londonrainings asked:

I WANT TO TALK ABOUT WICK'S FEELINGS FOR RAVEN. He's so, so into her and yet he's still so cautious because he doesn't want to push her, but at the same time he's not going to get drawn into something that's maybe real/maybe not real. I live for the day when Raven turns to him and is all "Okay, I'm in. For real," because that's what my beautiful angel Raven deserves.

HE IS SO, SO, SO INTO HER. And he’s never done that stupid “pigtail pulling” shit that writers love to use. He’s literally been like “u r smart, u r kind, u r important” from day one. And when he was like “Okay, this was too much,” I wanted to DIE and also SING MY LOVE FOR THAT LINE from the mountaintops because you can tell that he was a bit upset, but that he was also like, being a grown up and an adult about it and trying to see things from her perspective and UGHHHHHHH LEMME ROLL ALL AROUND IN MY WICK FEELS.

I need ALL the non-smutty hurt comfort fics, or smutty slow burn fics for them, but basically all the fics of Raven leaning on him emotionally and him being very firm about not playing games but STILL being there if she needs to like, talk/cuddle/have a hug/vent/whatever.


londonrainings asked:

Canon prompt: trying to get the toast babies to sleep.

“Peeta,” I whisper as loudly as I dare. He glances up from the sketchbook he’s been hunched over for the past half-hour. I widen my eyes and look in the direction of the doorway, hoping he’ll understand what I’m trying to tell him. Luckily, he does.

“Dilly,” he says quietly, putting his sketchbook and pencils gently aside. As he moves to get up, there’s a quick shuffle from the hallway as Dilly scrambles in a vain attempt to hide. It’s clear we already know she’s there, and hiding is useless. But at four, that concept hasn’t quiet sunk in yet. Peeta catches up with her in no time, and scoops her up.

“Why are you still awake?” he asks her.

“I’m thirsty,” she says. “I had a bad dream.”

“Okay,” he says. “We’ll get you a glass of water and tuck you back in. I’ll check your closet again for monsters.”

I see her blue eyes peek over his shoulder at me. “I want mama to sing to me,” she says.

“Mama can’t sing,” Peeta explains. “She just got Ri to sleep.”

Dilly gives a scowl that Peeta always says reminds him of me. “But I need mama!” she insists.

Peeta glances back and briefly meets my eyes. “Why mama, Dilly?” he asks.

“Because she’ll shoot them," 

Peeta is trying to conceal his amusement as he looks back at me. I give them both a small smile. “Okay,” I concede. “Come over here.”

Father and daughter cross the room, and as he approaches, Dilly wiggles to free herself from his arms. He bends over to let her go, and she runs over to the couch and climbs up next to me. “Careful,” I tell her, because she’s moving a lot as she settles in. “You don’t want to wake your brother. Why don’t you lay your head on my lap?” She does, and as Peeta joins us on the couch, she stretches her tiny body so that she’s draped across both of us.

"Daddy, can Mamma and Ri and me visit you at the bakery tomorrow?” she asks once she’s made herself comfortable.

Peeta places on hand securely on her back. “Of course. As long as mama is up for it.”

Those blue eyes twist around to look up at me. “Mama, can we?”

“If you go to sleep now,” I tell her, but I can’t help smiling. She snaps her eyes shut and  quiets immediately. Peeta and I exchange a grin at how well that worked. Balancing my baby boy who lays with his head nestled against my shoulder in one arm, my free hand moves to her head where I gently begin stroking her hair, smoothing it back. I can feel her relaxing under my touch, until finally her breath evens out and I know she’s asleep. I turn to Peeta to ask if he’ll carry her back to her room, and find him staring at me with a dreamy smile on his face.

“What?” I ask.

“Nothing,” he says. “Just… you’re a natural at this.”

I smile, and look down at our little girl sprawled out over us. “She sounds like you when she sleeps,” I say.

Peeta raises his eyebrows. “What are you saying, Katniss? That I snore?”

“No. You’re just a heavy breather,” I say.

He rolls his eyes. “I’ve never heard you complain before,” he says.

“Who says I’m complaining?” I smile at him. He gives me a skeptical look, but it soon melts into a grin of his own.

“Okay,” he says. “I’ll take her upstairs.” He maneuvers himself carefully so that he can lift her without waking her. She stirs, but just sighs and rests her head against his shoulder.

As he gets up, I scoot forward to stand up myself. “Why don’t we go to bed, too?” I say. He smiles and nods. Grabbing his sketchbook for him, I follow him upstairs. 


(Long awaited tangled!gadge. Unbeta’d because I wanted to get this to you before midnight. Thanks so much for all the excitement and support for this little ficlet, I’m sorry it’s so short! I hope it lives up to expectations! Pure, poorly written fluff alert.)

When Gale sees a long blonde braid across the room interwoven with small flowers, he elbows Thom in the ribs. He can only see her in profile, her head turned away from him to talk to a Pocahontas wannabe facing the other way, but the lines of purple dress she wears clings to her body nicely.

“Check out Rapunzel,” he says with a smirk, nodding in her direction.

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For the DVD commentary, Rebel, chapter 7, when Katniss goes to Peeta’s cabin during the storm.


I do love talking about Rebel and first kisses, so thank you for this!

Well, I should start by saying that the cabin scene wasn’t meant to be the first kiss. I originally wrote it into the previous chapter when Peeta takes Katniss on his motorcycle. At the end of that night, he was supposed to drive her back to the farm, then ask her if she’s ever felt passion, and then pull her to him while he leans against the bike. But when DustWriter got a hold of that scene, she said that it felt way too soon for Katniss. Getting on the bike alone was an extremely different experience for her, so the kiss might be overload.

DW was right. So I decided to move that kiss to the moment when Peeta’s painting in the cabin, which was easy. That was one of my earliest visions for this whole story, of a bad boy brushing color onto a wall while Katniss is in his lap, discovering passion alongside the juxtaposition of the wet brush strokes. It just struck me as sexy.

The thunderstorm is another thing. I’m admittedly in love with rain scenes, and anyway I needed a good reason for Everlark to be alone in an intimate setting. Hence, I broke an Amish neighbor’s leg and sent Prim (the healer) and Mr. Everdeen on their way. And I created a harsh downpour that would prevent them from getting back home that night.

The storm was also a thematic way to enhance those wild, untethered emotions between Everlark. From their confessions and bonding over their parents (anger, hurt, rebellion…) to the moment Peeta tilts her head toward his, it’s like the rain is a soundtrack to everything. Perhaps it’s even an enabler, the way it drives them together, allowing them to unleash.

When Peeta shakes his head, curses under his breath, and kisses Katniss again, it’s him realizing how deep his feelings are. He’s never been with a girl he actually cares about, he’s never shared a meaningful embrace, one that actually mattered. It’s as much an emotional and sensual awakening for him as for Katniss.

Damn. I miss these two all the time.

On the occasion of londonrainings' 30th (yesterday).

londonrainings, happy (late) birthday! I came up with this idea right after I messaged you. Not fake dating, but there is a fair amount of fakery! I tried to put in some of the things I know you like, but if I made any mistakes I hope you enjoy it anyway.

Badgers and Gophers

November 2013

Madge Undersee was a sensible person. She was on the dean’s list at the University of Wisconsin not just because she was smart, but also because she paid attention in class, went to her professors’ office hours, and read everything on the syllabus. She played classical piano, had dutifully taken ballet and figure skating lessons up until tenth grade, did what her parents told her to do.

So what the hell was she doing, getting ready to watch the annual Badgers vs. Gophers football grudge match—in Minneapolis?

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londonrainings asked:

Harper/Murphy, roommates AU.

Ok I want to write more so expect a part two… at some point. I just wanted to get this out there.

“Ok so Murphy’s kind of interesting, but I swear he’s a good dude,” Miller said for about the hundredth time

“Nathan, the fact that you keep trying to sell him to me tells me we’re making a big mistake,” Harper retorted.

“Look, he’s not a total pig and he’ll pay his rent and share of the internet and cable.” Miller finally said.

“Sold!” Haper said. 

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I wrote a gadge thing inspired by this galespin with LR. Just a little bit of lighthearted cuteness to console myself with the talk of galeniss.


“Yes, Ma, I separated my colors.” Gale rolls his eyes as he opens the door, his phone pressed between his ear and his shoulder. The door slams into his shoulder and he winces, resting the basket he is holding higher on his hip. “Ugh, yes Ma, you know this isn’t my first time, right?”

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londonrainings asked:

I would move heaven and earth for a drunk shirtless Sansa in Jon Snow's apartment. Extra points for SUPER FLUSTERED Jon and totally nonchalant Sansa.


“You’re not Val.”

Sansa sits up, studying the man frozen in the doorway, and tilts her head at him. That’s a mistake, and she groans, pressing one palm to the side of her skull.

“My hair hurts,” she informs him, but he’s still just standing there, all deer in the headlights, and Sansa frowns. Is this some guy Val brought home with her? He’s cute enough for it, all dark hair and serious face and really nice shoulders underneath a boring gray t-shirt, but surely a guy Val would be interested in wouldn’t be so scandalized at a girl on the couch.

Then Sansa glances down.


At some point, she seems to have lost her bra and her shirt, although her skirt is still on, and- she wiggles her toes- she’s still wearing her tights.


She looks back up at the guy who is trying very, very hard to keep his gaze on some spot in the middle distance, some spot far away from her tits. It makes him look like he’s posing for a painting, and Sansa can’t help but giggle despite the pounding in her head.

“This can’t be Val’s because Val has nicer furniture and also she wouldn’t sleep with you because you seem scared of boobs,” she says wondering why it is that she says whatever comes into her head when she’s drunk (and shit, she’s totally still drunk and a bit hungover, and that is, in Sansa’s experience, the worst thing in the world to be.)

The guy looks at her face then, and Sansa suddenly realizes that he seems familiar. Really familiar.

“Whoops,” she mutters, and Jon Snow scowls. 

“How did you get in here?”

Sansa laughs. “You’re blushing! You are seriously blushing, like…like…a…I don’t know, a blushy thing. A person who blushes. That is you.”

“I’m not- look, Val lives down the hall, so why don’t you find your clothes and go see if she’s around?”

Studying her brother’s best friend, Sansa tries to remember if he was always hot. But remembering is like thinking and thinking is hard right now.

She stands up, stretching her arms over her head and yawning, only remembering the whole half-naked thing when Jon utters a strangled curse and looks up at the ceiling.

Grinning, Sansa asks, “Got any coffee?”

A continuation of the laundromat drabble for LR’s birthday.

Gale hasn’t done laundry in about two and a half weeks, and his laundry basket is full to bursting — swear to god, it’s not because he’s avoiding Madge Undersee. Except, it’s totally because he’s avoiding Madge Undersee, and he breathes out a heavy sigh of relief when he steps in to the laundromat at quarter til eleven on a Sunday night and finds it blissfully empty save for one haggard looking mother washing an alarming number of cloth diapers and the gurgling infant she has strapped into a baby bjorn. She gives him a cautious side-eye as he crosses the room to an empty washer but after he pulls out his Snuggle fabric softener she seems to relax.

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Fallen Out of Favor snippet!

I’m so sorry that I haven’t gotten the last chapter out yet! I totally meant to do four installments over four weeks, but Real Life got in the way of getting the fourth chapter done and out. Once this show that I’m in is over (last performance is tonight! And then the cast party, where Shit Is Gonna Get Weird.), I’ll be able to devote more than 20 minutes at a time to working on it. With that in mind, here–have a sneak peek! 

Actual footage of Clarke Griffin in this particular section (and there’s a bonus Minty mention):

Leaving medical with a promise to check back in on Monty at dinner, Clarke follows the path through the maze of tents toward the little clearing where the guys split firewood. Cracks and thunks fill the air, and she can hear familiar joking and laughing. Once she steps into the clearing, she looks for Bellamy and what she sees makes her mouth go dry. 

Because he’s shirtless and sweaty with his back to her, and because it’s just her luck, she’s found him right as he swings his axe up and over his head. The bright sun and the sheen of sweat on his skin accentuate the extension and flexion of his muscles as he hauls the axe downward and splits the wood in a single blow. Miller jerks his chin at him; Bellamy looks over his shoulder, drops the axe on its head, and turns to walk over to her. There’s sweat running down his chest and stomach and Clarke yanks her eyes from where the vee of his pelvis disappears into his cargo pants. 

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gadge week, day two: lonely


When Gale Hawthorne enters into the dorm Madge shares with Katniss, she is two thirds of the way through a bottle of wine and everything is warm.

He takes one look around the room, inspecting her tee shirt and yoga pants, and frowns. “Where’s Catnip?”

“Oh, hi Gale,” she snarks, “Good to see you too. Thanks for knocking.”

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Happy Birthday londonrainings. This is a little something for you. I wrote it in a hurry and I’m very tired to it’s not good, but I wanted to post something for you on your birthday.

“You’re too picky,” her mother used to say when Madge refused to get dressed until she was certain her hair ribbon matched her dress perfectly.

“You’re too picky,” her father would tell her every time he took her out for dinner and she spent twenty minutes choosing what to eat.

“You’re too picky” her date said when she refused to do anything with him in the seedy motel room he’d rented after their senior prom.

“You’re too picky,” her friends would tell her when she dumped a guy because he kept using there instead of their.

Madge didn’t think she was picky. She had high standards, sure, but what was wrong with that? Was it too much to want to look well? To enjoy her food? To expect decent hygiene? To date a guy who knew the difference between they’re, their and there?

Yet as the echo of the midnight bells faded, Madge felt that maybe she should have given their there a chance. Anything was better that sipping a warm beer by herself and trying not to sulk as all her friends shoved their tongues down the throats of boyfriends, casual dates or random strangers.

So for the New Year, Madge resolved to try and be a little less picky when it came to guys.

Her friends were dubious about her claims, but when Madge insisted she meant it, Katniss passed her a number. “It’s my friend Gale. I think you guys would be good together, but I knew you wouldn’t have given him a chance before.”

“Why? What’s wrong with him?”

Katniss frowned. “Nothing. He’s a great guy. But you’re so picky, you would have found something you didn’t like before you gave him a proper chance. You’ll really like him.”

With some trepidation, Madge sent him a text message. <Hi, I’m Madge, Katniss’ friend. She gave me your number.>

Her phone chimed a couple of minutes later. <Hi Madge. I’ve heard a lot about you.>

They exchanged a few messages over the next few days. She was pleased to see that he texted in full words, and didn’t do stupid things like abbreviate you to ‘u’, a habit that Madge still maintained was an absolutely valid reason to dump a guy. He also proved to have a flawless grasp of the differences between they’re, their and there.

On the downside, he wasn’t studying at Panem University like Madge and Katniss, instead he was across town at the Panem Institute of Technology, more affectionately known as the Nerd Pit by PU students. While Madge knew it was wrong to generalize, every single PIT student she’d ever met had been a huge nerd.

Madge had nothing against nerds. She had some nerdish qualities of her own. After all, she enjoyed a good debate about the finer points of Austen, she had a pretty extensive knowledge of the Star Wars Expanded Universe and liked to play movie scores on the piano. In fact, her ideal guy would probably be on the nerdy side; she wanted somebody smart and interesting.

But the more she learned about Gale, the more convinced she became that she was texting one of the guys from The Big Bang Theory, and she hated those guys. He was studying for a masters in engineering. He had a full ride scholarship. He spent every weekend at home in his Ma’s house. He traveled home by train because 'trains are cool’. He loved The Lord of the Rings, which was far, far nerdier than Star Wars. He even admitted to spending one weekend making a Captain American costume. It was for his little brother, but still.

If it wasn’t for Katniss regularly asking if she’d dumped Gale yet, Madge would probably have stopped texting him long before the Captain American revelation. It was because of her determination to prove Katniss that Madge kept texting him.

To her surprise, she was glad she did. Gale was funny, smart and interesting. They shared a lot of the same opinions about things and always had lively discussions when they didn’t. He introduced her to books and movies she’d never heard of and really enjoyed.

(Dear God, was she a nerd?)

And then Gale text to say that he was staying in town for the weekend to work on an assignment. <Do you want to meet up?>

Truthfully, Madge had been relieved that their busy schedules had prevented them from meeting so far. She enjoyed texting Gale. They had a wonderful textual relationship. She was worried that if they met, and there was zero attraction between as Madge expected, then that would probably be the end of their texting and she was sad at the thought of losing that. She would have made an excuse to avoid meeting him, or at least to prolong the inevitable, but Katniss mentioned that Gale was looking forward to meeting her, and Madge knew there was no way out of it.

So she text him back and they agreed to meet at a pizza place in town. <How will I know what you look like?> she asked.

<You’ll know me. I’m pretty much the male version of Katniss.> he replied and her heart sank. Katniss was a very pretty girl, but she barely cleared five foot, and Madge was just a little under five ten. Of all her nitpicks and deal breakers and no-nos, height was top of the list. She knew it was shallow and dumb, but short guys were such a turn off for her. She already felt like a giraffe around her friends like Katniss and Johanna, was it so wrong to want a guy that was taller than her?

So reluctantly, Madge made her way to the restaurant, certain that this was another romance doomed to end in failure. She just prayed she could find a way to remain friends with Gale, because for the first time, she’d met a guy she really did want to be friends with.

She arrived earlier than expected at the restaurant, there was no male Katniss lookalike nerds there yet so she took a seat at the bar and waited. There was a guy sitting a few stools down from her, and he smiled when she sat down. He had stormy grey eyes, thick dark hair and a chiseled jaw. When he unfolded himself from the stool to move closer to her, she realized that he was well over six foot. Madge felt herself blush and cursed her luck. Of course she’d meet an Adonis while she was waiting to meet Howard Wolowitz.

“Hi there,” he said. She shivered at the sound of his voice. “Can I buy you a drink?”

Before she could answer, the door of the restaurant opened and a guy walked in. He was medium height, kind of cute, dark hair like Katniss, horn-rimmed glasses. He looked around, but didn’t seem to recognize her. Madge knew she could pretend not to see him and accept tall, dark and handsome’s offer. But she realized she didn’t want to. She wanted to sit with Gale, she wanted to talk to him, she wanted to see if he was as funny and smart in person as he was in text. When his eyes finally met hers, Madge felt a thrill of excitement run through her.

She smiled at the Adonis. “Thanks, but my date just walked in.” She took a deep breath and approached Gale who was still standing at the door. “Gale, hi. It’s nice to meet you.”

Gale blinked at her. “Huh?”

“I’m Madge,” she said, with a bright smile and holding out her hand for him to shake.

He frowned. “Um, actually I’m OK thanks. My friends are over there.” He ducked around her and hurried over to where a group of guys were sharing some garlic bread.

Madge frowned in confusion before she felt a tap on her shoulder. She spun around to find the hottie from the bar.

He grinned at her. “Hi Madge, I’m Gale.”

“No, you’re not.”

Gale, the real Gale, laughed. “Yes, I am.” He pulled his phone out of his pocket and showed her the screen. Madge recognized their last conversation. “Will we grab a table?”

Feeling a little dazed, Madge followed him to a small table in the corner. Sitting opposite him, she realized what he’d meant when he’d said he was the male version of Katniss. They looked a lot alike. “You’re not what I was expecting,” she admitted.

“I gathered,” Gale said with a grin. “I’m really glad you came. Katniss thought you might not show up.”

“Is that why you were hitting in me before you realized who I was?”

Gale ducked his head a little sheepishly. “I knew who you were. Katniss sent me pictures. I… This is going to sound really conceited.” Madge raised an eyebrow but she motioned for him to continue. “I get a lot of interest from girls because of how I look, but then they realize I’m a bit of a nerd and they lose interest pretty quickly. I wanted to see if you’d still like me if I wasn’t….” He waved a hand at his face. “I didn’t expect that guy to walk in just then, that was lucky timing.”

Madge giggled. “I guess so.” She was grateful to the guy, whoever he was, he’d made her realize how much she liked Gale, not matter what he looked like. It was gratifying to find out she wasn’t as horribly shallow as she’d assumed.

A waiter approached them, order pad at the ready. “Would you like to order?”

Madge glanced down at the unopened menu in her hands. “We’re going to need a few minutes.” Maybe she’d learned to be less picky about guys, but it she still had very high standards when it came to pizza.