#I don't think I can name one group of people that is truly 'counter-cultural' these days. Just as how the punks became their own in-group;

[cosmic-kiwi]

I think what we’re seeing here is ‘normies’ who are aware enough to realize that the counter-cultural groups of the past are now thought of as cool.

And ‘normies’ by their very nature want acceptance from mainstream society and for other people to think they’re cool. And so they become attracted to this superficial concept of ‘counter-cultural’ and want to find ways to apply it to all their mainstream interests so they can feel ‘cool’ too – in an acceptable way.

Basically ‘counter-cultural’ has become… trendy. Which makes it main-stream. Which makes things that are called it probably actually not very counter-cultural at all.

(Come to think of it, aren’t Coachella and Burning Man just a bunch of social media obsessed trend chasers dressed up as... hippies?)

you guys just say sentences

[drdemonprince]

I keep seeing the posts about male socialization and idk it makes me feel weird because I identify as transfem and I *do* believe I had male socialization. I find it easier to identify with and understand male groups and to feel involved in the while I feel less at ease understanding how women feel and think even though my personal view of myself leans more towards a feminine identity. All these posts make me doubt that I am truly "transfem" and that even if I am, that I am fundamentally transfem in a different way than most other transfems I run into. Is there any sources or writing out there that either provides a counter-perspective or at the very least points to nuance on this subject from a transfem lens? I wish I didn't feel so alone with these feelings.

Your feelings and experience do not make you any less legitimate as a transfeminine person. A lot of trans women rightfully and understandably need to counteract the notion that they're oppressive privileged males or whatever by asserting, as clearly as they can, the many ways in which their socialization was a female socialization, with all the double-standards, demanded emotional labor, sexual predation, etc that entails -- but the very need to assert these things is due to the culture's twisted misconceptions about what gender even is and how it operates.

It's not as though a young person only gets the socialization of the binary gender to which they were assigned -- they get mandatory cishet socialization, and they see what is expected of the "other" gender, and that impacts them, and the standards for that other gender also influence how they are interpreted and seen.

And so I do think, to a certain extent, that when trans people assert that we actually didn't get socialized as our assigned gender at birth, we got socialized as the correct gender, actually, we are unfortunately ceding ground to the transphobes on a couple of key points. One, we're conceeding that there is a singular binary socialization that the two genders each get, which are separate from one another and always exhibit specific features, and two, that a person's socialization as a young person is a key determinant of their gendered experience, privilege, and identity forever, no matter what happens after they are young.

And you know, both those things are totally wrong. There is no one female socialization. I've written about this before, but I wasn't raised to be feminine. I was raised the way working-class girls are raised, which is to be no-nonsense, unfrivolous, serious, sporty, and capable -- a wife and mother, but the kind that never wears a skirt or cries in front of people. And there is no singular "male" socialization either -- I cite a few trans femme people in this piece who experienced themselves as having some male privilege before they transitioned, and some more typically "male" experiences, while also quoting a number of trans women whose lives went the exact opposite way. I assert in the piece that their experiences are theirs to name, and that there's a number of different ways we might each understand and categorize them personally -- especially when we take into account how much gendered socialization is dependent upon class, race, immigration status, diasporic status, and much more.

My view is that however you think your live played out, and whoever you find community alongside, you're right. I'm about to answer a similar ask about this from a trans masc perspective, but I'm a guy who has a ton of women friends and always have. I grew up mostly with girls as my closest buddies and we did things like playing pretend and having slumber parties and doing makeovers. I could chalk this up as a "female socialization" experience I guess if I wanted to. But I also grew up with a lot of gay boys, and I am a gay man, and guess what -- a lot of us grow up with predominately female friends. I don't think I have some essential feminine quality because my friends kept insisting on putting eyeshadow on me when I was ten. The fact I was bad at sports and couldn't be the tough, no-nonsense person that my culture expected me to be was gonna affect me whether I was a boy or a girl. And my upbringing was significantly different from that of one of my very best, oldest friends, whose family owned a successful business and were able to buy her a car and a horse and shit.

You're not betraying anything or lessening your own transfemininity by resonating with some typically "male" experiences or for having close male connections. Lots of queer women do! Just like I have plenty in common with lots of women! We don't say that cis women aren't women because they grew up tomboys, or had a ton of brothers, and the same is true of you. Even if you don't think of your younger self as "a tomboy" or even as a girl. You don't have to ascribe to the narrative that you were always one gender and always moved through the world with that identity. To demand that all trans people do so is respectability politics -- we cannot and should not require that all people be trans in the same ways. I have written before that transition to me feels at once both pre-ordained AND a choice that I made. You can say that you lived as a boy for some years or were a boy if that feels right to you, or that you had certain privileges while also suffering from dysphoria and disconnection; it's your life and you know it best and what serves you.

I wish I had narratives from trans women writers to direct you to, but for the most part the trans women who I've heard express feelings like yours have been in the support and discussion groups I've been in, and in private conversation -- I think because the socialization experiences of trans femmes are so unfairly politicized. I hope if any trans femme people see this have anything to share or any words to say that they will!

[the-sweet-hibiscus]

On Racism in the Darklina Community

disclaimer: this is less receipt based and just my own personal feelings over the last few days.

With the situation with Christina there was a lot push back and divide between whether or not Merel deserved the vitriol and larger if Darklinas at all deserve the automatic hate and discrediting as fans in this space.

Accusations

There were a lot of responses, and with this I noticed a common theme of accusing Darklinas, in a general sense, of being racist harassers. And I want to discuss it earnestly and genuinely because racism is a very serious thing. So I'm going to show a few tweets and we can go from there (redacted user names because I don't think who is making these accusation is as important as what they're saying).

These come from the same person. I've explained this before and I stand by it — I don't think any one person should be penalized for the actions of someone else. Full stop. The person who was attacked was - only in the family for a few months, hadn't really interacted with Christina before, etc. But that was hashed out in my previous post. My real issue came when people asked for proof of these accusations. "I don't have it, I didn't see a reason to screenshot it." Now this person has since claimed to not be in the Shadow and Bone fandom at all. So lets give the grace and say they thought "not my circus, not my monkey". Right? It's fair. I don't go into other fandoms and screenshot the worst of the worst and put them on blast. But I also don't, months and years later, return and say "oh you're all awful" I just find it weird. But again. We have no proof here. Not a name to look into. Not a phrase that someone might have said. They said this:

But I just. How are we supposed to know what to search right? If I, over the past three years, have never seen the racism people are talking about. How am I supposed to know what to look for? Who am I looking for? They claim just look it up? Look what up? Racism and Darklina as key terms? All I'm asking for is a name. Literally anything to prove that "oh these people are bad, let me disassociate with them." Instead, I and anyone who asks for a modicum of evidence or even just 1 name its "i don't know" or "well I didn't think it was important". For years! Like if you don't think it's important to spread awareness about when it happens, or even provide like the standard "this is you?" or just ANYTHING. Then they call us idiot for asking for it. People are just begging for information. I AM BEGGING for someone to say or show something that can ya know. Justify the claims they're making. That's not insane I don't think. All the time, accusations are put out on the internet. And every time. "Do you have any proof? If not I won't believe you." EVERY TIME. In pop culture off the top of my head — Colleen Balinger v Adam McIntyre. The Ace Family combating sexual assault accusations. Percy Hynes White. Chris D'elia. The list goes on and on. And each time it was like "where are the receipts. Or the receipts are given. Counter-evidence is given. The court of public opinion takes place.

Yet when it's a group of people asking for proof of these actions so they don't interact anymore. It's "you're just like them." This seemed like such a popular response. So popular for people to think "lol proof? fuck you."

No Proof is Our Fault, I guess

So obviously this person wasn't the only one voicing their opinion. And this person said:

Firstly, I hate that anyone would be harassed because they point out racist actions. I'm sorry, that the one person you showed, did something awful. Truly. I'm sorry that the people in question lashed out at you. However. Like I said: if the majority of us didn't see it, right, how are we supposed to call this out? If we didn't see? We never heard it? So now we're all evil, and are going to attack you? Because we said nothing because we saw nothing? But it's people like this, who at the same time will go out of their way to quote tweet, and screenshot when they see minor behavior on the timeline.

To the point that bee briefly deleted her account. So it's like, obviously the capacity to call out problematic behavior is there. The willingness to screenshot, quote tweet, and spread around any tweet from a darklina is there.

But when it comes to racism: "I don't trust you enough to share evidence." "I didn't think it was important."

When it comes to harassment: crickets.

It's not important until darklinas have a problem with being discredited. It's not important enough to screenshot or report until other parts of the fandom want to have a gotcha moment without providing any instances of racism actually happening.

This is long winded already.

Final Thoughts

Idk man. I just feel frustrated because all I've seen for DAYS is "please tell us who these terrible people are, so we can block and stop interacting with them." and then it turns to "Fuck you, you know what you did." NO. I don't! None of the people asking for proof know what you're talking about! That's why we're ASKING.

In literally all of my other fandoms, there are similar dramas and accusations. But it never drags on for years because proof is provided! Those people are excommunicated from the larger space! But it just feels like anti-darklina fans are so gun-ho on demonizing EVERYONE because the actions of the few.

If you see racism and harassment, REPORT IT. Screen shot, share why. Say "hey this is problematic." Everyone talks about cancel culture, but when it comes to serious accusations they think solving the issue is hiding it? Refusing to share what was said so people can make sure no one interacts with them or at least make it know that person sucks ass?

At this point it feels like y'all WANT darklinas to be these bad people who say and do awful things. Meanwhile, this year alone, Darklinas have excommunicated several people for defending Ben Barnes and the racist actions he's committed this year. (This is not a BB call out post, but as BB and Darklinas had a lot of overlap, it was something that came up and overwhelmingly Darklinas shamed Ben Barnes and the defenders).

I just wish this fandom was able to collectively acknowledge when someone is being terrible, regardless of their fucking shipping preference. Racism has no place in fan spaces. It never should. (It has no place in real life, either.) And fan spaces should work TOGETHER to expel racists when it's seen. It's called a fandom community for a reason.

[unbidden-yidden-deactivated20240]

The whole "culturally Xtian" debate is going around again and I've so far been staying out of it, because I feel like I've said most everything I have to say about it, BUT. I now have additional thoughts and can no longer help myself.

To recap earlier posts of mine:

I still think it would help The Disc Horse to focus on describing behavior rather than assigning immutable traits to people on the internet you almost certainly don't know.

Therefore I don't think we need a *new* term so much as some minor grammatical modifications.

Namely: Collectively, a group, a society, an idea, a behavior, etc. can certainly be culturally Xtian. Individually, a person can be engaging in a culturally Xtian behavior or arguing a culturally Xtian idea. If you really must describe the whole person's culture, making it a verb indicates better the lack of choice: i.e. - "from a christianized culture." Obviously if someone identifies themselves as culturally Xtian, that's a totally separate and fine thing.

I still think the baseline problem here is unexamined Xtian antisemitism repackaged as "secularism" or "rationalism."

I feel like nearly every post I've seen about this has treated the term like it's clearly defined and obvious, and then proceeded to define it in an interesting and unique way. It's amorphous and ubiquitous enough that it almost seems to have taken on the "obscenity" problem: How do you define obscenity? You'll know it when you see it.

This is actually completely fine, so long as people are aware of and honest about that factor. Which does mean that there needs to be some nuance in how it does or does not apply to any given person at any given time.

It's also really important to ask "whose Xtianity?" and not treat a global religion with 2.6 billion adherents (and a truly dizzying number of denominations) as a hivemind. There are certainly general Xtian theological ideas that bleed out into the societies they exist in, but let's be honest about how truly weird American neo-Puritanism/late Calvinism is, too.

However, some stray comments/questions that I think are new and I'm interested if people have thoughts/answers:

I think the mixed message that's going out is that yeah - culturally Xtian people are always culturally Xtian and that is a theoretically neutral identity, but it's usually only relevant and therefore only being brought up when that background happens to be causing them to further the oppression of religious minorities, namely, antisemitism. So the overall perception from the people on the receiving end of it is that this is a Bad thing because they only associate it with being called out for antisemitic ideas. It's not *just* the trauma they individually may have, but also the context in which they're hearing about it. I think if it had first gained traction in the context of people identifying additional ways to deconvert by deconstructing these Xtian hegemonic ideas, we'd be having a totally different conversation here.

I saw a post about how Xtianity views itself as modular and completely distinct from culture in a way that few, if any, other religions do. I mostly agree, but I do think that's specifically because I'm Jewish. I think viewing culture and religion as inseparably intertwined is very specifically an ethnoreligious viewpoint that others the mainstream hegemonic Xtian view of "religion" as modular. And I suspect that is at least part of why it has gotten such a negative reaction.

There have been lots of comments about how Xtian secularism is still culturally Xtian (with France as one very clear-cut example); however, I would be extremely interested in seeing how this stacks up to, say, Chinese secularism that is of course not culturally Xtian. I definitely don't know anywhere close to enough to comment; just, that if we're going to make claims about Xtianity's arbitrary bifurcation of what is "religious" versus what is "cultural," we need a counter-example of intentional, large-scale non-Xtian secularism. I know literally just enough about the Cultural Revolution to know that it would be extremely interesting to learn from someone who did know what they were talking about to see how those divide lines compare to the divide lines in culturally Xtian societies. I'd also be interested in other examples as well; that's just the primary one I thought of.

And just to really make sure I beat on every hornets' nest because I apparently love headaches: Are we gonna talk about the cultural Xtianity within American Jewish communities? I bring this up specifically because if we are going to go hard on keeping out forms of cultural Xtianity from outsiders, it would behoove us to understand what we are protecting and make sure we've addressed the calls coming from inside the house. How do we talk about it respectfully when fellow Jews are exhibiting these same ideas and behaviors? Can that analysis also be applied out to others? Should it be?

I think it would also be fascinating (albeit a much larger discussion) to consider whether, if what we consider culture, religion, and/or societal ethics to be so interconnected as to be functionally different aspects of the same concept, then is a secular society even possible? Is individual secularity? Or is it simply a continuum of individuals' ritual observance, faith, and spirituality? Because the answers to those questions have some significant ramifications on this whole conversation.

[thecenternewsstories]

Political Correctness: Gone Too Far?

Times are changing, by the second, by the hour, by the day, week and month. It is the nature of time, and with that change the way that we as people interact with others changes in turn. But it begs the question: which changes are necessary? Which are superfluous? Which changes are a product of an advancing society? Which are a product of censorship and the over-policing of our morality? Can you be too politically correct? It is a question that has been debated as long as the term "politically correct" has existed, and possibly even before that, long before we had the verbiage to describe the type of discourse that was occurring. In recent times, these questions are being pondered more frequently, more publicly, and with more vigor. Our Visitors have sparked a new worldwide debate on what things are, what things should be, and what things should not be socially acceptable, peoples opinions on the matter being completely polarized.

"These damn things do not belong here." Says Jackson Ingle, the co-founder of the New Haven chapter of the anti Visitor organization, Chritanis Against Visitors (CAV). 

"I think "Visitors" is too nice a name for them. They should be called what they are: Devils. Demons. Evil. And I don't think it's wrong of me to say that. We shouldn't even entertain the idea that these things should be anywhere near our homes, our stores, our children. The fact that the government hasn't shot them dead in the streets is a testament to how extreme "political correctness" has become. They're so worried about not steppin' on toes that they won't even protect their citizens from an obvious threat! It's ridiculous. Just a damn shame."

We spoke to Ingle at one of CAV's anti Visitor rallies, being held just outside of New Haven city hall this past Friday. Rally attendees toted signs with slogans such as "No Vacancy for Visitors!" and "Visitation Hours Have Ended," while sporting CAV brand attire, or the shirts being sold at the rally that read "Only 3D for me! Oust the V's! PC culture is tyranny!"

But in a crowd full of people expressing anti Visitor sentiment, dissenting voices can also be heard from the other side. Representatives from the Lace Anne chapter of The Welcome Committee (TWC), a Visitors' rights activism group, drove from 2 hours away to protest the CAV rally. TWC members posit that it is not merely politically correct to welcome and embrace Visitors as we would any member of humankind, but a matter of civil rights and basic human decency. We were able to get a statement from Victoria Trace, the press secretary for their chapter of TWC, with her thoughts about the current CAV rally.

"These people don't know virtue from vitriol." Trace says, "And it's truly the hypocrisy that gets me. Their sacred book has story after story of angelic beings, inhuman and incomprehensible, but holy nonetheless. And they insist that if they were in that position, if it were them that encountered Gabriella or Ezra they wouldn't be afraid and would follow their instruction without hesitation. Yet they buckle at the first unfathomable being that enters our atmosphere."

"And don't misunderstand me," she clarified, "I'm not saying that our Visitors were sent by god or that they're angels or what have you. I'm just saying that it's ironic."

When asked if she had any thoughts on CAV members' assertion that welcoming Visitors is evidence of "political correctness going too far," she replied, "it's just mindfulness. It's just kindness. And I don't think that that's something you can take too far."

While exploring more of the rally, we were actually able to encounter some Visitors themselves. They did not engage with either side of the rally, ignoring the protestors and counter protestors alike. While some members of my crew had an immediate and visceral reaction to encountering the Visitors, I was able to approach them without issue. I asked them for their opinion on the protests and if they had any thoughts about the concept of political correctness.

One of the Visitors, whose name I was not able to properly document, as hearing it spoken caused my ears to bleed, had this to say:

"We do not e̷x̴i̶s̸t̵ ̵f̵o̷r̵ your discussion ẉ̴́e do not exist for y̶o̶u̷r̵ debate we are here because we m̸̛̰ust b̴e̶ W̴̻̎e̴̤̓ ̵̳̾ḓ̷͠ő̸̬ ̸̱́n̶͕̑ǫ̷̂t̸̯͠ ̷̰̿e̸̦̽x̶̖͌i̷̊ͅs̸̙̾t̵̢͝ ̷̘̍f̴̲̿ŏ̸̩r̴͙̄ ̶̮͐ý̵̰o̷̜͊u̸̬͐ȑ̴͉ ̷̬͝w̸̓͜ȅ̴̬ ̶̒͜d̷͙̽o̴̰̎ ̷͍́n̷͓͝o̴͚͂t̵̫̚ ̵̢̂e̸̡͗x̷̦̽i̴̧͐s̸͇̒ť̶̙ ̸͍͐f̵̦̈́o̵̬͑r̶̻͂ ̵͎̔y̴͙͒o̶̞͐u̶̼̿ ̵͈̾ẃ̶̬ẻ̵͍ ̸̣̒d̶͎͐ó̴̪ ̶̦͌n̵͎͠o̸̮͝t̸͉̊ ̴̭͝e̵̫̓x̷̦̚i̷̚ͅs̵̗̔t̸̘͋ ̷̂ͅf̵͓͊o̴̭̅r̸͎͌ ̷̢̏y̷̰͐o̶̹͐ủ̴̠ ̸͎́w̶͇̓ę̸̄ ̸͇͐d̴̞̈́o̴͗ͅ ̷̰̚n̶̯̋ȏ̷̖ẗ̷͚ ̷̬͋e̷̖͛ẋ̶̼i̸̺̅s̶͖͝t̷͊͜ ̵̭̃f̸̯́o̸̖̎r̷̋ͅ ̸̙͠y̴͍̔o̷̜͋ű̷̬ ̴͘ͅw̶̲̅e̸̯̚ ̷̤̄ḋ̴̙õ̸̜ ̸͋͜n̵̳͝o̷̜̔ẗ̶̳́ ̶͚̌ḛ̶͐x̵̖͊i̴̛̲s̶͙̃ț̸̚ ̵̺͑f̵͓̀o̶̝̕r̶͇̚ ̸̫̽y̷̫̐o̸͈͂ŭ̶̼ ̶̰̎w̵̤̆e̸��̮ ̴̜͝d̵͚̈́ö̶̤ ̷̦͘ṉ̵̅o̵̹͑t̴̪̚ ̶̳̈e̴̦̅x̷͙̐i̵̥̋s̶̞̍t̵̫̕ ̷̡̒f̶͉̌o̸̤͆r̸̜̍ ̵̲̍ÿ̵̗o̶͓̓u̸̝͘ ̴̤͆w̸̝͝e̷̗͑ ̵̥̈́d̶̝̃o̴̖͝ ̴̪͆ṋ̵͝o̸̯͠ṭ̵̆ ̶̡͋e̸̫͆x̷̘̎i̶̬͊s̸̘̈́t̵̞͑ ̸̯̋f̴̧̈́o̸̖̊r̸̳̋ ̴̩͐y̸̛͎ò̵̟u̴̪̐ ̴͇͂w̷͈̎e̴̫͝ ̷̖͗d̵͙͒o̶͍̽ ̸͉̎n̷̽͜ő̸ͅt̸̼̀ ̴͖̍e̸͓͗x̷͖̑i̶̪͊ŝ̴͉t̸̝̾ ̶̲̾f̵͓̾o̸͔͆r̴̳͘ ̶̨̑y̴͑ͅo̶͎̓u̷̫͊ ̴̖̇w̷̲̐e̷̫̐ ̴̖̂d̴͉̎o̴͚͊ ̶͖͝ṋ̵͋ö̴͎́ţ̸̛ ̴̺̚e̸̮̎x̴̹̿î̴̪s̶͚͐ṱ̷͐ ̸̲͋f̵̞̈́ö̴̘r̷͉̀ ̸̤͂y̸̪͘o̴̼̓ũ̶̗ ̶̢͋w̷̬̌ė̷̼ ̷͔̆d̴̩̈́o̶̟͝ ̶̜̂n̶̢̅ȏ̵͚t̵̲͝ ̶̢͝ě̷̪x̵̦̎ǐ̶̬ś̶͓t̶̼͝ ̵̠͝f̷̥̅õ̴̠r̷͓̈́ ̵͈̉y̶̭͛o̴̡̔u̷͎̓W̴̻̎e̴̤̓ ̵̳̾ḓ̷͠ő̸̬ ̸̱́n̶͕̑ǫ̷̂t̸̯͠ ̷̰̿e̸̦̽x̶̖͌i̷̊ͅs̸̙̾t̵̢͝ ̷̘̍f̴̲̿ŏ̸̩r̴͙̄ ̶̮͐ý̵̰o̷̜͊u̸̬͐ȑ̴͉ ̷̬͝w̸̓͜ȅ̴̬ ̶̒͜d̷͙̽o̴̰̎ ̷͍́n̷͓͝o̴͚͂t̵̫̚ ̵̢̂e̸̡͗x̷̦̽i̴̧͐s̸͇̒ť̶̙ ̸͍͐f̵̦̈́o̵̬͑r̶̻͂ ̵͎̔y̴͙͒o̶̞͐u̶̼̿ ̵͈̾ẃ̶̬ẻ̵͍ ̸̣̒d̶͎͐ó̴̪ ̶̦͌n̵͎͠o̸̮͝t̸͉̊ ̴̭͝e̵̫̓x̷̦̚i̷̚ͅs̵̗̔t̸̘͋ ̷̂ͅf̵͓͊o̴̭̅r̸͎͌ ̷̢̏y̷̰͐o̶̹͐ủ̴̠ ̸͎́w̶͇̓ę̸̄ ̸͇͐d̴̞̈́o̴͗ͅ ̷̰̚n̶̯̋ȏ̷̖ẗ̷͚ ̷̬͋e̷̖͛ẋ̶̼i̸̺̅s̶͖͝t̷͊͜ ̵̭̃f̸̯́o̸̖̎r̷̋ͅ ̸̙͠y̴͍̔o̷̜͋ű̷̬ ̴͘ͅw̶̲̅e̸̯̚ ̷̤̄ḋ̴̙õ̸̜ ̸͋͜n̵̳͝o̷̜̔ẗ̶̳́ ̶͚̌ḛ̶͐x̵̖͊i̴̛̲s̶͙̃ț̸̚ ̵̺͑f̵͓̀o̶̝̕r̶͇̚ ̸̫̽y̷̫̐o̸͈͂ŭ̶̼ ̶̰̎w̵̤̆e̸̮̽ ̴̜͝d̵͚̈́ö̶̤ ̷̦͘ṉ̵̅o̵̹͑t̴̪̚ ̶̳̈e̴̦̅x̷͙̐i̵̥̋s̶̞̍t̵̫̕ ̷̡̒f̶͉̌o̸̤͆r̸̜̍ ̵̲̍ÿ̵̗o̶͓̓u̸̝͘ ̴̤͆w̸̝͝e̷̗͑ ̵̥̈́d̶̝̃o̴̖͝ ̴̪͆ṋ̵͝o̸̯͠ṭ̵̆ ̶̡͋e̸̫͆x̷̘̎i̶̬͊s̸̘̈́t̵̞͑ ̸̯̋f̴̧̈́o̸̖̊r̸̳̋ ̴̩͐y̸̛͎ò̵̟u̴̪̐ ̴͇͂w̷͈̎e̴̫͝ ̷̖͗d̵͙͒o̶͍̽ ̸͉̎n̷̽͜ő̸ͅt̸̼̀ ̴͖̍e̸͓͗x̷͖̑i̶̪͊ŝ̴͉t̸̝̾ ̶̲̾f̵͓̾o̸͔͆r̴̳͘ ̶̨̑y̴͑ͅo̶͎̓u̷̫͊ ̴̖̇w̷̲̐e̷̫̐ ̴̖̂d̴͉̎o̴͚͊ ̶͖͝ṋ̵͋ö̴͎́ţ̸̛ ̴̺̚e̸̮̎x̴̹̿î̴̪s̶͚͐ṱ̷͐ ̸̲͋f̵̞̈́ö̴̘r̷͉̀ ̸̤͂y̸̪͘o̴̼̓ũ̶̗ ̶̢͋w̷̬̌ė̷̼ ̷͔̆d̴̩̈́o̶̟͝ ̶̜̂n̶̢̅ȏ̵͚t̵̲͝ ̶̢͝ě̷̪x̵̦̎ǐ̶̬ś̶͓t̶̼͝ f̶̧̢͎̥͍̟̓̆̈́͑̂̈́̅̓̍͜ȏ̶̰͇̻͇͕̈̽̀͒̒͐̅͠ȑ̷̨̻͉̑͗̔ ̶̱̗̯͓͕͈̈́͛̾͗̈́ÿ̷̜͐̍͝ő̷̡̝̦͍u̵̧̒r̸͚̝̺̠̼̬̼̘̈́̄̏͛͋̏͆̾ ̶̡̯̰͉̬̙̻̩̽̋w̵̛̲̔̇̌̉̀͂͐͒͜͠e̷̮͕̞̻͍͔̪̣̠͎͋̈́̾̽̃ ̷͍̳̖̰̥̄̀̿͋̓d̶̢̧̺̝̅̑͝o̷̡̪͉̱͔̊͑͌ ̷̢̳̜̮̼̪̉̄̇̑͜͝ņ̵̛͉̈́̔o̷̞̜̟̜̅͌̒́̐̌̚͝͝ͅͅt̶̟̰̘̙̱̺̹̹̽̐̽͒́̊̀̄̚͜ ̸͕̩̼͙̖̻̗̠̘̱̓̀̎͐͆͝ē̶̹̈́͌̀̾̈́̇̉̚x̴̧̱̱͎͕̫̗̞̩̅͆i̶̭̫̠͎̠̟͒̏̄̕s̴̺̭̘̺̩̈́t̸̨͉̘̞̠̬̗͈͈̳̍̎͆̅͒̇̎̆͘͝ ̵̢̤̬̥̩͖̬̄̏̎̆̎́̌f̴͚̞̩͙̻͔͔̥̤̑͂̇̇́̿̚õ̴͔͇̻̤̱͊̆̀̓͋̄̉̚͝ŕ̵̗̘̙̽͌̒̀̕͝ ̴̣͔͓͑͊͊̂̏̈́͐̀͝͠y̶̡̨̡̪͙̣̻͝ớ̷̙̦̘͚̰̥͈̖̝̽̋́̍̍̚͝͝ŭ̴̦̗́̅̐̾̀͋͂͘ ̶̛̩̣̣̣͖̟̮̆̑̏̾͗̑͜͝ẅ̷̨̧̗̰̬̝͉͍́̑̽̐̇̆͜ę̵̹̥̗̈͛̈́̈́̊̌͋͂ͅ ̵̼̦́͂͗̅̈́̇̎͘d̶̪̱̯͓͖̦͚͇̈͜ó̴͎͇̬̔͌̂̑͗ ̸͈͙̳̤̹͒̿̏̈́͒̎̇ņ̶͙͚̼͒ͅo̶̩̠̙̖̭͗̆̌̎̚̕͜͜͜ț̸̤͎̲̤͚̚ ̴̩͌̈́̏́̄̈́͐͝ẻ̷̘͖̱̭̩̞̱̳̦̂̈́͒́͜x̴̛̛̥͚̞͇̟̰̲̞̀͐͠i̸̧̯̝̭̣͎̱̬̹͌͌̔͊̈́͒̇̈́͛́͜s̵̬̅́́̃̈́̂͒t̷̨͓̮̠̏̓͛̈́̉̈̇͗̈́̾ͅ ̴̳͚̬͉̐̕f̷̺͓̺̪̲͖̥̘̽̒́̅̅̉o̶̖̯̺̯͇̓̿̇̌̉͑͝͝r̵̯͉͍̀̽̅̅̊́̓͘͝ ̵̜̝̫͕̺͖̟̫̯̟̌͑̀̈́̌ÿ̶̘͓́̏o̵̢̖͔̥̫̣̭͖͕̽̀̄͋̈́͒ǔ̸͌̌̇̂̿̽��̢͔̣ ̴͍͓̍̈́̚ŵ̸̗̂̄̀̕ȩ̵̗̰̗̞̯̙̑̾̈́ͅ ̵̬͖̞͚̝̭̺̲̿̔̀͜͠d̸̥͎̤̮̰̀̎͛͑̇̈͘o̵̦̙̫̤͑͛̽͋̃̿̓̀̄̚ ̵̖̪̪̼̪̼̦̘͇͂̑̈́̂͌n̴̛̲͇̱͑̀̈́͒o̶͙̺̥̊̃̌͜t̸̛̜̼̫͈̥͍̹͉̄̂͊͂̈̍͠ ̸̧̦̻̻̟̘̥̩̫̮̀̈̔ȩ̶̡̰̜͕̪̓̐͗̅̀͝͝͠x̸̖̝̮͈̬̘̤̌i̸̹̞̩̖͚͔̙̥̮̟͂͗̈̽̌̀̿̾͗͠ş̵̘̜̼̞̬̗̜̬͓́̐̀̅̄̒̎̑̑̏t̴͎̝̎͒̓̿̌̑͒̊͠ ̴̳̦̹͕̣̪̥͍̣̻̃͠f̵̛͍̣̥̮̣̩͗̓̒̄̄͜͝ǫ̷̰̘͚͎͔̜̣͇̑͊̏̀́̀͋͘͝r̷̛̯̰̺̺̈́͆́̔́͋̿̀͜ ̸̫̠́͐y̸̡̖̤̲̬̲̞͚̲͇̑o̶̢̤̦̔̇̇̇̈́̈͌̚͠u̵͎̣͙͕̮̾͋̀̽̉͗̂͋̕͠ ̵͚̼̮̗̜̈́͌̈͆̅̈́w̶͈̠̹͗̀́͌̇͋̽͘͝͠e̴͈̳̋̀͐͒̈̾ ̴̗̩͌̓̎͐̉͠d̵͚͙̹̜͕̩̀o̴̡̯̟̙̦̘̘͎̰̰͂ ̷̨̯̫̻̣̼͑̃̀͒̔̓ň̶̨̞̝̱̳̳̹͕͝ơ̸̼̞̫̄̃̅̈́̏͋̎̚͠ţ̴̢̢̨̫͙̭͕̻̻̓̆ ̷̥̒̆̿̋̾̈́̔͠e̵̼̻͚̠͎͍̹̊́͌̈̄̑͜x̷͕͕͇̠̫͍͊̏̓̓̅͘í̷̡͎͕̞̺̣̬̼͈͋͑̒s̶̥̰̮̳̙̥͌̌͌̿̍̆͠͝͠t̸̝̲̙̯͕̀̈́̄̂̂̈́͝ ̶̠̘̂̀̍͌͐͌f̴͍̙͉̭̤̓̿̓̉̊͒͘͝o̵͇̣̲̼͚̗̺͔̤̔͜r̴͚̄̅̀̊̒͌̀͠͠͝ ̷̤̘̣̰̒̀͊̽y̵̦̞͓̏̌͛̌̆ö̷̢̧͙͔̺̰͔́͜ű̷͖̹͛͜ ̶͚͖͙̜͕̞̦̘̰̹̾̀̿̓̄͒̑w̴̛͓̦͎͂̎̓̄́è̵͙͍̙̹̻̗̬͎͚̘͋̅͗͂̔́̄̊ ̴̰̏̚ḑ̴̨͔̘͔͙̖̓̔͂̽̿̕͜ơ̵̘̙̠͍͙̇͊̓̚͘ ̸̧̢̰̗͙͙͙͓̃͐̋̃̽n̷̢͛̈́ọ̶̡̰͎̟̩̖̀̌̈̀͝ͅt̴̡̡͇͙͙̙̪̹͗̈́̇͌͘͠͠͝ ̶̖̪̄̉̂͐̀e̶̢̧͖̣̘͇̫̦̰̒x̶̢̯̼̩̠̠̭̫̆̔͆̂̑̊̉̈́̈́͝i̶̛̜̊́́̾̀̀̊̌̎s̵̥͈̥̿ẗ̷̡̤̗̠́̉̏̿̆̓̉ ̷̨̡̫̤̪̦̰͕̦̣́́͐f̷̬̳̉͐̅̃ͅǫ̸͎͕̬̬̭̞̩̮̺̎r̷̳̝͉̄́̈́̈́͐̇͌̊̆͝ͅͅ ̸̰̲̟͔͎̜̗͓̐̾͑̈̇͋͘͝͝ÿ̵̯̝͓̺͊̒͛̄͐͜͝ơ̵̮̣̟̞̯͉̗̝̞̋ŭ̸͉̝̃͂̑ ̴͚̖̤͒́̈̋͒͜͝ẅ̵̨̧̨̻̭̬̻́ë̵̱́̐̆ ̵̺̪͖͍̾̍͒͋̽̋̇̔̉͝d̸̬̒o̶̡̟͖͚̖̖͖͕̎̑́̍̐́̊ ̸̹̪̳̣̮̰̍̉̇̋͒̀̆͘͜͜n̶̩͌̒͊̓ȯ̷͈̯͇͘t̴̨͍̝̲̹͍͎̎̒͘̚͝ ̴̯͓͇̜̝̥̝̳̖͔́̓̐e̷̢̲̻̥̭̖̻̗͙̰͆͐ẍ̶̢̖̬̼͖̘̞́̈́̃̍͐̎̈́̚͝ì̴̧̨̡̛͍̼̼͉̰̣̓̃̅̓̓̓̈́͑ş̴̜͈̤̯̟̐̽̒̔̿͌̆͋ţ̴̨̧̠͇̯͓̗̀̋̏̐͗͂͗̈͝ͅ ̷̯͌̈̓f̸̮̯͙̞̦̺̖̥̽��͚ő̴̠̹̦̋̽̊͋͑̚͝͝ͅr̶͔̮͊͛̒̑̃̒̃̚͝ ̵̨̝̗̙͂̌y̷̭̗͍̦̬͔̻̌̒͐̇o̷̗̓̊́̈̅͝ũ̴̜ ̵̫̪̘̮̞̘̏̽͑w̷̛̛͔͓̤̯̘͓̜̄̾͐̒̓ͅe̷̡̧̼͈̯̭͎͚̫̓̿̃̈́́̈́̎̌̊̈́ ̵̡̘̹͔͂͘ͅͅd̵̘̭̃͛͗͘͜

Shortly after this statement my recording equipment began to melt.

Suffice to say there will be no easy answers for the question of how far political correctness should go, and for now the questions will continue to be pondered, every angle (and then some) explored, and every opinion fought for in their own right.

[misskittysmagicportal]

All You’ve Got Is Gold Part 1

FandomAU!: Billy Delaney/Cormac McNamara x Female OC

Warnings: Slight NSFW, mostly steamy fluff.  Guys this ended up being long as fuck.  And it’s really only chapter one. Or Part 1.

Jeanie leaned over the bar at Ewan's to pour herself another whiskey, ignoring the bartender as he chastised her. "C'mon lass, don't the wee ones file in to the grounds tomorrow?"

"Wee?" she gulped around her swallow. "Ewan, they're pubescent. You know me though, I like to have a bit of a glow every new semester. That way the parents think I'm truly invested in the well-being of the brats." Jean waved her glass around in the air. "Ok, not brats. Most of them are well-behaved and genuinely interested in learning. Not like the little bastards in America. I'd have 40 to a classroom back there. Saint Fergus barely has 40 students in the entire school."

Ewan took it as a sign and gave her a generous pour one more time, "Heard you cannae keep any professors for the pay. But your husband-"

"EX. As of last spring," Jean corrected.

"EX-husband found some new blood in a few of his University students."

"Aye," Jeanie imitated the Scottish brogue with perfection. "They're all in the corner over there with Dr Purves now."

She had half a decade to assimilate to the culture of the small, boring town just outside of Aberdeen where she followed Gordon and married him without any family or a job. He became head of the Physics and STEM department at the University of Aberdeen, working on projects and female students alike. Jeanie, having abandoned her Master's in Education, was really only qualified to student-teach at a local boarding school. Before long, lack of interest and the economy drove the numbers down to four or five dozen and a position of Headmistress open. At least it was a place to live and an existence that kept her mind off everything else.

"I would say don't look now, because here comes one of his students, but my darling who can keep their eyes off him." Ewan pointed behind his friend with damn near literal hearts in his eyes.

Jeanie glanced over her shoulder as a young man, early 20s? She couldn't tell. But he approached her at the bar. Her first glance became a double, and nearly a stare. Embarrassed, she whipped her head around quickly and blushed in Ewan's general direction. "Sweet Virgin Mary," she exhaled under her breath.

"I normally go by Delaney, but I suppose in certain company Mary will do," a soft Irish lilt.

Jean slow blinked as the bartender broke into a cheshire grin. She took a deep breath and turned towards the man now beside her and held out her hand. Blood pulsing in her ears because.. he was stunning. "Brave of a Celt to set foot in the land of Picts. Even braver for him to be in the presence of the biggest asshole in all of Scotland."

"Well from what I've heard she's more of an Ice Queen than an asshole," he squinted before smiling brightly. Green eyes sparkling in the low light of the bar. "Your.. partner put me up to it anyways. You know, say the bit about the ice. Sorry," he blushed but still held on to her hand firmly. "I've heard you're rather pleasant from the others. Just aloof as it were"

"EX!" Ewan and Jean exclaimed together, and the young man blinked responsively. "No sorries. Cold-hearted bitch is what some of the 6th years call me when I confiscate their illegals. Headmistress Jean Turner, but the two friends I have call me Jeanie. Drink?"

"Just one? I'll take 5. I have to catch up with the others." He hooked a thumb at the group of obnoxious men groping the female students who hung off of them as if they were celebrities. Taking what he was offered, chugging it quickly and shuddering. "Billy. Delaney it is. Well occasionally."

Jeanie and Ewan watched as he basically pounded every shot placed in front of them. Squinting off and on, as if he was trying to adjust to the ambiance. "Is it hot? It's hot in here. God I hate people. Those people. I will never fit in with the misogynists and knobs who prefer rugby and football to actually learning about the world." He pulled at the collar of his sweater before taking it off and draping it over Jeanie's chair. He wore a striped tee shirt underneath "Sorry. Sorry. I've got my nose in tech and books and maths algorithms most days. I forget how to socialize, so I really just want to blend in with the norms."

"You.. are.. fit." Ewan sputtered.

Billy snapped back to attention, his mind having drifted off to the same group Jeanie's eyes kept staring at. "What?"

"He's saying you are fucking fit, mate" Jeanie gaped.

"My body? I'm not really certain about that. I'm rather spindly wouldn't you say?” he shrugged while his cheeks flushed profusely. "My arms? Is it my arms? I swim. Clears my head from all the clutter." He was rambling now.

Jeanie and Ewan started laughing. "Relax! we're taking the piss, love. Your every move is being scrutinized. Now why abouts did Dr Purves send you over here? Surely he has fucking with me on his mind. Not unusual, humiliation has always been the name of the game."

Billy made a gesture that resembled adjusting non-existent glasses. He immediately dropped his hand and pulled a tenner out of his pocket. "To melt the ice, Gordon said. He gave me ten quid to hit on you."

"One of his students. What a lovely parting gift. I guess you're worth the loss of the house and the car," Jeanie stood back slightly to properly size him up.

Billy bit the entirety of his bottom lip, furrowing his brows, "I reckon you're worth more than a tenner to sleep with."

Jeanie blinked a few times, head tilted to the side to make sure she heard correctly. "SEX?!" she laughed, unable to help herself. "I don't exactly know what all of this," she waved her hand down his body, "would be doing even in the vicinity of sleeping with this," pointing to her own.

Confusion came over his face, "Am I supposed to be.. Is there something wrong with you that I don't notice? I, I can be kind of oblivious to loads. I think, really, Gordon goaded me into coming over here for my benefit as much as his amusement. I don't have too much experience, but you seem quite lovely you know. Your hair is," brows furrowed again but in thought, "Nicely red in this lighting. Reminds me of my friend from Ireland. Hannah."

Jeanie pinched the bridge of her nose as Ewan audibly guffawed from beside her. "Saints preserve us," the Scotsman said between gasps for air. "Donnae if you are taking the piss now, bloke, or are you really this bad at pulling birds."

Billy grimaced, the entirety of his face beet red. "Honestly, I never make it this far. I guess they usually pull me and I let them?" He started to fan his face, "seriously,,how fucking hot do you keep this pub?" His forehead bent forward to rest on the metal and wood counter of the bar.

Ewan covered his mouth and ruffled the curly head in front of him. "What a wee babby, Dr Purves sent into the lion's den. You just drank half a bottle of my best whiskey and mortified yourself in front of my favorite woman in this whole country. Maybe you ought to drink some water and have a sit for a few. We'll give you something to take to the bell-end in the back."

Jeanie and Ewan's eyes met, and she bit back a smile before leaning over to wrap an arm around her husband's latest protege. "Oh Ewan, I don't think it should be only a story. Why not give the evil genius a bit of a show. Right now he can see Mr Delaney is headed towards a spectacular crash. Im embarrassed. Mr Delaney's embarrassed. You're without very expensive whiskey. Gordon will never let anyone live this down for the semester."

She put her mouth near Billy's ear, "Ten quid is worth SOMETHING. Don't you think? Just look at me." He obliged quicker than she expected. Emerald eyes gazed upwards at her while the heart banged wildly in her chest. "What comes next?"

"I reckon I ought to put my arm on your waist. Right?" his voice now low in her ear and a hand slipped around her hips to draw her as close as possible.

No further guidance was needed as the liquid courage kicked in. Billy stood up and took Jeanie's face in his large hands before he drew her into a rather passionate kiss. Hers instinctively buried in his hair, their tongues dancing as the thought he hustled her entered the back of her mind. How was it that just a few minutes ago he looked ready to vomit at the thought of trying to come on to anyone, not just her. Now he was kissing her like they were Hugh Grant and Julia Roberts. Jeanie’s back slightly arched as Billy dominated her personal space with his height, a hand dangerously on the curve of her backside.

Ewan held his own face, eyebrows lost in his bangs as he watched the two of them go at it for well, he lost time. Glancing up he noticed just about everyone else in the pub was watching too. Gordon positively green with envy and turning purple with anger. Ewan saw him lean to a colleague and mouth, "That wasn't the fucking deal."

"Job done you two," he cleared his throat and practically shouted to break them up.

Jeanie's mouth was cold as it kissed the air. Billy had stumbled backwards a bit, mouth turned down ever slightly in a whoops motion. He walked, swayed really and floated by every single patron, including the group of men he came in with earlier. Fingers pulled at his bottom lip before he passed a devilish grin over his shoulder in Gordon's direction.

Jeanie and Ewan gobsmacked, but pleasantly amused, looked at one another. Mischief in their eyes as Jeanie noticed Billy's sweater draped over the bar. "Mr Balderston, I think I have a grad student to visit this week. It seems Mr Delaney might need his sweater because the Scottish nights get awfully cold."

Orientation came and went, and the students seemed to settle in quicker than normal.  Quite possibly because this was the lowest attendance in the school’s 150 year history.  They had been in danger of shut down, but Jeanie was informed that first Monday by the Board of Directors that an anonymous group of donors had decided, against their wishes, to purchase the school.  Even if no students came back the following school year, or they were down to only 15 or 10 or 5, Saint Fergus would remain open for unknown reasons.  

To say she was relieved was an understatement for Jeanie.  Much needed repairs were being made, and someone had come to put together a state of the art security system.  Which really confused the faculty and dwindling staff.  Who would steal anything from this junk heap?  Even their books were falling apart.  Except they weren’t.  

By the end of the first week, the girls in their dormitories and in the hallways were abuzz with brand new Literature and Maths books.  They were suddenly interested in Oscar Wilde and Pythagoras.  Jeanie watched as three 4th years sat in the windowsill and audibly cracked open their copies of “The Happy Prince,” stars in their eyes.  

“Have you ever seen anyone as good looking as Dr McNamara?  Honestly, I don’t know how I’ll pay attention to anything else but that voice,” she held her book against her chest.

“Oh c’mon Siobhan.  It’s all about the eyes.  I don’t think I’ve seen anything like them.  Proper green.  If he sticks around, I’ll tell Daddy to talk to all of his barrister friends. Get them to enroll their kids here next year.” 

The third girl was clearly in a daydream out the window, “All I heard today was blah blah blah ‘important in oratory history of Ireland’ blah blah.  Lemme tell you, he can give me an oral exam any day.”

Jeanie cleared her throat and the students jumped nearly a mile high.  “It would do you girls a kindness not to sexually harass our newest teacher at Saint Fergus.”  The smallest hint of a smile on her lips.  “Honestly, how is it that I'm headmistress here and have no bloody clue who this mysterious Dr McNamara is?”

“Well rumor has it, Miss, that he bought the school.  Dr Purves hired him for a project at the uni, and he asked to be right in the thick of the school.”  Siobhan shrugged.

“What do you mean?” 

“Oh he’s installing the security system and having a new science laboratory built,” the daydreaming girl chimed in.

“I thought it was a grad student that was teaching here this semester?  Have any of you heard the name Billy Delaney?  I’ve been looking for him the last week or so, but I can't find him in Aberdeen housing.  I’d like to return his sweater.”  Jeanie’s face flushed pink, and the girls all cast a knowing grin in her direction.

“Has Miss got a crush herself?” Siobhan teased.  “There’s no student teachers this year, but did you say Billy Delaney?”  

“Yes.  Does that name sound familiar to you too?”  

The girls stood and handed Jeanie paperback books one by one.  A stack of them, young adult novels that had grown incredibly popular the last few years.  A stone wall with a glowing green and gold light graced the cover.  “A Green Pool of Light: Emerald City to Oz  Book 1” blazed across the top in that standard stereotyped font that represented all things Irish.  The daydreaming girl, Aila Jeanie would come to find out, opened her copy and ran a finger down the page.  “Yeah, he’s like a gender bent Hermione in these books.” 

Jeanie frowned and flipped through the pages.  The girls all started to laugh, not mean-hearted but in the way kids do at adults when they become lost in the world of anyone under 20.  “That’s Dr McNamara, Miss Turner, and he’s living in the Boys Dorms.”

Jeanie blinked a few times, too many times in disbelief.  The girls dissolved into hysterics and headed off to their next set of classes.  Things maybe just got a bit easier but harder at the same time.

--------------------------------------

Jeanie stared incredulously at herself in the mirror.  When exactly was the last time she showed up to any man’s room wearing only a coat and her underwear?  Or well, a sweater in this case.  She waited until the school was dark and quiet, she couldn’t risk one of the students seeing her dressed this way.  On her way to do a dance of seduction.  No, that’s humiliating.  This was all humiliating.  

What in the hell am I  even doing? She thought.  But it was too late, her legs carried her into the halls and across the floors and up into the West Wing where the boys slept. Tip-toeing quick and stealthy to the only source of light on this side of the school.  

Jeanie took a deep breath and knocked on the open door.  His back was to her, sitting with one foot up on the chair, a knee drawn up to his chest in the most awkward of positions.  His dark head was bent over an abundance of little digital boxes spread across a desk that he tinkered with under a magnifying glass.  Several computers and laptops spread around the room running codes attached to various projects simultaneously.  Lost in his work, he ignored her.

Sighing heavily, Jeanie knocked louder this time.  She raised one hand up the door frame, leaning in the most tempting pose she could muster at 11pm on a Thursday.  His head popped up, and he only glanced over his shoulder in her direction before going back to his work.  

“Well took ye long enough to find me, Miss Turner.  Wanna see what I’ve put together for the school?”  he queried without paying any attention to her attire.  

Jeanie felt the bile rise in her throat.  How in the hell was she ever going to feel better about herself when this man wouldn’t even acknowledge her?  Was it too late to just slip back down in the shadows and melt away like she never existed?  Still she took a breath and made her way to the desk and stopped directly behind him.  She bent forward over his shoulder, her hair brushed against his face and neck.  There was a nearly inaudible hitch in his breathing as she picked up one of the boxes.  Did she make him nervous?  Good, she thought and chewed her lip to prevent a smirk sneaking through.

“Well Mr Delaney.  Or is it McNamara?” She studied the box carefully and poked at it with her nail.

“Doctor” he interjected huskily.  He was nervous.  “I’ve got a PhD,” he corrected.

“Are you even old enough for a doctorate?!” she retorted.

“I’m 24, thank you very much.  I suppose that’s quite young to have several PhDs, but I don’t really keep track.  If it makes you feel better, I'm also a chef. Cooking is just science after all,” he said almost dismissively.    “Oh, That is L.I.S.A. you’re holding.  Large-scale Interface Security Application.”

Jeanie snorted; she couldn't help it.   “Do you mean an alarm system?”

“No it’s a specified security application that only I know how to program and,” he caught himself.  “Yes.  It’s an alarm system.”  He rolled his eyes and gently took the machine back from her and placed it amongst the others.

“If you're working with Gordon on some kind of secret project, why are you teaching Literature?” Jeanie launched into everything without really meaning to. “You know Dr Delaney or whoever the hell you are, several of the girls brought to my attention that there’s a character in those young adult novels written by Hannah O'Flaherty. “A Pool of Green Light?” They are quite popular with our 1st-4th years.  You're Billy Delaney aren't you?  That’s why you gave that name in the pub the other night instead of your real name.  That being Cormac McNamara, am I correct?”  She placed her hands on hips hidden in the mass of wool and cable knit.  

"Delaney is part of my last name. Hyphenated.” once again correcting the headmistress.

 "Don't see much of that in men" 

"Well it and my brain are about all my parents left me,” he moved to face his chair towards Jeanie and abandon his project. 

 "Well I bet they're proud of you, Cormac. Or Billy.  Whatever.” she waved her hand dismissively.  “You lot discovered.. what's it called?" 

"Dimensional Dark Matter Transport with the possibility of Inter and Temporal" 

"I mean, Portals. Or to put it in tv nerd terms: Beam me up Scotty" 

"Precisely!” Cormac exclaimed and stood up excitedly.  “And your ex-boyfriend-" 

"Husband" 

“Yes, husband.  Well couldn't have been good at it if he's your ex.” He bit a finger absently, staring off towards the ceiling.  Then snapped back to attention quickly,  “Well he wants to find a way to make it.. Portable. Not just in plotted locations around the globe. And my business partners, em Hannah and Brett if you will, would like it privatized. Dr Purves, he wants the highest bidder." 

"Military?” Jeanie blanched at the thought.  Then her voice drifted off, “So the books ARE real.. You three are real.  Hannah hid the stories in plain sight for the entire world to discover"  And for the first time, she noticed a framed photo on the vast desk.  A trio of happy young people: red-headed girl, pretty with large blue eyes.  A floppy haired, tan surfer type.  And a tall, lanky boy with oval glasses and severely parted hair starting to curl.  Jeanie took the frame and traced her fingertip along the glass. “Sarah, Zack and Billy.  This is like finding out Harry, Ron and Hermione are living, breathing people.  And here you are, in my school.”

"I could show you if you want but.. Miss Turner, why are you only in a sweater?" Cormac stepped back and lifted his glasses and put them back down. He took them off hurriedly as if he was embarrassed to be wearing them.  Turning once more to face her "Is.. Is that MY sweater? You're only in. Jeanie, Where are your pants?" 

"Well I planned on seducing you Mr.." 

"Doctor" -

Jeanie sighed as if she had been defeated, "DOCTOR Delaney-McNamara" 

"Well Ive mucked that up I suppose,” a deep crimson set across his ears.

" I mean you can have your sweater back,” Jeanie arched an eyebrow seductively. Pulling the sweater over her head to reveal only a pair of her nicest black panties and bra underneath.  Nothing else.

"Thank you it's quite my favorite-" Cormac’s eyes widened when he noticed the headmistress in front of him wearing nothing but lingerie.  He squinted briefly while scratching his head.  “Oh.. Jeanie. That’s..” his voice drifted off lost in shock.

Ignoring the embarrassment growing in her chest, Jeanie crossed her arms over her chest.  “Why in the hell did you take your glasses off?”

“Oh, em.. Hannah always tells me I’m far more attractive without them.” he shrugged.

“Just like how Clark Kent is only slightly, by a molecule,” Jeanie pinched her fingers together, “less sexy than Superman with his glasses" 

"But his glasses are fake,” Cormac ignored the obvious joke.  “Right now I can just see shapes. Lovely, curved shapes! but only shapes." waving a hand in her general direction again.

Jeanie sat down on his bed without the sweater, to protect her now she just decided to go with her original plan. She crossed her long legs and leaned back with one hand back on the mattress. "Ok give us a look with the glasses on, Delaney.. Mcnamara?" This was frustrating.

"No, I reckon I'll have the kids call me Cormac" his hands on thin hips as he glanced upwards in thought

"Yes, erase that line of authority between yourself and 11-15 year olds. Don't underestimate them, Billy.  Or Cormac.  Or whatever.  You are probably the smartest professor Saint Fergus has ever had, but you’re handsome.  My girls will eat you alive" 

"I wouldn't go that far!" he was exasperated for some reason. 

"You have five PhDs and can’t even legally rent a car in America yet," Jeanie pointed out. 

Cormac waved her off dismissively.  “No!  Not the smart or genius part.  That is true,” he agreed without pretension. “It’s the handsome part,” he rolled his eyes in frustration.  

“Look McNamara, I can’t tell if you’re being humble or an asshole.  Your constant squinting and inflamed cheeks are ruining my perception.”

"Inflamed.." he touched his face  "It's rather distracting. You in your.  I may realize now that's your intent. I'm not really NEW to this, uh women coming on to me. It's just not always quite so forward?"

 "Had I known you were a doctor of  Quantum Mechanics, my approach would be a little less intense. 10 quid or not, you were the one kissing me last night." Jeanie got up off the bed "Ill go, but can I take your sweater with me? The students don't need to see this" 

"Oh, em do ya have to? You're already here, and I'm sure quite lovely to look at." 

"Cormac put your glasses on" 

"Really?" he was adorably confused "I would have to take them off if we-" 

"Have sex?" 

"I didn't mean to imply- I've never really-" he nervously put his glasses back on. Then started fiddling with his hands and chewing on one. 

"No fucking way!” Jeanie sat up quickly “But you're-" 

"Oh please don't say hot." 

"Well-travelled?"

"I am not completely virginal, I'll have ye know! I've done tings. SEXY tings. I've put my mouth and fingers in places on a woman. I'm just picky about where I’d put my penis."  

Jeanie’s amused now, she can’t help it. An eyebrow raised and a laugh ready to escape because he's pacing around and gesticulating wildly now. "Are.. are you getting more Irish?" 

"MAYBE I AM!" he shouted louder than he meant to, then unexpectedly pulled his shirt over his head.

Jeanie laughed at the absurdity now. "Cormac. Or Billy, whatever you are more comfortable with." She kneeled on the bed coming to the edge of it. "We don't have to do this. I'm not asking you to justify your virginity; that your business. It’s a patriarchal construct anyways to make us feel like we have to engage in sexual activity.  Then when we do, we’re trash.  It’s a no-win situation for anyone. I LIKE you. We have all school year to get to know one another better."

“I think Dr Delaney-McNamara, but Cormac works just fine for you” his tone all at once softer and deeper.  

There was a weird electricity in the air, which very well could have been the obscene amount of tech equipment in the small dorm room.  It could have also been that the atmosphere switched so fast from mortification to that moment your body knows something is going to happen.  Jeanie’s head began to swim when she realized the young man in front of her was unbuttoning his jeans to step out of them.  

“Bloody hell...” was all she could utter before he wrapped her up in his arms.  

Jeanie’s hand on Cormac’s hip and the other tangled in his hair as they found themselves in another kiss.  Mouths dancing together.  She sat back and pulled him down so that he was laying completely on top of her now.  His skin was hot almost like a sunburn.  Somewhere, in the back of her mind, Jeanie thought maybe a literal electricity had settled in him from using the portals so often all these years. Their tongues pushed back and forth, she realized his body began to feel similar to one of those static glass balls.  The kind you press your hand against and every single hair on your body raises?  It was strange and exhilarating and comical all at once. 

The thought was fleeting though because Cormac’s lips made its way down Jeanie’s neck.  The breath caught in her throat as he bit softly before trailing to her chest.  His large hand gripped the flesh of her hip, snaking it around to grab at her backside before settling it between her thighs.  The other struggled to unhook her bra while in their current position, his annoyance eliciting a giggle.  

Managing to roll them so that she was on top now, Jeanie deftly reached behind herself to finish the job.  Her breasts free, Cormac took one in his mouth.  His tongue was warm against her skin as he began to suck and lick at a nipple and the flesh around it.  Alternating between each hungrily, hand still lost in between her thighs.  A  finger began to trace the fabric of her panties.  

Audible gasp now, as Jeanie fumbled to reciprocate any way she could.  Kissing his forehead?  or rocking her hips against his hand, she began to float outside of her body. What was she doing?  Trying to feel wanted after all of this time?  Maybe give the other adults something to gossip about over the weekend.  Attractive new professor, the benefactor of Saint Fergus, fucking the boss his first week in.  Jeanie was his boss, but also his subordinate?  Because Cormac, with Brett and Hannah, owned her livelihood now.  

“What a fine mess we’re in, Delaney,” she managed amongst the new spate of kisses.  

Ignoring Jeanie’s frank statement, Cormac took to nibbling her throat again. Exchanging now for harder bites, just enough to let her know he had the upper hand. Fingers deftly pumping rhythmically with the pulsating of her body. He found that part of her with ease. The button Gordon never could without neon arrows. 

“I walked through an alien portal at sixteen and made one of the greatest scientific discoveries none of us can talk about,” That Irish lilt heavy in her ear. “A fine mess has been the last decade of my life, Ms. Turner.”   

There was almost a reckless abandon as Jeanie unexpectedly came. She cried out; it echoed off the dorm walls briefly before Cormac clamped a hand over her mouth. Their eyes both wide before they lost themselves in a fit of giggles. 

Lying beside each other now on the bed, Jeanie felt self-conscious while Cormac absently twirled a finger in her mass of red hair. She felt his green eyes staring as she traced the infinity symbol with the tip of a nail on his chest. Their breathing patterns quickly marched in time together.

“Not sure why I have a gut feeling your timidity was a fucking game,” Jeanie spoke without a hint of anger. More like curiosity. 

“Only just a little. I am far more capable of handling people in small doses.  There's a  certain anxiety hanging around the average university student. I finished undergrad in a year and graduate school in another. Never really fit in with most people my age. I thrived in a boarding college like this one. Never more than 15 children a class. Miss Murphy let me do as I please because I kept mostly to myself, even when she and the others were strangely codependent on my brain.”  

Cormac’s eyes still trained on Jeanie while he spoke. “I didn't mind. I DON'T mind. My tinkering and projects work bloody fantastic now!” he exclaimed with pride. Those long fingers combed through Jeanie's hair. His gaze became nostalgic, “I transferred my AI tech into the lab at Aberdeen.  There's my  personal version.  She's asleep right now,” he chuckled, gesturing towards the wall of monitors. 

Jeanie grimaced, “She?!” 

“Oh yes! SILVIA! I suppose she'll become LISA’s big sister.” 

“You invented a primitive android.” her response was incredulous.

“No no. SILVIA was a lie detector I installed artificial intelligence in to play ch-..” Cormac caught himself. For the hundredth time that evening, “I suppose. Yes,” he tapped a finger against the soft dimple in his cheek. 

“You suppose!” Jeanie reeled with laughter once more.  

Cormac’s face flushed pink, “You know what I did to you was just basic anatomy that’s easily taught by reading a damn book. I reckon you'd be interested in what else reading has taught me about a woman's body.”

And so it began.