βWhen will fanfic writers update their stories?β
And never
βDoes this fanfic writer have adequate enrichment to engage in writing behaviours?β
Fanfiction writers (Scriptor fictus) are intelligent animals who need plenty of enrichment as well as encouragement! If theyβre stuck in poor conditions (e.g. have studies, work, have to actually write to have something written) then they require the proper enrichment to engage in more healthy behaviours, like writing. Remember, due to poor breeding and socialisation, over half of all fanfic writers suffer from low self confidence and executive dysfunction so take care of them!
Give your fanfic writers proper care. Fanfiction writers are a life long commitment.
AN:Hey folks - I had a horny dream and this was born. Absolutely not sorry in the slightest.
In this AU, shifters of all types are known even if they arenβt prevalent, including some subsets where the person has special abilities, but doesnβt actually shift into another creature. This includes our reader, who carries βPrincessβ genes.
You couldnβt really argue, the state you were in. And you did agree that you probably needed to be checked over and have your bike assessed as well. So, with nothing really to do untilΒ
And if you want to know what I was imagining for Lloydβs ahem then check out this link (ignore the colours, or not π€). Be warned, itβs obviously NSFW.
Also, this is un-beta'd so apologies for any typos or sentences that don't make sense.
Mood board by me, dividers by @firefly-graphics
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Masterlist
Summary: Being a Princess is wonderful, but unfortunately trying to find your Prince isnβt. However, a chance encounter leads you into a relationship with a man who is like no Prince youβve ever met.the paramedics arrived, you watched as the man paced up and down, phone pressed to his ear.
He was tall. And lean. But you had the feeling that under those faun chinoβs and pale blue polo shirt lurked solid muscles, especially when he briefly turned his back to you and you could see the way his pants tightened over his ass. Jeez, you could bounce a penny off it.
Relationship:Dark! Lloyd Hansen x Female Reader
Word Count: 4.4k
CW: Meet-Ugly, Minor RTA, Minor Injury, Naive Reader, Explicit Sexual content, Oral Sex (F receiving), Vaginal Sex, Sting in the tale, Identity reveal, Knotting, Non-Con, Kidnap, Breeding kink, Monster fucking.
You were fifteen when you and your parents realised you had one of the legendary genes. Small animals suddenly lost their fear of you - at first following you and then climbing on you. The birds would sing with you and mammals would bring you things you needed but couldnβt reach, seemingly mind readers. Thatβs when Mom and Dad sat you down and really explained the world to you. You were a Princess.
At one point, genes like yours had been abundant in the population, an offshoot of those that could cause shifting, but like with your wolf and bear counterparts, the years had dwindled their prevalence. However, unlike them, you couldnβt physically transform (as much as your teenage self had hoped you could change your looks, weight and hair into something more aesthetically pleasing) but you did have strange skills that marked you as different. The animal thing was the main one, but your singing voice had improved overnight, and strangely, your crafting ability had gone from non-existent to May Morris levels. Also those with compatible genes, like the Prince gene found you very attractive and could pick you easily out of a crowd. Men who were Princes found themselves with enhanced hand-eye coordination and an affinity with dogs, horses and hunting birds. Unfortunately, such adroitness didnβt stop them from being absolute douche-bags.
βAnd then,β drawled Matthew, the latest Prince to invite you out on a date, βI spoke to his boss and got him fired. I mean, who did he think he was? Telling me I couldnβt park my car there, like I was some βnormyβ.β His pouty lips twisted up into a sneer that made him look as unattractive as he sounded.
Your own mouth twisted up, but into a facsimile of a smile, and you nodded noncommittally. Youβd learnt the hard way that spurned Princes were not pleasant, and you were glad youβd insisted on meeting him here at a restaurant away from your normal stomping ground. Once you left, you could send him a brush off text and block him. He didnβt know where you lived and you werenβt reliant on him to get back there. You might be a Princess, but you were also a modern, independent woman.
Matthew talked about himself some more, and you feigned interest, making the right noises to keep his fragile ego intact, but inside you were counting down the minutes until you could bring this evening to an end. You werenβt even going to order dessert, because youβd decided you didnβt want to spend more time in his company than necessary. You were starting to lose hope that there were any good princes out there, because this was the fourth date youβd been on in as many months and all of them had been washouts, each Prince more interested in the sound of his own voice and waxing lyrical about his superiority than anything you had to say.
WIth your plates cleared and the check requested, Matthew didnβt really argue when you insisted on paying your share, probably because he was a tightwad. You said goodbye to him at the table, an awkward affair where you had to turn your head to direct his cool, wet kiss to your cheek and not your mouth, and then once he left you retrieved your holdall from the coat check.Β
You ducked into the washroom to change, and came out in your bike leathers. Who needed to be able to ride a horse when you could sit astride something with multiple horse-power? You passed a moustachioed man going in the opposite direction, and let a smirk touch your lips as he did a double-take and almost walked into the door frame. That reaction never got old.
Outside, you stuffed your hold-all, now containing your dress, shoes and tiny purse, into one of the fixed panniers, before straddling your metallic steed. It was mere moments work to put your helmet and gloves on, before double checking your mirrors and starting the engine. It purred between your legs, powerful and mean, and with a kick to the stand and a twist of the accelerator, you were pulling away into the night.
You were happy to note that traffic was light. Crowded city streets often felt more dangerous than the freeway. Traffic jams made car drivers angry and careless, and you tended to avoid riding when it was rush hour if you could.
You pulled up at a stop light, glad this night was almost over and that youβd soon be able to change into your pajamas and settle down with a tub of B&J before hitting the hay. The light turned to green and youβd just slipped the clutch and started moving when it all happened.
A car - electric you guessed later from the lack of sound it made - came up behind you from further down the street, travelling at way over the speed limit. It didnβt move out wide to give you space, or slowdown, and as it passed, far too close, you flinched. Your knee-jerk reaction caused you to wobble atop your bike. You tried to correct it, but you were already too off-balance.Β
It all happened so fast, but also in slow-motion at the same time, and you suddenly found yourself lying half on, half off the sidewalk, stars spinning in your vision. You breathed a sigh of relief at the fact youβd managed to kick away from your bike as you went over so you werenβt trapped under it, but regretted the instinctive movement as pain shot through your ribs. Yeah, some were definitely bruised, maybe even cracked, from the way youβd landed on the curb.
You pushed up, gingerly, onto your elbows and cursed as your head span and whiteness filled your vision. You didnβt have the time to deal with a concussion. However, a heartbeat later you realised that wasnβt your brain reacting, there actually were lights pointed at you. Your dazed brain finally registered the sound of a car engine and the world rushed back in.
There was a man on his knees next to you, an arm stretched out toward you as if to slow your journey back to upright.
ββ¦ youβ¦quiteβ¦-mbleβ¦β
His voice was muffled by your helmet, although you were finding it hard to concentrate on what he was saying because your gaze was stuck on the thick, familiar-looking mustache sitting on his top lip.Β
Ignoring his hand, you pushed yourself into a sitting position, wincing at the pain in your side, and removed your helmet.
βNot sure you should be doing that, Princess,β came the gruff rebuke.
You shot the man with a side-eyed glare. βIβm fine.β However, moving more in an attempt to get to your feet took your breath away and you immediately slumped back down. βOkay, maybe Iβm not fine.β
βIβm gonna call an ambulance,β Moustache man stated. βYou need to be checked out. Iβll call a tow company, as well. Get your bike looked over.β
Your brow furrowed and you did some mental math. If you shifted some money from one account to another, and put some of the cost on your credit card you might be able to afford it all. Stupid asshole driver.
Your rescuer seems to understand the reason for your sour expression. βDonβt worry that pretty head of yours. Iβve got cash to burn. Much prefer to let you have some than the IRS.β He gave you a wink and stepped back, dragging his phone from his back pocket and started to make his calls.
You couldnβt really argue, the state you were in. And you did agree that you probably needed to be checked over and have your bike assessed as well. So, with nothing really to do until the paramedics arrived, you watched as the man paced up and down, phone pressed to his ear.
He was tall. And lean. But you had the feeling that under those faun chinoβs and pale blue polo shirt lurked solid muscles, especially when he briefly turned his back to you and you could see the way his pants tightened over his ass. Jeez, you could bounce a penny off it.
His hair was short, faded at the back and sides, and dirty blonde in colour, the same as his over the top moustache. As he talked, throwing glances your way, he gesticulated with his free hand. His fingers were long and tapered, and there was a ring decorating each knuckle. A man with money, and one who wasnβt afraid to flash it, either.
You finally looked over at his car, unsurprised to see a white Porsche. You giggled as you thought about how much heβd have to fold himself to get in and out of the thing, and then winced. Damn ribs.
Having ended his calls, he came back over and crouched down next to you. βHowβre you doing, Princess? Only a few minutes and weβll be getting you checked out.β His eyebrows gave a mischievous waggle and you couldnβt hold back a very un -ladylike snort, followed by a sharp intake of breath.
βDonβt make me laugh,β you wheezed. βAnd donβt call me βPrincessβ.β
βWhy not? Itβs what you are. Clocked you outside the bathroom back at the restaurant, and knew what you were almost immediately, even if it was your leathers that piqued my initial interest. Youβre certainly a different sort of Princess.β
βThat I am,β you confirmed. βAnd I donβt think Iβve ever met a Prince like you. But that explains the car, the jewellery, your demeanor.β You gesticulated up and down his body.
βOuch,β he said with a smirk as he pulled a cigarette from a golden holder in his pocket. βYou donβt pull any punches do you? I like it. And I can confirm that youβve never met anyone like me, Princess. The nameβs Lloyd.β He held his hand out towards you. βLloyd Hansen, and Iβm gonna change your world.β
Outside of paying for your medical bills and the repair of your bike, you hadnβt put much stock in what Lloyd had stated so confidently. However, here you were, at a restaurant far fancier than any youβd been to previously, and considering this was your third date with Lloyd, it seemed he knew how to keep upping the ante.
The first date youβd agreed to as a thank you. Your ribs had only been bruised and your co-pay had covered most of that, but your bike was another story. It had needed significant repairs to the paint work and the front wheel realigned. Lloyd wouldnβt hear of taking any of your money, but had asked if youβd mind joining him for a meal, just so he could assure himself that you were recovered.
That you could manage. Sitting through tedious meals with pompous Princes was your special skill after all, however youβd been pleasantly surprised.
First off, while Lloyd was firm in his interactions with servers, he didnβt command in a rude, entitled manner. In fact, he even smiled. And that same politeness extended to you as well, from little things like taking your coat and settling you in your chair, to actually asking you questions about yourself and listening to your replies. In fact, his only resemblance to the other Princes youβd met was how immaculately turned out he was, and you had to admit that the way the low light glinted off his chunky gold jewellery was quite pretty.
With your bike in the shop and your ribs still healing, your first date had ended without your traditional change into bike leather and with Lloyd standing with you outside the restaurant waiting for your cab. He hadnβt argued, or tried to cajole you into letting him drive you home, and you liked him all the more for it. And when the cab arrived and he opened the door for you, you found yourself standing up on your toes to press a kiss to his cheek before ducking down inside. As it pulled away, you couldnβt help but look out the rear window and watch him standing at the curb until you turned a corner. All of this meant that when you received a text from him later in the week, asking if youβd like to join him for dinner again, you found yourself unable to say now. He definitely wasnβt like any Prince youβd met before.
This second date was just as enjoyable as the first and you even found yourself flirting a little, something you didnβt normally do. You stayed for dessert, laughing lowly with Lloyd as you fed each other bites of the sweet treats in front of you both, and even leaning across, your napkin in hand, to swipe a little bit of cream off those bristles.Β This time, when heβd walked you outside to wait for your ride home, he kept your arm tucked in the crook of his, your body pulled close to his side, and you felt twitchy - nervous - but not in an unpleasant way, where you were looking for ways to escape, but more because there was a heat suffusing your body and a fluttering in your stomach. When he held the door for you, you went for broke, aiming your goodnight kiss onto his plump lips and discovering that his moustache wasnβt prickly like youβd imagined, but actually quite soft.Β
Youβd only lightly brushed your lips against his before stepping back, not wanting to come off as pushy or desperate, but before you could climb into the cab, Lloyds hand had reached out, cupped your cheek and drawn you back to him for a longer, deeper kiss, his tongue playing at the seam of your lips, although not moving between them. When he broke it, moving back to give you space, youβd felt a little dizzy, and found yourself pressing your fingertips to your mouth, as if you could transfer the tingling feeling to them.
βUntil next time, Princess,β Lloyd had smirked affectionately, before lighting a cigarette and you hadnβt been able to stop your brain replaying that kiss for the next several hours. You swore you even dreamt about it that night.
The invitation for βnext timeβ came only two days later, and you didnβt hesitate, smiling to yourself like a teenager as you texted him back to accept. Giddy with excitement, youβd even agreed to let Lloyd pick you up, despite the fact that your bike was now as good as new. When he arrived on the sidewalk outside your small apartment you found out youβd been right about how he looked getting in and out of Porsche, but youβd managed to wrangle your giggle into just a knowing smile.
Now, sitting here, in this opulent restaurant, a string quartet playing and champagne on the table, you felt every inch a Princess of old, even if the Prince opposite you was somewhat unconventional in his appearance and demeanour. However, Lloyd was as attentive and charming as ever, smiling at you with eyes alight with humour and making sure you were happy and content. He turned the flirting up a notch, making you giggle and turn your head into your shoulder to avoid his too knowing gaze.
βYou really are something else, Princess,β he said as he observed you over the rim of his wine glass. βFunny. Intelligent. Fiercely independent. And beautiful too, of course. No idea how someone hasnβt snapped you up already?β
You chuckled, lowly. βHave you met other Princes? Obnoxious isnβt the word. Present company accepted.β
Lloyd laughed along with you. βYouβre not wrong. And Iβm sorry to say, I probably have my moments. But not too many, I hope. I wouldnβt want to disappoint you.β His leg brushed against yourβs under the table, the heat of it burning through his pant leg and your pantyhose. You didnβt move your leg away.
βYou havenβt so far,β you teased, a smile curling your lips. βAnd if Iβm something else, youβre other-worldly. Youβre just soβ¦ soβ¦ hot!β You rested your elbow on the table, cupping your chin in your hand, regarding him just as hard as he was looking at you. It felt as though you were on the edge of something, fear of the unknown making adrenaline course through your veins. But it was a good fear, one that felt invigorating. Inviting. Did you dare to take the next step? His eyes bore into yours, deep and cerulean, waiting - waiting for your move.
Dragging your gaze from his, you took in the whole of him. His lean power. His muscled and no-doubt powerful arms. You knew what his ass looked like within his pants and couldnβt help but wonder what it would be like to grab hold of it, naked. Youβd even become enamoured of that stupid moustache, fantasising after that kiss about how it would feel against other parts of your body.
It took all of your self control not to squirm in your seat as you once again met his eyes, your decision made.
βWanna get out of here?β
Your back arched and your hands fisted the sheets as your body spasmed from the pleasure washing through it.Β
It had been inevitable that youβd end up here. Both of you had known what you were offering with the question youβd asked. Lloydβs expression had barely changed as youβd spoken, other than the raising of one eyebrow. Heβd calmly requested the check, throwing a wad of cash, that probably vastly exceeded the cost of your meal, onto the table as soon as your waiter returned. Then, without one change to his normal, gentlemanly behaviour, heβd helped you out of your chair, into your coat and guided you out to his car.
βWhere to, Princess?β You were glad he was asking you, seemingly not wanting to pressure you into something you didnβt want, but youβd made your decision.Β
βShow me your place, Lloyd. I wanna see if itβs as amazing as Iβve imagined.β
Heβd grinned at that, before putting the Porsche in gear and peeling away from the sidewalk. And if youβd thought his driving was fast, that was nothing compared to what happened once you finally got to his penthouse. As soon as the door had shut behind you, Lloyd had wrapped you in his arms and kissed you, passionately, and youβd answered in kind, as eager for what was to come as he apparently was.
You hadnβt even realised how heβd been steering you towards his bedroom until your knees hit the back of the mattress and you tumbled down onto it. Grinning devilishly, Lloyd had pulled his shirt off over his head, baring his smooth, tattooed chest and gold necklace. Your fingers itched to trace over every single line of ink, but heβd joined you on the bed a moment later, his body covering yours and kissing you once again as his hands slid between your legs and up under your skirt. Your pantyhose had only provided a momentary barrier, solved by Lloyd ripping them up the middle before pushing your underwear to the side so that he had unfettered access to your core.
Heβd swallowed the whine you let out as he sunk two fingers into you, and you felt the coolness of his rings as they pressed against your heated flesh. His thumb had rubbed circles on your clit and youβd immediately began to twitch under him. Fuck. Had anyone ever gotten you this hot, this quick? When heβd dragged his lips from yours, it was to trail down your throat, your collarbone and then the swell of your breasts. Your dress had still covered the rest of you, but heβd by-passed it so that his mouth could join his fingers.
Youβd like to say that the reason youβd been so noisy while he ate you was because youβd been secure in the knowledge that no-one else could hear, but that would have attributed you with more awareness than youβd actually had. Your world had narrowed, drastically, to only include the man feasting between your legs and how he was torturing your body with absolute bliss.
When your twitching subsided, and your moans had turned to ragged pants, Lloyd raised his head. βFucking delicious, Princess.β His hand wiped over his moustache, which appeared to be soaked in your juices. Stepping back, he toeβd off his shoes, and you watched him lazily with hooded eyes as he pushed down his pants. It was hard to miss how his cock pressed against the inside of his black briefs, and your stomach flipped as you realised just how fucking big it was. He was back in an instant though, distracting you from your concern with more kisses and busy fingers that separated you from clothes at lightning speed.
βYou ready to become mine, Princess?β He shimmied out of his underwear and you felt him land hot and heavy against your inner thigh.
βPlease,β you whimpered, your body apparently desperate for him. You canted your hips so that his cock shifted to lay over your sodden folds. βI need you.β His own hips moved in return, slicking himself up on the mess that coated you.Β
βMusic to my ears.β
Lloydβs hand moved between you, guiding himself into you, and as his thick length began its slow breach of your pussy, your eyes rolled back, a deep moan leaving your throat. βOh, god!β He was going to split you apart. You were gonna die, but fuck what a way to go. You clasped his forearms, your nails curling into the taught muscle, as his hips moved gently back and forth to help carve out a space inside you for himself.
βSo fucking tight, Princess. Youβre gonna strangle my cock.β Lloyd let out his own groan as he finally bottomed out, letting his head hang for a moment as sucked in sharp breaths before meeting your gaze with his bright blue one. βIβm gonna fucking wreck you and youβre gonna love it.β
His hips snapped and you cried out at the sensation. Then he did again, and again, setting up a brutal pace that left you dizzy. Your vision went hazy only able to focus on the swirls of ink over his left pectoral, the creature adorning his skin almost looking alive as Lloyd flexed and moved above you.
βSo fucking beautiful,β he mumbled out from above you. βKnew I had to have you, from the moment I saw you.β He changed the angle of his thrusts and fireworks exploded across your vision. βSo good, the way youβre taking me, but I canβt wait to see your face when I give you even more.β
You tried to focus your gaze on his face but he must have been fucking you stupid, because it looked as though smoke were coming out of his mouth, but he never smoked around you, and there was no cigarette in the vicinity. It must be the lighting, you decided, especially as his skin was also now looking strange. You reached out your hand towards his neck, where he seemed to have a tattoo that you hadnβt noticed before, some kind of scales.
Just then, despite how full your pussy was already feeling, it seemed as though Lloyds cock swelled even bigger. You looked up at him, confused and in a bit of discomfort, and your breath caught in your throat.
βL-lloyd. Whatβs going on? Your eyes!β You were scared now, because instead of round, human pupils, his eyes now sported vertical slits. His grinned back down at you, predatory now, a look you didnβt recognise, and smoke curled out from between his lips. You tried to scrabble back, tried to get out from under him, but he clamped one be-ringed finger down on your shoulder, holding you in place as he continued to thrust and his cock continued to grow.Β
βStop!β You cried out. βLet me go.β
βSorry, Princess. I canβt do that. Once I collect something it stays right here. Afraid itβs what I do.β His hips continued to move, his ardour not affected at all by your attempt to get away.
You beat your fists on his chest and tried to buck him off you, but it was as though his weight had increased along with all the other changes that seemed to be happening. It was as you were having that thought that clarity hit you. How could you have been so stupid? So naive?
βYou lied to me! Youβre not a Prince at all.β
βAawwww, Princess,β he drawled, condescendingly. βI never said I was. You made the assumption and I didnβt bother to correct you. But Princes arenβt the only creatures that can spot a Princess. It was also laughingly easy to arrange our little meet-cute. A quick phonecall was all it took.β As he spoke, his body continued to alter - his fingernails growing and turning into talons, his flesh shifting into scales that glittered in the low lights. βDonβt worry, sweetheart. Youβll like living here with me. I have lots of pretty things in my hoard for you to look at, and, in time, youβll be round and full of my babies. Thatβll keep you occupied.β Another sharp thrust had you crying out again as the pain mingled with the pleasure he was still able to wring from your body. He nuzzled at your throat, a seemingly tender gesture at odds with the way he was fucking you. βAnd I can make it good for you, too. Youβre going to love it when I knot you. Your cunt is going to spasm so hard and cream over me. Be good for me, Princess. Almost there. Almostβ¦β
Each move his body made caused waves of sensations to flood yours, despite the fact you wished it wasnβt so, his ridged and scaled cock rubbing you oh-so-right, even as tears of fear fell from your eyes. Lloyds tongue snuck out from between his lips, longer now and forked, and lapped them up. You sobbed as you felt your orgasm approaching. You didnβt want it, didnβt want Lloyd to have the satisfaction, but it wouldnβt be denied.
The monster above you roared into his climax, his throat glowing as if lit up from the inside by fire, and as his knot popped, locking him into you, you screamed through your own eye-watering pleasure. Your combined cries echoed in your ears as your vision started to turn black, and as you let yourself sink into the escape of unconsciousness you wondered if youβd ever escape the dragonβs clutches.
Tag list: @christywrites, @alexakeyloveloki, @doasyoudesireandlive, @goldylions,
This was hot! Shapeshifter Lloyd hits in a different way. I know that Lloyd wasnβt clear with his intentions of keeping me and all, but you know what? I really donβt think Iβd mind all that much, not if he took care of me like that!
I am on my knees begging you to reblog this post and to stop reblogging the original ones I sent out yesterday. This is the complete account with all the most recent info; the other one is just sending people down senselessly panicked avenues that no longer lead anywhere.
IN SHORT
Cliff Weitzman, CEO of Speechify and (aspiring?) voice actor, used AI to scrape thousands of popular, finished works off AO3 to list them on his own for-profit website and in his attached app. He did this without getting any kind of permission from the authors of said work or informing AO3. Obviously.
When fandom at large was made aware of his theft and started pushing back, Weitzman issued a non-apology on the original social media postsβusingΒ
his dyslexia;Β
his intent to implement a tip-system for the plagiarized authors; andΒ
a sudden willingness to take down the work of every author who saw my original social media posts and emailed him individually with a βvalidβ claim,
as reasons we should allow him to continue monetizing fanwork for his own financial gain.
When we less-than-kindly refused, he took down his βapologiesβ as well as his website (allegedlyβitβs possible that our complaints to his web host, the deluge of emails he received or the unanticipated traffic brought it down, since there wasnβt any sort of official statement made about it), and when it came back up several hours later, all of the work formerly listed in the fan fiction category was no longer there.Β
THE TAKEAWAYS
1. Cliff Weitzman (aka Ofek Weitzman) is a scumbag with no qualms about taking fanwork without permission, feeding it to AI and monetizing it for his own financial gain;Β
2. Fandom can really get things done when it wants to, andΒ
3. Our fanworks appear to be hidden, but theyβre NOT DELETED from Weitzmanβs servers, and independently published, original works are still listed without the authors' permission. We need to hold this man responsible for his theft, keep an eye on both his current and future endeavors, and take action immediately when he crosses the line again.Β
THE TIMELINE, THE DETAILS, THE SCREENSHOTS (behind the cut)
Sunday night, December 22nd 2024, I noticed an influx in visitors to my fic You & Me & Holiday Wine. When I searched the title online, hoping to find out where they came from, a new listing popped up (third one down, no less):
This listing is still up today, by the way, though now when you follow the link to word-stream, it justΒ brings you to the main site. (Also, to be clear, this was not the cause for the influx of traffic to my fic; word-stream did not link back to the original work anywhere.)
I followed the link to word-stream, where to my horror Y&M&HW was listed in its entiretyβthough, beyond the first half of the first chapter, behind a paywallβalong with a link promising to take meβthrough an app downloadable on the Apple Storeβto an AI-narrated audiobook version. When I searched word-stream itself for my ao3 handle I found both of my multi-chapter fics were listed this way:
Because the tags on my fics (which included genres* and characters, but never the original IPs**) werenβt working, I put βKara Danversβ into the search bar and discovered that many more supercorp fics (Supergirl TV fandom, Kara Danvers/Lena Luthor pairing) were listed.
I went looking online for any mention of word-stream and AI plagiarism (the coversβas well as the ridiculously inflated number of reviews and ratingsβmade it immediately obvious that AI fuckery was involved), but found almost nothing: only one single Reddit post had been made, and it received (at that time) only a handful of upvotes and no advice.Β
I decided to make a tumblr post to bring the supercorp fandom up to speed about the theft. I draw as well as write for fandom and Iβve only ever had to deal with art theftβwhich has a clear set of steps to take depending on where said art was repostedβand I was at a loss regarding where to start in this situation.
After my post went up I remembered Project Copy Knight, which is worth commending for the work theyβve done to get fic stolen from AO3 taken down from monetized AI 'audiobookβ YouTube accounts. I reached out to @echoekhi, asking if theyβd heard of this site and whether they could advise me on how to get our works taken down.
While waiting for a reply I looked into Copy Knightβs methods and decided to contact OTWβs legal department:
And then I went to bed.
By morning, tumblr friends @makicarn and @fazedlight as well as a very helpful tumblr anon had seen my post and done some very productive sleuthing:
@echoekhi had also gotten back to me, advising me, as expected, to contact the OTW. So I decided to sit tight until I got a response from them.
That response came only an hour or so later:Β
Which was 100% understandable, but still disappointingβI doubted a handful of individual takedown requests would accomplish much, and I wasnβt eager to share my given name and personal information with Cliff Weitzman himself, which is unavoidable if you want to file a DMCA.
I decided to take it to Reddit, hoping it would gain traction in the wider fanfic community, considering so many fandoms were affected. My Reddit posts (with the updates at the bottom as they were emerging) can be found here and here.
A helpful Reddit user posted a guide on how users could go about filing a DMCA against word-stream here (to wobbly-at-best results)
A different helpful Reddit user signed up to access insight into word-streams pricing. Comment is here.
Smells unbelievably scammy, right? In addition to those audacious pricesβthough in all fairness any amount of money would be audacious considering every work listed is accessible elsewhere for freeβmy dyscalculia is screaming silently at the sight of that completely unnecessary amount of intentionally obscured numbers.
Speaking of which! As soon as the post on r/AO3βand, as a result, my original tumblr postβbegan taking off properly, sometime around 1 pm, jumpscare! A notification that a tumblr account named @cliffweitzman had commented on my post, and I got a bit mad about the gist of his messageΒ :
Fortunately he caught plenty of flack in the comments from other users (truly you should check out the comment section, it is extremely gratifying and people are making tremendously good points), in response to which, of course, he first tried to both reiterate and renegotiate his point in a second, longer comment (which I didnβt screenshot in time so Iβm sorry for the crappy notification email formatting):
which he then proceeded to also post to Reddit (this is another Reddit userβs screenshot, I didnβt see it at all, the notifications were moving too fast for me to follow by then)
... where he got a roughly equal amount of righteously furious replies. (Check downthread, they're still there, all the way at the bottom.)
After which Cliff went ahead & deleted his messages altogether.Β
Itβs not entirely clear whether his account was suspended by Reddit soon after or whether he deleted it himself, but considering his tumblr account is still intact, I assume itβs the former. He made a handful of sock puppet accounts to play around with for a while, both on Reddit and Tumblr, only one of which I have a screenshot of, but since they all say roughly the same thing, youβre not missing much:
And then word-stream started throwing a DNS error.
That lasted for a good number of hours, which was unfortunately right around the time that a lot of authors first heard about the situation and started asking me individually how to find out whether their work was stolen too. I do not have that information and I am unclear on the perimeters Weitzman set for his AI scraper, so this is all conjecture: it LOOKS like the fics that were lifted had three things in common:
They were completed works;
They had over several thousand kudos on AO3; and
They were written by authors who had actively posted or updated work over the past year.
If anyone knows more about these perimeters or has info that counters my observation, please let me know!
I finally thought to check/alert evil Twitter during this time, and found out that the news was doing the rounds there already. I made a quick thread summarizing everything that had happened just in case. You can find it here.
I went to Bluesky too, where fandom was doing all the heavy lifting for me already, so I just reskeeted, as you do, and carried on.
Sometime in the very early evening, word-stream went back upβbut the fan fiction category was nowhere to be seen. Tentative joy and celebration!***
Thatβs when several usersβthe ones who had signed up for accounts to gain intel and had accessed their own fics that wayβreported that their work could still be accessed through their history. Relevant Reddit post here.
Soooβ
Weβre obviously not done. The fanwork that was stolen by Weitzman may be inaccessible through his website right now, but they arenβt actually gone. And the fact that Weitzman wasnβt willing to get rid of them altogether means he still has plans for them.Β
This was my final edit on my Reddit post before turning off notifications, and it's pretty much where my head will be at for at least the foreseeable future:
Please feel free to add info in the comments, make your own posts, take whatever action you want to take to protect your work. I only beg youβseriously, Iβm on my knees hereβto not give up like I saw a handful of people express the urge to do. Keep sharing your creative work and remain vigilant and stay active to make sure we can continue to do so freely. Visit your favorite fics, and the ones youβve kept in your βmarked for laterβ lists but never made time to read, and leave kudos, leave comments, support your fandom creatives, celebrate podficcers and support AO3. We created this place and itβs our responsibility to keep it alive and thriving for as long as we possibly can.
Also FUCK generative AI. It has NO place in fandom spaces.
THE 'SMALL' PRINT (some of it in all caps):
*Weitzman knew what he was doing and can NOT claim ignorance. One, itβs pretty basic kindergarten stuff that you donβt steal some other kidβs art project and present it as your own only to act surprised when they protest and then tell the victim that they should have told you sooner that they didnβt want their project stolen. And two, he was very careful never to list the IPs these fanworks were based on, so itβs clear he was at least familiar enough with the legalities to not get himself in hot water with corporate lawyers. Fucking over fans, though, he figured he could get away with that.Β
**A note about the AI that Weitzman used to steal our work: itβs even greasier than it looks at first glance. Itβs not just the method he used to lift works off AO3 and then regurgitate onto his own website and app. Looking beyond the untold horrors of his AI-generated cover βartβ, in many cases these covers attempt to depict something from the fics in question that canβt be gleaned from their summaries alone. In addition, my fics (and I assume the others, as well) were listed with generated genres; tags that did not appear anywhere in or on my fic on AO3 and were sometimes scarily accurate and sometimes way off the mark. I remember You & Me & Holiday Wine had βfound familyβ (100% correct, but not tagged by me as such) and I believe The Shape of Soup was listed as, among others, βenemies to friends to loversβ and βlove triangleβ (both wildly inaccurate). Even worse, not all the fic listed (as authors on Reddit pointed out) came with their original summaries at all. Often the entire summary was AI-generated. All of these things make it very clear that it was an all-encompassing scrapeβnot only were our fics stolen, they were also fed word-for-word into the AI Weitzman used and then analyzed to suit Weitzmanβs needs. This means our work was literally fed to this AI to basically do with whatever its other users want, including (one assumes) text generation.Β
***Fan fiction appears to have been made (largely) inaccessible on word-stream at this time, but Iβm hearing from several authors that their original, independently published work, which is listed at places like Kindle Unlimited, DOES still appear in word-streamβs search engine. This obviously hurts writers, especially independent ones, who depend on these works for income and, as a rule, donβt have a huge budget or a legal team with oceans of time to fight these battles for them. If you consider yourself an author in the broader sense, beyond merely existing online as a fandom author, beyond concerns that your own work is immediately at risk, DO NOT STOP MAKING NOISE ABOUT THIS.
Again, please, please PLEASE reblog this post instead of the one I sent originally. All the information is here, and it's driving me nuts to see the old ones are still passed around, sending people on wild goose chases.
actually very very grateful for the online slash long distance friendships and connections ive made on this hellsite and i donβt think i say that enough but!!!!!!!! i love you all so so much besties in my phone
A/N: Written for @the-slumberparty's December Daze Challenge.
Prompt: secret santa but somehow nobody picked me
A/N2: I hope you don't mind, I'm kinda gonna cheat again because I really like doing the full cast of characters in the same prompt. But I'm going to cheat even further by going with "Each of the Tech Tuesday cast as your Secret Santa".
Bucky Barnes
Bucky is far more observant than people think. You might think he's the type to get you a random gift from the thrift shop but no. He gets you something he knows you'll like. Something that requires thought.
Gift cards are Curtis's go-to for these things. He already knows more about the people in the department than he cares to know. If he's got your name for Secret Santa, you're getting a gift card to a popular place. If he knows anything about you, you're getting a gift card for a place you've mentioned.
Bemoans the fact that Secret Santa even exists. He only participates because he knows it's important to others. He doesn't bother looking at the price cap because whatever he gets you is going to be something he made himself. Most likely something small you can use as decoration. Curtis still has the kikimora figurine on his desk.
Also hates the fact that this is something that happens. But where Geralt makes his gift, God goes ahead and buys you something he likes. Complete with a gift receipt.
Let's face it, it's Sunshine who's making you whatever gift Jake gets you. But neither you nor Sunshine are gonna complain. Jake's the one everyone wants as their Secret Santa because you'll get some really amazing homemade thing(s).
One year Steve got a few dozen Christmas cookies. He promised himself he'd just eat one or two and share the rest. He'd eaten over half of them by the time he left for home!
Johnny definitely got a last minute big bag of candy for you. And, really, he got it for himself since he knows you keep a bag of that exact candy to bribe him to leave you alone when he gets to talking.
Honestly, he might be the reason there's a price cap on the gifts. It's not that he'd buy a lot of things for you, rather he'd find one item, that would be an incredibly great gift, and not even look at the cost. It's not that he's rich, per say. He just takes his gift giving a little seriously and wants to put the recipient ahead of the price. Also, do him a favor and help make sure Rose doesn't see how much he spent on her?
He's getting you swag from his college (that he gets for free). In his defense, he's a college student. In your defense, his family is rich. Really he's about as bad as Johnny.
Before Bubbles came along, Ransom was a lot like Curtis in terms of gift giving. You get a gift card to place you maybe like.
After he and Bubbles become friends, though, he asks for her help in getting something. He regrets it soon after because he's inundated with questions about his recipient that he doesn't have answers to. He didn't realize how much thought could go into gift giving. But, with Bubbles' help, you'll get a good gift.
And now Ransom knows how to get Bubbles a good gift.
You're getting something handmade. Probably a small painting of something you like. Not a lot of people know Steve's got skills with physical media and he's happy to surprise them. Syverson still has the portrait of Lily hanging in his office.
Like Bucky, Syverson is a better gift giver than people think. There's a reason he's such a good manager for his department. He knows what his people like, dislike, or need in order to get their work done. It might more on the practical side of things, but it'll be something you actually like and use.
He's very much another "gift cards" kind of guy. The primary difference between him and Curtis is that Walter prefers to get you a card from a local business as opposed to a national/international corporation.
He actually prefers to get Bucky's name because he knows the coffee shop Bucky frequents is nearby and he can grab the gift card on his way into work.
Spot on. Also I love how their special person influences slight changes- like Lloyd being so huffy but actually scrambling to get on her good side lol.
adhd paralysis sucks bcuz im just sitting there and my brain is like
YOU ARE WASTING TIME YOU ARE WASTING TIME YOU ARE WASTING TIME YOU ARE WASTING TIME YOU ARE WASTING TIME YOU ARE WASTING TIME YOU ARE WASTING TIME YOU ARE WASTING TIME YOU ARE WASTING TIME YOU ARE WASTING TIME
no work done no rest gained. literally no point of this at all
