and obviously not as colourful as the original but i only had one pencil

#pining #sketches #quidditch

Prompts: @antique-moonglade
Author: @queenofthyme

Draco calmly set about mixing his paints. He’d perfected a particular shade of green only the day prior, and he wanted to get it exact. He had plenty of time to get it right before he needed to begin sketching. Quidditch practice didn’t start for another twenty minutes or so.

He’d set up his canvas quite a distance from the pitch so that the players wouldn’t see him.  Of course, that also meant he couldn’t see them that well either so, as always, he’d brought his binoculars to get the best view of his intended subject - it was a bit of a hassle using them and painting at the same time but it was better than the alternative - being caught.

Not even Pansy knew he was out here. Not for lack of trying of course. She’d even taken to following him in the mornings but Draco was careful. This morning he’d led her on a goose chase around the castle before finally giving her the slip and heading outside.

It was surprisingly warm for so early in the morning, the harsh glares of the sun already in full force. Draco had created a shade for himself - magically stretching out the branches of a nearby tree to shield his pale skin from the sun. But the players wouldn’t be so lucky. He could just imagine the sweat rolling down a particular player’s skin. It would make for a great painting if he could capture it correctly.

The green paint turned out exactly as he wanted it, a perfect replica of its inspiration, Draco thought. He set it aside, eager for the chance to use it later. Since he had time to kill, he figured he may as well get a start on the background, so he began lightly sketching in the lines of the Quidditch pitch and the surrounding stadiums with a thin pencil. He’d just started drawing the hoops at the far side of the pitch when a voice pulled him out of focus.


The second hoop became oblong. He knew that voice.

“Potter,” he greeted automatically, his voice cold - a reflex.  He turned around quickly, his pencil falling into the grass.

Potter was squinting at Draco’s sketch, using his broomstick, firmly planted in the ground, to keep balance as he leaned forward. Despite only heading for a practice he was dressed in his full scarlet Gryffindor Quidditch uniform, complete with a protective chest plate handing loosely from his shoulders, waiting to be strapped on properly. Draco resisted the urge to fix it himself.

“You draw?”

A snarky What’s it you? on Draco’s lips was swallowed when Potter continued without waiting for an answer.

“Just the pitch? Or the players too?”

Panic filled Draco’s body settling itself as a niggling discomfort in his gut. “Just the pitch,” he said quickly, his eagerness to lie making him forget his desire to be contrary. Instead, his voice just came out rushed and squeaky. Lucky there were no witnesses otherwise his tough reputation would have been well and truly demolished, all by a couple of unextraordinary words from Harry Potter.

“Shame,” Potter said, standing up straight and lifting his broom. “Would you consider it? I’ve always wanted to be painted.”

Draco nodded against his will - what? Potter’s confidence was rather disconcerting. It clearly had the power to turn him into a squirming mess as well as a pathetic follower eager to please all at once.

Potter’s face lit up with a surprised smile - he obviously hadn’t expected Draco to be so agreeable - neither had Draco. “In that case, make sure you capture me from the left. It’s my good side.”

“Every side is your bloody good side,” Draco muttered to himself without thinking. Crap. There’s no way Potter hadn’t heard THAT embarrassing revelation. 

But Potter didn’t say anything further. He simply winked at Draco with those devilishly charming eyes (that made Draco’s knees go weak) before mounting his broom and flying off towards the pitch, his shape growing smaller and smaller until he was just a speck in the distance.

As soon as he could wrench his eyes away from Potter, Draco turned his focus to the shade of green paint he had created. He’d have to start again from scratch. It was nowhere close to the real thing.

Now that he had Potter’s blessing, more or less, he had to make everything perfect. After all, Potter would want to see the finished product. And Draco already knew that once he did, Potter would know exactly how Draco felt about him. How could he not when Draco channelled all of his emotions into his paintings? When every stroke of his brush that coloured Potter’s face was a gentle caress? It would be obvious to anyone.

Draco resigned himself to that fact and focused all his energy into the painting. If Potter liked it, Draco might just show him all the other finished canvases locked away in his dormitory too. It was about time someone else saw Draco’s work. And who better than Draco Malfoy’s muse, Harry Potter?

Draco was right of course. Potter returned immediately after practice, flushed and sweaty, expecting results. Draco didn’t have much to show yet - he’d spent most of his time working on mixing the right shades of green. But at the same time, he was almost certainly showing too much. Potter stared at the canvas for far too long.

Draco had started with Potter’s eyes and hadn’t got much further. Sketching over them again and again to get the precise shape, the precise look of concentration as Potter scanned the pitch for the snitch. And then came the colouring. What he had gotten wrong originally was trying to find the one right shade of green for Potter’s eyes, because there wasn’t one. There were a number of shades all swimming amongst each other. Vibrant. Ever changing. Alive. 

Draco thought he’d captured those eyes rather well in the end, but when Potter turned and his real eyes fixed themselves on Draco, all liveliness and wonder, Draco realised he’d never be able to do them justice. Potter’s eyes didn’t belong on paper. But Draco was starting to think, from the way Potter was blushing as he stared, that maybe, just maybe, Potter’s eyes belonged on Draco.

more like this l @queenofthyme

still // tommy shelby & reader

May I request a tommy x artist! Reader where the reader likes to sketch tommy !! Thank you :)

You’d not been able to sleep well that night. Your thoughts raced with all the dangerous possibilities and outcomes of the new, and possibly even riskier than ever before, business idea’s that Tommy had been planning recently with the growth of Shelby Brothers Limited. Every time you shut your eyes, the darkness sprouted a new way that your boyfriend could get hurt; causing your breathing to falter and heart to race in quickened beats. Sitting up as you ran your nails through your velvety hair, you turned to Tommy. He was still sleeping, peaceful and undisturbed by your restlessness; his body was curled up in itself with his back facing you, his breathing light and shallow through his slumber. With a soft smile, your hand graced Tommy’s face and brushed away a few stray hairs with ease.

In attempts to calm your nerves, you climbed from the bed and began to quietly rummage through set of drawers in the corner of your apartment. As you steadily pulled open the last one in the series, you were met with a rather untidy cluster of art supplies: an assortment of fading water colour paints you’d gotten as a girl, several charcoal pencils tied together with a black ribbon (after the original packaging had went missing along with a few of the pencils themselves), a somewhat expensive tray of oil paints that Tommy had given you last Christmas, as well as the odd sheet of torn paper and fraying paintbrush strewn throughout it You delved into the drawer; carefully moving the contents about in order to make as little noise as possible. Pulling a few sketching pencils and a thinning pad of paper from the draw, you moved to sit at the round table placed in the centre of the room. Lightly tapping the pencil against the cream sheet, admiring Thomas as he slept. And you began drawing.

The jagged edge of the graphite copied the curve of Tommy’s full, partially gaping lips onto the rough paper in a shade of dark grey, and captured the waved of his unruly hair in perfect fashion. At any particular strenuous pause in the process you bit down on your bottom lip and furrowed your eyebrows together with slight unease; perhaps when you couldn’t create the complimenting shade to his skin on the irregular surface with the limited supplies you had or you simply couldn’t capture the beauty you saw in Thomas to one mere drawing.

It was only when the sun rolled over the houses in Small Heath and through your window that you noticed just how long you had actually been drawing, and without your realisation, your fingers had began to cramp around the pencil and your neck had stiffened in its place. Though, it was nothing you weren’t used to, and so: you continued.

As you followed the patterns of his tattoo’s with your pencil, Tommy began to stir slightly in his slumber; his body turned and hand brushed over where you once laid. His eyes opened with a snap once his palm only grazed over the cotton sheets.

“Tommy, stay still a second…” you mumbled, hunched over the paper held between your fingers, the pencil slipped in your hand sketching madly on the sheet. He did as he was told; though a look of confusion had waved over his features. However, you couldn’t be sure if he was actually wondering whether you why were up and drawing at this time in the morning, or if it was just his half-asleep state of mind. After you mumbled a quiet thank you, Thomas climbed from his place on the bed and moved to lean against the back of your seat with his hands. As you stared down at the sketch, your eyes attempting to pick at any details that needed editing, Tommy pulled the sketchpad from your fingers and brought it to his eyes.

“It’s beautiful, [y/n].”

“Well, obviously.” You pulled the paper from his grip and gently threw it to the table with a soft chuckle. Hands falling to his chest as you pressed your lips to his. “It’s a drawing of you, isn’t it?”

The colours you brought me (Niall Horan)

Hello everyone! So, today I bring you a request @therosequeen52 made me:

Plot: “Hi, could you write me one with Niall? The plot would be where you see black and white and when you meet your soulmate you see colors”

Before getting into the story, I gotta let you know REQUESTS ARE CLOSED TEMPORALLY. As you all know winter break is almost done :( and that means I’m not going to have time to write for a bit. However I’ve got some stories prepeared to upload soon :)

@therosequeen52 hope you like it!

For the rest, ENJOY!!!

It was a cold winter afternoon when Stephanie and her mother walked back home after another day at school.

The six year old girl held her mother’s hand tightly, not wanting to let go of her warm soft grip.

For quite a long time Stephanie had been wondering why she couldn’t see the world in colours, just as her parents did. She had a great desire to see her surroundings on their original state as well as how the seasons made a makeover on the city every three months; but none of that happened and her bewilderment only grew worse.

“Mommy, why can’t I see colours?” her question caught the woman by surprise, who looked down to her and met her naive eyes ”Well sweetheart, that’s because you haven’t met your soulmate yet” to Stephanie the question wasn’t answered, she didn’t know what a soulmate was and her mother realised It “Look… a soulmate is someone who, since the very first look, will connect with you like no one else will ever do. He will share and understand every single thought that runs through your mind, and truly love and support you no matter what” Stephanie listened carefully to her explanation, liking more its concept by the time she finished “And how does it feel?” “Meeting your soulmate?” the little girl shook her head in swift movements, something Harper found funny. Obviously for such a small human being love didn’t mind “Nooo, how does seeing in colour feel?” “Oh… it really feels good, it’s the best feeling ever…”

Stephanie walked through the black and white gardens of the park. Since she had a sense of memory being in contact with nature was one of the things she loved the most. Everything there worked as a great source of happiness: the fresh cool breezes of air hitting her frame, the sweet perfume roses oozed, the feeling of softness whenever her fingertips brushed these, and the improvised symphonies birds made with their loud chants were some examples. Nevertheless, it also brought a hint of sadness to her system: she still couldn’t see any of those magnificences in colour.

It was midday, usually, at that time of the day everyone was having lunch, therefore, the park was almost desert, just leaving Stephanie, nature and a random guy sitting on a bench alone.

The nineteen year old girl walked to her favourite spot on the huge garden: a quite ancient willow. She took her drawing pad and set of pencils and began marking the paper with delicate traces, little by little uniting and acquiring the form of an impressive tree.

As she brushed the charcoal she wondered how its beauty would multiply the day it had colour, something she thought about every time she drew.

Her daydreaming was interrupted by a loud stumble. Stephanie lifted her head abruptly and saw the unknown guy sprawled on the floor with the guitar he carried on top of him. Quickly she packed her stuff and approached to help him.

The boy muttered ‘oh no Niall’ as he rubbed his sore elbow. In the moment he tried to prop himself up he found an unknown beautiful girl squatted in front of him, who softly asked “Hey are you okay?” he was about to tell her it only had been a clumsy trip when suddenly found himself out of words. The only thing he could focus on was the foreign colour that lived in the girl’s sparkly eyes.

The same happened to Steph, what she had been dreaming for so long was happening right in front of her eyes, and couldn’t be more mesmerizing. A great range of colours expanded beginning on the boy’s ocean eyes, gradually revealing his pale skin and dyed blond hair.

Regarding the landscape around, trees now looked cheerier and more alive than ever, the sun in the blue sky above them gave off a dazzling brightness which highlighted the diversity of flowers around them, and the no longer black and white birds flying around finally established a wonderful image which could be relatable to the feeling of the moment: happiness.

Now Steph didn’t feel incomplete at all.

“Do you see…” “Colours? Yeah, and they’re so freaking beautiful… just as you” his sudden comment made her blush noticeably, a wide grin spread over the boy’s face as he detected her rosy cheeks.

“By the way, I’m Niall” his deep yet soft voice revealed an irish accent which Steph immediately was fond of “I’m Steph… well, Stephanie but everyone calls me Steph” she facepalmed herself at that unnecessary clarification ‘good way to start Steph’ she thought, but Niall chuckled due to her embarrassment. His cackles were unique, but in a good way, contagious and at the same time awkwardly cute. In a matter of seconds, she found herself laughing along with him.

After staring at each other for a few minutes, lost in the beauty of their orbs, Niall hesitantly asked “Would you like to go for a walk?” for an unknown reason Steph was glad he asked “Yeah, I’d love to” She stood up and held his guitar while he got rid of the dust his clothes were full of. As he did so she asked “What were you doing here?” “Just writing some songs” “Really? I’ve always admired songwriters, you are able to capture lots of feelings and experiences in the shape of wonderful rhymes” His eyes suddenly acquired a special brightness “That’s the magic of songs and what encourages me to try to build a name on the music industry, I want to reach people’s hearts with my lyrics” after his statement he finished cleaning himself. Offering his arm to the young girl he said “C’mon, let’s explore this new view of the world… together”

*Few years later*

It had been a long time since their first encounter, still they remembered It as if It had happened the day before: They headed on a long walk where they got to know each other in depth. Steph found out he was taking his career seriously and that, after years of trying hard, he was discussing a music deal with a record label that was interested on him.

By his part, Niall discovered she loved art and photography and that she moved from Massachusetts to Ireland to study thanks to a scholarship she got.

In a matter of hours they were treating each other as longtime friends, something which shocked Steph as she had never experienced that level of instant chemistry with anyone.

“A soulmate is someone who, since the very first look, will connect with you like no one else will ever do”

On that walk their conversation took a deep way. Niall opened himself up and confessed until he found colour in her eyes he didn’t feel completely happy. He told her his world felt boring and plain without them. Steph related to every single word that splited out of his mouth and shared her feelings with him as well.

“He will share and understand every single thought that runs through your mind”

Since that day their friendship grew stronger. They texted nonstop and met almost every afternoon. Little by little chemistry was palpable among them.

One day, Niall made the first move when he offered her some of his food. Yes, at first sight it didn’t seem to be something out of the blue nor romantic, but Steph knew the meaning of that gesture; Niall was a really kind guy but when it came to food he didn’t like to share it with anyone. The fact that he did that meant she was beyond important to him.

Now, two years later, Steph stood beside her boyfriend whispering encouraging words to his ear. There were five minutes left for his first concert ever and he was beyond nervous.

“Relax love, you’re going to shine on that stage, I know” she cupped his cheeks and kissed him in the sweetest way, trying to let him know she trusted on him “Now go there and prove everyone you’re worth it” Niall looked at her bright eyes, he reached for her hands and grabbed them on a soft grip “Steph, before going out there, I want to thank you for always supporting me. This means the world to me” he wrapped his arms around her figure and nuzzled his head on the crook of her neck “I love you so much”

“And truly love and support you no matter what”


The concert was on its half and everything seemed to go smoothly. The crowd was amazing and didn’t stop cheering him.

One of the best and most magic moments so far was when he sang ‘This town’  Steph could see his little star in the verge of tears when he looked at the buch of people in front of him swaying their screen phones and singing along creating a fascinating choir.

Finally he could see the results for all his efforts.

Stephanie walked to her mother, who came to support him as well “Mum, see? Ni finally made it… I’m so proud of him” a tear of happiness slided down her cheek. Harper smiled and brought her daughter on a tight embrace “Honey, there’s something I’ve been wanting to ask you for a long time” “Yeah?” “How does it feel?… Meeting your soulmate” Steph looked again at the most important colour in her life “Mum, It really feels good… it’s the best feeling ever”


12 days of Christmas gift ideas for Japanese learners Day Seven - Frixion addiction!

So, you’re writing your Christmas list, or shopping for a friend who is learning Japanese too. I’ve got a few gift ideas for you to consider, there’ll be one a day for the 12 days, search under the 12daysofJapanese tag to find them all.

Frixion pens by Pilot
Cost: $-$$ (low-mid  budget)

Usefulness: Very useful for perfectionists, colour coders, those scared of commitment and messy people like me

Suitable for: Everyone who takes notes on paper

Available in other languages: N/A

As most who study Japanese do I take a lot of notes and write a lot of kanji. If you write kanji in pen it can be really annoying, as one tiny error and the whole thing needs to be written again. I used mechanical pencils for years but they posed two issues for me:

  • the leads always snap repeatedly, even if I try not to use too much pressure
  • the graphite transfers from page to page in my notebooks and can cause legibility problems in textbooks if you need to write a lot of notes on them

A couple of years ago my friend told me about these erasable pens, I was sceptical as all the ones I’d ever tried had a lot of transfer, just like graphite, but the Japanese have pretty much perfected the erasable pen!

They work just like in the commercial, the heat of the friction caused by the ‘eraser’ part of the pen causes the ink to disappear, you can use a normal eraser too, but the one attached to the pen works best. 

The advantages of these pens are manifold for me:

  • Most importantly my notes are no longer full of crossings out or eraser/graphite smudges. Clean notes are easier to review and I don’t feel like a failure for having such messy and difficult-to-read notebooks.
  • there’s no transfer or snapping leads like with pencil
  • there’s no bleed through on pages
  • when erased, the paper returns to the original colour and isn’t stained by the pens (with the exception of faint marking from the felt tipped type if left for some days before erasing)
  • there’s a wide range of pen widths and colours so you can find whatever you need for colour coding or highlighting
  • I can erase just one kanji, or part of a kanji easily when I make a mistake they dry quickly, the thinner pens dry instantly
  • I am no longer afraid to write in my textbooks or highlight as I can erase everything if I want to- meaning I can use practise tests over and over, or go back and correct notes in my textbook if I later study something that makes me realise an old note needs clarification.
  • the colours are cute and I remember better using colour
  • they’re affordable

I basically use only these pens to study now, I love them and they’ve genuinely helped me learn more as my notes are so much clearer now.

Pilot have recently released Frixion pencils too, I’m not so into these as the friction created when overlaying colours sometimes erases the one layered first, so blending isn’t really possible, but they would’ve been great when I was really little.

You need quite a lot of heat to make the ink disappear: a hairdryer on high heat takes a few seconds, an iron erases ink instantly, I’ve heard of someone putting a mug of coffee on a book and accidentally erasing a circle in their notes, but day to day heat sources like hot weather, or a warm laptop won’t erase the ink in my experience. Obviously it’s not archival, but my notes from 3 years ago show no deterioration that I can see.

Anyway, I’m not really a proponent of the idea that you need fancy tools to study Japanese, but these pens are reasonably priced and have worked well for me so far, so I think anyone learning kanji would appreciate these as a gift, because they make the whole process a lot less frustrating.

There are lots of other types of non erasable pens you can get for studying that might prove particularly useful to a language learner, if you can’t buy online then head to your local stationary or craft store and ask the sales assistants what they recommend within your budget:

Beetle highlighters

Micron pens don’t bleed through even on thin pages, they’re recommended as the best bible markers, and bibles and dictionaries have similarly thin pages, so these should be a good choice

These Zebra highlighters are also recommended for bible study, so shouldn’t bleed through, whilst still giving bright marking where desired.

Pros- Affordable, wide range available, easy to find online.
Cons- Not specifically Japanese language related. You may have trouble finding these in a store if you’re not in a big city and can’t shop online.

sophielostandfound  asked:

ok, if you are still taking prompts i just got off of work, so might as well let that be inspiration for something :) how about an au with sales associate steve and customer bucky who keeps on coming in and buying things he doesn't need so he can see steve, and/or he asks for steve's opinion on every single piece of clothing he tries on :)

Working in the mall is rough, but it does have advantages.  Small things, like store discounts, easily accessible bus routes, and the hot guy who works at Hot Topic. Steve sees him sometimes, sitting on the bench outside the small art-store Steve works in.  His area of the mall has low foot traffic, all the stores catering to local niche markets.  It’s where people who want to get away go; not quite a secret, as anyone with common sense can figure out not to sit on a bench in front of Target if you want to be alone, but there aren’t a lot of regulars, either.

Except for the people looking for a semi-private bathroom.  Steve, unfortunately, knows the regularity of half the full-time employees in the mall.

The guy from Hot Topic shows up mid-afternoon one day, scowling at his phone with his elbows braced heavily on his knees.  His heavy black boots are on the ground so firmly, that it looks like he’s attempting to take root.  Steve watches, doodling in a small sketchbook, as Hot Topic Dude takes his fifteen minutes to pull himself back together, the hunch of his shoulders slowly relaxing, his head coming up from his hands until he can lift it high, and his brow smoothing out until he’s no longer looking murderous.  The guy stretches his neck, working the kinks out, and gets up.

It seems like their eyes meet, for a second, impossibly over the displays of painting supplies.

Steve watches him walk away, and he wonders what upset him.  Was it a customer?  Something at home?  Girlfriend?  Boyfriend? Maybe just a bunch of things cumulating into a boiling point?  He sometimes makes stories up in his head about people he sees to alleviate his own boredom, but he leaves it at idle curiosity for this guy.



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