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You like your elves more than me
giddyI have a feeling that quite a few people are annoyed at me for how badly I have been procrastinating on my fics, but I assure you, you are not nearly as upset at me as my muses are. Bellatrix was too sulky to even talk about it. Max, however, shared his views:
Max comes up to Feta, quite angry. “You haven’t been writing me.”
“I haven’t had time.”
“You mean you’ve been unsure of how to write me since you read that angstfic."
“What?”
“You think I’m too tame.”
“Huh?”
“You liked the Max in that fic better than you like me.”
“No, I don’t.”
“He had tortured eyes.”
“Yeah…”
“And haunted memories.”
“Mhmm.”
“And that made you all warm and fuzzy.”
“What?”
“I’m not your type, is that the problem?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Max is in no mood to play games. “It’s cause you like what he reminds you of.”
“What do you mean?”
“He inspired you to work on that Tolkien shit again.”
“So…?”
“You like your elves more than me.”
Feta bites her lip.
“I don’t get it… man, I just don’t. I’ve fought in battles, too, you know.”
“I know.”
“I have plenty of deep inner angst.”
“I know.”
“Do I not get enough nightmares?”
“No, you do.”
“So I’m not slashy enough for you?”
“Of course you are.”
“Not incestuous enough, then?”
“Don’t be stupid.”
Max pauses, and then looks at her shrewdly. “Is it because I have two hands?”
Feta is silent.
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