#Memory Density

[bbob2reaa]

https://www.futureelectronics.com/p/semiconductors--memory--RAM--static-ram--asynchronous/cy62167ev30ll-45bvxit-infineon-1068579

Non Volatile SRAM memory, What is SRAM, SRAM manufacturers, SRAM chip

CY62167EV30 Series 16 Mb (1M x 16 / 2 M x 8) 3 V 45 ns Static RAM - FBGA-48

[wuggen]

Wait why do we hate John von Neumann

Well okay the reasons implicit in that particular post (software was a mistake, von Neumann's work enabled software to exist as it does, ergo,) are jokes, but there's this

Von Neumann was included in the target selection committee that was responsible for choosing the Japanese cities of Hiroshima and Nagasaki as the first targets of the atomic bomb. Von Neumann oversaw computations related to the expected size of the bomb blasts, estimated death tolls, and the distance above the ground at which the bombs should be detonated for optimum shock wave propagation. The cultural capital Kyoto was von Neumann's first choice,[333] a selection seconded by Manhattan Project leader General Leslie Groves. However, this target was dismissed by Secretary of WarHenry L. Stimson.[334]

>does extensive math to accurately predict and maximize destruction and death toll >first choice of target is civilian cultural capital

[sysig]

Lost my mind thinking about the Vyer Estate (Patreon)

[frank-olivier]

The Ra Contact: A Spiritual Journey of Harmony, Intention, and Connection

In the vast expanse of human spiritual inquiry, few encounters have resonated as profoundly as the Ra Contact, a series of 106 sessions conducted between 1981 and 1984 by Don Elkins, Carla Rueckert, and Jim McCarty. This extraordinary convergence with a sixth-density social memory complex, known as Ra, not only expanded the boundaries of spiritual understanding but also exemplified the transformative power of harmonious connection and unified intention.

Against the backdrop of the late 20th century, a time marked by heightened spiritual curiosity and the quest for alternative knowledge, the Ra Contact emerged as a beacon of innovative spiritual exploration. Don Elkins, a physicist with a deepening interest in spirituality; Carla Rueckert, an intuitive with a background in channeling and meditation; and Jim McCarty, providing technical support, formed a triumvirate that would challenge conventional spiritual and scientific paradigms. Their collaboration, facilitated by the L/L Research organization, would yield a body of work that transcended disciplinary boundaries, speaking to a wide audience of spiritual seekers and scholars alike.

The success of the Ra Contact was fundamentally rooted in the harmonious dynamics among its participants. Carla Rueckert's earlier work with the Inner Light/Outer Light meditation group had laid the groundwork for the empathetic and supportive environment that would characterize the Ra sessions. This synergy, coupled with the group's unified intention to seek profound, metaphysical understanding, created a vibrational resonance that attracted Ra's attention and facilitated the extraordinary connection. The sessions themselves, meticulously documented in the Law of One book series, stand as a testament to the power of collective intention and harmony in spiritual pursuits.

The Ra Contact yielded a plethora of profound insights that continue to inspire spiritual growth and intellectual curiosity. The teachings underscored the interconnectedness of existence, echoing Eastern spiritual traditions such as Advaita Vedanta, and challenging the illusion of separation. The sessions also illuminated the boundless, unconditional love that permeates the universe, a theme paralleled in Christian mysticism and Sufism, encouraging a deeper appreciation for the divine and our place within the cosmic tapestry. Furthermore, Ra's explanations offered a glimpse into the multidimensional complexity of existence, mirroring theories in modern physics such as string theory and the multiverse hypothesis, and inviting a more integrated approach to understanding reality.

The Ra Contact's influence extends far beyond the confines of its original sessions. L/L Research continues to share the Law of One material, ensuring its accessibility to a global audience. The encounter's emphasis on harmony, unified intention, and the pursuit of higher knowledge has inspired a new generation of spiritual seekers and scholars, fostering a community that transcends geographical and disciplinary boundaries. As humanity navigates the complexities of the 21st century, the Ra Contact stands as a beacon, reminding us of the transformative potential of harmonious connection and the infinite possibilities that arise from embracing our shared, spiritual heritage.

The enduring legacy of the Ra Contact is a testament to the profound impact of collaborative spiritual exploration. Through its insights into the nature of reality, love, and unity, this encounter continues to inspire a global community, encouraging a deeper, more integrated understanding of the cosmos and our place within it. As we reflect on the Ra Contact, we are reminded of the boundless potential that emerges when harmony, intention, and a shared quest for knowledge converge, illuminating the path forward for those seeking a more profound connection with the universe and themselves.

Gary Bean: Ra Contact - The Narrow-Band Beam, The Metaphorical Crib, Carla in Sixth Density (L/L Research, November 2024)

Saturday, November 9, 2024

[chororine]

I hope they let Ariel Ladensohn write the sixth episode of every season from now on because "Attack of the Clothes" and "I Know What You Did Next Xmas" were both bangers

[infomen]

Next-Gen 2U Server from HexaData – High Performance for Cloud & HPC

The HexaData HD-H261-N80 Ver: Gen001 is a powerful 2U quad-node server designed to meet the demands of modern data centers, AI workloads, and virtualization environments. Powered by up to 8 x Intel® Xeon® Scalable processors, it delivers unmatched density, performance, and flexibility.

This high-efficiency server supports Intel® Optane™ memory, VROC RAID, 10GbE networking, and 100G Infiniband, making it ideal for HPC, cloud computing, and enterprise-grade applications.

With robust remote management via Aspeed® AST2500 BMC and redundant 2200W Platinum PSUs, the HD-H261-N80 ensures reliability and uptime for mission-critical workloads.

Learn more and explore configurations: Hexadata HD-H261-N80-Ver: Gen001|2U High Density Server Page

[pokemonfrommemory]

2204lbs of cuteness

[santechfoammachines]

Difference Between High Density Foam & Memory Foam

After the day’s sapping, chaos, and exhaustion, all you would yearn for is a night of good sleep. Sleep is when the mind is at peace and the body is in comfort. But, often, that’s not the case. And, good sleep is elusive. Due to various reasons like stress, inappropriate lighting, and improper mattress, your sleep can be disturbed.

Click the link below to read more:

[esotericallyquaint]

You know sometimes I find myself thinking relentlessly about the past, about all the things that happened to me and how I reacted. And suddenly, I start realizing what went wrong and what I could have done or said at that moment which could have made it better. But the thing is, everything happened the way it HAD TO HAPPEN. And it was necessary, if I think about it now. As remarked by someone, "However is our past, it's memories are always sweet." Things can change so fast and I have come so far today that it doesn't really bother me. It's not a feeling of regret, just thoughts, mere thoughts, that are winding the events of the past incessantly, singing the sweet memories, but somewhere, there exists a pale darkness where the music doesn't play anymore. Every darkness has it's own density. Densities are impalpable, and yet have it's own sound, smell and taste.

Perhaps, everything contains a different kind of darkness. Memories are the iridescent play of several distinct darknesses that appear to form colors, vivid images and the pastel light across it, with it's attached sound, smell and taste.

We see darkness as an absence of light. But what if it's the interplay of these darknesses that create the light? We can perceive light because we perceive darkness first.

Similarly, we also come from a place of darkness, the memories forms us from the inside, singing deep within us, and the person we have become today, is again nothing but the interplay of those darknesses around you and within you.

We have to see the LIGHT. Be it the past, the present or the future.

Else, everything is but a darkness.

—V

[livinghostly]

i will hold on to you for as long as you let me — megumi fushiguro x mom!reader, satoru gojo x reader

a/n: sorryyy the fushiguro-gojo family dynamic was rotting my brain and i needed this out of my system. LOTS of projection of my fear of growing up in this one soz. this was fully meant to be a drabble and it just kept going idk wc: 3.1k angst/fluff. mom!reader has a lot of bittersweet thoughts about megumi growing up and satoru is there to comfort <3 lots of parentheses and lots of repetition

you put on a brave face all day. all week, even. despite the burn in your chest that engulfed your lungs and squeezed unrelentingly. despite the tears that burned the corners of your eyes delicately balancing on the your waterline, one blink away from breaking the surface density and opening the floodgates to pour down your cheeks. despite the non-stop ache of your stomach, churning what you ate every day but still holding the same emptiness as anxiety consumed you.

megumi didn’t pack much, he never held on to many things to begin with. (you always prayed for that to change, for his comfort your home. you prayed he would see it as his own, as well). he neatly folded his clothes into his suitcases and stacked his hangers on top. he purchased a new sheet set for his bed in the dormitory because the one he was used to was much bigger, much softer. 

he packed most of his books, carefully picking out the ones that tugged at the nostalgic parts of him, frayed along the edges after many years of re-reading, as well the ones that still had vibrant covers and stiff spines he hoped to finish. you noticed the leather journal he kept tied together– the ink-blotted pages bursting at the seams –sitting on the shelf before he tucked it into his box of personal belongings. it was his third one since living with you, all filled to every last page and used beyond ruin. the rest were hidden between his headboard and the wall. you pretended not to know, after stumbling upon them while changing his sheets.

closing the door to your home felt eerily empty. it looked the same as every day. the couch was cleaned and the floors swept. dishes rinsed and promptly put away. but with your lingering gaze your mind fixated on the dining table set for four, two adult pairs of shoes at the door, one pink backpack slumped on the hook of the closet door with an empty space below. your chest twisted at the lack of clutter, though it’d been like that for some time, with tsumiki and megumi growing older and cleaning up after themselves properly like you taught them. like you wanted. the pride you initially felt with those memories of parenting were becoming eclipsed with resentment and despair.

the ride to school was quick and familiar, megumi knew well what he was getting into after visiting there to train. satoru liked to call them little getaways from megumi’s civilian life, claiming he wasted too much time around non-sorcerers when he could be on missions with his ever-loving benefactor instead.

satoru, who was whining while he laid himself across the three seats in the back of your car. you’d banished him there for such a special occasion, and he threatened to transport himself to the school alone. an empty threat, at best. he didn’t want to miss this. 

megumi had sparred with the older students and found himself thrown around the field many times already. he knew his way to the infirmary by heart, he knew where gojo tucked away his most powerful curse-imbued weapons (that were supposed to be under the surveillance of higher ups), and knew what letter-number combination granted him the ginger chips nobody else seemed to like. 

you were glad he was comfortable. you were glad he would fall into routine easily after the repeated trips to jujutsu high and developing a rapport with his upperclassmen. you’d waited for the day that he’d truly be part of the jujutsu world and welcomed into a better suited environment for people like him. and you knew he would be great, he already possessed an incredible technique and wielded it like he’d been fine-tuning it since birth. far ahead from most kids his age, you were proud.

still, your gut was sinking, sinking, sinking into the floor with each passing second.

megumi picked his room in one of the far-away corners of the boys dormitory, leaving inumaki and panda heartbroken (panda said he would find a way to organize sleepover. megumi said he would drop out before that happened. inumaki cried– no, wailed at the rejection). yuuta fell into step with you, slipping one of the boxes out of your hands and insisting on helping instead. it was sweet, if it didn’t feel like he was ripping precious time away from you.

but you smiled, and granted his wish. megumi wasn’t complaining, he liked yuuta more than the others. it was a good chance for them to talk more. all of this, a chance, a new chapter, the rest of his life. the thoughts weighed on your shoulders with a disgusting strain traveling to your fingertips.

you were painfully aware you were in your own head, doing this all to yourself. he wasn’t going away, you would still be seeing him, more than you used to when he went to his other schools. he would always be here.

satoru found you in your classroom, while you were organizing the stationary with an unnaturally stiff composure. your arms were tense, he could see the muscles constantly flexing with each of your movements.

your jaw was clenching and unclenching again. you made a point not to look outside, where the second-years were training brashly after successfully moving their things back into their dorms. you made a point not to meet satoru’s dangerous stare as he shut the door to your classroom, as if it granted any privacy with the seven large windows running along the wall that showcased the hallway. 

“what are you doing all by yourself, beautiful?” his tone was soft and inviting, begging you to open up and let yourself fall against the cushion of his words. 

“um,” you exhaled, voice shaky. you scrunched your face to break apart the tension that had hardened your expression. “i figured i would get a few things ready for tomorrow.”

it took satoru’s long legs two-and-a-half strides to meet you at your desk, where you gently shut the drawer. there were a handful of dated photographs in there, signed with his name and the chicken scratch of two children. 

“it’s all ready, baby. we did that last week.”

(correction: you did it. he tagged along for the shopping trip).

“there’s just… a few things...” you mumbled, not finding the strength to finish your own sentence. 

satoru gently placed his hand on your shoulder, emitting inhuman warmth that spread across your skin. you leaned into him as he dragged his hand down your arm and intertwined your fingers with the care of handling fine china. his presence brought you solace, effortlessly bringing the walls down that you desperately wanted to wait until you got home to break.

he kissed the back of your hand and rubbed the skin. “you know you’re going to see him every day, right?”

it was embarrassing how well satoru knew you, knew your thought process like it was an extension of his own. he knew your doubts and insecurities, your fears and desires. he could predict the words before they came from your mouth, more in tune with the way you spoke than his mother tongue.

“mhm.”

“you know we’re going to be the ones chaperoning his missions, right?”

you closed your eyes and looked away. “i know.”

“do you remember when he said he’d like to go home some weekends, and have dinner?”

“he said that to be nice.”

“when has he ever been nice?”

you opened your eyes to glare at him, though he was right. megumi was not nice. he was polite. he was too self-aware for his own good, too perceptive of others and their emotions. in all the time that you’d known him, raised him, he made himself smaller for the convenience of others. he walked on his tiptoes for a year and a half so no one else would wake up because of him. he made his own breakfast and bit back his tears when he burned himself. he didn’t ask for things or food and didn’t offer his input unless asked directly. for some time, he was a ghost in his own home. 

it seemed as soon as the bits of his shell started to break off, he was being swept away from you by the jujutsu world, leaving you with looming fears that consumed your mind and disrupted your sleep for weeks.

satoru smiled, though it was weighed down with your sadness. “hey, he’s not going anywhere, you know that. just because you’re not driving him home everyday doesn’t mean he’s gone.”

it’s funny, it’s nearly the same speech he gave you when tsumiki started middle school. and when megumi followed those same steps.

tsumiki didn’t make it this far, though.

the thought makes your lip wobble again, and you bite it back pathetically.

“i know. i know that. it’s just that…” your voice cracked, and you shoved your head in your hands. your palms squeezed your eyes in a desperate attempt to stop the already-flowing tears. “he’s not my little boy anymore.”

satoru’s soothing hands pull you into a tight hug, and you don’t have it in you yet to move your hands from your face. his embrace makes you sob harder, louder as all your emotions from the last week begin to pour out at once. his chest rumbled with your cries, and he tucked you further under his arms as if to shield you from what was making you hurt so much. it was all you.

“baby…” he chuckled, without a hint mirth or mockery. he squeezed you with compassion and adoration. “you know that’s not true. he’s still pretty short, he’s got another growth spurt coming.”

a small laugh slipped through, but was quickly drowned out by your cries.

“he’ll be okay. he’s still here.”

he was so, so warm. he gently began to rock back and forth with you, the heels of your shoes gently clicking on the tile floor. a small hiccup erupted from you as you found the strength to wrap your arms around him, burying your face into his chest. the familiar thrum of his heartbeat welcomed you.

“i know, i’m sorry. i know he’s not leaving, or anything… i just… i thought i was ready.” you blubbered into his button-up. surely, there’d be two wet spots where your eyes were when you pulled away.

he swayed side to side with you, staring at the blackboard ahead of him. he nestled his chin on the top of your head, wondering if you could hear the cracks tearing through his heart. “it’s okay if you’re not ready. but you’re treating this like it's goodbye.”

“but what if we don’t get a goodbye?”

“okay, you really are overthinking this,” he pulled away from your embrace, your fingers still digging into the material of his shirt. he brushed away the hair covering your eyes, stuck to your skin by the wetness of your cheeks. streaks ran through your foundation and the corners of your eyes were smudged. “there you are. so pretty.”

it was silly how he believed he could make things better like that. it was silly that he was a little bit right.

“don’t think for a second i’ll let megumi be sent on a mission he can’t handle. he’s going to be fine.”

satoru’s love ran deep. for you, for megumi, for all his students. he fought curses everyday for you, rotted himself with his technique and stitched himself back up in a moment’s notice to fight for you. to come home to you. all of humanity be damned, those closest to him were the ones he fought for, and he would do everything in his power to preserve their lives.

he already towed the line with the higher-ups and their conservative rules and regulations, but he would tear them down if you asked. for megumi, he’d fight tooth and nail to see that he wasn’t being sent off on a mission ill-prepared. under his watch, things would be different for his students. 

you nodded meekly, wiping away your tears with one hand. “i hate when you’re right, toru. it’s really annoying.”

he smoothed down your hair and grinned. “i know, just let me have this one, though.”

his sweet murmurs filled your ears, along with the gentle shuffling of your clothes as you made yourself presentable again. you balled up your sleeves and patted the corners of your eyes gently, and he straightened out the hem of your shirt. it was wrinkled, a reminder of how harshly you clung to him.

you smiled at the water stains on his shirt now, and he claimed it was in need of dry cleaning anyway.

neither of you noticed the eyes of megumi and yuuta, both stuck in place at the very corner of the windows leading to the hallway. they had training staffs with them, megumi’s grip becoming tighter as he watched you wipe your eyes and knock your head into satoru’s chest lazily. your shoulders low, clearly drained from the amount you cried. 

yuuta was frozen, eyes flickering from you to megumi repeatedly. he found his courage in placing a hand on his shoulder, a feather-light grip. “hey, let’s go through the east wing. i’m pretty sure it’s faster that way.”

it wasn’t. but megumi nodded anyway, begrudgingly tearing his gaze from you and turning around with yuuta. 

you stared down the red light of the intersection with a blank face, blank mind. letting it all out of your system had successfully flushed out your emotions, taking the rest of your energy along with it. the car was painfully quiet, but no part of you wanted to listen to anything.

satoru was whisked away by yaga, being delivered another mission he swore would take less than a day. ‘less than twelve hours’, he promised to be back for megumi’s first day. he would make it.

it was dark, and you milked all the time you could on school grounds. speaking with yaga and shoko, running through the still-developing information of missions to be sent on. cleaning the classrooms. the lockers. stocking the teachers lounge. dusting the armory. before you knew it the curfew ushered the students into their dorms.

a ringtone broke through your thoughts, making you jump. though the tune was soft, the sudden intrusion made it much more shrill. you fumbled with your phone in the passenger seat, seeing megumi’s contact on the screen.

“hello?”

“hey, mom?”

it took everything you had left not to gawk. he said it before, sparingly in desperation for comfort. his voice was quiet, a near-whisper despite the fact he was alone in his dorm. like he was nervous.

“yes, megumi?”

“um… are you home?”

you wondered if he forgot something. “no, i’m still driving. are you okay?”

“i’m fine, i just… can’t sleep, i guess…” he trailed off, hoping for you to fill in the gap.

“oh. okay. did you take–“

“do you think you could pick me up?” he interrupted. “and i just stay home tonight? you could drive me in the morning.”

you were quick to dissolve into a smile, pointed at the streetlamp on the sidewalk. sadness struck your eyes but you were too occupied by the warmth of his question to feel it.

“yeah. i can be back there in a few minutes, just let me turn around.”

“thanks.”

he didn’t hang up. neither did you. the silence lived on for a few seconds.

“mom?”

“yeah?”

“… gojo’s on a mission, right?”

you laughed, your hand sliding across the steering wheel as you reouted back to the school. “yeah, megs, he’ll be gone tonight.”

“he’s back tomorrow?”

“yeah, we can leave before he gets home.”

“thanks.”

bonus:

satoru tiptoed through the entrance of your home, brushing his blindfold over his hair and peeling it off his head. he hung it up with his keys, lax arms nearly missing the hook on the closet door meant for him. it was beyond late, and he was tired, but he was home like he said he would be.

he bent down to tie his shoes, buffering momentarily as he caught a glance of well-worn sneakers at the front door. they were as clean as they could be, though scuffed rubber turning gray and the laces becoming frayed where they were tightened most.

satoru made a grunt in acknowledgement to no one but himself, as he tossed his shoes down. he glanced around the living space, cautiously bringing himself to each room with a curious itch to scratch. a third pair of shoes. both backpacks on the door. dishes for two placed on the drying rack. 

he was expertly quiet by nature, but found himself avoiding the squeaky floorboards on the stairs and all the way to the hallway. he was greeted with a blue sign, corners covered with dog stickers. the frilly handwriting of tsumiki warding off unwanted visitors with the phrase: “megumi’s room. keep out!!”

the door opened quietly, satoru pushing it open to the limit and stopping before it would let out an ungodly squeak. he insisted on never getting it fixed, knowing it bothered megumi.

megumi had his face shoved in his pillow, a desperate attempt to block out any light creeping through the crack of his bedroom door or the streetlamp just outside the window. he was always a light sleeper, always on edge, sleeping with his back to the wall so if something barged in the night he was ready. it was horrible he thought that way, you always said. 

his duvet covers were black and white plaid, per his request three years ago when he begged to be free of the puppy sheets. still, he seemed small, curled up in a ball. his face was released of the usual tension and his light breathing filled the room. for a moment, he was little again.

satoru smiled, taking a step back and closing the door gently.

[cuntyji]

cw: suggestive , reader has tiddies/wears a bra/fem-bodied

you’ve heard the phrase "get that man a bra" before. people say it as a joke, a way to poke fun at dudes with substantial pectoral mass. but your toji? oh, he wasn’t just a man in need of a bra—he was the reason bras existed.

the sheer density of those things. they weren’t just pecs; they were mega milkers, genetically blessed jugs of goodness, god-given war crimes of mass destruction. no one should have tits that big and not wear some form of support. but you, naïve and unsuspecting, had never thought he’d actually take action on this very real issue.

so when you came home after a long, exhausting day, all you wanted was to lay on top of him, soak in his warmth, and let his big ol’ chest pillows cradle your weary soul. but the second your face met his torso, something was off.

where was the plush? where was the give? where was the comforting, all-natural memory foam of his pecs? instead of the usual soft, heavenly bounce-back, you were met with a rigid, unyielding force.

"… babe?" you mumbled, lifting your head slightly. you poked at his chest. it didn't jiggle. it didn't even budge. your heart rate spiked. this was unnatural.

“hmm?” toji replied lazily, his arm draped over his forehead, completely unfazed.

you poked again. harder. then squinted up at him. suspicious. too suspicious.

your eyes flicked to his shirt. then back to his chest. then back to his shirt. something was lurking under there, and you weren’t sure if you were emotionally prepared for what you were about to uncover.

but then, to your absolute horror, he smirked and casually lifted his shirt.

you gasped.

he stuffed himself into a sports bra.

your sports bra.

your brand-new, high-support, for-the-girlies-only sports bra.

it was stretched to its absolute limit, fabric screaming for relief. you swore you saw the seams trembling under the immense pressure of his pecs.

"bro," you whispered in pure betrayal.

toji, completely unfazed, propped himself up on one elbow and rolled his shoulder. "pretty good, right? keeps ‘em locked in. no bounce."

"NO BOUNCE?!" you shrieked, sitting up so fast your head spun. "YOU KILLED THEM. YOU SLAUGHTERED THEM. THEY'RE SUFFOCATING. RELEASE THEM IMMEDIATELY."

he had the audacity to chuckle.

“nah, i like it," he said, adjusting the straps like some kind of deranged lululemon ambassador. "real snug. back support’s nice too."

you were about to pass away.

"toji," you inhaled, voice shaking. "you ruined my brand new bra."

"nah," he shrugged, reaching for the remote. "just stretched it out a little."

stretched it out a little. a little. A LITTLE.

he turned to look at you, finally noticing the sheer emotional devastation on your face. then, after a beat, he smirked.

"you jealous?"

you grabbed a pillow and swung.

[bernardsbendystraws]

You Don’t Own Me

SERIES MASTERLIST

Chris Sturniolo lives by his own rules, refusing to be controlled. Some see him as a rebel, a troublemaker—but is that the full truth? Meanwhile, Y/N is focused on making the most of her last year of high school, determined to have a normal teenage experience. But when their worlds collide, they realize they may have more in common than they ever expected.

WARNINGS: COPYRIGHT NOTICE. Smut, slight fingering, dry humping, male!receiving, kissing, flashing, nudity

A/N: Is this 10 pages of tension and smut? Pretty much! Also this is barely proofread tbh...

With love and big tits, Rose

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

P20: Dreamy Reality

His hands are warm—and a bit pruney. The lake is barely glowing, the remaining sunlight above the horizon having an orange glow that cascades on the ripples of water beautifully. 

“Fuck.” I curse. 

Of course it happened. 

This dumb top had slipped undone the second I let my hands loose, forgetting to hold it manually up. My toes are barely brushing against the bottom. I struggle to keep my forearm sprawled over my chest in an attempt to keep some sort of decency. 

“Here, lemme help,” Chris laughs, coming behind me and brushing my hair to the side. 

The air seems to wither to a soft gust of wind, the only sound being a couple ruffeling branches and wandering leaves. Grey clouds swarm above us. I feel his hand delicately knot the bikini top around my neck, his fingers drifting down onto my upper arms as he leans down, his lips brushing against my ear from behind me.

I don’t get it. 

One second, we’re messing around, playing mermaids, acting like kids. The next minute, it’s this—the sort of tension that’s unbearably dreamy. 

My pulse hammers against my chest. The sliver of sunlight droops below the horizon, the heavy clouds above us starting to shift the density of the air as light pebbles of rain drop on the surface of the lake. 

“We should, um…” Chris mumbles, lightly massaging over my arms, “-we should��should go back before our towels are drenched.”

I nod my head, turning around in his hold as he stares through me. 

My mouth runs dry, my lips parting as I let my eyes wander down to his lips. The memory of how good it feels sucks me into a portal of thoughts, my mind lingering towards every echoing sensation I can remember from the last time we kissed.

It always made me burn with an electrifying, yet comforting warmth. 

The only time I could recall feeling any sort of similarity was going home after being in the snow and bitter cold all day. Wrapping up in a blanket, turning on the fireplace, and drinking hot chocolate. 

It’s overbearingly warm, but it feels good. 

A heavy drop of rain falling on my nose makes us both freeze before laughing. Chris grabs my hand floating on the surface of the water, pulling me towards the dock before climbing up the ladder, offering me a hand as we both stand on the wooden platform.

“Geez,” he huffs, unfolding a towel before wrapping it around my shoulders as we watch the wooden planks splotch with rain, every inch getting more drenched by the second. 

Greedily, I hold the towel around me tighter, slipping on my flip flops as I watch him get the other towel. Chris slings it over himself, holding the cloth together with one hand before reaching his free hand downward, intertwining his fingers in my own. 

A puddle of warmth in the bottom of my stomach erupts, traveling up to my chest as he gives me a gentle smile. 

“Ready?” he asks. 

Nodding, I start to take steps alongside his own. 

___

I don’t know what we’re doing. 

The shower water is pelting softly on my skin, the pressure flicking against my nipples as I feel him stand behind me. 

“Is this…is this okay?” he asks, gently massaging more soap on the underside of my breast. 

Humming in response, I let myself lean further against him. His fingers drift over the sensitive bud, his breath heavy against my neck as he moves his hand with care. 

There’s two showers, there was absolutely no reason for this to be happening. Especially not when we both need to get warm and Chris refuses to let me stand out of the hot water for even a second. 

But he doesn’t feel cold. He feels like a searing warmth of comfort, a tingling heat that leaves my skin aching for more of his touch. 

My lips gape open as he lightly pinches the nub, rolling it between the pads of his fingers. I feel him everywhere—his breath, his lips, his hands, his chest…

And I feel it—him. Hard and throbbing behind me. 

“God, so pretty…” he whispers, the words so quiet that I can’t tell if he’s telling me or talking to himself. Either way, it makes my stomach drop. 

A depleted sigh escapes my mouth as his hands maneuver to my waist. I miss his hands on my chest. There’s something about the sultry act that’s so intimate yet pure. 

We’re moving dangerously slow physically, but it’s so intense that it’s hard to endure every subtle touch. 

My breath hitches as his fingers curve over my hip. The pulse in my ears seems to echo other places, my legs feeling weaker as my inner thighs start to burn with desire. 

“Chris.” I gasp, his hand dancing hesitantly into the crease of my upper thigh and pubic bone. 

“Can I…I won’t do too much, I just…fuck,” he rasps, his free hand resting over my stomach with a flat palm, keeping me planted directly against him. “-just wanna touch you.” 

“M–mhm,” I hum, giving him approval. 

One of my hands clutches up into his hair as his chin rests in the crook of my neck, the other clutching onto his wrist over my stomach as I feel his fingers prod lower. 

God. 

I feel dizzy. 

Chris huffs with a small laugh, pulling his free hand over my stomach a little tighter as he clutches me closer. “You good?” he asks. 

My eyes roll as I feel him stop directly above the heat radiating from my core. I hum again, but Chris retracks his hand slightly, a whine pushing through my lips as my inner thighs tense. 

“I wanna hear it—want you to tell me this is okay,” he says. 

There’s something about his voice. It’s deeper, more apparent with genuine intention. I let myself inhale shakily, mindlessly clutching onto his wrist tighter as I nod. 

“Please, Chris. I—I want you to touch me.” I remark, my tone barely above a whisper. 

A sharp moan erupts through my lips. His fingers gently glide through my wet folds, accompanied by the running water that seems to pelt directly against my throbbing clit. 

“You know,” he kisses along my neck, his fingers exploring through my heat, circling around the puffy bud, “-I promised I’d try to keep my hands to myself, but fuck…you make it impossible, you know that?” he purrs, sucking on the spot directly beneath my ear.

It’s all so overwhelming. The subtle touches were already overbearing. Hell, even the way he looked at me felt like too much sometimes. 

This is a new kind of high. My mind is astray, the only thoughts all tracing back to him and this moment. I feel dizzy, my knees buckling as I let myself relax further against him, letting his arm support the majority of my weight. 

“Ch—Chris,” I whine.

I feel him smirk against my neck. He kisses over my pulse, the slight movement of his fingers between my legs becoming utter torture. 

“-’m sorry, sorry,” he coos, slowly moving his fingers back up, petting over the lower part of my stomach, “-don’t wanna move too fast, but—god, you make it so….” I feel his length pressed against my backside, my imagination running rampant as he slightly grinds himself onto my damp skin. “-so hard.” he says.

The double meaning of his words is evidently apparent. My eyes roll to the back of my head, my chest heaving as I try to catch my breath. 

“We should get out,” he mentions. 

I hum thoughtlessly, my brain occupied by dirty thoughts of how good it will feel when he stretches me with his—

“C’mon,” he tuts, pulling me out of my own head with a subtle squeeze on my hip. “-let’s dry off and get warm before we end up falling or—or….moving too fast.” 

___

The storm is only growing worse. Rain turned into slight hail, the pebbles knocking relentlessly on the windows of the house as we lay on the couch in front of the burning fireplace. 

“Yeah, I think it might be best to stay the night,” Chris points, his hands rubbing over my bare legs that are sprawled across his lap. 

Mia didn’t pack pajamas for me. Afterall, this wasn’t a part of Chris’ plan, the storm wasn’t even accounted for in the weather this morning either. 

Now I’m sitting next to him on the couch, in front of the fireplace with his hands thoroughly massaging my legs while I’m dressed in his T-shirt. 

Chris has grey sweats hanging low on his waist, the hem of his briefs sticking out from the waistband just slightly. 

Focus. 

I keep repeating the statement to myself, swallowing thick amounts of saliva, hoping to not accidentally drool. He looks hot. His hair is still slightly damp, his hands more certain as they grip along my thighs and calves.

“I swear I didn’t mean to keep you trapped or anything. There’s multiple beds, I can—” 

I lean forward, pressing a swift kiss on his lips to silence his worried rambling. My eyes look into his, the slight gleam of blue vibrance making my heart feel softer in my chest. 

“Chris,” I start, petting over his cheek as I cup his jaw, “-it’s okay. I know you didn’t plan this and…it’s not like we don’t have sleepovers anyhow.” I puff, laughing dryly. 

It’s not like I can sleep without him either. Even when I did somehow manage to drift off, I never woke up refreshed. Without him, I felt like I got hit by a bus in the mornings. 

“I know, but…I don’t want you to think I wanted to take you here for…ugh, I just—I really am trying. I…I want you to see that.” he states. 

“Chris.” My head swivels from side to side, a gasp of disbelief falling from my lips. “How could I think otherwise? This—this is the most special I’ve felt in a while. I mean—you woke me up at 5 in the morning, with bacon, driving us here.” I breathe. 

He licks over his lips. I readjust myself, laughing slightly as his face falls from my legs being pulled from his grip. 

As I stand in front of him, he stares wide-eyed as I sit down, straddling his lap. I smile at his shocked expression. My hands comb through his hair, my chest fluttering as I feel his hand gently rest on the tops of my thighs. 

Taking a deep puff of air, I resume the explanation, “-you made sure Mia packed me a bag, you got us good fucking food, and you even gave me a stuffed animal after taking me to be with all those animals.”

I shift in his lap, scooting impossibly closer as he wraps both his arms around me. “Chris. This is all perfect.” I pronounce, dipping my head down to brush the tips of our noses together playfully. 

“You’re perfect.” he remarks, pressing a gentle kiss to the corner of my mouth. 

Chris pulls back, but he doesn’t move far. I still feel the tickle of his breath against my mouth, the gulp he swallows echoing and filling me with a bit of pride. 

The look in his eyes is hypnotizing. My body seems to gravitate more towards him, his tongue gliding and licking over his lips swiftly as he lets out a shaky breath of anticipation. 

I lean forward, capturing his lips on my own. Chris moans into my mouth, swallowing a groan as he holds me a bit tighter, his lips slotting between mine as I feel a warmth of knots tangle in the pit of my gut. 

“Perfect, so perfect,” he coos, barely pulling away for a breath before reattaching himself to me. 

Hungrily, I kiss him back. I feel dizzy in his arms, leaning more onto him, melting in his hold as he hugs me even closer. 

A chorus of errotic moans echoe through the room. 

When Chris instinctively pulled me tighter against him, he pushed me directly on top of the hard bulge in his sweats. 

Our eyes meet. His lips are parted, his cheeks are flushed. I feel my hands clasp onto his shoulders for balance, hesitantly rolling my hips with purpose. 

“God, fuck,” he rasps, his eyes squinted shut as his teeth bit into his lower lip. 

Repeating the motion, I’m caught off guard as he desperately attaches his mouth back onto mine, his tongue greedily wandering my mouth as hums and moans vibrate between our lips. 

Fuck.

I break the seal between our lips. My chest rises and falls rapidly, gasping for breaths as his lips trail down the side of my neck sloppily. 

“Chris,” I moan, my brows knitting together as he controls my hips with his hands, grinding me onto the thick bulge that glides perfectly through my panties. 

His forehead rests against my collarbone. My hands tangle in his hair, pulling as he hits directly against my sensitive bud that seems to be pulsing with need. 

“Fuck, baby,” he mutters, gripping me tighter, dragging me down with more force as I feel his tip poke against my entrance through his sweats and my underwear. 

So close, yet so far.

His hands stop momentarily. But between the throbbing heat between my legs and the sounds spilling from his mouth, all my body can do is chase the pleasure. 

“Don’t—don’t wanna…go too fast-” 

I cut him off, yanking on his hair even more. The motion pulls a deep groan from his lips. Vibrations from the noise against my collarbone seem to multiply across my body, piling in the bottom of my stomach as I roll my hips sloppily. 

“Let’s just…just do this—please, I,” a helpless whine falls from my lips, my thighs burning with a relentless pressure as I lose the rhythm of my movements. “-so close, please, I—”

“Yeah?” Chris husks, leaning up, pushing back some of the hair sticking to my sweaty forehead. My mouth drops into a perfect circle. One of his hands cups behind my head, pulling me into the crook of his neck, the other hand halted on my hips, grinding me hard against him. 

My legs quiver with every upwards motion of his hips lifting from the couch. I let my hands tangle in his hair, shrieks and gasps falling from my lips as I feel myself edge closer and closer to the unwavering euphoric bliss. 

“I—Chri—my god,” I pant, crying as he ruts himself perfectly against me. 

He cradles my head in the crook of his neck firmly. “There you go,” he coos, keeping his actions the same as I let out a cry followed by a deep moan, “-that’s it, c’mon—fuckkkk,” he purrs, riding me through the high as I shake and tremble on his lap. 

It takes me a minute to catch my breath, but when I do, realize how pained he looks. 

He didn’t finish. 

My panties are soaked. I look down between our bodies, an evident wet spot making my already warm cheeks flourish with even more vibrance. 

“Fuck, that’s hot…” Chris whispers, mostly talking to himself. 

I shriek as his fingers touch me through my underwear, jolting from the overstimulation. 

“Sorry, I—sorry,” he swallows, unable to stop himself from pushing his bulge down, almost as if he’s trying to relive some of the ache. 

The familiar thought of his dick in my mouth makes my heart jumble in my chest. 

Chris helps me as I try to stand up with shaky legs, his hands firm on my hips. I let my knees sink onto the floor, my hands resting over his thighs as I stare up towards him. “Can I?” I ask, sliding my fingers up further. 

The look on his face almost makes me laugh. He’s shocked, his eyes wide as his lips open and shut repeatedly. 

“I–uh, you don’t—we—I,”

A giggle erupts from my throat at his chaotic rambling. “I want to.” I mention, hesitantly sliding my palm against the fabric of his sweats until I feel his dick beneath the clothes. 

Chris freezes at the touch. I smile with lustful eyes as he blinks down at me with uncertainty. “Are you…are you sure? We don’t need to rush anything—”

“I want it so bad, Chris.” 

The words rolling off my tongue seem to make his eyes roll before my hand gently strokes him through his sweats. He nods quickly, his lips parted with helpless puffs of air as his hands start to push my hair behind my shoulders. 

“Fuck, okay, just—shit, baby,” he hisses, tangling his hands in my hair as I quickly pull his length out of his pants. 

God. He’s big. 

Each vein running along his length makes my mouth water uncontrollably, the thought of feeling each detail inside of me making the yearning to taste him even stronger. 

I lean forward, holding him by the base as I gently press a wet kiss onto his sticky tip. Peering up, Chris is now staring directly at me, his stomach tensing and relaxing repetitively as he bites down hard on his lip. 

“So big, Chris,” I coo, gasping as he tugs my hair harder. 

“Sorry, sorry,” he rushes, petting over the sore spot on my scalp before making the same make-shift ponytail. 

Gathering a wad of spit in my mouth, I stick my tongue out, gliding the muscle against his length slowly. His hips slightly lift off the couch, his tip sliding across my cheek before he mumbles another apology. 

“You’re…driving me crazy.” he mumbles. 

A grin sprawls across my face as I look up at him. I roll my tongue around his tip, pride gathering in my chest as he lets out a pitiful noise. 

“Good.” I reply, sucking gently around the top of his length, humming as I taste the salty and clean essence of his pre-cum. 

Chris is gone. His hands are tighter in my hair, pulling too hard before dropping as I let out a whine. I watch as his fists gather the couch cover in a white-knuckled grip, my mouth watering even more as he lets out a moan of my name. 

The pulsing in my stomach is accompanied by determination. I swallow more of him. My eyes watering as I feel his length driving into the back of my throat while I bob my head up and down. 

“God—fuck, b–baby,” he struggles, his cock twitching in my mouth as I jerk off the bottom portion of what I can’t accommodate any further down my throat. 

It’s everything. The way he tastes, the way he sounds, and fuck—the way he looks is breathtaking. Head thrown back, his stomach clenching, his hands helplessly drifting for some sort of grounding, and jaw slack with a bit of drool catching in the corner of his mouth. 

I force myself to take more of him, pride consuming me as I hear him let out a string of curses. 

“Gonna—’m gonna—fuck, I’m gonna cum. Don’t—don’t have to—holy shit,” he groans, stilling as his hips drive further into my mouth as I try to take him all. 

I gag, unable to taste anything as a warm sensation erupts down my throat. 

Chris pets over my hair, slowly retracting himself before staring at me with hooded eyes and flushed cheeks.

“You’re insane,” he points, pulling his sweats and briefs back up. 

Shrugging, I wipe my lips, standing before planting myself back in his lap. 

Chris clutches me closely, tipping us over until I’m laying on my back. I laugh at his hands pushing upwards at his shirt that I’m wearing. The feeling of his face nuzzling onto my stomach makes me feel warm, the drowsiness of the events finally catching up to me with the physical exertion. 

“Comfy there?” I joke. 

He snuggles in further, nodding gently as his hand pets over my waist. The gentle press of his lips next to my belly button makes me melt into the couch, the new addition of physical intimacy not seeming awkward or daunting at all.

It feels safe. 

He’s still the same person, cuddling into me like it’s the most important thing to do. 

“Even though that was great and all,” he murmurs, his words tickling against the hair on my stomach, “-my favorite part about today is still making you smile.” 

[redflagshipwriter]

batmom cass: reveal

masterpost

Oh. Fuck. He was invisible. A flood of genuine fear washed through him. He was discovered again, he was away from any allies, he had to get away-

Danny went intangible out of sheer survival instinct and lurched downwards. Bruce made a punched-out sound and lunged to grab him. He actually got his hand around Danny’s wrist and clenched despite Danny being invisible to human eyes. It was no use. Danny slipped through his grip, the chair, and then the floor.

He caught himself there and paused, hovering in the flooring. He could see the weird joints underneath the kitchen, a dark crawl space with way more spiders than Alfred could possibly know about. One of them reared up and waved its front legs at him in what was either a threat or a greeting. Danny shuddered involuntarily and pulled back a little to give the arachnid personal space.

“Danny?” Cass’s voice was muffled but calm. “Sit in your chair, please.”

She made it sound so sensible.

He blinked rapidly. “Right. Right, okay.” He floated back up through the floor and avoided eye contact as he settled back into place and the visible spectrum. He stole a glance around the room. Cass and Damian looked unaffected. Bruce’s face said the same, but the pulse point was jumping rapidly in his throat. His hand was pressed firmly against his thigh as if to remind him that it was a physical thing that existed.

“This GIW is harmful to you?” Damian asked, sensible and unaffected. He pushed his empty yoghurt away a few inches on the tabletop. “I gather from the acronym that we are dealing with an organization rather than an individual.”

“....Yeah.” Danny gripped his knees under the table and clung to the hint of normalcy. If they were going to act like that hadn’t been weird, then maybe he was okay. “I think they’re government affiliated. They say they are. They, uh.” He cleared his throat. “They’re the Ghost Investigation Ward, but I call them the Guys in White.”

“And they are a problem because?” Damian asked crisply. Cass was watching with the full force of her formidable attention, but it wasn’t a heavy gaze. 

Danny forced himself to stop fidgeting. “Well, I might have died a little.” It came out as a question. “And they’re not sure it’s me- at least, they weren’t, but I guess that they are now.” Oof, that was hard to internalize. Of course they did. Now that they knew about Vlad, they had all the pieces to put it together. His parents had definitely put it together. The look on Mom’s face when she saw him hauling Vlad out of the lab…

He felt cold. Danny rubbed at his thighs as if that would help. 

There hadn’t been another choice. It ate at him a little bit that Danny had thrown his life away for someone he didn’t even like, but what else could he have done? Vlad was Vlad, yeah, but Danny couldn’t have left anyone there. 

Bruce had a look that Danny had never seen on him before. Intense. Focused. Dangerous. Danny instinctively pulled away from it, sitting all the way up in his chair. 

Bruce wiped it away, but the memory still sent Danny’s blood rushing. Ecto gathered in his mouth like saliva, his body readying to fight for his life. He swallowed it down with difficulty. 

“As you said,” Cass interjected. She scooted her chair a little closer to him and laid an arm along his shoulders. “Like Jason.” She rubbed at his upper arm. He leaned into her touch. 

“Like Jason,” Bruce echoed. His tone was hollow.

Danny ducked his head and missed the meaningful look that Cass shot her BatDad. 

“What are their capabilities?” Damian pushed. His dark eyes glittered when Danny looked back at him. “You clearly have invisibility and density shifting. Are they able to counter you?”

“Yeah, something like that.” Danny blinked rapidly to try to force himself to focus. This was… so weird. Someone had found out about him and he wasn’t fighting for his life. Even his friends had found out when he was actively under fire from a ghost. His nervous system didn’t know what to do with this. He cleared his throat. “They have a lot of tech, uh.” He flexed his hands. “From my parents.” He stared at the woodgrain on the table. It was probably real wood and not the heavy duty polymer that the Fenton table was made out of. “They’re not exactly competent, but there’s a lot of them, and they have had some success.”

His stomach lurched. He swallowed hard on bile. He didn’t think about what he’d found when he went after Vlad. He didn’t think about Vlad in his human form, strapped down and incisions pinned open, literal pins holding open his torso and skin layers on his arms. He didn’t think about the quietly despairing hums coming from rows of ghost cores on a shelf, neatly labeled with specimen numbers. 

“Let’s walk.” Cass hustled him up and muscled him down the hall without letting go of her comforting grip. Danny went along with it numbly. But she was kinda right. Moving shook him out of his head. The walls were changing around him, curtains and windows and framed portraits and some of Tim’s photography. They passed a room he had never seen before. Cass pushed the door open, let him look around, and then tugged him down the hall before he’d had time to do more than catalogue the novelty. 

She did that at the next door, too. Oh. An impromptu tour. The novelty of seeing new things started to drag him back to the real world, right now, which was not exactly a fight for his life.

At the third door, Danny managed, “Does anyone play that piano?”

Cass made a mysterious hum. It took her a while to unstick her tongue. “Damian can. Jason, if you ask with big eyes.” 

Danny nodded at this information. Damian did seem like the kind of person who would hone a few classic artistic skills. And Jason was manipulable, good information.

…Not that Danny would need much help there. He felt a little sheepish at how threatened he’d felt earlier when he remembered the sincerity and protectiveness he could sense from both Cass and Jason.  

“What should we do about GIW?” Cass broached the topic, as if she knew that he felt better. She probably did know. “Investigate cautiously? Destroy?” She held up two fingers to count off the ‘destroy the GIW’ options. “Horde of lawyers descend from Wayne Enterprises jet, or Justice League?”

Danny snorted. It turned into a laugh, hysterical and too long. He wiped tears away from his eyes. “Personally, I like the idea of blowing up their base,” he admitted. “But someone should rescue the test subjects first.”

“Oh?”

Cass was so weirdly easy to talk to. He leaned a little harder against her. She wasn’t a big woman, but there was something so solid about her anyway. It must be a Black Bat thing. “I left because I was getting someone out,” he admitted. “They were a lot more captives than I knew about.” He squeezed his free hand to ground himself. “I grabbed as many as I could and tossed them through the portal, but I don’t know if that was everyone or if just being home let them heal up.” 

Hell, maybe someone had come along and eaten all the helpless cores. Danny shied away from the horror of that thought. His intuition had identified the helpless ghost cores as viable ectoplasm, healing and delicious. They were scared at his approach because they sensed him, they knew they were helpless shells to crack open and lick out the sweet marrow–

Ah. Yup. He stopped in his tracks and heaved his snack onto the carpet.

[infomen]

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[foldingfittedsheets]

i see you take bed questions

i too am hypermobile (hEDS). i too am a side sleeper (harder to breathe on my back often, i have a lung issue). when i lie on my side, it feels like my spine is just kinda collapsing down into the mattress. is that proper spine posture? do i need a firmer mattress? i hate firm mattresses. i have a soft spring one that's pretty comfortable but i also worry about my future mobility (and my current back pain) if i continue to sleep in a bad position

memory foam is the worst. it's firm and sucks you in at the same time and it sucks for jumping on if you ever feel the need to jump. absolutely zero benefits. i have a memory foam pillow and the only thing it's good for is elevating the other, better, softer pillows.

Okay so see in “too soft” where the spine is slumped? That’s all comfort, no support. Sounds like what you’re describing. The one under right firmness still shows how the shoulders and hips need to sink in to keep the spine aligned. Soft beds are allowed but they need to actually push back and keep you aligned.

I will not hear you speak ill of memory foam my beloved. They come in a variety of densities from firm to soft and are amazing at pressure relief which hypermobile people tend to need. Trampolines are for jumping. Beds are for sleeping.

[chimeracauldron]

OMG!! Posting fully fleshed artworks like that on the daily is insane!!! How do you keep those juices flowing? And if it’s not an issue would you mind letting us see the speedpaint for Joan? Of the day: Memory ?

Haha, I wouldn't say they're all fully fleshed, the reason so many pieces are sketches is because that's all I have the time/energy for most days, but it's very flattering of you to say so ^^. For me, I just really like making art, it's basically all I want to do all the time, and I'm also pretty impatient, so I've learned to draw quite fast over the years. I'm also not exactly coming up with ideas on the spot, I've been using these daily drawing to explore ideas and OCs I've had bouncing around in in my head for a while.

I don't think it's a sustainable output for the record, the daily Joan?s has been a bit of a fun challenge I gave myself, and I'm lucky I have the time to do it, but I won't be posting daily Joan?'s anymore once I'm done with this little comic.

Unfortunately I don't make a habit of recording myself drawing, so I don't have a speedpaint to show you, but if it's interesting I could explain how I go about painting! I try to keep my process as simple as possible for these, and I have one brush I use for sketching, coloring, and painting. I wish I could tell you where I got the brush, I've long forgotten what it was originally, but it's just a textured pencil brush with pressure sensitivity on for the opacity and brush density and the minimum value set to 60/50.

I usually only do these pieces in 3 layers, the sketch, rough color underneath, and then the paint over, sometimes I'll rough out a background on another layer, or I'll add a few more layers if I think I might wanna go back on something I'm trying. As you can see, the rough color stage is quite rough, so i do change things around a bit when I'm painting and continue to mess with the colors if I feel like it. I have areas of detail I focus on, but otherwise try to keep it rough, you can see there a lot of large brush strokes throughout, especially when I'm blending large blocks of color. My brush doesn't have color mixing on, that's where the opacity and density sensitivity on my brush some in, I usually just lightly layer the colors over each other and color pick the middle until I get a gradient I like. This also works as a handy shortcut for figuring out how to light contrasting colors, like the green light on the cat lady's reddish-brown fur.

Anyways, thank you for reading, I hope that was all at least a little bit informative ^^