mathiwrites - Tumblr blog

[mathiwrites]

I want a batfam fic when Jason dissapears, so Steph and Cass break into his place to investigate, and all they find is a note like that:

I got married and am now on a space honeymoon, where we get married at every single planet we can.

Xoxo

Jay

Ps.

Whoever found it - Get everybody's (especially B's) reactions on camera and give to me as the best wed gift in the world, and you'll be my favourite forever.

If you're B - Fuck you, you always ruin my fun, and you're not allowed at my place, so if it's you I hate you. Fuck you, B.

Is it a joke? Did he really eloped? And with who? Because he sure as hell didn't tell anyone. Like, WAS HE EVEN DATING?

Anyway, Steph and Cass have a blast out of it.

[mathiwrites]

Sorry it’s early but you really can’t use fanfiction terms in a non fanfiction context like if someone is trying to sell me a book to read and they tell me there’s an enemy to lovers I would be annoyed because why are you spoiling the story lol

[mathiwrites]

[mathiwrites]

The point of consumerism is so important, too. It's a whole other can of worms, but in a world where publishing and movie studios focus only on the bottom line and what sells to the masses, fanfiction is your number one place to find your niche.

Even better, fanfiction is the place where you'll find happy little stories made out of love, passion and without sacrificing the story for what will sell.

Like honestly, I'm still baffled people will criticize fanfiction for not being canon compliant when you can go read the canon works. Repeatedly. To your heart's content.

I have a specific 3 part story that I adore. I read it multiple times a year, for over a decade now. It's my safe space, it's where I find love and peace. Can you imagine if someone told that person not to do it bc it's not canon?

Anyways, to writers out there, never forget that your story can mean the world to one person.

Man, sometimes I see posts that are so disheartening and makes me wanna disengage from sharing writing + headcanons.

WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU’RE GONNA POLICE HOW PEOPLE ENJOY CHARACTERS?

I hate, hate, hate the “you’re wrong, I’m right” energy in fandom culture. I’d much rather read something where the writer is enjoying themselves and highlighting their favourite parts of a character.

Like, at the day, it’s FANfiction and there’s different ways to enjoy things. C’mon, in the same way that we don’t review fanfics, we shouldn’t make posts saying who’s writing is valid or not. Save that for the official publications, films and movies.

If you don’t like a fanfic, don’t read.

[mathiwrites]

Man, sometimes I see posts that are so disheartening and makes me wanna disengage from sharing writing + headcanons.

WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU’RE GONNA POLICE HOW PEOPLE ENJOY CHARACTERS?

I hate, hate, hate the “you’re wrong, I’m right” energy in fandom culture. I’d much rather read something where the writer is enjoying themselves and highlighting their favourite parts of a character.

Like, at the day, it’s FANfiction and there’s different ways to enjoy things. C’mon, in the same way that we don’t review fanfics, we shouldn’t make posts saying who’s writing is valid or not. Save that for the official publications, films and movies.

If you don’t like a fanfic, don’t read.

[mathiwrites]

The two moods of bruce wayne [as per the recent batman brave and the bold issue]

Evil slut

Vs

Kittyyyyyyy

[mathiwrites]

I think he gets it clark

[mathiwrites]

the main takeaway from my dc AUs

[mathiwrites]

the lighthouse // an aquafam au - chapter 8 update

Read on AO3.

Summary: Atlanna runs away from Atlantis with baby Orm and raises him on the surface with Tom Curry and Arthur.

Chapter 8 - different

Her eyes never leave the waterline, not even as she’s gently coaxed to rejoin the others. Martha Wayne is a kind woman, but Atlanna can sense the sternness and the ambition beneath her skin. It calls to her, louder than the kinship of motherhood; it’s the only reason she trusts the surface dweller.

The voices of the men are a soft hum, like the waves, to her ears. It’s the children’s laughter that she listens to, the way Orm’s laughter bubbles up in his chest as Martha’s boy gasps in open disdain. That’s sand, don’t put sand in your mouth! The more offended he sounds, the more defiant Orm becomes. Arthur, the easygoing child that he is, only laughs. Laughter is the sound of safety. Good.

“Lana!” One of the strangers calls to her, and Atlanna’s expression shutters. She does not respond, looking to her husband first and foremost. He nods, and only then does she engage.

“You require something from me?”

Orvax has stolen her last bits of trust. She has nothing to offer, except the bare minimum.

The man does not seem deterred. His partner offers her a glass of something colourful with a small umbrella. The odds of her being poisoned is low, but she does not take it either. Instead, Tom accepts the glass on her behalf.

“Come join us, I was just about to pick your husband’s brain.”

Atlanna takes the expression literally as she sits beside Tom. Before she can rebuke his threat with one of her own, Tom presses a warm, comforting hand against her knee—a subtle sign that she does not need to fight . They’re alright. There is no danger here, yet. Her gaze shifts to the water, tuning the conversation out for a brief moment. She senses nothing; she hasn’t sensed anything coming from the depths in weeks. Maybe they are safe.

“This may sound forward of me, but your children… They’re different, aren’t they?”

She has yet to release the harpoon, and the look in her eyes is as sharp at its tip. Who is he to comment on her children? They should be nothing to him. The thought that he has been watching them.. Oh, he must underestimate the lengths she would go to to protect them.

“How long?” She demands.

The man seems confused. “How long what?”

“How long have you been watching us? Did Orvax send you?” Atlanna stands, gripping her weapon.

The servant moves, too. Ah, he must be this surface dweller’s guard. She will have to tear through him first. No problem. Violence is the cost of her children’s safety, and it is a price she is all too willing to pay. Arthur knows to take Orm back to the lighthouse. Tom is a decent runner, even with the sand working against his foothold.

Martha quickly stands, putting herself between her people and Atlanna.

“Move. I have no interest in harming you.” But she will. She absolutely will. Atlanna has little to lose.

“Wait, wait,” she holds a hand out to Lana. “My husband doesn’t mean it that way. There are others. We’ve noticed in our travels that there are others like you and your sons. People are who are different, and that’s not a bad thing. We don’t think,” she glances at Thomas.

Tom has been speaking to the Waynes long enough to get a sense of them. “Let’s hear them out, hon.”

Atlanna remains standing. There’s a long moment where no one says anything. “Speak,” she orders, still a Queen in her own right.

“We don’t think it’s a bad thing. Everyone deserves a place, somewhere safe.” It’s a trend Thomas has noticed. Those who are different are often running from something, and he doesn’t blame them. The world is a shit place. “Especially the children. It can be lonely being different. I’ve been thinking. We could give them a place where they can be themselves and find a community in others like them.”

Thomas, Martha, Bruce and Alfred are human, yes, but their level of wealth sets them apart. It makes them just as susceptible to loneliness as the rest of them. A philanthropist at heart, Thomas wishes he could say that this is for all these other children, but it’s for Bruce, too. If everyone is Other, wouldn’t that even the playing field? He glances at his son playing with the Curry boys. This could work. It really could work. To think, it was just a wild idea he’s been playing with ever since meeting the Kents.

“ I can keep my children safe. They have a place. It is here. If you threaten our peace, I will leave you in pieces .” Atlanna kindly informs them.

“You may try,” says the man who has kept quiet this whole time, the one who offered her the glass of possible poison.

“That’s not,” Thomas sighs. “ Alfred ,” he reprimands under his breath. He gets his bearings to join his wife in de-escalating the situation. “I’m talking about a school. A place where they can learn about themselves, each other and how to navigate this world that isn’t built for them. They shouldn’t have to hide. Not always. They’d come home to you. We’re not trying to take your children away from you.”

His platitudes are not enough, and Martha sees that.

“Nothing can compare what you can do for your children, we just want to help. We have the resources and we would include you, and the other parents every step of the way to ensure everyone’s needs are met. It’s just an idea.”

“No.”

Atlanna hears nothing. She wants nothing to do with these strangers. All she wants is her boys and to be left alone.

[mathiwrites]

courting the apocalypse // acotar x pacrim - chapter 3

Read on AO3.

chapter 3 - pan-pacific dead corpse program

Everything the PPDC touches dies.

Whether it’s their beloved rangers or the continents they’re sworn to guard, it’s only a matter of time—it’s only a matter of how. Either you die on the ground, crushed, burned or a thousand other helpless ways (and none of them of your choosing), or you die in Jaeger pretending that you had a semblance of control.

Feyre wants nothing to do with them, so she struggles against her bonds the entire way. She glares at her captors, debating how severe her punishment will be if she spat on one of them. She starts to hack up some spittle, glaring at that shining PPDC badge. It’s her target and she rarely misses.

The truck pulls to a halt before she can do anything, and she’s herded out of it with a graceless shove.

“Don’t touch me!” She snarls, but the soldiers are larger than she is, and she needs to tip her head upwards to meet his eyes. Not very effective when it comes to making an impact.

“Move,” the man counters.

“Hey! Hey, cool it, Okoro,” another PPDC officer holds his hand out to calm her guard. Feyre recognizes his clothes as a pilot’s jumpsuit. His silver hair is tied behind his head in a messy bun, half-squished from a helmet’s embrace. “She’s with me. Can you get the zipties off her? C’mon, those suck.”

When she’s freed, he seems to forget about the others and focuses on her.

“My name’s Andras. Please don’t run, all my friends are watching,” he pleads, apparently trying to make a joke. He holds his hand out to her, and Feyre stares at it. She has no interest in making friends with a PPDC crony.

“This looks a lot worse than it is. You’re really talented, and well, we need your help.”

“Too bad. How the hell do I get out of here?” Feyre has no interest in the kind facade. Anything to get her ass in a Jaeger, right?

Her answer comes in the form of large hanger doors thundering open. A small company approaches her, each person in uniform. On their shoulders and their lapels, a littring of badges gleam at her. Beside the obvious Vice-Marshall, Feyre’s gaze lands on a familiar face, and she openly rolls her eyes.

Great, just great.

“Miss Feyre Archeron,” greets Vice-Marshall Eris Vanserra. His smile is far too cunning and conniving for a government peon. He’d look better off as a Kaiju profiteer, the kind who uses real gold to furnish his Kaiju bunker. Then again, that’s the name of this game isn’t? The Pan-Pacific Defense Corps gives anyone a chance to be a hero, as long as they can pilot a jaeger.

Feyre says nothing, glaring at the woman beside him.

“Hello, sister. It’s about time you came around,” Nesta Archeron smiles at her youngest sister. It has been years since the two of them last saw one another; she’s a spitting image of Feyre, but the features of her face more refined and mature. Prettier, too, but in a severe way.

Feyre has always thought of herself as the ugly duckling in the family.

“Fuck you,” she snarls, but it does nothing to deter her sister or the Vice-Marshall. The red-haired commander simply cocks a slender brow in her direction.

What is up with these people, Feyre remarks bitterly. They look more like models than they do soldiers.

“As you know, it’s illegal to commandeer a Jaeger against PPDC sanction. I’ll save you the details of the law,” Vice-Marshall Vanserra waves his hand, uninterested in his own duty. “You have two options. You can serve your sentence at the wall—”

“The wall isn’t going to work.” It escapes her before she can help herself. Feyre has lived by the wall at her father’s decree. He thought it would be safe, but they couldn’t afford to live inland. The two of them have been struggling near the shore, where animals no longer tread, and where the Wall has yet to be completed. The safest places are the most expensive. With just the two of them, and his injury, Feyre has no choice but to take care of them. She refuses to spend the rest of her life fighting for a lost cause.

Vanserra laughs. “Or your can join our Academy. We need more rangers every day, and as you know, not anyone is deserving of the role. Major Archeron has created an expedited curriculum for you.”

“You left,” Feyre accuses. A lot of information is being thrown in her direction, so she latches onto the loudest thoughts in her mind, and the strongest emotions.

“What did you want me to do? Mother died. I wasn’t going to wait around for my turn.” So, she chose to fight.

“You abandoned us.”

“No, father did and you could have followed once you came of age, but you chose to stay. Actions and consequences,” she says smoothly.

Nesta’s unbothered expression makes Feyre angrier. It’s like she didn’t matter to her sister, as if she didn’t care what happened to her or their father—whether they starved or died, it’s no matter to Nesta because she got out.

“Feyre will be joining the PPDC program,” the Major tells her Vice-Marshall.

“The hell I am!”

“You’d rather the wall? Come on, Feyre. I saw the footage. You really don’t want to do that again? It’s in your blood. Nothing else will give you a high like that. Being in a Jaeger is standing on top of the world.” Nesta hands her a manila folder. “Obviously, you could use some improvement. Here are my notes. I can turn you into the best Jaeger pilot that’s come out of the Academy since the program’s inception.” The confidence radiating from her is palpable.

Nesta glances at Vice-Marshall Vanserra, catching the look he gives her.

“You don’t have much of a choice, Feyre. Come on, I’ll give you a tour. If you still hate it, you’re free to leave.” Nesta waits for no one, turning on her heel, and the small crowd of officers parts for her.

It takes a long moment to decide, but in the end, Feyre decides to take a chance on this insane idea. She jogs after Nesta through the massive hangar doors, and the first thing she notices are the hundreds of eyes on her.

I’ve made a mistake.

[mathiwrites]

Having even slightly popular mutuals is so cool. The king has bestowed upon me a like. Perhaps even a reblog

[mathiwrites]

I started a food blog @mathieats!

I never realized how much I love food, so follow the new blog if you want to see some yummy adventures and wildly inappropriate close ups of food.

april book club brunch

Toast Arrabiata

French Toast (x2)

Tiramisu Latté

[mathiwrites]

I feel this way right now binding Manacled, but my favourite part of binding is not comparing which bind is better, but seeing how everyone has their own style/aesthetic!

I think it’s pretty neat!

In a similar vein to the person who said about being intimidated by other works.. How do you handle seeing someone has bound a fanfic you want to bind but feel you'll never be good enough because theirs looks so good?!

I feel like this meme pretty much sums it up:

But also: if you love something enough, that will shine through in your work. Also if you stick with the hobby long enough, you can always remake it!

[mathiwrites]

the man the myth the legend

(he was gonna straight up shoot a guy)

[mathiwrites]

One of my favorite things about polyamory fic is that, because a character is having different needs filled by different partners (and serving different needs of different partners), you get to see many aspects of their character that might not come up if they were locked into a singular relationship dynamic. Thus you end up seeing a more multi-dimensional and fleshed out view of the character.

[mathiwrites]

“You are special. I love you. I’m so proud of you.”

Happy 85th Anniversary Superman!