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buckysrighthanddoll · 4 years ago

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Gluttony

Pairing: Peter Parker x Reader (college AU)

Warnings: drinking, fluff, a teensy bit of angst (y’all know it’s me lol), swearing

A.N.: This is part two of my Seven Deadly Sins series!!! Read part one here called “Envy” with Bucky Barnes :)

You were never the drinking type. Throughout high school, you maybe had three drinks. It wasn’t that you were consumed with your bookwork or couldn’t sneak out to parties. You had plenty of opportunities.

It was now the third year of college. You were well on your way to your degree, you had an established friend group, and you had a decent enough social life. But when MJ invited you to a party this Friday, you found yourself feeling nervous.

There were a few parties in college that you attended. Every time you got uncomfortable and left early. Every time you stood in the corner with one or two of your friends from class. Every time you were home by midnight.

This time was different.

“MJ, you know--”

“That you’re a lame-ass who won’t hang out with some friends?” MJ interjected. “Come on, (Y/N), it’s just us. Even Ned is gonna be there.” Before you could even respond, she spoke again. “Peter said he’d be there.”

That caught your attention. You contemplated the decision in your head--the party was this Friday, which gave you today to prepare; however, you had a test at 10:00 am on Saturday.

“Fine. You said it was at your apartment, right?”

“Yes. Be there at 10 to help me set up,” MJ smiled, pivoting on her feet and heading to her next class. You sighed and gave a half-smile at her.

MJ knew damn well that you had a thing for Peter. And, beyond that, she insisted that he liked you, too. It was a load of bullshit, but she wouldn’t change her mind.

Finishing your classes for the day was easy. Today was Thursday, which meant you had Art appreciation, Spanish 312, and organic chemistry. That night, you set up your studying supplies and got to work.

Within an hour, you lost focus. You kept worrying about that damn party, but you logically knew that you didn’t need to. It was a few friends. Peter, Ned, MJ, and her boyfriend Mark were the only people that were supposed to be there. They were all people that you knew and trusted. As long as you didn’t drink, you’d be fine.

“Hey (Y/N/N),” Peter said, making you jump. He laughs, which immediately eases your anxieties. “Didn’t mean to scare you.”

“I left my door unlocked again, didn’t I?” You asked, standing from your desk. He nods his head and sits on the chair by the kitchen counter. “You want something to drink?”

“Water, please,” He responds. He was always so polite, even though you’d known him since sophomore year of high school. The two of you knew everything about each other. He knew about your past traumas and experiences; you knew that he was Spider-Man.

Ya know, the usual.

You got the glass of water and threw a couple of personal pan pizzas in the oven. “I thought you were gonna study for the test on Saturday.”

“I got bored,” Peter shrugs. You sit next to him and rest your arm on the counter. “Figured I’d come to see my favorite girl,” He smiles. He gives one of those small smirks that he (recently) found to drive girls mad, but you simply raise your eyebrow.

“She’s probably in my room.”

At the perfect moment, a fuzzy black cat prances into the kitchen. Her name was Razzle, Razz for short, and she was the cutest damn cat to grace your existence. Peter adored her. There were times when you’d come home from class and see him playing with her on the floor. There were times when Peter would stay the night, and you’d wake up to see a fuzzy black ball on his chest. The scene was so cute that you took a picture (which may or may not be your lock screen, shh).

Razz jumps into Peter’s lap and immediately starts purring. His smile gets even bigger, and he scratches under the cat’s chin (the sight alone makes your heart soar).

“You wanna watch a movie?” Peter asks.

The oven dings, making you stand up to get the pizza. “As long as we can go over the vocab for the test afterward.” Peter groans, but you know that it’s sarcastic. “Deal.”

Peter goes to the living room area and turns on a random movie. You place the pizzas on paper plates and carry them out to where he’s sitting on the couch, his feet propped up onto the table. At least he had his socks on.

Thirty minutes into the movie, you weren’t paying attention anymore. All you could focus on was the way the screen lit Peter’s face; the way his eyes followed every action; the way his body jerked during a fight scene; the way his lips looked so soft and kissable and--

“Is there something on my face?” Peter asked. You snapped your gaze to the empty plate ahead of you. That’s one thing that you loved about Peter--besides his improved spidey-senses, he (sort of) grew out of his awkwardness.

“No, uh, I got lost in thought,” You lied. You grabbed his empty plate and took it to the kitchen to throw in the garbage. Taking a second to collect yourself, you went back to the couch. You scoffed at Peter, who was under a blanket and taking all three spots. “You’re such a dipshit.”

“But I’m your dipshit,” Peter retorted. You rolled your eyes as he sat up, allowing you to sit where his head just was. You plopped yourself down, and Peter rested his head on your lap, lying on his side to still face the TV.

Peter fell asleep twenty minutes later. Your hand was in his hair, softly playing with his curls, and soon enough, the soft snores ensued.

You stayed there for several moments after the movie ended. It was easy to bypass the credits rolling on the screen, especially when Peter was right there. Head in your lap. An arm draped across your thighs. You could see yourself doing this every weekend with him--waking him up, getting to the bedroom, holding each other until the early morning.

It was stupid how much you loved him. He was your best friend throughout high school and college. He was with you through every smile and tear. It was just impossible for you not to harbor anything more than a friendship.

Once the title screen popped back on, you shook Peter awake. He hums groggily and opens his eyes. As he realizes that he fell asleep on your lap, he goes red in the face and sits up.

“I didn’t realize I was even tired,” He says, letting out a breathy laugh. “I’m sorry. I, uh, I gotta get home, though. We have an 8 am tomorrow.” Peter gets up from the couch and makes his way toward the door.

“Yeah, yeah,” You said, standing up and following him. “Goodnight. Be safe, love you,” You added, hugging him.

“‘Night (Y/N/N), love you, too,” Peter responded. He left, and you took that as your cue to get to sleep.

Your classes breezed by the next day. You and Peter’s 8 am class was spent reviewing material for tomorrow’s test, and your ten am consisted of you being a TA for your Spanish professor. She just had you look through papers while she taught about the subjunctive tense.

At your apartment, you texted MJ to ask what you should wear. She arrived twenty minutes later and immediately began searching through your closet. She explained that it was still casual since it was just a few friends, but your usual plain t-shirts and jeans weren’t going to cut it.

MJ picked a tight-fitting shirt with a v-neck. She said that it made you look insanely attractive, especially when paired with the (extremely short) denim shorts that you hardly ever wore.

You decided just to straighten your hair and do basic makeup. It consisted of only eyebrows, eyeliner, and mascara; it was a bit more than your daily makeup, but if you were going to a party, you didn’t want to mess it up.

After getting dinner, you and MJ went to her apartment and began setting up. There was a beer pong table, food set out on another table, and all of the alcohol she could afford on a third table. You put a playlist on her TV screen and then put the remote behind it. It was all said and done within an hour.

You turned on the strip lights right as Mark got there. He greeted his girlfriend with a short kiss, and then he came and hugged you. Mark was a sweet guy; he treated MJ right, and he was great at communication, plus he made an effort to be friends with her friends.

Ned showed up half an hour later, and Peter was right behind him. You already had three shots, but they hadn’t kicked in yet; it was probably for the best because all you could think when you saw him was damn.

He wore a dark grey v-neck shirt and dark denim jeans. He looked like he had just gotten out of the shower shortly before leaving, as his hair was still slightly damp. MJ had to hip check you to pull your attention back to the conversation.

“You need to tell him eventually,” She starts. “I mean, he totally has it bad for you, too.”

“Bullshit,” You sang. “He’s my best friend, besides you. That’s it.” You looked at the table and picked up the peppermint schnapps. “Another shot?”

“Using liquor as a negative coping mechanism. Same,” MJ nodded, smiling as she grabbed the shot glasses. “Competitive?”

“Bet,” You answered, pulling out a five from your pocket. She threw down an additional five and called Mark over to call it so that it wasn’t biased.

You both set the shot glasses on the counter and got ready. Mark slapped the table, and you and MJ threw the glasses back and slammed them back down. You won by a fraction of a second, making you throw your arms up.

“Didn’t think you were a drinker, (Y/L/N),” MJ laughed.

“I’m not,” You smirked. You grabbed the money and put it in your pocket, lining up another shot and downing that one too. “But distractions are distractions.”

“You really need a therapist,” Ned laughed.

Within an hour, you were blasted. Although you’d been slightly tipsy before, you’d never been full-on drunk before. MJ was right there with you, Mark was somewhat behind, and Ned was tipsy. Peter, who had slowly been sipping on his drink, was hardly beyond sober.

The five of you were playing Cards Against Humanity in the living room. MJ had the lead, but that didn’t shock anybody; she was declared the friend group’s funniest. You were near behind, though, which was shocking only because you’d thought Ned should be in your position.

It wasn’t like it mattered to you. All that mattered was that you and Peter sat next to each other, thighs pressed to one another, and his arm was resting on the couch cushions behind your head. If you thought that dealing with your emotions was hard when you were sober, then you were in a world of trouble when it came to you being drunk (and him being this close).

Gluttony was not your usual sin. Indulging in vices like drinking wasn’t typical of you. On any other day, you’d throw yourself into your studies, or maybe you’d be planning your study abroad that was coming up. But drinking? That was out of the ordinary.

Tonight was different. You wanted to let loose--to forget about your emotions. But that wasn’t happening, now was it?

After your game was up, you partied some more. You expected to forget about your emotions; instead, you found yourself forgetting how to care about preserving them. A few shots here, some dancing there, and you were more carefree than you had been in years.

Around three in the morning, you were tired. More than that, you had to be up at eight to get ready for your test at ten. You found yourself stumbling to get your things together so you could walk home, but Mark was trying to stop you.

“(Y/N), it’s past midnight in a college city, and you’re as drunk as a skunk. Just stay here,” Mark tried. MJ was right behind him and insisting that you at least call a taxi or an Uber.

“I’ll be fine,” You assured, nearly falling over as you slipped your shoes on. Peter, thankfully, catches and steadies you. He keeps an arm around your waist, which makes your already reddened face burn even hotter.

“I’ll take her home. I’m sober,” Peter says, looking at MJ. “Besides, we both have a test in seven hours--I need the sleep.”

“Drive safe, man,” Mark says, pulling Peter in for a hug. Peter gives MJ and Ned a hug, and then he’s by your side, leading you to his car.

It was a short and silent drive. Thank gods. You weren’t in any state to be talking to someone who you’ve harbored romantic feelings for.

Peter took you inside your apartment. The moment the door shut behind him, he locked it and got to your bedroom. He picked out some sleep shorts and an old shirt for you to sleep in, and he left you to change while he grabbed some water for you.

You sat in bed as he walked back into the room, setting the glass on your nightstand.

“You’re too nice,” You whined. “Aren’t guys supposed to be assholes or something?”

“I’m the friendly neighborhood Spider-Man--I’m not quite like most guys.” Peter smiles and lifts the covers, letting you get under them. Once you’re laid back, you take a sip of your water, and he closes the windows and curtains. He comes back to pull the blankets over your chest. Then, he starts to leave.

“Peter, can you stay the night here?” You asked. He turns to you and gives one of the softest smiles you’d ever seen (maybe it was just the rose-tinted glasses, or perhaps it was the staggering amount of alcohol in your blood). Nodding his head, he gets in on the other side of the bed.

Peter had stayed the night here plenty of times, but he always slept on the pull-out couch in the living room. He never once stayed in your bed with you also in it. You figured it was either out of concern for boundaries or respect.

The truth was, Peter was also head-over-heels for you. He’d told MJ, not that he needed to--MJ was good at reading people, and he certainly wasn’t subtle about his attraction for you.

You were the first person he came to when he became Spider-Man. You were his reason to fight after he got dusted (along with you). You were his favorite person to see after a mission--you’d been at the tower anytime Tony Stark told you that Peter was coming home. You were always there for him. You were it. You were the one that Peter wanted to be with, even if it didn’t work out in the long run.

Once Peter settled into the sheets, you rolled over and cuddled into him. Your head rested on his chest, an arm around his torso, and a leg tangled with his own. Both of you heaved a sigh of relief; this felt good. This felt right.

“Peter?” You asked.

“Yeah?” He responded.

“I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

“No, like, I love you,” You confessed, looking up at him through heavy eyelids. “Like, I wanna kiss you and cuddle you like this and hold your hand. I wanna tell people that I’m your girlfriend, and you’re my boyfriend.”

“Baby, you’re drunk.”

“I’ve been hiding this for years, Peter,” You insisted. “It isn’t because I’m drunk. The only thing this liquor is doing is helping me say what I want to say without worrying.”

“If I’m honest, (Y/N), I love you, too. In that same way. But you’re not even going to remember this in the morning.”

“Will you remind me?”

“Yes.”

“Can I kiss you?”

“Not when you’re drunk.”

“Damn,” You sighed. “Did you set an alarm for the morning?”

“I already have one set,” Peter assured you. “Let’s get to sleep.”

“And Peter?” You called. “Thank you for taking care of me.” He hummed in response.

The next morning, you were shocked that you only had a small headache. You were even more surprised that you woke up next to Peter.

Last night was fuzzy for you. Bits and pieces were clear as day, like winning thirty bucks from MJ. But what happened? Was Peter as drunk as you were? Did you say something stupid? Why was he in your bed right now?

No matter the reason, you found yourself not wanting to leave this spot. You were the closest you’d been to Peter.

The alarm on Peter’s phone rang, making you jump. Then, you grabbed your aching head. Peter awoke with a start before looking down at you. He shut the ringtone off, and then he wrapped his arms tighter around you. His hand ran up and down your arm, which made you feel happy and warm, but why the hell was he holding you like this?

“Good morning,” Peter said groggily. His morning voice was hands-down, the most beautiful thing ever.

“‘Morning,” You responded.

“Want me to put some coffee on for that hangover?” He asked.

“I’m not that hungover, actually,” You answered. “I can go make some.”

Peter nodded his head, so you got up. Three scoops into the filter, some hot water, and a few minutes later, you both had cups of bitter coffee to wake you up. You both started to get ready for the day by brushing your teeth and putting on some new clothes (Peter had to find some clothes that he’d left here last month).

It was going to be a casual and laid-back day; that much was certain. Your body was aching, and your head only started to worsen even after taking some ibuprofen. There were still thirty minutes before you needed to leave for the campus, so you and Peter sat on the couch.

“Did I say anything stupid last night?” You asked, holding onto your mug.

“Only that you loved me and wanted to kiss me,” He smirked.

You groaned and threw your head back. “I’m sorry,” You started, looking him in the eye. “I shouldn’t have said that while I was drunk.”

“Did you not mean it?”

“Of course I meant it,” You said, laughing drily. “Peter, in the seven years we’ve known each other, I’ve felt like this for six of them. I just shouldn’t have told you while I was drunk.”

“Last night, I said that I loved you, too,” Peter said. “And then you asked if you could kiss me, but I wasn’t going to let you do anything in that state.”

“Oh,” You muttered, looking down in embarrassment and setting down your coffee. Peter’s lifted your chin and then cupped your face before leaning in and kissing you. The initial shock wore off quickly, and then you were kissing him back. It was soft and sweet--precisely what you’d have expected your first kiss with him to be like.

When Peter pulled away, he rested his forehead against yours. “You wanted me to remind you when you were sober. Was that okay?”

“More than,” You smiled. You closed the distance again, tangling your hands in his hair. Peter smiles against you.

After the test, Peter took you on your first official date as a couple. He held your hand and bought you a coffee, and you carried a conversation like everything was natural. Like everything was right.

(And, for the record, you passed that exam despite the light hangover).

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professordrarry · 6 years ago

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Prompt: there’s more to a seeker than seeking

I freaking LOVED this prompt. Can I possibly use the sentence again sometime? When I’m in a less…silly mood? For now I hope you enjoy this random little minute of Draco being Draco.

Lucius was very soon going to cause Harry to become defensive. They’d been standing on Harry’s lawn for approximately twenty-five minutes, in an utter stalemate, and Harry’s patience was long since gone.

“I fail to see how that is the point,” Lucius said for the umpteenth time.

“Well, aren’t you lucky that I’m not dating you!” Harry replied, edged tone finally unleashing itself over the continual berating.

Lucius’ eyebrow lifted in a way that was nothing at all like his son’s; he had none of the warmth and humour that came from Narcissa. Instead of being sexy and mysterious, or wry and mocking, Lucius’ eyebrow attempted to judge your soul from where it stood and always found you wanting.

“I will remind you,” he said cooly, “That right now, Mr Potter, you are dating no one.”

Harry took a deep breath. They’d been over this.

“I am very much aware of that, Malfoy,” he growled. “And that will remain the case until Draco apologises.”

“Then you’ve lost him,” Lucius sighed.

“And why do you care!” Harry shouted, throwing his hands into the quickly darkening sky and begging anyone, everyone, for a bloody answer. “Last I checked, you weren’t exactly a fan of Draco dating a man.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Lucius clipped, the ice in his voice chilling Harry even though the night was warm. “I do not care that my son is gay. I rather more think that my issue is with who he has chosen to…bed.”

There was so much malice in his tone now that Harry, against his will, burst out laughing; Lucius really had not adapted well to the fact that all his little rancourous vocal tricks held absolutely no power now.

“If that were true,” Harry shot back, “you would not be standing here, outside my house at eight in the evening, refusing to leave.”

They squared off again, neither willing to bend or readjust or back down. Finally, Lucius took a deep breath and sighed, scrubbing his forehead.

“Potter. Draco, as you know, is…well, not proud. That’s not the right word. I would say more…obstinate than anything. Always has been. Cannot admit his own failings. It has been a problem since his childhood.”

“In case you’ve not realised it, that little trait definitely comes from your bloodline, Lucius.”

The faintest wisp of a smile crossed Malfoy’s face. “I know it,” he said, a tinge of pride behind the words. “Nonetheless, he sometimes forgets to be obstinate with a cause. As is the case now.”

“Yes, well. I’ve been known to be a bit obstinate as well.”

“Indeed,” Lucius said with that same small smile. “But I’d think a star Quidditch player such as yourself would be better at playing the game.”

Harry looked at him angrily. He had no idea what Malfoy was on about and he did not like that feeling.

“What, pray tell, does one do once they are holding the golden snitch?” He waited for a reply and finally, Harry sighed in defeat and shrugged.

“One holds onto it for dear life, until the Officiant or Score Keeper has seen it and the game is won.”

Harry sighed again, at the point of really just wanting this conversation over. “I don’t…what are you on about. Get to the point.”

“The point, young man,” Lucius simpered, “is that there is more to being a Seeker than seeking. You hold onto it until the bitter end, in order to gain the prize.”

Harry stared at him. He let the thought process through his mind. “Get off my property,” he spat.

Lucius smiled, bowed a shallow, petulant bow and walked away, his disgusting walking stick in hand.

“I really hate when that man is right,” he said to himself as he went into the flat.

The next morning was sunny and way too hot. He hated it, to be honest. He thought absently that at least it was bright enough to keep the nargles away and then laughed. Luna was on his mind again. He was immediately sad because he knew Luna would be furious with him for letting this fight go on for so long. He took a deep breath and lifted the knocker in front of him.

Draco scowled when he opened the door. “What are you doing here?” he sneered. “You made it clear the last time we spoke. I’m not going to apologize, so we’re through.”

Harry took a deep breath and didn’t rise to the occasion. “We’re going to have lunch. Come on.”

Draco startled, just as Harry had known he would. He hated not having the upper hand, not knowing what cards to play.

“I’m…I’m not dressed to…I have plans.”

“You look fine, you know you don’t have any other plans, and I’m not asking,” Harry snapped. “Let’s go.”

He forced himself to walk away before he let Draco rile him up. That would solve absolutely nothing.

They walked side by side down the high street from Draco’s flat to the tiny brasserie that was at the end of the lane. It was small and overpriced, but it was within a short walk and was also on the ‘Draco approved’ list, so Harry had decided it would do. Inside, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny all waited, a pint in front of each of them. Like a scene from a particularly predictable sitcom, they were all laughing when Harry and Draco entered, and they all abruptly stopped when they saw Draco. Draco inhaled sharply and spun to glare at Harry.

“I can’t believe you,” he whispered viciously.

“Yeah, well, I’ve spent the last two weeks not exactly believing you, so I think it makes us even don’t you? Let’s go, I’m starving.”

He walked to the table, ignoring the hesitant step Draco took toward the door. He couldn’t do anything else. Draco had to make a choice now. Harry saw the moment he made up his mind. The breath where he decided to stay. He sat gingerly at the table. At first, everyone ignored him. He sat and listened to the conversations. And yet.

When Ginny went up to get everyone another round, she brought him a pint as well and Harry slid it to him without looking at him. When their food arrived, Harry silently placed his gherkin on Draco’s plate and Draco’s tomato ended up beside Harry’s burger. They ate, discussing nothing except innocuous subjects. Finally, the plates were cleared away and the beer was gone and Hermione cleared her throat.

“Guess we can decide on pudding,” she muttered, taking the slim menu from its little stand. “I hear the tart sucre here is—”

“Look, I owe all three of you an apology,” Draco interrupted, dragging all their eyes to him at once.

Whatever he had been planning on saying fled from his mouth. Harry watched it happen; he watched about seventeen emotions scroll through his deeply reddening cheeks.

“Draco’s not so good at apologies, as you all know,” Harry murmured, taking pity on him. “It’s been made very clear, however, that—”

“Harry,” Ginny said soothingly. “We already told you, we don’t care. It’s fine.”

“It’s not fine,” Draco whispered.

They all looked back at him again. He cleared his throat.

“It’s not fine. You’re all…you’re family and I forget, sometimes, that you all went through it all together. But. I forget because Harry is my family. So I get…defensive. And angry. And I say things. Things I don’t really mean. And I…I crossed a line.”

“So basically,” Ron said with a smirk, “you were a Slytherin?”

The three of them laughed and Harry smiled down at the table.

“W-what?” Draco said, brow furrowing in his confusion.

“We aren’t actually angry, Draco,” Hermione said patiently. “I mean, it was shitty or whatever, but you’ve said worse. And done worse. We’ve gotten over that. Or at least, we’ve learned to make our peace with the past?” Hermione shook her head and gestured at Harry. “He said we had to come.”

Draco looked murderous for a fraction of a second, then looked a little more sheepishly at Harry, who now sat with his arms folded and challenge on his face.

“You were an ass. Last time you did that, I told you that if you didn’t start apologising when you’d fucked up, this was over. I meant it.”

“We haven’t spoken. For two. Weeks. TWO WEEKS, Harry James Potter! We are engaged. I was pretty sure you were never going to see me again! I…I sent my father to try and talk to you!”

“I knew it was you,” Harry laughed with a smirk. “He was very irritating. Never do that again.”

“Yeah, okay…but the point is…the point is—”

“The point is what, Draco?” Harry challenged.

He opened his mouth as though he was going to protest more, but instead, he stood up and placed his hands flat on the table, facing them all simultaneously. “Ahem,” he began.

“Ginny. I’m sorry I told you I would curse your first born if you didn’t let me buy Pacific Avenue.” He turned slightly to the other side of the table.

“Ron. I’m sorry I cursed all your hotels so that they moved constantly to the little green squares.” He froze and looked at Harry sadly.

“And?” Harry pressed.

He sighed one more time. “And, Hermione…I’m sorry that I slowly stole all your $100 money things, spiked your tea with rum so you wouldn’t notice, and then called you a Ministry Sell Out when you won anyway,” he said all in one breath.

All four of the other people at the table burst out laughing.

“You really need to not let me play Muggle board games with you anymore,” Draco said miserably. “Even if they are the American versions you’ve borrowed from the library!”

“Agreed,” said Harry with a nod. “Though, just for the record, we only ended up not talking for two weeks because you’re a stubborn ass who refuses to a) give up his flat before we’re married and b) won’t apologise when you fuck up, even when things are stupid.”

“Yes, understood,” Draco mumbled. “What made you come over?”

“Well,” Harry said slowly. “There’s more to seeking than being a Seeker…or…something.”

They all looked at him for clarification; Harry just shrugged and stood to order a treacle tart.

#drarry #drarry os #my writing #prompts for days #love professordrarry

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nancypullen · 5 years ago

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Still Kicking

I thought I’d better post something so that you’ll know we haven’t succumbed to the scary virus. Seems like there’s not a lot of good news anymore, if it’s not the pandemic it’s the murder hornets - so I’ll share that we’re fat and happy and still kicking here on the Pullen spread. I can’t seem to stop cooking, so we’re eating A LOT. I’m staying busy with gardens, crafts , and books and the mister is working from home just as he did pre-pandemic. Not much has changed around here except that Home Goods misses my money. Although we’re content here at our place, I still worry. I worry about the rest of our family, I worry about the headlines screaming about everything from food shortages to a deadlier second wave of coronavirus. I’m usually not a big worrier - I analyze the issue and decide whether or not I have any control over it. If I do, then I decide what I can actually control and make a plan (and usually a backup plan, or two). If it’s something that I have no control over, then what’s the use of worrying? When my kids were stressed about something I’d ask them, “What’s the worst that could happen? And what will you do if that happens?” It’s amazing how much your burden eases when you have a plan. But this stupid virus has offered few answers, no timeline, and a fraction of the country is willing to kill the rest in order to be able to dine in at their local tavern or get their hair done. Dummies. As always, whatever is happening in my life reveals itself in my skin. When all is well my skin is glowing. When I’m stressed my skin goes into panic mode. Right now I have a zit on my chin big enough for a birth certificate. Now, my version of stressed really just means overthinking. This situation is hard for someone who likes to have her ducks in a row. I don’t even know how many ducks there are. So I guess I’ll just keep doing my masked grocery pickup every week or so and hope that the majority of Americans use some common sense so we can get ahead of this stuff. My skin would appreciate it. We were supposed to visit our sweet grandgirl in April but that didn’t happen. We have a really fun vacation on Prince Edward Island planned for September, but it’s probably not going to happen either. I’m not sure Canada will (or should) open its borders to us by then. We may end up spending vacation watching travel videos and trying foreign recipes. We can probably tour a lot of places virtually - maybe a walk through the Louvre followed by some crepes? I know, silly stuff to complain about. Considering what so many are dealing with, I should be ashamed for even mentioning canceled trips. Such minor inconveniences. Rest assured, even though I’ve spent this blog post venting and whining, we are in high spirits here at Casa de Pullen. We laugh a lot, we FaceTime often with our favorite toddler - yesterday I read her a book about big girl panties. She’s got an A plus in potty training, a quick learner! It’s so much fun to watch her sing and dance and act kooky. She’s curious about the world and has a lot to say. She’s pure magic. I think she may be keeping us all going during these troubling days. She’s our little ray of sunshine and hope. Speaking of hope, my gardens are coming along nicely. I hope I didn’t just jinx the whole operation. Right now I’ve got basil, rosemary, thyme, and dill up and thriving. I have one big, beefy tomato plant. I sprinkled zinnia seeds here and there and tiny green sprouts are popping up, my reliable perennials are going like gangbusters, and I’ve even potted a few flowers for the porch. Tomorrow should be mostly clear so I’ll snap some pics to share, that’s far more positive post than whining about the current situation. I’ve been making some fun cards so I’ll share those too. I should probably share recipes too. Hot dog, there’s a couple of blog posts in my future! I think I’ll go soak in a bubble bath and think about things. I also need to give myself a pedicure and get my toes summer ready. That’s never been a scheduled event before, now I’ll block out a whole afternoon for it. Mickey needs a haircut, maybe he’ll let me do it. It’ll give us something to do and more than likely something to laugh about. I’ll be back tomorrow with a few pictures and a much better attitude. I promise. A good soak and a good book will work wonders. And you can bet that these two will be waiting on the other side of the door when I come out.

They follow me everywhere. Every day. All day. They’re my posse. Until tomorrow - take care, stay safe, turn off the news for a while, give your heart and mind a rest. I’m going to take my own advice and catch you on the flip side. XOXO- Nancy

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ki6-7-l8r · 7 years ago

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God And The Loss Of God And Other Essays Of Interest.....

God And The Loss Of God March 30, 2017

For most of my life, I was not what you would call spiritual. When I was a kid I had a strong belief in God, that was very Christian oriented. I am a Jew by blood, but

I never followed Judaism. When I reached 16, I became very interested in Eastern Religions. I still believed in God, but in an impersonal God, like the one

described in the Upanishads. I also around 17 got interested in the Occult. I had a friend when I was around 11 who was interested in the occult, who I knew through high

school who influenced me in that direction. None of these things seemed to work very well, so when I reached the age of around 25, I became what you would call a

nihilist. I retained my occult interests, but I was just interested in its Black Magick attributes. This went on, but after awhile I got fed up with it, and from

the years of 1993-2001, I had nothing more to do with it, other than reading tarot cards once in awhile. In 2007, I had some kind of mental breakdown, where I converted

to, and became a Catholic for a couple of years.... Around 2009, due to the intense suffering in my life, and the futility of prayer, I lost all faith in God, or in any

other kinds of spiritual beings, and that is where I am now. If you look around my journal, you will find articles on the occult and other stuff, so I will not repeat it

here. This article has to do with my loss of faith in anything spiritual, including the idea that the occult and mysticism leads to any kind of spiritual "enlightenment"

which I now just view as total nonsense. And so it goes.....

The reason why I am now an atheist and have no belief at all in anything spiritual, is because I do not see spirituality as having any kind of effect in making the world

a better place. I have seen spirituality work (rarely) in making some people better, but that is the exception and not the rule. Religion is stupid, because it makes

people kill and torture each other; over disparate theological systems of what could be only termed, competing forms of superstitious absurdity. Also religion is used as

a pretext to subjugate individuals and masses of people, so they can be personally and collectively exploited. I am not saying that there are no smart and good people

that are religious, I am just saying the religion and beliefs in God/Gods/Goddesses just does not work, because in my view people that believe in these things are

delusional. They are not delusional because entities like this do not exist, they may. But if they do, they exist in alternate universes or planes of existence, that

either have no; or no worthwhile basis in relationship to this one. Because of this, people who believe in these things and spiritual ideas, tend to become delusional.

Spirituality does not work. The USA is loaded with Christians. There are churches everywhere. But if you are poor, the USA is among the worst places to live in the

world. 5 out of the 15 most homeless cities in the world are in the USA, and the USA has a homeless population that has become as bad as the Third World. Poverty is

endemic, as well as hunger and food insecurity, and those with homes are constantly in danger of losing them, or worried how they will pay their gas or electric. I have

spent a huge part of my life in such straits which is why I hate the United States; and have nothing but contempt for its political class and the government. The

election of Trump and his budget cuts were the last straw. The USA will never improve, so I am going to try in the 2-3 years to leave it for good and move to Europe.

I will renounce my US citizenship when it is feasible, and leave here and never come back. But back to my original point, the USA is full of Christians, yet

American society is a greed-obsessed shithole of a country. The Christians in the USA, most of them, are like a Protestant Taliban, pompous hypocrites full of greed and

crazy as shithouse owls. Catholics are no different, but most of them tend to be pretty quiet, which is good.

Another bad thing about America, is that these religious clowns keep the USA socially backward. They succeed in stopping stem-cell research, curtailing abortion,

blocking helping to make the USA more socially advanced by creating a better social safety net, and curtailing welfare, etc. But corporate welfare and the entitlement

policies

for the rich are OK. It is OK if kids go hungry with no welfare, as long as they can use the money to give rich people tax cuts. This is what Donald Trump thinks, and

the Democrats are no better. The rich in the USA are the worst kind of parasites, and all the US government does is bow-and-scrape and do their will, and oppress the

population to serve their venal interests.

This is not even politically radical at all, but perfectly obvious to anyone with half a brain.

What is interesting is in Sweden and Northern Europe, half of them that are Nordic people describe themselves as atheists or agnostics. And they have a far more humane

society with virtually no poverty or homelessness. The only people that are homeless are drug abusers that migrate around crashing on people's sofas, and illegal

immigrants who are there without permission. Legal permanent residents and citizens want for nothing. It seems in this case that atheism seems to actually *make* people

more moral. The USA would be a better place as well, if they just boarded-up all of the churches and gave up on religions. Russia is also gangster capitalist with all

kinds of poverty and no human rights. The Russian Orthodox church is no good at all.

I do not know what spirituality really is. I have no sense or conviction that spirituality is anything other than people being in the spasm of mood-swings.

As for me, my life is way too harsh for me to have even the smallest concern as to what any God/Goddess/Gods think of me. I could care less. Life is hard enough

without cluttering it with religious nonsense that does not work.

The infinite irrelevance of God and his nonexistence for me is the same. (I did not have time to edit this, and only slept 3 hours last night. Apologies for poor

syntax) ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I am just going to throw out some random ideas, as I am thinking about divergent things...

In regards to the idea that if all things are removed, (even infinity) that Nothing is the only thing left that exists. But since Nothing has no attributes that can be

ascertained to be real, Nothing existing is a misnomer since there is Nothing in Nothing to exist. Thus if Nothing exists, its existence must be illusory. Thus Nothing

affirms the illusion of its own existence, and thus implies the existence of illusion. And since Nothing is boundless, this illusion must be infinite; but wrought out of

Nothing and utterly one with it. And since it is all illusion nothing in this fake existence can be real in itself, thus everything in it must be relatively real: i.e.

infinitely self and other defined: So it would be Infinitely Relativized and Actualized Non-Substantiality. But Nothing being Nothing really must in truth, deny the

illusion of its own existence, and thus the existence of Illusion. Then all would be Infinitely De-Relativized, De-Actualized, and before anything could become separate

and amorphous, (nothing existing in itself) it would instantly be gone, non-substantiated into Nothingness Unmanifest.....

What perplexes me, is what if the pole of anything actually existing could be reproduced and then destroyed in an infinitesimal fraction of a second; where

Infinitely Relativized and Actualized Non-Substantiality would come and fade into existence so fast, that nobody would be aware of anything, and the pain of existence

would never actually be experienced by anyone or anything? This would for all practical purposes, keep Nothing in a state of Nothingness, and thus always be pure

Nirvana.

Why am I a determinist? I am of the view that freewill is an illusion. I think this because every complex of thought and action is predicated by some form of motive

force which is determined by its own reason for existing. This is true of everything. This happening as an infinite kind of gestalt across omniform multidimensionality

and

linearity across space and time holds everything together. The totality of what constitutes consciousness, motive force, and all acts is determined by *being* through

which the former emerges as a kind of reflex, of all interrelating with all, at a level of infinite complexity.

What will become of the USA? There is a cultural polarization going on in the country that is unprecedented. Americans used to be apolitical, now they are totally

*misinformed*. They are lied to by everyone.... By MSNBC, by Fox News, by liberals, by conservatives, and the only thing that holds true with all of these interests is

that they are totally self-interested and self-serving. Even Russia Today back in 2012, really concerned me over the "National Defense Authorization Act" that they said

was being used to send American citizens to Gitmo where they would be tortured, and this never happened. Even RT is propaganda in its own way...... But the polarization

runs right through the USA and even up into the wealthy strata. The only thing neo-liberals and conservatives have in common is in domestic affairs: They want to screw

everyone out of as much money as possible. In all else though they are at loggerheads. The liberals hate Putin and see him as another Hitler, whereas 48% of Republicans

admire Vladimir Putin very much. Both views of Putin are wrong. Putin is Machiavelli, with a touch of Jesus Christ. You have a square-off between the socially tolerant,

agnostic and atheistic, sexually libertine, but pro-ruthless capitalist and war-crazy neo-liberals, verses the socially intolerant, religiously fanatical, sexually

repressed, but pro-ruthless capitalist, and sometimes protectionist antiwar, but militarily supportive and at times war-crazy conservatives. This is a culture war, and it

is hard to see where it will end up. You do have some liberal so-called oligarchs, like George Soros who is very supportive of the Left. Soros supplied Occupy Wall Street

protesters with tents, generators, and legal help. If Trump continues neo-liberal economic policies the economy will totally go under. Half of the USA is doing very bad

economically, as in below-the-poverty-line bad. The only good this will do is that this will motivate and galvanize the Left. (Thats if they wake up from the system-

propagated distraction of cultural liberal issues, which will insure that the Left accomplished basically nothing of substance) And they are talking of gutting social

security too, and throwing a bunch of old people onto the streets, really? Is that the best anyone can do?

Hermetic/Platonic Philosophy In Just A Few Words..... July 17, 2016

1. The Infinite Is Unfolded/Regenerated Within And As The Finite; As The Finite Unfolded/Regenerated Within And As The Infinite.

2.The Infinite Within Its Actualized Potentialities; And Potentialized Actualities; And The Finite Within Its Actualized Potentialities; And Potentialized Actualities;

Are Wholly and Utterly One.

3. The Involution Of The Infinite Eternalizes The Finite And Finitizes The Infinite....

4. The Evolution Of The Finite Eternalizes The Infinite And Finitizes The Finite...

5. Therion Said: "Nothing Is." I say: NOTHING ALONE IS WHEN ALL IS GONE; NO THING IS BECAUSE WITHOUT THE RELATIVE IT CANNOT EXIST IN ITSELF.

" " "Nothing Becomes." I say: NOTHING BECOMES WHEN MAYA MANIFESTS; NO THING BECOMES BECAUSE IT IS ONE "IS'NESS" BEYOND SPACE AND TIME.

" " "Nothing Is Not." I say: NOTHING IS NOT/NOUGHT BECAUSE IT HAS NO POSITIVE EXISTENCE; NO THING IS NOUGHT BECAUSE IT HAS AT LEAST RELATIVE EXISTENCE.

" " "God And Man Emerging As Twins From Nuit And Hadit." This means that the Infinite/Eternal Will achieve completion within and as the Temporal/Finite;

and/as the Temporal/Finite achieving completion within and as the Infinite/Eternal. All things will be Infinite And Eternal, yet maintaining their unique

natures evolved and involved within space and time... Apocatastasis in Russian Orthodoxy.

There, I have just saved you from reading hundreds of tomes... Smile

#atheism #god #metaphysics #hermetic philosophy #quantum physics #occult

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