Bad Boy (1b/?)
anonymous
March 3 2010, 05:41:30 UTC
He acted like an empty-headed fool but - Arthur had hired his private investigators not even a day after Jones arrived - he held a doctorate in aerospace engineering and a host of lesser degrees. NASA, his source told him, for further flavor, had courted Jones rather aggressively and it was only the Academy’s clout that had kept them from putting US government pressure on the young man to join their team. Arthur was impressed - that was a rare thing - with both Jones, and the money the Academy must have spent just to get him to teach the mob of idiots who were Arthur’s schoolmates. Arthur, of course, did not share this information with anyone else, but other people were interested in Jones as well, and inaccurate versions of the information Arthur had acquired began to spread through the halls.
He was friendly and popular - not in the trying-hard ways of teachers who chased after popularity, for their own egos and for the sake of manipulating their students - but because he genuinely enjoyed the company of the students who, after all, looked hardly any younger than himself, and they genuinely enjoyed his. This might have led to a breakdown in classroom discipline, but Jones clearly knew his stuff, and as clearly was determined to impart it to his students come hell or high water. The students moved from merely liking him to adoring him.
Much to Arthur’s disgust, even he was not immune to Jones’s charm. He had held out impressively long, had erected defenses that no one could claim were less than foreboding. But Jones was concerned about his problem student, Arthur Kirkland, who skipped classes and smoked and cursed at him. He also did not seem the least bit afraid of Arthur.
So Jones followed him around, constantly chattering at Arthur’s scowling head about everything under the sun, ranging from fluid dynamics to the latest Harry Potter flick to the burgers served at the cafeteria that lunch-time. He hunted Arthur out when the boy wanted to ignore school for a little while, and made that manifestly impossible. He had once or twice physically dragged Arthur to class.
What he did not do was lecture Arthur on his many sins, nor did he tearfully plead with him to make a man of himself. The only thing he said about the drinking and the smoking was that he preferred Wild Turkey bourbon to all other things, and that raw egg mixed into a glass of tomato juice was good for hangovers. He never spoke about drugs, not even alluding to them, and his silence spoke volumes of how he felt about the whole thing. He did not tell Arthur how science was a vital area of knowledge - instead he spoke with genuine, hand-waving, jumping excitement about the beauty of orbital mechanics, and the awesomeness that was nuclear fusion reactions inside stars.
And one day, Arthur looked up from his especial hidey-hole in the gymnasium cat-walk, drinking bourbon, an unlit cigarette hanging at the corner of his lips, and did not see Jones - Jonesy, his more irreverent classmates had taken to calling him, and Arthur sneered each time they did - dashing into the gym looking for Arthur, and he felt bereft. Where was Jones? Arthur had been missing almost the whole day! He had deliberately boxed Francis, that frog, on the ear at breakfast! Why wasn’t Jones looking for him? Then he realized he felt bereft, and almost swallowed his cigarette in his shock.
He looked deep in his soul (while coughing up a mouthful of bourbon and a cigarette) and realized certain things. Then his pop-eyed meditation on the soul of Arthur Kirkland, for Arthur Kirkland, by Arthur Kirkland, was interrupted by the rapid tramp-tramp-tramp of Nike-clad feet running into the gym, and Jones caterwauling: “Artiiiiiiie! Come on, you lil’ sonuvagun, where you at? Kirk-kirk-kirky, come on, I’ve got an awesome lesson this afternoon....!”
Bad Boy (1c/?)
anonymous
March 3 2010, 05:42:22 UTC
Great was the joy in Arthur’s heart at that, and equally great was the consternation he felt at that joy. He did not dare raise his head or signal he was there, nor to shout profane things about Jones’ ancestry and sexual appetites as he usually did, but wanted to be left alone to wrestle with his idiotic feelings.
Jones, however, who seemed to be equipped with the nose of a dog as well as the manners and intelligence of one, found him out, and grabbed him and pulled him to class, chattering excitedly about blowing things up in the lab via the magic of chemical reactions, and discussing aloud the wonderful possibility of setting fire to the wooden desks.
Re: Bad Boy (1c/?)
anonymous
March 3 2010, 15:03:58 UTC
This is awesome anon! I was cackling at your writing style, it seems to be very tongue in cheek. ;D I can't wait to see where you're going with this, I love that you made America had a brain and be a cutie (so hot!) and England be the bad boy (a dynamic we need to see more of!) I also really enjoyed France's cameo, I don't know why but I could just see him agonizing over America's bad fashion sense. I especially loved that England was so affected by America (adorable!) I am really enjoying this fill, have bookmarked it for later rereadings already and can't wait for the next chapter!
Re: Bad Boy (1c/?)
anonymous
March 3 2010, 15:08:29 UTC
I'm really glad you enjoyed it! France wasn't supposed to be there at all, but he inserted himself. I'm typing up the next chapter now, so you don't have to wait long. :D
Re: Bad Boy (1c/?)
anonymous
March 3 2010, 23:05:23 UTC
You had me at the first sentence. <3
This was utterly amazing and I'm on the edge of my seat waiting for more! :D Please please please update soon! I adore your characterizations of them both and seriously, that little episode in the gym? Perfect. XD
Re: Bad Boy (1c/?)
anonymous
March 3 2010, 23:36:12 UTC
This is, by far, one of the most beautiful things I have ever read (and it's only just begun...~!!)
The characterization; the descriptions (in particular, "He talked like a mic dragged across the continental Unites States;") the speech patterns and pet names; pure brilliance!
He was friendly and popular - not in the trying-hard ways of teachers who chased after popularity, for their own egos and for the sake of manipulating their students - but because he genuinely enjoyed the company of the students who, after all, looked hardly any younger than himself, and they genuinely enjoyed his. This might have led to a breakdown in classroom discipline, but Jones clearly knew his stuff, and as clearly was determined to impart it to his students come hell or high water. The students moved from merely liking him to adoring him.
Much to Arthur’s disgust, even he was not immune to Jones’s charm. He had held out impressively long, had erected defenses that no one could claim were less than foreboding. But Jones was concerned about his problem student, Arthur Kirkland, who skipped classes and smoked and cursed at him. He also did not seem the least bit afraid of Arthur.
So Jones followed him around, constantly chattering at Arthur’s scowling head about everything under the sun, ranging from fluid dynamics to the latest Harry Potter flick to the burgers served at the cafeteria that lunch-time. He hunted Arthur out when the boy wanted to ignore school for a little while, and made that manifestly impossible. He had once or twice physically dragged Arthur to class.
What he did not do was lecture Arthur on his many sins, nor did he tearfully plead with him to make a man of himself. The only thing he said about the drinking and the smoking was that he preferred Wild Turkey bourbon to all other things, and that raw egg mixed into a glass of tomato juice was good for hangovers. He never spoke about drugs, not even alluding to them, and his silence spoke volumes of how he felt about the whole thing. He did not tell Arthur how science was a vital area of knowledge - instead he spoke with genuine, hand-waving, jumping excitement about the beauty of orbital mechanics, and the awesomeness that was nuclear fusion reactions inside stars.
And one day, Arthur looked up from his especial hidey-hole in the gymnasium cat-walk, drinking bourbon, an unlit cigarette hanging at the corner of his lips, and did not see Jones - Jonesy, his more irreverent classmates had taken to calling him, and Arthur sneered each time they did - dashing into the gym looking for Arthur, and he felt bereft. Where was Jones? Arthur had been missing almost the whole day! He had deliberately boxed Francis, that frog, on the ear at breakfast! Why wasn’t Jones looking for him? Then he realized he felt bereft, and almost swallowed his cigarette in his shock.
He looked deep in his soul (while coughing up a mouthful of bourbon and a cigarette) and realized certain things. Then his pop-eyed meditation on the soul of Arthur Kirkland, for Arthur Kirkland, by Arthur Kirkland, was interrupted by the rapid tramp-tramp-tramp of Nike-clad feet running into the gym, and Jones caterwauling: “Artiiiiiiie! Come on, you lil’ sonuvagun, where you at? Kirk-kirk-kirky, come on, I’ve got an awesome lesson this afternoon....!”
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Jones, however, who seemed to be equipped with the nose of a dog as well as the manners and intelligence of one, found him out, and grabbed him and pulled him to class, chattering excitedly about blowing things up in the lab via the magic of chemical reactions, and discussing aloud the wonderful possibility of setting fire to the wooden desks.
It was then that Arthur decided what he must do.
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/stalks
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I can definitely see Alfred yelling "Where you at?!" and just the whole description of the way he talks was complete win.
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This was utterly amazing and I'm on the edge of my seat waiting for more! :D Please please please update soon! I adore your characterizations of them both and seriously, that little episode in the gym? Perfect. XD
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I'm not usually into US/UK but the way you write this, my god, I want more.
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The characterization; the descriptions (in particular, "He talked like a mic dragged across the continental Unites States;") the speech patterns and pet names; pure brilliance!
I anxiously await the next chapter.
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I fucking love you, anon.
This fic has made my DAY!! 8D
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