notmyownage: (talking with her hands)
2015-12-22 07:25 pm
Entry tags:

Voicemail

"Right, so, you've reached Claudia. I'm totally not around right now. Sucks to be you. If you don't know what to do with this beeping noise, then you probably have more problems than just not being able to reach me."

*beeeeeeeep*
notmyownage: (*is groaning*)
2012-06-03 03:42 am

En route back to the Warehouse, middle of nowhere, South Dakota, Saturday night

"You know," Claudia groaned, slouching down in her seat. "I kind of figured I'd left the weirdness hangovers behind when I graduated high school."

Myka leaned over and put one hand on her forehead. "You are still a little warm."

"But not flaming. So, you know, I have that going for me."

Myka sighed. "You did fine, Claudia."

"My first real assignment as an agent --" Claudia raised a hand when Myka opened her mouth. "-- I know, apprentice agent -- and I almost get myself nuked by Viking spoon, and had to be rescued by a 19th century literary figure gone rogue."

Myka shrugged. "Which . . . is pretty much fine."

Claudia shot her a very suspicious look.

"It is," she insisted. "Almost getting killed is part of the job. A really terrible part, but part. You're going to make a great agent."

"Yeah, well. I guess this time I at least didn't end up craving human flesh."

"Wait, what?"

"Nothing. High school. You know how that goes."

Myka shook her head. "You know, the more you talk about it, the more I'm pretty sure that I really, really don't."

[ooc: lala, a coda for W13 2x7. Open for phone calls and the like on slow play, if anyone wants.]
notmyownage: (*is confident*)
2012-02-25 07:22 pm

An undisclosed location in the Pacific Northwest, most likely Oregon, Saturday

In which Claudia arrives in Eureka )

This was going to be the weirdest weekend ever.

[ooc: riffed from one of the early scenes of the Eureka episode "Crossing Over". No one ever said Eureka titles were subtle.]
notmyownage: (*is frustrated*)
2012-02-21 08:39 pm

A diner in Univille, South Dakota, Tuesday evening

To say that Claudia's last spring break wasn't going well so far would be a bit of an understatement. Artie had convinced her to skip out on Rio to be at the Warehouse for the computer upgrade, but had neglected to note that the upgrade wasn't happening until the end of the week. So why had they needed her back in town by Saturday?

To meddle )

Okay, maybe she'd give Todd another chance. What? It wasn't like she and Matt were a thing or anything, right?

[ooc: very much summarized from season two episode . . . five-ish? Since I'm still at work. Set up for Claudia's spectacular love-triangle-turned-quadrangle of doom, woo!]
notmyownage: (*is lazy*)
2012-02-06 04:15 pm
Entry tags:

Room 317, Monday afternoon

For once, Claudia actually wasn't tinkering with something on the floor. Artie had her running searches for any pings on Ben Franklin's kite string -- she could have sworn that whole thing was a myth! -- so she was lounging on her bed while her handbuilt computer program trawled across the web for anything that screamed "two-hundred-year-old electrified twine".

Such was life as a Warehouse intern.

[ooc: expecting one, but also open.]
notmyownage: (*has a to-do list*)
2012-01-28 10:16 pm
Entry tags:

Room 317, Saturday

Claudia had pieces of a Roomba, an old alarm clock, three digital recorders, and a vintage sewing machine spread out on the floor of her side of the room.

What can you build with a Roomba, an old alarm clock, three digital recorders, and a vintage sewing machine?

She'll tell you just as soon as she finishes putting it together and finding out.

[expecting one, but also open]
notmyownage: (*does a little dance*)
2012-01-13 02:16 pm
Entry tags:

Room 317, Friday afternoon

Claudia was in a very good mood today. Her classes this semester were, like, the definition of easy (movies and construction? Yes, please!), Artie actually gave her the weekend off on doing inventory at the Warehouse, and she'd even gotten to spend much of last night meeting new people, eating quality Italian food, and making out with the hot new blind guy on his roommate's bed.

For revenge's sake, of course. Claudia didn't just make out with guys on their roommates' beds all willy-nilly.

So when she got back from Art of Scrap, today, she decided it was time for an impromptu one woman dance party. She put on some Talking Heads -- thanks to Scully, she was totally rocking the new wave vibe this week -- and rocked out.

Well, until she turned her ankle, tripped over nothing, and fell headlong to the floor.

"Ow," she grumbled into the carpet. Something green and scaly darted out from under her bed and her eyes went wide. "Oh no. Oh no no no no --" She tried to roll away, but wasn't fast enough. The gremlin bit her hard on the left hand, and Claudia's "no"s tapered off until she was staring dreamily at the ceiling.

"I think I want . . . meatballs," she decided, then pushed herself up to wobble off to the common room in search of cooking implements.

[ooc: establishy, with a common room post to go up momentarily!]
notmyownage: (*is hugging yay!*)
2011-12-22 01:59 pm
Entry tags:

Leena's Bed and Breakfast, South Dakota, Thursday

"You mean there's actually a whole section devoted to Christmas artifacts?" Joshua asked.

"The Aisle of Noel," Artie confirmed. "It's not as . . . joyous . . . as it might sound."

Claudia burst through the front door ahead of Myka, who'd driven her in from the airport. "Honey! I'm home! Joshua!"

Joshua was nearly all the way to his feet when Claudia smacked into him for her hug. "Woah. Okay," he said. "We won't skip Thanksgiving next year, I promise."

"She uh . . . had a rough time of it," Myka explained.

"We don't really get it," Pete offered.

"Some artifact," said Artie. "She refuses to be debriefed yet."

Claudia pulled back from the hug to give Artie a pointed look. "Hey, I've tried. You're the one who refuses to believe me about the Auditors and the Nothing eating the multiverse."

"That part I get," Artie said. "I'm just still not sure about the gnome."

"Whatever," Claudia said. "Where's my presents?"

[ooc: open for phone calls if anyone feels the need to contact mah girl.]
notmyownage: (*is looking up*)
2011-12-09 08:56 pm

The edge of the remainder of the known universe, Friday night

It was a little bit disturbing that the entirety of what Claudia knew still existed of the universe consisted of the school grounds. There was something deeply existential about it, and she was starting to get a little bit afraid to blink, for fear that the rest of the world would disappear entirely and she'd wake up in a mental institution back in Minneapolis or something.

She was also getting very curious about the force field and how it functioned to hold back the Nothing that surrounded them, however precariously. She knew going outside was dangerous as hell right now, but if she could figure it out, maybe she could at least jury rig something together to help shore the thing up. So there she was, several feet from the edge of everything, with a big bucket of miscellaneous objects, food-stuffs, and charge generators, throwing them at the force field and watching them disappear from existence.

She'd managed to determine conclusively that if you threw stuff at the force field, it disappeared. She was about to embark on a circuit of the thing to test for weak spots when she tripped over the slightly exposed root of an otherwise non-existent tree. She flailed for balance, one of her finger tips just barely grazing the force field.

Anyone else observing might note that if you threw Claudias at the force field, they disappeared, too.

[ooc: NFI]
notmyownage: (*has a to-do list*)
2011-11-29 06:59 pm
Entry tags:

Room 317, Tuesday evening

Not having a class to attend today meant that Claudia had spent pretty much the entire day in bed, the covers pulled up around her like a cape, futzing around with tech equipment.

So far, she's managed Derringer-sized Tesla out of her alarm clock and an old phone, and had plans worked out for a Tesla grenade -- and only scorched her pillow a little bit.

Not that there was anything to use them against.

Still, it kept her mind off the fact that her brother was missing again and she was alone in the world again and she didn't even have a rotten foster house to go back to because even Mrs. Frederick appeared to be missing.

Bitter and sulky Claudia was bitter and sulky.

And armed.

[ooc: Door closed, post open. My day sucked and is still going. Distract me?]
notmyownage: (*goes "yuh-huh"*)
2011-11-23 12:38 am

Room 317, Tuesday night

Claudia came back from the causeway looking the very definition of downtrodden. She'd spent all day trying to book a trip to Geneva without having to be rerouted through places of which only Azerbaijan even sounded familiar with no success, and now Scully was stranded in Baltimore instead of back in the dorms where she damn well belonged.

She made it back to her room just in time to hear her phone beep. She pulled it out, found a number that more closely resembled an IP address than anything phone related, and frowned. She hit play and listened to the message.

When it was done, she stared at her phone. "WHAT THE HELL," she told it. "PHONES ARE NOT FOR TROLLING, DICKBAG."

[ooc: establishy but also open should anyone want to stop by.]
notmyownage: (*is on vid-phone*)
2011-11-21 04:06 pm

Room 317, Monday afternoon

Claudia honestly hadn't paid much attention to the weirdness going on of late, beyond her worry over Peter. She hadn't heard about anything strange going on back home -- both Artie and Joshua were where they were supposed to be, and as far as Claudia knew, so were Pete and Myka and Lena and Mrs. Frederick.

She didn't really talk to anyone else from home.

But after going to help Jack with his phone, Claudia couldn't help but be just a little bit freaked. She pulled out the Farnsworth that Artie had finally given her after the whole MacPherson/H.G. Wells thing had blown up (literally, in some cases), and hit connect.

Artie answered as promptly -- and as grumpily -- as always )

"Oh thank god," Claudia said, and snapped the Farnsworth shut. Artie would be grilling her for the reason behind that call soon enough, but at least Joshua was still okay.

[ooc: door is closed, post is open]
notmyownage: (*is working hard*)
2011-11-08 01:30 pm
Entry tags:

Room 317, All day Tuesday

Claudia had barely made it to class yesterday, and once she'd seen they were doing a movie, had spent the whole time brainstorming in her notebook.

Why? Well, see, this weekend she'd gotten a really terrible voicemail. And it was the kind of thing she couldn't not follow up on.

Too bad she was running into dead-ends whatever she tried. Not that it was ever easy to hack into another dimension entirely to trace phone records.

Then she got the email from Portalocity.

"Technical difficulties, huh? Does that mean you broke my friend's dimension?"

What? It made as much sense as any other explanation.

[ooc: door is mostly closed, post is entirely open.]
notmyownage: (*is working hard*)
2011-10-11 12:29 am

The Warehouse, South Dakota, Monday night

Claudia had come back to South Dakota for Fall Break only to discover that things with the creepy former Warehouse agent, some skeeze-ball named "MacPherson", had upped his game, trapping Myka's parents using Jack the Ripper's lantern and threatening the crap out of Myka and Pete.

Which, you know, was exciting.

Artie had put Claudia immediately to work on the computers, trying to track down where MacPherson would end up next. He'd stolen Edgar Allen Poe's pen and notebook, giving them a small lead on tracking him down.

"Woah. Got a hit." Claudia shifted slightly to give Artie a clearer view of her laptop. "Apparently MacPherson decided to put Poe's pen up for auction on eBay. So, you know, either he's an idiot, or --"

"Here, click to see what other items the seller has for sale --"

"-- Wait, Artie, don't --" Claudia groaned. "-- You know, I always run a virus check before clicking unknown websites."

Artie looked abashed at the laughing skull that had appeared on the computer screen. "Ah, yes, good idea. Uh, maybe if you --"

"No touchy!"

It was going to be a long week.

[ooc: lalalala, vacations mean time for canon catch up!]
notmyownage: (*is resigned*)
2011-08-09 05:24 pm

The rocky bits, Tuesday evening

Claudia . . . was still hiding out in the rocky bits. She was getting a bit more towards sickly pale than flat out gray, now, and her finger nails had mostly returned to normal, but her teeth were still very much of the sharp, pointy variety and she kept being tempted to try to eat raw fish straight out of the water, so she was figuring it was not yet time to return to dorms.

Maybe she'd just set up her own little hermit cave here. No one would miss her, anyway. Well, not until Artie noticed that no one had inventoried the Warehouse for awhile, anyway, and that could be ages.

[ooc: for . . . me, pretty much. Yes.]
notmyownage: (*is mutated and kinda evil*)
2011-08-08 12:29 am

The rocky bits, Sunday night

The rocks were gray, and so was Claudia. And frankly, she was totally planning on staying right here until she was back to normal and she maybe managed to forget about the whole "eating raw, mutated creatures" thing.

Hey, being a hermit was all the rage, right? She could probably find a cave or something to live in.

[ooc: pretty much establishy, yes.]
notmyownage: (*is not having a good day*)
2011-08-03 02:33 pm

Room 317, All day Wednesday

Claudia wasn't getting out of bed today for love or money. She felt like death warmed over. Like even more death even more warmed over than when she was having her life slowly drained out of her by her connection to her brother's failed attempt at teleportation, and that was hard to do. Maybe she'd managed to electrocute herself a little while playing with the rock, after all.

So, since she'd clearly managed to catch creepy Massachusetts death flu or something, she decided she deserved to have a day of lying in bed.

Then she noticed the spots where her skin was going thick, gray, and scaly. Within minutes, she was calling Artie -- while still lying in a little cocoon of blankets hidden away from the world at large. So, you know, naturally she got his answering machine. Not even voicemail, an answering machine. It was like Artie was from the stone age.

"Hey, Artie, it's me. Do you know of an artifact out there that inflicts the heartbreak of psoriasis on people?"

Blame it on an artifact. The Warehouse's own Occam's razor.

[ooc: Door is closed, but the post is open!]
notmyownage: (*is a major goof*)
2011-05-03 02:09 pm
Entry tags:

OOC: I totally didn't forget to info post, I swear. . . .

For info on my new girl, go here. For the rest, you get mostly copy-and-paste.

SO WHO WAS PHONE -- wait, wrong pasting.

The mad scientist )

The angel, expatriated )

The punk, alumn . . . iated? )

The mun, with the head full of desktop publishing )