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Sophomore. In a string of garbled etymology, sophomore quite literally means "arguer." Which is fun, since many argue- in a similarly dull etymological sort of way- that it is the combination of "wise" and "foolish." Either way you swing on the grammatical pendulum of the supposedly patchy english language, sophomore is, at its roots, paradoxical.
"Lance, watch out!"
The desperate phrase was shouted too late for anything but an easy conscience. Just as the brunette turned, gun held firmly, his sharp gaze piercing through his bayard's sights- the laser had struck it's target.
His scream pierced through the battlefield at a sharp-enough tone to cause a sort of hiccup for those closest.
Keith will reflect on his flinch in the late hours of certain nights when sleep is most desired but least companionable to his traumatized thoughts. He'll consider it an act of weakness or betrayal, to look away from a fellow soldier in such pain. Similarly, he'll consider it a natural response. He'll choose, however hesitantly, to settle on listening to the little voice that argues the entire scenario to be unimportant in the first place in favor of what happened next.
Because it wasn't just a weapon. It was the conception of a paradox.
(The rest of the fic is on AO3 here: archiveofourown.org/works/1341… )

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Description

Sophomore. In a string of garbled etymology, sophomore quite literally means "arguer." Which is fun, since many argue- in a similarly dull etymological sort of way- that it is the combination of "wise" and "foolish." Either way you swing on the grammatical pendulum of the supposedly patchy english language, sophomore is, at its roots, paradoxical.
"Lance, watch out!"
The desperate phrase was shouted too late for anything but an easy conscience. Just as the brunette turned, gun held firmly, his sharp gaze piercing through his bayard's sights- the laser had struck it's target.
His scream pierced through the battlefield at a sharp-enough tone to cause a sort of hiccup for those closest.
Keith will reflect on his flinch in the late hours of certain nights when sleep is most desired but least companionable to his traumatized thoughts. He'll consider it an act of weakness or betrayal, to look away from a fellow soldier in such pain. Similarly, he'll consider it a natural response. He'll choose, however hesitantly, to settle on listening to the little voice that argues the entire scenario to be unimportant in the first place in favor of what happened next.
Because it wasn't just a weapon. It was the conception of a paradox.
(The rest of the fic is on AO3 here: archiveofourown.org/works/1341… )

- TUMBLR - Instagram - Twitter - YouTube - Patreon - Buy me Coffee? - Society6 - RedBubble -