#Fan writer

[shes-an-artist]

My Snowman and Me - Bucky Barnes fluff

summary: you and Bucky have a snow day

 Warnings: fluff, fluff, fluff, fluff, fluff, fluff and you guessed it, fluff

A/n: So I may or may not have gotten everything accurate but there's more fluff in here than I wish to admit. And it might have been a litter longer than needed, but what the bloody heck, who cares, have some fluff.

You had never seen so much snow in your life. True, you'd seen the pictures of New York during Christmas time, but you'd never actually BEEN there. And it was worth every moment.

And your boyfriend was there too. 

Not that he wasn't absolute boyfriend material, and he was. Or is, however you wanted to put it. Bucky was a perfect gentleman. 

Tony had texted you earlier that morning, saying that you and Barnes could have the day off since everything was going smoothly at the Avenger's tower. You immediately bolted to Bucky's apartment down the hall and started stamping on his door. 

"Bucky Barnes! Wake up!"

When his sleepy face appeared in the crack of the door, you smiled. 

"Hey, doll." He mumbled, looking rather shaken from his evident sleep. "Whats wrong?"

"I wanna go outside. We have the day off." You showed him your phone which displayed Tony's text. Bucky rubbed his eyes and looked at your phone before looking back at you. "Baby, it's 20 degrees outside."

"So? C'mon, there's a reason you have a jacket!" You pouted, taking your phone back. "I wanna build a snowman!"

"Right now?"

"Yes, Bucky. Right now."

"Oookay. Lemme wake up first."

"Dress warm!" You called before he shut the door and bolted back to your apartment. You wolfed down a bowl of baked oatmeal before making one for Bucky when he got there. Your baked oatmeal was crunchy and creamy, not that mess of tasteless glop normal oatmeal was. Plus your threw in some brown sugar on top of it before you warmed it up. 

After eating you hurried to layer up, a next-to-skin shirt, your thermal leggings, a cotton t-shirt, a pair of jeans, your wool socks, your combat boots(compliments of Bucky) and your white jacket with black gloves. You were tugging on your hat just as Bucky knocked on the front door.

"It's open, Bucky!" You called as you started to lace up your boots. 

He walked in and leaned against the doorway, his hands shoved into his pockets. "You look warm enough to snuggle with."

"Hey, patience, soldier." You stood up, smiling. "You'll get some later. I got you some oatmeal." You squeezed by him, grabbed the bowl and set it in the microwave.

"Thanks, doll." He rested his chin in his hand as he sat on the counter, watching you move through the kitchen with fluid steps. "You're cute." 

You touched your face, sure that your blush could be seen a mile away. You spun around, trying not to look flustered p, but you evidently failed when he broke into a grin.

The microwave stopped you from making a remark as you set his breakfast in front of him. "Eat before I say something silly."

"Yes, ma'am."

He finished off his oatmeal, watching the entire time. "I still think you're cute."

"James Buchanan Barnes." You couldn't hide your smile as you crossed your arms. "Flattery will gain you nothing."

He stuck his tongue out which made you hide your face again. A giggle erupting from your core.

"James!"

"What??" He slid off the bar stool and put his bowl in the dishwasher. "Now are you going to show me how to make a snowman or not?"

You straightened up, fixing your collar and before you knew it, you were both downstairs making a snowball apiece to see how far you could throw it. 

"Ready?" You raised your eyebrows, your competitive spirit rising. 

"Anytime you are," Bucky returned the glance before gazing out over the white blanket that hid the trees that peppered the courtyard. Oscar and the old man were back inside already, but there was a number of younger kids and their parents playing in the snow. Apparently they had decided to make one giant snowman, and they had made pretty good progress so far, with a massive ball on the bottom, about four feet high.

"We'd better throw over in that direction," you pointed to your right, toward a less populated area in the courtyard. 

"Good idea." Bucky nodded. "Wouldn't want to get pelted in the back of the head by the Winter Soldier."

"Noooooooo." You tried to sound serious, but you both knew you weren't fooling the other.

"And no using the metal arm either."

"You know I can't throw left-handed." 

"Just a precaution." You closed your eyes as you finished rounding off your snowball. 

Bucky said nothing but shook his head, you were glad he hadn't cut his hair before winter set in. You had to convince him to wait til spring to do so. 

"Okay, if we get it past the fountain."

"Five dollars says you don't." He grinned at you. 

"Deal." You returned the grin. "After you, good sir."

Bucky made a show of looking like a baseball pitcher, the frown, the look of concentration, everything. You snickered before he let the snowball loose. It sailed over the courtyard and burst into powder against the light post next to the brick wall.

"Impressive." You smiled as he backed up. "But I know better than to compete with that."

"There's still five bucks on the line."

"Yes, yes, yes," you stepped forward, weighing the ball in your hands. You looked outward and hurdled the ball over the fountain, but it barely made it ten feet past it before it fell into the blanket of snow.

"You owe me five dollars, you swindler." You spun around to face Bucky, his eyes rolling back into his head, and his arms crossed.

"Whatever. Okay, so I was wrong."

"C'mon." You smiled tugging his arm into the snow. You were so glad for the boots he had got you, they were definitely keeping your feet dry and warm. You let him go and flopped into the bank of snow, the top layer fluffing up and the next layer making you grunt as it was harder than you thought. But you didn't care. You giggled as you pushed yourself up, but Bucky wasn't beside you. You looked around and spotted his dark figure holding a small child up as they put the orange nose on their rather tall snowman. When they stuck it in firmly, they clapped and cheered, turning to see Bucky's reaction. He made a gasping noise and set them down, making sure they were steady on the lumpy snow.

"Thank you!" They said in an enunciated voice as they waddled away. Bucky straightened up and walked back to you. 

"Are you comfy?" He bent over you, his hands shoved into his pockets. 

"Mmm, if you were down here too, just maybe." You tried to look innocent. 

"But it's cold down there."

You muffled your laugh with your mittens, completely sure your cheeks were red. 

"C'mon," Bucky laughed and hauled you to your feet. "Build me a snowman."

"On it, sir." You began to ball together a large lump of snow, patting the looser parts into place. 

You rounded it to around two feet tall, making sure it was solid before rolling another ball from the snow. 

"Sit on that." You pointed to the second ball. 

"What?" Bucky tilted his head. 

"You heard me, soldier, sit on it, please." You repeated with a grin.

"Yes, boss." He smarted, lowering himself onto the snow, resting his chin on his hand which was propped up on his elbow. "Now what?"

"Now get off."

"Whats all this on off stuff??"

"I had to compact the snow, how would you do it?" You shrugged, finishing off the ball and picking it up to place on the bottom ball. 

"Touché." He shrugged.

"Almost done. Ah, shoot!" You slapped your hands on your sides, shaking snow off.

"Whats wrong?"

"I didn't think about the eyes and the nose..." 

"Don't move-" he tapped your arm before disappearing across the courtyard, bending over a bed of rocks that the kids had dug up from under the snow. 

"Haha!" He returned victoriously, holding up two rocks about the same size. "For you." 

"Thank you, Bucky." You reached up and pecked him on the cheek, but you could see his cheeks flush red before you turned and began to make the top ball, or the head. "How about you hang onto those? Wouldn't want them to run off."

"Noooooo," he imitated you, pocketing the rocks.

Ugh, why did he have to be so sweet? You laughed inwardly, gingerly picking up the top ball and setting it on the center of the middle ball. 

"Tada," you stood back, admiring your work. "Now, you put the eyes in."

Bucky looked at the rocks in his metal hand and held them out to you. 

"No, no, you can do it. You're helping me." You smiled, shoving your mittened hands into your pockets. 

"Okay," Bucky shrugged and popped the rocks into the snow, shoving them just far enough to secure them. 

"Now, the nose...." you muttered, looking around. "It's not a reasonable snowman without a carrot nose.."

"I can't pull a carrot out of thin air." 

"Dang it."

"Shhh, Steve can hear a flea swear."

You snickered, the image of Captain America screaming through a magnifying glass, "LANGUAGE!" appearing in your head. 

You and Bucky looked around, you knew you didn't have a carrot in your apartment, and neither were you about to walk four blocks to the grocery store just for one carrot-

You were about to give up, but the small child Bucky held earlier was tapping on his pant leg. He looked down and crouched to the child's level.

"Yes?"

"Here." They held out a tiny carrot, a small bite taken out of the end. "Snowman needs nose."

"He obviously does." Bucky nodded. "Do you want to put it up there?"

"Uh-huh." 

"Okay, here we go." He picked them up again, carrying them gingerly to the snowman and made a booking noise when they poked the carrot into the snow. 

"Tada!" He looked at the little boy.

"Ta- da!" He tried, enunciating more and looking to you for approval.

"I love it!" You smiled, clapping.

Bucky set the boy down and let him wander back to his family. 

You watched as he did, snuggling up to him. "You're too sweet."

"What?" Bucky looked down at your when you looped your arm through his. 

"I said you're too sweet."

"I think your hallucinating." He smirked.

You shook your head, looking back to the snowman. "He's a little lopsided, but he'll do."

"And I'll bet you'll watch him when the snows melts and just wave goodbye." 

"I just might do that!" You laughed. "It'll be like loosing a family member!"

Bucky just rolled his eyes, but the grin on his face indicated his amusement.

You stifled your yawn for the fifth time as you and Bucky walked through the lit street, the Christmas lights had been up for a few weeks now, but you hadn't been able to really enjoy them. Missions and SHIELD business, all that junk.

Bucky seemed to be mesmerized but the display, his eyes scanning everything he could take in. A smile grazing his lips every time he glanced at you.

"You like it, Bucky?" You held his metal hand, knowing it was probably cold from the extended time in the cold. Not that he complained. 

"It's gorgeous. But you outdo it all."

"Aww..thank you." You ducked, hiding your blush. "You just looked so far away."

"It's been a long time since I've seen Christmas." He rumbled, your boots crunching over the snow. 

"Mm, do you remember it?"

"Vaguely. Just the feeling, I guess. The smells, some of the tastes, nothing more."

"Did you guys have a tree in Brooklyn when you were growing up?"

"I..think so? I'm not sure if we did or not."

"That's okay," you assured, squeezing his hand. "I have a tree."

"I'd like that," he smiled at the ground. 

You smiled as you both paused at a window, the glass was a little foggy but inside was one of those ceramic villages decorated like an old town for Christmas. The train chugging around in a circle around the edge of the white cloth that was laid for snow on the side table. It was almost magical how nostalgic this was. 

You looked at Bucky who was utterly fascinated by the little houses and shops spread before him, the hand painted little details on the roofs, the tiny people in and out of the street. 

"I really like these little things," you commented. "They really just make Christmas the way it is."

"Look," he pointed through the glass, there was a small building with the Avenger's symbol on it, and on the outside were tiny figurines of the team, Stark, Thor, Cap, Natasha, even Banner and Clint were there. 

You and Bucky shared a glance and burst into a laugh. "We'd better not let them live this down."

"Oh, no, no." Bucky shook his head, his smile making your heart swell. To see him happy and smiling meant the world to you. "Not on your sweet life."

"At least they didn't include you, that would have been cruel and inhuman."

"What?? Hey, I have a key role in the team, young lady. What are you talking about?" He grinned, his tone playful. You snickered and bumped his shoulder as you kept walking down the street. You were glad he could take your mild banter, you used to have to walk on eggshells when it came to teasing. But it was one of your love languages, which he soon learned and even sassed back every once and a while. He had a sense of humor somewhere under that stone wall he had built around his mind. You just had to chip through with a little kindness and patience and simple human companionship.

 You felt his metal arm squeeze harder, the metal plates shifting down the forearm.

"You cold?" You slowed your pace and looked at him. 

"A little."

"You wanna go home? I'll make hot chocolate."

He seemed to turn your offer over. "Okay."

You smiled as you both turned around and began to head back to the apartment complex 

Apparently while you were both gone(and it probably happened the previous night, you just didn't notice) but your apartment building was showered in lights and a massive wreath hung where the building split into two parts.

"Oh, wow--' you breathed, awe overtaking you. You felt the chill as a warm tear traced it's way down your cheek. You hurriedly brushed it away, this was not a Hallmark movie for Pete's sake--

Bucky drew you closer to his side, his presence making it all the better. This was probably the first real Christmas he'd spent in his hometown. HYDRA wasn't on his back, Steve was here, no enemies(at the moment) and most importantly, he thought, he had you. He knew better than to ask since he probably knew the answe- 

"Can I stay over tonight?" He slowly asked.

"Of course, Bucky." You smiled. "You know I'd never turn you away."

He was silent all the way to your apartment. He was always quiet, but when he rarely spoke, he was going numb quickly. Had you dragged him outside and brought on past memories? Was he about to have a flashback...?

"James," you started as he shut the door behind you both after you walked inside the warm apartment. "I'm sorry if I made you remember things you don't want to remember, I know you don't really like the cold, and I don't blame you, but-"

"Shhh." He right hand came up and touched your chin, his finger barely coming in contact. "Baby, I'm okay. Honestly? If you hadn't been there the whole time, yeah, I might have gotten scared...and ran off. But I have you. You're my rock, you make everything better."

You could have sworn you melted right on the spot.

"I don't know what I would have done if you hadn't showed up." 

"Thank you, James." You smiled warmly, you hand coming up and grasping his. 

"Now about that hot cocoa."

"On it, Sergeant." You made a salute and strolled into the kitchen, turning the small radio you always kept on the counter to the AUX setting and plugged your phone it, starting the playlist you always had for soft moment or just background noise.

Bucky settled onto the bar stool and watched your movements as he always did, it was a habit he'd made after being 'assigned' to you. As the Soldier, he'd watch your movements carefully as you'd move around the kitchen while making your dinner and his. He inhaled the scent of cinnamon as you sprinkled a little into the mix before shaking up the bag and pouring it into the ceramic mugs that stood on the counter. You looked up and met Bucky's eyes, a smile breaking out on your face as he stuck his tongue out. 

"Would you stop, James? I look like a teenage girl when you do that."

"Do I look like I care?" He raised an eyebrow. 

"Oh, what am I going to do with you." You sighed with a smile, leaning against the island while the water warmed on the stove behind you.

He smiled at you again, his gaze turning to the radio as an older song came on.

"You listen to 40's music??"

"Etta James is not 40's, Bucky."

"The song is." He slid off the stool and came around the island to your side. 

"What?" You looked up, his frame much taller than yours seemed to demand something. "You want to dance?"

He nodded, his metal hand finding your soft flesh one. "Uh-huh."

"Okay." You gently let him lead, his hand pulling your middle close to his, your feet practically on top of his as you both glided over the wooden floor of the kitchen, the song was low enough that you could hear Bucky's heartbeat through his shirt. It was fast as you guessed, yes the super-serum made his heart-rate higher than normal, but you were not a serum. You made his chest fly away when you touched him or even whispered his name.

"Bucky, the waters ready." You mumbled into his shirt, your warmth just now taking the biting pain rom his arm.

"But you're busy."

"Bucky." You knew better than to push away, but you reached over and turned off the burner before you boiled all the water away. 

When the song ended, you felt his kiss on your forehead, his hand fingering through your hair.

"I love you." His whisper nailed you to the floor. He'd never said that, not out loud at least.

"W-what?"

"I said I love you."

"I..I love you too, Bucky." You breathed. His fingers traveled to your neck, gingerly falling behind your hair and resting on the back of your neck. 

"I really don't know what I would do without you." He admitted, his eyes soft.

"I'm here, James. I'll always be here."

You felt his weight shift as he forced himself to pull away to let you get the warm drinks made, his eyes always following your movements. 

"I should have put the blanket in the dryer..." you mumbled as you carefully pouring the still-steaming liquid into the mugs, putting a spoon in each to stir.

"But I have my personal space-heater." You smiled at Bucky while you pushed his mug across the island to him. "Would you like marshmallows?"

"Please." He said softly. 

You poured three marshmallows in your own mug before plopping three in his mug.

"More?"

"More."

You dropped in three more. 

"Thank you." He shyly smiled, taking a long slow sip of the warm drink. His features brightened as he warmed, his left shoulder became less tense and his fingers seemed to tingle.

"You want to move to the couch?" You stirred your marshmallows into the drink so they dissolved.

He nodded, his tiredness showing through. He wasn't active today, but you could tell he didn't sleep long last night. The bags under his eyes were getting smaller each week, though.

You watched him very carefully lower himself onto your couch, his hand immediately finding the large blanket you always kept there. You smiled as he silently patted the cushion next to him, inviting you over, 

"I'm coming, soldier," you smiled. He did this a lot before he went to Wakanda. You never understood why the Soldier was so...docile toward you when he was so aggressive toward others. Was it something as small as your presence, was it your similar need for healing?

"Hey," he tugged on your sleeve, pulling you from your thoughts, "you look far away."

"Sorry, thinking again," you nestled against him, your legs tucked under the blanket as his hand found your hair again. Even though he had a need for other warmth, you could immediately feel his heat through your small space. 

"I love my space heater." You giggled, bumping the side of your head on him.

"Space heater, really??"

"Don't deny it, you're like a fire."

"Love you too, I guess." He smirked as he took another drink. You knew he was playing. You looked out the window to see the lights across the city. You felt safe and secure, like there wasn't a horrid world out there that would take your mind and your very being away. Maybe it was going to be okay.

As long as you had Bucky and he had you.

It was gonna be okay.

Thank you for reading! <3 ~ Sandy

Dividers by @strangergraphics, credit to @embbarnes for inspiration.

Part of @buck-star's Fluffy Winter Event.

[hecalledme-jagi]

The Ponderings of a Man In Love

I've had this FanLore for Zen strewing in my brain for a little over a year and finally decided to write it out into a one shot!

Enjoy!

What does it mean to experience first love? 

Zen wondered as he watched you doze off beside him to the sound of a movie you both had forgotten about halfway through. He smiled to himself softly, gently brushing away a strand of hair that had fallen over your face, planting a tender kiss on the top of your head. The comforting gesture caused you to snuggle further into his side, cozy and loved. Treasured and wanted.

Zen often thought about the meaning of first love when he was with you. He always felt a pang of guilt over dating other girls before you, even if you weren't bothered by it. He knew you were his yesterday, today, and tomorrow--his dusk and dawn. His moon and stars--leaving him with the fact that you weren't his first, which felt wrong in every way imaginable. So there he sat wondering, and really pondering, what it meant to experience first love. Had he experienced it before? If so, that idea devastated him, leaving his heart aching, poking, splintering, and desperately wanting your comforting. Hoping all his wondering meant nothing. 

He snuggled in close, soaking in your warmth, soothing his self-inflicted wounds, nuzzling your hair, blinking back the sting of tears.

Slowly he doze off to the sound of your steady breathing, calming his anxiety. Slowly learning to bask in the simple pleasures of a quiet evening. 

His breathing steadied, finding rhythm with your own, and in complete unison, your chests rose and fell. 

He found his peace in his small basement apartment.

But absolutely and entirely, he found his peace here with you.

And in his slumber, there came a dream. Or, more accurately, a nearly forgotten memory.

Zen was younger here, much younger than you knew him now. His hair barely reached past his shoulders, fashioned into something of a mullet. His leather jacket just a size too big, but in a year's time, it would fit him perfectly. And he stood in a place filled with familiarity. His secret mountain hideout. The view was the same as it had always been, and somehow, that comforted the young boy, here now, and the man he would come to be. 

The cold evening air nipped at his cheeks and nose, a gentle breeze passing through his hair with the faint smell of cigarette smoke. Following the scent with his eyes and nose, he found a scene this young boy very well knew but was far from the scene his adult counterpart adored. There stood a girl who simply wasn't you.

Ji-an, a younger, much more boyish Hyun, recognized with an air of giddiness coating his thoughts, and in like manner, she was viewed with rose-tinted glasses. 

He admired her long black hair as it gently swayed in the passing breeze, her sharp and unusually dark eyes staring down at the view he found so much comfort in, reflecting nothing of the setting sun or the city lights flickering on one at a time. And her lips turned in a slight frown with a lit cigarette in hand. Ji-an was a girl made entirely of mysterious beauty, and for a long time, Hyun might've considered her the most beautiful girl he'd ever met. She was in the same gang as Zen, that's how they had met. She was older than him, but only slightly, maybe sixteen or seventeen. She was a force to be reconned with, a calm before a storm. Freedom and rebellion. Anger and desperation. Loneliness and devastation. But other than that, she was a total mystery. Hyun never knew more about her than she let him see, and maybe that was part of why he clung to her so helplessly. Or maybe it was because he envied her and how free she seemed to be. Maybe he wanted to live reckless abandoned where he was allowed to be who he wanted to be, the way Ji-an seemed to. Or maybe it was because bad habits always seemed more attractive than good ones at the start.

Ji-an sucked on her cigarette, holding the smoke in her throat until it burned. 

“You know,” she began as she turned to look at Hyun, “I think if we had met before everything hit the fan, I would’ve fallen in love with you for real.”

Hyun watched and admired the rugged elegance she exuded. Marvalling, despite how her words cut him deeply. His heart secretly wondering--when will anyone ever truly love me?

“For one thing, you’re a real looker,” she leaned in and kissed Hyun's lips softly, leaving the faintest taste of cigarette smoke and strawberry lip balm on the tip of his tongue. 

Is that all I'll ever be? A pretty face barely worth loving? Another secret wonder he wouldn't discover until much later.

“You’re not so bad of a guy either,” she reached out, with her free hand and gently played with the fringe that hung over his forehead. “If I wasn’t so damaged, I’d probably be able to appreciate that heart of yours,” she poked his chest playfully and with a tone of self-mockery, sucking another puff of cigarette tar into her lungs. 

“But instead, here I am, giving you cigarettes, beer, and bad memories,” she scoffed. 

Hyun took a step closer to Ji-an, standing shoulder-to-shoulder with her. He peered into her face, hoping to read the meaning in her words by seeing her expression more clearly, but there was nothing he could see. Her eyes continued to stare dispassionately at the scenic view, and not for a moment did she meet his searching gaze, nor did she acknowledge his presence at her side. Instead, her brow furrowed, and irritation fizzled in her vacant eyes.

"We shouldn't have met," she said, tossing her cigarette onto the ground and stomping it out under her boots. 

Hyun felt his heart drop.

Ji-an turned on her heels and walked towards her motorcycle.

"W.. wait! Ji-an, where are you going?" He called.

There was no answer except the loud roar of a motorcycle engine starting.

"Ji-an!"

She paused, looking towards Hyun, with more emotion in her eyes than Hyun had ever seen before, "Get out of here. Become something." 

And that was it. 

She rode off, the rumbling of her motorcycle fading the farther she got. And Hyun could only watch, confused, lost, and entirely too alone for a boy his age.

Zen jolted awake, beads of cold sweat running down his back and his heart dropping into his stomach, leaving his chest feeling hollow and unbearably lonely until he heard you.

"Hyun?" you said, coming back into the living room with a glass of water, "Are you okay?"

He looked at you, and the frenzy in his eyes became calm. A deep breath entered his lungs, and it was exhaled smoothly.

And that's when his wondering all made sense. 

Zen realized it then as his hysteria calmed at the mere sight of you. He knew then that perhaps in all possibility, before you came and before he had forgotten what life was like in your absence, he would've considered Ji-an his first love experience. And in some way, maybe she was. Maybe she was his first love, but that thought didn't seem to bother him so much anymore. Because maybe love was more about changing than firsts and lasts. 

(Although, admittedly, he was perfectly enchanted by the idea that you would be his last. You would hold all his ending chapters, and perhaps, that was far more important than keeping all his opening phrases.)

Ji-an encouraged his flaws but neglected his strengths. He knew now that they were bad for each other, beasts ravenously hungry for love and acceptance. In love with their shared self-pity. Wanting each other because of the addictive nature of cigarettes, loving the nicotine clinging to their clothes and mingling in their mouths. Loving the faint taste of strawberries after every kiss that made the bitter taste of tobacco seem pleasant and sweet. But even still, she inspired his drive for freedom.

And you? You came and captivated him.

You nurtured his strengths and loved his flaws, and for that, he loved you, but as his feelings began to grow, he wanted to be better for you. He wanted to change. So maybe, just maybe, it was for the best that you came at this moment in his life. You came at the point in his life when he still had room to grow but was mature enough to treasure you wholeheartedly. Perhaps now was the best time to love you--not to say it was the only time he could love you, nor was it the perfect time, for he knew that if he had met you ten years ago or ten years from now, he'd be ready to love you precisely and honestly--so now as Zen looks at you, finally finding his moment of lost peace, he realizes that all this wondering about "first love" was for not because all that matters is that he loves you.

Zen nods, gently grabbing at your waist and pulling you in. He rests his forehead against your torso, hugging your waist tightly.

 "Never better, honey~"

˚✧₊⁎𝒥𝑎𝑔𝑖𝑎⁎⁺˳✧༚

I do not own any characters, all ownership goes to Cheritz. Thanks for reading!

[ahsfan05]

me when the fic is coming together exactly as it was in my head

[obsessed-sketches]

As a writer I constantly find myself struggling with figuring out what to actually write. For the past few months before I was obsessed with Spiderverse I really struggled with writing at all because of lack of inspiration. I found myself despising the idea of creative writing because it just didn’t give me joy anymore without the constant flow of inspiration. Plus dealing with self esteem issues and not getting a ADHD diagnosis didn’t help. And now that I’m obsessed with spiderverse I find myself finally getting the dopemine boost I needed for so long.

EXCEPT SPIDERVERSE IS SUCH A PERFECT MOVIE THAT I CANT WRITE ANYTHING ABOUT IT. There nothing left to expand on!! (For me at least)

It is a sad moment for me 😔

however fanart is always an option.

[gamerbot-22]

I’ve spent so long writing my own lore for Obey Me to fill in gaps that I have a like. Myriad of reactions to learning new information.

1. [canon information] is good! I’ll use that instead, it makes my writing so much easier cause now I have answers that I didn’t a while ago. (Nightbringer has been SO HELPFUL with characterization notes for the brothers early on)

2. [canon information] is… whatever. I rewrote over this scene anyways, so this doesn’t affect me at all and I’ll keep what I have for now. (There’s a handful of plot beats in the original game that I’m just not a huge fan/haven’t gotten to yet so I just have notes to fill the gap and will either keep or toss them as I read.)

3. [canon information] is wrong! Since when did that character’s name change, I— oh wait. Wait hang on. No that’s the canon name, I just had a different name for him in my notes. Well then. Carry on I guess, I’ll have to keep that in mind— (Good example of this is that Nightbringer might have just named the Demon King finally, but I already had a name picked out for him that I’ve been calling him for maybe 6 months. There’s also a ton of other hunks of information in my head that don’t match up with canon and I’ll forget isn’t correct, although some of them I’m unsure of because the story changes in-canon sometimes.)

4. I really don’t like [canon information] but it’s so minor I can just change the wording. (Only example I can think of is Diavolo using Lilith’s death as a bargaining chip to get Lucifer to swear loyalty to him. I’m not a fan of that plot beat so I just have it be that he offered to do it anyways and Lucifer swore loyalty to him on his own as non-necessary repayment.)

[nepeta-cataria-21]

Yes we areeeeee 🥺😭🥰

i used to be too shy to interact w fanfic authors, but after i finally started to do so, that i realised they're the same @ me

[ekingston]

SO HERE IS THE WHOLE STORY (SO FAR).

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 posts—using 

his dyslexia; 

his intent to implement a tip-system for the plagiarized authors; and 

a sudden willingness to take down the work of every author who saw my original social media posts and emailed him individually with a ‘valid’ 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 ‘apologies’ as well as his website (allegedly—it’s possible that our complaints to his web host, the deluge of emails he received or the unanticipated traffic brought it down, since there wasn’t 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. 

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; 

2. Fandom can really get things done when it wants to, and 

3. Our fanworks appear to be hidden, but they’re NOT DELETED from Weitzman’s 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. 

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 just 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 entirety—though, beyond the first half of the first chapter, behind a paywall—along with a link promising to take me—through an app downloadable on the Apple Store—to 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**) weren’t working, I put ‘Kara Danvers’ 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 covers—as well as the ridiculously inflated number of reviews and ratings—made 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. 

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 I’ve only ever had to deal with art theft—which has a clear set of steps to take depending on where said art was reposted—and 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 they’ve done to get fic stolen from AO3 taken down from monetized AI 'audiobook’ YouTube accounts. I reached out to @echoekhi, asking if they’d 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 Knight’s methods and decided to contact OTW’s 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: 

Which was 100% understandable, but still disappointing—I doubted a handful of individual takedown requests would accomplish much, and I wasn’t 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 prices—though in all fairness any amount of money would be audacious considering every work listed is accessible elsewhere for free—my 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/AO3—and, as a result, my original tumblr post—began 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 message :

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 didn’t screenshot in time so I’m sorry for the crappy notification email formatting):

which he then proceeded to also post to Reddit (this is another Reddit user’s screenshot, I didn’t 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. 

It’s 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 it’s 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, you’re 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 up—but the fan fiction category was nowhere to be seen. Tentative joy and celebration!***

That’s when several users—the ones who had signed up for accounts to gain intel and had accessed their own fics that way—reported that their work could still be accessed through their history. Relevant Reddit post here.

Sooo—

We’re obviously not done. The fanwork that was stolen by Weitzman may be inaccessible through his website right now, but they aren’t actually gone. And the fact that Weitzman wasn’t willing to get rid of them altogether means he still has plans for them. 

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 you—seriously, I’m on my knees here—to 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 you’ve kept in your ‘marked for later’ 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 it’s 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, it’s pretty basic kindergarten stuff that you don’t steal some other kid’s 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 didn’t want their project stolen. And two, he was very careful never to list the IPs these fanworks were based on, so it’s 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. 

**A note about the AI that Weitzman used to steal our work: it’s even greasier than it looks at first glance. It’s 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 ‘art’, in many cases these covers attempt to depict something from the fics in question that can’t 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 ‘found family’ (100% correct, but not tagged by me as such) and I believe The Shape of Soup was listed as, among others, ‘enemies to friends to lovers’ and ‘love triangle’ (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 scrape—not only were our fics stolen, they were also fed word-for-word into the AI Weitzman used and then analyzed to suit Weitzman’s 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. 

***Fan fiction appears to have been made (largely) inaccessible on word-stream at this time, but I’m hearing from several authors that their original, independently published work, which is listed at places like Kindle Unlimited, DOES still appear in word-stream’s search engine. This obviously hurts writers, especially independent ones, who depend on these works for income and, as a rule, don’t 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.

PLEASE check my later versions of this post via my main page to make sure you have the latest version of this post before you reblog. All the information I’ve been able to gather is in my reblogs below, and it's frustrating to see the old version getting passed around, sending people on wild goose chases.

Thank you all so much!

[mostly-funnytwittertweets]

[bluejay757]

[bloodybellycomb]

One massive, legitimate way to improve as a writer or artist or in any creative endeavor really, is to become absolutely obsessed with something and to allow yourself to be weird about it. Genuinely mean this btw.

[kriz-smthn]

[isindismay]

I am thinking about fan fiction writers, but anyone who writes any kind of fiction can answer. (As far as I’m aware, non-fiction is usually written in the past tense - but if I’m wrong do let me know!)

If you like, explain why in the tags!

When I was young I gathered that all serious works of fiction were written in the past tense (past tense third person to be precise) so that is what i did when I started writing. However my mind was blown by the power and immediacy of Margaret Atwood writing in the present tense so I started to experiment with it myself, and now i strongly favour it. I get the impression that past is still the most commonly used, but I’m prepared to be surprised!

Please share!

[cupids-fiction]

god bless anyone who comments on ao3

[toointojoelmiller]

better than drugs

[she-posts-nerdy-stuff]

Just opened my fic document and found this

Thanks, past me. Incredibly helpful.