#i was browsing through some of the bookmarks on inking indigo and saw someone tag the fic as abandoned

[matchaball]

wip updates

It’s been a long while since I’ve updated a lot of my fics, but I am working on them! I’m working on multiple fics at the same time so even though the going’s been slow, it’s been steady for all of them- which means at some point, I’m going to be dropping a bunch of fic updates at once haha. But in the meantime, I thought I’d give some wip snippets for any of those interested :) 

inking indigo

“Adrien and I binged through all of Lord of the Rings this weekend,” Nino explains. He reaches up to rub tired eyes, knocking his glasses askew in the process. “The extended versions, too. I totally forgot so many details in the movies. Did you remember that orcs are born from that gross goopy mud? Although, speaking of…”

He snags a used mixing bowl and collects a chunk of cookie dough with the swipe of his finger. He looks at Marinette and pauses, a finger in his mouth and an uncomfortably knowing twinkle in his eye. “Are you wearing Adrien’s apron?”

“Don’t insult my baking like that,” Marinette evades, trying to laugh the jibe about orc goop off instead of answering his sharp observation. “Especially if you’ve just come here to mooch.”

“I would never,” Nino deadpans, bringing hand over his heart in mock hurt. As if he didn’t spend most of his childhood and adolescence gleefully chowing down every treat Sabine and Tom always left for him, Alya, and Marinette to consume after school.  He quirks a smile. “You’re definitely wearing Adrien’s apron. It’s got the flowershop logo on it.”

Marinette’s cheeks heat up and she hastily stands and bustles to the sink, grabbing a dirty mixing bowl to scrub clean.

“I just haven’t had the chance to return it to him,” she defends, not meeting Nino’s eyes. His gaze is always the one that catches her unaware, at times she never expects so can never prepare for. “And it’s the only clean apron I’ve got at the moment.”

“Uh huh.” The dryness of Nino’s tone isn’t one she can fight against. Sometimes, Marinette thinks he knows her weak spots better than even Alya. He softens and relents. “Though speaking of, Adrien asked me to bring this back to you.”

He nudges the basket on the countertop with his elbow, uttering a soft “Oh shi-” as he accidentally knocks a shortbread turtle off the edge. He catches it just by the tip of his fingers as he lunges for it, saving it from a crumbly demise upon the floor.

Marinette pauses, bowl and sponge dripping from her hands, before setting them both down in the sink absentmindedly and wiping her hands dry on her apron. A small sound of surprise escapes her as she draws the basket towards her, finding it heavier than she expected.

NIno comes up, turtle in hand, and watches expectantly.

The lid folds back under Marinette’s hands, and a soft sea of blue and purple lupines greets her. She plucks a single stem up, watching as the tall spike waves up with the weight of the numerous blooms spiraling around the long stalk. The blooms at the tip remain closed still, still green and growing, graduating into full bloom towards the other end of the stem. Marinette’s fingers hover over the fully opened flowers at the bottom, just shy of touching a violet rich and vibrant enough to taste.

She lowers the flower to place on the countertop and changes her mind halfway, tucking it instead into the pocket of her apron. When she closes the lid of the basket, her hands are shaking. All the questions she’s wondered since the day she met Adrien, all the new information gleaned from her mother, and all the mashup of her emotions churn in her mind, whirling faster and faster and faster until-

“He bugs me,” Marinette blurts out.

ninette companion piece to @tides-miraculous‘ incredible art! (part 1/?)

When the footsteps of the couple have faded from her hearing, she slings her yoyo out and chooses to drop neatly down to street level to start heading back home. The immediate urge to detransform is strong- she appreciates that she can leave Ladybug behind when there isn’t a need for her- but the veritable cityscape of responsibilities, deadlines, and questions waiting for Marinette back home stop the necessary words from rolling off her tongue. They stop her slow walk down the street altogether, and Ladybug’s not quite sure where to go.

She wonders if Chat ever feels like this- like he’s adrift in his own skin, like he's a little...

“Lost?”   

The familiarity of the voice is the only thing that stops Ladybug from whirling around and giving a good roundhouse kick to the head, except it's not Chat that she sees as she turns around, but Nino.

“Yes?” she automatically answers, then backtracks to his initial question. “Wait- no… umm, maybe?”

Being unbalanced by surprise has her sounding much more like flustered Marinette than confident Ladybug. Something in her face must've shown, because Nino doesn't comment on it despite his pause of confusion. He blinks once, twice, then shrugs.

“Well, I’m going to be hanging out here for a while if you want company,” he says. He looks at her for another moment before offering a small smile. It’s an invitation as he walks to a nearby bench and settles himself comfortably down beneath the low light of the streetlamp.

She doesn’t want to stay on among the rooftops, but she doesn’t feel like going back just yet either so- maybe here is where she’s supposed to be.

Nino’s eyes are dark, and kind, as Ladybug steps up and joins him on the bench.

follow the running stitch 

“You've been watching those detective TV shows again,” Marinette groans.

“What's a journalist but a detective?” Alya shoots back, laughing at her friend’s disgruntled expression. “Besides, if you're going to make a guess, you might as well make it an interesting one.”

“An informed one hopefully, oh great reporter of the world.”

“Then it’s no longer so much a guess, as it is practically a fact.”

“Extrapolation, Alya. Isn’t that the point of investigative journalism? To dig and dig until you uncover every dirty little secret?”

“Only the truth, dear Watson. Only the truth.”

The look Marinette shoots her at the nickname is entirely dry and unamused, but Alya merely plucks the macaron left on the plate between them and pops it pointedly it in her mouth, her eyes crinkled in wicked humour. The pleasant chatter of the café’s patio around them falls away as Marinette gives in and rolls her eyes, a grin tugging up despite herself.

“Well your truths aren’t helping me draw anyone properly so help a girl out?” The flip of her sketchbook’s page is Marinette’s version of a sigh. Her pencil skates to the corner and stands poised, waiting to try again.

replay, rewind, restart (naruhina, soulmate au)

It would rip her apart, to lose her soulmate. She could feel it too, how it would break him.

“Don’t scare me like that again ok?” He pulled back just enough so she could see his eyes again, the memorable blue of them. He cupped her cheeks in his hands, calloused thumbs shaking as they stroked over her cheekbones gently, reverently, passing over the bandages that covered her temples. “I can’t lose you. I can’t.”

It had been her choice, to intervene with the gunman. Hinata would do it again, if the situation called for it once more, and she knew that she couldn’t make a promise that she wasn’t sure she could keep.

She realized it then. How having your soulmate didn’t mean also having forever with them. There was never a guarantee of a happy ending. There would always be fears to face, realities to answer to, choices to make. What Kiba had told her long ago didn’t seem so true here; Hinata couldn’t see the strength in the choices she might have to make, not when it meant leaving a shattered heart. There was just pain, and a bittersweet seed of hope that those choices may never come to pass.

“I…” Hinata started, because she knew she should say something. The words weren't there- but he was.

Her hands lifted up to wrap loosely around his wrists before skimming down powerful forearms tanned by the sun. Her fingers stretched wide open as she reached his broad shoulders, but they still couldn't span the solid width of them. He swallowed, throat working as she slid her hands down the great expanse of his chest. She mapped him, feeling the unconquerable strength of him tremble beneath her gentle touch. Within the fighting beat of his heart, she found her words.

“I'll try,” Hinata promised.

His answering smile broke over his face like a rising sun, dazzling and breathtaking. He leaned forward and pressed a kiss to her cheek, her nose, her lips, anywhere and everywhere that he could reach, drinking her in with unchecked emotion.

Hinata leaned into his embrace. Fear would make a fighter of her, but his love, this happiness was worth it.

“Hey,” he whispered softly at the end, his shining blue eyes the last thing she remembers. “You're the bravest person I know.”

naruhina drabble prompt (music au)

They make a stunning trio, dressed in formal black that soaks up the dark ink of their long hair. Their eyes shutter down towards their respective instruments, concentrating on the vibrato of the cello, the hum of the viola, the trill of the violin- and even though Naruto doesn't know much about classical music, he knows that they are very good.

Still, the pieces they play are very long and honestly a little tiring to listen to considering his minimal interest in classical music. Despite his best intentions, Naruto dozes off.

He swears, he only closed his eyes for a second but suddenly Tenten’s kicking his shins and the audience has surged into a roar of applause. Guilt springs Naruto to his feet and he cheers with all the heart and volume that had been denied to him before.

He can see Neji rolling his eyes at him, no doubt unfooled by his enthusiasm. The girl with the violin clasped in front of her smirks with wicked humour and Naruto gets the distinctive impression that he's become the butt of a joke.

The cello practically hides the other young woman on the stage but Naruto’s eyes flicker over to hers as she stands and bows. As she straightens, her long inky hair slides back from her face like curtains, revealing warm lavender eyes staring directly at him.

Maybe it's because her eyes had been hidden from view the whole time as she played before, maybe it’s because her countenance had been so unassuming before, but the open sincerity of her gaze now strikes him like a blow. The look of gentle amusement she gives him trips his heart and he can’t say why his face suddenly grows too warm. Even when she looks away to take in the rest of the crowd that’s starting to die down, he’s still clapping, still staring.  

“What d’you think Naruto?” Ino elbows his side. He totally misses the sly edge of her grin, the knowing tease in her voice. Something about the look from the cellist lingers in his mind like a note he’s trying to catch, and even though he can’t remember what he listened to, he knows there is something about that performer that makes him feel.

“...whoa,” he breathes.