Commander & the Leader

❤ Educated, I'm educated enough. Every book has been covered, Covered with dust. Becca Utonium Seventeen | Third Year A n d E v e r y t h i n g N i c e

[pinkutonium-blog]

eddylevine:

“You look really cool in that outfit.”

She adjusted her collar. Now that he mentioned it, she was a little toasty, but looking good was more important than looking comfortable. “No Summer heat is going to stop me from dressing like a professional.”

[pinkutonium-blog]

Do you like the nickname Bex?

“...There’s only one ‘person’ who’s ever used it and only one ugly tone that’s ever attached to it.”

“Can’t say I’m a fan.”

[pinkutonium-blog]

names

Dear Beth, here’s some Monday Night Musing:

They say a name holds the power to shape a child’s identity. An Angelica is going to think she’s an angel. A Raven is going to act dark and mysterious. A Mabel will be an old soul. 

I always liked nicknames. I wish I was creative enough to hand out good ones. They’re a chance to earn your own identity, or choose it for yourself.

If you want to raise three perfect, elegant little girls, it makes sense that you would give them the kind of names that embody sophistication. But sometimes an Isabella will opt for a friendlier Bella. Sometimes a Rebecca will opt for a snappier Becca. Sometimes an Elizabeth will opt for a folksier Bess.

The names we were born with are still a part of us, whether Bess likes it or not.But the unity that my sisters and I achieved wasn’t imposed. As we found our own characters, the “B. Utonium” harmony is just a perfect something that worked out for us, and I think it’s pretty neat how the personalization– the digression brought us closer. 

But then there are people who accept the identities assigned to them.

He grew into his name. Hard. Blunt. Unyielding. 

My sisters see hardened adobe as something to attack or to pry at, to break down or bust open. I can’t say I’ve ever felt compelled to do anything like that. Bricks are just an exterior– a hard shelter for something pathetic and vulnerable. Underneath it is something still susceptible to the elements. 

A solid brick wall can last a swell two centuries if well-maintained.The biggest and baddest of wolves can’t break through bricks built up with love and care. The foundation really is everything, though. If two base blocks have broken off-- for whatever personal reasons, your whole Jenga tower collapses. Divide et impera, and all that jazz. I’m beating a dead horse. But it’s not like there’s anything else for me to batter at when it's crumbling down all on its own.

                                                                                                                 Regards,                                                                                                                        Becca 

[pinkutonium-blog]

scaredyc-t:

“The world is going to end in September? I can’t handle that. I mean, who predicts this stuff? This is going to be like 2012 all over again and all the years before for that. I’m flipping out. I don’t wanna worry about it but what if it happens? I won’t be prepared. And if I am prepared and it doesn’t happen, I would’ve totally wasted my August. Ugh.”

“It’s supposed to be an asteroid this time, right?”

“Look, monitoring asteroid paths is like NASA’s bread and butter. They know about any potential threats and they already have ways of stopping 'em. If it makes you feel any safer, though, I happen to have an eighteen-inch Mag 1 Instruments PortaBall telescope in my dorm room. We can look all night, but we’ll never be able to see anything 'cept the Summer constellations and the last quarter moon.”

It took a lot of Becca's self-control not to show off what she knew about extraterrestrial threats to the human race, but for the frantic boy’s sake, she decided not to bring up anything like the Apollo asteroids. High-strung gingers needed to stick together.

[doctorcotswolds-blog]

Inbox Game: The Power of Words

[pinkutonium-blog]

ooc: Send me one word (at a time, you may send more than one in separate messages). The word can be anything; a day, a place, an adjective, an action, something as simple as “beans,” or as heavy as “piety.” When a word is received, I’ll write a short selfpara, drabble or headcanon based on my character’s association with the word; a simple comment, a memory, an emotion, a scene from the future, the present or past.

[codeaelita-archive]

“I’m not quite sure even triplet telepathy can even be considered a scientific reason.”

“It’s seems like a giant coincidence, but still super strange. Maybe we were all hypnotized at the dance. Or something besides alcohol was in the punch.”

[pinkutonium-blog]

“No one ever laughs at my jokes.”

“That being said, twin telepathy does have about as much scientific explanation as hypnosis. And ‘whoever’ did it would have to know more about hypnosis than most modern psychologists. The last time I read on the topic, the article said a person is fully aware that they’re being hypnotized during and after the process, so unless we were all somehow traumatized by something at the dance to the point of blocking out parts of the night... I don’t know. It all seems unlikely to me. But I’ll ask my dad about it. He’s really into Steve G. Jones, so he probably knows more about the topic than I do.”

[rainbow-kuki]

“Who said it was terrorist? Maybe it’s just people messing with us.”

[pinkutonium-blog]

“By definition, this still qualifies as an act of terrorism. Motives don’t have to be political. If someone planned this ‘for fun,’ there’s still major punishment in order.”

[teacupballerina]

Aaaand a simple set for Blossom! This is the kind of stuff I have in mind when drawing her.

Lots of pleated skirts, simple patterns, bows, blouses, and PINK EVERYWHERE

[dickshairgel]

“I’m not quite sure triplet telepathy is even a thing, but hey, you’re the expert.”

“Yeah, there has to be. It makes no sense.”

[pinkutonium-blog]

“Well, that bit was supposed to be a joke, but it’s worth reading some Guy Lyon Playfair if you want to blow your socks off with some wicked-convincing research to back it up.”

[everaftcrs]

“You are not unsettled in the slightest?”

[pinkutonium-blog]

“There’s no reason to stay worked up over some silly dream. I mean, yeah, it was horrible at the time, but it’s over now. And an explanation for everything is right around the corner. Just give me a little more time.”

[angelica-wth]

It’s only the most popular theory because so many people wanted to spike it so I don’t think anyone would be surprised to find some kind of drug in there among the alcohol. Well no one knew how the green slime came about so maybe who or what ever was behind that is behind this. Doubt it, this one seemed pretty clear.

[pinkutonium-blog]

“Why does everyone insist that someone is targeting the school? The science club has basically proven the ‘slime’ issue was a toxic algae problem. We polluted our local water supplies. That was our fault. And we’re the ones who spoiled the punch, so this is our fault too.”

“Please stop saying there’s some outside monster causing our problems. You’re scaring people and giving everyone an excuse not to take responsibility for their actions.”

[everaftcrs]

Woken by her own screams, Kori stumbled out of bed, falling to the floor when her legs failed, weak from a mix of sore muscles and the visions she just witnessed. There was a wetness on her face, uncontrollable tears still streaming from her eyes as she desperately looked to Raven’s bed only to find it empty. She ran into the hallway, thankful to see the presence of people. But before she could look for her friends, check to make sure they are still there, still breathing, bile rose in her throat and she barely made it to the nearest trash can in time. Be it from the alcohol unknowingly consumed at the dance, the nightmares that were still replaying in her mind, or the coppery smell that still resided in her nose, Kori heaved, throat burning. When her stomach is finally empty, she lifted her head, wiping her face and wondering if she really could have stopped it all from happening. 

[everaftcrs]

[pinkutonium-blog]

Becca sprung into action at the sound of vomit and misery. Someone else in pain was everything she needed to shake what was the most vivid and traumatic nightmare she’d ever shared with her sisters. Comforting someone else was the fastest way for her to shake her own stress. Using someone else’s troubles to displace her own was a little selfish, maybe, but both parties wound up more serene in the end, so she saw no real harm. She grabbed her water bottle and scouted for the citizen in need.

She couldn’t recognize the face with the mane of long hair in the way, and the hall was too poorly lit to make out the red glow she usually saw in the light of the classroom, but it didn’t matter who it was-- all that mattered was the weeping sounds she was hearing from the girl. She stroked the hair back gently and tied it back with the bedtime scrunchie she was using for her own.

“Shh, shh, it’s okay.” She wasn’t sure if she was soothing herself or her classmate, but it became obvious to her when she continued, “You’re okay, everybody’s okay...” After realizing what she said, she corrected herself: “Everything’s okay.”

She felt like she was off her Mommy to the Drunken Teens game tonight. It wasn’t as if Becca didn’t have experience-- she found herself comforting and babysitting her friend Robin at every one of Mitch Mitchelson’s Summer bonfires she was invited to. But despite all of her training, she was sure that she was being too awkward and quiet to help this poor little doll.

When the vomit came to a hiatus, she patted the girl’s back with one hand, and used the other to offer the sealed bottle of water from the Utoniums’ mini-fridge. 

“We need you to stay hydrated, alright?” In retrospect, spiked punch was possibly the worst idea in party history. The sugary drink was already going to leave sweaty dancing kids dehydrated-- adding alcohol into the equation was a disaster waiting to happen. It probably wouldn’t be long before they were joined by more of the female student body.

[pinkutonium-blog]

¥ = How the character handles money ↔ = The character’s ability to read directions ♥ = Character’s preference for relationships (sexuality, type of person, etc.) ☂ = Weather the character enjoys ♪ = What music the character likes (:

¥ = How the character handles money 

With priggish responsibility. She insists on the keeping money in the bank for safekeeping. She knows that she has room and boarding covered while she’s living on Network campus, so she sees no reason to spend much elsewhere. Still, at any given time, Becca keeps exactly 100 dollars in her wallet for emergency purposes only, and she’s very strict with restoring it to that amount as soon as she spends any. She’s very careful with purchases; the kind of person who cuts more coupons than a stay-at-home mother with an empty nest, and she signs up for any email newsletters to get discounts. 

...All of this responsibility is thrown out the window when it comes time to buy Christmas or birthday gifts for her family members.

↔ = The character’s ability to read directions 

Read, reread, examine, and follow every direction right down to each individual syllable. She’s not comfortable with disobedience, spontaneity and improvisation.

♥ = Character’s preference for relationships (sexuality, type of person, etc.) 

Becca is (very bitterly) heterosexual, and a little sexually frustrated, even if she comes off as having no libido.

She has extremely high standards in romance, but her #1 requirement for a potential partner is intelligence. She demands a man with culture, who can not only watch documentaries and art films with her, but also be able to hold up a thorough discussion afterward. 

☂ = Weather the character enjoys 

Probably clear, cold weather, for the sake of the cute winter fashion. She claims to love snow, but it seems she only likes it for the poetry and the first hour of watching it fall. The minute it starts to postpone any plans, make the roads hazardous or cancel class, she starts complaining about it until every last flake melts away.

♪ = What music the character likes

Smooth jazz and classical orchestral music when she’s studying or relaxing. The Beatles when she’s feeling wild.

Becca has opened up to more contemporary music since coming to Network, but her taste still isn’t very eclectic. You’ll find mostly preppy indie rock bands, with mainstram popularity ranging from Vampire Weekend to his Orchestra. Becca’s a sucker for anything that combines melodic vocals with orchestral instruments, but she’s very snooty toward other music, especially Bess’ angry hard rock.

[angelica-wth]

Definitely not just a ‘tripet telepathy’ thing. The only reasonable explanation so far has been too much alcohol in the punch, maybe a possible LSD trip.

[pinkutonium-blog]

“Ah, yeah, that’s my sister’s prime theory, too. My only problem with it is the likeliness of all of us-- even the kids and headmaster who didn’t drink the punch or even go to the dance-- having such a specific dream, but you can probably chalk it up to mass hysteria and the power of suggestion, right?”

“Most people don't even remember their dreams by the time they get around to talking about them. I'm sure they're just filling in the details based on everyone else's stories.”

[rainbow-kuki]

“Well if we’re going for the sad science junk maybe someone’s trying to poison us and put some sort of gas in the air.” 

[pinkutonium-blog]

“Nobody has any reason to target our school. We're too small for it to make a statement and too well-guarded after recent affairs to be worth the effort. And they've lost the whole element of surprise with this, so any terrorist plans are pretty senseless now.”

[going-ghost-girl]

Well…that was something.

[pinkutonium-blog]

“Something, maybe, but nothing to worry about.”

[bess-also-begins-with-b-blog]

“Guess not,” Bess replied dryly, eyeing her sister. Becca didn’t stumble over words. Not to mention Bess was certain the red head was fearless. It sounded off, the way she spoke. She wondered briefly if Becca had heard her last night. No. Bess hadn’t screamed last night. It was her sisters’ screams that had shaken her. Bess didn’t have nightmares. She simply had harsh dreams that she had to overcome.

At least.. that was until last night.

No. Nothing had changed. She didn’t scream. Becca was stronger than this. They were fine.

“Someone probably drugged the punch. Don’t know why they’re making such a big deal out of it.”

[pinkutonium-blog]

“That’s a first-rate theory, actually.” 

“It sounds like I’m going to have to do some research on psychedelic drugs, but it makes perfect sense if a synthetic trip is behind this, since a man-made simulation can only feature so much variety. And you know what? Your impulses and perception of subtleties are probably intensified under the influence-- I know mostly everyone was asleep, but some party animals may have screamed something in the halls that had an effect on the impressionable unconsciousness of anyone who could hear-- something that would have triggered the vision in the first few REMS, and those poor dreamers must have released some sort of hormones into the atmosphere that dominoed through the whole school, right? And another thing: it’s not as if the community to produce and sell hard drugs to underage boarding school students would care about inspecting a prototype-- or we may be their trial run guinea pigs for this new drug! We stored some of the punch in the student lounge refrigerator after clean-up, you know; if we can find a safe, controlled environment, maybe we can put your hypothesis to the test. I’d speculate that...”

Becca continued rambling in this fashion for a little while longer, but even she wasn’t paying much attention to her own words. Her eyes and concentration were too focused on her only-slightly-littler little sister. She experienced an overwhelming amount of sentiments in beholding her, in person, alive, safe, sound, but, somehow, presented uncharictaristically in a way that only a best friend who shared a womb with her would pick up on. There was something in Bess' expression-- or understated lack thereof-- that set off a little alarm in Becca's head. Bess was a pretty spirited person, unafraid of letting a fiery personality show through her eyebrow movements and the positioning of her lips. But when she was talking about their classmates' hysteria-- something that Becca assumed Bess to find completely vexatious-- her face lacked the expected life and activity. It was almost like she was bottling her emotions up-- and it was disorienting, to say the least.

Becca wanted to deduce that shutting down could have just been Bess' reaction to all of the negative energy around her. She didn't 'do' all of this seriousness, of course. She knew that Bulletproof Bess was too sturdy to get shaken up by some silly nightmare. And she was positive that she was just imagining that third scream echoing against the walls of Room 100, because if even Bess Utonium was scared, then something about the night terror became a little more real. She assured herself that she was too disconcerted by her own hallucination to have properly perceived what she woke up to. But as her rambles finally came to a stand-still, she ultimately lost her own impulse control. Before Bess had the opportunity to poke her usual fun at Becca's exhausting babbling and abuse of scientific jargon, her faintly freckled arms were wrapped around her sister's athletic body, clutching as tightly as a bookish thing could, trying to squeeze out any possible latent negativity and cram the notion into Bess' form that she was loved, supported, cherished and eons far from being abandoned. It was the kind of embrace that she knew Bess hated, but she wasn't doing it entirely for Bess.

“I’m sorry...” She didn't know if it sounded like she was sorry for the dreaded hug or for the spontaneous mushiness. But she didn't reflect on it for long; she was struck with the realization that she needed to hurry and gather herself. Becca Utonium was not allowed to look this susceptible to negative emotions-- especially such illogical ones caused by something as meaningless as a dream. She could write to Beth about all of the trauma her own brain had thrust upon her last night. But in person, she needed to be strong and collected for her sisters and for the rest of the student body to find confidence in. She whispered a quick excuse for her action, but she still wasn't letting go of her sister just yet; she was waiting until her eyes dried up for that. “You’re just so smart.”