lalochezia

lalochezia
—  (noun) In our list of interesting words, lalochezia is the state of emotional relief one achieves from using vulgar language. This satisfying feeling accompanied with the act of telling someone to f— off is a great stress relief. If somebody accuses you of having a potty mouth, counteract their unimaginative insult by explaining that copious amounts of lalochezia is helping you from punching them in the face. A little humor and intelligence always goes a long way.

kookoo-nut  asked:

Lalochezia for pearlmeth or Anagapesis for bubbline

Dear entity under the name of Kookoonut: I’m totally hijacking your request because I want to.

For the Pearlmeth we’re going with: 

Tarantism - The urge to overcome melancholy by dancing.


Chill Pill / Cheer Up, Dude! (Tarantism,Pearlmeth)


Where Amethyst sinks, Pearl floats. If Amethyst needed, say, a screwdriver, Pearl would probably pirouette to the table and pick up the screwdriver, pose with the screwdriver, and leap back to Amethyst, ending en pointe holding the screwdriver between forefinger and thumb, despite the fact that Amethyst is smaller than her.

In short, keeping up with Pearl’s eternal life’s-a-stage routine can be tiring. Amethyst likes it well enough these days, now that Pearl’s running performance is no longer the whole “woe is me left with the wee babe of my dearest departed beloved.” It’s nice to see Pearl stepping back from the whole melodrama of her life. It gives Amethyst space to breathe.

“How long are you guys going to have me watch the Peridorito?" 

Amethyst splits guard duty with Steven; Peridot’s entertaining but also exhausting.

"I thought the two of you were getting along swimmingly,” Pearl says in reply.

“You wanna try watching Camp Pining Hearts with her?”

“I thought you liked TV shows? What about showing her Little Butler?”

“I don’t need her to wreck all the fun out of that show with, like, subtext or whatever she’s calling it. Sometimes a show’s just fun to watch.”

Pearl hums in reply, staring out of the sunset. It’s been a while since they’ve just stared at something, together. They once tried to watch paint dry in an attempt to understand the human saying, but that ended up with Amethyst’s handprints all over the house Vidalia was painting.

In no time at all Pearl gets fidgety. She can’t just stand up, either: she has to stand up and stretch, and she has to stretch as though she’s getting ready for some ballet performance.

“You just gotta dance all the time, don’t ya, Pearl,” Amethyst says, lulled into speaking her words out loud by the wind blowing past them.

It’s nice and cold and the sun’s setting and the world might be ending and everyone’s going on, not panicking because they don’t know there are aliens in their planet’s core (and even on their crust).

“It’s very soothing,” Pearl says in defense. “It keeps my reflexes sharp,” she adds. Amethyst knows Pearl well enough to know what will come next: “you should do it more often, it will help you with your formlessness.”

“No thanks,” Amethyst mutters. “So you still got a problem with how I dance?”

“No, I didn’t mean that,” Pearl says, looking contrite for a change. “I just… never mind what I meant. We dance well enough these days,” Pearl says.

Oh yeah. Opal. That was good. Amethyst still remembers how perfect their timing was, how they ended up in the right position without thinking about it at all.

“I may have picked up a few moves from you,” Amethyst says. In her defense, it’s because Pearl’s always dancing. You’d have to be blind not to notice.

“Want to practice?” Pearl asks.

“Fine,” Amethyst mutters, trying not to blush.

It begins with a bow. 

She still remembers Pearl teaching her fusion.

Their frequencies align, visible in the light emanating in their gems, pulsing. It feels as though she’s putting her heart right there in the open, ripped out of her body, until she remembers: you’re practicing, idiot.

And also, you don’t have a heart.

She shakes her butt, but twirls in consideration of Pearl’s own dance, deepening the transfer of energy between them. It hums around, the frequencies harmonizing, and even Amethyst can’t deny how good they sound, her low frequencies with Pearl’s tinkling music. Pearl does her fancy leap, and they meet in the middle for Amethyst to pull Pearl to her in a dip.

Pearl bends all the way. It hits Amethyst then, how exposed Pearl’s neck is, pale white but for the red reflecting off her, the light of the dying sun. Pearl’s eyes are closed – maybe she’s enjoying this as much as you are. Maybe she could even kiss Pearl. Her thumb brushes against the nape of Pearl’s neck, in full, jittery awareness that she could lift Pearl’s head up to meet hers. She is no less aware of how soft Pearl’s hair is, or the definition of Pearl’s jaw.

They very nearly fuse, but Amethyst disconnects before their minds merge, not wanting Pearl to know this secret about her just yet (or ever). She lifts Pearl up to let Pearl stand on her own.

“Why didn’t you continue the fusion?” Pearl asks.

“I thought you just wanted to practice,” Amethyst mutters. “We only fuse for dangerous situations, remember?”

They go back to sitting. “Ugh,” Pearl mutters. “I’m sorry about that.”

“I love hearing you apologize. This has to be… the fifth time now? Do it again.”

“I’m sorry,” Pearl says, her features silent. Usually with Pearl it’s easy to read her, when she’s distressed, or in need of attention, or angry, but there are times when she’s like this, too.

“We’re cool, P,” Amethyst says, “Aren’t we?”

“We are,” Pearl says. The upwards tilt of her mouth is barely a reassurance to Amethyst, knowing that their past is half Pearl’s fault, and half hers.

How can she possibly tell Pearl that she likes her? And how can that even be true, when half the time she wants to shake Pearl for being so dramatic… but there are other times where she likes it?

Pearl edges her hand next to Amethyst, before settling in to hold it. “This alright?” Pearl asks.

“Yeah.” Amethyst could melt, which is stupid, because just a few moments before she was the one holding Pearl. This isn’t any different, she tries to tell herself, as she can feel the faint warmth of Pearl’s fingers, the gentle smudge of Pearl’s thumb across Amethyst’s hand.

“When I dance,” Pearl says, unable to shake off the topic, “it feels like I’m living in the moment. Like you’re making the most out of something. It sort of came to me, that I’d try to live as much as I could, because back then nothing was certain.”

“Quit bein’ so sad, P,” Amethyst says. It’s a bad way to cheer Pearl up, but Amethyst can’t help herself.

“Sorry.”

And now Amethyst feels bad, and is out of words to say anything. She squeezes Pearl’s hand. “I’m right here, y'know? Well, I mean, we’re right here.”

“Thanks,” Pearl says. Pearl holds their hands on her lap, stroking Amethyst’s. “You really are the one good thing that came out of that mess,” she says. Swiftly, before Amethyst has time to register it, Pearl kisses Amethyst’s knuckles, before letting go and muttering something about dinner.

What the hell was that all about, Amethyst wonders, at the same time she wonders if that means she can kiss Pearl now.

Well, probably not, but she can dream.

Lalochezia || Boone and Eloise

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!”

{ sacrificialboone }