Nov. 1st, 2015 03:19 pm
notanactualfairy: (Default)
In creating this journal, the author has assumed the identity of a fictional person for use in the role-playing game [livejournal.com profile] fandomhigh, for the sole purpose of entertainment, without intending to obtain a benefit or to injure or defraud either the person who created the fictional person, or any reader of this content. The author does not purport to be the creator of the fictional person, or to be affiliated with the creator, or with any person or entity with an interest in the fictional person. The author does not claim to be the person who is being used as the graphical representation of that fictional person, nor intend to obtain a benefit or to injure or defraud that person by use of their image.
notanactualfairy: (Default)
Week 1: Introductions
Week 2: Mundane Physics
Week 3: Flight A (No Wings)
Week 4: Flight B (Wings)
Week 5: Speed
Week 6: Strength
Week 7: Midterm
Week 8: Mass A (Shapeshifting)
Week 9: Mass B (Multiplying)
Week 10: Energy A (Light)
Week 11: Energy B (Heat)
Week 12: Psionics
Week 13: Other
Week 14: Practical Review
Week 15: Final Exam

Class Roster
Akatsutsumi, Momoko
Altman, Teddy
Choovanski, Katina
Collins, Wes
Darklighter, Gavin
Peace, Warren
Peters, Francine
Petrelli, Peter
Sheppard, John
Skywalker, Ben
Storm, Johnny


Jan. 1st, 2010 11:42 pm
notanactualfairy: (Default)
"Bonjour, vous avez atteignez Jean-Paul Beaubier. Je suis évidemment pas ici maintenant, autrement je vous néglige. Si ceci est n'importe qui a affilié avec les X-Men, aller de l'avant et raccrocher maintenant. Si ceci est Aurora, Jeanne-Marie, ou n'importe qui d'autre dans la tête de ma soeur, essayer mon téléphone de cellule."

There was a pause long enough one might think Jean-Paul was going to leave the caller to puzzle it out whether they spoke French or not, then,

"Hello, you've reached Jean-Paul Beaubier. I'm obviously not here right now, or else I am ignoring you. If this is anyone affiliated with the X-Men, go ahead and hang up now. If this is Aurora, Jeanne-Marie, or anyone else inside my sister's head, try my cell phone."


((French translation provided by freetranslation.com and therefore not guaranteed to be anything like accurate. Assistance in making it moreso provided by [livejournal.com profile] x5_alec.))
notanactualfairy: (JP is wounded)
The first thing Jean-Paul had done when he got home was gather everything he didn't remember owning. Then he'd taken it all outside and burned it. Then he'd taken a very long shower and gone for a very long flight.

Then he'd called his sister to tell her he'd actually been Queen Veranke for the last little bit.

That actually went better than expected. )

Then he started packing.

((Open if anyone wants to check up on JP and/or say goodbye.))
notanactualfairy: (JP is wounded)
Jean-Paul had considered calling Scott and asking if there were any suicide missions lying about this weekend, but he'd decided that was the coward's way.

So before dawn, he'd gone flying. He'd made it up into the Arctic before he'd forced himself to turn around and come back. He landed on his balcony and opened the door.

Bonjour, Joanne. )
notanactualfairy: (Jean-Paul is cranky)
Jean-Paul figured the chatter might have died down enough by Wednesday for him to show his face in public. He was pretty sure he hadn't hit on any students while he was a teenager, but that was never a sure thing. Better hiding than sorry, right?

((So, like, basically I suck. My internet went out Sunday night while I was writing JP's class, so I went, "Oh, la, I will post it when I get back. Then I woke up well after I should have to a phone call asking, "Are we seeing this movie or not and where are you? and dashed out ASAP and completely forgot about it until late evening. I'm really sorry, and it won't happen again.))
notanactualfairy: (AU Ultimate JP)
When Jean-Paul woke up Saturday morning, his first thought was, Seriously? Someone had actually kidnapped him? Although these seemed to be some pretty crappy kidnappers, leaving him unbound and unattended. Not that he was complaining. Piotr was going to either freak out or never stop laughing.

He'd gone over this in his head. Step one: don't let them find out you're a mutant. Step two: assess the situation. Step three: don't be stupid. Step four: wait for rescue.

Now that he was in the moment, steps three and four were lame. Back to step two.

He was in a bed, in a bedroom furnished in what Jean-Paul would have to call Urban Gay Bachelor. If Jean-Paul had gone out last night, instead of staying in to do homework, this would make a lot more sense, and his only real concern would be explaining himself to his boyfriend. There was a neat stack on the dresser: passport, wallet, cell phone, keys. He ignored the latter two in favor of the passport, first. It was Canadian, and made out to...Jean-Paul Beaubier of Quebec, age thirty. The guy actually kind of looked like him, if he was, you know, old. And the picture was crappy and small, but he thought there was something wrong with the dude's ears. In the wallet were a couple of ID cards that looked government-issued (from both sides of the border) and a pair of school faculty IDs, one for Xavier's, one for some place called Fandom High, along with cash, credit cards, a stock broker's business card.

So. He had money. He had a closet full of clothes that wouldn't fit, but would keep him covered. He had ID, if he could bluff his way into people thinking he was thirty. And he had an empty apartment, no sign of a kidnapper in sight.

Time to figure out what was going on.

((Jean-Paul is now Ultimate!teen!Jean-Paul, but prior to Recent Events because I haven't actually read them.))
notanactualfairy: (Default)
Jean-Paul was in his office for his scheduled office hours, but most of his attention was on his computer and his phone as he attempted to deal with his portfolio and some idiot who was answering the phone instead of his actual stock broker. He suspected Skrulls.

He would almost welcome a distraction.
notanactualfairy: (JP has glowy eyes)
With finals fast approaching, Jean-Paul supposed it would be prudent to hold office hours so students could ask questions, express concerns, tell him he was a horrible person, you know, the usual. So Wednesday morning found him behind his desk, checking his e-mail. His inbox was full of messages from a blocked address, and he foolishly clicked one of them.

"X-MEN RPS?" echoed through the halls.

A little later, it was, "I WOULD NEVER!"

He was horrified, yet intrigued. It was like he couldn't look away.

((Open like an office with a horrified Quebecois mutant in it!))
notanactualfairy: (thinking of smiling...)
Jean-Paul was behind his desk, playing spider solitaire and occasionally pausing to work on lesson plans. Ah, the glamorous life of an ex-superhero.

If anyone wanted to interrupt him, that would be just fine by him.
notanactualfairy: (Jean-Paul is cranky)
Jean-Paul was in his office, thinking wistfully of Halloween candy. All that sugar he couldn't have...

Sometimes life really wasn't fair.

((Open like an office...that is open!))
notanactualfairy: (Jean-Paul is cranky)
Jean-Paul was not a happy camper. This was at least partially because his texts to his sister demanding she entertain him while he waited for parents to show up had been met with, 'Why are you not in church?' Not that he didn't love Jeanne-Marie. It was just...not what he'd been looking for this particular morning.

notanactualfairy: (thinking of smiling...)
Jean-Paul had considered putting up a sort of mad lib sign on the door and calling it a day. [Your child's name here] has been [above average/average/obsessed with spandex] in my class. You should be [proud/ashamed of yourself]. Then let them fill that in as they deemed appropriate. However, he suspected that would get him fired, so here he was in the flesh instead.
notanactualfairy: (thinking of smiling...)
Oh, yes, office hours. Jean-Paul should actually try holding those. He settled in to fold paper cranes from printer paper.

Lots and lots of paper cranes. Ah, superspeed and boredom. Always a fun combination. He hoped the school had a large office supplies budget.

notanactualfairy: (WTF girlybits)
First, Jean-Paul shrieked in terror. Then, he composed himself long enough to call his sister and find out if this was a straight bodyswap, because he really did not want to deal with Jeanne-Marie's whacked-out brain chemistry. That was a weird phone call. She seemed to still be herself, but then he had to convince her she hadn't gone yet more crazy.

Then he just sort of sat in bed and whimpered.
notanactualfairy: (Default)
Jean-Paul was, of course, in his office today. Behind the desk so no one could see what he was wearing and whether it left his knees visible. Ha.
notanactualfairy: (Default)
Jean-Paul was in his office, ready to hear student complaints. He was also trying to come up with a class for fall. Possibly something that would make the students hate him less. But this class was just so much fun.

Jean-Paul was hardly the nicest person around, but most people already knew that.
notanactualfairy: (Default)
Jean-Paul was in his office all day today. And no that was not an internet dating site he was looking at, thank you very much.

He was, of course, available to hear any concerns or complaints his students might have. Or, you know. Whatever.

((Open like office hours!))
notanactualfairy: (JP is wounded)
Jean-Paul's face looked much better, and so he'd finally deigned to hold office hours. After all, the pixie woman probably wouldn't, and someone had to be available to hear the students' whining inevitable complaints.
notanactualfairy: (JP is wounded)
Jean-Paul Beaubier had a black eye and a duffel bag when he landed on the balcony of his apartment on Fandom. He let himself in with his key, threw the duffel down, and went to the freezer for a package of frozen peas for the eye. Then he dug his cell phone out of his pocket to call Scott Summers.

"He is not coming back--I do not know, Scott, it might have something to do with how you suck. And I botched it, too. He has PTSD, and now he has run away from home, so. I suppose we are thrilled with our success? No, I am not coming back, either. I was there two hours ago. I packed my things and said goodbye to my sister. So. Goodbye." He hung up the phone and left it on the counter as he leafed through his accumulated mail. Something from the school caught his eye.

"Fantastique," he muttered when he saw he was to resume teaching in the morning. At least the subject matter looked like he could do it in his sleep.

((Open to anyone with reason to be at Jean-Paul and Lulu's?))
Page generated Sep. 26th, 2017 10:53 am
Powered by Dreamwidth Studios