chasingangela: (half face)
It was Angela's 19th birthday, but she didn't have any plans to celebrate, really. She'd let herself have a caramel latte at work --- ooh, rebellion -- and was now flopped on her bed, trying to do some reading for her women's lit final.

Of course, Virginia Woolf wouldn't do her much good if she didn't make it past freshman year, but Angela wasn't letting herself think that far ahead.

[OOC: For meeeeeee, but open to anybody who remembers her birthday.]
chasingangela: (sepia)
Angela came back from her French class and struggled to breathe in through her clogged sinuses, than made a face. "Meg?" she called to her roommate. "What is that stench?"

"Angela! Hi!" Meghan said, and for once she sounded almost nice. From experience, Angela knew that meant nothing good had happened. "Remember how I was trying to convince you to use henna and you wouldn't?"

"Like two weeks ago," Angela conceded, dropping her backpack and sniffing again. Her sense of smell was almost shot, but the aroma in the room reminded her of a mixture of zombie sweat and rancid oatmeal.

"Um, right," Meghan said. "Anyhow, I mixed up a batch in case you changed your mind, and then I got involved in decorating my altar to recognize the moon goddess? So I forgot about it, and I just dumped it out in the bathtub." She paused. "I think it's alive and trying to eat the enamel."

Angela flopped onto her bed and groaned into the pillow. She was sick, had a low C in French because conjugating sucked, and was badly homesick for Fandom, of all places. Slowly, she opened one eye. "Do you suppose you could clean it up before it brings down the dorm?"

Meghan nodded. "Yeah, I was going to go to the store and get some stuff. And rubber gloves. Lots and lots of rubber gloves. Just ... don't use the bathroom until I get back, okay?"

"Not a problem,' Angela promised her roommate's retreating back. If Marty wasn't on his way, the day would feel like even more of a waste.
chasingangela: (name sidelong)
Angela had just finished her last final and was humming "Silver Bells" as she packed for her Christmas trip home. Out of habit, she called into her Fandom voicemail -- and the smile slowly died on her face as she listened to Anakin's message.

So. Angelus was back, and she was ten years away and useless. Even though she hadn't kept her notes from that horrible time two years ago -- she had wanted to block it from her mind -- she hoped that, if she just went back to Fandom, she'd be able to help *somehow.*

After calling him back, she made two other phone calls, then logged into Portalocity to see how fast she could get to Fandom.
chasingangela: (sepia)
Angela Chase was mesmerized, though whether it was by the line to see Santa, the animatronic display of a family stacking presents, or simply the chaos of it all, was an open question. "Can you hear yourself think?" she asked Marty, not entirely rhetorically.
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: (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: (probably saying something sincere)
After dinner in the common room, Angela came back to her room and flopped onto bed. Meeting Luke had been ... kind of odd, especially after her conversation with Rory a few days before. At least Alanna understood how much the whole thing sucked, and no one seemed to hold the whole gremlin thing against her.

She'd met the new librarian, too, who seemed very cool. And Cross-Species Communication was interesting.

She scratched a sleepy Min with one hand and stared into space, leaving her dorm room door open so she could see any action.

[OOC: Open.]
chasingangela: (the way we were)
So there had been more goodbyes and some post-goodbye recovery, and time to be emo and talk to Marty, Nadia and new boy JD on the roof. Angela was mostly happy to be alone with her thoughts as she laid back on her bed.

Feeling like she should at least do something mildly productive, she opened Marty's borrowed laptop and checked her e-mail )

...and it reminded her of a whole new set of people she had to miss. She stared glumly out the window into the night.

[OOC: Mostly for Marty. This has been such an emo week.]
chasingangela: (probably saying something sincere)
Angela looked quite contemplative as she lay back on her bed. Sure, there were nice new people and Z-Cases and book drives and teachers to interview and trips to D.C. in the world ... but there were also goodbyes. Which sucked.

She listened to soft music and tossed a ball from hand to hand, wondering what the next year would bring.

[OOC: Mostly for the BF, but open.]
chasingangela: (sepia)
Angela sipped from a very large bottle of water and rebalanced her backpack on her shoulders.

It was a beautiful day, and some time off the island, even if it was just an overnight, sounded pretty good. It would help clear her head before the new semester started. And it was time for her to look at colleges, too.

She wasn't even obsessing over what Jamie had said about her not being safe.

Okay, not obsessing much.

[OOC: For Marty. They'll be back tomorrow evening. Everything after they leave the island is NFB due to distance.]
chasingangela: (half face)
Angela had pushed the beds together and covered them with every pillow or cushion she could get her hands on -- if the third floor common room appears slightly denuded, blame her.

Of course, Min claimed a prime spot in the middle of the bed-couch-thing. And sneered. It was amazing how big and immobile a ten-pound cat could look.

She set out some snacks and drinks on the desk, then turned to trying to set up Marty's laptop to act as a DVD player. It couldn't be that complicated, could it? She bit her lip, wondering if she'd need to wait for him to get back from his trip to the store before they could start.

Finally, the disc loaded, and she let up a cheer as she waited for her guests.

[OOC: For Marty, Anakin and Rory.]
chasingangela: (sly smile)
Angela is definitely not nervous as she climbs up to the roof with her camera for photography class. Nope. Now is she nervous as she adjusts her top and shorts -- picked because they leave much flesh to put body glitter on -- and runs a brush through her hair.

She's dragged a chair up with her, so she can block the door to the roof once Marty's there. She may not be nervous, but she also doesn't want half the school up watching her attempt at modeling. Call it paranoia.

[OOC: Locked to Marty, unless you really want to break down the door.]
chasingangela: (angela is annoyed)
When Angela opened her eyes on Monday, she wished she hadn't.

Actually, she just wanted to go back in time.

It wasn't enough she woke up Saturday convinced she was Joxer. (And Marty thought he was ... Willow? Weird.) She had to go to the roof and talk to Willow (Nadia?) and himself (herself? Tempe?) about it. Then she made some armor and talked to Anders, Chloe (Marty? -- and, gah, had she kind of hit on Chloe?) and some girl Kaylee, who she probably owed an apology. Or flowers. Or both. And then the next morning she had talked to Walter, who thought he was her, and Dawn, who was just herself.

And then she had met Bel, who was Phoebe and Callisto, who had not killed her. Yet.

Suicide by pillow suffication looked like a better option than cooking class. Maybe she should just stay in bed.
chasingangela: (my so-called life...)
It wasn't especially early, but it still felt early if you had been up late, which Angela had.

Sadly, cats can't read clocks, and Min was making little 'Please remember I exist and feed me now' meaows. Angela stumbled out of bed to feed the cata nd start the coffeepot.

And then she sat on the edge of the bed and just kind of looked at Marty, who had dropped by only moments before she had fallen asleep. She could go back to bed, or she could wake him up. Hmmm.
chasingangela: (fading from view)
The flight to Dulles was being announced, and Angela was trying to decide if they should even get on it.

"Seriously, are you good to fly?" she asked Marty. "You look kind of green. Um, grey-green, really."

[OOC: This is being posted early, but IC, they aren't back until Saturday afternoon. No interaction possible just yet.]
chasingangela: (name sidelong)

Subject: Bonjour, ma amie )
chasingangela: (dangerous beauty)
Marty was still sleeping deeply as Angela crept out of bed and took to the streets of Paris. She returned a little breathless, having used a mixture of Pidgin French, pointing, and smiling to accomplish her shopping.

It was worth it, though. She started to brew coffee in the pot in the room as she arranged a picnic -- fresh bread, Nutella, strawberries, champagne and orange juice -- on a tray decorated with tiger lilies.

She'd been shopping throughout their vacation, so of course she had picked up
a few birthday presents.

She fidgeted with the last two through her clothes as she leaned over to kiss Marty awake.

[OOC: NFB due to location. Last two links somewhat NSFW.]
chasingangela: (Dreamer)

Subject: Fwd: Vacations are nice.

Hey, person I just talked to ten minutes ago.

Parker wants you to write her.

Also, she loves your new look, so there.


The correspondance from the afternoon is attached as a forward.
chasingangela: (longing)
Something was niggling at Angela's stomach, keeping her from sleep.

It might have just been the fact Min had decided one of her hair bands was a perfect toy, and was loudly stalking it around the room.

No, it felt like more than that.

Sighing and deciding to make the most of her early wakefulness, Angela pulled away from Marty and crept out of bed. He mumbled a little, but hardly stirred as she yanked on boots, jeans and a jacket and headed out the door. She returned 15 minutes later with a bag of muffins and two enormous cups of coffee.

Then she sat down in the chair at the side of the bed and watched Marty sleep, her face relaxing as she did so. Maybe today would be a good day after all.

Muffins, scrapbooking, and phone calls behind here. )

[OOC: Preplayed with [ profile] oatmanspatient. No interaction possible. Also, I am email only from about noon today until April 4 and will miss you guys like whoa.]
chasingangela: (locker)
Angela opened one eye suspiciously to the yowls of a hungry, or possibly just bored, cat. "Can't you learn to feed yourself already?" she asked Min hopefully.

Apparently not, as the tabby's answer was another yowl and an accusing stare at the empty food bowl. As she dragged herself out of bed and shook Friskies into the bowl -- and coffee into her coffee maker -- she thought about the last week.

She had taught a guy from 1057 about light switches and learned that Geoff was leaving town. She had finally met the kid across the hall, hung out in the common room, been obnoxiously cheerful at the library, gotten bitten by a monster and played Dance Dance Revolution with Nadia at Jack Harkness' birthday party, gotten candy from Blair, found our Rory's puppy has an invisible friend, had a good sandwich at Jeff, God of Biscuits -- though she still doesn't know what kind of god Jeff is -- passed notes with Rory, had a good time at the dance, and -- apparently -- worked things out with Zero after a truly nasty fight. Sort of.

And, of course, she had Marty back. The head of dark hair on the other pillow made the whole morning thing much more bearable. She leans over his hopefully-still-asleep form to kiss his cheek.


chasingangela: (Default)
Angela Chase

May 2015

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