#does this count as art forgery

[mariocki]

Honor Blackman guest stars as art expert Syd Lewis in Saber of London: Deep in the Heart of Chelsea (1.3, NBC, 1957)

[maoistyuri]

Serious albeit potentially stupid question. Obviously a lot of AI sentiment comes from people who don't understand that all internet usage causes major emission problems, and the argument that it has no "soul" is just stupid to the point of not being worth consideration, is it not a bit of a problem that a lot of the art just comes from random people who never consented? It seems like it's their labor being stolen to make these companies money, but I'm not sure if that's starting to lean too into being pro IP.

Generative models do not "steal art" in any reasonable sense, rather they analyse aspects that are present in a very broad collection of pieces and use that to inform what art "should look like" based on that information. Though this can look fairly similar, it is not the same. There is less so-called "stealing" involved than even cutting out pictures from a magazine to collage them is, or using google images.

If you've ever used Facebook's feature where it suggests a face in one photo is a specific person based on previously collected data, the principle is similar.

I will defer to @deepseasmetro or another informed party if they want to write more on the labour aspect since I'm kinda busy, but in essence this does very little to subvert the de facto IP of any original artist, counting at best as derivative, and does nothing that wasn't already being done in terms of derivation.

Even more traditional tracing has always been at worst a dick move anyways, unless you're creating a forgery, which would bring us back to IP again anyways.

[allofmytoxicity]

Could I send a request for Neal Caffrey x reader, reader x ex!Spencer Reid. Where the reader used to date Spencer when in DC but they broke cause he was too focused on work and she moved to New York to manage a company or something and starts dating Neal. But the BAU works with White Collar on a crime and Spencer gets jealous seeing how happy the reader is with Neal

Pretty Slowly

Neal Caffrey x fem!fianceé!reader

past!Spencer Reid x fem!reader

Word Count: 3.3k

a/n: I feel like I need to put this before the summary on this one because when I saw this ask come in I was on a walk and listening to Benson Boone (as you do) and Pretty Slowly, his new song, came on and the end really gave me inspiration for this.

Summary: You and Spencer used to date years ago, but now you're in New York and dating Neal, so when the BAU come in on a case, your stuck in the past wondering how you got where you are.

5 years.

5 long damn years.

It had been just over 5 damn years since you had last seen Supervisory Special Agent, Doctor Spencer Reid.

And you thought that when you had left D.C. you would only see Spencer again if you were a suspect in a case, but here he was. Standing right in the way of where you wanted to go.

It wasn't as if he could help it, he was just sitting on the edge of a desk, but because of how tall he is, his legs pushed out far enough that if you tried to rush past them, you would trip and fall if you weren't careful.

Now, the whole reason you were here was to give Neal Caffrey, ex-con and your fiancé, a coffee because he had messaged you, pleading you to bring him something better than Bureau crap.

So, here you were, coffee in hand, deciding whether or not it was worth walking across the bullpen to get to Neal who was sitting in Peter's office, looking over a file, or sending him a message saying that you were here and wait in the lobby. And by your judgement, possibly spilling hot coffee all over you and bumping into the reason you don't live in D.C. anymore was not worth it.

That was though, before Neal had turned around and saw you and waved, getting out his phone, and not long after your phone pinged. Getting it out, you saw the message Neal had just quickly typed up.

Hey! Are you bringing that coffee up or do I need to come to you?

You lightly smile at your phone, before firing back a text.

Can you come to me? I'm having a tiny crisis

You look up at Peter's office and watch Neal's shoulders shake slightly with a laugh before he sets the file down and makes his way out of Peter's office, stopping by the shelves of files before making his way towards you.

"Hey." You say, passing Neal the takeaway cup in your hands. Neal takes it and kisses your cheek, finally taking a sip of coffee after he does so.

"Hi," Neal says, swallowing. "What's the crisis that means Peter might kill me for not working?"

You raise your eyebrows at Neal, rolling your eyes as you reply. "Firstly, it's a mini crisis-" and that's all you manage to get out before Neal cuts you off.

"You said it was tiny." He states, a smirk making its way onto his face.

"And you say you totally didn't commit fraud," You deadpan before continuing. "Second, I never said you had to ask about it. I just said to come and get your coffee here because of the tiny crisis."

Neal takes another sip of his coffee and as he swallows, he shakes his head before finally replying. "Very well played Miss Y/l/n."

"It's nearly Caffrey to you." You say, finally kissing Neal on the cheek. "And if you really want to know, ehm, I, uh, nearly bumped into someone today that I thought I left back in D.C."

Neal lets out a sigh, remembering the state you were in when he first met you. You had been freshly broken up with and were barely two weeks into a new job as a museum curator when he and Peter were called to a case of potential art forgery. You, only having been there for a couple of weeks, were the prime suspect, but all they found in the end was a broken woman who didn't really know where her life was headed.

After the case, Neal had manged to get in contact with you to ask you for dinner, just to see how you were doing. You, of course accepted as it kept you from sitting and rotting in bed after work, and after a while of Neal checking in, he finally asked you out and you two had been dating ever since and were now on the way to getting married.

All Neal did was hug you. He didn't know who it was and what effect they may have had on your life, but considering the state he met you in...

He didn't think it was exactly going to be great.

When he did finally release you, you gave him a sad smile before taking a shaky breath, trying not to cry.

"Thanks." You say, taking Neal's free hand and squeezing it for a second.

"It's fine," Neal replies, doing the same action back to you. "Do you want to come and sit in Peter's office with me? I know he might be slightly annoyed but I think if we told him the situation he would be fine."

You softly smile at the gesture and look down at your shoes for a moment, composing yourself. "I would, but I have work."

"You don't have work on a Thursday. Well, at least for now because of what happened." Neal shoots back, sipping his coffee with his eyebrows raised at you.

"I don't, but I do have a meeting this evening though that I need to prepare for." You say right back at him in the same tone.

"You can still sit in Peter's office to prepare." Neal says to you, but the serious look on his face drops then and you sense the relisation just by looking at him, his face full of guilt. "Whoever this is, is in the office right now, aren't they?"

You nod and Neal's eyes start flicking around the bullpen and before long you watch as they land on the ground of BAU agents surround just beside his desk.

"It's the profilers, isn't it?" Neal asks, turning to look at you with sad eyes.

"Yeah." You say in a small voice, not sure of what was going to happen next.

And you still didn't as Neal engulfed you in a bear hug, releasing you soon after before taking you over to the elevators and getting in, where waited until you two were on a different floor to hug you.

Stepping back slightly, Neal still had his arms wrapped around your waist as you dried your eyes slightly.

"Which one?" Neal asked, a worried look on his face.

"The really tall one. Brown curly hair." You say back to him and Neal slowly nods, remembering who it was from when Peter had introduced him to the whole team earlier this morning.

"I'm sorry." Neal says, drying the last of your tears as he does so.

"Neal, it's fine. You never knew and I... I didn't tell you." You reply, a sad smile gracing your face.

"Tell me now then, if you don't mind, because if this guy hurt you, I'm not going to put you in the way of that again." Neal says, holding you just that bit tighter than before, worry clear on his face.

You look down for a moment, smiling softly at the fact Neal wanted to know. That he wanted to keep you safe from things you'd escaped from years ago. That he probably wouldn't let you go until he knew how to help you.

"Spencer nearly died on a case about, uh, five and a half years ago now. After he got out of the hospital, we fought. I didn't want or like to see him like that, and after about two months of going back and forth on the issue, we broke up." You softly say, looking Neal in the eyes. "My whole support system was his team, and because I'd moved to D.C. after college and met Spencer through one of his coworkers, I decided to move here."

Neal nods in understanding ever so often as you talk, your sad eyes looking into his guilty ones.

He knew what you meant. Starting a new life in a different city could change everything for someone, even if it was only moving by a few small states. So, even if it meant not seeing you for most of the day on your day off, Neal wanted to keep you as safe as possible.

"Go home." Neal nearly whispered it was that quiet.

"What?" You ask, asserting your head to it's natural position.

"Go home. Prepare there and I'll check up on you during my lunch break." Neal said, now dragging you once again back to the elevators, before getting you both in one and taking you down to the ground floor.

As you both step out of the elevator you give Neal an 'are you sure?' look and he just nods his head, walking with you through the lobby and towards the entrance to the large FBI building.

Just before you leave, you do give Neal a kiss before walking off, concious in the back of your mind that he's probably waiting until you round the corner of the pavement before he goes back inside.

It was just coming up to 3 o'clock when you answered the door to your's and Neal's shared granny flat above June's.

And it was just coming up to 3 o'clock when you stared back at Spencer for the first time in 5 years.

You two stared at each other for a minute, Spencer faltering so badly in what would've been his usual ramblings about he and Derek, who was with him, being FBI and that they would like to ask you a few questions that Derek had to take over.

"Miss Y/l/n, would you be able to come down to the local FBI office to answer a few questions?" Derek finishes off, looking at you with his sunglasses still on as you stare back at him, hair in a messy bun with a hoodie and leggings replacing your work clothes from earlier this morning.

"Yeah, just let me grab my phone, keys and wallet and stick on my shoes and I'll be right with you." You say, sticking your trainers on haphazardly while you grab your wallet, keys and phone, shoving them in your pocket as you walk out the front door, locking it behind you.

As you walk into the White Collar unit, you can already feel Neal's eyes on you, but you don't dare to look at them as Derek and Spencer take you to an interrogation room where you're sat down and left again.

Not for long though.

The silence of the interrogation room was interrupted by Hotch walking in and holding a file, laying photos out in front of you and reading from the file himself.

"You work at a museum, correct?" Hotch asks as you blankly stare at him and the pictures.

"Yes. I do." You reply, keeping the blank stare.

"And there was recently a body of one of your coworkers found in your museum in a new exhibit that had been added that was covered in pig's blood." Hotch then asks, looking up this time, and gesturing to the pictures in front of you.

"Yes, there was. The body was found in the natural world gallery. I'm one of the curators of it." You reply, properly looking at the photos now, seeing someone you worked alongside, especially on that specific exhibit, dead in it, drenched in blood.

"Alright. Now, do you know of anyone acting suspiciously that could've had access to the new exhibit?" Hotch questions, trying to dig a bit deeper still.

Remembering something, you reply, "I think I do actually. One of the interns, Alexandra I think her name is? She's been asking questions recently about museum closing times, when night shift people change over and all that sort of stuff." You reply, a horrified look on your face this time.

"Thank you Miss Y/l/n, you have been very helpful and we'll look into this coworker of yours." Hotch says as she leaves the room and as he does, Spencer walks straight in while you're getting up from your chair.

"I know you left, but you didn't even send me a message saying you were getting married? What the hell Y/n?" Spencer asks, clearly jealous just by his demeanour and snippiness with you.

"Spencer, I don't want to talk just now. I want to go home and go to bed. Let's just leave us where we were when I left." You ask Spencer as he stands there stunned while you walk out of the room and it's not 5 seconds before Neal wraps you in his arms when you walk out of the interrogation room.

"Well done." Neal whispers as he places a kiss to your forehead, holding you as if you were about to break.

You hold on to Neal for dear life as you can feel a set of eyes burning into the back of your skull.

"Can we just go home?" You ask Neal after a while, lifting your head up as you do so to look at him, tears in your eyes.

"Peter said I could as soon as we watched the profilers bring you in." Neal said, and you both walked back home to June's where you spent the rest of the night in bed, not really caring about dinner, just cuddling and ignoring responsibilities for a while.

The next morning, you woke up to rainy weather and to find that Neal wasn't beside, but a note was trying and failing to replace his body heat.

Y/n/n,

I've gone to work and I've also called you in sick today. Will be back soon, probably with lunch, but Peter called and said I was working your profilers today.

Love you,

Neal x

You smiled at it, and tracing Neal's loopy handwriting as you read it.

Getting up, you went and took a shower before getting dressed and making yourself breakfast and as you sat and ate the omelet you had made yourself, you got a call from Peter and the only words you didn't want to hear, spilled from his mouth over the phone.

Neal had been shot.

Neal, for as long as anyone had known him, did not like guns, and would actively try to diffuse a situation if it rose to guns.

So, as Peter explained the situation, your mind jumped to the worst, was he dead? Did he at least make it to surgery? What if he went brain dead? All these thoughts rushing through your head, you only just caught Peter saying that Neal was shot in the abdomen, but would be fine by the looks of things.

With the fact that Neal was alive accompanying you, you ran out the house, adrenaline probably the reason you could still sprint after a few blocks in the pouring rain, only needing a short taxi ride to the hospital after most of the adrenaline wore off, not wanting to get completely soaked through. But as you walked into the waiting room and saw Peter, you hugged him, seeing the remnants of dried blood on his shirt that he'd clearly tried to hide from you.

You started to sob in his arms, soaking Peter's shirt with your wet clothes and your tears, not ready to nearly lose another boyfriend to his job.

"It's okay," Peter soothed, smoothing out your hair. "He's out of surgery now and sleeping. The doctors aren't letting us see him because he needs rest."

You lean back and dry your eyes at that, nodding as you do so.

"Say that Neal will be fine Y/n." Peter says, giving you a very dad-like look.

"Neal will be fine." You says back to Peter, sniffling while you do and with that Peter guides you to a seat as you wait for Neal to wake up.

It had felt like an age when the doctor had finally come through and told you that Neal had woken up as your clothes were nearly dry, and as you burst into Neal rooms, you felt happy tears cloud your eyes.

"Hi." You said from the doorway, tears in your eyes at the sight. The sight of your fiancé awake from surgery with a massive bandage around his middle.

"Hey." Neal replies, giving you his signature smirk. "How you doing?"

"I'm doing better now that you're awake. I heard you jumped in front of Spencer and took the bullet for him." You say as you walk into Neal's hospital room even further.

"I did. I'm sorry I scared you. I promise from now on, to not jump in front of people if they're being shot at." Neal says, taking your hand once you were in arms reach and as Peter chapped the door you both looked at him, and you smiled. You had Neal back.

"I'll let you two chat." You say, squeezing Neal's hand, and Peter gives you a thankful look as you walk out and go straight for the entrance, just to give yourself a breather, even if it was in the rain.

Unbeknownst to you for at least a little bit of time, some of the BAU were there as well, including Spencer, who had a scratched up arm and sprained wrist, but was overall fine because Neal took the bullet for him. He was following you outside and got the fright of his life when you turned around and nearly tackled him to the sodden ground.

Releasing him, you sighed, not wanting to waste to much of your life talking to this man.

"Spencer, why are you following me?" You ask, looking down at your feet and then back up at Spencer.

"Because, I want to know why the ex-convict is not getting broken up with over being shot, but I was. You moved out of D.C. because of me Y/n! You could at least tell me why he's being treated differently!" Spencer rages at you, and you are taken aback by how angry he got.

You shake your head, tears coming to your eyes once again and you finally let them spill, your voice shaky. "Because Spencer, Neal said he wouldn't go out of his way to get himself killed again when I told him I was worried. You brushed me off. You brushed me off and told me that it didn't matter because we all die anyway."

"Well, that makes all the difference doesn't it? What he promised, but I didn't. Y/n, that's the most ridiculous shit I've heard all day." Spencer snaps back and as you cry, you try swiping you under eyes of tears, but that doesn't stop the flow of tears as it comes along.

"I have no idea who this Spencer is, but this is not the fucker I know. You're jealous, Spence. And, I know that we used to be two lovers, but that was all we were and I have no idea who the hell we are now. Because we certainly aren't those two people we knew years ago." You say, holding your ground, making your voice sound stronger than it was. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going back to my fiancé and leaving you here for your team deal with. Have a nice life Spencer."

And with that, you pushed your damp hair out of your face, swiped your eyes and walked back in, and leant against a wall close to Neal's room, holding your hands now over your eyes to try and stop the tears.

After a while if felt as if they had stopped and walked back into the room, to see Peter and Neal talking away animatedly. You felt at peace as you plonked yourself down on the bed beside Neal's legs and complete as you held his hand, reminding yourself about how you two first met and how everything happened pretty slowly to begin with.

So, you sat there, not interrupting Peter and Neal's conversation, but content knowing that the one person that had wormed their way into every aspect of your life once, was finally out and put in his place.

For good.

a/n: it's currently after 1am my time currently, so I'm going to bed, so goodnight! enjoy this! I certainly enjoyed writing it.

requests are open!

[nerdythebard]

#61: Loki Laufeyson [Marvel Comics]

[Art Credit: Gabriel Hernandez Walta | Doctor Strange (2015)] ---

I'll start by saying this, my dear Deities... I am not a fan. As a resident mythology nerd, I have a few baseball bats with Marvel decision-makers' names on them. But, I am a bard of the people and therefore shall hear my audience's requests. And thus, we're building Loki Laufeyson as depicted by Marvel Comics. Plenty of changes to the real Loki (which will be featured!), so let's see what we can do.

Next Time: You want more gods, I give you more gods. No more monkey business! Unless the monkey's business is to become immortal.

So, what does this so-called Loki brings to the table:

Tall Tales & Tricks: Loki in most of his iterations is known for his speechcraft and manipulation techniques. This one, however, is also quite fond of spells and various magical practices, specialising however in illusions and shapeshifting (although seemingly limited to mostly humanoid forms).

Tough as... Ice: This Loki is a full frost giant (...shh! Keep the Jotunn lecture for those who ask, Nerdy) with all the physiological advantages. We're talking durability, strength, the entire package.

Shinies & Stabbies: This Loki likes his pointy objects. Daggers and the sword Lævateinn seem to be his particular favourites. Plus, we all remember the glaive/scepter he gets in the movies.

---

To properly represent Loki's Jotunn lineage, we will reach for the "distant cousins of giants" in the world of D&D - Firbolgs, as depicted in Mordenkainen's Monsters of the Multiverse. We get +2 Charisma and +1 Constitution, some Firbolg Magic which lets us cast Detect Magic and Disguise Self (once without expending spell slots, unless we have slots to spell - spoilers: we will), ability to turn invisible with Hidden Step, ability to communicate (one way) with nature using the Speech of Beast and Leaf, as well as Powerful Build which makes us count as one category larger for tasks such as carrying, pulling, or lifting.

Loki's many things, but in most instances he is a Charlatan, so that's what we're going with. We gain proficiency in Deception and Sleight of Hand, as well as with disguise and forgery kits (which will be useful to alter our clothes, as it cannot be done via magic). We are also able to craft False Identity for ourselves, completed with an entire past full of tangible evidence. What's better for a foundling child, adopted by a local warlord, who needs to use disguise magic to hid his true form?

ABILITY SCORES

This one's obvious - we are putting our highest score into Charisma, we will be using it most of the time both in and out of combat. We also need to avoid, dodge, and slip into the shadows so Dexterity will be next. Finally, let's grab Constitution, just in case some musclehead with a hammer catches us once in a blue moon.

Intelligence will actually be next, we're good at gathering information and utilising it. Strength comes from our giant lineage, although we rarely get physical. Finally, we're dumping Wisdom - if we had it, we'd learn to not constantly betray our brother or the heroes that gave us a chance (again).

CLASS

Level 1 - Rogue: We will start with our non-magical skills. Rogues get a d8 as their Hit Die, [8 + Constitution modifier] initial Hit Points, proficiencies with light armour, simple weapons, hand crossbows, longswords, rapiers, shortswords, and thieves' tools. Let's give your standard leather armour, and two daggers plus a shortsword (which what would a Norse primary weapon be, provided you're wealthy enough).

Our saving throws are Dexterity and Intelligence, and we can choose four skills from the class list (Acrobatics, Perception, Performance, and Stealth). Rogues start with Expertise to their skills, doubling the proficiency bonus of two chosen skills; for this Loki, who uses illusions and body switching so often, let's put Expertise in Persuasion and Stealth. We also know Thieves' Cant (can't what? - no, that joke will never not be funny), a system of phrases and symbols used by Rogues to communicate. Slip some Asgardian lingo without worry of revealing plans.

We can also apply Sneak Attack to any attack (with a Finesse or Ranged weapon) that we have an advantage on. The amount of damage increase as we level up; for now it's an extra 1d6.

Level 2 - Rogue: Our quick thinking grants us Cunning Action. We can now take the Dash, Disengage, and Hide Actions as Bonus Actions, allowing for better positioning.

Level 3 - Rogue: Our Sneak Attack bonus now becomes 2d6. We also get to pick our subclass, our Roguish Archetype. I'm guessing some of you would go with Arcane Trickster here, but remember we're focusing on quick and stabby Loki in this part; put on your feather caps, we're going Swashbuckler! With Fancy Footwork, we do not provoke opportunity attacks if we make an attack against the enemy (notice, it doesn't say we need to hit the enemy, so this is a perfect testing-the-waters technique). Thanks to our Rakish Audacity, we can add our Charisma modifier to our Initiative, making us a good scout and once again helping with our positioning.

Additionally at this point, when we're in melee range of an enemy and there's nobody else within 5 feet, we do not need advantage for our Sneak Attack.

Level 4 - Sorcerer: As one wise Loki said "blades are worthless in the face of a Loki Sorcery", so we're going to focus on that now. Multiclassing into Sorcerer does not give us any extra bonuses, but it enables Spellcasting. Charisma is our casting ability and we know catrips and regular spells. Sorcerers get a fixed number of spells. We start with four cantrips (Fire Bolt, Friends, Minor Illusion, and Prestidigitation) and two 1st-level spells (Comprehend Languages and Sleep).

Sorcerers also pick their subclass, their Sorcerous Origin, at this level. We shall circle back to our giant legacy and pick the Giant Soul option from the Unearthed Arcana 51. With the legacy of the Frost Giants embedded in our essence, we gain Jotun Resilience - every level up we get an additional 1 Hit Point. We also carry the Mark of Ordning, which grants us some additional spells; at this level it's Armour of Agathys and Ray of Frost.

Level 5 - Sorcerer: We discover our inner Font of Magic and are now able to convert Sorcery Points into Spell Slots and vice versa. We can also grab another 1st-level spell; let's grab Charm Person to emulate the usage of the Mind Stone.

Level 6 - Sorcerer: We unlock Metamagic, which lets us use Sorcery Points to alter the properties of our spells. We get to choose two options: Quickened Spell uses 2 Sorcery Points to change a spell from Action to Bonus Actions. Subtle Spell uses 1 Sorcery Point to cast a spell without verbal or somatic components - perfect to sneakily place an body double illusion.

We also unlock 2nd-level spells here, so in regards to my previous sentence, let's take Mirror Image. We also get Hold Person from our subclass.

Level 7 - Sorcerer: Time for our first Ability Score Improvement. Let's raise our Charisma and Constitution by one, and then we can move to our spell selection. We get a new cantrip (Green-Flame Blade) and another 2nd-level spell: Misty Step.

Level 8 - Sorcerer: At this level, we normally do not get anything; the optional feature from Tasha's Cauldron of Everything called Magical Guidance lets us spend Sorcer Points to re-roll failed ability checks, but ask your DM about that one.

We do, however, unlock 3rd-level spells, so let's take Major Image to improve the quality of our projections, while we stick to the shadows.

Level 9 - Sorcerer: We get another subclass feature. With Soul of Lost Ostoria, we gain a benefit based on the Giant heritage we've chosen previously. For Frost Giants, after casting one of our Mark of Ordning spells, we get temporary Hit Points equal to our Consitution modifier. We also get another 3rd-level spell; let's grab Antagonise.

Level 10 - Sorcerer: Halfway through the build and unfortunately, we get no class boons here. We do, however, unlock 4th-level spells so let's take Charm Monster to hopefully avoid potential non-human fights... or to cause them.

Level 11 - Sorcerer: Time for another ASI. Let's put points into Constitution and Wisdom, and then grab another 4th-level spell: Greater Invisibility.

Level 12 - Sorcerer: Once again, we get nothing class-wise. We do unlock 5th-level spells now, so let's take Creation to have an opportunity to always have a tool or a wepon on our hands.

Level 13 - Sorcerer: We get to pick another Metamagic option here. With Extended Spell, we can extend the duration of our spells (if available) by spending Sorcery Points to a maximum of 24 hours. Useful to keep some illusions or the Creation spell we've picked up last level.

We also pick up our last cantrip of the build (Mending) and another 5th-level spell; this time, let's get Telekinesis to reorganise the environment around us (and pick some loose trinkets laying in the open).

Level 14 - Sorcerer: Once again, no new class boons but we do unlock 6th-level spells. With Mass Suggestion, we can now convince an entire crowd of mortals to bow down before us (or perhaps vote us President).

Level 15 - Sorcerer: For our next ASI, we will increase our Dexterity by two points to get better AC and Initiative options.

Level 16 - Sorcerer: Unlocking 7th-level spells, we can now use Teleport to call up a lift from Heimdall. Just make sure to collect some knick-knacks from the place you want to teleport to for a better chance of actually going there. Spatial travel's tough.

Level 17 - Sorcerer: For our final subclass option of the build, we are able to unleash the Rage of Fallen Ostoria. When casting a spell, we can spend one additional Sorcerer Point to transform into our Giant Form. For 1 minute, we become one category size larger and gain the following benefits:

Our current Hit Points and Hit Points Maximum increase by 1 per Sorcerer Level.

Our reach increases by 5 feet.

Our speed increases by 5 feet.

We have advantage on Strength checks and Strength saving throws.

We get a bonus damage to our weapon attacks equal to our Constitution modifier.

Level 18 - Sorcerer: Once again, no class boons, but we do unlock 8th-level spells. To once again hopefully avoid combat, let's use the power of the Norse Runes and grab Power Word: Stun.

Level 19 - Sorcerer: For our final ASI of the build, let's cap our Charisma to 20. Who knows, maybe the BBEG would be so willing to step down after having a nice little chat.

Level 20 - Sorcerer: For our capstone as Sorcerer 16, we get to enhance our Metamagic yet again. For the late game, let's get Twinned Spell to add one additional target to some of spells (like Telekinesis, Charm Monster, Major Image, etc.).

---

And this is what I can do for the Marvel Comics version of Loki. Let's see what story I came up with:

First of all, we have a fantastic Initiative score. With a +7, we are almost certain to start every combat first which gives us fantastic opportunity to hide, reposition, or distract the enemy before they even make their move. Because this is what we are: we're a skirmisher, a supporter. We have enough to protect ourselves with but mostly we use Crowd Control and sticking to the back lines. We are first and formost the Party's out-of-combat Face for all social interactions.

Our AC is 14 and we have the average of 153 Hit Points.

Despite a solid identity as the Face, our Wisdom score is absolutely abysmal, which is not really great considering that is one of the most used and abused by the enemies. We are very vulnerable to any charmed or feared effects, so it's best to avoid being seen or invest into some magic item protection.

---

So that is it. You guys want more gods, I listen and serve. It's good to be back in the character building saddle. I'll see you soon with another breakdown build, my friends <3

-Nerdy out!

[notoneglance]

So today I found out through this amazing art post by @sonomomoyi​ that the episode 15 notes included this bit:

Translation:

Momoi Tarou/Ahh Momoi Tarou/Momoi Tarou..... --Sonoi, A Haiku of the Heart (a forgery)

Which is insane and I am losing my mind!!

See, because that poem is a reference to an actual poem by famous haiku poet: Matsuo Basho, you may have heard of him.

So this is like the most well known Japanese poet of all times, right? And even when he was alive, he was super revered and respected for his poetry. He traveled around Japan and wrote poems based off the places he went and the sights that he saw.

But when he went to Matsushima, he was so stunned by its beauty that all he could write was, “Matsushima/Ahh Matsushima/Matsushima’

(Actually, double checking this with google, apparently this story isn’t actually true, but it is the story that is in the Japanese cultural consciousness which is all that really matters when it comes to references)

WHICH IS PRETTY GAY OF SONOI TO REFERENCE THE ‘STRUCK SPEECHLESS BY BEAUTY POEM’ IN REGARDS TO MOMOI AND THEN TITLE IT ‘A HAIKU OF THE HEART’

Especially considering that ‘Momoi Tarou’ does not really fit the 5 mora count lol

[inkedroplets]

4; 11; 29; 58

4) what is the plot bunny you’ve been carrying for the longest? optional bonus question: do you ever wonder why you haven’t written it yet and experience deep existential dread?

There's a Lucifer/SuperCorp crossover fic that I have half-done, I think 3 or 4 chapters and I had/have an anon that was really excited for it but I haven't published any of it yet. I fear it's not good enough and the more time that passes the less confident I am in the story. I think I posted a snippet ages ago but good luck finding it

11) what’s something neat you’ve learned while doing research for something you were writing? also, how much do you worry about doing research in general?

I wrote a scene at a gala where Lena and Wonder Woman are discussing art and I wrote a throwaway line about art forgery. I had t do a little research about actual forgery methods and I ended up learning a lot. I actually bought a book on it later. And I worry probably more than I should.

29) give us a spoiler for one of your stories.

Does a snippet of an unpublished story count?

I will do everything in my power to stop you. Just like I would any other villain. 

Kara had wanted to take the words back the moment they had left her mouth. Whatever combination of words (if they even existed) that might have helped to bridge the distance that had sprung up between Lena and her, those certainly hadn’t been the right ones. Nor had it been the kind of firm warning that might have coaxed Lena off the dangerous ledge she had been walking since stealing Myriad from the fortress. They had been an ultimatum and a cruel one at that.

58) what is the last thing that a fic made you google when you were writing it?

Music! I like to include a song for most every chapter of what I'm writing and I'm always tinkering with playlists while I write.

[worldunbent]

i was going to give my ranking of hxh arcs but tbh i enjoy/don't enjoy them for such different reasons that it feels impossible to try to directly compare them. i also could not possibly justify ranking the chairman election arc as highly as i would. general quick thoughts on each instead

hunter exam - it took me a little while to get into it, but starting from around netero's introduction it really picks up and the ending is stellar... on mc+ keith talks about how the show makes you nostalgic for the hunter exam as it goes on and it is kind of great how an arc that feels full of danger and uncertainty at the time becomes almost cute and whimsical in retrospect.

zoldyck manor? - not sure if this counts as an arc but i like it. there's some excellent work in tone with how simultaneously dark and goofy it is.

kevin's heaven's arena - sure does exist. speaking of arcs that feel different in hindsight, greed island kind of makes this arc look worse because that also had a shitton of exposition but it was with a wacky character in a wacky setting while in kevin's arena you're getting powerpoints from a kind of boring character in a kind of boring setting. there's nothing about this arc i really hate, but not much i enjoy either.

yorknew city/phantom troupe - YEAH BABEY. if we go by the dichotomy that everyone is either a yorknew fan or an ants fan, i am definitely a yorknew fan. i love the setting, i love the parade of freaks, i love the inexplicable lengthy digressions about art forgery. all of the character writing is so sharp and funny and tragic. i could talk for ages about how many things i like about this arc on a beat-by-beat level. on a broader level, the pacing is also excellent (even with the lengthy art forgery digressions) and i love how it's a break from the very typical battle shonen-y structure of the surrounding arcs.

greed island - i wasn't expecting to like greed island because i don't like training arcs and have very little interest in stories that deal with video game mechanics but for some reason i really enjoyed it - it's partly because the arc just has great character work (this is where killua emerged as my favorite and stayed that way for the rest of the series even though he was squarely my least favorite of the main four for quite a while in the beginning) and partly because togashi is having so much fun with his own worldbuilding and bizarre ideas that it's hard not to get drawn in. the video game aspect is less interested in the crunchy mechanics... well, it is interested in the crunchy mechanics, but it takes a very broad view of the game's design as well, which is a lot more fun to me. obviously the weak point of this arc is that the villain just sucks ass. i won't deny that.

chimera ants - wellll sure. i like a lot of this arc, especially the continued character and relationship development for gon and killua and a bunch of the new characters on the hunter side, but the stuff i enjoyed most wasn't really specific to the ants. i didn't hate them but i struggled to find them as interesting as togashi clearly did and that's... an issue when the arc is as long and ant-focused as it is.

13th chairman election - i completely understand the flaws that other people see in this arc but i simply enjoy the events that take place and sometimes that's enough. it's a stupid political farce that for some reason has been jammed into the same space as a fucked-up family drama. and the stupid political farce is also a fucked-up family drama itself. it's just so weird and specific that i can't help but like it.

dark continent - i barely remember anything that happened this arc. i do think it's really funny that togashi takes a second pass at the same bit nobody liked in yyh where he starts explicitly powerscaling and says that actually all those past insanely powerful villains are weaksauce b-tier fools and all the real strong guys are over there -> go there now -> -> -> it's not better this time but it is funnier because he's doubling down.

succession crisis - the fact that i don't like something called the succession crisis arc is hilariously out of character but sorry the pacing of this is just so weird and i find it hard to care about most of what's happening. there are definitely parts i like but they're swimming in a sea of togashi just throwing out absolute overload of new characters and ideas too fast to actually develop most of them.

[sarahrserfati]

Jerrold Levinson critiques of Autography/Allography

"...speak of a work of art as autographic if and only if the distinction between original and forgery of it is significant; or better, if and only if even the most exact duplication of it does not thereby count as genuine."(4) First, I think that by 'it' in this definition one should understand 'the work or its (genuine) instances'. Goodman takes the definition to be applicable to multiple as well as singular artforms, yet it is not all that clear what it would be to duplicate a woodcut or a symphony, rather than an impression of one or a performance of the other.(5) But second, and more importantly, it appears that the definition as it now reads fails to include printmaking and cast sculpture as autographic arts. Given a genuine impression of some woodcut, I can produce a duplicate of it which will be genuine; all I need to is locate the original block and take another impression from it. Similarly, there can be exact duplicates of instances of a cast sculpture which count as genuine; namely, additional ones cast from the original mold. Goodman is fully aware of this point. Speaking of etching he says: "But even the most exact copy produced otherwise than by printing from that plate counts not as an original but as an imitation or forgery".(6) The trouble is that there is nothing in the explicit definition that answers to the qualification "produced otherwise than by printing from that plate", which qualification is needed to keep printmaking an autographic artform. A similar qualification ("produced otherwise than by casting from that mold") is needed to keep cast sculpture properly autographic." I will now propose modifications of (It) which serve clearly to mark off as autographic all and only the 'fine arts'. What we are after is the notion of an art for which at most only a certain kind of exact duplication counts as genuine."

Levinson, Jerrold. “Autographic and Allographic Art Revisited.” Philosophical Studies: An International Journal for Philosophy in the Analytic Tradition 38, no. 4 (1980): 367–83.

http://www.jstor.org/stable/4319427

NOTES:

I had trouble understanding the final parts of the article as Levinson began with multiple new approaches to Goodman's Autographic/Allographic theory and I may need to reread a few times and revisit this article.

[isavedyouthewaltz]

Fictions Inside Fiction

I just finished reading The Beginners by Anne Serre, one of my favorite contemporary authors. Her voice (in English translation from the French original) is this otherworldly mix of contemplative and mundane. She writes so beautifully of the obviousness of so much of life while capturing the consternation and enigma these simplicities can so often be—always seem to ask both “Is that all there is?” and “Why is it so complicated?” about life.

In The Beginners the main character, Anna Lore, meets a man who she falls in love with. Throughout the work it is references that he reminds her of somebody from a book—but she cannot remember which book. It is always on the tip of her tongue and when she finally remembers she realizes that, no, it was not actually that book he reminded her of.

He becomes, in a way, a walking fiction to her.

But he is not the only one. In there passion they share books with each other, as lovers are wont to do:

“ Week after week, favorite books are dispatched from her bookshelves in Sorge, where she continues to live, to Bordeaux. The moment his work is done and he has left the center where he has spent the day investigating crimes, Thomas goes home to read, astonished to discover the good it does him. Piotr Sengel and Alexandre Ider do him a world of good. Tommaso Ordoli falls wide of the mark. (It's strange, she would have thought Ordoli perfect for the job. Apparently not.) With Effie Karane or Marie des Fossés, the bleeding stops at the very first sentence.“

All of these names are forgeries. There is no Tommaso Ordoli or Marie des Fossés.

The book, set in France in 2002, does not need this lie and it is so beautiful.

This is not like Jonathan Strange & Mr Norrell, Fitzpatrick’s War, or House of Leaves which are built around fictional citations. This book’s direct fictions really only extend so far as a fake village and a fake employer (an art magazine). The rest of the story is built to be a story about very normal people whose lives are like real toads inside imaginary gardens with real toads in them. But here, where authors so often love the chance to share some of their favorites (looking at you, F. Scott Fitzgerald) Serre breaks from that and invents, totally unnecessarily, a host of writers. It becomes almost a challenger to the reader of ‘literary’ fiction: So, you want realism? How far are you willing to go before it breaks your genre?

At the same time it accomplishes the same thing that a nineteenth century author who lists a date as “18—” or a name as the “Count of —”. It does not matter how many fictions there are inside another fiction. If we can accept these real toads, why not expand the imaginary garden by another square foot or two, by another plot of lilacs.

[chaosorchestrator]

Ok, so I see a lot of backlash against AI art (which probably doesn't technically count as art but there's not a better term yet), and initially I kind of thought people just didn't understand the technology.

Because I'm not on twitter and I'm only loosely connected to the professional artist community, I only recently learned that some people (apparently there's a big overlap with the crypto assholes here go figure) are basically using it to steal art commissions and taking training data from artists who have expressly requested not to have their art used in that way. These practices are absolutely unethical and they should be stopped from doing it.

That said, it does seem like there's a misunderstanding about the tech, and it's causing the backlash to spill over onto the technology itself, which I feel is unwarranted.

Before I explain why, let me first clarify what type of AI i'm talking about. people tend to use the term for any computer-generated art and while that's fine (that's just how language is), I'm talking about a specific type of program here.

What I'm not talking about is a program that stitches existing images together (like whatever godforsaken monstrosity belches up bored apes).

What I'm talking about is images made with machine learning.

to drastically oversimplify, when you feed a training input to an ai, the program examines clusters of pixels, creates a new value for each cluster and passes it on to the next layer. repeat the process a few dozen times and then look at the output. depending on how the output relates to the desired outcome, you send feedback back down to the beginning of the chain, tweaking numbers along the way. No part of the image is stored by the program, and the output is discarded. this is repeated hundreds of times and the transformations on each layer gradually learn what images of the type contained within the set tend to look like, and how shapes tend to be connected in them and so on.

Note that, while I know the above is accurate with respect to image analysis ai, I'm not as well informed about image generation. Still, the general principles are the same on the training side of things, and some cursory research suggests that the same techniques are used for this part.

So based on that, while we colloquially describe the process as "feeding" the AI, it's more accurate to say that the AI is "adjusted based on how it responds to" the data.

Good AIs usually also have some random noise introduced into the process, which keeps it from hewing too closely to the training set.

I've seen a comparison where there was a work based on various famous paintings compared with what was supposedly AI output which was clearly just bits of the original paintings awkwardly stitched together. I can confidently say that if this really was ai output it's either a shitty one or was given like 500 copies of each of the handful of paintings and nothing else.

While it is possible to do art theft with ai if you force it to as described above, in the same way a human might painstakingly create a forgery, used normally, what it does genuinely is more similar to learning than anything else. for that reason, while I recognize that the technology is being abused, and art is being used without permission when it really shouldn't be, it isn't technically art theft.

Given all of this, I would personally propose three broad rules be implemented and enforced ASAP.

Always disclose when an image is AI generated and not human-made

Implement (and respect) an opt-out option on websites where art is posted (in account settings, with the ability to make exceptions for individual images (I don't really understand why you'd want to opt out, but it should be your choice)

Keep a record of every work used for training and credit them somewhere anyone who wants to look can find it

These aren't meant to be comprehensive or anything, and I'm almost certainly missing some things

Assorted closing thoughts:

I use these AIs every now and then and still commission artists exactly as much as I did before (like once a month or so).

This is probably because the things I want the AI to make from me are things that i don't care enough about to commission ("soda cans in a cave") or something really abstract that I want to see a machine's take on ("colorless green ideas sleep furiously")

Capitalism is really the main problem here, but what else is new

Neural networks aren't just "based on" the functioning of the human brain; in an abstract sense it is literally the same process, just scaled down and simplified.

Watermarks will work decently well in keeping an ai from accurately mimicking your style, but will also probably make the AIs output cooler looking

What do you think? I'm interested in hearing as many different takes on this as I can find.

[of-fluxions]

♫ - fatima by kanako ito

_

inception x steins;gate | dreamshare + time travel [@inception30daychallenge; day 11 + 18]

_

crack taken a bit too seriously, oops. _

background

there are multiple parallel timelines. there are also ‘attractor fields’ which are like bundles of timelines where certain major events are always destined to happen, although across the various timelines there’s some variation in how this happens.

time travel related activity can send you to another timeline, although everyone’s memories will be different in another timeline.

cobb has the unique ability to preserve his memories of other timelines.

the core time travel mechanism here is the dream leap; i.e. overwrite a dream in the past with memories from the future, effectively allowing someone to travel into the past since when their past self wakes up they’ll have knowledge of the future.

plot (?)

disclaimer: this was not well thought through

sometime after the fischer job, saito shows cobb & the team some dream leap theory he’s had for a long time and they eventually complete a working prototype.

cobb leaps back to try and prevent mal’s death, but he’s in an attractor field where she will always die. even if he doesn’t incept her and they return from limbo, she eventually becomes obsessed with her totem, ends up thinking she’s trapped in her own dream and commits suicide. he watches her die over and over and keeps trying to save her. (you are not responsible for the idea that destroyed her xd)

in each timeline/iteration he’ll always meet saito/the rest of the team along the way, who help him complete the prototype (since they’re in the past where this doesn’t exist yet, but saito has the theory). saito gives cobb key triggers for contacting him so even if they’re in a different timeline where saito doesn’t remember cobb, he’ll still help him.

eventually (based on something saito said?) cobb realizes that he needs to return to the root of the idea - to become mal’s totem instead of the spinning top. that way she’ll never lose her grip on reality as long as she has him. this works, and cobb prevents mal’s death.

but now they’re in another timeline where saito is dead. since mal never dies in this timeline, the events leading to cobb meeting saito and finishing the time travel theory never existed.

cobb is devastated, but also no longer has the means to try again since saito isn’t here. after all his time spent seeing mal die he decides to just give up and live peacefully with mal, but is constantly haunted by regret.

all is well now right? lol no. turns out saito’s death results in fischer-morrow monopolizing energy. they also took saito’s theory with them and eventually build a real time machine, and become the only ones with the means to run them, leading to total global domination.

someone from the future (phillipa probably) comes back to warn them of the dystopian future and persuade cobb to save saito. but cobb’s haunted by seeing mal die all those times and doesn’t want to mess with the timeline anymore. he just can’t deal with seeing someone he cares about die over and over again whether it’s mal or saito. :(

ariadne, resident genius, comes up with the idea that he just needs to deceive his past self into thinking mal died, which will lead him onto the chain of causality to complete the dream leap theory

so they travel back to prevent saito’s death and perform inception on his past self to believe mal died (but she’s actually fine). (i guess at this point the timeline is fixed so the people who went back don’t exist anymore. but the idea remains with past!cobb).

return to the end of the actual inception film, cobb gets home and get the memories of a cobb from a distant future through dream leap. he realizes what happened, mal is right there waiting for him and not actually dead...cue tearful reunion etc

but his knowledge of the future reminds him they still need to prevent a dystopia, so the whole team all ends up working with saito to make sure the dream leap theory never falls into the wrong hands.

ot3 happily ever after?

[leafy-m]

Crying forever; I finished listening to Maya Motayne's sequel book Oculta and it was wonderful in lots of ways but it just came out in April which means the third book is year(s) away and I'm looking for fandom posts AND THERE ARE NONE.

Tumblr tagged posts are only a handful. There's NO wiki, there's mostly only book photos on IG, THERE'S NOT EVEN A TAG ON AO3 😭! And Twitter's difficult because there's no way to filter out the unrelated Nocturna/Oculta/Finn/Alfie posts.

Anyway I just need you to know how wonderful Cinnamon Roll Prince Alfie and Snarky Thief Finn are, and if you know how fucking obsessed I am with Nahri & Ali, please know that Finn and Alfie are easily their YA rivals.

[benne-basta-bauce]

I've said it once and I'll say it again, art theft/forgery is the sexiest crime while bank robbery is the most badass crime. I will not elaborate.

[lok-thuum]

if chrollo played animal crossing, some headcanons:

— probably has one of the cool exclusive switch models because shalnark saw it at gamestop and the troupe pitched in to buy (steal) it for him for his birthday

— chrollo plays animal crossing simply because other games confuse him too much. for someone who's so quick-witted and intuitive, he sure does struggle with figuring out the controls. he tried minecraft once. once.

— something he doesn't understand at first is that things reset daily and that you have to sell things to earn money; "what do you mean i can't steal this from nook's cranny? absurd." he will continue to smack rocks with his shovel until it breaks, convinced he can get more stones out of it... somehow.

— that being said, he definitely cheats. you would catch him with his nose buried in the game in the middle of winter, but it's clearly autumn in the game. you would look at him with an eyebrow raised, and he'd say the snow made his island look ugly and he refused to deal with it any longer. understandable!

— probably spends real life money on deepweb animal crossing websites, making shady ass trades with randos on the internet to earn an absurd amount of bells and rare furniture

— if you asked him who his favorite villager was, he'd give you a pensive look before bit of panic set into his eyes. he hadn't thought about that. what was the point in choosing a favorite? there were far too many to pick from, he thought.

"does tom nook count?"

you knew he simply chose tom, because not only is Tom a tanuki (just like him) but he's probably the only character who's name he ever remembers. "sure, chrollo," you chuckle, "that counts"

— his island's native fruit is apples or cherries :) but he tries really hard to collect all of them !! definitely has a bamboo forest going that he's very proud of.

— surprisingly good at decorating the homes. happy home academy loves him

— his video game interests are slim, but when he's into it, he's a completionist. dedicated to collecting every fossil, bug, creature, artwork, and recipe. especially the artwork. when redd comes to visit, chrollo doesn't realize that he sometimes sells forgeries. upon realization that he spent his hard earned bells on fake art, he nearly throws his switch across the room. his google search history then looks something like :

"how to kill in animal crossing"

"acnh murder in game"

"how to steal from redd anch"

"using nen on acnh", and

"how to kidnap and hold animal crossing villagers for ransom"

— he's a fairly brave man, but few things scare him more than, ironically, the in-game spiders. he tried to catch a tarantula once, but when it jumped him and knocked his character out, he decided then and there he'd never go near one of those things again.

"chrollo, those things sell for like 8,000 bells. it's worth it to try and catch them..."

"and put myself and my island residents at risk?" he would retort, entirely serious. he genuinely believes that you can die in the game and lose all of your save data, because phinks told him so, and it's funnier this way. no one on the troupe wants to break it to him.

"this isn't greed island, dear.... it's.... animal crossing....."

"precisely. this is much higher of a risk."

— his eyes genuinely teared up when he got knocked by wasps. you thought you saw a tear slide down his cheek. but the sigh of relief he emitted when his character woke up again was rather cute

— when he figured out you could do face paint, he immediately made his little tattoo as a design. he needed your help, a lot of help, but it turned out pretty nice. the frustration of navigating his boomer technology knowledge washed away when you saw the smile on his face once it was accomplished. worth it.

in conclusion, i just think it would be neat. :)

[pumpkin-stars]

Temptation

Thief!Marcus Pike/Fem!Reader

Kinktober Day 6: Deep throat

Word Count: 1635

Warnings/Content: Deep throating, more backstory than necessary, Marcus is the thief, devil/angel vibes, corruption role-play?, ‘punishment’ but not really, dom!Marcus is still a sweetie, gagging/spit.

My Kinktober Masterlist | Main Masterlist | Join my Taglist

@the-purity-pen​‘s full Kinktober list is here

There were so many paintings and sculptures held in the Bureau’s processing and archive departments. So many priceless examples of human creativity hidden away where nobody could see them.

Nobody but him and his team, anyway.

Marcus knew it was necessary - to stop the genuine art from going back to people’s homes and galleries before trials, so the thieves wouldn’t know that some part of their operations had been compromised before they could be apprehended…

But it still hurt to think of so many paintings hidden from view. Existing unappreciated in only-just-acceptable conditions for preservation.

Working as the head of the Art Crimes Division had led him to you. A forger. Your work had almost fooled him once or twice, regularly fooled rich people with more money than sense or knowledge of the pieces they were buying.

And to see how easy it was for you to create such fantastic copies of the world’s most magnificent artworks… to learn how you did it… He was fascinated. Sure, they were forgeries, but they were still masterpieces.

He’d taken you into the archives - handcuffed and under his watchful gaze the whole time - and you’d shared his views, lamenting that the art stored there deserved to be on display, it deserved to be appreciated, not locked in storage.

The painting you’d been accused of forging had turned out to be genuine, and despite him knowing for certain that you’d forged many more, he’d let you go.

And a few months later, he found you again. This time with a proposition, not a warrant.

~~~

Swapping one painting for an identical one is a lot easier than movies make it out to be, especially when they’re in Federal custody and you’re one of five people who have free and unrestricted access to them.

But it doesn’t pose much of a challenge. And does mean that after a while, after getting a little greedy, you need more walls to hang the landscapes on, and you need spare funds to pay for a forger’s services.

Marcus developed a lot of second-hand experience with theft over the years. He knew what to avoid doing, what to ensure happened, how the police and FBI worked to investigate. His knowledge of various security systems, and your knowledge of who had what and where made you an excellent team.

Before long, you’d moved into a mansion together, the walls full of stolen masterpieces - the entire East Wing dedicated to your own private collection.

You’d diversified after a while, seeking the thrill of a new challenge, taking sculptures and jewellery and anything shiny that caught your eyes.

He quit his job - hung up his gun and his badge, and the two of you spent your days laughing and fucking in the grand halls of your home, draped in gems of every colour.

He’d abandoned his morals, sold his soul to the devil, and regretted not a single second. Especially now, as he relaxes on a chaise lounge, bowtie undone after another successful night, his black robe with gold and blue flowers over his shoulders, a glass of wine within reach, Saxon crown perched on his curls as he smirks at you.

You stand before him, modelling the night’s haul - a sapphire ring, diamond bracelet and earrings, an ornate silver tiara, and a ruby necklace that sits perfectly around your neck, covers your chest, and dangles so perfectly between your tits. Your dress is discarded on the floor behind you and you spin for him, displaying yourself to his darkening gaze.

“Tell me,” he muses as you step closer, “Would you steal from the devil?”

You smile, “That all depends, Marcus, on what the punishment would be if I was caught.”

He reaches for his wine with one hand, gesturing you ever closer with the other, “Would you like to find out?”

You sink to the floor in front of him, drawing the glass to your lips and taking a sip before leaning into him, kissing him, sharing the alcohol with him as he licks into your mouth.

“I’ll take that as a yes.” He pulls away, cupping your cheek with his big palm, holding you with the same delicate touch that cradles the finest jewels in your vaults. “My beautiful angel.”

You smirk, and have to point out, “I’m the one who corrupted you, Marc.”

He shrugs, “Play into the fantasy, sweetheart, just this once?”

You lean up again, kissing him, tasting his smile, and when you pull back to kneel before him, you hold his crown in your hands. “What’s my punishment then, Diablo?”

He grins, sits up properly so you’re between his legs. He takes the crown from you and sets it on the bust behind the chaise, and turns back to you, undoing his fly as his face loses all traces of jest. “I’m going to fuck your throat, Angel. And you’re not gonna touch yourself until I’m done.”

The words go right to your pussy, the wind knocked out of you by such a blunt delivery, a statement of fact rather than any of his usual suggestion - he always, always makes sure you're okay with things before doing them, and you know he’d never do this without your agreement, but unlike other times, his tone doesn’t seem to give you space to argue.

Lucky for him, you don’t want to argue.

“Here?” You smile at him.

“Well there's no point wasting time going all the way across the house to the bedroom,” he shrugs, “Besides, I don’t think you deserve the comfort of a carpet under your knees. This is meant to be a punishment, after all.”

His face softens briefly - just long enough for you to smile at him, nodding your consent. Then his eyes burn into you, their warm brown hidden by the darkness of his dilated pupils. He stands,  slipping his pants down to his ankles, boxers following, baring himself to you before lounging back, giving you space to move closer.

“Get to it, Angel.”

You reach for him, resting your hands on his thighs for a moment as he pulls the small bottle of lube from his robe’s pocket - always prepared. You coat your palms with it, stroking him to full hardness, saliva pooling in your mouth in anticipation of getting to reward him for a good night's work even as he ‘punishes' you for the exact same acts. 

You can’t decide if you want to look at his cock or his eyes more, but the decision is taken from you suddenly, Marcus’s hand finding your chin and making you look up at him, “I said I was going to fuck your throat.” He reminds you, as if you could forget. “Your hands aren't your throat, Angel.”

“I’m sorry, Diablo.”

“Hmm,” He eyes you, “such a pretty voice. Perhaps I’ll steal it from you? Bruise your throat so you can’t even beg forgiveness…”

“Marcus-“ you whimper.

His brows twitch, checking it’s okay. Your lips turn upward and he smirks - devilishly - “That’s not my name, Angel.”

You swallow hard, and have just enough time to take a deep breath before he grabs you by the back of the head and pulls your mouth over his cock, letting you take your time to suck and lick at him, but keeping you quiet. Your hands move to his knees, bracing yourself against him, ready to give the signal if you need a break or to stop, and you start to bob your head, Marcus’s hand just holding you, not directing you anymore. Not yet.

“Fuck, Angel,” he gasps as you work your way down his length, “You could make anyone a sinner with that mouth.”

You moan around him, and his hand pushes lightly, encouraging you to take more of him, another inch, and another, all the way down until your nose meets the thatch of curls at his base, your senses filled with Him. The smell of his sweat-slick skin, the salty taste of his cock, the sound of his rapid breaths and jagged groans. The feel of him pushing - pulsing - down your throat, your eyes watering as he goes as far as you can comfortably take and then some… 

You gag, the sound filling the air as your body rejects the intrusion, but he keeps you still, holding you steady, forcing you to breathe through your nose as his hand pets at your head, soothing and encouraging.

“That’s it, Angel, that’s it. So fucking good, you feel so good on my cock—“

You squeeze his knees, just once, and it's enough for him to pull you up, let you off his cock, though you remain connected - a string of saliva from your lips to his tip - as you gasp for breath.

“Okay?” Marcus asks. You nod, and he waits until you shift forward again before pushing you back down, only taking half his length before he still you. “Keep still, Angel. No touching.”

You hum, run your tongue over the parts of him available to you.

His hands move to your cheeks, keeping you in place, and he starts to move his hips, bucking up into your waiting mouth, fucking your face and your throat - as promised - your gags and groans harmonising with his grunts and gasps, the slap of his balls against his skin and your chin a pulsing baseline to your melody. 

All too soon, the crescendo.

Marcus pushing all the way in, his balls drawing up, letting out a strangled cry of your name as he shoots his load straight down your throat, collapsing onto the chaise as his body turns to jelly.

“Thank you, Angel.” He smiles.

You catch your breath, wipe the spit from your chin, attempt to thank him in return. But you can only croak a few wordless syllables.

Taglist: @elegantduckturtle @goldielocks2004 @honestly-shite @irrelevantbutembarrassing @jitterbugs927 @littlemisspascal @mypedrom @pedrostories @princessxkenobi @salome-c @the-little-ewok @what-iwish-you-knew @yours-truly-r

[chronicowboy]

wip wednesday

we draw ever closer to buddie timeloop release day

A jagged piece of dashboard tears into Charlie's thigh, nicks her artery. There's a spray of blood.

Luckily, Eddie's on the other side.

Not so luckily, Buck gets another face-full of blood.

Buck, however, seems to have mastered the art of compartmentalising whilst Eddie was at dispatch because he only flinches a little. Eddie watches Buck's eyes glaze over and clear in under three seconds, frozen to his spot.

"You're okay." Buck is murmuring to Charlie. "We'll get this piece of metal out and wrap up your leg and you'll be on your way, okay? Can you take some deep breaths for me?" Charlie nods and starts counting off her breaths. Buck glances at Eddie, reaches for his radio. "Could use some assistance over here, Cap." Eddie opens his mouth to protest, but what comes out is more of a pained wheeze. "Eddie, step away."

He stumbles backwards as a hand lands on his shoulder, tries to catch himself before he can fall to the street. He is not bleeding out on the gravel again. He refuses that fate. So, he clamps a hand over the burning wound on his right shoulder and staggers away, stumbling directly into someone's chest. Bobby catches him by the arms, scrutinises him with narrowed eyes, glances at the car where Buck's still working. Realisation dawns.

"Eddie, you're okay." Bobby pulls his hand away from his shoulder. "There's no sniper. He's dead. You were shot a year ago, but you're okay now. So is Buck."

Eddie desperately tries to absorb the words. He drinks them in greedily like medicine for a dying man, but they don't register. Not really. He's stuck on the abstract painting, Buck's face a canvas, his blood the paint. No, Charlie's blood the paint. But it was his blood first. It was Eddie's blood seared into Buck's skin. Eddie's blood standing out against the crystal blue of Buck's eyes. Eddie's blood haunting them both, lurking around every corner ready to pounce.

He'd been fine yesterday, five days ago, Thursday. It had just been tomato sauce then. An echo, a poor forgery. But now Buck's covered in blood again. Eddie throws up all over Bobby's shoes. Now, Buck is covered in someone else's blood and it—shouldn't, but it does—makes him seethe with rage. He wants to march back over there and cut his chest open, so his blood will replace hers.

He can't explain it.

"—nd everything is okay. Everybody's okay." Bobby's chanting softly in his ear as he guides him over to sit on the bumper of the ladder truck, hidden away from the wandering eyes of passers-by and the rest of his team. "You're okay, Eddie. You're okay."

Is he?

"Donato, swap out with Buckley." Bobby shouts over his shoulder. Eddie flinches.

Firefighter down!

Buck swims in his vision, blurry, bloody and beautiful. Eddie throws up again, manages to aim it away from Bobby's shoes this time. Buck presses him back into the front of the truck, undoes the top few buttons of his shirt and slides his hand inside to put pressure on the gnarled scar tissue on his right shoulder. He sucks in a ragged breath, choking on the exhale, but Buck just smiles at him.