#beginner watercolor classes

[glimmerbugart]

Watercolor Villages Galore!

Such imagination in the Saturday Whimsical Watercolors 1 Class I can’t even wrap my head around it!

These photos represent a smattering of the fabulous and imaginative paintings that came out of class last week! The colors, doodles, collage, words and details are absolutely OUT OF THIS WORLD!!

Here are some more photos of the creativity:

This past Saturday we worked on using less paint and more water for a less saturated look. We also worked on learning how to paint different mushrooms and how to create adorable collage characters to add to our work. It’s always a lot of fun in this class, filled with painting, tunes and lots of laughs!

[sergle]

Hey Sergle, how does one learn how to draw? Like, I am in my 20s, can barely draw a stick figure, and feel overwhelmed whenever I try to look up tutorials. Do you have any advice on how to start?

my Unprofessional advice on how to start in earnest, is to do it the way little kids do when they start learning to draw! which is to not approach it as learning at all. sitting down and scribbling out whatever comes to mind, reading a book or watching a movie and trying to copy the way the characters are drawn. draw a page full of cats. do it while you watch tv. doing all that w/o the Grown Up impulse to be embarrassed that you're new at a skill.

[bi-panic-at-the-disco]

Why is your art so good- like bro-

ASJKSHSKDJKSJ

THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR SAYING THAT <33333 :DDDDD!!!!!

[jarenka]

Lately I've been practising watercolors and watching a lot of youtube videos about it. And there was a four hour long master-class for beginners from a well-known watercolor painter. In the beginning he was telling what it means to him to be a watercolor artist and about unique features of watercolor paining. He said that you need a bit of Buddhist mindset for making art with watercolor. You need to accept that you can't fully control everything you create. You need to accept that you won't be able to fix majority of mistakes you've made during the process and they will stay on your paining. Watercolor isn't a best medium for people who want to have everything under their control and want their painting be as precise as possible. 

(sorry to that guy in advance for butchering his lecture with my poor english)

So, being a SW fan, I of course immediately thought: Oh, this can be a perfect exercise for younglings/padawans! We saw them dancing in canon, I a think they can have some drawing lessons with GFFA analog of watercolor. Imagine little Jedi sitting in the Room of Thousand Fountains painting greenery and water. They need to patiently wait while layer of watercolor is drying. Maybe older Jedi encourage them to paint landscapes of their native planets and they are joking about some planets being much easier to draw. 

[guess-my-next-obsession]

‘Tis The Damn Season: Chapter Two

pairing: marcus pike x f!ofc (Nathalie Moss)

chapter rating: M (talks of panic attacks, so much yearning, this chapter is tame but the smut show starts next chapter)

word count: 4.2k

series masterlist | series playlist

Every Saturday morning, Mrs. Moss’s craft store holds an art class, usually taught by Nathalie or herself although neither of them were artists, exactly. The classes were simple: watercolors, knitting, sewing 101, some beginner pottery. The classes were easy because most of the time only elementary-aged children showed up to it. Occasionally a couple bored high schoolers might stop by, but it was an extreme rarity that a childless adult made an appearance.

So you can imagine Nathalie’s surprise and horror when she walked into the classroom and saw Marcus and Emily seated, giggling together in this week’s class.

“A-alright then,” she began, her eyes traveling all over the room but never at the two adults sticking out like sore thumbs. “Today we’re going to be painting with watercolors.”

One of her regular students, no older than ten stuck her hand up high in the air. “Miss Nathalie?”

“Yes, Amira?”

“What are we going to be painting?”

“Well, you know I like to let you guys decide what you want to paint because that way it’s special and completely you,” she smiled through her answer, the little girl nodding in response.

In her peripheral, she saw another longer, more muscular arm raise, a sigh building in her lungs as she turned her eyes to his, a half-grin on Marcus’ handsome face.

“Miss Nathalie?” He called, a small smile forming on her face against her will at the simple sound of his voice paired with her name.

“Yes, Marcus?” She asked, her smile now matching his wide grin, Emily’s eyes darting between the two of them as though they were in a standoff of sorts.

“What will you be painting today?” He asked innocently, although his smirk and eyes traveling up and down her body told her his thoughts were far from innocent.

Nathalie rolled her eyes and chuckled, taking in a slow inhale as she studied the mischief in his chocolate eyes.

“Something for my mom,” she finally admitted, Marcus’ smile softening as he nodded once.

“That’s a good idea, Miss Nathalie. I think I’ll do that too.”

Emily’s eyes had stopped studying the two of them, choosing instead to look down at her blank paper. Nathalie realized herself, clearing her throat before turning back to the children in the class.

“Okay, does everyone know how to paint with watercolors? I think everyone was here when we went over it last month, right?” All of the children nodded and began on their paintings, a spark of pride swelling in Nathalie’s chest as she watched them work. Even if she wasn’t pursuing the career she’d always dreamed of anymore, it felt nice to make an impact on these young lives with the simple and undeniable magic of art.

“Miss Nathalie?” Marcus seemed to be in a persistent mood today, and while that would’ve filled her with an electrifying, girlish giddiness before, with him being on a date, it only made her feel guilty. Emily was right there, and although Marcus’ intentions may have been innocent, she knew all too well what it was like to feel second-best. She wouldn’t put Emily through that no matter how badly she wanted to be Marcus’ first choice.

“What?” She snapped, wiping the smile off his face.

“…Emily’s cup has no water in it.” Nathalie felt her cheeks heat with embarrassment. Of course he wasn’t trying to flirt with her. He was simply looking out for his date.

“Oh, I’m sorry.” She walked over to their table and grabbed the cup, carrying it over to the sink to fill it halfway before delivering it with a well-meaning smile. Emily looked at her like she was the most evil woman in the world, her glare more threatening than anything she’d ever seen before. “I’m sorry.”

“For what?” The blonde snapped, yanking the cup from her hand and setting it down.

“I…” Nathalie meant to respond but Marcus turned his head and allowed his eyes to wander up to Nathalie’s as she stood behind their chairs, effectively silencing her. Her chest tingled with panic and shame and guilt and just about every other awful feeling in the world, all of those nasty emotions combining to form a tornado of anxiety that started to wreck her from the inside. “I’m sorry. Excuse me.”

Nathalie rushed out of the store’s classroom in a hurry, weaving through the aisles until she spotted her mother standing at the register in the front of the store, no customers in sight. As though she was a little girl scared of a monster under her bed, she clung to her mother in a desperate hug, burying her face in her sweater.

“Nattie, whats wrong?” Mrs. Moss stroked the back of her daughter’s head, a look of concern on her face though Nathalie couldn’t see it. She shook with sobs in her mother’s embrace, trying to focus on the familiar perfume she’d been wearing since Nathalie was a little girl rather than the man in the other room determined to ruin her.

“M…Marcus,” she croaked in a whisper, lifting her head up. Mrs. Moss wiped her daughters tears away, her brows still laced together as she studied the panic in Nathalie’s eyes. “He’s with Emily.”

“Okay,” she nodded, her voice soft as she read between the lines of what her daughter truly meant to say. Why is he with Emily and not me? “How about you stay up here and run the register and I’ll go take care of the class?”

Nathalie nodded, her eyes blinking away the tears that remained. Her mother leaned over to kiss her temple, whispering something incoherent to her daughter, but Nathalie didn’t need to hear it to know what she was saying.

Your time will come.

She’d been telling her that since she was a little girl, always yearning and demanding more from this life. Like when she saw the older kids in her neighborhood, Marcus being one of them, heading off to school every fall while she was still too young to even know how to tie her own shoes, your time will come. When she desperately wanted to mature and have the breasts and curves that all the other girls had developed over the summer while she remained flat as a board, your time will come. When her friends in high school got their drivers licenses and hand-me-down cars, Nathalie unable to even pass the written test, your time will come. When all of her college friends were falling in love and getting engaged while Nathalie struggled to even say ‘hi’ to a man, your time will come. Even this summer when Nathalie broke down in front of her parent’s home, having just arrived from her long journey from Chicago, sobbing out ‘When do I get to be happy like everyone else?’ into her father’s chest, your time will come.

She needed only to believe it.

“Hey!” Nathalie jumped at a familiar, soft voice as it broke her out of her thoughts, her eyes lifting to the woman standing in front of her register. Forcing a smile onto her face, she whispered a greeting back to Mrs. Pike, hoping that she couldn’t see the redness in her eyes brought on by her son’s mere existence. “I thought you were teaching the class today?”

“Yeah, I was supposed to but…I’m having an off day today. Didn’t want the kids to have to witness it.” She shrugged and began to scan her cart full of yarn and other knitting supplies.

“Hey, why don’t you come over tonight? Remember how I used to invite you over to bake when you were little? I’ve got a few pies I need to make for the church’s bake sale. Might be a good way to distract yourself a bit?” Nathalie sucked in a sharp breath and held it, the thought of running into Marcus again preventing her from immediately agreeing to the thoughtful invitation. “Marcus was supposed to help me but he’s taking Emily out ice skating tonight. So, it’ll just be me and you…and maybe Mr. Pike snoring in the living room.”

Though the thought of Marcus and Emily out on a date tonight stung her jealous heart, Nathalie let out an airy chuckle, shrugging her shoulders as she nodded in agreement. “Sure. That sounds lovely, Mrs. Pike.”

“Good, how about you come by around five or six?” Nathalie nodded and bagged her final item. After paying, Mrs. Pike gave her one last smile and they said their goodbyes, leaving Nathalie alone to think about what she needed to do to get over her son once and for all.

Yeah, right.

Nathalie had her current read in her hands as she sat on a wooden stool behind the register, the store having been particularly slow all day aside from the children and two adults in the back finishing up their watercolors.

“No, I really just don’t see the point in abstract art. It makes my head hurt and stomach sick, it’s…hard to look at.” Emily’s voice sounded from somewhere in the store, forcing Nathalie to set her book down as she realized the couple was getting closer.

“That’s sort of the point.” Marcus replied in an almost irritated tone, as though this hadn’t been the first thing they’d disagreed on. Nathalie sucked in a breath of strength as the couple approached the register, Emily’s hands empty but Marcus’ holding a leather-bound sketchbook and some pencils. His eyes locked with Nathalie’s as he set his things down on the counter, the softness in them seeming almost apologetic, though she was almost certain she was simply searching for what she wanted to see. “Hey.”

“Hey.” Nathalie lowered her eyes to the sketchbook, running her hands over the leather. “You…uh…we have an embossing machine. It’s, uh, free. If you wanted to have your name put on it.”

“Oh,” his tone grew lighter, his eyes brightening too. “Yeah. Yeah, that would be nice.”

“Follow me,” she spoke through a sigh, hating herself for the elongated amount of time spent in his presence when she could’ve just rang him up and sent him on his way.

“How long is this supposed to take?” Emily asked, glancing at her watch.

“Uh…like ten minutes?”

“Ten minutes?” She repeated as though Nathalie had told her they’d be standing here for an eternity. “Marcus, I have that appointment I need to get to.”

“Oh, right,” Marcus looked longingly at both Nathalie and his sketchbook, his heart set on both the embossment and the extra time spent in his neighbor’s presence.

“I can just ring you up now and drop it off at your house later on if you want,” Nathalie offered with a faint smile and a shrug.

“You’re an angel,” he complimented, the sincerity in his tone shocking not only Nathalie, but Emily as well. Marcus cleared his throat as he realized both women were staring at him. “Anyways, if you could just—“

“Right.” Nathalie carried the sketchbook back to the register, quickly ringing them up and wishing them a good afternoon, her eyes locking with Marcus’ as he glanced at her over his shoulder.

Did he have any clue at all of what that did to her? Did he have any idea that in the one week he’d been home he’d made her feel more alive than her ex-fiancé ever did in their seven years of being together? Was he aware that the sight of him with another woman drove her to the point of madness? Clearly, he must not have.

“Oh, look at this!” Mrs. Pike had been entertaining Nathalie with photo albums from every Christmas since Marcus had been born. She laid a photo album from twenty or so years ago in her lap, pointing at a photo of Nathalie, Marcus, Angela, and her older brother, Jason, in a snow ball fight. “Look at how little you all were.”

“I remember this so clearly in my head. I think I remember going home with a bloody nose,” Nathalie chuckled at the odd memory, Mrs. Pike wincing and nodding.

“Yeah, Marcus meant to hit Jason, but then he ducked and it hit you. Poor thing.” She flipped the page and sure enough there was a polaroid of Nathalie grinning into the camera with blood dripping from her nose, as if she’d earned her first battle wound. “You couldn’t have cared less about it, but Marcus felt so bad! I remember him pestering me everyday about going over to apologize but he was always so shy.”

“Well…” She smiled at the thought of a thirteen year old Marcus, always so sympathetic and compassionate. “I’m sure little me didn’t hold it against him.”

“Oh? Is Marcus home already?” Mrs. Pike looked through the living room window at a pair of headlights pulling into the driveway, Marcus stepping out of his sedan by himself. “I wonder what happened.”

“I should probably be going,” Nathalie stood up but Mrs. Pike was quick to stop her.

“No, no. I’m sure Marcus wouldn’t mind you being over.” Nathalie sighed, panic rising in her chest as she tried to focus on the photos in front of her, mindlessly flipping through the pages in an attempt to distract her mind.

“Everything okay?” Mrs. Pike could be overheard greeting her son in the entryway, a wall separating Nathalie from the pair.

“Yeah, yeah. Emily’s just…not what I’m looking for,” he sighed.

Nathalie could have sworn her heart was beginning to beat itself out of her chest as Marcus rounded the corner, newly stripped of his coat and scarf, his black sweater and jeans fitting his body snugly enough that she could see a faint line of all he had to offer. He stopped dead in his tracks when he saw her sitting on the sofa, their eyes locking from across the room.

“Nathalie’s been over helping me with some pies,” Mrs. Pike clarified, looking between the pair as they remained frozen in eye contact. Clearing her throat, she couldn’t help but smile at the tension between the two. “I’ll, uh, go open a bottle of wine.”

Nathalie waited until his mother had left the room to speak, gesturing behind him into the dining room.

“Your, uh, sketchbook is on the table.” Marcus finally blinked, swallowing before turning his head around to look into the other room.

“Thanks,” he turned back to her with a nod of his head, his finger pointing at the photo album in her lap. “What year does she have you looking at?”

“Oh,” she chuckled and closed the book to read the cover. “2002. The year of the snowball incident, apparently.”

“Oh no!” He chuckled, walking over and taking the seat beside her, close enough so that his knee was touching hers. He took the book onto his lap and flipped through the pages until he found the pictures Mrs. Pike and Nathalie had just been looking at, gasping at the bloody photo. “Jesus! And look at you…smiling.”

“What can I say? I’m hardcore.” Nathalie’s eyes had yet to see him so close, at least not in years. She studied his profile as he grinned and flipped through the album, pointing things out that she couldn’t hear over the pounding in her chest. “What happened with Emily?”

Marcus’ laughter died down as he turned his head to face her, their lips close enough that she could feel his breathing falter.

“She…said something that turned me off, I guess,” he started, his eyes glued to her lips.

“What…” she began in a shaky, whispered voice. “What did she say?”

“She just said something that I didn’t like about someone I care about.” Nathalie’s breath hitched as his eyes met hers again, her shaking hand wanting to reach out and hold his face but before she could even think about acting on her desire, Mrs. Pike was walking into the room with three glasses of wine, forcing the pair apart. Marcus cleared his throat as he scooted over, his mother grinning to herself.

“Sorry, was I interrupting anything?” Nathalie grabbed her glass of red wine and downed it in one gulp, needing to take the edge off this awkward moment. Marcus chuckled and shook his head at his mother as he sipped on his glass.

“I should, uh…should probably head home, though,” Nathalie stood up and grabbed her purse in a hurry, both Mrs. Pike and Marcus rushing to follow her into the entryway. They watched her as she slid her coat and scarf on before doing the same with her gloves and beanie.

“Are you sure you’ll be alright?” Mrs. Pike worried.

“Yeah, I’ll be fine,” she assured with a small, hardly visible smile.

“Let me walk you home. Give ma some peace of mind,” Marcus offered innocently enough, but the look in his eye was almost begging. She found herself curious to see what what happen if the two were truly left alone together, even if they were simply walking across the street.

“Sure.”

Marcus wasted no time in putting his coat and scarf, smoothly opening the door for her as she hugged his mother goodbye.

“After you,” Marcus gestured and Nathalie blushed as she walked through the front door first.

He remained close to her as they started their small journey to her front door, their shoulders bumping as they walked at a sluggish pace.

“So…”

“So,” she chuckled. “What exactly did Emily say about me?”

“Who said I was talking about you?” He purposely bumped his shoulder into hers, forcing her eyes to meet his. She raised an eyebrow to challenge him, earning a chuckle as he faced forward. “Fine. She just said that she didn’t like how forward you were with me. That you didn’t respect ‘girl code’.”

“Me?” She placed her hand over her heart in disbelief. “I was forward?”

He shrugged, a knowing smirk growing on his face that had her panic returning. The only thing worse than him not knowing the extent of her feelings for him was him knowing and not caring.

“Nathalie,” he spoke her name and pulled her out of her panic, the whole world hushing to a peaceful quiet, everything but him fading into a blur as she lifted her eyes to meet his. “I was the one being forward.”

“Yes, you were,” she repeated as though it was a fact, not daring to lay all her cards out on the table without seeing his first.

“And you keep disappearing,” he teased, stopping them in the middle of their suburban street covered in a blanket of snow besides a couple tire tracks leading into different driveways. The street lamp in front of her house beamed a golden yellow, illuminating the snowflakes as they began to fall in the faintest dusting over the neighborhood. “Why do you keep disappearing?”

“Why do you think?” She chuckled, rolling her eyes at him.

“Because of Emily?”

“Yes, because of Emily!” She half-shouted, though the smile on her face told Marcus she wasn’t so much upset as she was embarrassed.

“Emily is gone. There’s no more me and Emily,” he assured with equal enthusiasm. “So why now, even with you right here beside me does it feel like you’re disappearing again?”

Nathalie was stunned by both his audacity and his accuracy. She had retreated, putting up a wall between them to save herself from feeling the kinds of feelings she had spent half a year trying to avoid.

“I’m…panicking,” she confessed in a whisper, the snowy night silent enough to allow him to hear it.

“Why?” He asked, reaching to cup her face with his gloved hands, thumbs stroking over the plumpness of her cheeks.

“Because,” she whined, pulling his hands off her face. “Because I just got my heart broken and I’m not ready to risk that again. Especially not with you.”

“Why not with me?” He looked offended, stepping back just a couple inches, his brows laced together and eyes narrowed.

“Because, Marcus! I’ve been in love with the idea of you since I was a little kid.”

The air was thick with tension as they both stared at each other in shock, her confession taking them both by surprise.

“The idea of me?” He finally spoke, his voice a whisper. “Just the idea?”

“Marcus,” she groaned and started towards her house at a normal pace, forcing him to follow her.

“I’m here, Nat,” he grabbed her hand and stopped her as she moved to step up the stairs to her porch. She turned around and met his eyes, the thick layer of ice she’d built around her heart melting the longer she stared into the warm brown of his irises. “I’m here telling you that…I can’t get you out of my head.”

She couldn’t think, let alone react to his confession. This was the sort of thing she used to dream about—Marcus standing in front of her proclaiming his feelings, fighting for her, pulling her out of her own head and back to earth. But this wasn’t a dream. He was real, standing there looking at her with expectant eyes, almost begging her to say yes, say no, say anything.

“I’ve never been able to get you out of my head,” she finally whispered a response, fear palpable in her voice along with a desperate longing that left Marcus weak in the knees. “Not since you hit me with that damn snowball.”

“I’ve always been a terrible flirt,” he chuckled, stepping close enough that he had to bend his neck to look down at her, his hand cradling her jaw while the other held her waist. “Can I kiss you?”

“Yes,” she nodded enthusiastically, her eyes locked on his pout. “I’ve literally been waiting years for this, Marcus.”

“I’m sorry it took me so long to realize,” he whispered as he leaned in, Nathalie tugging him closer at the first press of his lips against hers. He hummed against her, the hand on her waist wrapping around her body to hug her close as she held onto his collar for dear life.

She’d only seen women being kissed like this in the movies, that sort of passionate display often too romantic for most real life men, but it was clear that Marcus wasn’t like most men. He held her like she was the only thing in the world he wanted to hold for the rest of his life. He kissed her like he’d never kiss again, stealing her breath only to moan it back against her lips.

“Ahem,” Mr. Moss cleared his throat, the two jumping apart as though they were teenagers caught in the act. Marcus blushed as he wiped his mouth as subtly as he could manage, nodding at her father standing in the doorway.

“Mr. Moss.”

“Marcus.”

Nathalie winced at the awkward situation, turning her eyes from her father and back to the man that had just proven to her that romance still existed.

“Probably should say goodnight,” she held her hand out, smirking at him as he looked down at it.

“Come to dinner with me tomorrow,” he whispered as he slipped his hand against hers.

“Okay,” she chuckled and looked away bashfully, bringing another eye-crinkling grin to Marcus’ face. He shook his head and stepped away from her, knowing that if he stayed there any longer, he might never find the strength to leave.

“Goodnight, Mr. Moss,” he waved at her father who only chuckled in response before bringing his eyes back to Nathalie’s once more. “Night, Nat.”

“Night, Marcus.” Nathalie stayed watching him as he walked across the snow to his parent’s house, his gloved hands tucked in his pocket and head down. Even without seeing his face, he was so handsome it almost hurt to be around him.

“You gonna come inside or what?” Mr. Moss teased, finally earning his daughter’s attention. She rolled her eyes and chuckled at him, a pink hue to her tanned skin as she walked up the steps. “You and Marcus looked like you’re getting along.”

“Dad,” she laughed and shook her head as they walked inside. “Shh.”

“Alright, alright. I’ll quit making fun of you…for tonight.”

“That was a long walk,” Marcus was met at the door by his mother’s teasing, a grin on her face as she watched him blush. “Get lost?”

“Ha-ha,” he shook his head and followed up his fake laughter with a few real chuckles. Hanging his coat and scarf on the coatrack by the door, Marcus let out a content sigh. “We kissed.”

“Oh, you have no idea how happy this makes me, Marcus.” Marcus had never seen his mother so approving and happy over a girl he liked. “Are you taking her out on a real date?”

“Yeah, mom,” laughed. “Taking her out for dinner tomorrow night.”

“Oh, thank god!” She bellowed with joy, squeezing him in a lung-crushing hug. “Try not to move too fast with this one. I like her.”

Marcus chuckled and freed himself from his mothers embrace, still wearing his blush. “I like her too.”

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[maybeimamuppet]

the melted clock

BOO IM POSTING ON A TUESDAY INSTEAD OF A WEDNESDAY BE AFRAID BE VERY AFRAID

lol but in all seriousness happy halloween!! welcome to the halloween chapter ooooooh spooky

tw fooooor

mentioned suicide

and as always if i missed something please let me know so i can add it in :)

enhoy!

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Cady sighs as she walks into the art classroom on the first day of school. She’s never really been one for art, but she needs the credits to graduate. 

She’s not quite the first one there, but she’s close to it. Two boys are set up on easels side by side towards the middle of the classroom, and a tall girl with thick, dark hair hides behind her own in the very back row. Cady picks one as close to the front as she can stand to be so she has the easiest view of what the teacher does. 

Her classmates trickle in, some by themselves, and others with a friend or two. Everyone picks an easel and takes their seats on the stools behind them. Their teacher comes in and passes out their (cheap watercolor, to start with) paints, and they get started. 

————-

The first week or so goes okay. It’s mostly about things like lighting and color theory and stuff Cady just has to take in and not act on. 

Then they get their first assignment. And Cady quickly realizes she has absolutely no idea what she’s doing. 

It’s a beginners painting class, so she’s positive that she could turn in the worst thing the teacher had ever seen and still get a decent grade, but it’s not worth the risk to her GPA to turn in anything less than B+ worthy. 

She goes to the teacher after class and gets some helpful pointers. She’s also told the room is open after school if she ever wants to come spend some extra time working on projects. 

Cady takes her up on it almost immediately. 

—————

The room is empty when she walks in, so she gathers her supplies and picks an easel. She’s not stuck with the front of the classroom since the teacher isn’t there and there’s nothing she needs to learn or focus on. 

She settles for the one furthest in the back, by the huge windows. 

She’s just clipped her painting to it to resume working on it when her the hair on her neck starts to stand on end. Is someone looking at me? 

Cady looks out the window she’s next to to see. Nobody’s there, and the windows are tinted on the outside. Unless they were pressed right against the glass, nobody could see in anyway. 

Must just be my imagination. 

Or not. 

Cady jumps as she turns back the other way and sees the girl she saw on the first day standing, staring at her. “Jesus!”

Somehow, she materialized next to Cady in almost complete silence, in spite of being about five inches taller than her and clearly weighing a bit more. She’s certainly not small, by any means, and her clunky boots look like they’d be hard to keep quiet. 

“Sorry.” is her only greeting. 

“No, it’s okay, sorry for screaming at you,” Cady says with a giggle. “Do you need something?” 

“…No. It’s fine,” the girl says softly. 

“Are you sure? You were kinda… staring,” Cady stutters awkwardly. 

“I’m sure. You’re just… in my spot.”

“Oh!” Cady says. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know.”

“That’s why it’s fine,” the girl says. “Don’t worry about it.” 

“I’ll move, you can have it back-”

“No,” the girl interrupts. “For today. You… you have it. I can work somewhere else.” 

She quietly shuffles to one a few rows away and starts setting up her things. Cady watches her for a moment before she speaks up. “…I’m Cady.” 

The girl startles, as if she had forgotten Cady was there. She looks at her. 

“I’m a junior. I just moved here this year. What about you?” Cady continues. 

“I-I’m Janis. I’m a junior too,” the girl says. With that, she’s back to her work, picking up a brush and getting down to it. Cady tilts her head at the girl for a moment before she decides to do the same, and they work together in comfortable, if slightly awkward, silence.

—————

Cady sticks around every day after school that week. Her project could use the work, anyway, and the art room is a surprisingly comforting place to spend an afternoon. The smell of paint and turpentine, the old wood of the easels that have been painted on again and again for generations. The rickety metal stools and the autumn breeze blowing outside the window.

And Janis.

She’s always there. Sometimes they talk, sometimes they don’t. But she’s always, always, there. 

“You… really seem to like it in here,” Cady offers as a greeting one day. Janis looks up at her from her easel.

“Yeah. Is that a problem?” she replies. 

“No! No, of course not,” Cady says hastily. “I can’t say I blame you, honestly. It’s cozy in here.” 

“It is,” Janis agrees. Once again, she returns to her work. Cady frowns at her for a moment before she picks up her own brush and tries desperately to turn the blob of green she’s got into distinguished blades of grass.

—————

Time flies by, and before Cady’s totally aware of it, it’s almost time for Thanksgiving break. It’s getting cold outside, so she’s even more thankful than she usually is to have an excuse to linger inside the heated building. 

She’s done pretty well, so far. The worst grade she’s gotten on a project was a C+, which is far higher than she was expecting. The wonders of art class, I guess. She has two projects left before the end of the semester, so two more chances to boost her grade as much as she can. Unfortunately, they’re also the hardest ones yet. 

The one she’s stuck desperately trying to get right on the last day before break has to do with anatomy. They were told they could paint any living animal, but the animal had to clearly be in some sort of motion. 

Cady, naturally, decided to work off a photo she had of one of her lions leaping across the savanna. But somehow, with her skills, it just looks like a half-dead blob of orange that has something vaguely resembling four legs and a face. 

She’s grumbling to herself so much she barely hears the, “Could you quiet down a little?” 

Cady jumps. “Oh! Sorry.” 

“It’s fine,” Janis says. 

She’s working in front of Cady today, so Cady gets to peek and see what she’s doing. She can barely hold back a gasp at what she sees. “Whoa, Janis, that’s amazing!” 

“Huh?” Janis says. She follows Cady’s eyes. “Oh. Thanks.”

Janis has painted a fox. Its black, beady eyes seem to look directly out of the canvas and at Cady. Janis painted it so that it looks like it’s about to leap off the canvas and run amok in the world. Footprints are left in the snow behind it, it kicks up little flurries, its tail is swishing as it tracks the viewer, and Cady finds herself half believing it really will leap out and into her arms. 

“Wow,” Cady repeats. Janis blushes. 

“What… are you painting?” she asks. 

“Oh, uh… it’s meant to be a lion, but I’m not doing so well,” Cady says, rubbing the back of her neck, hot with humiliation. She can’t speak up in time to stop Janis coming around to see her painting. Janis bites her lip so she doesn’t laugh. 

“It’s not bad,” she says, a bit choked around the giggle stuck in her throat. 

“Yes it is, you can say it,” Cady grumbles. 

Janis chuckles. “It really isn’t. This is a beginners class, after all. You have the right idea.” 

“I do?” 

Janis nods. “It’ll help if you add some shadows and highlights. You can paint as big of an action scene as you want, but if it’s just flat colors, it still won’t look like much.” 

Cady tilts her head and looks at her painting. She considers this point, and nods. “I’ll try that. Thanks, Janis.”

Janis just nods and heads back to her own workstation. Cady picks up her brush, adds a bit of brown to her orange paint, and tries adding some shadows to her lion. 

She and Janis exchange the occasional word, but for the most part, it’s another slow, easy silence shared between them. 

—-

Cady packs up her stuff when she thinks it’s as good as she can get it. To her surprise, Janis is still there. Most of the time she’s slipped out the door so quietly Cady doesn’t even notice, let alone get a chance to wish her a good evening or say she’ll see her tomorrow. 

“Happy Thanksgiving, Janis,” she says as she ducks out the door. 

Janis looks up at her, and a hint of a smile graces her lips. “You too, Cady.”

—————

To Cady’s surprise, there’s more people in the art classroom after school when she returns to work on their latest assignment after the break. Cady guesses the last project of the semester is probably important to a lot more of her classmates than the rest of them have been. 

There’s a bunch of kids crowded around the easels in the front, talking loudly amongst themselves. But in the back, all alone, Cady can spy the slightest hint of that half-blonde hair she’s gotten so used to. 

“Hey, Janis,” Cady greets brightly. Janis startles. 

“Cady. Hi,” she responds. 

“Why are you working back here all by yourself? You should go join the rest of that group,” Cady says. “I’m sure you could teach them a thing or two.” 

“I’m fine back here,” Janis says immediately, like she didn’t even have to think about the words before they were out of her mouth. She hesitates, looks away, before she adds, “They’d just ignore me anyway. Whether I go near them or not.” 

Cady frowns. “Janis,” she says sadly. “I didn’t know you were being bullied like that. You should tell someone.” 

Janis looks at her for a long moment. Almost like she’s considering something. “I’m- it’s… it’s okay, Cady, really. I like being alone. Kinda beats hanging out with a bunch of high school schmoes anyway.” 

“If you say so,” Cady says. Should she tell someone anyway? Best not to, she thinks. Janis would if she was worried about it, right? If she likes being alone I shouldn’t force her to be overly social. “I’ll just work with you then.” 

Janis looks away from her as Cady sets up her paints on the easel next to her. Cady looks at her, and sees that soft smile on her face again. She smiles to herself and gets to work.  

—————

The last day before winter break rolls around near the middle of December. It’s a slow day. All assignments are turned in, and the students are free to wander around the school as they like. They’re playing holiday movies in the gym, selling various snacks in the cafeteria, and the elementary school students are visiting to put on a holiday musical in the auditorium. 

Cady doesn’t really have many friends to spend the day with. She has classmates she’s friendly with, but for the most part, she’s kind of a loner. Just like another girl she’s gotten to know quite well. And she thinks she knows just where she’ll be, too. 

She stops by the cafeteria to buy a couple of candy canes before she heads to the art classroom. The old familiar smell of paint welcomes her when she opens the door. And sure enough, right in the back, is Janis. 

“Hey Janis,” she greets. She can see some dark hair pop up over the easel as Janis jumps, before the whole head pops out next to it. 

“Hey,” Janis responds. “What’s up?” 

“I knew you’d be in here,” Cady says with a smile, sitting on the counter next to where Janis is working. “I got you something.” 

Janis looks at her in confusion. “Me?”

Cady nods. “Here.”

Janis takes the candy cane and stares at it like she’s never seen one before. “Man. Christmas already?” 

“I know, right?” Cady giggles. “You… don’t have anyone you want to spend the last day with?” 

Janis is quiet before she shakes her head, unwrapping the long end of the candy cane before she pops it into her mouth to suck on. “Not really. I like it in here.” 

“I can tell. It’s almost like you live here,” Cady teases with a giggle as she opens her own candy cane. 

“Would it be a bad thing if I did?” Janis responds in complete sincerity. 

“…No, I guess not,” Cady responds quietly. “It’s kinda comforting, I guess. It’s like you’re part of the room. I know you’ll be here.” 

Janis nods quietly. 

A beat passes before Cady continues speaking, trying desperately to keep the conversation going. “It’s my first Christmas here.” 

Janis nods again. “…Where did you move from?”

“Kenya,” Cady responds. “My family moved there when I was three. My parents are research zoologists. Or, they were, I guess. We went there to study migratory patterns of a specific species of lions. Originally. Then my parents kept observing new things and getting grants to study them, so we stayed. But then my mom got a new job working at the zoo in Chicago, so we moved here.” 

“Kenya,” Janis says softly. Cady nods. “That’s cool. That’s why you painted that lion, then.” 

“Yeah! I’m surprised you remembered that,” she says. 

“It was only a month ago.”

“I guess so,” Cady giggles. “Yours was so much better, though. And thanks for the tip about shadows. You must really know art.”

“I know some,” Janis agrees. “I am still in a beginners class, though.”

“I think you should be moved up. I don’t know how Ms. Gray doesn’t see how talented you are,” Cady says. 

“Talent is in the eye of the teacher,” Janis says poetically. 

“I-I guess so,” Cady agrees. She doesn’t know how to continue with the subject, so she changes it. “Hey, they’re showing Christmas movies in the gym, you wanna come check ‘em out with me? We can stop by the cafeteria on the way and get more candy canes. And one of the lunch ladies made cooki-”

“No.”

Cady frowns. Janis looks… angry, almost. Not quite, but that was clearly the wrong thing for Cady to say.

“I… I’m sorry. No, thank you. If you want to go, you go ahead. I’m good here. Promise,” Janis amends. 

“Well… okay. Sorry to try to drag you away,” Cady says. “Bye, Janis. Merry Christmas.”

“Bye, Cady. Merry Christmas,” Janis echoes, watching Cady as she leaves the room. 

Cady thinks to herself as she heads down the hall to the cafeteria and buys a cookie before joining the mob in the gym. Maybe Janis really does live in there. Cady’s never seen her anywhere else. They clearly don’t have any classes together except art, and they must be far apart all day for Cady to never see her in the halls. She must just go there right when she gets to school and right when classes end. Cady can’t say as she blames her. 

—————

It takes Cady a while to get back into the swing of things when they return in January. She’s about to leave to start her walk home when she remembers she left her painting in the art room instead of packing it up to bring with her. 

She runs back through the hallways as they empty out for the day and crashes into the art room. Which easel was it? Ah, that one! 

She frowns when she looks closer and sees someone drew a little smiley face in the corner. It’s cute, but Cady’s glad she’s already been graded on this one. How rude! 

“You shouldn’t leave your paintings lying around for anyone to get into,” a voice says from behind her. Cady gasps and whirls around. 

“Oh! Janis, it’s you,” she says in relief when she sees her friend. 

Janis raises an eyebrow. “Surprised to see me?” 

“Well… yeah, kinda,” Cady admits. Janis tilts her head and looks at her curiously. 

“Why?” 

“I hadn’t thought you’d be in here, still. Basically everyone else has gone home,” Cady says like it’s obvious. Isn’t it obvious? “They’ll lock you in if you’re not careful!”

“Oh no, how awful,” Janis says sarcastically. Cady glares at her, and Janis laughs. “I’m kidding. It’s fine, I just didn’t realize it was so late. Got distracted.”

“Painting?” 

“You know it,” Janis says with a small smirk. Cady’s grown to love that smirk, even if it is infuriating. The little dimple Janis has on her left cheek and not the right one. That mischievous glint that always seems to be present in those chocolate brown eyes of hers. But they always seem to… soften, just a little bit, when she looks right at Cady. Almost like she melts the tiniest little bit. 

“Well, are you done now? You wanna walk home with me?” Cady asks. 

“No,” Janis says immediately. “I-I’m not done. Not yet. You go ahead, don’t worry about me.”

“Are you sure? I don’t want to just leave you here,” Cady says sadly. 

“I’ll still be here tomorrow. You’re not leaving me,” Janis says comfortingly. “Really, Cady, don’t worry. You should go home yourself. It’ll be dark soon.” 

“O-okay. Goodnight, Jay. Be safe getting home,” Cady says. She really doesn’t want to leave, but trying to get Janis to clearly won’t go anywhere. Literally. 

“Goodnight, Cady. You too,” Janis says softly. 

—————

When Cady goes to the art room after school the next week, Janis is there, like always. Cady says hi to her and sets up her easel like she always does. 

To her surprise, Janis joins her. She leans casually against the easel, one ankle crossed over the other, and looks down at Cady. 

“Hi,” Cady greets. “I think this is the first time you’ve ever come over to me.”

“I… I want to talk to you,” Janis says quietly, shuffling her rings around her fingers and looking down at her.

“Oh really? Well, aren’t you little miss surprising today,” Cady giggles. 

“I-I’ll leave you alone, if you’re busy…”

“No! No, I’m not. I’m never too busy for you anyway. Sit, girl, sit,” Cady says. She pats the stool across from her. Janis scoots it a little closer and sits down on it. 

She takes a breath. Another. 

“Janis?” Cady asks in concern. 

“Why did you come talk to me?” Janis asks in one rapid breath. “After… after the first time. When you stole my easel.”

“Hey!”

“Why did you come back?” 

“I… I dunno,” Cady says. “You seemed… kinda lonely. I was too. I thought we could be friends. And then talking to you just got easier and easier.” 

“Nobody’s ever… nobody’s done that,” Janis says quietly. “Until you. Nobody’s talked to me.” 

“All year?! Janis, that’s horrible! I’ll tell Ms. Gray, she’ll-”

“No,” Janis says. “You-you think I’m being bullied, right? I-I thought that too. But I think… I think it’s something else.”

What else could it be? 

“I’m not sure yet. But when you and I spend time together, things… come to me. Come back to me,” Janis says. “Sometimes. Not enough, yet. But I think-”

They’re interrupted by the door to the room opening. Cady jumps and looks up to see their teacher. “Ah, Cady, there you are.”

“Hi, Ms. Gray,” she greets. 

“You’re in here alone?” Ms. Gray questions as she sets her things on her desk. “Anyway, I wanted to see if you wanted any help with the lighting assignment this month.”

“I’m not alone, I was just talking with Jan- oh,” Cady says. She’s gone. She must have ducked out when Cady was distracted by the conversation. “Some extra help would be great, thanks!” 

—————

The beginning of February brings with it an absolutely massive blizzard. 

Unfortunately for Cady, it hits right as she was finishing up her artwork for the day and getting ready to head home. She sighs as she hears the wind rushing outside the window and looks to see the snow fluttering down in a thick sheet. She’s gotten used to the snow in America, but trying to walk home in this would be practically asking to freeze to death. She’ll have to hole up until it stops. 

She settles in by the heater and texts her parents to let them know the situation. They’re both at work, so they can’t come to pick her up, either. She’s well and truly stuck. At least she can use her backpack as a pillow and play some math games on her phone. 

“Hey. You’re still here?” a familiar voice says. 

“Janis! I could say the same to you,” Cady giggles. “I was about to walk home, but, uh…” 

“I think Queen Elsa’s coronation must be upon us,” Janis says with a chuckle. Cady doesn’t understand what she’s saying, but she laughs too. “Can I sit?”

“Of course. It’s warm here,” Cady says, scooting her things over to make room. Janis leans against the wall next to her and looks down at her. 

Questions about their last conversation are practically burning in Cady’s gut, swirling around behind her eyes so quickly she can barely see. But, she doesn’t say anything. She knows now that Janis will talk when she’s ready to. She feels it’s best not to bring something like that up during pleasant conversation.

“What are you doing?” Janis asks, ironically being the one to pose the first question of the day. 

“Oh, I’m playing this game,” Cady says. “It’s like a crossword but with numbers instead. I’ve always liked math.” 

“Ew, you like math?” Janis asks with a positively disgusted face. Cady laughs. 

“Yeah. I’ve actually thought about joining the Mathletes team here,” she admits.

“That’s social suicide,” Janis says warningly, but teasingly. 

“I know, I know. But I think they need it,” Cady says with a chuckle. “And I think it would be kinda fun.” 

“Wouldn’t see you in here much after school if you joined them.”

“I guess not,” Cady agrees sadly. “Maybe I’ll wait ‘til next year. I need all the extra time in here I can get, anyway.” 

“That’s an understatement,” Janis says teasingly.

“Hey! I’m getting better,” Cady pouts. 

“You are,” Janis agrees. “Definitely got shadows down, at least.”

“Thanks to you. I got an A- on that lion, by the way,” Cady says.

“Nice,” Janis says with a nod of approval.

“What did you get for your fox?”

“I-I don’t remember,” Janis says with a furrowed brow. “It was so long ago, anyway. Doesn’t matter. Nice job on the lion, though. Proud of you.”

“Thanks,” Cady says. “But seriously, you can’t have only started painting this year. How long have you been doing art?”

“A few years,” Janis admits. “I started in eighth grade. I kinda fell away from it for a bit, but I picked it back up a little while ago and stuck with it. I like it. Helps me focus.”

“That’s nice,” Cady says quietly. Janis nods.

A beat passes. Janis inhales and says, “I went to art therapy. That’s how I got started.”

“Oh,” Cady says. Janis nods again.

“My best friend outed me at the end of seventh grade. It got so bad my parents pulled me out of school for a while,” Janis continues, pointedly not looking at Cady. “The bullying. I missed eighth grade. Came back as a sophomore.” 

“That’s awful,” Cady says. “I can’t believe someone would do something like that.”

“I couldn’t either,” Janis chuckles sadly. “But she did.”

“Did… did the art therapy help?” Cady asks. Janis looks away.

“A little. But like I said, I didn’t stick with it long enough,” she says quietly. She looks back, suddenly, and seems to brighten. “But what do you think about it? Are you turning to the art side?”

“Definitely not,” Cady laughs. “I’m a math person through and through. But I do really like this class. It’s hard, like, really hard. I don’t understand how it’s so easy for some people to listen to words about art concepts and then just… do it. But I like being determined to get something right. It’s a nice feeling. And it’s really satisfying if I do get it. And it’s nice to… make something, I guess. And be proud of it.”

“That’s what got me hooked too,” Janis says. 

“You should be proud of what you make. I really don’t understand how nobody else sees how talented you are,” Cady says. Janis shrugs. 

“You do.”

“Yeah, but I’m only one person.”

“That’s enough for me.” 

Cady smiles up at her, and they booth scoot the slightest bit closer.

—————

Cady’s done weeks of research leading up to Valentine’s day. She cannot mess this up. 

North Shore does a rose sale leading up to it. Cady buys one and signs the little note next to it, but asks to take it with her instead of having it delivered in class by ‘Cupid’. The student council member running the stall at lunch looks a little disgruntled by the breach in protocol, but lets her take the flower. Cady buys a chocolate chip cookie from the lunch line to pair with it and heads to find Janis.

And find her she does. Alone, like always. In the art room, like always. 

“Janis!” 

“Jesus!” 

“Sorry,” Cady says, blushing furiously. “I got you something!” 

“Y-you did?” Janis asks, like Cady’s accidentally speaking Swahili instead of English again. Cady nods eagerly, proffering the cookie and flower. 

“Here!” 

Janis looks at them for a long moment before she hesitantly takes the offered gifts. “Thank you.” 

“Um… they’re for-for Valentine’s day,” Cady admits shyly. 

“Valentine’s day?” Janis asks. “Right. I forgot it was even February already.” 

Cady wants to agree with her, but there’s absolutely no way she could’ve forgotten about this day, even if she tried. “I-I’ve been doing a lot of research about it. We didn’t really do Valentine’s day in Kenya.”

Janis had been smiling faintly at the single flower she’s holding, but looks up at Cady when she finishes speaking. “Research?”

Cady nods. “I… I read that people give flowers and sweets to… to people they… like.” 

Janis’ eyebrows raise high on her head. “Y-you…”

Cady nods. “I really like you, Janis.” 

Janis smiles faintly at her. “I like you too, Cady. I feel bad, I didn’t get you anything.” 

“No, no, it’s okay,” Cady says. “I don’t expect anything. I just wanted you to know.” 

“Message received,” Janis says with a smile. “Thank you. But… are you sure there’s… no one else you’d rather…”

“I’m sure,” Cady interrupts. “It’s been really nice getting to know you, Janis. Even though you look scary you’ve been… really nice to me. You’re one of the only friends I’ve made since I moved here. And I realized a little bit ago that I’d kind of like to be… more than that.” 

Janis looks at her with a smile, still holding her gifts so, so delicately. “I… I’d really like that. Um, Cady…”

“What is it?” Cady asks gently.

“Could you… meet me here after school? Like… after, after school? When nobody else is here?” Janis asks, with a tone so heavy Cady wouldn’t be surprised if she asks her to kill a man next. 

“Of course. I’ll be here,” Cady says. The bell rings, and they both jump. “Oh! Gotta go. See you later.”

Janis nods, and smiles as Cady goes rushing around to gather her things. “Bye.”

Cady waves and rushes out the door without a second thought.

—————

True to her word, Cady meets Janis in the art room after everyone else has left. She thinks this is technically trespassing at this point, but at least if they get busted she and Janis will go down together. 

“Janis?” 

“Cady.” 

Cady jumps as Janis’ voice rings out through the dark classroom. All the lights have been turned off for the day, so the only light comes from the setting sun outside the large windows. “Hi.”

“Hi,” Janis responds quietly.

“What did you need?” Cady asks gently. Janis nods.

“I want to talk to you,” she says. 

“Oh.”

“Not- you haven’t done anything wrong,” Janis says hastily. “The opposite, if anything. I-I love you.”

“I love you too,” Cady breathes with a smile. “But… what did you want to talk about, then?” 

“Do you remember a few months ago, when we were talking about me being… bullied? Ms. Gray came in to help you,” Janis begins. Cady nods. “I… I’ve remembered a lot, since then. God, where do I even begin?” She sighs. “Hey.”

“Hm?” Cady hums delicately.

“Let’s go outside.”

“What? But every time I try to get you to leave, you-”

“I know. But let’s go now,” Janis says. Cady frowns in confusion, but she pulls the door open. Janis gestures for her to go first, so she does. What is going on? 

Janis props the door open and takes a few steps back. She runs at the open door full tilt…

And bounces off. 

She lands on the hard tile floor with a dull thud and a pained swear. 

“Janis, what?” Cady whispers in disbelief. “If you’re taking up mime, now’s not the time to show me.”

“It’s not an act,” Janis says. 

She punches the open space as hard as she can, but as soon as her knuckles would pass the threshold, they bounce off again. Janis tries and tries, but no part of her body ever manages to make it through the doorframe. Cady can’t believe her eyes. She steps back through the door as easily as ever. 

“Janis,” she whispers. 

“I can’t leave,” Janis says, turning to see her. “I’m stuck.”

“Janis, what-what do you mean?” Cady asks shakily, feeling tears start streaming down her face. 

“I didn’t notice at first. But I’ve always been in here, Cady,” Janis responds. “I wake up here every day. After a while, I fade away, and then wake up again in the same place. I’ve always been here.

“I-I said I had started to learn things, since you started talking to me. Remember things. And I… I remember now,” Janis says. “I think you know too. Why-why nobody else talks to me. Nobody else notices me.”

“They… they can’t see you,” Cady realizes. Janis nods.

“I’ve been alone here for years. Kids would come and go. I noticed… a few weird things, but nothing really stood out. But nobody ever, ever talked to me. I tried to leave, and every time, I just bounced back. I got desperate. Started dancing around the classroom and screaming at the top of my lungs. And nobody noticed. Nobody… nobody could see me.”

She turns to look at Cady with tears streaming down her face. Cady reaches for her. “You-you’ve been here for years?”

Janis nods. “I can’t feel or sense time passing anymore. I’ve seen… at least four Christmases and Valentine’s days go by, in here. I can’t be sure exactly how many, anymore.

“Until you. You came, and you talked to me, like it was the most perfectly normal thing in the world. The first one in years. And you… you wouldn’t leave me alone. As we talked, I started remembering things. Just little… flashes, here and there. I started to put things together. To remember. Remember why I can’t leave.”

She takes a step closer to Cady with a soft sob. Cady echoes it. “You’re a ghost.”

Janis nods again. “I-I killed myself here, Cady. I’m not here. I never-never have been. I’ve been gone for years,” she sobs. “My-my internal clock broke with the rest of me. That’s why-why I don’t recognize time anymore. That’s why I’m stuck. Every day, every single day, just repeated over and over and over until it lost… until it lost any meaning. Until you.” 

Cady gasps quietly as she looks at the beautiful girl before her, and notices she can see the wall behind her, through her. Janis… is fading. Disappearing before her eyes. 

“I’m not being bullied. I’m not being ignored,” Janis continues. “They can’t see me. I’m not here.”

“But-but you are!” Cady begs around a sob. “I can see you! I can talk to you!”

Janis is getting more and more translucent as they keep going. She shakes her head. “No, Cady. I haven’t been here for a long time. Not really. I’m… I’m sorry things had to end this way.”

“End? What do you mean end?” 

“Cady,” Janis says. Cady sobs at how echoey her voice is, how far away she really sounds now. “You… you reminded me. You got me unstuck. I have to go.”

“No, Janis, please!” Cady begs, falling to her knees in tears. Janis crouches down and tips up her chin. She’s so cold. 

“I don’t have a choice, Cady, I’m sorry. But listen. I… I have no regrets. I chose to do what I did, and I chose to do it here. I… I wish I hadn’t, now. I wish we got more time together. I would’ve loved to… to talk with you more. See you learn more about painting. Get to know you. Touch you. If I wasn’t… if I wasn’t like this, I would’ve loved to know you.”

Cady throws her arms around her. She can feel Janis, softly. Her cold arms wrap around her too. 

“I’m not in pain,” Janis whispers. “Because of you. But because of you, my… my clock ticks again. My spirit remembers. I remember. And I have to go.”

“No you don’t,” Cady sobs. “I-I’ll come every day, even on the weekends! I’ll come talk to you! You have to stay! You-you can’t go, Janis, you can’t! Dammit, you can’t leave me! If-if-if I do… if I come enough, you-you might be able to leave, someday! I’ll do it!”

“No, Cady,” Janis says, her voice echoing softly in Cady’s ear. “I’ve… I’ve been making up for lost time, with you, my love. You told me everything that happened this year. Even when I was a bitch and didn’t respond or even say hi, you did. The whole year is already done. My… my spirit got to make up for the time I never got to spend here. And… and Cady, I’m… I’ll never be able to thank you enough for that. But I’ll… my spirit can’t stay here forever. My lost time is fulfilled. I’ll stop soon.”

Janis is talking right next to her, in her ear, but her voice is so soft, so distant, that Cady can barely hear her. 

“Don’t cry,” Janis begs around a sob of her own. “I… I’ll see you again someday.”

“Janis, no!” Cady begs, holding tight to the cold, fading form of her beloved in front of her. “No, wait, please! I-I still… there’s so much… so much to tell you. I don’t want this to be-be the last time.”

“It won’t be,” Janis says, with the burning intensity of the strongest oath. “Please, don’t cry. There’s nobody here to mourn. I’ve been gone for a long time, Cady. You’ve given me more than enough. I’m… I’m okay, Cady.”

“But-”

“Cady. Thank you. I love you.”

And with that, Cady’s arms hit her own chest. The coldness is gone, and Cady collapses to the ground. Nothing is there to hold her up. “Janis?!” 

Nothing. 

Cady frantically pats around on the ground, desperately searching for something she knows deep down… isn’t there. Never was. “No, Janis! Please!”

No one answers her.

—-

She stays there a long time, crying and screaming and cursing the world. But when her tears run dry and her throat is hoarse and scratchy, she picks herself up and wipes her eyes. She grabs her backpack and leaves the building. 

She doesn’t look back. 

She walks to the library. To the newspapers. Janis said she’d seen at least four. Four years… 

She finds her in a newspaper from six years ago. In the obituaries. Her photo is there, the same as the day Cady met her. That bright smile, dyed blonde hair with dark roots. Those beautiful brown eyes that Cady fell in love with in the first place. 

Janis Sarkisian, a local student, was found deceased last Friday afternoon by a janitor at North Shore High School. Sarkisian was a junior at the school and died by suicide in one of the art classrooms. 

She is preceded in death by her father, Luca Sarkisian. She is survived by her mother, Juliette Sarkisian, and her younger sister, Juliana Sarkisian. 

Janis was a bright, funny, rambunctious young girl and a joy to be around. She will be dearly missed by all who knew her. In lieu of flowers, the family ask that loved ones donate to the national suicide prevention organization, bullying prevention organization, or the North Shore School District arts department. Her memorial is to be…

Cady traces her face with a finger. She really was gone. The whole time. She was never there. 

She goes home and anonymously donates to the arts department. She leaves a message or just two words. 

For Janis.

—————

Cady doesn’t want it to, but time passes. She almost forgets Janis won’t be there anymore when she walks into art class. 

Eventually, she gets used to it. Kind of. 

She moves on.

She… forgets.

In the spring, there’s a showcase for students in the painting and photography programs to show off their progress through the year to friends and family. Cady dresses up nice, does her hair and a little makeup. She smiles as she reminisces on all the paintings she did. All the work. All the progress she’s made.

She stands next to the little gallery of her works hung up on the wall and accepts compliments and congratulations from some parents, answers questions about them from a few others. 

The hair on her neck stands up as she feels someone… watching her. She turns around.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to stare at you,” the girl says when she notices Cady looking back. “You just… you look really familiar.”

“You do too,” Cady says, tilting her head. She has short, dark hair, cropped to her shoulders. Dark brown, shining eyes. Almost like… but it can’t be. “Do we know each other?”

“I… I don’t know,” the girl says. 

“I’m Cady,” she says quietly. The girl’s eyes widen. 

“I’m… Janis,” she says. Cady feels her own eyes almost pop out of her head.

“You… no you’re not. You can’t be,” Cady says, feeling all the blood drain from her face. “Janis is… she’s…”

“Dead?” Janis asks quietly. Cady nods, biting her lip so she won’t cry. “I thought so too.”

She opens her wallet and pulls out an ID. Sure enough, Janis Sarkisian is written clear as day. The birth date is the same. 

Cady looks closer. Her hair is all brown, now, but… those are Janis’ eyes. Her dimple on the left side but not the other. That smirk. 

“Janis!” she sobs, throwing herself at the girl. “H-how?”

“I’m not sure,” Janis confesses quietly, squeezing her back. 

She’s warm, and solid, holding Cady tightly. She’s… alive. Memories start flooding Cady’s mind, things she and Janis did and said that she had already forgotten. They return so quickly she can barely keep up. 

“Cady,” Janis whispers, and Cady knows the same thing is happening to her. 

“How? How are you… how are you back?” she whispers through a thick, tearful lump in her throat.

“I don’t know,” Janis responds, pulling back to look in her eyes and squeezing Cady’s biceps. “I-I woke up in the art room again. But… different. And… and I left, Cady. I… I couldn’t remember anything since I had died at first, but once I left the room… things came back. I knew I had to find… someone. I’ve been looking for you for so long.”

“So have I,” Cady whispers, cupping Janis’ cheek. She almost can’t believe how real this is. How warm Janis’ face is, how wet the tears streaming down her face feel on her fingertips. 

“I’m here now,” Janis says softly. “To stay.”

“Stay with me,” Cady whispers desperately. She gasps as Janis leans in to kiss her. 

“Always.”

[evilrwbyfan]

dumb headcanons i made during class (some have heavy bias, some are heavyv projections)

all of team strq has anger issues, each of them deal with it differently and some deal with it better than others. tai and qrow are probably the most chillaxed regarding their temper

raven has always found summer intimidating and looks up to her, her crush started around their second year at beacon

ruby hates having dry skin

weiss doesn’t do well with physical touch, but she usually always accepts small stuff like hand holding and shoulder holding, ruby being the exception with more bigger forms of physical affection

raven’s love languages are acts of service, words of affirmation, and physical touch

raven listens to 90s alternative rock when she actually feels like listening to music

yang has a minecraft youtube that she makes videos with, usually showing off her private builds or reviewing mods

weiss cannot be trusted in video games, she will destroy everything unintentionally

ruby bakes, yang grills, blake cooks, and weiss does absolutely nothing. dont trust her near the kitchen

summer is a comic nerd like ruby, before she died she had a box or two just of comic books that have been lent to ruby

blake makes music but she is a beginner. she takes tips from weiss

ruby and sun are fans of weiss’ music, think of swifties sort of likers

raven and cinder’s odd relationship started during their teamup, one night they had a hookup and haven’t stopped having flings every so often. their relationship is built up on hatesex stress-relieving (aka pretty unhealthy) but overtime, they end up falling for the other in some sort of sense and neither of them know what to do

raven still has summer’s cape, she sleeps with it sometimes

ruby’s love languages are quality time, physical touch, and words of affirmation

90% of the rwby cast are trans and gay

during their beacon years, qrow would taunt raven with her crush on summer since he most likely wouldve found out before the others

despite summer’s resentment towards raven, she still cares about her and misses her. she doesnt do anything about it though, both of them know raven can’t really come back from that

winter plays shooters and she’s a fucking boss at it

penny had a youtube where she talked about betta fish (*smiling*)

penny enjoyed walks through the night

blake and yang make card towers together to pass the time, ruby joins in occasionally

cinder is illiterate due to her upbringing

blake probably listens to k-pop and if not blake, then definitely ruby

if fnaf exists in rwby, ruby is a fnaf kid

pyrrha was a painter and taught weiss how to use watercolors. weiss doesn’t paint as much as she used to because of her association of it with pyrrha

ruby and pyrrha did gardening together, granted pyrrha was mainly in control of the garden. ruby was really just there to spend time with her, but she did help with what she could

yang had a small crush on pyrrha when she was around

penny liked to collect things, no matter what it was. usually nature sort of stuff, like rocks and sticks, maybe even sand until it got everywhere

penny made paper puppets

before flash got shut down, sun would make shitty sonic flash games

sun was a newgrounds kid

neo uses her semblance to reach tall things and to bring stuff to her when she doesn’t wanna stand

raven cries listening to autoheart (cause it’s funny)

neon uses her tail to bring people closer to her or to “hold their hands”

ruby always thought neon was cute

summer’s love languages are quality time, physical touch, and gift giving

cinder has trouble connecting with people and she doesn’t try to, so when she felt an unsettling feeling in her stomach due to neo’s (and emerald’s lol) absence she didn’t know how to deal with it

^ (adding onto the emerald note) cinder convinces herself she doesn’t really care about Emerald, because for the most part it IS true, but she was oddly hurt to see Emerald’s change. She got attached to Emerald during their time together (mainly because of emerald’s OWN attachment), but she was never aware of it

blake likes to sleep under beds, but she doesnt tell anyone

90% of the rwby cast is autistic

RUBY IS AUTISTIC!!!!!! and has ptsd (pretty sure the ptsd one is canon tho)

raven has bpd and ptsd

ruby has a lot of ocs she doesnt know what to do with. she doesn’t even remember most of their names

emerald is a roleplayer

weiss prefers to follow schedules and routines heavily

pyrrha and ruby probably wouldve bonded over the pressure of high expectations, being a leader/a warrior, and ended up getting closer that way

during beacon, summer was always the one to make sure raven got to class on time, she would either be late or just try skipping usually. there were rare moments where raven convinced summer to skip with her, just to be alone together

[glimmerbugart]

Featured Creative Art Villager: Melissa

Over the weekend, I received some lovely art work shared with me by one of our Creative Art Villagers, Melissa. Watercolors and doodles galore in these two pieces and they absolutely make me SMILE!

If you’re interested in joining us in the Creative Art Village, where you can enjoy a friendly and supportive online art membership, art projects, creative ideas and more, we’d love to have you!

[raynicole]

What to know before becoming a painter

Painting is such a fun way to express yourself, but I know it can feel daunting to first approach this hobby. Let me guide you through the must-knows of painting to get you started. This is going to be the bare minimum to get you past the barriers of entry so that you can start creating as soon as possible and without much hassle.

(KunstLoft Magazine)

Materials Needed

To get started, you will need the following items.

Paint (in red, blue, yellow, black, and white)

Canvas or canvas paper

Paint brushes

Palette

On-a-budget Alternatives

Paint in monochrome or black-and-white if you’re limited on paint colors.

Use the thickest paper that you already own instead of canvas paper. Just tape down the edges to a flat surface to prevent waves when drying.

Finger painting is a great alternative to using brushes, and it is much more fun.

Use a flat surface like a paper plate instead of a palette.

Remember, there’s no way to paint “wrong.” Use what you have easy access to!

Types of Painting

Painting is a large umbrella category, which holds a lot of different kinds of painting within it. Some of the most popular types of painting include watercolor, gouache, acrylic, tempera, ink, and oil painting.

Decide what type of painting you want to learn. This decision should consider the price, difficulty, and limitations associated with the painting type. 

I recommend that beginners get started with either gouache or acrylic paints. Acrylic paints are likely what people have used in a school art class, so you may already have experience with this paint. Both gouache and acrylic paints are easy to work with. They are water-based paints (meaning you don’t need to worry about buying and handling toxic paint thinners) that behave how you would expect them to.

Watercolor is a good cheap alternative to these options, but know that this paint does require more knowledge to work with it. I recommend looking into some free  tutorial videos or online guidebooks if you want to take up watercolor painting.

The realm of painting has so much to offer and explore. Get started today and see what you like!

[gynii]

i'm gonna beat up my mom's watercolor instructor for being mean to her about not having the exact materials she requested like MY WATERCOLORS ARE PERFECTLY FINE AND YOU ARE TEACHING A BEGINNERS CLASS WHY ARE YOU ASKING YOUR STUDENT TO BUY PROFESSIONAL GRADE TUBE PAINTS????? LIKE HUH???

[isabelmanibardo]

Este viernes en mis clases online de Patreon vamos a hacer un ejercicio buenísimo para principiantes, aprender a pintar con un solo color. This Friday in my Patreon online classes we are going to do a great exercise for beginners, learn to paint with a single color. . . . . . . #arttutorial #artdemo #painting #paintingdemo #watercolor #acuarela #stepbysteppainting #howtopaint #howtowatercolor #sketchbook #sketchdaily #transitionreels #lighthouse #learnwatercolor #learnart #learnfromhome https://www.instagram.com/p/CifNnzFo0aj/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

[dazzlerazz]

Lined paper - Depends on the durability, very useful, versatile, can make many neat pictures using the lines, the go-to for artists in class or beginner artists trying their hands with leftover school supplies

Sketchbook paper - Hardened, beautiful, works amazingly, the best ever, expensive but worth it, smudges occasionally but that’s okay

Sticky notes - smol littol drawings, can stick them up to places! No tape, no rip! Make works of art all connected if you have enough! Fun colors! Easy to misplace, dirt sticks to the back

Printer paper - A lawless land, creates bumps if even a speck of dust is under your paper, not latched to rings, easily lost, bends like a motherfucker, not enough room for lots of doodles, curls easily :C

Watercolor paper - very bumpy with pencil, great for, ya know, watercolor. Buy them in stacks! Fold them into origami if you want! “Watercolor” is just a suggestion anyway. Are you even going to use those watercolors?

Canvas - oho, you want to use pencils to sketch easily before committing to paint? WELL FUCK YOU, you’ve burned through three before even finishing an inch! Big, bulky, do their job and do it right! Beautiful, amazing, paint the sides! Do you even have the wall space to hang these up? Sell them! Emotionally connected to the piece you just painted? Oh, well shit

Tissue paper - These people have nothing left to lose. They will shoot you on sight.

Tracing paper - Too timid to bring out sketchbook in art class, grabbed one of these and just doodling, but also trying not to put in the effort because it’d be a shame if it turned out great and you lost it. Turned out great, lost it at home, but you took a picture, right? RIGHT?

Black drawing paper - Beautiful, elegant, perfect for those few times when you need to use your phone light late at night you’re not BLINDED by the bright light that you can’t turn down against a white sheet of paper. Can only use white or bright colors, a bit more commitment because white colored pencils suck but your eyes are thanking you!

Walls - You are four

[whoiskt]

Evolution of my art. Made this for myself because I wanted to see my own progress but I accidentally just made myself sad with how much of my art I've lost and the years when I hardly drew anything.

2011- One of my first digital art pieces. Redraw of a photo I found on Google. Eyebrow and mouth are immediately off-portion, but as a fully colored piece I think it is pretty good for a beginner. It was really small tho, I didn't understand resolutions yet!

2012- Homestuck phase. A year full of art to choose from, this was one of the last drawings I made that year, and honestly I still think it looks really good. The way I drew eyes back then was totally different.

2013- Supernatural phase. I was doodling a lot on homework and notebooks, but actual finished pieces are hard to find now. I've lost sketchbooks from this era. Perhaps even burned them, haha. This was done on whiteboard.

2014- This self-portrait was my magnum opus at the time, done for art class. There was a level of detailing textures here that I'd never care to revisit and this piece easily could have taken me 50 hours or more to complete. The nose/mouth feels so off to me, now, although I clearly broke my bad habit of drawing small pointed chins with this one. Each year I look at it hanging in my parent's house it makes me cringe more. Charcoal.

2015- Mostly MIA. I have some pen drawings from this time but I thought they were skippable and I only had room for 10 years here. I went to film school so I was focused on that creatively.

2016- Got into watercolor this year. Wasn't done on watercolor paper so it warped a lot. I don't really mind. End of my vanity era. I was in an art class, animation class, and character design class this year. Maybe got a little burnt out on art.

2017- Height of my pen drawing obsession, although most of the drawings I did were at work, and were hung up at work, and may still be there even though I am long gone now? Sorry about the weird crop it was a horizontal piece.

2018- Yes, similar to the previous year, but I see improvement in pen technique. I rarely took time to just sit down and draw other than in-class doodles.

2019- Wedding gift for my sister of her and her husband (although I cropped her out lol). Large watercolor piece where I was rushed and had to finish the background as an abstract fall leaves. I'm still on the fence about it overall.

2020- My digital art renaissance. This was the year I started to really realize I was utterly incompetent at backgrounds.

2021- I was really focused on photography this year, although I did do some sketching here and there. My laptop became mostly unusable for digital rendering so that cut down on my motivation.

2022- I discovered watercolor brushes, my beloved. I closed the door on many of my other creative outlets which seemed to bring back my love, passion, and motivation for drawing again.

Hopefully I can share a 2023 piece with you soon to show my improvements 🤗 I've been sketching a lot like I did back when I was 13 and it feels good!

[threegoblinart]

Your art is amazing!!! The style is sooo pretty. How long does it usually take to finish one piece? And what are some tips for a beginner artist?

Hi friend! Thank you so much, you're just lovely. ❤️

At the moment I'd say a real finished painting can be 8-12 hours of work easily when you factor in sketch thumbnails, practicing tricky things and doing more than one draft.

My Willow at the Window was probably 12 hours because I had to reteach myself so perspective stuff I haven't done for 15+ years since set design class in college.

The drawing I posted today is already 5-6 sketches in my notebook and one previous first attempt with watercolor.

All this time is often over weeks - I work full time, have kids and we have a stupid number of hobbies, lessons, so I draw and paint in little snatches of time here and there.... Frequently at around 11 o'clock at night.

Advice... Oh, settle in and let the Art Mom tell you a tale... No, just kidding. I could regurgitate the usual junk (okay it's not junk and very valid, good advice like - yes you have to practice, use references, invest in quality materials whenever you can, explore different mediums until you find your thing, etc.). But instead I'm going to say this...

Remember two things:

1) art should be something you do because it makes you happy

and

2) remember you're an artist no matter what and be fucking proud of that

About point one, at the end of the day making art should make you happy... So that will mean different things to different people some people can find joy being considered a professional in their field, having art be their source of income and some will not. And that's okay.

I learned this the hard way. I tried to be a professional in my field (theatre) and for a while it was great, but I burned out quickly and realized that tying my livelihood to my art did not make me happy. I did not fail, I learned where my boundaries are to be happy, healthy and creative. So now I draw just for fun, sometimes do small commissions for friends, etc. Maybe one day I'll try to do more (I do have goals, I'd love to do more commissions, have my art in a book, have a small print store), but right now drawing my DND characters and fanart and silly little mushroom houses makes me happy and that's enough. Our worth as artists is not determined by sales or contracts or likes or followers, that's a bunch of consumerist, capitalist bullshit and your art and you are inherently worth more than that.

About point two... You're amazing, yep you, and you're an artist. Art is simply the expression of creativity and imagination and inspiration. It doesn't matter if your art is something on chapel ceilings or the back of your maths notebook - it doesn't matter if it's entirely original (I ❤️ fanart and guess what that stuff on the chapel ceiling is just religious fanart). Are you doing something creative, imaginative or inspired - congrats you're an artist (que Newsies "We're a union just by saying soooo!!!") And there are no other qualifiers based on skill or ability.

Whatever you create is something only you can do.

While it's absolutely fine to work on improvement and goals - it is good to study others work and take classes and learn and seek to improve - be proud of what you're making no matter what because you made it and that alone is amazing!

I learned this the hard way... I stopped drawing for 10 years, and only started again 3 years ago (I'm, ahem, not super young) and I'm still learning to take this to heart. I struggle with comparison and self worth as an artist still, it's not a light switch I can turn off but something I work at (and take medication for - stupid insufficient brain chemistry).

Comparison does nothing but rob you of joy. Be proud of what you can do right now. Be proud of what you could make last week or last year or when you were 6. Be inspired by others, but only compare you to you - that way you only see your improvement and surround yourself with people who will hype you up no matter where you are in skill and ability.

... but also, like, practice ... a lot.

P.S. as bonus these pictures are one of the first things I drew three years ago when I finally said "fuck it I'm going to draw again" and my most recent quick sketch. They both are different in skill and ability, but I'm proud of both.

[capecodartandnature]

My watercolor studio students at @cotuitcenterforthearts stretched themselves today with some quick gestural watercolor sketches of each other in 10 minute poses. These are from two classes—one an advanced beginner and intermediate group, the other more advanced but none of them have much figure drawing or painting experience. Nice job, right? #capecod #artclass #figurepainting #cotuitcenterforthearts #mystudentsrock https://www.instagram.com/p/Ckg5V8AvXkF/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=