ROUND ONE: Unfilled and Overflow
ROUND ONE
OVERFLOW AND UNFILLED PROMPTS POST
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OVERFLOW AND UNFILLED PROMPTS POST
DO NOT post prompts here. This is NOT an active Round.
DO NOT post Fills or Updates here if they AREN'T for Round One prompts.
If you want to CONTINUE UPDATING a WIP:1) Make a new comment, copy the original prompt's Subject Line (add any pairings, kinks and warnings that may be missing) followed by ( Read more... )
University / boarding school AU. Erik and Charles are both professors. Awkward courtship and happy ending, please :)
I've never been to boarding school, so here's a university AU! :>
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Erik was putting the final touches to his presentation for the afternoon with one of his graduate students, a girl named Raven. Good student, Raven is, and she is currently working on her thesis while assisting him in his own research. She is the closest thing that Erik can call as his “favorite student,” and he has recommended that she be employed by the university’s literature department as an instructor next term.
“Will you blow this part up,” Erik said, pointing to the image of three Southeast Asian ladies going to an exclusive circus show in the 1910’s on the bottom of the yellowing newspaper page he has scanned in. “And will you clean it up while you’re at it?”
“Of course,” Raven said. He knew she majored in art for her undergraduate degree, with literature as her minor, but has elected to focus her graduate studies in literature. She has been very helpful with his archival research presentations-cleaning up images and making his Powerpoint presentations a whole lot more interesting to the audience. Erik is sincerely interested in the direction Raven is taking with her research-which is mapping the narrative archetypes and structures of modern comic books-and she is a very pleasant girl, not to mention being very patient with his numerous assignments and, sometimes, his shifting moods. Pleasant and smart, with a critical mind and an intellectual curiosity about a lot of things. He wished many of his students can be like her, and not vapid little beings who are seriously wasting their parents’ money partying and drinking themselves to an early death.
“What will I do without you?” Erik knew he can quote medieval European literature verbatim and provide the most eloquent reading of trashy contemporary romance, but he is practically useless in these Photoshop-Powerpoint-computer things. Not to mention that since Raven has been helping him with his presentations, none of the audience (most of them bullied into attending Dr. Lehnsherr’s stuffy presentations by the other lit professors) has professed to slit their own throat in boredom (which a couple of students already did, Erik heard them outside the auditorium).
“Be horribly boring,” Raven answered. “But all these archival thingies are quite amazing. No, wipe that look off your face, Doctor. I won’t sift through your collection of moldy periodicals for you.”
“And I thought you are well on your way to scholarly greatness. I’ll buy you dinner later, unless you’re otherwise engaged?”
“Actually, my brother’s flying in from England tonight. I have to pick him up at the airport, or he’ll get himself hacked to pieces by a serial killer cabbie.”
“I didn’t know you have a brother,” Erik said lightly as he ran through the essay he wrote for the afternoon’s presentation.
“The subject’s never come up until now, don’t beat yourself up for forgetting things about me,” Raven laughed. Erik has an elephant’s memory about a lot of things, but details about other people’s lives are his weakest point. He hated forgetting about things, though-especially about people he would like to believe are his friends. “You should meet my brother. You’ll like him. He likes his musty dusty books, too. He’s went through the ancient libraries of Europe for the last few years, you’ll have plenty of things to talk about.”
Erik laughed. “We’ll see.”
“So what about we pick up my brother tonight and have dinner together?”
“You kids will have a lot of catching up to do, I don’t want to get in the way.”
“But I do love the restaurants you take me to,” Raven grinned.
“We can reschedule. Can you make the pages less yellow? And remove some of these brown spots here, those tropical libraries ought to keep their old periodicals in temperature-controlled rooms.”
“Yep, I think you and my brother will get along splendidly.”
Erik doubted that.
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One of the former seconding anons is eagerly awaiting for more. Thank you!
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Charles liked Europe and the smell of cold, old stone that housed its ancient libraries. Raven thought it was weird of him to have grown up in a mansion of cold, old stone and still the sight, smell, and feeling of it. But as much as he liked Europe and the smell of old stone, he has been offered a teaching post in a good university back home in New York. His sister is completing her master’s degree in the same university, and he will be able to do something he enjoys without living so far away from Raven.
He was teaching part-time in England-critical theory, which Raven thought was the most boring subject he could teach-and he had been feeling rather antsy about being appointed as an associate professor in the university he was teaching in. The department chairman, an American named Dr. Sebastian Shaw, was not very fond of him and had been vetoing any nomination done in his favor. Charles was resigned to just being an instructor even if he has finished his dissertation-after all, he was much younger than Dr. Shaw, and that man would not be department chairman forever.
But in the fall of last year, he played host to Dr. Emma Frost, one of Raven’s literature professors in her university. Dr. Frost was a visiting professor in Charles’ London university-but back in New York she was the head of her university’s literature department-and she invited him to become a full-time professor there. He accepted and informed her that he will fly over once the courses he was teaching were finished.
And then there is the matter of a nasty break-up. One of the reasons why Charles insisted on staying in England is because he had a boyfriend-this ruggedly handsome sod of a mechanical engineering professor who he met during one of the university’s attempt to get people from the different colleges and departments “acquainted”-and when that relationship fell apart, Charles was eager to leave both the university and the city he has called home for the last few years. To Charles’ credit, that bastard (no matter how handsome he was) should not have insisted on being more intelligent than Charles is because he can solve difficult equations, which does not matter in real life anyway.
So now, New York. The flight had been tiring, but Charles was looking forward to seeing Raven. He had not seen his sister after the Christmas they spent in Paris with James (the bloody sod who thought it was alright to insult Charles’ intelligence and bring up the issue of his cardigans). It was a disastrous holiday-Raven hated James, and James was not used to Charles paying attention to anyone else-and in hindsight, Charles thought that was the beginning of the disintegration of their relationship. Which was quite sad, really-James was Charles’ first real boyfriend, and as naïve as it sounded even at the beginning of their relationship, Charles thought it would last. He should have known the relationship was bound to go sour when James reacted quite negatively to Charles’ collection of comfortable cardigans. James’ refusal to take care of his own books were another sign, Charles realized, but real life was not a carefully structured piece of fiction. Nothing is foreshadowed and you cannot really tell which one is Chekhov’s gun. If there is something positive that resulted from that relationship (which lasted for a year, three months, two weeks, five days, and nine hours, not that Charles is counting), it was Charles’ bitter realization that life is nothing but a series of random things, random people, and random events. Another naïve belief that Charles carried well into adulthood-the belief in fate and structure and reason and possibly, happiness-debunked.
He flew home with nothing but a copy of Illuminations (Walter Benjamin, not Arthur Rimbaud) and his toothbrush. Everything else he shipped in advance to New York from England, including his collection of both books and cardigans, although he was not sure whether Raven kept the boxes in her apartment or forwarded them to Westchester. The flight was long and tiring, but as soon as he saw Raven waving enthusiastically, all plump cheeks and blond hair and toothy smile, he felt the strain on his body seeping away.
Charles is home.
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They went straight to Raven’s flat from the airport, and Charles felt uncomfortable in the unfamiliar space as soon as his younger sister led him inside her home. Raven visited him in London a couple of times, especially during the holidays, but he really did not make the effort to visit her in New York. Charles thought he would stay in England forever, with James and probably a poodle, and to come home to New York is admitting to some sort of defeat. And this is what this homecoming is all about really-about defeat-his failure to advance in his career as an educator because of a meddling man, and his failed romantic relationship. If his life were a short story or a novel, the fact that he is running toward the arms of a woman-or women, as Dr. Frost was also instrumental in this “journey”-is a kind of irony. Men drove him away from England, women welcomed him in New York. Charles was not sure whether this fact would bode well in the story of his life.
“This is a nice flat,” Charles said aloud, running his finger on a dusty tabletop. “It is quite sad that your housekeeping skills are not as nice.”
“I trust you to get started on the meticulous cleansing of my apartment tomorrow morning,” Raven laughed. “Now which kind of pizza would you like for dinner?”
“I was expecting to be welcomed by your version of one of Mother’s famous dishes, but a large pepperoni pizza would be very lovely,” Charles answered as he sank into Raven’s cushy couch. “As comfortable as your sofa is, I hope I would not be sleeping here tonight.”
“I actually can afford an apartment with a guestroom, Charles. I took the liberty of opening your crates and taking some of your clothes and books here. But only the cool ones. I left all the cardigans and the smelly books in Westchester, where they rightfully belong.”
“Please do not bring up the cardigans,” Charles said. “I love the cardigans and they are comfortable. They are sensible pieces of clothing. And honestly, if you do not accept the cardigans as part of who I am, then-”
“I really hope you didn’t break up with John because of the cardigans. I didn’t like him, but cardigans are a stupid reason for breaking up.”
“James! The sod’s name is James. And we did not break up over my sensible sartorial choices. At least that is the official press release from my side.”
“If you say so,” Raven said, although Charles knew there are few things that he can hide from her and she can read into what he is not saying. “Well, it was that jerk’s loss, anyway. You should meet my thesis mentor.”
“Who? Eric Lehman, Eric Lehnstein…” Charles squinted at his sister. There was something suspicious about the way she inserted the topic in their conversation, but again, his life is not a structured story. This is not a hint that she is planning something devious.
“Lehnsherr! The man’s name is Erik Lehnsherr. I think you should meet him. You’ll get along. And he’s Jewish. You once told me that you liked Jews-Freud, Woody Allen, Stanley Kubrick, Jesus Christ…”
“Those are some fantastic Jews. And Benjamin, Perloff, and Steiner, too, but it does not mean that your Eric Lehman is automatically fantastic because he is a Jew. Does he like cardigans?”
“He likes smelly old books, and it’s Lehnsherr! Honestly Charles, you’re the only person obsessed with cardigans. Other than Great-aunt Mildred.”
“It’s a sensible piece of clothing!”
“If you say so. But I really think you and Erik Lehnsherr will get along quite nicely.”
Charles doubted that.
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i kept imagining james to be james mcavoy. wut. wanted cross-overs, i read them all.
i bet erik has a cardigan kink.
i love this! can't wait for more, anon! :DDDD
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Raven was happy that her brother Charles is back in New York. He had talked about his plans to take up Dr. Frost’s offer to teach critical theory in the university, but he has not even dropped by to see her. Or even drop by the literature department to see where Raven spent most of her time and maybe even meet Dr. Lehnsherr. Once he moved in his cardigans and smelly books into Raven’s apartment, Charles spent most of his time reading and watching cooking shows. Raven hated it when Charles moped, which he did not do on a regular basis, just when he felt disillusioned about his life or what he called his “prospects.”
Raven has this scheme brewing in her head, and it involved setting her brother up with her attractive thesis mentor and see them live happily ever after, get a cat, and maybe adopt a few kids from some third-world country. That John-Jimmy-James jerk was no good for him anyway, and Raven is the only person who should make fun of Charles’ cardigans. Dr. Lehnsherr would be good for Charles. The easiest way to forget an ex-boyfriend is to get a new one. This was one of the best things that their late mother taught Raven, mainly because Sharon Xavier taught by example. Once their father passed away, there were a good number of men that their mother used to forget each last one.
Raven thought it was practical advice, and she followed it quite religiously with her own relationships. But Charles was a hopeless romantic-he believed in the immortality of first love and other such fluffy ideas, even if he tried to deny it. Raven could remember Charles’ first puppy love-Jakob Epstein, a classmate in that snooty all-boys boarding school he attended-and how Charles pined for him well into his early twenties. Then there was the matter of John-Jimmy-James, who was not a Jew (a sign Charles interpreted as true love, as Jakob Epstein was a Jew and so was everyone who he had fervently read and Charles thought his ability to overlook that John-Jimmy-James was not a Jew was very mature of him), but was really ripped and good-looking. At some point, Raven thought Charles is immersing himself in a different version of their mother’s cure to heartaches-by finding someone new to fall in love with (or have sex with, the rules are not very strict on this one). But Raven is dismayed that Charles seems to be enjoying getting mindfucked-well, she is sure there is another more polite term for it, but for the sake of wittiness, she will not be polite-by dead Jewish men, when he could be getting in the pants of her handsome Jewish professor.
To be honest, Raven is not quite sure that Dr. Lehnsherr will like Charles. Or that Charles will like Dr. Lehnsherr. Because her brother’s happiness is more important than finishing the annotated bibliography on her thesis, Raven made a list of why she thinks Dr. Lehnsherr and Charles should be best friends and have sex and get married:
- They both like books
- They both like old books
- Charles likes Jews
- Dr. Lehnsherr likes bright people
- They both have the capacity to bore people to death (Charles with his fascination with dead Jewish men, Dr. Lehnsherr with his archival research fetish)
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Why I think Charles will like Dr. Lehnsherr:
- Dr. Lehnsherr is a Jew.
- Dr. Lehnsherr has a hot body and a very firm ass.
- Dr. Lehnsherr is quite handsome. More handsome than John-Jimmy-James who’s a vain little prick anyway.
- Dr. Lehnsherr likes digging up old books, magazines, and newspapers.
- Dr. Lehnsherr can probably read Walter Benjamin in the original German, which will probably make Charles cream his pants.
This list seems more reasonable than the first one, Raven thought, so she began another list.
Why I think Dr. Lehnsherr will like Charles
- Charles is good-looking. Of course he's good-looking, he’s my brother and ugly doesn't run in our genes.
- Charles can probably understand most of the things Dr. Lehnsherr is always prattling on about. Their future relationship can be a great meeting of the minds or whatever.
- Charles is a slutty drunk. Or he once was.
- Charles will probably make a good housewife. He can’t cook to save his life even if he spends the rest of his life watching Gordon Ramsay and he can’t drive their future kids to soccer practice, but he’s very particular with the way the floors are scrubbed and the books are arranged on the shelves.
Raven set her pen down and mentally patted herself in the back. Now, the only problem is separating Charles from his books and getting him to meet Dr. Lehnsherr. When they finally meet, it would probably be first love and disgusting as it is, they would probably make out in the semi-privacy of Dr. Lehnsherr’s book-filled cubicle.
But somehow, Raven doubted that.
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Raven set her pen down and mentally patted herself in the back. Now, the only problem is separating Charles from his books and getting him to meet Dr. Lehnsherr. When they finally meet, it would probably be love at first sight and disgusting as it is, they would probably make out in the semi-privacy of Dr. Lehnsherr’s book-filled cubicle.
But somehow, Raven doubted that.
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Sorry!
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Yeah, you know what, not if I beat him to it. AND MARJORIE PERLOFF HAHAHA SWEET! I loove your matchmaker Raven very much! Good going, great research, and impeccable taste, old girl.
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Erik was making his fourth cup of coffee in the literature department’s pantry (weak coffee, if he must say, but he was too lazy to run to the coffee shop the university built last year in the main library) when Drs. Frost and MacTaggert cornered him.
“Good morning, Erik,” Dr. Frost greeted him as she reached for the box of chamomile tea.
Erik grunted something with g’s, hoping that would be enough.
“Good morning, Erik,” Dr. MacTaggert echoed with that chirpy voice of hers that Erik did not like hearing in the morning.
Erik turned to her, hoping that the slight quiver of his left eyebrow would suffice as a morning greeting.
“I received the letter you placed on my desk,” Dr. Frost began as she stirred creamer into her tea until it almost reached the color of milk. “About the sabbatical you were planning to take this year?”
“Uh, yes. I was hoping I could take a year off and focus my time on writing something. A book, perhaps.”
“That would be lovely,” Dr. MacTaggert and her bright, annoying, headache inducing voice. “It has been a while since your last collection of poetry.”
“Yes. Have you read the last?” Because I included something about having difficulty going through the rest of the day with hearing your voice so early in the morning, Moira, Erik thought.
“No, you wouldn’t believe how many things I have to read everyday, Erik. As much as I want to sit in the meadows and enjoy your poetry, I haven’t the time.”
“Oh, right,” Dr. Frost looked thoughtful. “Introduction to Creative Writing this term, isn’t it Moira? The one that’s offered for non-lit majors? I imagine you’d have a hard time.”
Erik cleared his throat and gave a fake little cough. “So, Emma, about that sabbatical. Will it be okay or are we going to be understaffed?”
“It will be okay,” Dr. Frost said airily. “We’ll have two new people on the lit team next year.”
“You’ve decided to hire Ms. Xavier?” Erik asked. He really hoped so-having Raven as a colleague will definitely increase the number of people he was genuinely interested in talking to at work. Dr. Frost was tolerable even if she would not stop harping on the analysis of the state of contemporary nonfiction in the country, and he had to admit that he disliked Dr. MacTaggert and her attempts to identify herself with the likes of Simone de Beauvoir, Judith Butler, and Elaine Showalter. Bitch, please.
“She presented two very interesting syllabi that I believe the undergraduate classes will greatly benefit from. Imagine, teaching a literature course on comic books and Harry Peter! Even the non-lit majors will love that!”
“I think it’s Harry Potter,” Erik said his gentlest voice. Which, apparently, was not gentle enough as Dr. Frost’s cheeks pinked a little.
“Oh, I really don’t know what the young people are reading nowadays. It would be exciting to have someone as young as Ms. Xavier teaching in our department. As soon as she completes her master's, of course.”
Erik nodded, and he was aware that he probably looked like a proud parent. “Of course.”
“She’s one of your thesis students, right?” Dr. MacTaggert asked. Every time she spoke to him, Erik wondered if there was a surgical procedure that will bring her voice a couple of octaves down. If there were such a procedure in existence, Erik will donate the proceeds of his next book for it.
“Yes.”
“Ms. Xavier’s thesis defense will be in a few days,” Dr. Frost said. “I’m sure she’ll ace it, but it wouldn’t hurt for her mentor to be present during her big day.”
“Of course,” Erik answered and began to walk away. “I’ll just be at my cubicle if you need me.” He hoped they would not need him for the rest of the day.
“What about the other professor you were thinking of hiring?” Dr. MacTaggert asked Dr. Frost.
“Oh, you’ll like him, Moira. He has this English accent that makes even the likes of Paul Ricœr interesting. Actually, I think even Erik will like him.”
Erik flashed the two ladies a tight-lipped smile, but commented no further. I sincerely doubt that, he thought smugly.
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