!", paired with what was probably the worst case of crazy eyes fucking ever and a finger pointed toward where she last saw the sticky jerk merrily swinging away.

Ned's eyes narrowed in confusion, but he still said, "Okay. Yeah. Spiderman. Um. Queen's favorite masked crime fighter. Appeared about three years ago and has been the scourge of muggers and super villains alike. Been seen with Iron Man before he, you know, kicked the bucket or whatever-"

"I know that!" she screamed when she finally caught her breath and only felt a little bad when Ned stumbled back a couple steps. "He knows something about Peter!"

"Oh." Ned looked a little lost, which was fair. "How do we know that?"

"I don't know!" she shouted in frustration. God. Fucking boy scouts. She wanted to be prepared, but the only evidence she had was the feeling of an industrial strength magnet pulling her toward the sound of sirens.

Sirens! They could follow the sound of sirens. Why the hell had she not come up with that earlier? Sirens were a far more reliable cue than a goddamn arachnid themed vigilante.

Also reliable was the giant plume of smoke twisting over the buildings between them and the sirens.

This was so stupid. She was gonna get burned alive. She was gonna give herself smoke inhalation related respiratory diseases. She was gonna get Ned hurt.

She was gonna find out what the fuck was up with Spider-Man and Weird Coffee Guy, boy that gave her really scary but good and balanced feelings but not in a crush way more like a favorite book kind of way and she didn't know why. She needed to know why.

She looked back at Ned and took a deep breath, then reassured herself that they had both taken AP Psych the year before. "I don't know why, but I have a really strong feeling that Spider-Man is related to Peter. Maybe I have source amnesia or something, but it really really feels like an implicit memory. Like so strong it's practically explicit if I could just figure out what is connecting them, but I don't think I can do that without talking to Spider-Man."

Maybe she was wrong, and yeah, maybe source amnesia was ruining media literacy. But she didn't think she had ever felt something so strongly before, and the strongest memories were associated with extreme emotional upheaval, the kind a person just couldn't get from scrolling through social media.

This was not a baseless belief spurned by click bait. This was something she should know with her entire heart and brain, something that brought her comfort and thrill and love and grief, something that was stolen from her and never given back. She wanted it. She wanted to know. She didn't care if she got hurt.

Whatever it was must have shown on her face because Ned said, in an upsettingy soft tone, "Okay. I trust you. Let's go find Spider-Man."

Her shoulders collapsed in relief, and she couldn't believe she was actually worried about Ned not wanting to chase a superhero.

What she actually should have been worried about, apparently, was a little grey convertible frantically following behind her through the crowded afternoon streets of Queens carrying an extremely persistent teenage journalist and everyone's favorite schoolyard bully.

The car screeched to a stop partway on the sidewalk, narrowly missing a trashcan and a tree. Hanging halfway over the passenger side door, Betty Brant blew a strand of straw colored hair out of her mouth and said, "Get in, losers, we're going stalking."

[anticomedygarden]

memory of you

Four students at Midtown School of Science and Technology start a car chase with Spider-Man. Only problem? Spider-Man doesn't know that he is part of a car chase.

read on ao3

-

Do you remember when we used to study together? I sat behind you in English and calculus. You explained As I Lay Dying to me, and I taught you differentials.

-

Betty Brant was no idiot. By her junior year of high school, she had made it into a prestigious STEM school despite her liberal arts future, she had gotten an internship with an up and coming newspaper that put a focus on accountability, she had won half a dozen awards for her work in her school's journalism club, she had been accepted into all the top schools of journalism and earned the scholarships to pay for it, and she had helped Spider-Man defeat Mysterio.

But no matter how hard she thought about that trip from hell, she could not figure out why she was around Spider-Man in the first place.

And she could not for the life of her remember the name of the kid in this photo.

It was a stupid picture, just her and the academic decathlon team goofing around after she interviewed them for her article on their win (and the attack on the Lincoln Memorial, but the school hadn't let her publish that one). They were sitting around a table in the library, Liz Allan next to her and the rest of them scattered around, and Betty knew each and every one of them, even the ones not in her class. In fact, Betty would bet she could name every person in their school if asked. Her memory was excellent.

But this kid.

She had no fucking clue.

And despite not knowing who he was, Betty got the strong impression that he was someone important - maybe not important to her, but important.

Brown curls sat wildly over a face still round from childhood (probably freshman or a younger sophomore - that put him way too close to her own age for her not to know him), brown eyes crinkled from his deep smile cutting through pale skin, and speaking of cuts - there were several dusting his whole body, butterfly bandages doing a poor job of hiding the little red scrapes. The rest of the team had little injuries like that, too, but not as many as him. Honestly, she felt the need to find him if only to ensure he wasn't being abused.

Scouring the school website and social media pages did nothing. Flipping through her yearbooks, even staring at the Academic Decathlon club picture like a damn Where's Waldo puzzle yielded no results. It was like the kid in the picture was a ghost.

She hadn't even been looking for this photo. It just happened to randomly pop up in her Snapchat memories. Look what you were doing seven years ago! Because apparently Meta didn't factor the Blip into their little nostalgia reels. And now it was fucking torturing her.

The next day at school, Betty cornered MJ in their first period, biology. The other girl was sitting at her desk in the back of the room reading, hiding from the too loud morning masses behind her long wavy hair. Betty almost felt bad disturbing her, but if anyone knew him, it would be MJ. Her memory was even better than Betty's, and she was AcaDec captain, although not the year of Mystery Boy's picture.

"Good morning," she said brightly. Always a good place to start. "Do you know this kid?" She shoved her phone in MJ's face over the book. Her mother would be horrified at her total disregard for manners. Whatever. Nice people didn't make headlines.

Not expecting Betty's early morning interrogation, MJ flinched backward, then scrunched her face in focus. Betty didn't blame her. It was pretty zoomed in.

Even so, the blonde knew the exact moment MJ recognized the guy because her eyes got super wide. Score. A good journalist always knows who to ask.

"What's it to you?" MJ asked - no, ordered.

Betty could have slapped herself. Of course MJ wouldn't give her a straight answer. (She made a mental note to figure out how MJ asked questions so commandingly. It would be helpful for her future.) "I can't remember who he is, and I remember everyone."

Some unknown emotion flashed across MJ's face (frustration, annoyance, longing? it was so hard to tell with her), and she said, "Well, I don't either."

That was a bald faced lie, Betty was sure of it.

She brought her phone back to herself and zoomed out, thinking maybe adding the memory to the face would help. "How about now?"

Betty didn't have to look at the picture anymore to know exactly what the other girl's eyes were scanning. She had it memorized.

First, her eyes would be drawn to Liz Allan. Because of the memories. And the trauma.

Next to Liz was MJ herself, book open in front of her and a small smile on her face. Mystery Boy was next to MJ, but the interesting part was how close he was to Ned Leeds. He was sideways in his chair and leaning back against Ned's. You could just see Ned's face around Mystery Boy's shoulder. Cindy Moon sat at the end of the table, then in order, Sally Avril, Charles Murphy, Abe Brown, Flash Thompson, and Mr. Harrington, then Betty standing up to take the selfie at the head of the table.

"That's still a no, but it looks like Leeds might." Smooth lie, then misdirection. She was good, Betty had to admit, but not good enough because this guy's memory had settled into the back of her brain like an itch, and she'd be damned if she didn't scratch 'til she bled.

"Right, but I'm asking you," she insisted. "And I don't have a class with Ned until eighth hour."

MJ narrowed her eyes, and, wow, Betty really needed to perfect that look. That was a look that demanded truth. "Do you not have his phone number or socials?"

"Why are you avoiding the question?" Fuck. Too confrontational, she was starting to get loud. MJ's face snapped shut like a Venus fly trap.

The other girl sat back in her chair cooly. Great. Betty definitely wasn't getting answers out of her now. "I think it's time for you to sit down."

Betty took the cue, but vowed to keep on.

Betty did not have Ned's phone number, and his socials were all private. This was particularly unfortunate because the next class she had with AcaDec members was English, third period. The good news was that she did still have Liz's number, so she fired off a text with the picture attached during second period.

It was a writing day in English, a bit more good luck since Betty was already done with her essay (she wrote a stunning exposé on cafeteria food as a seventh grader - a character essay on Jay Gatsby was a walk in the park). She did get a couple odd looks when she sat with Charles, Abe, and Cindy instead of her normal spot at the front table, but that wasn't her problem. She got the picture set up on her phone and placed it against her laptop screen so that the teacher couldn't see it, then she tapped Cindy on the shoulder and quietly repeated her question for what she was sure would be only the second time of many. "Do you know this kid?"

That was all it took to draw Cindy's attention away from her essay - oh, no, that was minesweeper. Well. "I-" she paused. "I don't think so? I don't know, he looks really familiar."

Betty nodded, then zoomed the picture back out. "What about now?"

If anything, Cindy looked even more confused. Eventually, she shook her head. "It's so weird. I feel like his name is on the tip of my tongue."

"Right?" Betty agreed. "I feel like I know him, but any time I try to think about it, it's like a mental block."

Cindy nodded, brows furrowed. "His name starts with an S maybe?" She jumped a little in her seat. "Hey, I don't know why, but I think Flash might know something? Try him."

Betty nodded and added both points to her list, then got similar answers from Charles and Abe. It wasn't much, but it was a start.

When Betty Brant was 11, Loki and the chitauri attacked New York City. She was fine and so were all her people, but there was a city full people that weren't right outside her door. She saw it in the eyes of her friends that lost family members, the missing seats in class, the destruction of her city - everywhere, there was evidence of pain. It lit a fire under her ass that she - and her parents - still couldn't explain.

She read article after article about the invasion, got all the different perspectives, taught herself the difference between credible and bullshit, and then she interviewed her classmates that were hit the hardest and used that testimony to get a week off school for mental health days. Her classmates hailed her as a hero.

A few years later, the Black Widow dumped all of SHIELD's secrets online, and she read every last piece. Then, she wrote an essay on corruption and government overreach to submit to a national journal. The essay became much more robust after the Sokovia Accords.

She'd written pieces on Wanda Maximoff. She had debated the ethics of Daredevil and Iron Man and the Hulk. She wrote in favor of Bucky Barnes when his truth came out.

But there was a file on her computer labeled 'Spider-Man' with nothing in it, and it was less than a year old. She didn't remember making it. Worse, she didn't remember why she felt the need to write an article on Spider-Man, hero of Queens. The only person who didn't like him was J. Jonah Jameson, and he was a bad journalist if Betty ever saw one. It didn't make sense.

But she currently had two distinct memory lapses, and she knew they were connected.

And so the fire burned brighter.

-

Do you remember when I outscored you by one point on a physics test when I started Midtown, and you decided right then and there to hate me, the prodigal kid on scholarship? That's okay. I know now that you had your own problems. I almost miss it sometimes. The only bullying I get now is from my boss.

-

Flash wasn't stupid, but he had enough gaps in his memory from alcohol and generally poor self care that not knowing the kid Betty basically interrogated him on could almost be explained.

But alcohol couldn't explain the bone deep envy he felt when he saw the kid, or that the word that floated to the front of his mind was 'penis' of all things.

Like. Why? Did he have a crush on the kid before he apparently disappeared from their lives forever? Did they actually fuck? Did they have an unfortunate encounter in the locker room? Was he one of the people he sent a dick pic to on that sad, lonely, high night last year? He didn't know because he couldn't freaking remember, and he definitely wasn't telling Betty that his first thought when looking at the guy was (his maybe impressive? Seriously, where was the jealousy coming from?) genitals.

And why did that make him feel guilty? Ugh.

And to think, two minutes ago, he was about to step into the cafeteria to eat shitty pizza with the assholes on the football team. Now, he was stuck in the hallway outside it thinking about the dick size of a stranger.

"No, I have no idea who that is," he said, and felt uncharacteristically bad when Betty's face fell.

"What about now?" she responded, and then it got so much weirder.

The whole AcaDec team, including Flash, were in the picture in a moment he actually did remember, but he definitely didn't remember that kid being there.

Or did he?

The next thing he knew, images were flashing through his mind of this lame ass kid, visions of AcaDec practices, classes, moments from the Europe field trip, even a party at Liz Allan's house, seemingly random except that all of them were accompanied by that same jealousy he'd felt before, so intense it kinda made him uncomfortable.

And then he was thinking 'penis' again, although this time it was clear that it wasn't in a horny way or, like, anatomical. It felt like a name, like it was in the same brain space as 'mother' or 'asshat'.

"Uh..." he said intelligently. "Maybe?"

"Maybe?" Betty repeated, frowning in annoyance. "How do you maybe know someone?"

After a second, he shrugged, not knowing how to explain without it getting very awkward very quickly. And if he was gonna think about a flood of altered memories, it was gonna be in the safety of his bedroom where he could have a breakdown.

There was also the fact that he was starting to get the feeling that he wasn't very nice to this guy when they knew each other, which, honestly, kinda tracked. He knew he wasn't the nicest person before senior year, but ever since that one day in October when he'd been making fun of Leeds for - something - and couldn't even figure out why, he'd been making an effort to not be a dick. If he was gonna be a dick, he at least wanted to have a reason, even if it was just a vibe, and this kid was giving him all sorts of vibes. Not necessarily bad in a worldly sense, but bad to Flash. He did not like this guy, and it wasn't just because he reminded him of a time he was really not proud of.

Betty's sharp voice shook him from his thoughts. "Is there anything you can tell me?"

No. Nope. Absolutely not. Thankfully, he was saved by a text flashing across the top of Betty's screen.

Liz Allan

I don't think I know him, but I'm getting a real bad feeling from him. Sorry

Wasn't that just dandy? Both Flash and possibly the nicest person in the world didn't like someone they didn't even know.

Oh god, what if he was involved with alien weapon smuggling with Liz's dad and used the tech he'd stolen to erase their memories?

Now he had to know.

"Hey," he said, officially accepting that he wasn't getting lunch today, "why don't you search for his face?"

Betty's brows furrowed. "What, like a reverse image search? I don't think that would work on my own photo."

Flash snapped his mouth shut before he said something rude. "Send it to me."

She cocked her head but did it anyway, and a second later, both their jaws had dropped.

"Holy shit," Betty breathed. "That's Tony Stark."

Flash didn't know why, but his first thought was, No, it's not. His second thought was, Must be Photoshop. His third thought was, Goddamn that Penis Parker.

His fourth thought was, Where the hell did that come from?

Not wanting to betray his internal turmoil, he said tentatively, "Are we sure that's real?"

Betty glared at him, but he thought the question was reasonable. This photo was the only result his search had come up with. "Of course it's real. That's way too good to be fake. Besides, who would make the certificate upside down like that on purpose?"

Flash looked closer and, sure enough, the certificate was upside down. That paired with the fancy cursive script made it impossible to read the name, yet that didn't stop Flash's suddenly strong urge to call the internship certificate fake.

This problem was quickly veering from weird communal mental lapse to 'I need to make a quick call to my therapist so that they can assure me I'm not losing my mind.' Besides finding the guy to get the truth out of him, that seemed the most logical course of action.

"Is there a source for the image?" Betty asked.

That would have been a good idea, except when Flash clicked the external link, it took him to the '404 URL not found' page.

Betty made a strange noise, somewhere between a frustrated groan and a confused 'huh.' Sounded like she needed to call her therapist, too. "How does a kid who is apparently our age, if not younger, meet Tony Stark, go to our school and make an impression on all of us, then disappear off the face of the Earth and take his name with him?"

Flash shook his head, stumped. "Maybe he's a criminal, and he took himself off the grid?"

He always forgot how expressive Betty was until she was glaring at him. "And took himself out of our minds? No, something weird is going on here." She gasped. "Maybe it's magic."

"What? No, that's insane." Then he thought about it. Really, the only other option was they were all hit with some mad Winter Soldier type mind wipe. Somehow, that was weirder. "Holy shit, maybe it's magic."

Betty nodded, glad to finally be getting somewhere. "We need to talk to Ned and MJ."

[anticomedygarden]

for the pjo, do you have any headcanons on Magnus and Annabeth’s friendship? Or a fic of them getting to relax and take a break from their stressful lives (deaths??)

idk I just love the idea of Magnus being treated to the chaos that is pjo and Annabeth hearing about mc

yes i love it!

i think it takes a while for magnus to get fully introduced to annabeth's whole life of chaos because they make an effort to meet halfway so he doesn't really believe everything she tells him at first because there is no way that's all true

when he does start seeing it with his own eyes, he gets super stressed thinking his life is gonna get even crazier than it already is

he is constantly ready to throw down with frederick chase. he trusts annabeth when she says they're trying to maintain a relationship, but the second freddie steps out of line, magnus is ready to beat his ass. so is alex. and jack.

when annabeth starts learning how to cook, percy makes magnus try everything first because 'he's already dead, it can't hurt him'. alex is surprisingly down to try annabeth's questionable food. turns out that once you've eaten your depressed talking goat friend, fear around food mostly goes away.

when annabeth hears the otis and marvin story, she silently decides it is going to be a very long time before magnus meets grover

this doesn't have anything to do with annabeth, but the first few times he meets sally, it makes him really upset because she reminds him of his mom

magnus is kinda disturbed the first time he's caught up in a monster attack with annabeth and percy because they went from joking and casual to silently communicating plans and taking the monster down in seconds. he is upset that his cousin had to learn to be this way, but he is also afraid that one day that will be him and alex. alex thinks it's hot.

once annabeth introduces him to her other friends, magnus finds out he is not above guilt tripping his cousin's rich friends into funding the chase space or giving to the homeless. when magnus, alex, and leo join forces, rachel nearly maxes out her credit card.

one time one of the gods stopped annabeth mid conversation with magnus for a really stupid quest and magnus is flabbergasted. he's like, "your gods just do that??" and she's like, "yours don't??"

i think percy and alex would be weirdly good friends. not sure if for good or evil. but definitely friends.

frank and alex not getting each other's brand of shape shifting but still bonding over it. like frank's is almost always a manifestation of anxiety while alex's is a way to take control of her/his life, but does that stop them from seeing who can open the most jars as a gorilla? hell no

alex being absolutely infatuated with blackjack and vice versa

magnus hearing about all of the various feuds between the greek gods and being like, "why don't they just not spend so much time together or stick their noses into each other's business?" because iirc the norse gods mainly stick to their domains but it seems like the olympians spend a lot of time on olympus and annabeth just laughs and laughs

jack rates annabeth's friends on their weapons. personality, appearance, effectiveness, etc. he has a whole system that magnus gets to hear. constantly. (riptide is the perpetual favorite)

[anticomedygarden]

you guys. should send in asks. to me or my fic sideblog @anticomedygarden. about pjo or life or whatever. pls.

[anticomedygarden]

@chadams @kaymardsa @forrpercyy @aficionadoenthusiast Please spread this around!

[anticomedygarden]

Trick or treat 🧡🖤

🍫 Happy Halloween!

Here's the first sentence of my (hopefully) next whumptober fic:

There was an unspoken rule at Camp Halfblood: don't get hurt on August 18.

[anticomedygarden]

ask box trick-or-treat (fic writer edition)

Send an ask with "Trick or treat!" to the writer who reblogged this & you could receive a 3-sentence fic, drabble, headcanon, sneak-peek at a WIP, the last sentence they wrote, a new fic idea, random line from a fic, picture of their notebook, a deleted line they love, an idea for a sequel, something they're researching, behind-the-scenes info on a published fic, or something else!

happy halloween!

reblog to welcome trick-or-treaters to your inbox! 🕸️🦇

[anticomedygarden]

for AI-less whumptober....

WHITE ROOM for alt list. If you wanna.

(literally any pairing bc I trust your ship judgment skills the maximum amount tbt)

😁 love it! no ships but i think you'll like this...i really hope

tw slight blood and gore, mentioned suicide

Luke Castellan and how he realized the fight he got wasn't the fight he wanted.

@ailesswhumptober ao3 link

-

Luke never meant for more demigods to be killed. It's actually the reason he started on this journey. No more dead kids. No more neglected kids. No more abused kids. Shouldn't be too hard, right?

Wrong. Turns out when both sides' main fighters are child soldiers, kids die, especially when their parents are deadbeat gods. Maybe that shoulda been obvious, but hey. When a mysterious all powerful voice tells you he can stop the murder of your people, sometimes you listen. Especially when your supposed 'all powerful' parents can't step off their thrones for two seconds to see if their kids are still kicking. Every side has its drawbacks. It just sucks that demigods are always the ones to pay the price.

-

It's around this time that Kronos starts taking major control of the mind. Luke has gone through the horrible ordeal of piecing Kronos out of Tartarus, nearly killing Percy (wow, another one), poisoning Thalia's tree, etc., etc., but now that the grisly parts are over, Kronos wants the mind and body all to himself.

It must have been a test. See how far he's willing to go for the cause. Well, apparently pretty damn far, for all the lies Kronos told him. Fatal tests of will just to pass inspection, like a car. Like Agamemnon. Like Odysseus. While he let Kronos hand pick his sacrifices. Like Artemis. Like Zeus. Like-

-

Annabeth is kidnapped. Bianca dies. The best of them, being held against her will. One of the newest, body lying broken in the gods' garbage while a 13 year old wonders how to tell her ten year old brother that his sister isn't coming back. The metaphor writes itself.

-

(Was Bianca killed by the infamous pettiness and laziness of the gods, or was she killed by a quest she was only on because of choices Luke made?)

-

Everyone keeps threatening Annabeth. If he could just get her to see, to see how terrible the gods are, that he is fighting for demigods and only demigods, that Kronos can help them-

-

"Is that what you want? To go back to your dad in triumph?"

He gets pushed off a cliff for his efforts, and Annabeth still goes back to Camp with Thalia and Percy.

It hurts.

-

Must these be their only two options? Death or losing their identities to a cause that was never about them? Losing their identities as they become soldiers? Gods, he hopes not. This can't have all been for nothing.

(In the back of his mind, he thinks there's another metaphor in there somewhere. He's traded a coffin for white room torture.)

Coffin for white room torture. Coffin for white room torture.

Coffin or white room torture.

Coffin or white room-

-

After Annabeth rejects him, there's not many options. He can't go back to Camp. He can't live on the run. He has no home. That's it. He's completely isolated. Kronos is all he has left.

It's a life of threats and ultimatums, impossible tasks and even worse commands. He bathes in the River Styx. It hurts. It always hurts.

Somehow, he knows: this is the beginning of the end.

-

The white walls are nearly constant now, and that's a new torture in and of itself. Every second he spends in here is another second Kronos is out there wreaking havoc with what was once Luke's body. The regret is over flowing now, too, boiling over the sides of the pot that is his mind, scorching the bright white and bringing color into his miserable life. His people are dead. His people are dying and it's the gods' faults. It's his fault. It's Kronos' fault. It's his fault. It's the goddamn system's fault for never changing.

It's his goddamn fault.

-

White walls.

Neon lights.

No shadows. Of all the things about the little room in Kronos' mind that Luke's been granted, he never thought the absence of shadows would be what bothered him most, but of course it's another fucking metaphor.

Nothing's real. Was it ever? This whole path started with a voice in his dreams. Who was he to decide between one dictator and the next? He's a husk of a person carved out to house a monster. His life is a joke. What's next? Will anyone even live to see it?

He's never getting out of the web of his own mistakes. His legacy is nothing. There's no hope, only the harsh white light of marching time.

His goddamn fault.

-

There's a voice in the cell. This hasn't happened in-

He doesn't know. Time isn't real.

It's Annabeth.

Annabeth-

It's Annabeth.

"Luke. I understand now. You have to trust me."

There wasn't a world in which he didn't trust her.

"Your mother. She saw your fate."

His - mother? Who-

May.

There's a brief flash in his mind's eye, blonde hair - no, white - peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, burned cookies. A bitter, bitter feeling. He can't tell if it's Annabeth's voice or the images or the feelings that choke him.

"Not the end, Luke. The prophecy - she saw what you would do. It applies to you!"

Annabeth's voice is so clear - so thick and heavy with tears - that he wishes he could reach out to her and wipe away all the sadness and hurt like he did when she was little.

But nothing can fix what he broke.

"You promised. You're holding Kronos back even now."

Was he? It sure as Hades didn't feel like it - but demigods were survivors.

Maybe this box was his preservation, not his prison.

He could pound on the walls, knock the blinding panels down. He could let the neon lights fall and shatter beneath his feet - he could get out. He could run from the filthy recesses of Kronos' mind and fucking fix something for once in hisgoddamn miserable, wasted life.

He is in the throne room. His father's chair sits nearby, with its rams' horns and gray rock and goatskin. It's almost enough to send him back to the box.

But beneath him is Annabeth, and she looks terrible. Just awful. Terrified of the sword that Kronos - no, Luke - has raised above her, ready to strike. Her knife is in her non broken hand. And not even as old as Luke was on his quest that started it all.

His goddamn fault.

Then she just has to deliver the exact words that will ruin him, tears and snot on her young, pale face, looking for all the world like that seven year old he found behind that dumpster all those years ago - except, it wasn't even a decade ago. How are they still so young?

"Family, Luke. You promised."

Even though he feels it, he doesn't think he actually shudders, but within moments, he is back in his own body, nearly out of practice, like steering with video game controls. "Promise," he whispers. Family. Someone else - Thalia. Dear gods, don't let her be dead.

He looks forward again, through his own blurry eyes, and sees red. "Annabeth, you're bleeding."

Finally within reach, he stumbles toward her, unsteady on unfamiliar feet. He's grown since he was last in control.

She doesn't shy away, just mumbles, "My knife." Her arm twitches, unable to lift against Kronos' power. "Percy, please."

Vaguely, he's aware of Percy knocking Backbiter out of his hands with Annabeth's dagger. So quickly, Kronos is back in power as just the son of the sea sends anger and panic bolting through him.

Luke's barely gone for any time at all this round, and he understands what he has to do. There is nothing else. "He's changing. Help. He's - he's almost ready. He won't need my body anymore. Please-"

Another flash, and the next thing he knows, he's on the ground, hands burning, smoking, pain pain pain that he doesn't feel. All he cares about now is the knife in Percy's hand and all the demigods he let down. "Please, Percy."

The boy in question staggers over to where Luke lays on the ground, and the blond nearly groans when he hesitates. "You can't...can't do it yourself," he warns, and trips through a couple of sentences that he hopes get his point across.

It doesn't matter; Percy still looks at Annabeth for her nod of approval in the end, and Luke mourns the loss of a life where he gets to tease them for that, his little sister and the other boy she clearly has wrapped around her finger in what is surely becoming a codependent relationship. Finally, he has the knife.

"Percy? Are you..." someone else nearby says. Luke doesn't have time to care about that, or to ruminate on all the ways he's screwed over the owner of that voice. He has to hit his weak spot before Kronos can take over again, and that's exactly what he does.

It hurts. Gods, it hurts so bad. He got to choose between the coffin and the white room and somehow he got both. Somehow, he dragged dozens of others with him just to send them to the coffin. He has so many regrets and only seconds to settle them all.

Annabeth's - Hal's, originally - knife in his hands, and Annabeth, Grover, and Percy surround him, barely able to stand yet still holding on. He coughs. "Good blade." He looks at Annabeth first. "You knew. I almost killed you, but you knew."

"Shh," Annabeth says immediately. "You were a hero at the end, Luke. You'll go to Elysium."

It's got to be a pipe dream, but he's also got to trust her. "Think...rebirth. Try for three times. Isles of the Blest." Maybe with two more tries, he'll finally get it right.

That makes Annabeth smile. "You always pushed yourself too hard." She presses her fingertips to his as he coughs blood.

"Did you love me?" he asks, surprising himself, even though it is a question that he would like answered before he dies.

"There was a time I thought...well I thought..." As she looks at Percy, it hits him that she thinks he means romantically, and he can't bear the idea that he allowed Kronos to twist his mind so far. "You were like a brother to me Luke, but I didn't love you."

That's all he needs to hear.

Just then, a wave of pain hits him, and he coughs more blood.

Grover - wonderful, kind Grover - says, "We can get ambrosia. We can-"

"Grover," Luke chokes out. There's no time for this, and more importantly, Luke can't bear to hear it. "You're the bravest satyr I ever knew. But no. There's no healing-" he coughs again, more blood flooding over his lips. He doesn't have much more time.

He turns to Percy, gripping his sleeve. "Ethan. Me. All the unclaimed. Don't let it happen again." Don't let the gods slip back into their bullshit while their children go dead and ignored. Don't let this vicious cycle start until both sides are destroyed. Give them better choices than the coffin or torture. If this is to be his legacy, he is damn well making it last.

"I won't," Percy agrees. Luke knew he would. He always saw how things should be. "I promise."

It's enough. It's a pact between a dying man and a boy with more power than anyone will ever know what to do with. It's a promise to protect their people. It's a promise to never let things get so bad that a child turns countless ruined childhoods, lost lives, and horrors into a near massacre of all the wrong people. It's enough.

I'm sorry, mom, Annabeth, Thalia, young me. I tried so hard, and I still got the coffin.

He takes one last look around, and he closes his eyes for the last time, no Kronos bubbling beneath his skin or gods watching his failures, just three people that somehow still believe in him. It's enough.

-

all dialogue goes to either the titan's curse or the last olympian

[anticomedygarden]

This looks like fun! Send in requests if there's something you guys wanna see on a certain day

Prompts for AI-less Whumptober 2024

As promised, we're bringing you the official prompt list of AI-less Whumptober 2024 today!

We have 31 days of excellent whump prompts, with three prompts per day to pick from, fun themes, and 10 alt prompts to play around with. We hope you enjoy! Additional info + plain text versions of the prompts can be found under the cut.

FAQ and Rules

What sort of content can I create for this event?

You can create whatever you want (fic, art, edits, etc). Any fandom is allowed, as well as OC stuff. NSFW is allowed, but please tag your content accordingly! The only thing not allowed is AI-generated content.

Do I need to make 31 things to participate?

Oh heavens no! You can make as much or as little content as you like, skip days when desired, or combine prompts (so for example, write something that covers a prompt from day 1, 2, AND 3). You don't have to do the days in order either, go wild! To be considered a 'completionist', you only have to make sure that at the end of the month, you've covered 31 prompts from 31 different days, but whether you do that in 31 works or just 1 is up to you.

What are these alts about?

If none of the three prompts of a particular day are your cup of tea, you can swap them out for an alt prompt of your choice.

What are these themes about?

Just a little bit of extra fun for the mods. Like last year, we'll be handing out various badges for people participating in the event. A full list can be found here, perhaps there is a special badge or two for people who can't be completionists but who do manage to finish every single day of a specific theme ;)

How do I tag and is there an AO3 collection?

It suffices to tag your work with #ailesswhumptober for us to see and reblog it! Please also tag nsfw, since we'll be using that tag too. Tagging the day is optional but does help the mods along.

There is an AO3 collection to add your fics to here.

That should be all. If you have any additional questions, check our pinned or hit us up in the ask box. Or join our discord maybe, whumping can be a great group activity!

---

Plain text versions of the prompts:

October 1 - Torture Tuesday

public torture/public use, stress position, “If you cry, we’ll go easy on you.”

October 2 - Whumperless Wednesday

Unfortunate fall, car accident, “Don’t move. You’ll be okay.”

October 3 - Trauma Thursday

Shared trauma, survivor’s guilt, “It’s not your fault.”

October 4 - Fright/Freaky Friday

Painful transformation, non-consensual body modifications, “You’re a monster.”

October 5 - Sensory Saturday

Overstimulation, migraines, “I can’t take this anymore.”

October 6 - Surprise Sunday

Multiple whumpees, self sacrifice, “I’m the only one who can do this.”

October 7 - Medical Monday

Field medicine, running out of supplies, “Hold on, we’re going to have to improvise.”

October 8 - Torture Tuesday

Rope burns, gagged, “You’re so much prettier this way.”

October 9 - Whumperless Wednesday

Hypothermia, heatstroke, “You look pretty pale.”

October 10 - Trauma Thursday

Self worth issues, pushing away a loved one, “You don't need to earn this.”

October 11 - Fright/Freaky Friday

Hallucinations, truth serum, “Why would you even say that?”

October 12 - Sensory Saturday

Isolation, sensory deprivation, “Can you feel me? I’m right here, whumpee.”

October 13 - Surprise Sunday

Whumpee using themself as bait, defiance, “Take me instead.”

October 14 - Medical Monday

Seizures, concussion, “See if you can follow my finger with your eyes.”

October 15 - Torture Tuesday

Waterboarding, removing body parts, “Don’t break down on me yet.”

October 16 - Whumperless Wednesday

Drowning, hostile environment, “I don’t know how anybody could survive that.”

October 17 - Trauma Thursday

Abandonment, misunderstanding, “Why did I even think you cared?”

October 18 - Fright/Freaky Friday

Mind control, possession, “Everybody will end up despising you.”

October 19 - Sensory Saturday

Disassociation, losing a sense, “I wish I could get you back.”

October 20 - Surprise Sunday

Enemy/Stranger to caretaker, accidental de-aging, “I’m absolutely not qualified for this shit.”

October 21 - Medical Monday

Drugged, ambulance ride, “This will make you feel better, okay?”

October 22 - Torture Tuesday

Forced (to kneel/watch/hurt somebody else), whipped, “Do not look away.” October 23 - Whumperless Wednesday

Fever, passing out, “Hey?! Stay with me, okay?!”

October 24 - Trauma Thursday

Deconditioning, relapse, “It’s normal that you need more time.”

October 25 - Fright/Freaky Friday

Humiliation, betrayal, “How could you?!”

October 26 - Sensory Saturday

Electrocution, burning, “This is going to sting.”

October 27 - Surprise Sunday

Before vs after, Alternate universe, “Well, there’s a first for everything.”

October 28 - Medical Monday

Internal bleeding, needles and stitches, “I didn’t think the wound was that bad…”

October 29 - Torture Tuesday

Ownership, branding, “Everybody will know that you’re mine.”

October 30 - Whumperless Wednesday

Poison, delirium, “You’re not making sense.”

October 31 - Trauma Thursday

Panic attack, facing a phobia, “You need to get out of here!”

Alt prompts:

1) Pistol whipped

2) Co-dependency

3) Animal bite

4) Zombies

5) White room torture

6) Shock collar

7) Pulling teeth

8) Kidnapping

9) “You always make everything worse!”

10) “If you weren’t around, I’d be long dead by now...”

[anticomedygarden]

white noise

Piper over thinks her powers and has a crisis. Luckily, her friends are there to ask for help.

ao3 link

i wrote this slightly oxygen deprived so if you see any mistakes please lmk (fr while I was editing I caught so many name, pronoun, spelling, and verb ending errors and I am still a bit not breathing right so please please tell me if something is wrong or doesn't make sense)

for those who don't know who killgrave is: he is a supervillain in netflix's jessica jones. he has powers similar to charmspeak but incredibly more powerful and uses those powers to completely control people, including rape

-

Piper never should have tried to watch TV at camp. She never should have asked her dad for a mobile hotspot and high speed internet. She never should have started catching Jason up on modern media. She never should have continued being friends with her ex-boyfriend. And she never should have introduced him to Marvel.

Jessica Jones currently had his whole attention, and his eyes were a little too bright as the hero snapped Killgrave's neck on her laptop screen. "Finally," he muttered, which would have concerned Piper a lot more had she not been staving off a panic attack.

"Oh my gods," Piper gasped, "I have Killgrave powers!"

Jason looked at her sharply. "Uh-"

She jumped off Jason's bed into the marble floor of the Zeus cabin, suddenly needing to get away from him. "Charmspeak is basically mind control!"

"I mean, you-"

"Oh, gods, did I contribute to Hera's heteronormative agenda?" She was full on panicking now, pacing and breathing heavily. "Do you think it took so long for you to realize you're gay because I was using my powers on you?"

Jason frowned in concentration, and it actually made her feel a little better that he took the time to think about his answer. "I don't think so. I think Hera did more damage than anything. Besides, your powers are more based on your own intent, right? You have to really try to make people do things."

"Not at first!" she said, a tad hysterical. The whole reason I was at the wilderness school was because I got that guy to give me a car!" Sure, she had good control of her powers, now, but whenever she first learned about them, she was basically just manipulating people. It felt icky then, and it felt even worse now that she'd seen what those kinds of abilities could do.

She looked up to see Jason staring at her, concerned. "Don't look at me like that, with your big sad Chris Evans eyes."

Jason's nose crinkled, and his blue eyes - big and sad like Captain America - turned downward. "Who's Chris Evans?"

Any other time, she would have made fun of him for that, but she was too upset to appreciate how funny it was. "The guy who plays adult you."

If it was possible, Jason looked even more confused. "What?"

"Oh gods, oh gods," Piper muttered. "Did I force myself on you? Was everything we did even consensual?"

There was a scratching sound over by Jason's bed, and Piper looked over to see Jason scribbling something down. She was willing to bet it was Chris Evans' name to google later. Again, she wanted to laugh but was freaking out too much.

When he was done, Jason said, "Yeah, I think it was. Even thinking about Hera, we were 15 to 16, and you're very pretty.” So he was he, but whatever. “Exploring your sexuality is what being that age is for." He started walking over to her. "Besides, we never really got past kissing."

Piper sniffed back tears. "Any forced touching is sexual assault."

"It wasn't forced, though," Jason insisted, but Piper still wasn't mollified. "Don't your powers work better when the person already wants to do the thing? Like the final push-"

"That's so much worse!" she exclaimed, to Jason's surprise. His eyes got very wide, and he took a step back. "Consent should be verbal and not coerced! If Chris Evans asked me to have sex with him, I'd probably want to, but I wouldn't say yes!" A horrible thought occurred to her. "Plus, do you know how easy these powers would make it to break an addict's sobriety? Or a million other things that suggestive mind control could do to vulnerable people?"

"Who is Chris Evans?" Jason asked again. Piper vowed to show him the Captain America movies if only so he could understand the archetype role he filled perfectly - if she could ever look at him again. He waved a hand. "It doesn't matter. Piper, you know this is something we all deal with? I could do terrible things with my powers, too. I could short out the entire eastern seaboard's power grid if I tried hard enough." He snapped. "And Nico - you hang out with Will, I know you've heard some of his stories - Nico can and has done some pretty terrible things, but we all still love him." Piper almost said this wasn't the time for Jason's weird older sibling obsession with the Italian before he pulled out the big guns. "Think about Percy. Do you know how hard he has to work to keep his powers in check? Your powers aren't even half as strong as his."

Damn. That was a good one. The boy was practically a ticking time bomb. The focus he expended just to not turn into Luke probably took most of his strength. "You're right," she said. Jason looked relieved. "I should go talk to Percy."

She ran out of Cabin One and booked it to Three.

-

Predictably, Percy and Annabeth were a bit startled when Piper burst into the Poseidon cabin.

"Percy," she declared, "kiss me."

The boy in question sent an alarmed look to Annabeth who seemed equally surprised. "...That's gonna be a no."

Piper narrowed her eyes and threw every bit of concentration into her next two words. "Kiss me."

A fog seemed to come over him, and he actually started to get up. Then, he shook his head. "What are you-"

"Percy, don't listen to her, she's having a crisis," Jason blurted as he shot through the door. The blond did a double take when he saw Percy, Annabeth, and Piper just staring at each other. "Oh, good."

Annabeth held up a hand from her spot at the corner of the bed. "What is going on?"

It was a good thing Jason started talking first because Piper had no idea where to even start. "We were watching Jessica Jones-"

"Oh, I love that show," Annabeth interrupted. "Well, the first season. Krysten Ritter is so hot-"

"So hot," Percy echoed.

"-and David Tennant is so good as Killgrave." Thankfully, that appeared to be all it took for Annabeth to understand Piper's current crisis of self. "Killgrave's powers freaked you out?"

Mutely, Piper nodded.

Annabeth put out a hand. "Percy's demi, it won't work as well on him. Ask me, I'm bi."

Before she could reconsider, Piper said, "Annabeth, kiss me."

Just as it had to Percy, a fog seemed to come over her face, but unlike her boyfriend, Annabeth didn't stop. She got to barely a few inches in front of Piper before she stumbled a little and pulled her head back. "Wow, that's so weird."

Piper was vaguely aware of Percy and Jason watching them in her periphery. "Do you feel violated?"

If she'd expected Annabeth to get uncomfortable at the question, she was sorely disappointed. The daughter of Athena just laughed at her. "I mean, only in the sense that I knew I was being coerced. Otherwise, you're my friend - my very beautiful friend - and I know you wouldn't hurt me. Honestly, if it weren't for Percy, I probably would have kissed you."

Now, everyone - barring Percy, who had apparently had extensive conversations with his girlfriend about what celebrities they both thought were hot - was staring at Annabeth. Piper shook her head and turned to Jason. "See? See how easy it would be for me to force-"

"I think you're looking at it wrong," Percy said suddenly. The son of Poseidon was giving her a thoughtful look. "I don't think your powers are as persuasive as you're thinking they are. You had to really try just now to get me to do anything, and Annabeth was, uh-"

"Ready to do what anyone would be when their awesome friend tells them to kiss them with their superpowers," Annabeth quickly declared.

Jason threw up his hands. "Thank you! And whatever you think you did to me should really be blamed on Hera because we were young-"

"So young," Annabeth agreed.

"-really, not old or experienced enough to be sure about what we wanted, not to mention the memories and manipulation, and you didn't realize you weren’t straight until a lot later, either-"

"So really, if anyone is guilty of mind control and sexual assault, it's Hera," said Percy, who was not afraid of pissing off the queen of the gods. No, he looked perfectly content and not worried about cow shit at all.

That made Piper smile.

"Plus," Percy started, "our powers are there to help us. We're not like characters who get powers by accident or give themselves power ups for their own gain or security. We're born with them because monsters are constantly trying to kill us."

That was...surprisingly insightful. It was easy to forget that Percy was actually pretty smart. "How do you guys do it, then? Deal with these crazy powers?"

Jason shook his head. "Percy can answer that better than me. Anything more than some sparks and flying takes a lot out of me."

His comment very nearly sent Piper back into a tailspin. She never would have considered herself anywhere near as powerful as Jason; hell, she wouldn't even consider herself as powerful as Annabeth. This new responsibility - knowing she could leave this cabin and ruin lives just with her voice - was almost more than she could handle, and she didn't like it at all. She couldn't believe Percy just lived like this, but 100 times worse knowing that his powers could - and had - hurt the gods.

The black haired boy cocked his head. "It's not like...I mean, I don't do anything special. You learn to live with it. You just have to find a way to not be bothered by it or lose control." Her face must have fallen or something because Percy said, "Annabeth helps a lot. I know if I ever did lose control, she'd pull me out of it." He grabbed Annabeth's hand. "Or kill me."

Annabeth blanched. "But it won't ever come to that."

Piper could tell from Percy and Annabeth's faces that it absolutely could come to that and that they'd probably had this exact discussion between the two of them before.

Maybe she should make a kill-pact with Jason or Leo or someone in case she ever went supervillain and turned into Killgrave.

She finally took the time to look around the room and realized that Percy and Annabeth had been doing homework. "Thanks, guys, I feel a lot better. See you at dinner."

"See ya."

The second the door to Percy's cabin was shut, Piper rounded on Jason. "Swear that if I ever go off the deep end, you'll kill me."

Jason's eyes bugged out of his head. "Piper-"

"Swear."

There wasn't any charmspeak in her voice - at least, she didn't think there was - but Jason still said, "Fine, but only if you do the same for me."

Piper nodded. "I swear by the River Styx that if you start using your powers to hurt innocent people and there's no chance of stopping you non fatally, I'll kill you."

Jason repeated the oath, and Piper dragged Jason back to his cabin for a Chris Evans binge.

-

A week later, Leo returned from Indiana and sat next to Piper on the steps of the amphitheater. "Hey, Beauty Queen."

"Hey, Repair Boy."

"I hear you're to blame for Jason suddenly writing Captain America fanfiction?"

Piper burst out laughing. "Is he really?"

Leo chuckled along with her. "Yeah, I caught him last night when he said he was writing a history essay. I think it was Stucky."

Piper grinned. "Technically..." She didn't need to finish the sentence. "But, seriously, with his self worth issues, this is kinda like therapy."

Leo laughed again, and, damn, she missed her friend. "You're not wrong." Then, his smile dropped. "You know, if you were looking for someone to kill you, I'm right here."

Piper raised her eyebrows at him. "Likewise. Wanna make a pact?"

He sure did. 

[anticomedygarden]

adventures in illegal weapons production and distribution

Peter creates knives that are undetectable by metal detectors. Predictably, this causes some chaos.

Based on ch 7 of deniigiq's 'in technicolor.'

ao3 link

-

Peter never knew a partnership with the NYPD could be so lucrative. Really, he should present his discovery to Captain Rogers, just to see what he would say. Probably something along the lines of 'reasoning can't be based on his experience with one guy that DD trusts' or something about sample size, or, depending on the soldier's mood, "Absolutely not."

Whatever. All Peter knew was that illegal acquisition of resin had never been easier, and all he'd had to do was become Spider-man.

This was how he ended up holed up in his bedroom surrounded by beautiful, clear knives, the sweet satisfaction of a job well done putting him to sleep at a reasonable hour.

-

The resin knives were cool, but there were just two problems, one if he was willing to overlook the effects on the environment. The bigger problem was that the resin could still be detected by SI's metal detectors, a fact which he now knew intimately.

"Man, let me go," Peter whined, rattling the handcuffs attached to his right hand. He was very close to trying out DD's thumb dislocation trick since he couldn't use his super strength, but he didn't think Mr. Stark would appreciate him breaking shit outside of the lab, even if it was his own body. "It's just resin."

The security guard currently holding Peter hostage in his little office (Mr. Greevy, according to his name tag) gave him an unimpressed look. It made his mustache twitch. "They're weapons."

Peter rolled his eyes. No shit, sir. That's the point.

Not only could he not break out of the cuffs, he couldn't tell Mr. Greevy to call Mr. Stark for three reasons: 1, the guard definitely would not believe him; 2, Mr. Stark probably wouldn't pick up; and 3, Mr. Stark did not like for Peter to have resin and would take away his knives and possibly tell Detective Mahoney to find another bribe, and that was simply unacceptable. Peter needed his resin for future projects.

Turns out, he didn't need to worry about any of that because Mr. Stark was already walking into the guard's room and demanding the key for the cuffs, but not before Mr. Greevy showed his big boss his brand new small box full of resin knives.

Peter thought that behind the pursed lips and drawn brow, Mr. Stark was impressed. Good. Some of those designs were intricate as hell.

Finally, Mr. Stark gave a quiet huff, said, "C'mon, Pete," and grabbed the knife box from Mr. Greevy, and they started up to the lab.

"Do I even want to know?" Mr. Stark asked tiredly.

No, probably not, but definitely yes after his next project.

"Fine, just keep it from me. Plausible deniability."

Yes sir, that's the plan. Can I please have my knives back?

-

Logically, the next step was making them able to slip past metal detectors, specifically the hyper aware ones at SI, and it only took one tipoff to Detective Mahoney to procure the necessary resin. The rest of the materials he could get from Mr. Stark's lab, and what was life without a little explicit disobedience, anyway?

Once he surfaced from his own project, Mr. Stark took one look at Peter's work station and did a double take. "Whatcha doing, buddy?"

Ha. Peter's had this answer waiting since he got here. "Experimenting with different materials."

Mr. Stark pressed his lips together into a thin line. "And what materials are those?"

"You told me not to tell you about it."

Once again, Mr. Stark pursed his lips. "It's resin, isn't it?"

Peter grinned at him. "Can we skip the whole, 'That's illegal, you shouldn't have that,' thing? We both know I'm just gonna bring up the illegal stuff you were getting up to when you were my age. Really, this isn't that bad."

Except for the part where he was gonna distribute his illegal and dangerous weapons to his illegal and dangerous friends.

Mr. Stark was really looking particularly stricken today. Like a man who knew he was in the right and still lost. Now there was nothing he could do to stop this masterpiece.

-

Less than a few hours later, the masterpiece was complete. His knives were beautiful. Truly one of his babies, along with his web fluid, first set of resin knives (R.I.P. from the bottom of his sock drawer), and the original Spidey suit. Now it was just a matter of testing it.

Because SI was (understandably) more concerned with what people might be bringing into its facilities - what with all the supervillains and crazy geniuses and such - to truly test his knives against detection, he would have to bring them back into the building. This, of course, meant crawling out the window of the lab in the Spiderman suit, walking all the way down the tower, putting his person clothes on over the suit in a nearby alley, walking back into the tower under the guise of forgetting his backpack, and doing all of it with the knives very strategically placed under the suit. In addition to the metal detectors, the security guard on duty also had him step aside to undergo additional security checks now that the man knew him as 'the kid with the weird ass knives.' Fortunately, the new material passed without detection, or else the subsequent few hours would have been very uncomfortable for everyone.

The next step now was distribution. Getting them to Wade was easy enough since the merc would be more interested in their durability and appearance, but Peter wanted to do one more test before taking them to Matt. DD would not be happy if Peter brought him supposedly undetectable knives and then was acosted at the court house. No, he had to get them through more metal detectors.

Peter had no reason to be in the court house. He also did not want to be arrested if the knives did somehow set off an alarm. Obviously, the best work around to this little problem was to stick a knife in the work bag of a particular court house employee he'd heard Matt complain about in the past, namely for being an 'asswipe small brained bigot with a head too big to stick up his own ass.' Matt's words, not his.

Peter was almost disappointed when the man made it smoothly past the entrance.

After sneaking into the man's office to steal back his knife, Peter quickly swung home to collect the box on his desk, the one full of knives. Team Red was scheduled for a meetup on this fine Monday morning while DD and Wade were between jobs and Peter had no classes that he cared about.

It took only a few minutes to get to the roof of their building, but Matt and Wade were already there when Peter landed. They both turned and stared at him. Well, Wade did. Matt cocked his head.

"Whatcha got there bud?" Wade asked, clearly very interested.

Peter grinned and carefully disentangled his box from where it was strapped to his stomach with webs. "I have presents."

"Ooh," Wade said. "Is it spider eggs? Cause if it is, I'd keep that to yourself."

Before Peter could answer, Matt broke in. "It's rattling, and it smells like chemicals." He sniffed, evidently annoyed that he couldn't figure out immediately what Peter had based on his olfactory cortex's admittedly extensive database of smells. "Is it..." He frowned. "Some sort of resin?"

"Ding ding ding!" Peter said delightedly and opened the box. "They're knives."

He handed one up to both men who took them eagerly; they studied them for a minute, Wade less thoroughly than Matt, who went so far as to lick the flat side of the blade. He made a face. "What the fuck is that?"

"It's a resin based polymer," he informed them. "It can get past metal detectors and is thin and flexible enough to go through light pat downs." This he knew first hand.

Much to his satisfaction, both people in front of him looked absolutely thrilled with this information.

"You know what this means?" Wade said, gesturing dramatically with the knife still in his hand, "I can finally go back to the mall!"

Oh. Oh well. The knives were their property now. It wasn't Peter's job to keep track of what they did with them.

Matt continued to look pleased. "I can't wait to tell Foggy how much safer we're about to be at the court house."

Ha. Mr. Nelson would be so happy.

-

They disbanded not long after that, Matt to his office and Wade to whatever he had to do, but Peter stayed up in the air for a while longer. Now that he had the supplies, he wanted to learn how to use them; therefore, he pulled up a YouTube video on knife throwing for beginners and began to practice. By the time he decided to head back to school, he had gotten fairly proficient if he did say so himself.

Sadly, there was one person who did not share that opinion.

"Hey, Spiderman," Ms Black Widow said.

He definitely did not shriek or jump two feet in the air, and he definitely did not curse his Spidey Sense for not sensing her. (She was dangerous as fuck, how did it not pick up on that?)

Once over his totally silent and stationary calm moment, he said, "Hi, Ms Black Widow ma'am."

"I heard you're practicing your throwing skills."

What.

"You're not bad, but there's plenty of room for improvement."

The.

"I think we could help each other."

Fuck.

"I'll teach you to throw if you make me some of those knives."

Yes. Absolutely. You say jump, I say I'm already stuck to the bottom of this helicopter.

"Good. I'll meet you on the roof of your building at 9 tonight."

Oh god. Oh fuck. He could do this.

-

He could not do this. Ms Black Widow was not only incredibly talented at all things violent, but she was also an incredible hard ass. None of his throws were perfect. They were fine . They were all right. There was always room for improvement .

On the plus side, he was very, very good at making knives. Ms Black Widow required two knives as payment for each lesson. It had been two weeks with one lesson a day. That was 28 knives. He was running out of resin. At least he could make them at home now.

This was definitely handy, along with Detective Mahoney's most recent need for Spiderman's help, because now Matt and Wade were particularly attached to their knives and wanted more. This, he found out from Mr. Nelson, who, at first, was not all that happy with his partner's new toys. No, the thank you text Peter had received from him was overly formal at best, obviously sent out of propriety and a subtle request never to make Matt weapons ever again at worst. Then, a heavily armed burglar attacked the bank the two just so happened to be banking at, and suddenly Mr. Nelson couldn't be more pleased with the knives. Yes, his new thank you text implied, they are very cool and all together good to have around, and we would very much like some more please.

Peter continued to be pleased.

-

Tony Stark was not happy. In the last two days, his personal sponsored vigilante had unleashed hell in his building, and Tony wanted to find out who was responsible.

After some light interrogation, he found out the special little knives - the ones that absolutely should not have made it through security - were made of a resin polymer, one that was definitely going to be patented before any unsavories got wind of the undetectable nature of the weapons. That was the easy part. The hard part was finding out where the actual fuck the kid was getting all this damn resin.

"Peter," he started, bravely, "where-"

"Momma didn't raise no snitch, Mr. Stark." This was said very quickly from a concerningly guiltless face.

"Momma didn't raise you," Tony said, face an uncaring mirror of the boy's in front of him, despite the line not being in any way productive or nice. Pepper glared at him from where she was apologizing to a group of interns that Peter had scared the bejeezus out of when he'd killed the fly that had been bothering them all day with one of his not-resin knives.

A fly. The animal famous for speed and being easily startled. This was why he didn't let Peter have resin.

Fortunately, Peter didn't seem to be offended. Or sorry. "Aunt May didn't raise no snitch, Mr. Stark."

Tony sighed deeply. "Kid, this is illegal. Whoever is getting this to you is a criminal."

Peter continued to not look sorry. If anything, he looked confused. "Then why would I tell you who it is?"

Fuck the resin. Peter needed to stop hanging out with vigilantes. Especially lawyer vigilantes.

"Is it Daredevil? Deadpool? I know you gave them some of your knives. Did Ted get it online? Who taught you how to throw?"

Peter's eyes glittered, and he mimed zipping his lips. This conversation was going nowhere.

-

The knives, predictably, continued to be a problem, especially for Tony's poor doors and whatever person happened to be staying in the tower at the time being because Peter, in his mischief, had taken to using his knife throwing skills to wake people up. It didn't matter when or who; a tired, overworked intern was just as likely to be a target as an Avenger late for a meeting. Anybody was liable to have a resin adjacent knife fly past their head the second it hit their pillow (or forearms).

Again, there was also the problem of security. This time, it wasn't that his knives were going where they shouldn't be; Peter was going where he shouldn't be. The little menace had figured out that his knives were thin enough to fit in the cracks between doors. This meant that he could now throw his knives into the latches on door locks, splitting them and leaving doors permanently ajar, from a considerable distance. He could also, if he so chose, throw his knives into the actual key holes, making them impossible to open. Thankfully, this was less of a problem for Tony because JARVIS could pretty well control the doors himself, but he just knew Peter had reported his discoveries to his little vigilante friends who would no doubt use the knowledge to wreak havoc on New York City and its criminal underworld.

So no, it wasn't a major problem. Until Secretary Ross came to visit.

He wanted something. Something stupid, probably. Probably something to do with an 'Avengers level threat' or publicity or something else that Tony didn't particularly care about or really didn't want to deal with. He didn't know because he wasn't paying attention. At this point, he was really just watching the man's lips flap while he sipped coffee with not enough espresso shots and tried to wake up before 9. It was fine; JARVIS could give him the rundown later if he didn't have something better to do by then.

Then, very quickly, it wasn't fine. With his back to the door, Tony heard glass shatter, then the crinkling of it falling and hitting the floor. In his half asleep, bored stated, he didn't immediately react. Then he saw the clearish knife in the cabinet lock by Ross' head and the pieces clicked together. Peter had just thrown one of his very illegal knives through a glass door and past the US Secretary of State's head, presumably to lightly threaten the man, which, honestly, Tony couldn't blame him for. Hatred for Thaddeus Ross was probably the only thing that all of the adults (and the other kids) in Peter's life could agree on, not to mention the kid's own issues with the guy, namely that if up to Ross, Peter would be in the Raft. Honestly, Tony would not be surprised if Peter had already fucked off to one his various circles to brag about not only being close enough to Ross to kill him but also getting to threaten him with an illegal weapon of his own creation. Of course, the kid could've just been trying to lock the cabinet behind the man's head since it housed some illegal substances, including but not limited to, the materials that made his knives.

Ross seemed to be at a loss for words. "What...was that?"

Huh. Maybe he didn't notice the knife. Tony decided it was in everyone's best interest to keep it that way. "Probably just the heat. Why don't you send the rest of this to me in an email?" He ushered the stuttering man over the pile of broken glass and into the - thankfully - empty hallway, and began to rethink his stance on illicit resin.

No matter what he landed on ethics wise, Peter needed to be stopped. Or at the very least slowed down.

-

Aunt May may not have raised a snitch, but when it came to her nephew's adventures in illegal weapons production and distribution, she sure was one. One call from Colonel James Rhodes had her spilling the name of the supplier, and Tony could definitely say that he was shocked. Of all the people Peter was involved with, Tony did not expect Detective Brett Mahoney of the 15th precinct to be his resin dealer, and he really was not expecting the resin to be payment for intel and aerial support.

Now that Tony had seen the knives be used for good, he was sort of willing to let the illegal dealings slide. Rhodey would be taking his side, but, in his words, he had a real job with bosses to answer to, as well as property damage that Pepper would soon find out about, an event that Tony really should be more concerned for.

Thus, Colonel James Rhodes sat down to write a letter to Detective Mahoney.

Tony supposed it would be nice to be able to use his own doors again.

-

hey i'm looking to get into marvel comics, so if anyone can recommend a good starting point (for someone who's seen the whole mcu and some of the defenders shows plus itsv and deadpool) and also a website on which to read them that would be awesome

[anticomedygarden]

ch 4

@kaymardsa

chapter 3 of wolf is on ao3!

@kaymardsa

(if you notice it sucks pls read the notes and maybe keep that to yourself)

[anticomedygarden]

chapter 3 of wolf is on ao3!

@kaymardsa

(if you notice it sucks pls read the notes and maybe keep that to yourself)

[anticomedygarden]

guys i just wrote for the first time since january

[anticomedygarden]

Hey! I loved your fic where percy got permanently injured and I was wondering if you could write anymore disabled percy fics?? There are so few of them and I am always looking for more disabled character representation! Love your writing!!! ❤❤

hi! sorry, this has been sitting my inbox for a while, it's been a long month.

can you be a bit more specific? it's just that my experience in what you're asking for is pretty much restricted to anxiety and the stuff i wrote about in the fic you mentioned, and even then, I've really only been in annabeth's position which is the only reason i felt comfortable enough to write that fic. if you give me a bit more to go off of, i can at least do some research to see if it's something i can do.

thank you! :)

[anticomedygarden]

writers, reminder that this is now a toggle in your blog settings!

[anticomedygarden]

Hi, Tumblr. It’s Tumblr. We’re working on some things that we want to share with you. 

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