Grief (n.) ￼early 13c., “hardship, suffering, pain, bodily affliction,” from Old French grief "wrong, grievance, injustice, misfortune, calamity" (13c.), from grever "afflict, burden, oppress,“ from Latin gravare "make heavy; cause grief,” from gravis "weighty" (see grave (adj.)). Meaning “mental pain, sorrow” is from c. 1300. Good grief as an exclamation of surprise, dismay, etc., is from 1912.
grave (adj.) ￼1540s, “influential, respected; marked by weighty dignity,” from Middle French grave (Old French greve "terrible, dreadful,“ 14c.), from Latin gravis, “heavy, ponderous, burdensome, loaded; pregnant;” of matters, “weighty, important;” of sounds, “deep, low, bass;” figuratively “oppressive, hard to bear, troublesome, grievous,” from PIE root *gwere- (2) “heavy” (source also of Sanskrit guruh "heavy, weighty, venerable;“ Greek baros "weight," barys "heavy in weight,” often with the notion of “strength, force;” Old English cweorn "quern;“ Gothic kaurus "heavy;” Lettish gruts "heavy”). In English, the sense “solemn, sober” is from 1580s; of immaterial things, “important, serious” 1590s. Greek barys (opposed to kouphos) also was used figuratively, of suffering, sorrow, sobbing, and could mean “oppressive, burdensome, grave, dignified, impressive.” The noun meaning “accent mark over a vowel” is c. 1600, from French.“
See, you can’t fight gravity, nor grief. You can’t fight the terrible weight when it comes upon you.
When the force of attraction pulls you inexorably, each atom straining the fabric of spacetime, pulling you, drawing you together.
The ancients of Greece called this force Eros. What’s more, they ascribed a terrible madness to it. A derrangement of the senses, and yet also what the Situationists called a détournement - a hijacking, a seizure of the prexisting, now twisted and turned to a new purpose.
The Hippies, with their Peace and Love, nonetheless understood this invisible weight:
“That’s Heavy, man.”
Eros brings madness, and implicit within that madness is Strife. It breaks apart constancy, turns one thing into another.
In the thought of Ludwig Klages, this factor gives us the Cosmogonic Eros; that which provides the biocentric (Life-centred) nature of the Kosmos.
It’s also this turning which is seen in the Fragments of Heraclitus, moving the Kosmic Fire through the transitions of the other elements - and is, I believe, behind his cryptic concept of the “upward-downward path” and Diké Eris, or Strife is Justice.
Eros can easily bring us to Grief, each masking the other - which is to say they simultaneously allow each other to manifest in the world, bringing us out of mundane, ordinary consciousness in the original sense of ekstasis; driving one out of one’s mind.
The parallels between Odin and Dionysos are striking here. Both are gods associated with madness, ecstasy and death. Both are noted in relation to wine, with the Old Man subsisting solely on that intoxicant.
Odin is also known variously as Shrieker, Yeller and Roarer, while it’s noted that the term goetia (often misapplied to a particular spirit catalogue) derives from the root goês, which applies to a person who summons spirits of the dead. The latter is believed by Jake Stratton- Kent and other scholars, to derive from göos, or the mourning wail used by professional mourners.
It is perhaps telling that this controlled, deliberate expression of grief has a potency over spirits or daimons, especially when we note both Dionysos and Odin are seen in sone sources as leaders of trains or assemblies of the Dead.
Further, both are known to seize, to fetter the minds of opponents, and liberate others from the same.
For me at least, this is why, despite references to Hel as a goddess associated with grief and heaviness (also indicating a chthonic nature) Odin is also a god intimately bound up with grief. Certainly, he has aided me, as an Odinsman, in my time of grief.
(A/N): Thank you so much for requesting this hope you enjoy! Sorry for my bad writing btw! 😊
Warnings: Major make out sesh, awkwardness
Genre: Very kissy fluff
Summary: Harry and (Y/N) finally get some time alone but nothing lasts forever with Moony and Padfoot wondering about…
It was christmas break, snow was falling from the stary dark sky and you finally escaped the festive family dinner with your boyfriend Harry at your tail; unnoticed by no Weasley nor Order member, or Hermione.
Christmas was your favourite holiday, but it got a little fustrating when someone had a hand constanty gliding to and thro on your thigh and developted a habit of, almost sliently, whispering sugestive things in your ear while you innocsently ate the luscious feast that was presented before you. So as Mrs. Weasley was destracted with stopping Ginny and the twins playing exploding snap at the table, you snuck off, and Harry didn’t need telling twice to follow soon after.
Now you was sliding though the door of Harry’s bedroom at number 12; that he inhabited with Ron during their time here. Just as you took a seat on the head of Harry’s bed, the man himself whisked into the room. Closing the door with a soft click, and almost immediately pouncing onto you like a hungry predator. You, his inviting prey.
“Well hello to you too.” You smirked as a light blush sprinkled onto the specks of the apples of his soft cheeks. “Hi.” He repeated grinning back, though through his circle glasses you could see his perfect emerald eyes glistening with growing lust and need. He wanted to take you right there and then, the days tention caused that, but the foreplay was always enjoyable so he waited on.
“I’ve thinking b'out you…” he whisped huskily, face dragging down towards your ear, “all day.” He finished softly biting the lobe of your ear as you let out a soft, shaky moan.
His hands was postitioned at either side of your head at shoulder hight and his elbows bent to bend down and ghost his lips over your ready, awaiting ones. Not enough. Your hand massaged the back of his skull, engulfed in his silky, messy hair and the other toyed with the hem of his shirt, indacating that the peice of cloth should be removed. At once it was and, finally, Harry firmly pressed his pink, puckered lips into yours as the article of clothing was carelessly thrown across the room.
Next your black, lacy shouldered, top came detached from your beautifully figured body, that Harry took large amounts of time to compliment. Revealing and nice simple, matching black bra that, he noticed, had very intricate lace even in the small amounts contained. That’s a good thing about Harry, he never misses a detail, and always points out even your minor beauties. The texture and softness of your skin was a main minor favourite of his.
As your lips devoured once more into his and more praises was gasped, not one of you noticed the low callings of your names through the breathless moans and gruts that filled the old, traditional room.
Now both only in your undergarments, Harry’s becoming to look too tight to ever be comfortable, you forgot all about building up lovley but torturous tention and made it your main focous to get to the main event…
“Alohomora!” Remus called and he came rushing in, flustered and alert, closley followed by Sirius.
“Harry! (Y/N)! You alright…” Sirius stopped the second he registered the situation, and Remus, looking shocked and cowardly lowered his wand. Then after seeing the up must distraught expression on the young couples faces, now hidden in the fluffy blankets, they both burst into laughter.
“W-wha… Pads! Remus! GET OUT!” Harry bellowed face red with embarressment and fury. You couldn’t help but chuckle and in an instant Harry snapped his neck to you and his mouth flapped open and closed like a fish. “Wha-what the fuck?” He asked feeling betrayal, “It wasn’t just me!”
“Yeah, it takes two to dance (Y/N)!” Sirius laughed clucking his stomach and Remus whipped a small tear away from the corner of his eye, blushing furiously, and trying so hard not to chuckle.
“I just hate how compromising this feels, so I’m just going to go into a ball and live in Russia now. I’ll change my name to Dmitry.” You blushed causing all the men to laugh now.
“Well, I guess we’ll leave you. But remember We don’t want to be grandad Moony and Padfoot yet!” Remus lowly chuckled while grabing Sirius by the arm so he would follow.
“Be safe Dmitry!”
You and Harry was left in an awkward silence after the door was shut. Not daring to face eachother.
After a minute or so of sitting in the shame you turned then opened your mouth to speak, but was cut off by the bellowing, comedic voice that sounded much like all the younger Weasleys’ in sync.
yes I know there are billions of these but I just wanted to write my own
he would always talk about you and you would always talk about him
you two would be very proud of each other
and very protective about one another
your mother wasn’t the best so naturally you are more fond of your dad
You would be home schooled by Tony because he was afraid that he would miss something important. He always wants to be by your side ready to protect you. He doesn’t want to be like his father.
You two would often have a little competition. You would build small robots and then test them, who’s robot passes every test is the winner and the loser has to buy donats.
When you have a bad day he let’s you take his armor and fly away to clear your head , when you come home you would find a note on your bed. The note would usually say how much Tony is proud of you, how much he loves you and so on. Later on he would invite you to eat more donuts with him and he would make you laugh until you were tired.
When he has a bad day you always try to help him with work. Later you call him to the living room to watch or read with you. After you finish a book or a movie you talk about it.
All in all Tony is ready to take the Sun down for you and you are ready to take the moon for him.
Yes I know that it was a little bit cheesy but hey we all love a good cliché
Not sure if the one directly under 12 is supposed to be part of it or if it’s 13 😕. So here’s “a hoarse whisper “kiss me” following the kiss with a series of kisses down the neck”.
“I’ll meet you at your shop in a few hours ok?” Portia asked when the two of them stepped off the carriage. She had asked them earlier that morning if they wanted to go into town while she ran errands. They agreed of course and were pleased to hear that they wouldn’t head back until the next morning. They nodded tiredly and made their way to the shop. Last night was horrible amd they weren’t able to sleep.
No matter what they tried they couldn’t ward off the permanent worry that had settled in their mind. There were only a few days left before the masquerade and they hadn’t found enough evidence to prove that Julian was innocent. It’s not like they thought it would be easy but it’s become increasingly frustrating. It was made all the more frustrating because they couldn’t talk to anyone about how they were feeling.
Portia must have been worried enough considering Julian was her own flesh and blood. So even though they knew she’d offer a supportive shoulder they didn’t wanna worry her anymore than she already was. And it went without saying that they couldn’t talk to him about it. This was his life on the line for a crime he couldn’t even remember if he commited or not. Even with their own missing memories they still couldn’t imagine knowing how it felt to not be sure of your own innocence.
So they made a promise to try and lighten his burden as much as possible. With a tired yawn they unlocked the door to the shop stepping inside. They had just barely set their stuff on the counter when they heard someone step in from the back room. “The fact that I’m not alarmed that you kerp getting in should really concern me.” he laughs as he leans on the counter. “You could always ask how i keep getting in.” “We both know you’d get in no matter what i did.” they look to him and give a slight smile.
“Besides i don’t mind. .” a sudden yawn interrupts them in the middle of their sentence. A concerned look crosses his face as he walks up to them “Are you feeling alright?”. “Oh I’m fine. Just didn’t sleep much is all.” they tell him putting on a reassuring smile. Before he could prod further they started to wak to the back room. “Anyway what brings you here? You usually don’t come around until later.” they asked hoping to distract him.
Unfortunately this didn’t work and he quickly turned around and grabbed their wrist. “Why are you lying?” the worry in his voice makes them bite the corner of their lip “what makes you think I’m lying.”. They wouldn’t look back at him even as he spoke “It’s obvious something’s bothering you. I just don’t understand why you won’t tell me.”. His voice sounded hurt and they felt a lump in their tbroat.
“I said I’m fine.” “And i say you’re not.” they try to pull their wrist free but his grip remains. “Why are you pushing this?” “Because I’m concerned” his voice is low and serious. “When you don’t tell me when something’s wrong i get worried.” that statement is like a slap of cold water to the face. “That’s the exact opposite of what I’m trting to do.” they say through grutted teeth.
The lump in their throat was vrowing and they had to put effort into keeping their voice measured. “How is you not talking to me going to keep me from worrying.” “And how would me unloading my fucking problems on you be any better!.” they snap. They hadn’t noticed the tears that were begining to prick at the corners of their eyes or that their arm was shaking. “Because at least then I’d know ehat was wrong.” his voice sounded pleading and they couldn’t take it anymore.
“You waana know what’s wrong? Fine!” they wrench their arm away and turn around to look directly at him. “What’s wrong is I’m terrified and i can’t do jack shit about it!” they were yelling at this point. “I’m running out of time to fix this mess and it scares me.” their voice is trembling. “You have a proverbial noose around your neck Julian. And in a few dats if i don’t find out what happened that noose becomes literal.” they barely noticed his arms wrap around them.
“And in case it wasn’t already obvious. .” they ritook a deep breath to calm their shaking voice “I don’t want you to die Julian.”. They weren’t sure if it was their imagination but his arms seemed to tighten at that. “I can’t. . you. .” the words get stuck in their throat and all they can do is lightly sob into his coat. They bring a shaky hand up to grasp his shoulder as one of his hands weaved through their hair.
The thought of not having him here was heart wrenching. It made it hard to breathe and their veins felt like they were filled with ice. That’s why they were trying so hard to help him, they couldn’t just sit back and let him die. “What can i do?” he asks after they’ve had a chance to calm down. They shift their head so they can look him directly in the eye. The hand on his shoulder reached up to cup his face and they ran their thumb over his cheek.
“Kiss me.” their voice was nothing more than a hoarse whisper. His lips break into a small smile as he leans forward to bring them to theirs. It starts off soft and comforting but quickly becomes something filled with raw emotion. The hand they hand on his cheek tangles itself in his hair while the other grasps the back of his neck. He had one hand over the small of their back as the other was holding the back of their head pressing them closer.
They could barely think straight and that’s how they wanted it. They didn’t want to think about about all the things that could happen. Instead they wanted to focus on how they felt about about this man and how his lips felt against theirs. The two of them broke apart panting with flushed cheeks and hearts hammering in their chests. Before they could blink he leaned forward and began to trail feather light kisses down their neck.
The feeling made them let out a content sigh as they craned their neck. “I love you.” they say after he rests his head in the crook of their neck. He lifts his head up and leans it against theirs “I love you to. We’ll figure this out.”. They were incredibly happy to hear those words. Even though they were still worried having someone they loved so much with them made the load feel so much lighter.
Sam was in a mood. Anyone could tell. The door however, got the worst of it. The heavy, thick wood smashed harshly into the denting wall. Dean, who was innocently reading the back of a newspaper, jumped miles from his seat as he placed his broad hand on his thumping heart. He turned his head cautiously towards the 6,4ft giant who towered his way into the motel room.
Dean’s forest, green eyes rolled over his brothers features, collecting details that would be the decider of whether it was safe to talk to his brother or not. Dean spotted his red, flushed face. His cheeks were hollowed in, sunken more than they normally were- he was biting his gums. His lip had splotches of dark red patterned into the soft, baby pink that showed how much his teeth had burrowed into the tender flesh. Sam never bit his lip, when he did he was normally trying to bite back cursed words. His fingers clenched and unclenched around his palm, nails digging slightly into the abused flesh. His back was strained against his plaid shirt.
“Take it the date didn’t go well?”.
Dean worded it as if he was only teasing, but his voice was soft and soothing, concerned for his brother. Sam paused in place, his angered expression dropped to one of humiliation and shame. He shrugged, tucking back the long slightly waved lock behind his ear before bracing his large palms on the chairs back.
“She stood me up’‘he shrugged, trying his best not to care. Dean knew he did care. Anyone who so desperately craved love like Sam did, would definitely care. Anyone like Sam would also overthink this, think that they just weren’t lovable enough or that they really were a bad person. It was a shame that his self esteem remained shockingly low.
’'Ah, you don’t need her. Not like you could have stayed anyway, Sammy’'His voice softened as he tried to convince his brother it was for the best anyway. Sam nodded, the distant look in his hazel orbs highlighting to his brother that he was already taking the blame.
Sam’s shoulders slumped, he shifted moodily to his room as he let his mind take over him.
Why did you stand him up?
Sam really thought you were into him. He saw the signs, in fact, you made them clearer than day with the nervous stutter and the red cheeks, the way you were so shocked when he asked you out that you didn’t reply for what felt like a year. Maybe he was just getting his hopes to high. So desperate for someone to love him that he saw signs in anyone he found attractive and sweet.
The tall hunter decided to put away his feelings as he laid on his bed and hoped for sleep to come easily. You couldn’t think when you were sleeping. You couldn’t hurt when you were sleeping.
Crashes filled your ears, the pounding of metal against metal and the horrid, unearthly screech that left shivers dancing up and down your burned spine. Your wrists throbbed, your pulse uncomfortably beating against the thickly bound rope that held you captive. Blood trickled somewhere, you didn’t know where it was stemming from, it was everywhere. Crimson painted nose, crimson painted cheek… crimson surrounded you, unfortunately, it was yours.
He paced back and fourth, the man you saw before. The man you described to Sam.
You closed your eyes, a whimper leaving the tape that gagged your mouth shut but still the whimper floated away with ease and you were envious of all the free things in life. You were supposed to meet him for a date, next thing you know, darkness. You couldn’t even begin to explain what happened but you were guessing it was to do with those string of murders.
You hoped Sam would be your night in shining armour and rescue you, but this wasn’t a fantasy and you weren’t a character in a happy ending movie. This was reality. And reality sucked.
’'Now, now. Don’t get tired, pretty. They’ll be here soon, just wait till they heard what I’ve caught’'He snickered. You whimpered, thrashing away from his nails that raked down your tender cheek. Your head dropped, crown bowing as if you were giving in. You think you are. You’re not sure what’s happening, you feel like your dying.
Dean phone vibarted against the oak wood, the wood creaking in response as Dean shifted his heavy boots and picked up the buzzing phone that tried to tumble out of his grasp.
’'Hello?’'Dean answered, pulling back for a second to look at the ID before frowning at it’s ‘Unknown Caller’.
Dean cringed at the screechy voice, the sharp hiss it elicited. He knew who it was. His face fell, a pissed expression falling into place as he sat up, hand subconsciously twitching near his gun. His guard was up even though it did not mean to be.
Dean lost colour in his face as the next words were thrown about lazily. He ended the call, tall, lean body standing up and grabbing a startled and tired Sam from his slumber. Sam’s legs stumbled clumsily, willingly following his brother as he found himself being shoved in the Impala.
“Wh-Dean?’'Sam yawned, sleepy eyes blinking to push out any sleep that glued his eyes tight shut. ’'What’s going on?’'He mumbled, pressing the heel of his palm into his eye as he ground down. He blinked hastily before looking over at his brother who had his hands fit tightly on the steering wheel.
’'Remember that chick?’'Dean asked quickly, face snapping to his brother and the road so quickly Sam thought it might just snap right there and then. Sam’s mood fell somber as he grutted out a grunt in response. ’'Well she didn’t stand you up”
Sam snapped his head towards his brother as he stared with narrowed eyes, confusion mixing into his features. “How do yo-”