CrazyInLoveWithStabler at FF.net
Tis the season, apparently. I received a review on my CSI story Requital today that warned me of another author stealing entire passages:
"...Heads up - someone has stolen your story! I was reading a story called "The Price of Love" in the Psych fandom by CrazyInLoveWithStabler and I recognized many passages that were pulled directly from "Requital." As is often the case with plagiarism, the copycat story was poorly done with many typos, so the sections that were lifted directly from your well-written story stuck out like a sore thumb." The story in question: www.fanfiction.net/s/5577364/2/The_Price_of_Love_Slash
Excerpt: “Oh you just missed him, he left here like an hour ago with that new receptionis."
“He what?” Lassiter said.
“I saw him walking out of here, leaning on that guy from the front desk… can’t remember his name. But anyway, he looked like hell. I mean it- there is no way he could have made it outside on his own. I asked if they needed help, and he said no, that Shawn asked her to take him home.”
“I can’t believe he’d do that. He must have been really hurting to be that desperate. He knew we were coming back soon.” Lassiter said
Lassiter pulled out his cell phone and hit a familiar speed dial. He paced around impatiently, rubbing his forehead with the heel of one hand as the other held fast onto the phone.
“Shawn, it’s me. Pick up, buddy.” Pause. “Alright, well if you get this message I’ll be over in a few. Just put on some pants, will ya?” Lassiter snapped the phone shut and dug his keys from his jeans pocket. “Ok. I’m going over there.”
Pulling into the driveway of a familiar two-bedroom he cut the engine and considered the evening’s events. Shawn had deteriorated a lot faster than he had anticipated. It was almost a spur-of-the-moment decision to start the next phase. He hoped that McNabb wasn’t too suspicious of her, but hell, they’d all find out soon enough. To be honest, he was getting rather impatient at Lassiter’s apparent lack of creativity in interpreting his clues. Wasn’t this guy notorious for pulling theories out of his own ass? He knew, the real game was on.
Speaking of the real game.
My original story: www.fanfiction.net/s/2639927/1/Requital
Excerpt: "He asked that new receptionist to take him home. I told him you’d call.”
“He what?” Warrick sounded as incredulous as Grissom felt.
“I saw him walking out of here, leaning on that woman from the front desk… can’t remember her name. But anyway, he looked like hell. I mean it- there is no way he could have made it outside on his own. I asked if they needed help, and she said no, that Nick asked her to take him home.”
Grissom remained silent, pondering this latest unexpected development while Warrick opted to verbalize his feelings, trying to sort out Nick’s logic. “I can’t believe he’d do that. He must have been really hurting to be that desperate. He knew we were coming back soon.”
The tall CSI pulled out his cell phone and hit a familiar speed dial. He paced around impatiently, rubbing his forehead with the heel of one hand as the other held fast onto the phone.
“Nick, it’s me. Pick up, buddy.” Pause. “Alright, well if you get this message I’ll be over in a few. Just put on some pants, will ya?” Warrick snapped the phone shut and dug his keys from his jeans pocket. “Ok. I’m going over there.”
“Call us after you talk with him, please.”
“Will do.”
Juliette drove leisurely past the rows of cookie-cutter suburban houses. Street lamps slightly illuminated the driveways, revealing minivans, basketball hoops and scattered toys. She noticed a baseball glove leaning against the front step of a house. In her mind’s eye, she saw a father teaching his son how to throw the perfect curve ball; then saw the son excitedly running inside to tell his mother what he’d just learned.
Before the tear could fall from her eye, she remembered her vow. I’ll make you proud, Douglas.
Pulling into the driveway of a familiar two-bedroom ranch, she cut the engine and considered the evening’s events. Nick had deteriorated a lot faster than she’d anticipated. It was almost a spur-of-the-moment decision to start the next, er... phase. She hoped that AV tech wasn’t too suspicious of her, but hell, they’d all find out soon enough. To be honest, she was getting rather impatient at Grissom’s apparent lack of creativity in interpreting her clues. Wasn’t this guy notorious for pulling theories out of his own ass? How was Douglas so patient in toying with him all those months? She supposed Willows was probably keeping him grounded, but there’s no way this last clue would get by him. Not with the gift she supplied him. Then, she knew, the real game was on.
Speaking of the real game.
....
I've read through all of her chapters and it's a basic copy and paste job, just changing names of characters. I am so, seething mad. I haven't contacted the author yet... should I? Or does a mod here do it? Thanks guys. :(
"...Heads up - someone has stolen your story! I was reading a story called "The Price of Love" in the Psych fandom by CrazyInLoveWithStabler and I recognized many passages that were pulled directly from "Requital." As is often the case with plagiarism, the copycat story was poorly done with many typos, so the sections that were lifted directly from your well-written story stuck out like a sore thumb." The story in question: www.fanfiction.net/s/5577364/2/The_Price_of_Love_Slash
Excerpt: “Oh you just missed him, he left here like an hour ago with that new receptionis."
“He what?” Lassiter said.
“I saw him walking out of here, leaning on that guy from the front desk… can’t remember his name. But anyway, he looked like hell. I mean it- there is no way he could have made it outside on his own. I asked if they needed help, and he said no, that Shawn asked her to take him home.”
“I can’t believe he’d do that. He must have been really hurting to be that desperate. He knew we were coming back soon.” Lassiter said
Lassiter pulled out his cell phone and hit a familiar speed dial. He paced around impatiently, rubbing his forehead with the heel of one hand as the other held fast onto the phone.
“Shawn, it’s me. Pick up, buddy.” Pause. “Alright, well if you get this message I’ll be over in a few. Just put on some pants, will ya?” Lassiter snapped the phone shut and dug his keys from his jeans pocket. “Ok. I’m going over there.”
Pulling into the driveway of a familiar two-bedroom he cut the engine and considered the evening’s events. Shawn had deteriorated a lot faster than he had anticipated. It was almost a spur-of-the-moment decision to start the next phase. He hoped that McNabb wasn’t too suspicious of her, but hell, they’d all find out soon enough. To be honest, he was getting rather impatient at Lassiter’s apparent lack of creativity in interpreting his clues. Wasn’t this guy notorious for pulling theories out of his own ass? He knew, the real game was on.
Speaking of the real game.
My original story: www.fanfiction.net/s/2639927/1/Requital
Excerpt: "He asked that new receptionist to take him home. I told him you’d call.”
“He what?” Warrick sounded as incredulous as Grissom felt.
“I saw him walking out of here, leaning on that woman from the front desk… can’t remember her name. But anyway, he looked like hell. I mean it- there is no way he could have made it outside on his own. I asked if they needed help, and she said no, that Nick asked her to take him home.”
Grissom remained silent, pondering this latest unexpected development while Warrick opted to verbalize his feelings, trying to sort out Nick’s logic. “I can’t believe he’d do that. He must have been really hurting to be that desperate. He knew we were coming back soon.”
The tall CSI pulled out his cell phone and hit a familiar speed dial. He paced around impatiently, rubbing his forehead with the heel of one hand as the other held fast onto the phone.
“Nick, it’s me. Pick up, buddy.” Pause. “Alright, well if you get this message I’ll be over in a few. Just put on some pants, will ya?” Warrick snapped the phone shut and dug his keys from his jeans pocket. “Ok. I’m going over there.”
“Call us after you talk with him, please.”
“Will do.”
Juliette drove leisurely past the rows of cookie-cutter suburban houses. Street lamps slightly illuminated the driveways, revealing minivans, basketball hoops and scattered toys. She noticed a baseball glove leaning against the front step of a house. In her mind’s eye, she saw a father teaching his son how to throw the perfect curve ball; then saw the son excitedly running inside to tell his mother what he’d just learned.
Before the tear could fall from her eye, she remembered her vow. I’ll make you proud, Douglas.
Pulling into the driveway of a familiar two-bedroom ranch, she cut the engine and considered the evening’s events. Nick had deteriorated a lot faster than she’d anticipated. It was almost a spur-of-the-moment decision to start the next, er... phase. She hoped that AV tech wasn’t too suspicious of her, but hell, they’d all find out soon enough. To be honest, she was getting rather impatient at Grissom’s apparent lack of creativity in interpreting her clues. Wasn’t this guy notorious for pulling theories out of his own ass? How was Douglas so patient in toying with him all those months? She supposed Willows was probably keeping him grounded, but there’s no way this last clue would get by him. Not with the gift she supplied him. Then, she knew, the real game was on.
Speaking of the real game.
....
I've read through all of her chapters and it's a basic copy and paste job, just changing names of characters. I am so, seething mad. I haven't contacted the author yet... should I? Or does a mod here do it? Thanks guys. :(