31_days // king of papercuts // Ender's Game
Title: king of papercuts
Theme: overwork
Series: Ender's Game
Rating: G
Type: Drabble
Genre: general, humor
Characters: Peter, Petra [implied PeterPetra]
Word Count: 204
Spoilers: Shadow of the Giant
Disclaimer: I don't own the Ender canon.
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Peter rubbed his eyes. Coffee mugs were belly-dancing-clean white curves jutting out in an unsettling rhythm-as they orbited above his head. For a moment, he wondered if Graff and his minions at that abomination called Battle School had been right when they had labeled him as “unstable.”
Perhaps he was a nut-case. Any second now, he might give in to those sadistic tendencies of his and revert back to the evil within. You know, like start skinning squirrels for fun or something like that.
(He conveniently ignored the memory that persistently reminded him that he had, in fact, tortured Disney-esque wildlife as a child.)
Footsteps neared his desk, putting a halt to the memory’s whines.
“How’s the work coming along?”
Peter looked up to see Petra, and winced at the effort it took to raise his eyes a fraction of an inch.
“Not good,” he muttered. “I’m starting to buy the whole ‘there’s a fine line between genius and insanity’ theory.”
“That’s okay,” Petra said. “We can be insane together.”
Peter blinked.
After a beat, Petra rolled her eyes. “Did you really think that becoming King of the World would exempt you from signing papers?”
Peter let his silence speak for itself.
Theme: overwork
Series: Ender's Game
Rating: G
Type: Drabble
Genre: general, humor
Characters: Peter, Petra [implied PeterPetra]
Word Count: 204
Spoilers: Shadow of the Giant
Disclaimer: I don't own the Ender canon.
-----
Peter rubbed his eyes. Coffee mugs were belly-dancing-clean white curves jutting out in an unsettling rhythm-as they orbited above his head. For a moment, he wondered if Graff and his minions at that abomination called Battle School had been right when they had labeled him as “unstable.”
Perhaps he was a nut-case. Any second now, he might give in to those sadistic tendencies of his and revert back to the evil within. You know, like start skinning squirrels for fun or something like that.
(He conveniently ignored the memory that persistently reminded him that he had, in fact, tortured Disney-esque wildlife as a child.)
Footsteps neared his desk, putting a halt to the memory’s whines.
“How’s the work coming along?”
Peter looked up to see Petra, and winced at the effort it took to raise his eyes a fraction of an inch.
“Not good,” he muttered. “I’m starting to buy the whole ‘there’s a fine line between genius and insanity’ theory.”
“That’s okay,” Petra said. “We can be insane together.”
Peter blinked.
After a beat, Petra rolled her eyes. “Did you really think that becoming King of the World would exempt you from signing papers?”
Peter let his silence speak for itself.