#fan fic history

[sarahthecoat]

signal boosting in case any of my followers might have pointers.

Star Trek fans!! I’m in need of help!! I’m writing a paper on fanfiction and interactive fan communities and I am trying to find some primary and secondary sources talking about the early days of fanfiction (especially in Trek)!

If you know of any documentaries, journal articles, books, newspaper scans, archived primary sources etc… on fanfiction/fan communities/fan-zines/slash fiction/people discussing the phenomenon of fanfiction/anything else you might find interesting please comment, reblog or tag with some resources ! Thank you !!!

- a desperate undergrad student 🖖😭

[spirk-trek]

Sharing the Sunlight Fanzine & Novel | Drawings by Chris Soto, 1992

Entire work available to read here!

Editorial note from author Jenna Sinclair:

"I have been in love with the Star Trek universe and its characters for twenty-five years now. I wrote my first 'novella' in the seventh grade. Over the years I wrote sporadically, mostly in my head, never, ever satisfied, knowing that there was an elusive 'something' I was unable to grasp. But then I discovered K/S! Unbelievably, it took me a good twenty-three and a half years to do it! I felt as if I had been working on a puzzle all that time, and finally the pieces flew naturally into place. Like just about everybody else, I became obsessed. In six months, I read about 200 zines (yes, I was broke and suffering from eyestrain), and then I sat down to write an established relationship short story, as a way of saying 'thank you' to all the K/S authors, artists, and editors who had given me so much pleasure. That story refused to be written, and this first time novel came flowing from my pen instead. The first 120 pages were composed on a 25 year old typewriter which lacked a 'k,' a '/', and a '-'. You try writing a novel with Kirk, Spock, and other fairly essential words without a 'k'!"

[anishenanigans]

aand done!! This took forever, but it's the first time I've successfully finished one of these templates and it was a lot of fun :]

[lustnhim]

‘let’s take jesus off the dashboard’ 𐙚˙⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩

‘got enough on his mind’ 𐙚˙⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩

if u can’t tell by my latest fic i have a thing for…him in his car…oh well, someone please relate to me 😭

[a-deep-ocean-of-secrets]

Home Is Where I Want to Be (But I Guess I'm Already There)

Summary:

The thing is, Buck didn't mean to move in with Tommy.

Read below or on AO3 (3.8k words)

The thing is, Buck didn't mean to move in with Tommy.

Those first few giddy weeks and months (like bubbly champagne buzzing through his veins every time he saw Tommy’s smile, kissed Tommy’s full lips, found himself tangled in Tommy’s bed sheets) of staying over in his boyfriend's cozy, Venice bungalow have him living almost exclusively out of his trusty duffle bag. Which isn't a big deal. He's used to lugging that ratty thing back and forth from the firehouse to his apartment. 

Can it be annoying sometimes? Sure. His clothes are constantly wrinkled (which majorly sucks when he's trying to dress to impress on date nights) and he's always forgetting or running out of one toiletry or another. If it’s not his deodorant then it’s his mouthwash. If it’s not his aftershave then it’s his moisturizer. Minor inconveniences, really, but worth it every time to wake up in Tommy's king-sized bed with Tommy's strong arms wrapped around him and Tommy's hot breath on the back of his neck.  

It doesn't take long for that to change. Like a seed beginning to take root, Tommy, as he’s done since the very beginning, makes room for Buck in his life. Just as he opened his helicopter to Buck and his friends and flew them headfirst into a raging hurricane on nothing more than an outlandish hunch. The same way he took time out of his busy schedule to grant Buck a private tour of Harbor Station and answered all his jumbled questions as Buck nipped at his heels like an overeager golden retriever, tail wagging a mile a minute, wanting nothing more than to be closerclosercloser to the cool guy with a megawatt grin, who called him ‘Evan’ and had his heart skipping a beat even if he couldn’t identify the why of it all at the time.  

So it’s not a surprise at all when he carves out precious space in his closet and lets Buck's colorful and patterned button-ups and polos blend in with Tommy's neutral henleys and shackets. They’re two big guys with a penchant for working out, so their wide array of tank tops, sweatpants, and basketball shorts become indistinguishable from each other. Their LAFD-issued shirts are so interwoven that they've given up trying to tell them apart and frequently go to work wearing the other's name branded on their backs, much to their coworkers’ loud and endless amusement. 

Buck’s grapefruit shampoo and citrus body wash relocate to the shower niche alongside Tommy's own sandalwood and frankincense-scented products. On the vanity, Buck's red toothbrush is a companion to Tommy's green one. 

All these minute modifications to Tommy’s home are simple and understandable ripple effects of Buck regularly spending a few nights a week there. 

The offshoots of that single seed deepen into winding vines without Buck even noticing. 

First, it's Buck's lucky set of boxing gloves hanging innocently alongside Tommy's Muay Thai gear in the garage. After a frustrating and tedious shift, he enjoys nothing more than a few vigorous rounds with Tommy’s punching bag. Then, Buck's large and varied assortment of books (ranging from biographies on famous figures such as Marie Curie to The Book of 10,000 Incredible Facts to the new YA fantasy series that is all the rage among Christopher and his friends) slowly but steadily find a home among Tommy's WWI & II aviation history collection on the shelves of the reclaimed redwood bookcase Tommy crafted by hand. 

His favorite cast iron skillet and Instant Pot take up permanent residence in Tommy's kitchen, alongside his garlic press and waffle maker. His 'Buck Off' coffee mug (a gag gift from the 118) is always ready to go for lavender and daffodil-colored mornings spent on Tommy's front porch overlooking the canal as kayaks and paddle boards drift by in the early morning light. The sinfully soft, ocean blue afghan Carla knitted for him during the pandemic is draped over the back of Tommy's unfairly comfortable sectional. Christopher’s US History textbook is lying open on the coffee table, left behind after a pizza and study session. The newest season of The Bachelor (the combined forces of Maddie, Chimney, and Josh got him hooked. What can he say? He loves love.) is TiVoed on Tommy's flatscreen TV. His Jeep has its own designated spot next to Tommy's ’71 Bronco. 

The roots of their budding relationship grow deeper and extend farther than the eye can see. 

Buck's most cherished brand of coffee is readily available in the kitchen cabinets. His all-time favorite blend just so happens to be named The Beast. A fun fact that never fails to stop him from leering at Tommy and waggling his eyebrows every time he brews a cup. His favorite cereal is stocked in the cupboards and his favorite yogurt is in the fridge. The same fridge that is currently plastered with Jee-Yun's vibrant crayon drawings alongside pictures of Tommy’s nieces and nephews in Chicago. A true collage of sparkly princesses and menacing dragons beside Polaroids of beaming faces on the sandy shore of Lake Michigan and sitting in the stands of Wrigley Field with messy hotdogs and giant foam fingers. 

Even food Tommy turns his perfect, aquiline nose up to but Buck loves (like quinoa and chirimoya) are now staples in his pantry. His most treasured cookbook, battered with stained, dog-eared pages with the margins filled in with his own corrections in his scratchy scrawl, holds a place of honor on Tommy's countertop on a wooden stand Tommy scrounged up at the local flea market. 

He has to rack his brain to remember the last time he spent a night at the loft. The last time he had been there, to pick up some clothes from his rapidly depleting wardrobe, it had looked even emptier and barer than usual with hardly any food in the fridge, the bed sheets stale and unloved, and a thin layer of dust on his kitchen island. The industrial, modern space had felt cold and clinical and nothing like a living, breathing home. 

It lacked the wooden floors Tommy had spent weeks refinishing as he lovingly sought out the perfect stain. It lacked the extra-long, extra-wide hammock hanging off Tommy’s back patio where Buck delighted in taking the occasional catnap on sunny afternoons. The loft hadn't inspired even a fraction of the warmth that Tommy's home did every time he walked through the door with the key Tommy had given him three months in, dangling from a helicopter keychain that made him grin like a dope whenever he pulled it free from his pocket. 

Buck doesn't realize any of these very important and essential truths until one morning when he nearly trips over his running shoe that was lying discarded by the front door. At the sound of his clumsy stumble, Baron, Tommy's five-year-old Shepkita ("That's not a word, Evan. He's an Akita Shepherd.”), raises his head from where he's lounging on his overstuffed dog bed, exhausted from their early morning run at the beach. 

At the sight of Buck being Buck, Baron lets out a jaw-cracking yawn and puts his head back down to resume his beauty sleep. Kicking the offending sneaker out of the way, Buck stops dead center in the living room, hands on his hips and wearing Tommy’s faded USC sweater that’s been worn soft from years of washings and smells tantalizingly of Tommy’s laundry detergent, and can't help but survey the terrain and take stock of how much of himself is residing in Tommy's space. He's visible in every nook and cranny. 

He has completely, and totally, infiltrated Tommy's home. 

The thought instantly fills him with indescribable joy that blossoms like radiant sunflowers inside his chest. For all of ten seconds. He then remembers the last time he unknowingly moved in with someone and the heartbreaking consequences of it.

Abby.  

She had been so terribly sad and broken in the wake of her mother's death. It had been as easy as breathing for Buck to step up, to prove himself, to try and do everything in his power to fix her with his love and devotion. So he stayed with her day and night, and his things had steadily trickled into her apartment. It had been easier back then to do, he had had so little to his name other than the Jeep and his clothes. And he can't lie, it was a relief to get out of that glorified frat house filled with Connor and the others. 

It had seemed natural to move in with Abby (even if she had been unaware of it). He thought they were building something special together, something made to last. He hadn't known at the time that while he saw a new beginning, she saw entrapment. For her, she would be trading one role of caretaker for another. Going from a sick mother to a young punk (at 26, he had still been a kid) who was stumbling like a newborn giraffe through his first serious relationship. Had she stayed, there would have been so much handholding on her part as he continued to figure out all the volatile nuances of life and commitment. And that hadn't been fair of him to ask that of her when she was so vulnerable, he understands that now with valuable time and distance. She had been so lost that the only thing she could do to find herself again was travel halfway across the world and leave him behind in the process. 

He had lived (however briefly) with Abby. He was living with Tommy, even if he hadn't clocked it until just now. 

And he wants it, he realizes with a jolt not unlike the bolt of lightning that had struck him. He wants to live with Tommy. He wants to wake up with him every morning and come home to him every night (demanding schedules permitting, of course). He wants their high-energy workout sessions that always turn into a different kind of workout and their sunset strolls through the canals with an enthusiastic Baron (complete with goofy selfies in front of David Hasselhoff’s house from Baywatch). He wants their weekends at the Venice Farmers' Market. He wants their monthly meetings of the LGBTIQA+ book club that Hen and Karen started and that Tommy and Buck have hosted twice now inside this very house. 

He wants Tommy. Plain and simple. He always wants Tommy. Tommy, who has the world’s worst fake mouth static, but jokingly brags all the same about winning a medal for it. Tommy, who acts big and tough on the job and up in the air, but he never fails to shed a tear whenever they watch the climax of a romantic comedy. Tommy, who always has a heating pad and massage waiting on standby for rainy days when the pain in Buck’s bum leg flares up like relentless flames. 

Tommy, who has no idea that they're living together. 

An icy sliver of fear sluices down his back at the terrifying thought that once Tommy learns they're essentially playing house with each other he might turn tail and run away, just like Abby did. Or, perhaps, even worse, he won't run, but he won't want Buck here anymore either. He can already see it in crystal clear HD: Tommy's handsome face shuttering to stone as it does when he's uncomfortable but doesn’t want to show it. His blue eyes darting away and his lips thinning into a brittle line as he tells Buck that this is all moving far too fast, that maybe they should take a step back and put some space between them, and then Buck will be banished back to his sad, pathetic loft that doesn't have Tommy waiting for him in it. 

He cuts the catastrophizing off at the knees before it can spiral into something far more treacherous. Tommy, for all his flaws — he drinks orange juice straight from the carton like a Neanderthal and he doggedly believes that his directions are better than the GPS ("I spend most of my time in the air, Evan. I know all the shortcuts throughout Los Angeles County.") — isn't the kind of man who runs away from a fight when the going gets tough. He's the kind of man who digs his heels in and comes out swinging the next round. And he's been nothing but kind to Buck the entire time they've known each other. He enforces tough love when he deems fit, but it always comes from a place of kindness and gentleness. 

They love each other. And they live together. It's time Tommy knows it. 

So, screwing his courage to the sticking place (Jee-Yun loves Beauty and the Beast), Buck shuffles his way into the kitchen where his boyfriend is manning the stove and making their breakfast. In the oven, a frittata bakes away in Buck’s cast iron skillet and on the stovetop, turkey bacon sizzles as it fries. Tommy, hair curly and wet from his earlier shower, flips crispy pieces while humming along to The National playing softly in the background on the radio. 

God, Buck adores this man with everything in him. 

Tommy catches him out of the corner of his eye hovering there like a massive dweeb and flashes a dazzling smile his way. 

“Hey, babe. What was that noise I heard?” 

He can feel an embarrassed blush rapidly bloom across his cheeks until his face is as pink and splotchy as his birthmark. “Oh. That was just me. I, uh, tripped over my running shoe,” he lamely explains. 

“They can be quite the menace,” Tommy says with his usual brand of wry humor. He chuckles quietly to himself as he turns his attention back to the mouthwatering bacon. For a tempting moment, Buck just wants to forget the stunning revelation he’s had and instead stay in this blissful, domestic bubble that seems to exist whenever the two of them are alone together. It doesn’t matter where they are or what they’re doing, there’s just an undeniable ease to the two of them existing in the same space, breathing the same air, hearts beating in tandem. 

But, alas, he’s a man on a mission. 

Reaching up and rubbing awkwardly at the back of his neck, Buck thinks through his options. He’s come to learn, through many a messy trial and error, that honestly truly is the best policy. The last time he had so thoroughly ignored the elephant in the room was when he had asked Taylor to move in with him for all the wrong reasons. 

That had been a train wreck of epic proportions, even for him. He had well and truly bucked that situation up beyond repair. 

But that was then and this was now. And the only things Tommy and Taylor had in common were their initials and their partiality to cruising around LA in helicopters. His feelings for them were night and day as well. He had loved Taylor, but by the exhausting end of their relationship, he hadn’t genuinely liked her anymore as a person. They were too different, their morals too misaligned to exist harmoniously together. It isn’t like that with Tommy. He both loves and likes practically everything about his fellow firefighter, even the traits and bad habits that annoy the ever-living shit out of him. 

“So, hey, I, uh, kinda just realized something…pretty important.” 

Smooth start. And to think, before he met Tommy he had honestly had game. But something about the self-assured pilot, from the moment they met on the tarmac at Harbor and he introduced himself as Evan instead of his standard Buck, had him tripping over his tongue in both the best and worst ways. His foot-in-mouth syndrome had ruined their first date and nearly all chances he had had with Tommy, but it was that same unfiltered nature of his that had Tommy granting him another shot and scoring him as his plus one to Maddie and Chimney’s wedding that never was. 

Which reminds him: he owes Tommy a dance. He files that tidbit into his mental to-do list for another day. 

Tommy looks at him with a quizzical raise of his brow as he lazily twirls the spatula in his hand. “What? Found some more facts about that jellyfish? What’s it called? The spotted—“

“Chriodectes maculatus,” Buck corrects automatically. “Or more commonly known as the spotted box jellyfish. Only the rarest jellyfish in the world, I might add.” 

The corner of Tommy’s lush lips curl up into a fond half-smile. “Yeah, that’s the one. I thought you exhausted all knowledge on it last night when we watched that documentary.” 

“In the words of Chinese philosopher Zhuang Zhou, ‘Life is finite, while knowledge is infinite.’ So, no, I’ll never know enough about jellyfish, rare or otherwise, to exhaust myself, Thomas.” 

Tommy mouths ‘Thomas’ to himself and looks to be gearing up a quippy retort of his own when Buck realizes with tightening dread that he’s on the road to derailing this potentially monumental conversation with talk of jellyfish, of all things. Honestly, he can’t even believe himself half the time. 

Time to pivot. 

“Forget about the jellyfish. They’re not important right now.” 

Swiveling his broad-shouldered body, Tommy gives him his full attention as his eagle-eyed gaze slowly sweeps over the entirety of Buck’s 6’2” frame. Buck, for his part, staunchly fights the urge to fidget as he knows it would give him away in an instant. There’s something almost surgical in the way that Tommy, without ever saying a word, can expertly peel back all the layers of bone and marrow of Buck’s psyche down to his bleeding center where his festering insecurities and crippling self-doubt reside. 

If it were anyone else it’d feel violently invasive. But Tommy has only ever treated these undesirable parts of him with the tenderest of care, delicately stitching up invisible wounds Buck hadn’t even known existed until the moment Tommy kissed him in his kitchen and completely shook the bedrock of all his pre-conceived notions about himself. 

“Sounds serious,” he says after a moment of contemplative silence. The only sound in the kitchen is the hiss of the bacon roasting away on the stove. Through the window over the sink, a beam of sunlight shines in and bathes Tommy in its golden rays. 

Buck heavily exhales a breath out between his teeth. “It is. Or, it could be. Maybe. It really depends on how you look at it, I guess.” 

“Look at what?” Tommy asks, even-keeled as ever. It’d be infuriating if it wasn’t such a damn turn-on. 

It’s now or never. 

“Look at the fact that… We kinda, almost…sorta, seem to be living with each other?” 

Tommy freezes to the spot, his eyes going wide as he blinks, coming off as a perturbed owl for a moment before he schools his features back into his usual calm facade. He looks back down at the bacon and quickly flips some pieces before they can turn into a charred mess of meat. 

Composure regained, he asks, “Was that a question or a statement?” 

He’s always lightning-quick to toss the proverbial ball back into Buck’s court. Always willing to let him take the lead in their relationship and set the parameters and boundaries. Without fail, where Buck goes Tommy follows. It had been a sweet relief in the early days of their relationship when Buck was stumbling around blind, but nine months in and Buck needs Tommy on equal footing with him. It’s the only way forward. 

“It’s, uh, a statement.” Damn. That didn’t sound convincing at all. Closing his eyes and centering himself the way Dr. Copeland taught him, he slowly takes a deep breath, and then another, and then one more for good measure, opens his eyes, and looks Tommy square in the eye. “It’s a statement. We’re, for all intents and purposes, living together. And I want, no, I need to know what you think about…that.” 

Tommy’s gaze slides away and catches sight of Buck’s mug already topped off with his second cup of coffee for the day as swirling mist rises off of it. He sees Buck’s LAFD hoodie hanging off the back of one of the stools situated at the island. He spots Jee-Yun’s drawings on the fridge, giving the stainless steel appliance so much color and joy. He spies the Fokker Dr. I triplane chew toy Buck specialty ordered for Baron lying on the floor near the dining table. 

Tommy’s home hasn’t just been Tommy’s home in quite some time. 

He spots every single change that Buck has brought into his house with his very presence, and he gathers them to him like they’re the most precious of jewels. He turns to Buck and smiles at him. 

It nearly stops Buck’s heart for a moment. 

He loves all of Tommy’s smiles. He loves his smirk when he’s said something particularly snarky or deadpan. He loves the closed-mouth grin he does when Buck is batting his eyes and pouting and Tommy is steadfastly pretending he isn’t endeared by the silliness. He loves the smug curve of his lips when Tommy moves just right inside of him, hitting that elusive, perfect spot that has him seeing stars and clutching Tommy tighter to him until he can’t tell one limb from another. 

But this, this is his favorite Tommy smile by a far-flung mile. 

It is simply radiant. His smile is wide and open, with his straight, white teeth brilliantly on display. It stretches broadly across his rugged face, exposing his deep-set dimples on either side of his ample mouth. His nose adorably scrunches and his eyes are squinty with unbridled happiness. At the corners of his eyes, his crow’s feet spread like tiny estuaries spooling into the grooves of his tan skin. 

He looks boyish and carefree. And so very in love. 

All because of Buck. He was the cause of such boundless euphoria. No one has ever loved him the way Tommy unashamedly does. 

“What I think is,” Tommy says clearly and concisely, “I think we should make it official. What do you say, Evan? Will you move in with me?” 

Buck feels like he was socked in the gut, but only in the very best of ways. His breath is stolen from his body and he doesn’t even know if his feet are still on the ground or if he’s simply floated away with how incandescently lighthearted he feels at this very moment. 

“Y-You really mean that? You want to live together?” 

It never hurts to double-check. He does that every time with his faithful clipboard. It is truly the only way to be efficient. 

Tommy’s smile only widens further. “Evan. You’re my favorite person in the world. Of course, I want to live with you.” 

The sunflowers inside Buck’s chest come to full bloom. 

He and Tommy live together.

[rosepresley68]

We miss them ❤️❤️

[jaqueline19997]

🥰hold me~🥰

✨kiss me~✨

🥹whisper sweetly~🥹

(all credits to owner 😚 p.s I might delete this acct😅)

[kakooshi]

I feel like enough time has passed...

[presley4president]

🩷

[stvolanis]

ELVIS ONE-SHOTS

✎ Birthday boy

✎ All dolled up pt.3

✎ All dolled up pt.2

✎ All dolled up pt.1

✎ Pretty Stars

✎ Broken heartstrings

“𝘐 𝘯𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘦𝘹𝘱𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘺𝘣𝘰𝘥𝘺 𝘪𝘮𝘱𝘰𝘳𝘵𝘢𝘯𝘵.”

[ladelinee]

As promised, 50s Elvis was the winning choice in the survey for my next fic. So here it is! I hope you enjoy 💕

♡ Summary: Red is introducing his friend Elvis to the group. You're not in the mood for it, so Elvis starts teasing and irritating you. 50elvis!xreader; Fluff.

♡ Word count: 4K

Saturday night

As you reached for your favourite cherry red lipstick, you found yourself looking in the mirror. With a final dusting of powder to complete the look, you smiled at your reflection, pleased with how you looked.

You heard your favorite song, "All I Have To Do Is Dream", playing on the radio. Your friend, Betty, started singing along and fixing her soft blonde hair in the mirror next to you.

Saturday night was always your favorite night of the week. It was the time you would meet up with your group of friends. Before going out, hours would be spent in your room with the girls, getting ready and planning what to wear or do to look great and impress the boys.

"Are we running late?" You asked, still trying to decide between the yellow dress and the pink one.

"Don't worry" Betty replied, applying blush on her cheeks as she spoke. "We won't be late. Red is always the last to arrive, so we have plenty of time."

“By the way, guess what?” Nancy, the group rebel, chimed in as she looked through the row of perfumes on your dresser. “He’s bringing a new friend with him tonight.”

"Oh, great. Can’t wait." You rolled your eyes and forced a sarcastic smile.

Dealing with a new person was the last thing you needed tonight. Having to censor yourself and deal with some idiot ruining the mood was not something you were looking forward to.

“Oh, come on,” Nancy teased. “Don’t be such a downer. Maybe this new guy will actually be cool.”

You rolled your eyes again, scepticism all over your face. “Yeah, I’m sure he’ll be just as amazing as the last five.”

The diner on the main street was the perfect spot to kick off the night. Pretty much everyone from high school ended up there at some point, grabbing a bite to eat and exchanging the latest town gossip.

As you, Betty, and Nancy got in, your friends, who had already settled in at your usual booth, began clicking their tongues in a playful way, letting you know that you had kept them waiting.

You huffed in response.

"Awesome! We just need Red now. Once he shows up, we can order" Nick exclaimed chuckling, he was the most impatient one in our group. You could even hear his tummy rumbling from your position.

“Oh yeah, he's coming with this new guy. He is in a different class. I have never seen him, but I’m quite excited to have another pal to play football” Arthur, his best friend, added.

As the conversation dragged on, their voices all blended into background noise. You totally lost interest in what they were saying about him. You rolled your eyes, and let out a sigh, thinking to yourself, "Fantastic, the night is starting out real great”

Then the conversation went from gossip about who hooked up at the drive-in to that crazy incident where someone puked in the school's equipment storage. Then, the diner doors swung open, and everyone turned to see who was coming in.

You all watched as Red strolled in like he owned the place, swinging the doors open like some cowboy in a movie. Couldn’t miss that shaggy hair of his, he threw a look back at his buddy as they came in.

You became curious about how his friend looked. Behind Red, you could spot a guy of the same height as him, maybe a little bit taller, looking down while rearranging his slicked-back black hair. Did he have sideburns? The weirdest thing you had ever seen.

Then he glanced around, noticing everyone checking them out. That's when you got the full picture of him. He had on a black lace shirt and beige trousers, he was not exactly built like a tank but definitely in good shape. His face was friendly, with blue eyes, a straight nose leading to plush lips, and a perfect smile.

You watched as both guys walked towards your table. Your heart thumped loudly in your chest. It was obvious that he was the popular type, the kind who gets whatever he wants without a care in the world. You thought to yourself, "Are you kidding me? I can't be friends with a self-centred jerk like him. He's nothing but trouble."

Red greeted everyone and then turned to the new guy, introducing him. "Hey, guys, meet my buddy Elvis" pointing at him.

Elvis jumps in with a friendly smile, "Hi, nice to meet y'all."

Betty and Nancy were totally swooning, practically drooling over him. Pathetic.

You made a conscious decision to keep your mouth shut and avoid sharing any personal information. You knew from experience that people like him would take any juicy tidbit and use it to taunt and bully. Not this time. You'd remain poker-faced, giving him no ammunition to use against you.

Red glanced at your face, noticing your expression of indifference and annoyance. He chuckled slightly and told Elvis, "This is y/n. Don't mind her, she's just having a bad day."

Red gave you a quick knowing look, silently asking, "What's going on? You okay?"

“Well finally we are all together, now we can get some food!” Nick said interrupting. Then the whole group went to the queue to order, leaving you and Elvis alone.

Elvis flashed a friendly smile and took a seat beside you. Sensing your silence and avoiding eye contact, he asked casually “Just not in a real talkative mood tonight?”

“Just tired” You replied. Well, it wasn’t a lie. Just tired…of all the nonsense.

His smile faded slightly at your tone, but he pushed through, even though he could tell you were not being straight with him. “...uh huh...well, then what’s makin’ ya so shy?”

“Not shy! I just don’t want to talk” You insisted, your voice giving away your nerves.

He raised an eyebrow at your defensiveness but kept grinning, staying chill. “Oh yeah? Then why’d you let me sit here?”

You blushed, but then you glanced around, making him realize he had you cornered in the booth. With a hint of resignation, you shrugged and said, “Well, I didn’t exactly have a choice, did I?”

Elvis chuckled softly at your stubbornness. “‘Didn’t have a choice’, huh? Oh, darlin’…” He shook his head, clearly amused by your banter. Leaning back on the seat, he casually dropped his arm across the backrest, as if inviting you to relax. He smirked, seeing right through your tough act.

You sighed, resting your elbows on the table, your hands covering your face. Slightly uncomfortable under his gaze, you muttered, "Stop staring at me. I can feel it."

He grinned widely as he kept staring at you, tilting his head and licking his lips. His eyes slowly travelled down your body and then back up to your face. “Sorry darlin’, but you’re sitting right in my line of vision.”

"Fine then, I'll switch seats," you muttered.

You moved to the other side of the booth and crossed your arms, determined not to look at him. However, whenever you did glance his way, his smile and the dimple on his cheek caught your eye.

Your focus on his smile was interrupted when your friends returned to the table with the food, bringing your long-awaited vanilla milkshake.

"You know, baby... that ain't gonna change much. I still got a perfect view of ya." Elvis replied, he winked and smirked at you once more as he grabbed his burger.

The girls exchanged glances and started chatting and laughing to lighten the mood, discussing weekend plans and some random gossip.

You seemed to paying more attention to them than you are to Elvis, so he is left with only one goal in mind: get your attention. With a playful sparkle in his eye, he grabbed a chip and tossed it at you.

He peeked at you and saw you were still trying to ignore him, so he sighed and got an idea. He took a huge bite of his burger and chewed loudly, making all crazy eating sounds. He grinned when he saw your eyes narrow in annoyance.

“Oh, could you just stop?” You asked, rolling your eyes. The girls were watching the whole situation with wide eyes and trying to hold back their laughter, but it was getting harder by the second. They’ve never seen you so riled up before.

As Elvis munched on his burger like a wild beast, Betty couldn't help but chime in,“Lord, Elvis, could you chew any louder? I don’t think the folks in China heard you.” She teased, trying not to laugh.

He grinned wider, with a playful glint in his eyes “Stop what, darlin’? Can’t a guy enjoy his burger in peace?” He asked innocently, clearly enjoying your reaction to him.

Red chuckled and patted Elvis on the back “Yeah, buddy, you’re really making an entrance today.” He joked, knowing Elvis was annoying you on purpose.

Elvis grinned innocently and swallowed part of his burger with a satisfied sigh. He then grabbed his coke and slowly started sipping through the straw, still watching you waiting for some sort of reaction. The group, including Red, started shaking his head at Elvis’ acts.

Nancy attempted to redirect the conversation. "Elvis, tell us more about yourself!" she asked.

You tried your best to tune out Elvis and ignore the conversation that centered around him, but the group's interest kept drawing your attention back to him.

He glanced at Nancy and grinned, clearly loving the attention. Leaning back, he crossed his arm over his chest while sipping his coke. "Well, what do you ladies wanna know?" He glanced over at you, catching your reaction to Nancy's question.

Nancy looked at the others, then back to Elvis “Just, like, what are you into? Do you have a girlfriend? How old are you?” She asked with a playful tone, giggling with Betty.

Elvis chuckled at her question and looked over at you before replying to Nancy “I’m into a lot of things, music mostly. No, no girlfriend at the moment, not sure what kinda girl could keep up with me.” He answers, his lip curved into a smile knowing you were listening.

"No one, to be honest" You snapped back rudely at his answer.

Elvis raised an eyebrow and grinned, amused by your rudeness “No one, huh? Think I’d be too much for anyone to handle, darlin’?”

The girls smiled, enjoying the banter between you and Elvis. Betty pipes up, giggling “Well, it’s not like anyone’s been able to handle her so far, Elvis.”

Elvis couldn't help but chuckle as he glanced over at you, picking up on your growing grumpiness. "That's true, isn't it, baby?"

You shoot Betty a deadly look. "What the fuck are you doing, Betty?" you thought to yourself. This is exactly why you didn't want to open up about personal stuff. You just knew he was going to make fun of you now. As if it was not already bad enough that you haven't been kissed at this age.

“Yeah! She has never been kissed before, Elvis!” Betty stated amused talking as if she had known him for ages. She didn’t have the right to say that.

Elvis’ eyes widen slightly at her comment, surprised. He looked over at you, taking in your annoyed expression and biting his lip to keep from laughing.

“No way, honey. Really?” He asked, faking disbelief.

Red laughed from the other side of the table, finding amusing to see the interaction. "Yeah, can you believe it?" he said, knowing that Elvis was really enjoying this information.

Elvis paused for a moment, a sly smirk playing on his lips as he looked at you. "No wonder you're the way you are, darlin'. All pent-up frustration, huh?"He teased, knowing it would get a rise out of you.

You couldn't believe what you were hearing. The thing you'd been trying so hard to avoid had actually happened, and it was all thanks to Betty. You were so mad that you just blurted out, "Can you just shut up?" You could feel your face getting all red from being so frustrated.

Elvis jokingly pretended to zip his lips and leaned in to listen to the lively conversation, but his eyes kept looking at you. When he saw that your milkshake was almost gone, he mischievously shifted closer and checked if anyone was watching. Since everyone was busy talking, he sneakily grabbed your milkshake, took a big sip, and grinned at you.

He winked as he swallowed a mouthful of your milkshake, then smacked his lips together and looked at your shocked face “Hmm, tastes good” He teased, enjoying every second of this.

“What in the hell are you doing???” You asked, getting on your nerves.

Elvis took another sip of your milkshake, making an exaggerated noise of pleasure as he swallowed. He then sets the glass down and he leaned closer to you, his knee brushing up against yours. “Ya mad at me now, baby?” He asked in a low devilish voice.

"What's your deal?" you barked, feeling totally embarrassed in front of everyone by that jerk.

“What ya gonna do, honey? Be mad at me? Well, ya already are” He teased, laughing at your obvious irritation.

Red laughed along with Elvis “Looks like someone's not happy at all” he commented.

Elvis looked at Red and leaned back in his seat, crossing his arms “Can't blame me, though. S'not my fault she's such an easy target” He shot a wink at you, enjoying riling you up.

Red chuckled and nudged Elvis' shoulder

"You flirtin' with her or what?" He asked with a smirk.

Elvis cracked up and shook his head "Nah, nothing like that. I'm just havin' a little fun, seeing how much I can piss her off" He looked over at you, noticing your grumpy expression "But seriously, darlin’. You gotta lighten up a bit. You're gonna spoil the night for everyone else."

You didn't know what to say after he spoke, so you just looked down at the floor, trying to figure out what he meant. It seemed like he was intentionally trying to bother you, with no other intentions, and you couldn't shake the feeling that your friends were annoyed with you because you were in a bad mood. As everyone else continued chatting without realizing the tension between you and Elvis, you felt more and more like no one understood you.

Out of nowhere, you stood up from your seat, and rushed towards the diner exit, tears rolling down your face. It felt like all of your emotions came rushing out at once, and you couldn't hold them back any longer. It seemed like everyone was really into Elvis and his charming personality, and it seemed like they preferred him over you.

Elvis and the others watched in surprise as you suddenly ran off.

"Whoa whoa whoa, where's she goin'?" Nick asked, stunned

Elvis pushed the table away to get up, went to the window to see where you went, and said, "I, uh...... I'll go talk to her," Without waiting for a reply, he quickly left the diner and started looking around for you.

Elvis hurried to catch up to you, determined to reach you. He finally saw you walking away, looking really upset, and felt even guiltier with every step.

"Wait up!" he called out, struggling to keep up with your fast pace. When he finally caught up and started walking beside you, he said, “Damn, you're fast, baby" trying to catch his breath. He stared at you, seeing the tears rolling down your face, and asked "Hey... where ya goin’ all angry and upset?"

"Leave me alone!" You managed to cry out, your voice shaking and tears streaming down your face. You couldn't stop the hysterical sobs that wracked your body, making it hard to speak through your hiccups.

Elvis felt bad seeing the anger and tears in your eyes. He ran a hand through his hair, feeling guilty for making you feel this way.

"Nah, can't do that, sweetheart. I gotta talk to ya," he says firmly, walking beside you at your pace.

Elvis stuffed his hands into his pockets, looking down at the ground as he walked. He took a moment to gather his thoughts before speaking up.

“M’sorry, I shouldn't have pushed so much at the diner. I went too far." He looked up at you, his eyes sincere. He took a deep breath and continued, "I was just trying to have some fun, you know, trying to get a reaction out of you. It wasn't right. I didn't mean it. Can ya forgive me?"

Elvis looked at you, seeing the tears still streaming down your face. You couldn't bring yourself to speak.

“Hey, hey, please don't cry anymore. I'm really sorry, darlin’. You didn't deserve that”

He paused for a moment,

“But you're great, ya know? Feisty, stubborn, and damn pretty too” He added.

He looked concerned as he reached into his pocket and took out a tissue. Slowly, he wiped away your tears while gazing into your eyes. "I’ll buy you the whole damn diner, darlin’. Any milkshake flavour, as many as you want. Anything to see you smile”

You and Elvis made eye contact, and you could see regret in his eyes. He took a step back, giving you some room to breathe. Despite any assumptions you had about him, there he was, trying to help you through this tough time. You felt a little relieved, even if you didn't want to admit it. And you had to admit, the way the light was hitting his face was pretty captivating.

He noticed your silent sigh, and a hint of a smile tugged at the corners of his mouth

"Ya won't speak to me? No insults, no smart comeback? Am I that irresistible up close?" He teases, trying to lighten the mood

“Idiot…” you muttered, chuckling.

Elvis smiled widely, feeling a sense of relief to hear you chuckle. He tucks the tissue back into his pocket, still standing close to you.

"Ah, there it is. There's that feisty attitude I know" He teased, his eyes glimmering with mischief

You laughed at his response. “Well, the thing is, I didn’t expect anyone else to come with the group. And I had some personal stuff I didn’t want to share, like the fact that I haven’t been kissed… because I don’t want to hear some stranger making jokes and comments about it. I thought you might be that kind of jerk…” you said.

Elvis's expression softened as you mentioned your situation. He nodded and leaned against a nearby wall, stuffing his hands into his pockets again.

"I get it, darlin’. Sometimes ya just wanna keep things to yourself, especially when ya don't know the people you're with. I ain't tryin' to poke fun at yer troubles"

He looked at you again, his eyes holding a hint of vulnerability “So I hope ya don’t think too badly of me after this, darlin’”

Elvis took a deep breath and looked at you. He stepped closer, and before you knew it, he pulled you into a hug. You were a bit surprised at first, but as he pulled you close, you noticed the faint scent of his hair gel and the clean, woodsy scent of his cologne. He held you tightly, one hand resting on your waist while the other gently patted your back.

He whispered into your ear "M’really sorry, darlin’. For everything." As he hugged you tighter, he kept talking, "I've been focused on you the whole night, and I guess I let my dumb teasing get out of control." He paused, his face buried in the crook of your neck, and you could feel his warm breath against your skin, causing a slight shiver to run down your spine.

Your heart was racing. No one had ever given you such a warm hug. Feeling remorse, you said, "I'm sorry I didn't make you feel welcome either."

Elvis let out a soft chuckle against your neck, his chest vibrating with the sound. He kept his arms wrapped around you, not ready to let go just yet. "I deserved that. I was acting like a real sonofabitch" he said as he pulled back slightly to look you in the eyes.

"But I'm glad we're good now, baby. That's all I care about," he said with a tender smile, pinching your cheek.

He looked down at your face and saw the hint of a blush on your cheeks. His grin grew wider, and he couldn't resist teasing you a little more. "What's this? Is the tough girl feeling a bit flustered?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

“You wish!!!” You let out, trying to hide your embarrassment.

Elvis laughed at your fast denial and crossed his arms "Aw, come on. You’re terrible at hiding it, darlin’."

He took a step closer, a smirk on his lips "I can practically hear your heart racing" he growled.

Elvis locked his piercing blue eyes onto your lips, drawing closer until his chest almost touched yours. Your heart quickened as you felt his nearness, his gaze fixed on your lips, inching closer to your face.

You closed your eyes, heart racing, waiting for a kiss. Your first kiss. Seconds ticked by, but nothing happened. Elvis didn't close the gap between you both. Instead, he just grinned wider, teasing you with that mischievous smile, inches away from your face, clearly enjoying your anticipation.

He left you staying like that for a second, then spoke, his voice low and amused “I knew it. You were hoping for a kiss, weren’t ya?”

"OH MY GOD, I JUST HATE YOU SO MUCH!!" Your cheeks flushed a deep shade of red, betraying your inner agitation.

Elvis bursted out laughing, bending over and clutching his stomach. Your annoyed look and outburst just made him laugh even harder.

"Oh, I love it when you get all riled up like that!" He managed to say between laughs.

You kept stomping away from Elvis, totally ticked off about what went down.

Elvis quickly got himself together, his laughter fading into a wide grin as he noticed your embarrassed expression. He hurried after you, catching up in just a few strides.

"Oh, don’t be mad now, darlin’. I was just having a bit of fun. Can't blame me for wanting to see your cute, flustered face"

As you kept walking, still grumbling about how much you ‘hate him’, Elvis walked beside you, his smile never leaving his lips. He listened to your muttered complaints, and suddenly his eyes sparkled with mischief.

Out of nowhere, he grabbed you by the waist and pulled you close to him. Before you had a chance to protest, he pressed his lips against yours in a swift, unexpected kiss.

The unexpected kiss left you speechless, your frustrated words stuck in your throat. Elvis enjoyed the sensation of your lips on his for a moment, then pulled back slightly to gaze into your eyes.

"You were saying something about hating me, baby?" He smirked, his voice filled with a smug satisfaction.

Your heart was racing, partly from surprise and partly from the lingering feeling of his kiss, but you attempted to stay composed. You shot him a glare, though there's no real anger in your eyes—just a touch of confusion.

Finally, you found your voice “You…..you idiot. Why’d you go and do that?”

Elvis chuckled, his hand still at your waist, holding you steady “Couldn’t help myself, darlin’. You looked too cute when you were all mad at me. I had to do something to shut you up”

He smiled, pulling you closer to him “Besides, you clearly enjoyed it” He teased, winking at you.

Your cheeks kept blushing, you didn't want to admit that you loved it. So, you gave him a little slap on his arm.

Elvis playfully gasped and rubbed his arm where you smacked him, still grinning. “Ouch! Feisty as always, baby” he teased, chuckling as he guided you back towards the diner.

“Alright, I guess I had that coming. But now, here’s the tough part. Chocolate, peanut butter, vanilla, or strawberry milkshake?” Elvis asked, raising his eyebrows up and down. God, he was really set on treating you to the whole diner, just like he promised.

“What about peanut butter?” You chuckled, feeling butterflies in your stomach watching Elvis holding your hand.

“Atta girl, you sure have a good taste, baby.”

🍨

[spirk-trek]

Nightvisions Fanzine & Novel | Merle Decker, Signe Landon (1979)

Nightvisions, by Susan K. James and Carol A. Frisbie, is one of the first standalone k/s novels published in a zine. It can be read in full here!

[amtrak12]

After a conversation with a friend about this weird trend of fic readers who only want epic length fics (and also what seems to be a massive misunderstanding between parties on terms and their definitions), I went searching for the fandom sources I cut my teeth on. I don't have much bookmarked from those days anymore, but googling got me to this fiction length/terminology breakdown from a Livejournal blog. (Which also has good fandom definitions for other terms like A/N and fanon too, so if you're super new to fandom, go check that out.)

The definitions come from the publishing world (hence the page counts), but fandom and fanfic has always borrowed heavily from official publishing terminology. Flash fiction (aka, anything less than 1k words) is called a 'ficlet' within fandom. We call everything else a fic until it reaches the novella mark -- which may start at 20k words but as synecdochic breaks down on their Dreamwidth blog, there's a lot of overlap between short stories and novella word counts. Because, when you're not constrained by physical page counts, the real dividing line between short stories and novellas are the number of plots and themes you're using. (Seriously, go read their meta on this topic. It's fantastic!) Either way, once you're hitting tens of thousands of words, you're in longfic territory. And then if your fic is even longer than that -- 100k+ like shown in the screenshot above -- it's called an epic fic.

And these terms, longfic and epic, are important because they're used to differentiate these stories from the average fic. Because, at least in the 2000s up until the 2020s, the most common fic lengths you ran into were between 1k-20k words. "Fic" made the reader assume only a few thousand words at most. It's only when you changed the term to drabble or ficlet or longfic that they would realize 'oh this is going to be shorter or longer than normal'.

I don't really understand why that baseline assumption has changed amongst the newer demographics (and maybe amongst some long-running fandom members too?). I've seen a lot of theories and 'tiktokification' complaints, but I honestly don't know what's true. And I don't want to start a fight or even try to change anyone's minds if they are dead set against reading short story length fics. You can do what you want!

Just maybe shift your attitude about it a little bit? Remember that it's a personal preference the same way tropes are, and that one story length isn't better than another. Just like tropes, each story length serves its purpose. Some stories are best told in 1-2k words. Some are best told as 100 word drabbles -- or even a single sentence! And then, yes, some stories do need to be 100k+ in order to be told properly.

But that's not every story. And it shouldn't be expected of fic writers to pad a 1500 word plot into some sprawling epic just because they left it on a cliffhanger. The cliffhanger is probably the point of that fic! Short stories are an entirely separate art form to novels and as such are able to cover different topics than novels can or cover the same topics differently. And that's what makes them special!!

And look at that word count breakdown by genre! That's mainstream publishing standards! Now, go back up there to the definition of a novel and notice that the average published novel is 80k words long.

Let me repeat that:

The average length of a published novel is 80,000 words long.

Could a novel go longer? Sure! And if you're dipping into adult sci-fi or fantasy, absolutely it will be longer! But does your fic need to be longer than the average novel in order to be good? In order for you to feel satisfied when you finish reading it? Why does the length of the fic matter more to you than the content?

idk just some rambling food for thought, but I guess too long, don't read:

~✨~ Every story length is valid ~✨~

It just depends on the plot you have and the structure you want to use to tell it.

[lustnhim]

elvis at a press conference (8-1-69) 𐙚˙⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩

𐙚˙⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩

guys someone requested a fanfic n’ im so excited to write it i already started 😭

[milstrim]

@riathedreamer i have not stopped thinking about chapter 32 it actually broke me thank you for this amazing fic it keeps me going

[rosepresley68]

They are together now, I'm sure of that.

"Do you think she's reunited with her father now?"

How beautifully poetic that sounds makes me very happy.