HEY PROMPTS [& dr princess whitelaw!]

[screamlet]

HEY Y'ALL.

Any exuberance you might notice bouncing off the metaphorical walls in my general vicinity can be attributed to:

Oh fuck, sparkle text is so far away. ANYWAY TOMORROW I AM SUBMITTING MY THESIS! AND DONE WITH GRAD SCHOOL!

So I am jovial and celebratory and you should prompt me. Check out my tags for something that I haven't churned

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the faerie queene (a dr princess whitelaw snippet, oops)

[screamlet]

WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS I DON'T EVEN

*

Teaching Spenser's The Faerie Queene stands out as one of the weirdest class sessions Chris has ever had.

He sat on the desk in the lecture hall, giving his weekly talk about The Faerie Queene and some shit that's actually not his area, but he will do what Berkeley says for the monies and they say he has to teach the fucking Faerie Queene and make his kids care about it. Whatever. Fine. He did it.

"And if you're interested in more about the women of the medieval epics -- I know there's a few feminist theorists in here -- there's a good book in the library by Anne Paolucci --"

His class, for some reason, giggled collectively at something in the latter part of that sentence. Chris pursed his lips and tilted his head.

"In the library --"

They did it again!

Rather than ask what's so funny (he really doesn't want to know -- for fuck's sake, there is too much on the planet about Christopher Whitelaw Pine to amuse others, especially bitchy 19-year-old English majors -- stories written about him, videos made him about him, songs performed about him, and never fucking mind the terrible goldmine of material about him and Zach), he sat there for a moment and stared them all down.

Library. Oh fuck. They know.

He knew that they knew about Zach taking him to the medieval section of the classical languages wing of the Berkeley library, finding the dustiest out of the way corner that was too old for security cameras (and, let's face it, who would steal this shit?), and knocking his head against a cold metal shelf as he kissed him hard and shoved both hands down his pants, one grabbing his ass and one his dick, because it had been a horrible day and fuck, Chris hadn't fucking cared anymore, and goddammit, let a fucking tour walk by and see Zach stifling his moans by trying to engulf Chris's mouth in his own, because that day had been enough to make him want to act again, or throw himself off something famous, or quit everything and change the occupation on his c.v. to "Professional Cuddler" or something equally hideous and gay.

They hadn't gotten caught, per se, but --

Chris caught the eye of one of his girls -- Annie Horowitz -- and she immediately began to blush and she was the one who wrote a paper on the use of Latin in Spenser and oh fuck, fuck, fuck -- what if she had been there.

Except the library thing with Zach had been months ago at the beginning of the semester and he hadn't been arrested for public indecency or anything yet. Maybe they were laughing because -- he was still young enough and Kirkian enough to pull it off? Maybe -- oh fuck, was he beginning to develop a confidence with his students? What?

"It's in the library. Go to the library. It's a cool and cozy place." They laughed more and exchanged knowing looks with each other and Chris was going to find that Annie girl in like five years and punch her for making him paranoid as hell. There had to be a way of saving it because if he thought about it anymore, eventually he would just panic and freeze or burst into flames or something.

"Oh, man, guys," Chris interrupts himself, "did I ever tell you about the first class I taught? And how some of the kids asked me if the books in the college library were free?"

That was enough to divert a roomful of English majors away from thinking of their teacher having sex in a library, and onto expressing their self-righteous derision at the California school system, and fuck fuck fuck Zach was never allowed to visit him at school again.