#mmm tempted to start a tag game of 'three of your fics you think deserve more love and why' now... mayhaps...

[an-eldritch-peredhel]

Tagged by @thalion71 thank you!

most hits: Dear Ecthelion (letters are hard to write in your head), with 336! I don't check my stats very often so that's crazy to me. It's probably because it's the only one I have written for LotR, not just the Silmarilion lol. It was my second? I think? Work I posted to be longer than 2000 words. I wrote it for SecretlyThranduil for TSS21 and I'm still pretty proud of it and how it got me thinking about Glorfindel, Ecthelion, and Erestor. I didn't actually get the chance to use most of the headcanons I came up with...

most kudos: Also Dear Ecthelion lol, for the suspected same reason as above. Behind it is I will go as seems good to me which is the start to an "Aredhel becomes a ghost and casually haunts Gondolin" AU that I have written very little about but continuously gives me brainworms. I am very very proud of the style of this one, I wrote it for Tolkien Gen Week 21 and it has haunted (ha) me ever since.

most comments: Remember, All, Listen, All, easily. Written for TRSB last year, my only (completed) multi-chap, and the 2nd longest. Far and away the fic I am proudest of. Perfectly suited to my interests, just enough of a challenge to test me, self-indulgent worldbuilding details, some light conlanging, and absolutely GORGEOUS prompt art by catadromously. Sticking exclusively to Dior's perspective of his fairy-tale parents was really fun and I think gave a pretty unique flavor, and I've been so, so, so gratified with all the positive feedback saying that they could feel and believe the relationships. If you only read/kudos/comment on one of these, this is the one I recommend.

most bookmarks: Calómë (dusk-light), a prompt fill for jaz-the-bard. Writing this was like polishing away a stone to reveal the heart of how I want to characterize Maeglin. Still working on how/if this fits into my personal Arda, and I know the Gondolin OT3 isn't everyone's cup of tea, but I did a lot in here that I'm very happy with, and it took me so long to work out a variation on both Lomion and Maeglin that I was pleased with, didn't have Implications, was gender neutral, and also translated easily and cleanly into both Sindarin and Quenya, so I'm definitely keeping Calómë.

most words: The Goddess and the Weaver, beating out Remember, All by a cool 600. Ironically, this is my other (unfinished) multi-chap. Two-shot? The second half is quietly languishing in my drafts but it is Not forgotten, and will be written if nothing else than for the sake of 3 (three) scenes that I have in extreme clarity in my head. I have So many Miriel thoughts about her and her relationships to life and Vairë and Finwë and Indis and her son... There is a Story behind this fic, which I don't have the space for here but is detailed in the author's note at the beginning, but even though it has fought me every step of the way I am content to let it rest now as is for a while before battling again. Also I did some funky formatting for Vairë's speech and pronouns which was a lot of work but very very cool imo.

least words: This is a Forest, at 547. I usually post short one-shots because I know that I can get them done even when I have almost no inspiration or energy, but this is short even for me. Written for a class as fanfic with the serial numbers filed off and posted in its natural habitat, this is purely self indulgent Doriath As Fey Eldritch Horror Entity With Beren Dealing purple prose. Is it my best technical work? No, but I had so much fun with it, and I think I got across the vibes I wanted to. Also Quick shout outs to the least word runner-ups: A Cruel Forest (630) which is the same Doriath As Entity premise but with a completely different style and Elured and Elurin as Eldritch Maiarin Entities Twisted, and the prince is dead (661) in which Fingon has an existential crisis about his name and the kingship after his father rides out to face Morgoth. Both also written for Gen Week 21. I had so much time that year.

Tagging: @yellow-faerie @tilions @jaz-the-bard @amethysttribble @starspray @swanmaids @arofili if y'all feel like it! Any other writers who see this and want to self-promo, count this as me tagging you to show off your stuff.

[spaztronautwriter]

#flirting (an Olicity fic)

Here’s a ridiculous little celebrity/social media au one shot. I wrote it this summer and totally forgot about it but I found it today so… here it is! There may be a few more parts to this, idk. We’ll see!

###

She was standing in the kitchen, just finishing off her (disgusting) protein shake, when an alert lit the face of her phone.

@OliverQueen tweeted a photo.

She chugged the last sip—ugh!—and swiped the screen. A second later a photo of Oliver was staring back at her and she’d be lying if she said her breathe didn’t catch a little at the sight.

Tight t-shirt, crazy blue eyes, just the right amount of scruff… He was gorgeous, always, but especially standing on the deck of a yacht, leaning over the railing just enough to show off his muscular shoulders. The tweet said, “Fav pic from the @MensHealth shoot.” It already had over a thousand likes.

Felicity liked the tweet and threw her glass in the sink, maybe a little rougher than she’d meant to considering the way it rattled around.

It wasn’t that she was jealous. She was happy for Oliver; he worked hard to maintain his physique and anyone who worked that hard for anything deserved praise and a spread in Men’s Health was good for him, but ugh! Over a thousand likes in less than three minutes? Really? How was it possible?

Her phone vibrated and she looked down to see another alert.

@OliverQueen: @FelicitySmoak you should have come with. Missed you on the boat ;)

Felicity sighed and tapped out a return message.

@FelicitySmoak: @OliverQueen motion sickness, photogs and getting hit on 24/7? Yeah what was I thinking passing on that?

As was usual whenever she got into a conversation with Oliver on social media, her phone started blowing up. Likes and follows and retweets. Everyone wanted a piece of Oliver Queen, even if it was just in the form of stalking him on Twitter.

Even she had her claws in him in a way. It wasn’t like he talked to her on Twitter because he missed her sparkling personality. No, she was the Ronald Miller to his Cindy Mancini, using his popularity and social media prowess to Can’t Buy Me Love her way into the hearts of America. Or, at least, into the hearts of his millions of followers.

Her phone vibrated again, but this time it was a text.

Oliver: You’re getting better, but next time be more “flirty flirt” and less “I’m on my period”

Felicity: First, never think my period has anything to do with my response to you. Second, how was I supposed to respond to that??

The typing bubble popped up and just sort of… stayed awhile, so Felicity put her phone down on her kitchen counter and pulled an apple out of the fruit bowl. She wasn’t supposed to eat apples according to her trainer, they made her bloat, but the shake just wasn’t enough for breakfast and it was either the apple or Felicity was about to go scrounging through her cabinets in search of old pancake mix.

She enjoyed acting, but everything else that came with the job—the workouts, the diets, the parties… the Oliver—it could all bite her. Well, not Oliver. If Oliver ever found out she’d thought that he’d take it as an invitation. Her phone buzzed and she looked down to read the message.

Oliver: You’re supposed to be using our friendship to boost your visibility. And even that bitchy tweet got a few hundred likes. But I thought we were supposed to turn you into the girl next door that every guy wanted and every girl wanted to be friends with? That was what Lyla said anyway. If you want to switch it up just let me know. Also I can hit on you a lot harder than I have been, just so you know ;)

Felicity: Friendship might be pushing it. But yeah, Lyla said she didn’t want me to alienate anyone so…

Oliver: Pretty sure the only one you’ve been alienating is me. And you don’t consider us to be friends? After all this help I’ve been offering you. Free of charge btw. You can go out and hire a social media expert and PR guy if you hate me so much.

Felicity sighed, barely holding back an eye roll.

Felicity: I don’t hate you Oliver. It’s just… this is all so fake. I hate being fake. Last week when you and Lyla suggested that “candid” Instagram selfie? It took 3 hours!

Oliver: That’s because you freeze up in front of the camera. Which is ridiculous because I’ve seen your acting. You’re good. There’s no reason to choke in front of your own camera phone. And the only one making it fake is you. Maybe we’re not as good of friends as I’m trying to portray, but that’s only because you won’t give me a chance.

Felicity: Because all you do is hit on me when we’re together. Or tell me how terrible I am at Twitter. Or just being a person in general.

Her phone buzzed, showing her contact photo of Oliver. She accepted the call.

“Look, I get it. All this attention isn’t what you’re in it for. But that’s part of the gig, okay?” Oliver said, no platitudes offered. She could hear the sound of weights being moved around in the background and figured he was already with his trainer.

Being the heir of a multi-billion dollar tech company wasn’t enough for him. No, Oliver lived a life of pride and sin and he lived it quite publicly. So personal trainers and nutritionists were standard stock for him. His sister Thea wasn’t quite as bad, but that was probably because she was only seventeen. Even so, she still had a personal stylist that followed her everywhere she went.

And this was what Felicity was supposed to act like. She couldn’t get over it. All she’d wanted to do was act. To the best of her ability, she wanted to tell stories. About women, about love, about grief. She had no idea why, in order to do that, she needed to be seen with certain people. She’d lucked out when her agent, Lyla Michaels, had introduced her to Oliver Queen, celebrity rich kid extraordinaire. Lyla’s ex-husband was Oliver’s body guard-slash-personal trainer and for some reason he’d agreed to taking her under his social media wing.

Before Oliver, Felicity didn’t have any social media. Now she had all of them, including Snapchat. Felicity didn’t even know what Snapchat was, but she had one!

“Yeah, yeah. Brand recognition and all that. God,” she sighed, “I’m so sick of hearing the words brand recognition. I’m not a brand. I’m a person!”

“No, you’re not,” Oliver snapped back. “You are not a person to these people, Felicity. All you are is a brand. A name. And when enough people know that name, that’s when you start getting opportunities, so make them know your name.”

Felicity leaned back against the counter, wanting to cry. “We’ve been doing this for over a month now, and the only thing I’ve gotten from it is a few thousand followers and a tabloid rumor that I’m sleeping with you.”

“The media thinks everyone’s sleeping with me,” Oliver dismissed. “Is that what’s crawled up your ass the past couple days? Some TMZ rumor?”

“Nothing has crawled up my ass, Oliver. You know what, just lets keep my ass out of your thoughts, okay?”

“Mmm, no can do,” he teased. “Your ass takes up about 65 percent of my thoughts. What would I think about?”

"Someone else’s ass?” she suggested.

"Aw, but you know you’ve got the best ass in the game, Smoak. That’s why I keep suggesting posting photos of you doing squats on Instagram. That’s the kind of quality content people are looking for, trust me.”

"I know exactly what kind of ‘content’ you usually look for on the Internet, Oliver. I’ve seen your browser history.”

There was a pause and Felicity wanted to laugh.

"When?! How? When did you…?” he sputtered and Felicity finally broke.

"Kidding, Queen. Relax. I was tempted, but I didn’t want to have to bleach my brain afterwards so I didn’t peek.”

"Ha,” he deadpanned. “What are you doing later? Come over.”

"Can’t,” she said. “I’ve got a meeting with Lyla and this indie director, Ray Palmer. He’s not very popular, but his last movie was almost nominated for an Academy Award.”

"No such thing as almost nominated, Felicity. Still, good luck.”

Felicity smiled. It wasn’t often Oliver was sweet, but when he was it made her feel all warm and bubbly inside. “Thanks. It’s just a meeting, but Lyla said that he’s really thinking about me for the lead.”

"Is that the audition you went on a couple weeks ago?”

"Yeah. He told Lyla I’m at the top of his list, but since there’s still a list at all I’m not getting my hopes up just yet.”

"You’ll get the part, don’t worry,” Oliver assured her.

"Thank you.”

There was another pause, but this time she had no idea what he could be thinking. Eventually, he cleared his throat.

"I have a few more pictures from the shoot that I’m supposed to tease. I’m sending one to you. Post it later this afternoon.”

"I’m posting a picture of you? On your photoshoot? Why?”

"Because you won’t post pictures of your ass in yoga pants, so my face is the next best thing.”

She couldn’t help but laugh. “Fine, what am I supposed to say?”

"You’ll figure it out,” Oliver said, then hung up without so much as a goodbye.

"No! Oliver! Dammit,” she cursed, putting her phone down on the counter. A second later a message popped up on the screen and she clicked to see the photo she was supposed to post later.

It was Oliver standing in profile wearing a white t-shirt, arms rolled up to show off his biceps—very touchable biceps. Everything about him was touchable if Felicity was being honest with herself. She totally understood why everyone wanted a piece of him.

How the hell was she supposed to caption this?

@FelicitySmoak: Yum 👅 @OliverQueen @MensHealth

It took less than five minutes—and almost six hundred likes! Score!—before her phone buzzed.

Oliver: Really?

Felicity: You said "flirty flirt”.

Oliver: We need to work on your flirty flirt…

Felicity laughed and opened her Twitter app again, telling herself it was just the climbing number of likes and retweets she was staring at.

###

Tagging: @hope-for-olicity @tdgal1 @marniforolicity