Well, I thought my plot bunnies were working on a prompt for @glorfindelsbitch from that word list thing I posted yesterday, but it turns out I looked at the wrong word. So… you all get a bonus Russingon fic.
lalochezia - noun. Emotional relief gained by using indecent or vulgar language.
Note: No, I don’t think Fingon would actually swear like this, but I will admit it was kinda fun to write.
It happened again. It
had happened so many times already, it seemed, each exchange more heated than
the last. But Fingon could never stop
himself from asking. Even though he knew
Maedhros’ answer would not change, even though he knew his cousin’s
stubbornness would continue to frustrate him, this was not something Fingon
could let go. And now, as Maedhros again
refused to listen to reason, Fingon found himself completely fed up.
“We can’t,” Maedhros insisted, an edge of weariness upon his
voice, as if he had grown tired of repeating himself. “You know we can’t.”
Send me a word and I will write a drabble with our characters: Lalochezia - The use of abusive language to relieve stress or ease pain.
“You are an imbecile,” Eloise took a step towards the young man, anger radiating from every inch of her body. “No beyond that. A trained lifeguard who can’t even properly swim without drowning himself. You’re pathetic and fickle and not worth the attention, let alone the affection of my son!”
The use of abusive language to relieve stress or ease pain. - Devon
the cruelest word William had ever used. The cruelest thing he’d ever called
Devon. And he’d paid with a long scar on his chest. Devon had paid as well; the
ugly mark on his right hand reminding him of this night until his dying day.
never used a word like this before – or afterwards. And while Devon usually
wasn’t able to understand references and allusions, he had understood this one.
understood that day that words were sharper than scalpels. Sharper than glass
sharps from a broken Erlenmeyer flask cutting through flesh. This one word hat
hurt more than the punch William had given him on a different occasion. It had
been more upsetting than the barrel of a gun aimed at his head.
always been foreign territory for Devon. Mysterious and strange. Intimidating
he admired Lennart’s and William’s eloquence.
thousands on a platform or in an interview, answering with just the right words.
Encouraging legions of subordinates with speeches. And sometimes simply to
express anger and stress. All of this filled Devon with envy and awe.
he wondered how it must feel to have always the right word on the tip of one’s
cursed a lot. And it seemed to be so relieving.
He cursed and swore during intimate moments. When he cut or hurt himself
accidentally. He cursed and swore when he was upset and angry or felt provoked.
curse. Had never learnt. Never tried.
felt the rage boiling inside him, he found himself speechless.
was furious or desperate, whenever he found himself in an argument with William
– the only man daring enough to argue with Devon, at all – he found himself at a
loss of words.
know how to argue. He didn’t know how to fight with words. It was always an
unequal struggle. It was frustrating. It was embarrassing. It was inacceptable.
had to oppose and set against William’s words, his insolence and disobediences,
his rudeness and powerful words were feeble attempts of verbal answers. Gasping
for air like a grounded fish as he tried to find the right words. Or words, at
matched his rage. Words that matched the red heat boiling inside him.
had in moments like these were clenched fists and a clenched jaw, restless
pacing and a forceful trembling that shook his entire body.
All he had
Devon when he was at loss of words was violence.
else matched the turmoil and desperation, the fury and wrath that were larger
than him, too large for words or phrases. Just as red and hot and burning, violence
was the only way to release the overwhelming tension. Nothing else made sure
that his opponent felt the same despair and anger Devon felt. The same pain.
The same speechlessness.
people had words, Devon had his tantrums.
people could argue, Devon could cut open skin.
matter that he was physically weaker and shorter than William, a fact that was
as upsetting as it was undeniable, but he had scalpels and shards, had his fury
that bordered on madness to make up for physical weakness. Devon could fight
like a mad man, unchecked and fearless and unable to feel pain in his rage.
Without hesitation. Without the inhibiting effects of shame and morals and
regret slowing him down.
effective. It was satisfying.
need words to defend himself.
need words to relieve pain or express anger.
people had words, Devon had a scalpel.