chasingangela: (sleepyhead)
With only one class Fridays, Angela often spent the afternoon in quiet reflection.

Or napping. They were about the same thing.

But today, she woke up from the nap less than refreshed. )

She woke up crying.

[OOC: Door is open.]
chasingangela: (my so-called life...)
With a grunt -- walking while carrying things was still a little tricky -- Angela heaved her suitcase on her bed.

Then she sat down next to it, closing her eyes and massaging her ankle.

It was good to be home. Angela left her dorm room door open in hopes someone would come by and give her something better to do than unpacking.

[OOC: Open, but I may be slow for a bit.]
chasingangela: (cryface)
"It's just a sprain," Angela complained, for about the 37th time. She resettled her cast-bound foot on its pile of pillows with a wince. She had tripped getting off the ski lift, and the results included an ugly bruise and a distinct limp. "I'm fine to go back to school."

"A severe sprain, and Doctor Brown said not to fly until you'd gone back for a follow-up," her mother said. "We're listening to her. You're the one who insisted on trying to ski ... "

Angela sighed dramatically and reached for the glass of ginger ale. "I've done it before!" she said, and turned pleading eyes to her boyfriend. "I'm practically eighteen. I should go back if I want to, right?"

Angela's mom is MEAN, ZOMG )
chasingangela: (sepia)
Angela sprawled on her bed, legs crossed at the ankle as she scrawled in her short story notebook. She had a scene in her head that wouldn't quite work for her story in creative writing class ... but maybe it would if she took out the unicorns?

She erased, scribbled, erased again, and was chewing on her pen when her phone rang )

Angela laughed before the girls exchanged their goodbyes and hung up. Still smiling, she began gathering her clothes for a weeklong trip home. Her door was open, and she turned up her R.E.M. CD to hum along.
chasingangela: (OOC)
Good: We're moving into our first house on Saturday.

Bad: Our DSL connection won't be back up until a few days or even a week later. From now until the move, I'll be patchily available because of the crapzillion things we still have to do.

Good: Next week is Fandom High's spring break. I should be able to sneak enough tags from work and Starbucks to keep Tyler, Angela and Elliot minimally in play and have a vague idea of what's going on until we're settled in and have shiny Internet access again.

Bad: ... I'm already twitching from withdrawal.

E-mail works if anyone needs me.
chasingangela: (Angela/Marty)
After class Marty is busy doing... nothing. Nothing at all. He should be doing homework but instead he's just lying on his bed and staring out the window.

Angela came by and knocked on his door. "Hey. Mind if I hang out here for a little bit?"

"Not at all," Marty said sitting up a little and smiling. "Got anything in mind?"

"Nothing special." Angela went to sit next to him on the bed, but hesitated. "Nothing in here is talking, is it?" she asked. "I was just up in my room and they were performing 'It's a Small World.'" She shook her head. "My brain will never be the same."

"Nope," Marty said with a grin. "Whatever has been going on in the dorm hasn't happened here. I threatened all my furniture and told them I'd turned them into kindling if they tried anything, so that might have something to do with it."

Of course, the threat of kindling only holds so long ... )

[OOC: Played via e-mail with [ profile] oatmanspatient. React to the runaway furniture if you want.]
chasingangela: (gonna die)
After talking to Lorne in music, Angela went up to her room. Grimacing at the blinking message light, she reached for the phone. She returned Angel's call, then left four more messages.

Then she went online and ordered something. That was a hard note to write.

[OOC: Sorry for the linkdrop spam.]
chasingangela: (facepalm)
Angela woke up curled into a ball on Marty's bed, feeling chilly. Her first thought was to wonder why she had fallen asleep in her clothes.

Then she wondered why she'd had such a weird dream. She and Marty had been in the dorm hall when suddenly they started to fight about ... jealousy? Of Dean Tick? She'd even gone to the library to see Bridge about it and told Sam Carter the whole story when they were supposed to be working on a sociology quiz. (Angela was starting to wonder why she was taking a normal test in a dream.) Then, somehow, calling Veronica came into it, and -- wow, her imagination was weird -- she had gotten paranoia all over Dean Tick before confronting Marty.

Who was in a tree. Wearing a suit.

It had to be a dream, right?

It was a good thing Angela hadn't checked her voice mail yet. She sat up and groaned.
chasingangela: (Juliet is thinking)
Juliet woke up and stretched, delighted by how comfortable and warm the bed was. The Friar had come through.

"I do remember well where I should be," she muttered to herself. "And there I am. Where is my Romeo?" She glanced around the room hopefully, but did not see him.

"Some adventure must have stolen him," she decided. "Ah, well, soon I shall find my dearest husband."

She dressed quickly -- struggling a little with the buttons because Nurse was not there -- and ran a brush through her hair. She smiled at herself in the mirror, ready to start a new life.

[OOC: Mostly establishy, but open for the roomie or others.]
chasingangela: (thinky thinky)
Angela woke up with a start from a dream where Marty was chasing her with a fireball. Her relief at being in her room, in her bed, with her cat sleeping at the foot of the bed, was temporary -- she realized all of it, from getting grabbed in the Perk and taken to a cabin where Marty (or someone who looked like him) demo0nstrated demon powers and threatened to kill her -- had really happened.

The fact Marty had reappeared a moment later and been normal, just worried, almost made things worse, as did learning Bridge and Z were also missing and Cally had been hurt by a demon.

At least it sounded like Tori could take care of herself.

Angela pulled the covers back over her head. she wasn't sure she could deal with the outside world, not yet.
chasingangela: (content)
Angela was sitting on her bed, crumpled paper around her. She just needed to get the description of the girl's in her story's freezing hands exactly right to impress Yuki.

And as I looked at the garden, I knew. Knew that my touch made things cold and hard. My long, slender fingers still had purplish nails; they shone like a promise, like vanishing girlhood.

Well, that wouldn't quite do. Angela sighed, crossed it out and started over.

Her door was open.
chasingangela: (Default)
Angela had been procrastinating. That was why it was almost 10 p.m. Saturday and she still hadn't given out any Christmas presents or finished packing for her journey to her parents' house the next day.

But there were two big piles on her bed; one of clothes, the other of presents. Stop by, and she might give you a gift. Or else draft you to help pack. It's all the same, right?
chasingangela: (eyes of a young girl)
Angela spent most of the day preparing for the plan she and Parker had conceived. It took her a few drafts, but she thought she had an essay that would torpedo Marty's chances of getting into college, simply by telling the truth.

If she was lucky, he might even get a nice psychiatric evaluation out of it.

She lurked in the second-floor hallways until she saw Marty leave, then hurried to his door and used her key to let herself in. His admissions packets were still sitting on his desk, surrounded by wadded balls of paper; she hurriedly took the top one, barely registering what school it was for -- University of Michigan -- before she slid out the applicantion he had started to complete and pput in one of her own.

The school records were accurate, though the two-year gap in Marty's education might be more apparent than he would like. But the essay was probably not what the folks in Ann Arbor were hoping to see.

My name is Martin Q. Blank and I am a liar and an assassin. I have killed professionally since I was 15 years old. I have taken more lives than you can imagine. While I sometimes regret this, it's not enough to stop me from trying it again, if I feel the cause is just. It used to be about money; for now, it isn't ...

Angela smiled grimly as she taped the envelope shut and locked the door. She dropped one in the mailbox, then slid another under Parker's door. A third would go to Marty in a week, just to make him sweat.

Angela had executed her first revenge plot. She hoped it never got too sweet.

[OOC: Her being here is OK for broadcast, but not what she's doing.]
chasingangela: (sepia)
After her computer class, Angela ran into town and came back to her room with sandwiches, chips and cookies from J,GOB and spread out a floor picnic. Then she sat back, picked up a book, and started waiting for her boyfriend, door left open.

[OOC: For Marty, but come by if you need her.]
chasingangela: (OOC Danielle)
We are going to NYC tomorrow and driving back home just before I need to go to work Sunday.

I'll be on Sunday night if I am not dead from tired.

That is all, carry on.
chasingangela: (gonna die)
Angela sat on her bed, eyes firmly closed, right arm rubbing the sling on her left arm. The creepiest ghost she had ever seen had put her in the clinic overnight.

The night was hell. Every time she tried to sleep, she saw Kevin's hands coming towards her and jerked awake. She'd gotten some Tylenol with codeine in the clinic, and was eying the bottle, trying to decide if she could risk taking another to force her to drift off.

No, she needed to fight this thing, or try to. She made a phone call, figuring talking to someone who knew more about this stuff might help, and waited for Sam. Her door was open for any other visitors as well.
chasingangela: (about to hide)
Angela was feeling a little melancholy after Parents' Weekend.

What else was new?

She went to look for Marty, hoping his weekend had ended a little better than hers.
chasingangela: (Graham & Angela)
Graham had packed up the leftovers from brunch and delivered them to Angela's dorm room, then taken her into D.C. to track down a gourmet takeout place that seemed good enough to feed his daughter for the next week or so. Angela convinced him to take her shopping for shoes, so they did that.

And then they couldn't procrastinate any more, and Graham and Angela stopped at the Causeway garage to say goodbye.

Cut for length )
chasingangela: (glam 1)
Angela sat in front of the mirror, trying to figure out how to remove the blond extensions from her hair without pulling off her entire scalp.

The Jamies Madroxes were going to die. Though she had to admit, it didn't look too awful, just ... not like her.

It had been a quiet week -- just class, time with Marty and talking to Rory at the newspaper meeting. Plus her dad was supposed to get to the school around noon.

Hopefully her hair would be back to normal by then.
chasingangela: (B&W moody)
After talking to Angel and Parker at the Perk, Angela hurried back to her room to get ready.

An hour or so later -- showered, perfumed, and girdled within an inch of her life -- she fixed a final pin into her updo, added another layer of lipstick, and surveyed her reflection critically. Her dress seemed a little daring, but she supposed she could get away with it -- especially with a shawl.

She twirled to watch the layers of lace and crinoline spin, then attempted to sit demurely while she waited for her date. Eventually, she got up and put on an Elvis Presley record, bouncing a little to the beat; she hoped they'd play rock at the dance. Old people just didn't get it.

[OOC: For the date, but she's here if anyone needs her.]


chasingangela: (Default)
Angela Chase

May 2015

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